大象传媒

The Bush Shirt

Our turn for gun duty came round pretty regularly, so that you would know roughly when it was your turn. You and the other lads would receive your order via the gun site order board. It was part of your duty to keep an eye on that sometime during the evening because orders for the next day would be posted then. This was really no problem as you would usually be on with the same crowed as their turn would come round the same time as yours with Imaybe at times some minor changes.

If you were to miss a duty you would be charged with being absent on parade. This was a serious charge as it was tantamount to disobeying a direct order. It was no excuse to say you had'nt seen he Board this was a crime in its self and only compounded your offence.

The most important thing to watch out for was ;BHQ Guard that was Battery Head Quarters Guard, it came round very rarely and you might be the only one from the site to be nominated for it. The first warning you got that you'd been nominated for the dubious honour was other taking the Mickey because you had to be especially smartened up for it. This meant all buttons sewn on, boots blackened with a mixture of margarine and soot taken from the tea boiler! Puttees dug out from the bottom of your kit bag or if you were not in possession of this article dating back to the First World War you polished the tags on your gaiters. We were supposed to iron our bush shirts but it was only the posh gunners that went that far.

Having first been inspected by our own orderly sergeant and declared ready we like Cinders went off to the ball We'd have to wait for a lorry (not a coach as Cinders had) to come round at 17:30 hrs (half past five in the afternoon) to pick us up so that we'd be in time for parade at Battery HQ. We'd then be inspected first by an Orderly Sergeant and then by a Battery Sergeant Major and then by an Adjutant or sometimes the Battery commander a Major would come out and inspect us.

(Phew! what a lot to man the guns'. Wonder if they would insist on us sewing on any stray buttons if the Africa Corp were looming up over the nearest sand dune. I expect you can imagine what would happen given that eventuality. Lucky then that Rommel was'nt interested in if I'd pressed my shirt or sown all my buttons on!)

After all was thought to be present and correct we'd be marched off to the guard room. This was a tent on the outskirts of the BHQ. The head quarters it self was a scatter of EPIP tents, for those who don't know these tents were square double fly tents about 12 feet to the sides. There'd be camp beds as well as a table and chairs inside (quite luxurious really!)

The Guard Commander would most probably be a Bombardier from another section who would organise us into shifts, we'd then settle down for the long wait till morning or until action which given the nature of own position on the battle front was at that time unlikely. It was not only my buttons that Rommel wasn't interested in as he had far more pressing matters else where at that time. After our long night wait we would then return to our separate gun-sites to continue our duties there (or what was more likely catch up on our lost sleep!). We would then await the invitation to once more attend the ball.

I hated guard duty on the gun-site it was so boring, standing about for hours with nothing to do grated on me, unless you were on with a mate the two hours on stag used to drag so slowly. This particular gun-site was next to the Suez Canal and it was mid-summer 1942 we had just come down from Iraq where it would have been hotter (but not by much). They say that the nights in the desert are bitterly cold, well, I can tell you that didn't apply to the bit I was in! The Sinai desert was steaming hot, the moon was brilliant, it was almost like day, the tents stood out like elongated solid blocks of shadow. It was my job to patrol round and between these tents, marauding Arabs were the problem, pinch the shirt of your back if you were'nt looking. But it was not from that quarter that I would have trouble that night.

No! My trouble would come from quite another quarter, a very much unexpected one at that.
'Halt who goes there?. I was instantly alert, nerves stretched ready for action at close quarters with any who felt foolhardy enough to try and breach our security on such a bright moonlight night. The shadow moved again and once more I called out the challenge

Halt who goes there. No reply. Again I shouted louder 'Halt who goes there? Followed by 'Halt or I fire!' Raising my rifle while at the same time putting one up the spout which (cocked the firing mechanism).

A shaky voice came out of the darkness. 'Friend'.

I shouted 'Come forward ,friend, and be recognised' I still kept my rifle aimed, slowly out of the shadow came a tall figure, it detached itself from the side of the tent and as he approached I could see that it was Major Johnson, our Battery Commander. I said 'Alright, friend, come forward you are recognised'.

He came closer 'What's your name'?he asked.

'Gunner Rose of 'B' Troop I replied.

'Well! Gunner Rose, congratulations for being so alert''Thank you, Sir, and good night'I replied.

'Good night' he replied .As he went to walk past me. Hello' he said,stopping at my side what鈥檚 this?'

He was pointing at my waist I was puzzled for a moment then I replied 'What' looking at him in a mystified manner.(I had heard that this bloke was a bit round the twist,so was rather wary of him)
'That' he said.
He pointed again there.

'Oh it's my bush shirt' I replied for a moment releived by my explanation.

'But! it's outside your trousers! he exclaimed.

'Yes, sir, as it's a hot night I pulled it out to let the air circulate round my body' I explained.

He staggered back 'Don't you realise you are improperly dressed he asked.

'No sir,I tried to explain,somewhat alarmed, it's a bush shirt you can wear it out or in. Look there are pockets below the waist. You can wear it the way you want' I insisted feeling rather foolish and becoming some what alarmed at having to explain the rules of dress code in the steaming heat in the middle of the night.

'Don't be impertinent' he told me and went on to amaze me by saying 'Consider yourself under Open Arrest for being improperly dressed while on parade'.

I saw through him now, he had originally tried to catch me off guard by sneaking round the camp and when that failed he stretched the rules to catch me out with my shirt. It was ridicules here I was a sentry with a loaded rifle and bayonet and this idiot was putting me of all things under open arrest.In my dazed and surprised condition I spared a fleeting thought for what would King's Rules & Regs say about that!

I was soon to find out because the officer soon returned with an equally bemused Guard Commander. I was then relived and replaced by another guard. As I was near the end of my duty it meant that I had only needed to be replaced few a short while. Never the less I was not popular for this extra to the guard duties no matter how small.

Back at the guard room all the other guards crowed round wanting to know what had gone wrong and what was now going on. Having first remembered to unload my rifle I endeavoured to explain the situation. At first they refused to believe me. How could I be relieved from duty for that? they asked. How could I be put on a fizzer for such a trivial thing? They thought I'd done some thing far worse. 'Come on, Rosie, what was it?' they all wanted to know.

But I assured them 'It's because my shirt was out!';

Of course, by now the whole of BHQ was buzzing we could hear murmurings from other tents as the occupants were informed and then tried to get back to sleep again sure that this rumour had to be wrong, surly no one would be so trivial not even an officer!

Come the morning and all the guards were sent back to their own gun-sites, it was not long before the tale of Rosie latest escapade was all over the camp. An unofficial reception committee awaited me! All with their shirts hanging out. This was really quite posh because usually none of us wore shirts! Our normal dress on the gun-sites being shorts, socks and boots or our pale khaki/yellow boiler suits.

It was'nt long though before I was summoned to the troop office, to appear before the troop O.C.!!

Now here was character Capt Firth by name. Rumour had it that he came from an old Army family, If that were true it was a puzzle what he was doing in a territorial unit. The last time I was up before him was when I was when he granted me leave to go home and get married when we were stationed in Goole Yorkshire way back in 1941.

Six foot two, slim built, very upright carriage, very blond with startling sky blue eyes. Thin lips a sharp crisp voice and I'd never known him to smile. He sat behind a table and I was marched in before him.

He was studying a piece of paper he raised his head and his eyes came into view. They flicked over me. Anything to say he coldly asked.

'No, sir'

'Very well, seven days mount with the guard'

It was the lightest punishment he could inflict.

Sighing with relief I spun on my heel and was marched out.

Mount with the guard an informal punishment that only caused the victim a lot of inconvenience as he would have to parade in FSMO that is Full Service Marching Order. I would have to have all my kit packed away in my Haversack as well as a full water bottle. It was no real hardship; it could be imposed by junior officers and did not go on your record. It was adopted by some units instead of CB confined to Barracks which had to go on a soldier record. CB punishment was more sever because as well as mounting with the guard it was usually followed by an hours pack drill and of course no evening leave as would be normal in any unit. Although evening leave did not apply to us as we were unable to leave our gun-site at any time as part of our usual regime.

So mounting with the guard wasn't bad but it did mean that I would have to give up my afternoon kip, I'd instead have to spend the afternoon bulling up my kit in order to be ready for the inspection at 18:00 hrs. As I sorted out my kit bag for the first evening inspection I was not in the best of moods. I could not help but think '*** this for a game of soldiers'. I looked round for something to put in my valise, that is the big pack a soldier wears on his back. I tried stuffing it with paper but that was no good as it only made it look like a giant football and anyway there was'nt enough paper. I racked my brains, all the lads tried to help and then one had the idea that I go across to the cook house and see Titch Cotton perhaps he had something I could use.

He laughed when I told him what it was that I wanted, after a while looking round he exclaimed 'Here, try this'. He offered me two old boxes that had contained porridge.

They looked good have you got another' I asked hopefully.

'Here if I empty the oats out, you can have this one as well' he offered helpfully.

I stuffed all three in a sack and smuggled them into my tent. The tents we had were originally designed to hold eight beds but we had dug into the salty sand of the Sinai a pit with steps down into it the same size as the tent and our tents became quite roomy.

Me with my mates all gathered round prizes together found that if you cut into the boxes they fitted into the valise and made the pack stand up nice and square. One cut in half fitted very nicely into the haversack. I was now ready for parade. I heard the order Guard Fall In and that was my cue. I marched across the Gun Park to the place where the guard usually paraded and fell in with them. Under the instructions of the orderly sergeant and after a bit of shuffling about we got ourselves in some sort of order for the guard inspection.

I was nervously glancing out of the corner of my eye anxious to see who the guard inspector might be. With a bit of luck it might be the Sheriff of El Shatt a nice old boy who was at least thirty if he was a day. We called him the Sheriff because (a) he was bow legged and (b) because he always carried his pistol low on his right leg. His real name and rank was Lt DeVasse as I say a nice old boy of thirty and not really soldier material at all.

'Oh ! Hell. It's Firth!

My goose was cook nothing would get by him.

The Orderly Sergeant inspected the guard and then it was my turn!

All was OK!

He marched over to the Inspecting Officer 'Guard ready for inspection ,'Sah!

'Very good' and the officer leading, they approached the right hand man of the guard.

Slowly Capt. Firth's eyes roamed up and down taking in every detail ''Hmm! he murmured. Whether that was in praise or some thing else for the man parading in front of him I could not tell. In all fairness though he really couldn't expect much after all we had just come over from Baghdad, some of our artillery boiler suits were in tatters, our KD Drill was all different colours and repaired by ourselves with all different colours of thread and half the buttons were missing.

He moved on to the next man.

Silence.

All the lads were peering out under the flaps in the tents in the area of the parade, those few who were in the know watched with baited breath.

My turn!

I stood up straight, shoulders back, any trace of emotion banished form my face my eyes set firmly on the desert in front of me. I shut the thoughts of where I was from my mind, it had been here in so distant a past that the wandering tribes of Israel had roamed, slaves of the Egyptians they had made their escape from the Egyptians across this desert.

He walked behind me.

Those slaves the children of Israel had been chased but the LORD their God had not forsaken them.

I felt the valise leave my back. He was weighing it. The same thing happened to the haversack, then my water bottle was checked.

I kept my eyes straight in front of me.

The children of Israel had run from their captures and Pharaoh and all his great army had been drown in the might Red Sea.

I held my breath he'd rumbled me, he know there was no way I could ever pack my stuff as regulation smart as my packs and trying to fool him could get me into serious trouble. Now I really was for it.

He went past, he left me behind and concentrated on the rest of those standing there waiting for his inspection. I could hardly believe it but more from this officer I had never seen smile and had always thought over officious was still soon to come.

Looking closely at a guard further down the line he turned to the parade sergeant 'This man needs a hair cut take his name, sergeant!

Then he marched out in front of the guard, a few words with the guard commander and then
'Carry on'.

'Sah!.

The officer marched off.

'Guard to your duties, fall out'

The sergeant turned to me
'Defaulter'
(now I was for it. Now I was sure I'd get the bad news, what would it be, in my anxiety I could see myself sweating out an hours drill on the parade ground The sergeant continued 'Defaulter ,dismiss!' What! Dismiss, not Fall out. To you there might not be any difference in the two words but to me there was a world of difference. Fall out meant come back latter and go through all this all over again. Dismiss meant just what it says go away, no more will be said.

I stood for a moment wondering if I had heard correctly. Yes I had hear, he had said 'Dismiss' I turned to the right and just managed not to fall as I tottered off the parade ground.

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