[image]

I lit the oil lamp. Now! Where were me old p.o.r.nographic photographs...("It's all lies officer! I bought them as art studies, I am a keen art student of twenty-one" etc.) Pouring rain, everything was damp, cigarettes went out-matches wouldn't ignite. I was asleep when Edgington returned.

"You asleep?" he says.

"Of course I am. You don't think I always make this noise?"

"These tents were made for dwarfs."

"I'm a dwarf, but I'm tall with it"

"What's the b.l.o.o.d.y time?"

"The b.l.o.o.d.y time is 0200. Got a f.a.g?"

"Yes."

Here there was a long pause from Edgington. Mind you I took part in the pause, but it was he who started it; with great strength of character I brought the pause to an end.

"Well give us one then," I said impatiently.

"You must make yourself clear, Milligan. If you ask me 'have you got got a f.a.g', the answer is 'yes'. I a f.a.g', the answer is 'yes'. I have have got a f.a.g, but 'have you got a f.a.g for got a f.a.g, but 'have you got a f.a.g for me me', has an entirely different connotation."

"Gis a f.a.g or I'll break out in running sores and make 'em gallop all over you infesting your Bazolikons."

"Is this the language of the race that gave us Joyce, Yeats, O'Casey, Old Mother Riley?"

Edge has contorted himself into the letter Z to pull his tin of cigarettes from his pocket. He hands me a curved flattened thing.

"Wot's this?"

"Players Turkish for smoking round corners."

Edgington was going through the gyrations of getting his battle-dress off, in the confined s.p.a.ce this meant you got his elbow in your earole every second.

"Let's face it, Edgington this is only a one man tent."

"I am am only one man." only one man."

"But I I was only one man was only one man first first."

"Lies, I I am the first only one man." am the first only one man."

Finally we settled, doused the light, rolled left and right into our blankets. Up front the Germans had opened an attack all along the line. Here we slept to the sound of rain, it was a good arrangement.

19 March, 1943 I awoke in the wee small hours, but not for a wee, no! something something was crawling on my chest, my first thought was it must be an eleven foot King Cobra, it was moving slowly down towards where women affect you most, if he bit me there, some twenty women in England would take the veil. I called very softly "Harry...Harry...Harry..." He moved and mumbled something like "It's all right mother, I've known her three years." was crawling on my chest, my first thought was it must be an eleven foot King Cobra, it was moving slowly down towards where women affect you most, if he bit me there, some twenty women in England would take the veil. I called very softly "Harry...Harry...Harry..." He moved and mumbled something like "It's all right mother, I've known her three years."

"Pay Parade!" I said. This got his eyes open. "Now listen! There's something on my chest."

"They're called blankets."

"I'm serious, it's moving downwards, can you carefully take the blankets back and get it?" He lit the oil lamp, and very carefully peeled off the blankets, he gasped.

"Cor b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!"

"Never mind that, what is it?"

"A black scorpion."

"Rubbish, it's an eleven foot King Cobra!"

"It's a two inch scorpion. I'm going to knock it to your side."

"What's wrong with yours."

With a sweeping movement he whisked the scorpion off, smashed the tent pole, collapsed the tent, extinguished the light, spilled the paraffin, and set fire to the blankets. From then on the evening lost its splendour, we stood in the pouring rain amid smouldering blankets, trying to avoid the scorpion, and to retrieve our kit. The night was spent in the gay carefree interior of Kidgell's lorry.

"You clumsy b.u.g.g.e.r you wrecked our little love nest."

"Thank you very much, next time you knock your own b.l.o.o.d.y scorpions off."

"It was an eleven foot King Cobra!"

March 22 The morning of March the 22nd dawned. The rain had stopped. Sol ascended. We strung our damp gear on a makeshift clothes line. dawned. The rain had stopped. Sol ascended. We strung our damp gear on a makeshift clothes line.

[image]

Interior of my one man tent

"Milligan! pack your kit, you're going up the line," said BQMS Courtney.

"But me kit's soaking wet!"

"Stop the war, Mr Milligan's kit is wet."

I ma.s.saged my steaming belongings into my kit bag, and boarded the Ration Truck with Driver Wilson. "What's all these blood stains in the back?" I said, "It's not the old trouble?"

"Last night, I was driving back from the Guns, I found a Don R laying by the road with his legs nearly off, a Jerry patrol had got him with a machine pistol."

Wilson was a dour Scot, sporting pebble gla.s.ses (only the British Army would make him a driver). I think he drove in Braille. In peace time he'd been a shepherd. He rarely spoke, but sometimes in his sleep, he bleated.

"Where you taking me?"

"Munchar."

"Munchar?"

"Munchar. It's a bombed village."

So it was. I was to relieve L/Bdr Wenham at the Command Post. He'd come up in strange splotches and was reporting sick. Munchar was a French Colonial Farming village now deserted. The whole village lay in the shadow of Djbel Munchar, a gigantic razor-backed rock, looking like a fossilized Dinosaur, cast by nature in grey-white granite, it reflected the colours of the day, pink at dawn, blazing white at noon, scarlet at sunset. By moonlight it looked awesome, like the hump of a colossal white killer whale, beyond it, waiting, lay the enemy.

[image]

Djbel Munchar by Edgington

I arrived about 9.30 a.m., the truck waited to take the ailing Wenham back, he was covered in dabs of some purple medicine. "It's lurgi." he grinned throwing his kit in the back. "You'll like it here," he said, "we've done f.u.c.k all for 3 days, and it's been p.i.s.sing down."

"Now the bad news?"

"I've tested the set, the Dags are charged, the Don 5 is working, all you got to do is play with yourself and drink tea."

The billet was a bombed farm house, minus a roof, but the first floor kept off the rain. I entered the building. Inside was a room about 20 ft x 20, to the left a burnt staircase. Lying on the floor were two of the flowers of English manhood, Gunner Arthur Tume and Gunner Payne.

"h.e.l.lo Spike," says Tume, "I'm just reading the Daily Mirror."

"You always were a daredevil."

"You'll be glad to know that they've evacuated all our lads safely from Dunkirk."

"Thank G.o.d, one of them owes me money."

I dumped my kit in the corner. "Who's on duty," I said. "I am," said Payne, "I've got my tin hat on." He was cleaning his nails with a small hammer. "As you're both lying down I think I can break the news, I am now Lance Bombardier Milligan." Tume lowered his newspaper, "Oh Christ no." The phone buzzed, "h.e.l.lo," said Payne, "19 Battery-all-action-packed Command Post. What? Yes, he's arrived, and he says he's a Lance Bombardier." There was a howl of laughter from the other end and Payne hung up.

The overcast sky was clearing and the sun shone. I reported to Lt Budden, who had one of the 'rooms'.

"Ah Gunner Milligan."

"It's Bombardier Milligan now sir."

"Bombardier?" He turned and looked out the window. "Oh dear." he said. "I'll put you in the picture. We're in support of the O.P.," he laid out a map, and indicated the spot, "Lt Goldsmith and Bombardier Deans are up there, where the tea stain is, they're p.i.s.sed out of their minds. We We are the carrying party for food, ammo, mail, fresh batteries, line testing and relief." are the carrying party for food, ammo, mail, fresh batteries, line testing and relief."

"Do we have to take the dog for a walk as well?" The floor was the bed, and while I was down there I did a rough pencil drawing that survived, though it's so faint I've had to ink it over.

[image]

Drawing-Inside Billet-Munchar

I spent the morning exploring the house, burnt stairs (still strong enough to support one), to the First Floor, pitiful traces of happier days, a lady's slipper, a burnt doll, some women's magazines, a prayer book in French, and of all things, still hanging on the wall, a picture of M. Renaud. But lo! and behold in the room at the back was a piano, still playable but the floor adjacent had given way, so, I made no effort to play my attractive version of Chopsticks, which is not better than any other version, except I do it blindfolded standing on one leg with my trousers down. Oh I know it would mean nothing at a Chopin recital, but it had been well received in the NAAFI Canteen on Christmas Eve 1942, and who's to say, during those long nights at the Carthusian Monastery in the Valedemosa, Chopin didn't drop his trousers to compose the E Minor Nocturne? It was common knowledge that when he played in the relative minor of C, his legs overheated, atone time George Sands' hands were a ma.s.s of burns. One afternoon the line-laying truck (Ma) halted by the door, and a long thing called Harry Edgington drew nigh, giving our special 'choked scream'. I greeted him in my draws cellular. (I was counting my legs to see how near to Chopin I could get.) "And why," he said, wriggling his ringers in the air, "are you in a state of dishabille?"

"I'm practising to be Chopin's legs."

"Good, I'm training to be George Sands' teeth." I told him about the piano, gleefully he ascended the blackened stairs as I dressed, I heard Edgington plunge into the keyboard, Big Fat Romantic chords G aug 9th + 11 + 11th + 13 + 13th-then, the music stopped, and started but now, very sad, I climbed the stairs and found him with the burnt doll propped on the music stand.

"Blimey, this if sad," he said taking the burnt doll in his hands. "It says the whole war. Ahh!" he said, "you've brought your trumpet, great, what is it? Honey Suckle?" I nodded. As I drew near the piano it became apparent, the sagging would not take our combined weight. So! There was the strange scene of Edgington and piano in the far corner and me in the doorway blowing a trumpet. We played a few of our favourite tunes. 'What's new', 'Have you met Miss Jones?' A loud beeping from Ma Truck signalled the call for Edgington's return. "Come on Paderewski!" came the irreverent voice of 'Pedlar' Palmer. "Hitler wants you to tune his piano!"

[image]

Hitlergram No. 3369 The scene: Midnight at Berchesgarten. In bed are A. Hitler, Eva Braun and her mother. The light goes on. Midnight at Berchesgarten. In bed are A. Hitler, Eva Braun and her mother. The light goes on. HITLER: HITLER: Vy is zat man saying mine name? Vy is zat man saying mine name? EVA: EVA: Your fame is spreading darlink, zat man was in Africa ! Your fame is spreading darlink, zat man was in Africa ! HITLER: HITLER: Tell zat old boiler your mudder dat! Tell zat old boiler your mudder dat! HITLER'S MOTHER-IN-LAW: HITLER'S MOTHER-IN-LAW: I heard you, you schwine! Zo zey know your name in Aftica, Russia, England, but you still have not given it to mein dear little Eva. (bursts into tears.) I heard you, you schwine! Zo zey know your name in Aftica, Russia, England, but you still have not given it to mein dear little Eva. (bursts into tears.) HITLER: HITLER: Stop zat crying, or I promote you to Father-in-Law. Stop zat crying, or I promote you to Father-in-Law.

Monkey 2 truck b.u.mped and bounced away. Harry in the back, hat on sideways, posed eyes crossed, shouting- "I am am Napoleon, I tell you I Napoleon, I tell you I AM AM."

"You know Milligan," said Lt Budden, "One of these days someone's going to believe him."

"I believe him sir."

From the back room came the most terrifying tearing of wood, falling of masonry and the most G.o.d-awful crash, followed by swearing and tw.a.n.ging. The piano had fallen thru' the floor into the Batman's room, just just missing Gunner Pill who was polishing his boots when the instrument arrived at his side. missing Gunner Pill who was polishing his boots when the instrument arrived at his side.

We rushed in to see him covered in dust, a gaping hole in the ceiling-the ruins of a French Colonial Piano on the floor.

"Cor, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," said the astonished Pill.

"You never told me you were musical," I said. Under the circ.u.mstances his reply was remarkably controlled, "Just missed my f.u.c.kin' 'ead!"

It's not often we had been detailed to:- "Clean up that mess of French Colonial Piano."

The area abounded with hot springs. To utilise this resource we dug a huge hole, dropped a canvas gun sheet in and diverted the waters thereto. One day, I observed a Gunner bathing in it when it rained, at which he rushed from the water to take shelter. Early one sunny morning, some fifty yards from the billet, skulking in the long gra.s.s was a canine-like creature, "Are there any wolves in Tunisia sir?" I asked Budden.

"There are no no wolves in Tunisia Milligan." said Lt Budden looking at me very strangely. Through binoculars I saw it was a dog, a cross between an Alsatian and a Something Hairy. He was very thin, but then by G.o.d so was I. Every night I put some bully beef on a plate and left it out for him, and every night he would eat it, save for the nights I went out and ate it myself, I got hungry too. After a few days the dog had enough confidence to let us all touch him. He was nervous about coming into the house so I knocked up a kennel for him. I made it so nice, Gunner Tume asked if he could sleep in it and the dog sleep in his room. We named him Havelock Ellis, don't ask me why. wolves in Tunisia Milligan." said Lt Budden looking at me very strangely. Through binoculars I saw it was a dog, a cross between an Alsatian and a Something Hairy. He was very thin, but then by G.o.d so was I. Every night I put some bully beef on a plate and left it out for him, and every night he would eat it, save for the nights I went out and ate it myself, I got hungry too. After a few days the dog had enough confidence to let us all touch him. He was nervous about coming into the house so I knocked up a kennel for him. I made it so nice, Gunner Tume asked if he could sleep in it and the dog sleep in his room. We named him Havelock Ellis, don't ask me why.

[image]

Lt Budden enters from his room, his face almost obscured with shaving soap.

"Is today the 26 26th or or 27 27th," he said.

"It's the 25th sir, you are at this moment shaving, your name is Lt Cecil Budden and-I know there are no wolves in Tunisia." He peered at me. He had cut himself in several places, "Am I bleeding," he said, "Yes sir," I said "you are bleeding awful." He walked vaguely round the room pouring blood and humming a Bach air, then exited. Between s.n.a.t.c.hes of Bach he was speaking to Havelock, "There, did darling like that biscuit?" This was followed by growling, "Milligan, this dog is still half wild." sir, you are at this moment shaving, your name is Lt Cecil Budden and-I know there are no wolves in Tunisia." He peered at me. He had cut himself in several places, "Am I bleeding," he said, "Yes sir," I said "you are bleeding awful." He walked vaguely round the room pouring blood and humming a Bach air, then exited. Between s.n.a.t.c.hes of Bach he was speaking to Havelock, "There, did darling like that biscuit?" This was followed by growling, "Milligan, this dog is still half wild."

"Well only stroke the other half," I said, "In any case your Bach is worse than his bite."

[image]

29 March Night. Loaded with supplies, I drove the Bren Carrier in torrential rain towards our O.P. on Frenchman's Hill. Next to me, a sodden cigarette in his mouth sat Lt Budden. "I'm not looking forward to relieving Tony." he said. I did not like driving at night because I suffered with night blindness. I kept walking into things, falling down holes and treading on sleeping comrades. I had trodden on Gunner Maunders so many times he asked me, should he change his name to Axminster, but, this night I didn't tread on Gunner Maunders, no, I just drove straight into a Minefield. "Don't worry' I said 'It's one of ours."