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DOVER DAYS

Wilfred Ellis, ex BSM (AIG) Royal Artillery

During the dark days of the war I found myself in daily contact with the sleek grey brooding monsters of the English Channel, the Dover guns. My office was perched precariously on the edge of Shakespeare Cliff and to the best of my knowledge is there today, no doubt still surrounded by the yellow gorse flowers.

I was only 21 years of age, having been in the army since I was 17 in my county territorial regiment and, looking back, I feel that it was the small details of what happened to me during my stay in Dover rather than the big picture that stayed in my mind.

I particularly remember a battery which was installed well before the First World War and the Fort Record Book had an entry in 1914 ‘Wicket fence to the east side of the perimeter repaired’ followed by the laconic statement ‘War declared’. There was no further information until 1918 when there was an entry ‘Hostilities ceased’ followed by ‘Wicket fence repaired again’.

Although it was past its prime the battery was still operational and I felt when I visited it that it was preserved in time and should have been manned by gunners in red jackets and pillbox hats. The enormous guns were capable of delivering shells which were so large that they had to be taken to the guns on trolleys and it was one of these shells which almost proved to be my undoing.

As I was the gunnery instructor attached to the regiment I was informed that an old and disused bridge in the Romney Marshes, some 23 miles away, had been selected as a target to prove that not only could we engage shipping but also places on land.

I was given the coordinates of the bridge and armed with my slide rule and book of logarithms I determined the range and bearing and bore these in glee to one of the guns. I called for a shell to be loaded, then applied the elevation to the gun and the bearing to the polished brass bearing arc. I checked again and then signalled my satisfaction with my work

As the firing mechanism was activated — in other words we pulled the trigger — a short bustling figure in the form of the duty officer hurried to my side and asked me if I had my calculations on paper. Upon my assurance that I had he asked me to sign them, then departed with the words ‘ It’s not that I don’t trust you, but the brass hats are watching hopefully at a safe distance from the bridge and I just wanted to make sure who to blame if there are any mistakes!’

It was too late to worry. There was a bang, a flash, and the enormous shell was winging its lethal way to its target. As a somewhat minor cog in the whole operation I was not informed as to whether I had managed to destroy the bridge but I felt sure that if I had decimated the ranks of the general staff I would have been informed.

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