大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by (Helen Smith) on behalf of (John Rawlings) and has been added to the site with his/her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Chapter Four

B.E.F.

The ship was old and dirty. It was night as we passed down the Solent without incident but as we entered the English Channel my stomach started to roll and twist with the movement of the waves while the rest of my body remained stiff and unrelenting. To my surprise I was able to retain my last meal whilst doubting the wisdom of that second bag of chips demolished at the dock gates before boarding. The night hours passed slowly and as dawn showed through the porthole I could lay there no longer and staggered up the staircases to the open deck of the ship鈥檚 side facing east as the prevailing wind was from the west. Having shared that last bag of chips with the fishes, I stared moodily into the heaving waters and felt worse. I was not alone as to my left and right I was flanked with khaki uniforms topped with grey-green faces retching on empty stomachs.
How long I stayed clinging to the cold rails I do not know but the rising sun drew my glazed eyes upward. Cold as I was, I felt an icy clutch at my heart for there, not a hundred yards away, was a U-boat, its conning tower breasting the waves in concert with our ship. This was a new experience to me and quite frankly I was at a loss as to what I should do. My first thought was to jump overboard before the first torpedo was fired, then I tried to remember where the lifeboats or mustering stations were, or the life jackets or anything, which would keep me afloat. Then, to my relief, Corporal Drew appeared on the scene and I gabbled out the news to him. At first he did not cotton on but following the direction of my outstretched arm his first response was to his Maker in a deep-throated 鈥淢y Gawd鈥�. I suggested that we should report the facts to the Captain as he was responsible for our safety but the approach of a sailor made this unnecessary. 鈥淗i sailor 鈥� the corporal shouted and with appropriate epithets he asked what we should do, pointing to the 鈥渆nemy鈥�. With a quick look out to sea the sailor replied 鈥淚t鈥檚 orl right son, that鈥檚 all they could find for an escort鈥�.
In the excitement we had forgotten our mal-de-mer and were soon to land at Cherbourg where we were driven to a temporary car park and reunited with our vehicles. The sea journey had aggravated my problems at the rear, to the extent that I had to be carried to my vehicle and poured into the cab where I stayed until we reached our next stop. News of my arrival had preceded me and a medical orderly escorted me to the medical room. Although all was very hygienic and smelling of Jeyes Fluid, I managed to escape and rejoin my section now billeted in a loft with copious bundles of straw to provide comfortable mattresses. After a few days of welcome rest I was sufficiently recovered to perform light duties and was soon fully recovered.
The next few weeks were lost to oblivion. We moved steadily east with frequent stops, one of which was a typical French village. The road went straight through with ribbon development on either side. The houses were small and poorly maintained and in an assortment of colours. The natives were not friendly and had no time for their 鈥渃amarades anglais鈥� Our meals were served in what seemed to be the village hall but they were only just edible providing you closed your eyes to what passed into your system. The only buildings of any significance were the church at one end of the village and the railway station at the other. Our billet overlooked the railway along which goods trains of enormous length passed quite frequently. The digging of latrines was regarded as of prime importance and two men were detailed to find a suitable site and to get digging. They could not be regarded as engineers but the site they chose at the top of the railway bank was commendable. The structure, created with a couple of spades and a few length of timber, clearly did not have planning approval but was just stable enough to support two occupants at the same time. What was lacking in building techniques was provided by floral design. It was early spring with a 鈥渉ost of golden daffodils鈥� festooning the banks. These were ruthlessly dug up and replanted en masse immediately in front of the latrine. This greatly enhanced the enjoyment of the enforced breaks for nature鈥檚 needs.
Our billet was an old barn, just waterproof, with an earth floor previously used by cattle. It was wide and long enough to take the whole platoon sharing each side with feet to the middle. This left minimum space in between which was considered an asset in the form of a bed warmer and draught excluder. Our first night was memorable. As soon as the new occupants were asleep, there was a scurrying sound of a thousand small feet racing up and down the barn with no regard for the human content within the army blankets which they were using as a racetrack. This was bearable but when the small feet diverted to the right or left over our faces, all hell was let loose and our sleeping quarters were evacuated in record time in favour of the vehicle cabs in spite of the intrusion of gear levers and the like. A council of war was held the following morning which led to the discovery of a veritable warren of rats鈥� nests all of which were dug out and the occupants destroyed. They returned in small numbers but we had moved on before they became a nuisance. My thoughts returned to Uncle Fred but I must confess his rats must have been twice the size of ours.
Enterprising railway employees had used the spare ground on one side of the station road as an allotment which included a chicken run and roosting shed. A wise historian writing on military matters said, 鈥淭ime taken on reconnaissance is seldom wasted鈥�. Whether Fred, our farmer driver, had read this adage we never found out but it did account for his strange absences mainly at night. With his knowledge of the behaviour of chickens under stress, he had considered the possibility of improving the food content of our meagre diet. His plan depended on strict timing. He had discovered that the chicken shed was left unlocked at night so entry was not a problem. It was at this stage that Fred鈥檚 professional experience came to the fore. He explained the anatomy of a chicken emphasising the depth of the plumage, which made it difficult to know when you had a firm grip of the body proper. If this failed the chances of removing the chicken quietly were zero. It was decided to carry out the 鈥渇owl鈥� deed that night when one of the very long trains was passing through, usually at speed.
Fred was in position in the shadows just before midnight having watched the stationmaster retire to bed in the station house. The next train was due at 12.30 am and could be heard in the distance. The plan was to catch the bird and pass it over the fence to a colleague who would run swiftly to the barn, give it the coup de grace and hide the body in a pre-determined place out of reach of the rats.
All was in place. Fred had decided to let the long train get halfway through the station when the noise would be at its loudest. It was now entering the station and Fred was in the chicken shed choosing his victim. The cacophony was building up nicely and Fred鈥檚 arms were fully extended when the noise of the clattering wagons changed as the screeching of brakes on metal indicated most clearly that this was no express but a stopping train. Fred forgot all about the anatomy of the chicken and grabbed wildly at the first birds which came within his grasp. He failed on the first attempt but on the second he succeeded in making partial contact with the inevitable outbreak of cackling from the whole flock. Struggling to make his hold more secure, he opened the door and passed the live bird over the fence but could not stop the remainder flying to freedom with piercing squawks of delight. Whilst this was happening the train had fully stopped and, apart from the sound of escaping steam, all was quiet until the escape of the hens. Fred鈥檚 companion in crime had disappeared and, trying to smother his catch inside his army blouse, he vaulted over the fence and reached the safety of the barn. The noise of the hens slowly subsided and all was quiet and it seemed that the stationmaster must have been hard of hearing as the lights of the station house remained off.
On return from duty the next day the chicken was recovered and Fred, with a volunteer, shut themselves in a lorry and commenced to divest the bird of its remaining feathers. Then the orderly officer of the day arrived. In spite of efforts to steer him in the opposite direction, he concentrated his gaze on one vehicle asking 鈥淲hy has that vehicle got its tilt secured at the back whilst all the others have theirs open?鈥� Fred had been told of the officer鈥檚 presence but in the flurry of feathers could not understand what was going on. He decided to investigate. Unknowingly, he answered the officer鈥檚 question by opening the tilt from the inside and jumping out in a cloud of feathers which threatened to suffocate the officer. Hurriedly retreating, the officer gasped, 鈥淐arry on Sergeant鈥� and fled. To his credit he kept this ordeal to himself and nothing further transpired.
That evening we enjoyed roast chicken baked in an old petrol tin covered with local mud and garnished with mixed vegetables 鈥渂orrowed鈥� from that morning鈥檚 delivery run to an unknowing unit in the field.

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