大象传媒

As a young subaltern in a gunner unit preparing for the invasion of Normandy I was ordered to take a dozen of the regiment鈥檚 tank-like armoured gun carriers, known as 鈥淧riests鈥�, the hundred miles or so from our encampment to a firing range at Alfreston. This was a long journey for a tank at about 20mph and 1mpg.

I duly set off at the head of my column of roaring monsters, in a small 8cwt truck, plus driver. As far as I could see from the map the main hazard was going to be the Brighton & Hove Urban District, through the centre of which we would have to travel. Not knowing the town at all, I plumped for what appeared to be the most straightforward route, following the coastal road as far as possible to turn off the seafront at the Palace Pier in order to head for Lewes. This was where I made a ghastly mistake!

As everyone knows, even to this day I believe, the main thoroughfare leading north from the Palace Pier, veers sharply left almost immediately after leaving the seafront. For some strange reason, neither I nor my driver spotted the signs and I led my ear-shattering convoy straight up the one-way street ahead. The chaos that resulted had to be seen to be believed as I was obliged to order the complete turn-round of all my 鈥渂abies鈥�. Tanks are difficult brutes to turn even when there is plenty of space but, in that confined main road, it proved horrendous. I doubt if central Brighton has ever seen such a traffic snarl-up before or since and I am not proud to have been the instigator. As it was, the police were most helpful and I heard no more about it. But the crews on the 鈥淧riests鈥� thought it a great joke and I was the toast of the day!

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