Rommel_ Gunner Who__ A Confrontation in - Spike Milligan [8]
Next morning, I drove to the Dental Surgery, in a villa on the sea at Cap Matifou. The dentist, a young fair-haired Captain sat me in the chair, and drove his prodder down till it got through to the collar bone.
“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW Sir,” I said.
“You scream very well.”
“Yes sir, I’m practising for the front line.”
I drove back with the left side of my face frozen dead. You may ask, what use is half a frozen face? Well, it keeps longer. To this day, the left side of my face is two hours younger than the right. We were to fill in our wills in the back of our Army Pay Books. I had no possessions, no money, two cheap fifty shilling suits, a second-hand evening dress, a few Marks and Spencer shirts, and a mess of ragged underwear. My trumpet was my only bounty, so I wrote “I leave my trumpet to my mother and the H.P. payments to my father.” Others made lavish entries, Gunner White “I leave my Gas Stove to the Sgt Major,” etc. To some it wasn’t funny. Reg Griffin said “When millions of perfectly healthy young men have to make their wills out, there’s something nasty going on in the world.”
“This tea tastes funny,” I said.
“It’s Bromide,” said Gunner Devine. “It stops you havin’ improper thoughts while you’re in action and causing you to lose your aim.”
“Wot you sayin’ ?” says Gunner Forrest (who was very dim).
“Wot I’m sayin’,” says Devine, “is that Bromide stops you getting randy when there is no women about to be the recipient of your desires.” The Bromide had some effect, the Onanists were much less active and we all got to sleep earlier. Gunner Moffat didn’t like Bromide, he was a Christian Science Monitor, he stopped drinking tea in case it “interferes with my manhood.” Bombardier Dean told him it was also in the food. So he stopped eating and lived on Arab fruits, as a result he got galloping dysentery and went down to seven stone before he was weaned back to Bully Beef. I don’t think the Bromide had any lasting effect, the only way to stop a British soldier feeling randy is to load Bromide into a 300 Ib. shell and fire it at him from the waist down.
Gunner James Patrick Devine—one of the great characters of the Battery
Dawn, February the 11th 1943
Yawning, I threw back the tent flap and felt the chill air run over me in the pre-dawn light, I hadn’t been able to sleep, the excitement of the coming adventure had got me. I had risen first, dressed and started pacing my kit . As the morning grew my comrades started to stir, the odd voice commenced to break the silence in the camp. After breakfast I loaded my kit onto the Humber Snipe Wireless Truck.
At 8.30 a.m. the transport of the Regiment was lined up pointing due west. Edgington, late as usual, was swearing, “If I have to pack this bloody kit once more I’ll—I’ll become affiliated to the Swonnicles.”
“You don’t mean that dark beauteous gunner.” I said wiggling me fingers.
His kit bag looked as though he had a dismantled gasometer inside. A squadron of Bell Airacobras roared over.
“I hope you bloody well crash!” I shouted instantly.
“Any luck?” said Harry.
“No.”
“Your power is waning.”
“Rubbish! I’ve got the lowest wain-fall in the Battery”
“Get out before I laugh,” said Harry pointing upwards.
Humber Snipe Wireless Truck
Driver Shepherd and I had been detailed to drive Lt Budden, in the Wireless Truck. We had been standing by vehicles for an hour and nothing had happened but it happened frequently. Despatch Riders raced up and down the column shouting ‘Fuck everybody’ but that was all. We started to brew tea, when Lt Budden’s Iron Frame Glasses appear round the truck, “Look damn you! You’re supposed to be standing by your vehicles.”
“Sorry sir, I’ll say three Hail Marys.”
“Give me a cup and I’ll say no more about it,” he said producing a mug from behind his back.
Lt Budden flags down a D.R. “What’s the hold up?”
“I’ll tell you sir. I’m the D.R. who follows the D.R.