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ficient in Arabic, after a few weeks in Italy later on he was equally able to converse in Italian.
By the 19th March we were again in forward positions before the Mareth Line. There were lengthy night moves, leaving crews very short of sleep. On the 22nd we moved by night again towing anti-tank guns forward.
After heavy shelling on the 23rd the Durham Light Infantry had to fall back, plastered with mud after rain. The usually despised 'V' cigarettes were handed out by our crew and much appreciated. We had
ample stocks of this official issue cigarette, only one of our crew of five being a smoker. We were offered half-a-crown (12p) a packet for V cigarettes, an unheard of price from desperate men, but we did not take anything for them.
Pulling out on the 24th, we were catching up on lost sleep in the morning when shrapnel rattling on the tank flattened us even closer to the ground.
On the 29th March we had a liberty trip to the coast for bathing. Willie and Ginger Mills missed the return truck. Willie had a dispute with a C Squadron lad, Stanley Skeels. Despite Stanley having some fame as a middleweight boxer Willie thumped him - and that was that.
The Mareth Line having been broken and Cabes captured,
we moved on thirty miles on 30th March and continued going forward on the next day.
On 1st April we took advantage of what seemed to be empty desert to test and adjust our gun sights. The first shot fired, howeverJ produced hordes of Bedouin, goats, sheep and camels streaming away in all directions from a landscape that had appeared void of all life.
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Just after the Mareth Line fell, our driver, Ginger Mills,
went sick with a bad ankle. Eric Chitty, ex-R.N. turned tankie, moved across from lap gunner to driver of the Sherman. Hookway came on the crew as lap gunner. Hookway was quite a character. One of his best
stories was his account of the attempted Egyptian revolt before Alamein in 1942. At the time, Hookway was at the Abassia base barracks just recovering from desert sores. All equipment that was of any use had
been sent to the desert. Hooky was one of the scratch crews scraped together to man three old medium tanks. These then trundled off to the
Abdin Palace to overawe King Farouk and his advisors, the crews holding their breath against the breakdown en route which seemed inevitable but did not happen.
At 6a.m. on the 9th April a long approach started. By 2p.m.
we were shooting at anti-tank guns and infantry. One truck, going away along a ridge, had a charmed life despite 75mm high explosive shell
bursts all round. In desperation, at extreme range, one armour piercing solid shot was fired. The truck stopped. Subsequently it was found to have had its propeller shaft cut through by the shot.
When we arrived at the truck there was no one in sight. It
was a quarter master's transport laden with cherry jam, uniforms, rifles} ammunition and even a large swastika flag. The clutch of one of the
twin diesel engines of the Sherman was giving trouble. It seemed a most appropriate spot to wait for the fitter's truck with the transport echelon, particularly as we were on the centre line of the advance and could hardly miss getting attention.
Hooky decided to investigate a farm house some distance away. It was a white walled building typical of Mussolini's Italian colonists
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in Libya. Hooky took a German rifle from the truck slung on his shoulder. Suddenly seven Germans sprang out of a slit trench. They insisted upon surrendering before Hooky had time to follow his instinct and put his hands up. So Hooky marched them back to our tank having unslung his rifle. This effect was spoiled by one of the Germans pointing out that he still had the safety catch on.
The approaching file was seen suddenly, by our driver. His gasp of "Germans! II did not get the gunner into his turret. From a different angle Hooky and his German armament could be seen bringing up
the rear.
Within five minutes the Germans were handing round photographs of their wives and girl friends. Much amusement was caused that evening when the tank commander required them to remove and hand over their boots. The transport column with the fitters had not yet caught up so there were only five tank crew to mount guard in turn until morning.
At night tank crews put their individual bed rolls of blankets inside a ground sheet side by side on the tank tarpaulin in the lee of the tank. The tarpaulin was then doubled back over the bed rolls to take the dew. Nights were usually clear and cold. Guard was changed by making sure the next man on was awake and dumping the tommy gun in his lap. Morning brought an awakening to a marvellous view of the dawn sky. One woke with a wonderful clear head without a trace of stuffiness.
Next day the prisoners were handed over. Hooky wore a German tunic he had picked up from the truck for some days until, sitting on the front of the tank, he received hostile comments from passing infantry taking him at face value. Thereupon he flogged the tunic to an Arab for a dozen eggs and the crew enjoyed a large omelette.

(41) The Highland Division were piped triumphantly into Sfax on the 10th April 1943. The 11th Hussars, reconaissance unit of the 7th Armoured Division, had been in there and out again the previous afternoon.
About this time the tank acquired Ethel, the resident hen. Living on broken biscuit, Ethel travelled in the blanket box on the back of the turret. She became a veteran of several actions. When it was time to move after a stop Ethel proved impossible to catch. Merely starting the engines, however, was sufficient for her to fly up to the blanket box.
As a supplier of eggs Ethel could not compgte with the fitters poultry. 'Bunker' Hill's truck had a tool box running the length of the vehicle. This housed half a dozen birds. However, by saving Ethel's eggs there was a weekly ration for each of the crew.
On the 13th we advanced one hundred miles to Kharouan, second only to Mecca as a holy city for Muslims. Chitty reached 37 miles per hour which was not bad for a 28 ton Sherman.
Nine days later our tank broke down, with one engine partially seized, after an oil change. After draining the old oil off, Chitty started the engine and moved a yard or so to ensure as much oil as possible was expelled. Unfortunately the tank was on a slight rise and the engine ran more than was advisable. So it was back to workshops and Chitty found himself on a '252' or charge. This much incensed Willie Dovey our wireless operator. It was an education to see how he contrived in small ways to make life uncomfortable for the tank commander during the next few weeks.
Our crew took over a Grant tank. This was an older model than the Sherman and had a crew of six. The main 75mm gun was mounted in the

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body of the tank on the right hand side with a restricted traverse. The turret had a 37mm gun as well as a machine gun. The engine was a Wright Cyclone rotary aero engine as compared with the Sherman twin diesel.
Although the Sherman was the more flexible in ~rmament operation, the
Grant was good on crew comfort. The wireless operator was in the turret also acting as loader for the 37mm. Thus the 75mm loader had no other duties and was available and had space to brew up and cook
inside the tank. When matters warmed up outside, a brew could be made
in a Sherman turret but space was limited with gunner, loader cum wireless operator and tank commander. There was an occasion at Mareth when the small pressure stove caught fire in the turret of the Sherman. It was promptly flung out on to the sand. The gunner then climbed out to
retrieve the now extinguished stove. This amazed other crews watching.
What the gunner thought was the last expiring flame from the stove as he got out was, in fact, the flash of a German shot landing alongside.
At the beginning of May we moved on with the tanks on transporters via Karouan, Thala and Le Kef. Mountain scenery was a novelty. Here we met the First Army who had landed in Algeria in November 1942.
They had an abundance of rations. Our driver was now George Onions. He He asked one First Army man, "Where do yow come from?" and was asked in reply how far from Wolverhampton did he live?
The Grant, reconditioned as it was, broke down. We appeared to be developing into a workshop crew. However, we were fortunate to
take over a new Sherman, passed for export in the U.S.A. on 24th .rch 1943 although already minus its clock from the instrument panel.
The following day, 6th May 1943, we moved up to Medjez el Bab. We were then in action against the Herman Goering Regiment. The only

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damage we sustained was from American Boston aircraft. They bombed us and blew the brew kit off the back of the tank," We had to improvise
drinking mugs out of small biscuit tins. The standard method of brewing up outside the tank was to pour a carefully calculated slurp out of a four gallon jerrycan of petrol into the bottom half of an old, large,
square biscuit tin. The water container was then balanced on top and a match tossed into the petrol. With experience the water would boil
just as the flames died away and tea was sprinkled on the water. The
official kit was a small pressure stove but life was too short to wait for that. One aspect of changing from petrol engined tanks to diesel
was the amount of petrol for 'cleaning' which was requested. Diesel oil was of no use for brew purposes.
After shooting up an 88mm anti-tank gun, on the morning of the 7th May, we were within seven kilometres of Tunis by nightfall. The German 88mm gun, originally for anti-aircraft work, was a very good
weapon. If spotted, however, the crew were vulnerable to high explosive shells fired from tanks keeping their distance. It was a different
matter, of course, if the 88 was mounted in a German Tiger tank with six inches of armour plating. George, whilst on loan to the First Army, had the experience of seeing a Tiger tank approaching and not deigning to open fire until he had closed the range. At 700 yards the 75mm solid
shot was bouncing off the front of the Tiger with no effect. By a fluke one shot hit the top of the cupola and ricochetted inside the turret at about 500 yards before the Tiger had troubled to start firing.
On the 8th May we moved into the streets of Tunis. German
resistance had almost, but not quite, ceased. Dizzy Langford from the
tank just in front of us got out to rummage for loot among German equip-
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(44) ment heaped on the pavement. A German opened fire on him. Dizzy swore and emptied a tommy gun at the German who crawled away on hands and knees round the corner.
The Eighth Army had a triumphant procession through Tunis. French girls brought out lots of wine, flowers and cakes. We were amused to hear Howard Marshall on B.B.C. radio under the impression that the First Army had taken Tunis. Moving on, our tank came across a Mark 3 German tank. They had had enough, however, and stuck up a white flag.
The next day we moved back through Tunis, the campaign being over, and camped on the outskirts. The next two days were spent on trips into Tunis to celebrate the liberation of the city. In the company of Alec 'Wilbur' Wright, now our driver, we found ourselves in the Arab quarter sitting in a vast circle of people of all nations. Dried fish and bottles of wine were passed round the circle until no one could eat or drink anything more. Subsequent memories of that day are rather hazy. There is a vague recollection of relieving ourselves against the wheel of a staff car and being remonstrated with by a red tabbed officer. We told him where to go - and he went. Next morning a cup of cold water started the wine fumes welling up again - a monumental
hangover.
Eric Chitty, our former driver, got himself back into favour. He missed the transport back to the camp so 'acquired' a huge Lancia Italian Army truck which was around and drove himself back. The vehicle was put on the unit 'strength'.
About this time our camp was besieged by Americans eager to buy Lugers and other items of German equipment. We had plentiful

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supplies and the going rate for a Luger was 拢5.
Hostilities in North Africa ended officially at 11.45 a.m. on the 13th May 1943. We moved camp again to Bou Arada.
Another day trip to Tunis was rather boring after the previous excitement.. Both French and Arab inhabitants were settling back to normal life but food and drink were scarce.
We moved on the 18th May en route for the Tripoli area passing through Le Kef again, Medenine, Ben Gardene, Zuara,and Sabratha until we reached Homs on the 26th May.
Homs is the former Roman city of Leptis Magna with a magnificent amphitheatre. Now it was little more than an Italian village. We had two-man bivouacs on the beach.. It was just a short walk straight out of the tent for an early morning swim in the Mediterranean. No sign of pollution in those days. We were here for three months. A typical day was an early morning swim, brief roll call after breakfast, a long game of bridge (dummy at the time fetching four lunches from the cook- house at midday), followed by football in the cool of the evening and a late night bathe. By the end of June everyone was very bored. Even 'fishing' by way of hand grenades palled - particularly after one chap did not let go soon enough. These three months of Mediterranean sun and sea have been enough for a life-time. Holidays in the Balearic Islands had no appeal post-war.
There was an amusing diversion. During this static period latrines were set up. These were screened rough seats over trenches dug in the sand. 'Shufti' Rae was responsible for digging the trenches
and general maintenance. He had been a miner and he wore strong glasses to correct poor eyesight - hence his nickname of Shufti (Arabic for

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