大象传媒

Somewhere about D+45, Dicky thought that a few days ashore would be good for a morale boost, so we were put under canvas in an army camp, somewhere inland from Luc-sur-Maire. Digging latrines by day, and being shelled with anti-personal missiles by night didn't seem to be a great idea, being boat bums had more appeal. And we did miss our hammocks, Ronnie Hull flatly refused to put his pallise on the duck boards, instead, he scrounged a dozen compo boxes, lined them up, and made his bed on top. Good move! for during the nightly shelling a sliver of A.P.shrapnel went straight through his boxes, end to end, passing under his prone body, without them, it would have been messy. Leaving the pickaxes and shovels behind was great, and getting back to the Gooseberry was like going home. The old coaster that was our domain must have had a name, but I cannot recall it, the only one that comes to mind is
"The Dragon" the first to start the lineup.
At about D+70 the powers that be, decided it was time for us to have another break. This time on our depot ship, which normally housed reserves, spare crews, bulky stores. On the day of transfer there was a heavy sea running, and the only way to get aboard was up the scramble nets. Apart from our flotilla, who were all lashed together, there was several M.L's. an M.T.B. and a couple of coastguard vessels, all waiting to discharge crews. The whole side of the ship was draped with cargo nets, so there was no jostling for space, the major problem was timing the next big wave, and being close enough to leap the gap to safety. We were clambering across our craft, which were pitching and rolling with each wave, straining at their painters, and trying to time our arrival at the shipside with the third wave, that was the biggie. This also applied to the M.L. that was next to us, and a sailor, misreading the wave, jumped too soon. The boat followed him up, smashed into his legs, chopping one off, the other badly smashed and dangling. He was desparately hanging on to the net, and several deckhands were over the side in double quick time and grabbed hold of him before the boat came up again. While this was going on, Ronnie Hull was so intent on the action, that he forgot the basic rule, watch your step, and stepped onto a deck that wasn't there. He was wearing seaboots, that dragged him down, and a duffle coat that kept him afloat, and as the current swept him between the heaving craft, there was a danger that he would be crushed between them. Luckily I was downstream, and by lying flat on the afterdeck was able to reach the hood of his coat, but that was all I could do, hold him, there was no way that I could have lifted him. Fortunately there was plenty of help at hand, and after emptying his boots, we embarked with no further drama. We never heard how the sailor fared.
Most of our waking hours, for the next three days, were spent playing rummy, as we had been paid with French franks, that's what we played with. Well! it not like real cash, so we played at stupid odds, and I won the lot! It was only much later, at the exchange bureau, on Victoria station, that I realised how much I'd won.
Thanks lads !

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