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By Root 120 0

80 feet high and a hundred yards long, behind us a ledge dropping sheer 50 feet to a granite plateau 50 yards long, then another 30 foot drop into a valley, in fact two giant steps. The canvas command post erected, I pitched my tent on the edge of the first drop, because shells falling behind me would drop 50 feet down and I would avoid being sub-divided by the Third Reich. However, if shells landed in front of me, I’d suffer the quincequonces. The guns were pulled, heaved and sworn into position. Wireless network opened with 78 Div. H.Q. and 46 Div. O.P. line laid and contact made. Jerry dropped an occasional Chandelier flare. Kerrashboom-kerak! Our first rounds went off at 22.00 hours. I was on Command Post duty all night.

A Sgt standing on the trail to make it more difficult to move

In between fire orders a running argument developed between Lt Beauman Smythe, Gnr Thornton and self.

Thornton:

There’s been heavy casualties on Bou Diss.

Me:

I’m glad it’s not me.

B-Smythe:

That’s a selfish view.

Me:

Selfish Sir ? All I said was I’m glad it wasn’t me that died.

B-Smythe:

That’s not something to be glad about!

Thornton:

I think—

Me:

Sir! You want me to say ‘I’m sorry it wasn’t me that got killed’?

B-Smythe:

It’s better than being not sorry. Someone’s got to get killed in wars.

Me:

Well, someone was, it’s just that it wasn’t me.

Thornton:

I think—

B-Smythe:

I still say your attitude to death was selfish.

Me:

Look sir, mother went thru’ a lot of pain to have me, I was a 12 lb. baby, 11 lbs. was my head, me father spent a fortune for a Sergeant on my education, some days it was up to threepence a day, I’m not throwing all that away. My father still goes round with a begging bowl.

Thornton:

I think—

B-Smythe:

I still say your attitude to death was selfish.

Milligan:

Shellfish?

Thornton:

I think—

Me:

Sell? What do you think?

Thornton:

…Oh Christ—I’ve forgotten.

Me:

Well be a good boy, go outside and get killed to cheer up Lt Smythe.

Off duty at 06.00 hours, went straight to bed and I think I died.

Trauma

“Panzers!” hissed a voice. I could hear the bogies screeching on the iron tracks, suddenly it loomed above me, the track pinioned me and crushed my feet. I felt the bones snap, it was coming up my thighs, I screamed blood, the monster was pushing my stomach up into the chest cavity. I could feel my intestines being forced up my throat, the blood was being squeezed up into my head, my skull burst under the pressure, my eyes were hanging on my chest, I was vomiting my intestines…

April 14. Wednesday. 1943

Midday, guns didn’t wake me but Lunch did. In daylight our newly painted green and yellow guns stood out dangerously against the chalk white surroundings, but, by ingenious draping with dark and light grey blankets they blended in splendidly. “It would have . been better if we’d painted the bloody rocks yellow and green,” said crazed voices who had to wait all day to get their blankets back and then rise at dawn to give them up again. Our O.P. was in a dodgy position on Djbel Chaouach being under mortar fire, hence the small sign by the O.P. trench. “For sale—no reasonable offer refused, owner forced to sell, apply Fear and Co.”

At short notice I was rushing up to Chaouach O.P. to collect some dead batteries, idiot driver Cyril Bennett parks wireless truck in full view of Jerry, mortared to hell before we drove to safety.

“Why did they shoot at us,” said Driver Bennett, “they could see we wasn’t armed.” Today that driver is Anthony Barber M.P. Another parcel from home! Fruit cake, holy medals, and soapy cigarettes. I divided the cake among the poor of the parish, we ate the lot in 20 minutes, it was a question of getting as much down you as soon as you could before the word got round. Chater Jack had got wind of it and entered the C.P. to find men with cheeks bulging.

“What are you eating?” he said, his voice slightly strained. Lt Beauman-Smythe said “Wegge eaghting schom of Milligan’s Chake Suh,” sending out a stream of air borne crumbs in the Major’s face. Chater