Rommel_ Gunner Who__ A Confrontation in - Spike Milligan [55]
“Curse, he’s still alive,” I said.
“You silly sod I…” Before Trew got further Edgington’s kit bag hit him amidships and with a yell Trew disappeared again. We jumped on to the truck, and a great wrestling match twixt the three of us ensued, an interesting spectacle it was, as the truck bumped and bounced hurling the kit and the wrestlers in the air. We finally overpowered the reluctant Trew. “Say fainites,” I said, as Edgington put undue pressure on his scrotum. “Fainites,” he screamed. “If it weren’t for the fact you bastards owe me money, I’d arrest you,” said Trew from the depths of the kit bags where we had buried him. “That’s a terrible insult,” I said, “we must tie him up.” We both dived on the hapless Trew and—using Telephone Cable—bound him hand and foot, Edgington decided to complete the task, a gag would add to the fun, so an unwashed gunner’s kerchief was poked into his mouth . “The least he can catch is Small-Pox,” I said. “What’s goin’ on back there,” shouted Driver Bennett. “We are carrying out essential readjustments to the British Army Punishment system.”
“MmmmmMMMMMMMMmmmMMMtsGHHHJ” says Bdr Trew.
“Don’t mumble man,” shouted Edgington. “If you want the screens, say so.” It was dark as the guns were pulled into their new positions. German planes were active, lots of parachute flares. Bombardier Deans offered to help dig a dugout if he could share my tent. Oh what it is to be a man of property.
We dug furiously in the dark, throwing ourselves down when the odd German shell landed. It was 04.30 when we got the tent over the top and our kit moved in.
“If there’s no jobs after the war, we can be grave digger, ha, ha, ha, ha,” I said.
“No point in going to sleep now,” said Deans, “it’ll be stand to in a minute.” We were all posted in pairs around the periphery of the gun positions. It was me and Bdr Deans behind a pile of rocks and scrub. I yawned, he yawned .We yawned . He blew his nose—I didn’t blow mine.—“I wonder,” says Deans, “why we’ve got 2 nostrils.”
“I should imagine one is a reserve, in case of a malfunction of the other.”
“But a single nostril would look neater.”
“But dangerous; when I was a kid, I got a bead up one nostril, so what’s me mum do? Shuts me gob, blows in the clear nostril, and the bead shoots out the other and hit the cat.” There was a silence. “I wonder what Jerry’s up to,” said Deans. “He must be up to Chapter II, they’re slow readers, it’s all them big German words like Trockenbeerauslese that slows them up.” The odd shell keeps plopping around us, but strangely were nearly all duds. “They sound as if they come from Cheesmans of Lewisham,” I said. Beauman-Smythe visited us. “There’s the chance of a counter-attack by Jerry, if he does, we’ll be in the middle of it, so keep KV.”
“Thank you for cheering us up sir,” says Deans. “If they do attack sir,” I said, “do you want me to get killed right away, or shall I fight for a bit first.” He forced a laugh—“he, he, he, ha, ha, ha!”
7.2 Camouflaging on Longstop
Chater Jack had got us in a very forward position for heavy guns, were in front of all the Field and Mediums, and in view of Jerry. Dawn came and went, and our camouflage must have been good because no rangeing rounds came over. We were told not to move about too much and to keep in our particular fold in the hill in which the guns were secreted, some of the lads wandered out into view and were immediately nailed by an 88 Battery. Spiv Convine found a heavy German Machine Gun, which he tried to sell to Lt Mostyn. “I’ll have to have it valued first,” said Mostyn, “you never know, it might be a fake. I must also arrest you for not handing in an enemy weapon thereby contravening Kings Rules and Regulations.” Convine staggered back and held his head.
“What’s wrong man,” said Mostyn.
“I think I’ve got an attack of Anti-Semitism coming on sir.”