大象传媒

Chapter 3of3

By good luck all was not lost. The water-table in the harbour area was nothing better than sea water but further inland, where the ground was higher, a deep well with associated pumping equipment was discovered which gave promise of a good supply. The pumps were started using a mobile generator but delivery was nil until it was found the intake was blocked by a dead dog; once removed, everything was fine and, after treatment with magic potions and powders, the water was pronounced adequate. What the eye does not see!..... but nobody seemed any the worse. This, together with filled water bottles and 2 gallons per man, delivered in jerrycans, sufficed, although washing and shaving were luxuries and, with no change of kit, "scruff order" became the thing.

It is ironic to think of the Braithwaite water tanks and all the attendant aggravation; back-tracking the railway into Algeria...finding the waggons...the station-arab...the engine-arab...riding the footplate...the trial-build.....loading the LCTs...unloading them...erecting the tanks...making the water main...the ship aground. All.this endeavour and the moment of fulfillment, then.....BANG.....all gone in a moment!

Clearly, the Luftwaffe was not too pleased at being so rudely disturbed and, surely enough, responded vigorously. Sicily is no more than 65 miles distant and before long we were well acquainted with Focke Wolfe fighter/bombers. The drill was, they would come in low, drop their bombs, do a circuit and then empty their machine guns before scooting off home. The raids occurred at fairly regular intervals of about 2 hours during daylight; in fact one became used to their programme and it was possible to predict with fair accuracy "They'll have bombed-up, had their coffee and a fag and should be back in about 10 minutes"

Sgt MacVean and I found a number of Italian Breda machine guns and a large quantity of tracer ammunition whereupon we each laid claim to our private bomb craters, just by our HQ, in which we each set up a gun, so we had our own personal means of retaliation! We had quite a bit of practise squirting tracer all over the sky from the safety of our bomb holes and improved noticeably with practise but there was no evidence of having hit anything. Never mind, it was great entertainment.

I happened to be in the right place to see a spectacular happening. An outer breakwater had been under construction which involved the use of large blocks of concrete, each weighing perhaps 20 tons. These came from a casting yard,(via the light railway by our HQ) to a large travelling crane situated on the breakwater for handling them into place. It was a considerable structure with an height of about 60ft to an horizontal jib along which travelled the lifting hook. I just happened to be around when a bomb made a direct hit on one of the crane-legs.....the leg disappeared. The crane almost seemed surprised at this sudden interference with its well-being and, for a moment, nothing happened,then, very slowly it began to lean over towards the water gathering speed as it went until it came thundering down into the outer harbour with a tremendous crash of writhing steelwork. The sea fountained in a great up-surge and cascaded back to the foaming waters from which a wreckage of twisted steel projected at strange angles..... an unforgettable sight.

Heavy Ack Ack arrived on D+2 and when an approaching raid was detected a single shell-burst was put up as an air-raid warning but, usually, the planes could be heard in sufficient time to discover and occupy a comfortable nook. In this respect Miss Carriage proved her worth, for, in the absence of said nook, she was a not unsatisfactory alternative. There was adequate time to switch off, slip down from the driving seat and slide between the tracks and suspension and under the engine. There, surrounded by metal and machinery was much better than being marooned in the open. On one such occasion, it is recalled, a "banger" was considerably adjacent and, whilst the dust was settling and wits were being gathered, I found my shirt-front warm and wet which caused a degree of personal alarm as I thought it was coming out of me... until, with much relief, it was realised something had punctured Miss Carriage's waterworks directly above. Like any wounded soldier she was nursed along to the FAP (First Aid Post) for attention to staunch the flow; expert medical skills soon had her injuries put to rights by the generous application of sticking plaster and tight bandages. This done, she reported fit for duty and soldiered on.

A drone of air activity continued during the night hours as high-flying bombers took over from their daytime hit-and-run counterparts. Our heavy Ack Ack enjoyed themselves banging away, although little damage appeared to be done by either side the main danger being the shower of fragments from our own bursting Ack Ack shells and it was then that our accomodation within the railway platform, where we could sleep with an easy mind, came into its own.

By D+2 the bulldozer drivers had performed in their usual invaluable fashion which, together with much pick and shovel work and demolition of unsafe buildings, had cleared the main exits from the port and filled-in numerous bomb craters consequently, if Miss Carriage could manage the hill,I was tempted to take the perimeter road away from the port for a change of scene. This gave me a view of the port area from the high ground behind during one of the air attacks. From this safe vantage point, it must be confessed, it looked quite dangerous; and yet, for all the banging which went on, it was largely ineffective, which is quite amazing. One reason is that troops were dispersed inland and only those with essential duties were allowed to stay in the port area. There was only one killed on the island. The Military Police had established themselves in the remains of a building close by the unloading berth for the supply ships, which attracted the Focke Wolfes; a bomb was dropped which landed in the doorway of the MP's building and this unfortunate single Military Policeman was killed. To many, the MP is remembered as the man intent on preventing the British Soldier doing what comes naturally, but the Divisional Military Police performed a gallant role frequently established at key points, such as cross roads, subject to heavy "stonking", (concentrations of enemy artillery fire at irregular intervals) or other attack, requiring fortitude to remain steadfast on duty, come what may, whilst others nervously hurry by to safety.

And so the days passed; latterly, it was no more than waiting for relief by the US Army and avoiding the air attacks. Sergeant MacVean and I did not manage to get as far as the airfield. The first allied plane to land was piloted by Sgt H E Love of London who reported he had difficulty in finding sufficient space between the bomb craters to make a landing. Some 90 aircraft in various stages of destruction littered the area. He saw hangers, stores and accomodation hewn from the solid rock. These man-made galleries were supplemented around the island by natural caves and passages which provided excellent shelter from Allied bombing and accounted for the lack of casualties among the civilians and enemy personnel. Never once was there any sign of enemy dead or wounded.

The US Army arrived on 18th June and, after a fond farewell to Miss Carriage, Sgt MacVean and I and the happy-band-of-men gratefully boarded an LST and sailed for Sousse and home. We were fortunate that the skies remained clear although others were not so lucky and suffered the attentions of the Luftwaffe. A near-miss disabled one of the vessels wounding several of 2 Field Regiment RA - no doubt there were other unrecorded incidents.

The part played by Allied air power in the successful landing was hailed by the Press at home as a new technique of war and a victory secured without the need for land forces. The fact is that had the island been defended by disciplined and well trained troops what was an easy operation would have been a perilous undertaking. To achieve any victory, except, perhaps, in terms of nuclear warfare, the infantry must first stand with their boots on the ground; without the courage and skill of the long-suffering infantryman we would get nowhere. Ideas that what happened at Pantelleria could pave the way unopposed into Europe were nothing more than the usual "newspaper talk".

A tragedy attended the approach to Sousse harbour. The ship with 238 Field Company RE. aboard hit a sea-mine killing or drowning 17 and wounding several others. A cruel stroke of fate so close to home. The "postie" distinguished himself beyond the call of duty by braving the incoming waters to rescue his mail bags from the hold to secure what is most precious to the soldier - his mail. However, all told, casualties were mercifully light; I cannot speak for the Navy or RAF, although there were the six planes lost in the approach. Any casualty is a sadness but, considering the scale of the operation and the defences of the island, it is a blessing that losses were not very much higher. Had Pantelleria been defended by seasoned, disciplined troops it could have been very, very nasty.

Eventually, we formed up on the quay at Sousse and Sgt MacVean hitched a lift for us in some vehicles which dropped us within a mile cross-country from the olive grove where the remainder of the Company were encamped. By this time our khaki drill, was. torn and begrimed with a combination of sweat, dust and oil from Miss Carriage and the happy-band-of-men, looking more like irregulars than Soldiers of the King, set off for the homeward march in high spirits and self-regard until our olive grove drew into sight. Our approach across the open country had not gone unobserved and the remainder of the unit began to congregate, so we came to the "slope" and "march to attention", (bags of swank lads). As we arrived the **OC. emerged from the office tent to see what all the fuss was about so we were able to pay the "eyes left" compliment as we marched past.

Then it was "party halt" etc....

then......"PARTAAyyyDEEeeesMISS"......

......and that was that.

(They were a grand lot of chaps)

**Officer Commanding
Major S.A.Duncan MBE. RE.

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