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It was going to be a tough assignment. Grenades and bandoleers were issued. Anglican and Roman Catholic padres chatted to as many chaps as possible. The CoE padre was the Rev Radice and his RC counterpart was the Rev Father John Hayes. In some cases a letter would be given to the padre: 鈥淛ust in case鈥�. You know鈥�; a short prayer service with a group - deeply religious, impressive without church or chapel, presbytery or vicarage.

Card schools, telling yarns, banter, laughing at jokes you had heard many times before. The jar of rum, usually issued to keep you warm during the bitter cold nights, was now unrationed. Some took advantage of the concession. Some preferred the usual swig. Mealtime. We enjoyed our tin of steak and kidney pudding, tea in our tin cup and two peaches doled out from a 7lb tin packed in California. Only the Lord knew when we would have our next hot meal. Time to move off to the start line.

Dusk gave way to nightfall as we came in sight of Tanngouche. Outlined against the night sky it towered above us: a black menacing, domineering, natural monstrosity now, according to Army Intelligence, a heavily fortified enemy stronghold. Zero Hour - midnight. The Royal Artillery released their light and heavy guns at the designated targets. As the shells cascaded on their targets and the barrage crept up the mountainous objective, Captain Blake Duddington lead D Company forward.

Unlike Mahdi, the previous hill position we had captured, Tanngouhce had a steeper gradient and it was more rock than soil. Within a short time, one of our advance platoons overran a forward German position. Its occupants had kept under cover while the shells from our artillery were dropping around them. The prisoners were quickly hustled back to our lines for interrogation.

Suddenly flares from the enemy illuminated the whole mountainside. Our lads could now be seen as shadowy figures going forward. Coinciding with the light from the flares the Germans opened fire with a fusillade of light and heavy machine gun and mortar fire. As usual the machine gun fire contained tracer bullets. It soon became evident that there were more machine guns firing at us than we had ever encountered before. As the night wore on the concentration of Boche firepower intensified. Despite the heavy barrage from our divisional artillery, the Germans had successfully combined the natural obstacles of Tanngouche with their military ingenuity and erected a formidable defensive barrier.

As one of the four stretcher-bearers, I was called upon to evacuate many wounded comrades. On this occasion we did not have to carry the wounded very far. The Regimental Aid Post at the foot of the mountain was a little forward of the battle start line. The ferocity of enemy fire did not lessen. The enemy artillery that had been silent was now targeting our flanks. Obviously during the battle they had become aware of the proximity of the fighting. Some of their shells may have hit their troops. Dawn was breaking. The battle was still raging. If Mahdi was our baptism of fire, Tanngouche was hell on earth.
We were nailed down. Our only cover was in the shell holes left by our gunners or behind rocky crags. Some of our lads had been killed, many wounded. It was a frightening time. I admit I was scared. Would we ever be able to retrieve the situation? You kept telling yourself, 鈥淒on鈥檛 panic鈥�. Thankfully what remained of D Company was within earshot of each other. More precisely, because of the roar of shellfire and constant rat-a-tat of Spandau machine-guns, shouting distance of each other. During this terrified situation I said many a silent prayer and even invoked the aid of my Dad who had died many years ago. He had always looked after me. I believed he was in heaven. Would he? Could he obtain assistance for me now?

Unknown to me during this time, Captain Duddington had been in radio communication with the CO, Colonel Neville Grazebrook. Duddington explained our plight and gave an appraisal of our prospects. Grazebrook gave the order for us to withdraw before final daybreak. Strangely, so it seemed, low cloud descended over Tanngouche as what remained of our company returned to our lines. That cloud was the most effective smoke screen I ever experienced.

In the security of a hollow we relaxed in a fashion. It was a few days before Good Friday. Was it blasphemous of me to think last night had been our scourging? With forty of our company dead and a larger number wounded, we were now joined with B Company who had also been badly mauled. Was this an indication we were going into action again before reinforcements arrived? One of our draft, a lad named Ward, had been taken prisoner. The London Irish had been repulsed with heavy losses at Hideous. On Longstop the West Kents were holding their own. Of the three sides of the triangle, we were now in a delicate position. The Germans were in front of us on Tanngouche and behind us on Hideous. Sandwiched between them, a depleted Irish Brigade. Headquarters made the decision: prepare for another attack on Tanngouche.

While our future was being planned, word came through that one of our lads, Callister, was lying wounded on Tanngouche. Ted Lewis and I decided to go and bring him in. The lad who gave us the message provided a rough idea where Callister was. With our stretcher and medical bag, with its painted Red Cross visible, and on the arm of our battledress a white brassard with the letters SB in red, Ted and I set back up the rocky slope.

We found 鈥淐allie鈥�. Though in pain and feeling the cold he was pleased to see us. I offered him a cigarette from the tin I carried in my medical bag. We applied field dressings to the wound in his stomach. While doing so we heard footsteps running towards us. Now two German soldiers were standing over us. One was taller than the other. The smaller guy carried a 鈥渟chmeisser鈥�. The tall fellow had a rifle. They spoke no English. 鈥淲e no spraken Deutsche.鈥� In a case like this action speaks louder than words. The little squirt鈥檚 menacing looks and the way he gestured with his weapon was understandable in any language. He wanted to take all three of us prisoners.

I pointed to the Red Cross on our bags and, although I never learnt French at St. Sylvester鈥檚鈥� back in Liverpool, at the same time said, 鈥淐roix Rouge鈥�. His reply in the first German I ever understood was, 鈥淣ein! Nein!鈥�. More aggressively, he moved his sub-machine gun for us to go to the German line. I beckoned to both of them that we were unarmed. The tall fellow had been an observer in all this. To Ted, I said, 鈥淭ake your time with that dressing鈥�.

Once again I plucked the tin of cigarettes from the bag. I offered the Germans one. The tall fellow took a 鈥楥apstan鈥�. His comrade declined with a harsh, 鈥淣ein鈥�. From my tunic pocket I pulled out some photographs of my mother, sisters Josie and Mary, and Mary鈥檚 young daughter, Monica. I showed them to the big fellow. Between puffs of cigarette, he produced photographs of his family. I gave him the 鈥榯humbs up鈥� sign and a smile. Pointing to Josie and Monica鈥檚 photo he asked if they were my wife and daughter. Raising my hands he saw I did not wear a ring. 鈥淣ein,鈥� I said and he saw the joke.

By now his 鈥榦ppo鈥� was getting impatient. His face displayed an attitude of hate and arrogance. My mind told me this guy was a product of the Nazi Youth Movement 鈥� an indoctrinated Nazi. Ted Lewis whispered, 鈥淐an鈥檛 delay any longer.鈥� Poor Callister looked at us as if to say, 鈥淔or God鈥檚 sake get me back.鈥�

It was my last effort. I produced the cellophane wallet, which enclosed the recognised permit that we 鈥榟ad the protection of the Geneva Convention鈥�. The reply was swift and curt, 鈥淔ini Geneva Convention鈥�. In anger he beckoned to both of us to put 鈥楥alli鈥� on the stretcher and take him up the mountain. All this was taking place in No Man鈥檚 Land, about fifty yards from our forward outpost and a hundred yards from the enemy鈥檚 lines.

A voice within me whispered, 鈥淒on鈥檛 panic Ned鈥�. Only my family and personal friends called me Ned. The last time it was spoken freely was on the Duchess of Richmond 鈥� the troopship that had brought us from Oran to Algiers 鈥� with John McInerny and Johnnie 鈥榃inks,鈥� when we had the singsong in the crew鈥檚 quarters. Inspiration, call it what you will, made me shout in the loudest voice possible, 鈥淭hey鈥檙e gonna take us prisoner鈥�. Would someone in 鈥楧鈥� Company get the message?

A single rifle shot rang out! The little Nazi howled in agony. He had been hit in the upper part of his left arm. While he held on to his sub-machine gun I performed the most elaborate field dressing bandaging of his wound. I tied the tapes so that his arm was completely immobilised. He made a gesture for a cigarette. I gave him one and handed a few extras to the 鈥榥ice鈥� fellow. He took the schmeisser from his comrade and assisted him back to his unit. Ted and I carried Callister safely back to our Regimental Aid Post and received congratulations form our MO, Captain Wilson. I never learnt who fired that shot. Whoever it was rescued me from being a POW. My Dad鈥檚 twin brother died in a POW camp in WW1, a few days before the Armistice.

The first assault on Tanngouche cost our Company forty killed or wounded. We did not know the number of enemy casualties. We did capture some rifles and machine guns and take 16 prisoners. It ended with a strategic withdrawal and an assurance, 鈥淚f you fight and get away, you live to fight another day鈥�. And we would.

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