大象传媒

No sooner had we settled into our new quarters than, sure enough the shells started coming over. I think the Germans must have been aware of the change over. I was, naturally, apprehensive but was, at the same time not having been shelled before, aware of a curious fact. One was firstly aware of the impact and explosion of the shell close enough at times to spill sand over one. This explosion was followed very closely by the sound of the shell as it rushed through the air and lastly the bang of the gun which started it on its way. All in reverse order! Whenever there was a quiet spell tin hatted heads would pop up from the other slit trenches in the vicinity and anxious voices enquired, 鈥� you alright, mate?鈥� As I recall our dinner was very late that first night, it seems that the cook's lorry had got itself well and truly lost. The shelling did not last too long and we all probably got some sleep.

Next morning I found that my location was close to the wire and that the slit trench nearest to me had been filled in with a simple cross erected over it. I do not think we were very long in this location. More than a couple of nights anyway. I remember challenging a returning recce party one night and was also much aware of the noises from the enemy not all that far away. A broken tank close to us on the other side of the wire had tempted some bold Maori spirits in a search for souvenirs. All they found inside was a brown dried fly invested mess. An armour piercing shell had penetrated the side and ricocheted around inside!

And now we were on the move again. As in any army the world over the lower ranks know not the why鈥檚 and wherefores, they just obeyed the order to move or to stay. It became clear to us that now, however, something was ON. I had, for some time, been suffering with 鈥楪ippey Tummy鈥� necessitating frequent visits to the toilet and, weak and weary, I did not relish the prospect of the coming events, whatever they might be. However, no excuses were accepted and after a long day's march through the guns; sometimes being shelled, we arrived in the dark at the forward minefield. Here we rested awhile whilst the engineers laid tapes through the minefield to mark our way.

It was a beautiful night; the stars very bright as we waited. I must not forget to make the point that we were accompanied by light vehicles as we wended our way to the far side of the minefield. Now there was nothing between us and the enemy. As we congregated beyond the minefield we were given a dose of shelling. Shells landing amongst us, because of the underlying rocky surface did not penetrate and consequently the burst was outwards rather than upwards. Some casualties were thus sustained.

Now, accompanied by the vehicles we formed up and advanced. We didn鈥檛 get far. Suddenly a bright parachute flare lit the sky above us exposing us to the enemy view. We one and all hit the deck. The light was immediately followed by machine gun and shell fire. The sight of tracer bullets coming at you is decidedly unnerving! Whilst I was engaged in crawling away from the immediate vicinity of the vehicles one of them was hit close behind me. There was a great flash and I screamed. The scream was caused not by terror, although prior to it I was pretty scared, but by the pressure of the explosion on my body. My backside and left leg had been blasted with shrapnel. When I became aware that I was still alive, I began to check what damage these might have been. Wiggle body 鈥� okay. Wiggle head, likewise okay. Both arms okay. Also right leg. Left leg and reasoned not so okay but still useable. Incidentally, when, in later years, questioned as to why my injuries were in my rear end I have stoutly maintained that, in spite of appearances, I was facing toward the enemy!

Now we advanced no further and started a withdrawal. As to how the order to withdraw was passed, at night and in the heat of battle I shall never know, but when we were moving forward I, being interested in the stars, had observed the direction of our forward movement and was able to point out in the confusion the direction of withdrawal. I have a memory of hobbling with my rifle used as a crutch with tracer bullets zipping around.
Next we encountered some tanks and clambering aboard were driven away. The next thing I recall is waking up in a slit trench and it was now daylight and quite peaceful. An ambulance nearby was picking up the pieces. The ambulance crew, after checking over who was dead and who alive, gave me a shot of morphine and loaded me into their wagon. By now due to shock or morphine or both, I had become somewhat light-headed and thought I could see through the sides of the ambulance!

Collection and distribution of casualties was very well organised, first stop being the Advanced Dressing Station where doctors and medical orderlies, stripped to the waist, were kept busy attending to the wounded. Since my injuries were not serious I had to wait whilst the more urgent cases were attended to. All the while I was worrying that they were going to start picking out the shrapnel I had acquired but, after inspecting my rather sore rear end and leg they just slapped a dressing on here and there. From the Advance Dressing Station, duly labelled, I was next transported to the Main Dressing Station and from thence to the Casualty Clearing Station. From there we, the wounded, were transported to the railhead, put on a train and taken back to Egypt. There, in a tented hospital I was made comfortable and there met my brother Ken who had also been wounded in the same action. His were flesh wounds fortunately, one in the head and one in his back missing his spine by a fraction.

After two or three weeks in hospital, I was posted to a convalescent camp in Southern Palestine, and a week or so later back to the Base Holding Camp. Both Ken and I came to the decision that life in the Infantry was rather too hazardous and when a notice was put up on the board asking for men to be trained as parachutists we, in spite of the old Army maxim that one should never volunteer for anything, volunteered! Still in Egypt we were sent to a parachute training camp. There we learned how to fall; feet and knees together, elbows tucked in, bodies bent. There we made exits from simulated aircraft; red light, green light, go! We leapt off moving vehicles and simulated drops, cord attached, in the hanger and now came the real thing.

Early one morning 鈥� early to avoid the air disturbance caused by midday heat, trussed up in our parachute harness and scared, we awaited our fate. Waited, cracking weak jokes and laughing nervously. As I recall our first descent was to be from a Wellington bomber adapted for parachuting. With the parachutes on our backs we clambered, with some difficulty, into the plane and walked carefully along a catwalk toward the latter end of the aircraft. There were six of us to jump and we were disposed around a circular opening in the floor of the plane.

We took off and gained a height of about a thousand feet over the landing area. Two at a time facing one another we positioned ourselves with feet through the hole. Our parachutes had been already attached by a webbing strap to a strong point inside the aircraft. From the ready position one looked up to where there were two light bulbs, one red and the other green. At a signal from the pilot to the RAF dispatcher the red light was extinguished and the green light came on. The dispatcher鈥檚 raised arm dropped and, above the roar of the aircraft he yelled, 鈥淕O 1, GO 2!鈥�

The plane now made a circuit to bring it round over the dropping zone once more and the procedure was repeated. My turn came and out I went with a whoosh of air and a sudden jerk as the chute opened and then I was floating peacefully down. The moment of relaxed relief was all too short. Soon the ground was suddenly much closer and shouted instructions from below brought one back to reality! Overcoming my urge to reach down with my feet I held my position. Even so I made a bad landing and sprained my ankle. We were scheduled to make a second jump that day but by that time my ankle was so badly swollen that I could scarcely walk and was quite unable to jump.

Now, for the second time I was back in hospital and remained there for a week. By the time I was discharged the parachute training school had moved to Palestine. I think that this move was precipitated by too many bad landings in Egypt. After all, apart from air disturbances caused by heat, the hard packed sand had a lot less give than a ploughed field.

I now resumed my training in Palestine. This time from a Hudson aircraft and, on one occasion, in the same 鈥榮tick鈥� as brother Ken. In all we jumped five times including once by night. Our descents varied in height from about a thousand feet down to about four hundred feet. From the latter height no sooner had one left the aircraft than one had to be ready to land. Fortunately I suffered no further injury and was able to proudly put a parachute badge on my uniform.

At the same time as doing parachute training, we were also receiving wireless telegraphy instruction. Not only did we have to be reasonably proficient in the Morse Code but also capable in making minor repairs to our wireless sets. To this end after much instruction we were sent individually or in pairs from our base station, situated on the hill overlooking the city of Haifa to various outposts such as Alexandria in Egypt, Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee which is some six hundred feet below sea level. (On the mountainside above the sea there was a sign with a blue line showing normal sea level).

Apart from Alexandria and Tiberias I recall one or two other outposts. With us we took the damaged wireless, an uncharged battery and a battery charger. First we had to charge up the battery. That done we were then required to find what faults had been put into the radio and to correct them. These tasks completed satisfactorily we then had to make radio contact with Base in Haifa. When they were satisfied we were picked up and returned once more to Base.

The city of Haifa was quite a lively place with cinemas and bars and no blackout and we made the most of what free time was allotted to us. One had to be very careful on returning to camp 鈥� it was guarded by the Kings African Rifles and very keen at the job they were!

Training over, we were individually allocated to a team. Teams were made up of an officer, Major Jeremy Faure-Field, a Commando soldier 鈥� Bill Eden (an out and out cockney lad), and a wireless operator, myself. Our team met up and came together in a house in Alexandria and although Bill Eden and I were ordinary private soldiers, we were treated on a par with the officers. Here we came under the aegis of a conducting officer whose job was to see that we had all we needed and, when the time came, to speed us on our way.

Came the day and we were transported by truck the long and tedious journey to the airfield at Derna in Tripolitania. Derna had long been vacated by the retreating enemy. Once settled in tents at Derna we were kitted out with everything we deemed necessary for our survival and comfort. It was one of the very few times that I had encountered a quartermaster sergeant willing and able to give whatever you suggested and no questions asked or forms to be signed!

When contact by radio had at last been established with the people who had preceded us to our assigned destination, and when meteoric conditions were deemed to be satisfactory, our time had come. In the late afternoon of a hot August day with parachutes on our backs and weighed down with our assorted kit we were to drop persons rather than bombs. With us was another three man team, this team being led by Major Tillman of Everest fame and included together with the (Scottish) wireless operator an S.A.S. trooper, the first and only one I was to encounter.

When we were all aboard the engines were started and the big four engined plane took off and headed in a north easterly direction. As the hours passed, one became accustomed to the continuous roar of the engines. My mood during those four hours oscillated between doubt and resignation. 鈥淗ow did I get into this situation?鈥� and then, 鈥淲hat the hell, no use crying over figurative spilt milk鈥�. At some stage during our journey we had something to eat and drink but I can no longer recall what or when.

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