大象传媒

As was the practice, a message was left on my bunk, five days rations for five men. This was a most unusual job, we had to report to the Army movements at Le Havre Port in France, we normally reported to RAF Movements. The guards woke the five that were involved for an early breakfast, it was getting light, we collected our rations then set off for Le Havre. It must have been nearly midday when we arrived, "Oh yes, we have been expecting you, it is very urgent". We were directed to a loading bay to collect our cargo. It consisted of large drums of telephone cables, we were given the units name and number and location in Germany, and also that all important map reference. With "its urgent" once again ringing in our ears, we departed.

We drove until it was nearly dark, it depended on how many vehicles were in the convoy that decided where we stayed the night. This trip was just right, the five of us could stop almost anywhere, we stopped in a small village in France, as soon as we parked, as if by magic children appeared from nowhere. "Cigarettes for pappa, chocolate for Mama", came the familiar cry; they always received something. The first job was always to
to boil some water for that vital cup of tea, before we tackled the meal. We had no primus stoves or other cooking utensils; on many occasions the local population would boil the water, in some instances even do the cooking in their kitchens. We always had a gallery of spectators to see us perform, all great fun, you can rest assured that there was not an ounce of fat on our bodies. After the meal, perhaps a beer in the local cafe, then back to the Dodge.

Early morning saw our journey out of France into Belgium, Holland and Germany. We knew that we were approaching our destination by the flashes in the twilight sky. We stopped and chatted amongst ourselves, what should we do? There was not much light left,press on to deliver our loads, then return here for the night? or deliver our cargo first thing in the morning? With "its urgent" foremost in our memory, we decided to press on.

It was normal practice for a unit to put up road signs to direct travellers, such as us to their HQ. This unit had done a good job. By now the roads had large potholes everywhere, evidence of recent encounters, as it grew darker the flashes became brighter, the noise much louder, then the sign that we were looking for, the company HQ.

We informed the guard of our load, he called to someone to call the sergeant. Won't take long now we thought. "Ah" exclaimed the sergeant, "you have arrived, we have been expecting you". Before he could give us a speech of welcome, we interjected, "where do we unload"? "Ah" once again. "Unfortunately, the H.Q. moved up the line this morning, we are the rear guard, it is no good unloading here, tomorrow morning, a D.R. will escort you to our new H.Q., park over there and get your heads down" As he turned away he added " Do not light fires, your never know whose about!"

That day we had eaten very little, just cups of tea to drink, our five RAF hero's were a little despondent. "Whose idea was it to drive on?" It was too late now, we had arrived. The suggestion to get some sleep was good, but in reality, it was difficult. I retired to my makeshift bed in the rear of the Dodge. Sleeping was out of the question, I often clambered over those drums of telephone cable to peer out of the rear flaps,that night, it was a little misty, flash lightening across the sky, I crawled back over the drums to my bed. How many times had I made that useless movement during the night. I shudder to think. I was looking longingly for that ray of light to herald the dawn. Finally on one of my over the drums visits I saw one of the other drivers. I soon joined him on the ground. You can imagine, the two of us with shoulders hunched, hands in pockets walking in small circles. Time stood still, we were so different to when we had decided to drive on and deliver that urgent load to our "Tommies"

As dawn broke our sergeant appeared, "Ah I see that you are ready", he must have felt that we were really keen. An Officer came from out of a tent, we all threw up an RAF Salute, "longest way up, shortest way down",
'will we ever forget that'? "Well done you RAF bods, thanks for your help, I understand that you are going to deliver the cable to our new position?" We threw up another salute. The noise of a motor bike started up, it will not be long now. "Follow me" the D.R. explained, "I will not be going fast". Little did he know that he was talking to the fastest column on the continent!

Once on the move things seemed to be brighter, that cup of tea was clearly getting nearer. Then we realised why the DR had said that he would not be going fast. The roads were in a complete mess, pot holes everywhere, the largest hurriedly filled in; burnt out lorries and tanks pushed to the side, and from time to time we had to stop to allow traffic coming back
down the line, ambulances amongst them, to pass. This was really it, we had only been playing at soldiers up till then!

On one of those numerous stops, a single line of soldiers trudged towards us, dirty looking, dead tired, steel helmets on the back of their heads; rifles hung over their shoulders, their eyes, yes I will always remember those eyes, deep in the back of their faces. I felt so humble. Suddenly one of them stopped, he looked at me in the cab "Brylcream Boys", he remarked."We must be a long way back". I smiled as he walked on. I thought how can he have a sense of humour at a time like this !! I went from feeling humble, to feeling proud, proud to be on the same side as these brave men. I followed him in my driving mirror, I remember saying "Please God let him survive". Fifty two years later, I think to myself, when did he have a hot cup of tea, when did he have a hot meal, when did he have a good night's sleep?

To the young one's I have to explain "Brylcream Boys", it was a nickname
given to the RAF boys by the Army. We were always dressed smartly, shiney brass buttons, collar and ties, hair smartly groomed using that well know hair cream .....

Our D.R. pulled into a field of tents, their new H.Q. We were soon unloaded, a friendly wave to our tommies, we were back on our way back. At the first convenient spot, we stopped for something to eat and drink. We spoke of the things that we had seen, "Did you see that tank, did you see that lorry, did you see......." and so it went on; we all agreed that we were so lucky to be in the RAF.

I still think of that soldier, was it the British sense of humour that won us the war? it so often lifted our moral in those darkest days, we always seemed to find a reason to smile.

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