大象传媒

You will get it back when it's over.
Having been in the North African desert now for some months we were politely requested by our sergeant, "Right yous blokes, drop what yu is doin' an' listen ter me, ---kilt sporran spats and all the gear yu aint be goin tu be usin' in the desert ah wan yu tu put it all in yu black kit bag cos it's goin 'ome tu Blighty.(Britain)
All yous blokes wi' photy alybums ger rid of em cos yu ain't goin' ter ev time tu luke at em not no more, o.k."
"But rest assured yous will get it all back when all this is over" but he forgot to add, " Those of you that are lucky enough to get back to Blighty".

So we sorted everything out and put all the gear we could spare into the black kit bag and soon a pile of these were sitting on the sand. It was collected by truck later and we watched as our treasured possessions disappeared in the swirling dust as the truck sped along the track.

The gear we retained was kept in a white kit bag.
For a while we used this as a pillow until it was also whisked off to Alex and put in a safe place, and could be retrieved at short notice.

We ended up with more or less what we stood up in, and a like uniform would be on it's way to Alex and the Dhobi Walla to wash and iron and if it did not get blown up on the way to or from Alex.
Then we could look forward to a nice clean pressed uniform for next week.

Most days the sky was clear with no clouds and the sun would be beating onto the sand and rocks and if you didn't think and decided to stop and have a sit down for a wee bitty rest you could suddenly get a hot bum.

One time a bloke came back off leave and upset all the lads.
Having just finished their dinner of small packet of hard biscuits and a bit of bully beef, they were discussing the meat pies, steaks, other savouries one could acquire at Lyons corner house in London.
Suddenly there was a noise like some one was frying an egg.
Someone yelled "What the bloody 'ell d'yu think yu doin' wi' mi' truck, gerroff it"
The bloke ignored him and continued basting the two eggs he was frying on the flat top of the trucks front mudguard.

The old hands would say nothing but sometimes one would grin or wink at his mate and they would nod.
Happy memories of India no doubt.

Sometimes we would get a new Officer to take over while our bloke had a spot of leave in Cairo or Alexandria.
This new bloke would jump out of the 15 cwt Morris P.U. Truck.
Stamp on the ground to ease his cramped legs, then stretch his arms up to Heaven.
Some one would whisper, "Don't reach up theer matey, yu'll be there soon enough".

Usually the truck was used by most Officers as transport and keeping their esky of cold drinks in.
One day I inquired "Why can't we have an esky full of cold drinks?"
"You can" said the Sgt, "Do you have the money to pay for it?"
That ended the conversation.

I remember one day on an exercise, one of these trucks was racing past us and he hit a bump and the esky in the back catapulted out and landed with a bang onto the sand.
One of our blokes went over and upon finding a full frozen bottle of Johny Walker Scotch Whisky with the glass shattered, he picking off the broken glass he walked on sucking the frozen whisky like an ice lolly.
When we found him later he burped "I'm pissed, hic".

Having jumped out of the P. U. the new Officer would, if he had anything about him, call everyone over and have a natter, like "I'm so and so, and hope we can get on together", and sort of general " I'm o.k. Jack how are you".
And when the pleasantries have been exchanged he might terminate the confab by turning away and putting binoculars to eyes would sweep the shimmering horizon while muttering something like "Bladdy charming, nothing but miles and miles of s--t coloured f-k all"

So we dug holes in the S.C.F.A. Pooh to live in, and put our ground sheets over the hole to keep the sun out, then we would make a brew of tea by half filling an old petrol tin with sand and soaking it with petrol, stick a match to it and walla, good as a gas stove.

The petrol tin was about about 30cm by30cm by 45cm and was made of thin tin and some times if the seam split you could lose all your petrol or have a nasty accident.

The Germans had a far superior fuel container known to us as a Jerry Can.
And some of our lads used to spout "If Jerry can so can we" I don't know to what they were referring however.

The inactivity was boring, the same hot sun every day, the same bully and biscuits every day, the same warm smelly water laced with tablets to do in those nasty little buggers that were just waiting to do you a mischief, or to quote one burly Highlander
"Ah wood'ny drenk thaat watter, eff'n there's nae taablets en et, ets foo o' wee creepie craawlie thengs, an they dae thengs tae yer ensides, yince they get 'en." and he would add, "D'ye no ken whit ah'm sayen tae yez aw?"

The mail truck would come but no mail for me so I just did what every one else did mooch round and have a yarn to this bloke, then make sure my rifle was clean.

Check my gear to make sure no creepy crawlies have got into my equipment, like a 15inch long centipede or a scorpion that owing to it's size could easily have been mistaken for a small lobster.
Then scan the quivering horizon for little black dots or clouds of dust, then relax, for a short time any way because you can't relax for too long.
An example on how alert we were manifested itself one day as I was sitting there on the sand counting the sand grains when I noticed the sand move about fifty yards away.

I watched but since for about five minutes there was nothing obvious, so I thought perhaps a small lizard or simular was under the sand.

But then the sand moved again at a different spot and I began to get a bit apprehensive, was I seeing things, so I called to one of the nearest blokes, "Did yu see that".
He looked up from writing on a pad of writing paper and said, "Did ah see whit?"
"The sand moved" said I.
"Ochyer sand happy" said he wi a grin.
"I saw the bloody sand move" I exploded.

Just then there was a kind of sighing sound and the paper on his pad he was holding began to flutter like a trapped bird.
Then to my left the sand moved as though there was some one invisible with an invisible vacuum cleaner with no bag on it drawing a line through the sand.
Then the sand and dust began to spiral upwards and like a ghostly figure in baggy pants it spiralled away across the dunes, some times changing it's mind and coming back a few paces then gliding ever further away, finally it was out of sight.
The bloke with the writing pad looked at me and then said "Shet, ahm gey I glad ah hevn'y been at the baw'tle ti day:
One day while the water truck was away and the officers P.U. was away I was sitting in my dug out yarning with a couple of our blokes when one bloke stuck his hand up and put his finger to his lip and we stopped nattering and listened.

Sure enough in the distance the sound of a motor so we peeked over the top and there was nothing but flat sand as far as the eye could see with a bit of scrub here and there.
To any one stood on top looking round he could not even tell there was a position here.
In the far distance was a tiny cloud of dust coming our way.
It looked like the wind willy willy that had formed and left us about ten minutes ago and was now coming back our way.

But as we watched there appeared to be a solid middle to it and began to take the form of a truck
And it was indeed a truck moving at speed.
Keeping an eye on it we waited till we were sure it was one of ours, then we continued with our debate.
We kept checking on the truck.
Until finally the truck was about three feet away from our dugout when it stopped, and a very educated voice said "But they MUST be here somewhere, we've been everywhere else.

One of our blokes suddenly popped up from under a sanded groundsheet covering the hole we were in and asked "Can I help you sir?"
The Officer with the white knees leaped about three feet in to the air, and upon recovering his composure snarled, "Don't you salute Officers out here then?"
Well poor begger, I suppose our bloke did give him a bit of a start.
Because the Officer had slightly knock knees for a long time after that we had a "Knock knock, " "Who's there?" Whitney", "Whitney who?", "Whitney be in your shoes fer quids" and "There'll be knock knees over the white cliffs of Dover etc"
The water truck came back before dark and we got an issue of half a water bottle and a tablet to put in it the very next morning.

The Driver said "There's some magazines in the cab if any of you blokes are interested"
"Oh yea," said a voice, "How tu keep bleedin' gold fish ah shouldn't wonder"
"Naw", said the Driver "Unless gold fish 'as legs 'an tits"
Suddenly there was a mad scramble, and the Driver stood back and just grinned as blokes sat on the sand co-ed "Cor look at 'em," and "She can 'ave the top off my egg any time!"
And "ere, borra me 'anky, yer droolin' mate",
What wouldn't we have given for an ice-cold glass of beer with the tears streaming down the outside of the glass.

Little did we know what all this re-shuffling and extra route marching was all about until we were casually informed that we were going for another route march on the morrow...

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