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Victory in North Africa

An early morning recce of the preliminary position at Wadi Akarit — overlooked but, although we were shelled, we went unscathed.
A night spent on forward harassing was a bit fraught. The B.C. reckoned that it would take the opposition two hours to fix our position at night. He told me to finish the firing programme in an hour and a half, when we upped sticks and away. Half an hour later, the Infantry HQ in the area got a fair plastering. The B.C. visited them the next day and made his apologies — and registered the stupidity of such expeditions with HQRA.
The breakthrough at Wadi Akarit was a sight to be seen. Our guns came over the crest as dawn was breaking, in desert formation, perfectly spaced, looking as collected and controlled as at a Royal Tattoo. The BSM’s dismounted, and, almost in a flash it seemed, the guns were in action and the quads away again. We were firing all day long. We put down a concentration and broke up at least one counter attack, but communications were poor because of interference from NZ OP’s and tanks. A second night in action without any sleep or break, I blacked out; apparently I answered the phone and carried out instructions of which I had no recollection, but all was well. And the third day we rested.
After Wadi Akarit, there was the mountain battle of Garci in Tunisia. We broke the long drive to Enfidaville with a cultural stop to view the Roman Amphitheatre at El Djem. I was impressed by the two stone ‘loos’ with channels for flushing water round the seat.
For the Garci battle, I was attached to RHQ working directly with the C.O., Thorne Thorne, and Brigadier Bateman; on occasion, we shared the Command Post with a French General [was it Le Clerc?]. This was in a natural depression about half a mile in front of the massif; we had a front line view of the action. At times I was relaying orders to fire seven regiments of Field guns plus three Medium regiments, over 200 guns in all, with a further three regiments in reserve; defensive fire in the form pf ‘stonks’ broke up counter attacks on 1/9 Ghurkas and 4/6 Raj Rifs. It was one of the stickiest engagements of the desert war — the final fling of the German defence.
Then we were withdrawn to move round and join 1st Army at Medjez El Bab. We halted just outside Kairouan, the Holy City, shimmering white in the noonday sun, but there was no time to make a cultural visit. We continued via Le Kef, the desert changing into fields of buttercups and poppies as we drove through the hills. For me, in spite of wearing goggles and daily treatment of my eyes with Argyrol [?] which made me look like an Indian, my hay fever was the worst ever.
What a contrast when we met 1st Army, all dark green camouflage, compared with ourselves powdered almost white with desert dust and the bleaching sun. And what comforts in the way of fresh food, white bread and plenty of cans of beer etc. We took up gun positions but the end came only days later.
We were allowed half a day to see Tunis. Asking a local where to eat, I was invited to his house for a meal. They were celebrating the 21st birthday of his son or daughter and having a party. I was plied with drinks and given some raw tunny to eat, which was delicious and I don’t remember what else. Had I been able to stay, I would have had a marvellous intro to the local people; they were so delighted that it was all over for them and wanted to show their gratitude. They were particularly appreciative of the RAF’s low level and accurate bombing of the docks and highly critical of the Yanks’ from a great height and all over the place.
But Monty would not allow us ‘coloured’ troops to remain and we had to retire to Misurata where we laid out our lines close to the sea. Beautiful bathing off the rocks, and we made ourselves as comfortable under canvas as we could. Misurata looked a hovel of a place; I never even went there. Apparently there was an Arab brothel which none of the officers dared patronise though possibly some of the OR’s did. We played hockey against the Indians who played barefoot and generally won. We all felt hard done by; from Cairo to Tunis had been a long haul and we were denied the delights of a little civilisation that others who, we felt, had not deserved it so much, were enjoying. And then there was the long and tedious drive in our clapped out vehicles all the way back to Egypt.

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