Rommel_ Gunner Who__ A Confrontation in - Spike Milligan [4]
Gunner Maunders, his feet reeking, sits up in his bed. “They say French tarts can shag all night on one dinner.”
“That’s right,” says Lance Bombardier Denning, “they can shag around the clock, in any position.”
“Good,” says Gunner Knott. “From now on I’m going to shag laying down, no more bangin’ away standin’ in Bexhill doorways in the shape of a cripple.” Cries of “Knee trembler.”
Discussions on sex took up large portions of gunners’ working hours. The nearest they got to it was the Estaminet at Jean Bart, a quarter of a mile from the Camp. There, apart from the booze, was a barmaid whose bulging bosoms floated along the top of the bar with never less than a hundred pairs of eyes to help them on their way. Many hot-blooded gunners ruptured themselves just staring. “Try only looking at one at a time,” I advised them. There was no shortage of alcohol. We guzzled muscatel, about eighty per cent proof, the real proof was hundred per cent stoned gunners, spark out in the gutters. Those who could stagger would go down to the beach. Naked, we’d sit waist deep in the water, to sober up. One such night, (Jan. 19th 1943) the port of Algiers had a ‘sudden attack of air raid’, soon the sky was a mass of exploding shells, flaming onions and searchlights.
We sat and enjoyed it. “It’s lovely,” said Edgington. “Yesh, it’s slouvely,” I agreed. Gunner Roberts took from the waters to don his steel helmet.
“What German is going to by-pass Algiers to bomb you,” says Edgington.
“They say on a moonlit night an airman can see a bald head from 20,000 feet,” said Roberts. “You haven’t got a bald head,” says I. “I’m not waiting till the last minute,” says Roberts. I got back to the beach and returned with fags.
“Ta,” said Edgington, “nothing like wet cigarettes covered in bloody sand.”
We sat silent. Edgington spoke. “Milligan? See if your aeroplane curse still works.” I stood up. I waited till a German plane was caught in a searchlight, then shouted “I hope you bloody well crash.” Nothing happened.
“Perhaps it’s a deaf pilot,” said Edgington.
“I HOPE YOU BLOODY CRASHHHHH.”
“We’re too far away,” said Edgington.
“Let’s forget it.”
“Forget what?” he said.
“See?” I said, “you’ve forgotten it already.” He too, forgetting, lay back and disappeared below the surface. He reappeared spluttering. “This water’s unreliable,” he said. We dressed and started to wander back. It was dark. Being nyctalopic↓ I always carried a torch. Suddenly in the beam hopped an animal,
≡ Find out like I did.
“Look,” I said, “it’s a jerboa!”
“Jerboa my arse, that’s-a kangaroo,” says Forrest.
“What’s a kangeroo doing in Africa?”
“There’s no such animal, Milligan,” says Edgington, “you made the word up.”
“On the bible it’s true!”
“Bible? You’re agnostic!”
“O.K. I swear on Tiger Tim’s Weekly.”
“Halt, who goes there?” came the midnight challenge.
“Hitler,” I said.
“You can’t be! He came in ten minutes ago.”
“We don’t know who we are, we’re Military Amnesiacs Anonymous.”
“What’s the password?”
“We give up, what is the password?”
“I’m waiting,” said the sentry.
“So are we…gi’s a clue.”
“The clue is, what’s the password?”
“Just a minute,” says Edgington, “I’ve got it written here on a piece of paper…Ahhhh! the word is ‘Fish’.”
“That was last night.”
“Chips?”
“No.”
“Shirley Temple.”
“I don’t know why they put me on sentry duty,” said the demoralised sentry. “There’s seventy blokes come in in the last two hours and not one bugger remembered the word. It’s a waste of bloody time. Sod Churchill.” We gave him a rousing cheer and he let us in.
Anti-aircraft fire at night. Algiers
‘I hope you bloody well crash’ I said
January the 23rd
Bombardier Harry Baum, nicknamed ‘Hairy Bum’, told us “You lot are to be allowed into Algiers and let loose on the unsuspecting women therein. The Passion Wagon leaves at 13.30 hours, and you will all be back at 23.59, like all gude little Cinderellas.” Fly buttons flew in all directions.
We set about cleaning up. Boots were boned, web belts scrubbed, brass polished and trousers creased. It made little