Rommel_ Gunner Who__ A Confrontation in - Spike Milligan [22]
“Gunner Milligan sir.”
“What’s the matter? I thought you were taller!”
“I’m in a hole sir.”
I heard Chater Jack chuckle. He said something to Goldsmith and they both returned convulsed with suppressed laughter.
I was again alone in a hole in Africa. At this moment among the warring nations there were literally hundreds of thousands of little men, all standing in holes, in France, Germany, Poland, Russia. What a lot of bloody fools we must look! The door of the officers’ hut opened again. The mountainous figure of Chater Jack’s batman, Woods, loomed towards me. He handed me a cup of tea “With the Boss’s compliments,” he said. I sipped the tea—there must be some mistake! It had whisky in!! I’d better hurry. I gulped it down and as I finished Gunner Woods returned. “Were there whisky in thart tea?” he said. I nodded.
“Well bugger oi down dead,” he said, “that were Major’s tea.”
Woods had approached me with the mind of a boy of twelve and left with one of thirteen. Experience ages a man. The first light was quickening the morning sky. Ghostly outlines were gradually turning into detailed reality as the covers of night fell off, we were all thinking, breakfast! Loudspeakers crackled into life. “Take Post!” Gunners dropped their food and ran to the guns, to cries of “Fuck our luck.” I discovered that some swine had stolen my shaving brush, so I stole someone else’s. I had an early breakfast, and was detailed to check the O.P. line. I liked going. It took me away from the mob and gave me a sense of freedom. I told Shapiro I wanted him to come with me.
“Oh no,” he said, “I can’t come, my tin hat doesn’t fit properly.”
“You’re a hat cutter, it’s your own bloody fault.”
“OK,” he grinned.
Winners of the 1st Army Trilby Hat Contest
20 Feb. 1943
Battery Diary:
Activity of enemy patrols in the hills west of Battery has increased considerably. 6 Commandoes have come up on Division Front. Degree of alertness increased to one third stand to during hours of darkness. Bombing and listening posts established in gully running north into hills. 936338 W/Bdr Jones L. W. accidentally wounded during action exercise.
Shapiro and I trudged dustily along the line.
“Some bastard’s stole my shaving brush,” I said.
“That’s funny, some bastard’s stolen mine.”
We were walking over wheat fields now flattened by war machines. It was magnificent country, spring was at hand, the wild flowers were beginning to sprout, the wheat crops were about a foot high, and lush broad beans were about to flower. Compared with the English variety, these were giants, and there were acres and acres of them around El Aroussa flat lands. This was rich and fertile growing country, but depended on rain, the ancient Roman irrigation system having fallen into ruin. Another plant, Borage, was growing freely in the ditches as were little blue and red anemones that grew among the wheat stalks. Broom was about to bud. Looking back towards the guns, we were in a broad flat valley with high hills and mountains to our right, some craggy and precipitous, some smooth and rolling like the South Downs. Among the flat rock faces, lizards, chameleons and an occasional gecko would be found taking the warmth of the rocks. A few white cabbage butterflies had appeared along with several orange tips. In the evenings swifts appeared, from where I’ll never know. The African sky was like most other skies, save it had the quality of brilliant light. One felt oneself being urged to paint, paint, paint! As we trudged forward