Rommel_ Gunner Who Part 6

"OK," he grinned.

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Winners of the 1st Army Trilby Hat Contest

20 Feb. 1943 Battery Diary: 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 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d's stole my shaving brush," I said.

"That's funny, some b.a.s.t.a.r.d'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 b.u.t.terflies 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 I wrote on various stones little messages for those who might follow in our footsteps.

"This way for World War II," or "h.e.l.lo Soldier, having fun."

"You have just pa.s.sed Go. Collect 200 pounds."

"Insure now now with the Prudential." with the Prudential."

Shapiro was patting his pockets..."Got a f.a.g?"

Me: Yes.

Shapiro: Since we have been in action I've smoked more.

Me: I've got plenty since I smoked a pipe.

Shapiro: Ta.

The scene: I lit him up and then lit my pipe.

Shapiro: What's it like with a pipe?

Me: "It's a psychological difference."

Shapiro: "What's that mean?"

Me: "I don't know. I read it in a medical book."

Shapiro: "Let me try!"

The scene: He took the pipe, drew, inhaled, then burst out coughing. His eyes started to water, "Ohhh dear! f.u.c.king terrible! How do you inhale that c.r.a.p?"

Me: "You don't."

Shapiro: "Now he tells me. I'll stick to f.a.gs."

Me: "Yes, stick to yours."

Shapiro: Tell you what, you want to sell me some ?

Me: You come quickly on the hour!

Shapiro: How much?

Me: How much you got?

Shapiro: You thieving sod.

Me: It's twenty f.a.gs, twenty francs. Business is business. We are fighting a capitalist war, so it's twenty francs!

Shapiro unb.u.t.tons his left hand battle-dress pocket. You would tell by the wear and tear on the leading edges it was where he kept his lolly. He took out his pay book, opened it, laying between the leaves was 500 francs.

"You done a robbery?" I said.

"No, I save it and send it home to my mother, and she buys houses with it."

He counted me out two tens.

"You're a b.l.o.o.d.y robber," he said smiling. I could but think of the added burden he had being Jewish. If the Germans took him prisoner...

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Milligan selling cigarettes to Gunner Shapiro in the heat of battle

The line tested, we made for the Bren Carrier at the bottom of the hill. "Anybody in?" I called. Bombardier Sherwood appeared from under the scrim net. "Ahh! you're just you're just in time for tea." Bombardier Hart was in the very act of pouring it. He looked up. in time for tea." Bombardier Hart was in the very act of pouring it. He looked up.

"Cor, Cohen and Kelly! you don't half time it right."

"We persecuted minorities have to use our nut." I untied my tea mug from my waist. " Weee Craskkhhhh." An eighty-eight! Then another and another and another, then lots of anothers-in all about twenty rounds. We hugged the side of the Bren Carrier. The smell of cordite drifted across, fragments of metal scattered around us. It stopped as suddenly as it started.

"I think Jerry can see the b.l.o.o.d.y lot of us all all the time," I said, "whenever I've come up here, he's thrown a few over." the time," I said, "whenever I've come up here, he's thrown a few over."

"It's you you, Milligan," said Sherwood. "You're a Jonah, get in the Bren Carrier and we'll throw you over the side."

We drank our tea. After two days in action I knew the most dangerous gun in Africa was the 88 mm, its low trajectory gave no warning of approach.

"Who's at the O.P." I asked.

"Tony Goldsmith and Spike Deans."

"Have they had any tea?" I said.

"No," said Sherwood.

"Fill my water bottle and I'll take some up."

Carefully Sherwood filled it. I fixed it to my belt and started up the hill. I took no chances and kept to the right, as I neared the crest, I lay down and crawled.

"Where are you 19 Bty?" I coo-ed.

"This way," said Spike Deans. "We're the good-looking ones."

They guided me by "talking me down." The view from the O.P. was magnificent. Below lay the vast Goubelat Plain, to our right, about five miles on, were two magnificent adjoining rocky peaks that rose sheer 500 feet above the plain, Garra el Kibira and Garra el Hamada, christened 'Queen Sheba's t.i.ts'. At the foot lay El Kourzia, a great salt lagoon two to three miles in circ.u.mference. Around the main lagoon were dotted smaller lagoons and around the fringe, what appeared to be a pink sc.u.m. In fact it was hundreds of flamingo's. This vision, the name of Sheba, the sun, the crystal white and silver shimmer of the salt lagoon made boyhood readings of Rider Haggard come alive. It was a sight I can never forget, so engraved was it that I was able to dash it down straight onto the typewriter after a gap of thirty years. Further right of the lagoon were marshes, at the edge of which was a burnt-out Panzer Mark III. "That shows what a careless cigarette can do," said Lt Goldsmith.

Tea finished, I started to crawl back.

"Thank mother for the rabbit, Milligan," said Goldsmith.

Back at the Carrier they were playing pontoon. I arrived as Sherwood had lost his Bren Carrier on a five card trick.

"Want to play?" said Hart.

"OK."

"He's got twenty francs," Shapiro was quick to say.

The game reached an alarming level, I had bet my own mother and three francs on two picture cards. I made thirty francs on the day and, on paper, I still own Sherwoods fruit-shop in Reading.

"That's me finished," said Sherwood. "Who's got a f.a.g?"

"Shapiro," I said quickly-WHOOSHHHHHBANG! WHOSSSHBANG!...88's! "See?" I said, "They know you're Jewish." Ten more rounds.

"I'm not that that b.l.o.o.d.y Jewish," says Shapiro face down. b.l.o.o.d.y Jewish," says Shapiro face down.

Next a round of marker smoke. It was a guide for a bombing raid-twelve Stukas roared down, the noise of their engines was incredible-like howling wolves; above them, circling, were ME logs. The Stukas dropped their eggs on the London Irish, the noise was frightening, the earth shook as bombs exploded and the sky shook as the Bofors hammered away. When the last bomb had dropped the Gunners Shapiro and Milligan, Pontoon Players Extraordinary, shot out from under the camouflage net and ran heroically to a nullah. We sat gasping, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"We didn't say goodbye," I said. We bent over the stream and splashed water over our faces.

Some of the London Irish had copped it, we saw three stretchers loaded on to a Bren and driven away. Hooking on our small arms we trudged back across the dusty plain. A motorcycle was coming towards us. It was a young paratrooper.

"You know where the London Irish are?" he asked.

"Yes, so do the b.l.o.o.d.y Luftwaffe," I pointed. "They're spread along the rear slope of that hill."

"Ta," he said. "What mob are you?"

"Gunners. You Paras?"

"Yes."

"You were in the first lot out here?"

"Yer. What a scramble, they dropped us on Bone, and the b.l.o.o.d.y Arabs were waiting to buy our 'chutes as we landed, we had to fight 'em to make 'em let go." He laughed, revved the engine, and roared away.

"He might have been a German spy," said Shapiro, who'd remained strangely silent during the conversation.

"Don't be b.l.o.o.d.y daft Shap, he was too scruffy to be a Kraut."

"He asked questions didn't he? You told him what mob we were."

"I didn't, all I said was we were gunners, not the name of the Regiment."

"Oh."

"You can take your finger off the trigger now."

"I was just playing safe. He could could have been a German." have been a German."

"OK it was was a German, I never let on you were Jewish." a German, I never let on you were Jewish."

"Oh thank you, thank you very much, that's big, you didn't tell him I was Jewish, what you want, a receipt for it or something?" When we got back the guns were firing.

"They're busy," I shouted to Shapiro.

"It's pay day," he said.

I sat on my bed enjoying the evening meal, steak and kidney pudding. This really was a good life if you didn't want to think more than ten minutes ahead. We got money, grub, clothes, transport, travel, everything bar women, and we could dream of them at night. Some just thought of one woman, I thought of as many as I could. I don't suppose they knew, but I had Deanna Durbin and Joan Blondell every every night until the fall of Tunis, if I had a good dinner I used to include Mae West. Other lads were smoking, fiddling with kit, sewing b.u.t.tons, chatting or talking to the wall. I closed my eyes. It was time I had some letters! Wonder what Lily was doing. I knew what Louise would be doing! AHHHHHHHHHHRGGGG! Louise was the girl with big b.o.o.bs and b.u.t.tocks that had serviced me twice a week. Ahrggg!!! Someone was shaking me-it was me. No, someone else was shaking me! It was night until the fall of Tunis, if I had a good dinner I used to include Mae West. Other lads were smoking, fiddling with kit, sewing b.u.t.tons, chatting or talking to the wall. I closed my eyes. It was time I had some letters! Wonder what Lily was doing. I knew what Louise would be doing! AHHHHHHHHHHRGGGG! Louise was the girl with big b.o.o.bs and b.u.t.tocks that had serviced me twice a week. Ahrggg!!! Someone was shaking me-it was me. No, someone else was shaking me! It was him him!

The sentry, "Stand to."

Four o'clock already? Somewhere someone was removing the hours between sunset and sunrise, that or they were bringing four in the morning forward to eight at night. It was chilly. Silent. Again, I stood in a hole in the ground.

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On duty in a hole in the ground for my King and Country.