大象传媒

BOFORS GUN 4
A Close Encounter
One of a series of accounts of incidents, in chronological order, whilst commanding a Bofors Gun detachment (4 of 7) by Cyril Frederick Perkins
During those early days of World War II close encounters with danger and even death were commonplace. In Britain everyone was at war - the fighter pilots - the anti-aircraft gunners - civilians going about their lawful pursuits and even babies in their cradles. The war was absolute, it involved us all.
Few can be really sure just when the massed night bombing raids on Britain began - with each dusk of evening sirens wailed their mournful warnings and the drones of Heinkels - Dorniers and the rest filled the night skies. On and on it went - night after night - week after week - and as the weeks lengthened into months it seemed there had never been a time when searchlights had not pierced the night skies or the cracks and flashes of anti-aircraft guns and the distant thud of falling bombs had not added their cacophony to the horror of the onslaught Churchill had warned of.
On one particular night during this period the night raids had started even earlier than was usual - the drones of enemy aircraft overhead seemed almost continuous and the corresponding anti-aircraft fire was frightening in it's intensity. My Bofors Anti-Aircraft Gun was not to make it's contribution that night for the gun had been taken out of action to enable armourers to fit a relatively new modification. I had taken advantage of this stand down to give my gun crew a well earned break from manning duties and most of them had gone off to a nearby village to seek whatever relaxation and recreation they could find.
Just two of the Detachment had volunteered to remain behind and under my supervision were to guard the equipment. Albert Todd was one of them - Toddy we called him and his basic duty was Detachment cook. He was a tall fellow with a mop of straight black hair usually slicked down with far too much grease. He had a sallow complexion a sharp eye and a perpetual grin - he looked the epitome of a 'wide boy' or 'spiv' and in fact he had few peers in the art of foraging and scrounging.
Yet for ail that Toddy was a most enterprising cook and could conjure up the most delicious repasts from the most mundane of rations and when the need arose as it frequently did he was as reliable as any man around the Bofors. He had done an earlier stint of guard duty and raid or no raid had decided to catch up on his beauty sleep.
Tommy Allen the driver of our Gun Towing Vehicle had taken over guard duty and huddled in the gun pit close to the field telephone. Tommy was a rather small man with a sharp foxy like face extenuated by a thin pointed nose but the insignificance of his stature could prove misleading to those tempted to cast aspersions upon it. He had plenty of 'fire in the belly' and as a staunch student of Yoga and Martial Arts could give more than adequate account of himself if pressed. His usual action station was in control of the quadruple Lewis Machine Guns set up to cover our dead arc. He revelled in that duty but was not at all happy to have enemy planes overhead without the means of retaliation at hand and that night he seemed nervous and on edge. A pail of hot chocolate was bubbling away on the coal stove just inside the Picket Hut and I decided to relieve Tommy for a short break and some refreshment. As we changed over I chatted away trying to re-assure him that even if the planes overhead were to drop their bombs they would land at least two miles from our position.
What folly that proved to be for the words had barely left my mouth when a stick of high explosive bombs fell amongst us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tommy dive for the shelter of the gun pit but I was caught half in half out of the Picket Hut with a rifle dangling from my shoulder impeding my movement. A tremendous blast of warm compressed air plucked me off my feet and slammed me back to the ground where my head came into hard contact with an iron framed bedstead inside the hut. As the world began to spin around me the coal range rushed forward spewing hot coals and ash in it's path and the pail of hot chocolate clattered to the floor adding it's contents to the general chaos and confusion.
I remember looking up and seeing a starry sky where I felt sure the roof of the hut should have been and as the stench of cordite mingled with the acrid smell of burning khaki serge I wondered for a brief moment if the man with the scythe had been unsure in which direction to send me. Then in the gloom I was conscious of Tommy Alien helping me to my feet I felt shaken and dizzy but more angry than anything else at the wanton waste of all that delicious nectar. Tommy seemed suddenly to have lost his nervousness he thrust a torch into my hand and together we went stumbling over debris in search of Toddy.
The sleeping hut was a complete shambles just one wall was left standing - against it the roof angled down and sandwiched in that narrow angle we found Toddy. I thought he was dead at first he lay on his back still in bed but with an ugly weal across his forehead where some shelf or suchlike must have struck him. As we moved forward to examine him more closely Toddy stirred and by the tirade of blasphemous invective that streamed forth we quickly concluded that Toddy was not only very much alive but distinctly not amused at having his sleep disturbed in such drastic fashion.
With the first light of morning I set the Detachment to work filling in craters and restoring some resemblance of order to our shattered site. As I explained to the men we had had our evening of rest and relaxation and once the armourers had finished their task it would be back to business as usual. The raiders would be back with the dusk of evening and when they came we would be ready to make our contribution to discouraging them and Tommy Alien was not the only one to be cheered by that prospect.
I went back to the Picket Hut where hanging on the one remaining vertical wall was the ladle we had used for stirring the chocolate. It had been almost cut through by a piece of shrapnel and as I touched it the spoon end broke off and fell to the floor. Somehow it seemed symbolic of our close encounter and that tenuous thread between life and death. The coal range was a tangled mass of twisted metal but clearly it had been my protector and benefactor that night. Cattle in an adjoining field had not been quite so fortunate and carcasses were strewn over the grass and bits of them hung grotesquely from the wire fences around the fields. In those dreadful days of World War II close encounters with danger and even death were commonplace - the difference was such encounters usually happened to somebody else.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.