大象传媒

Chapter Five: The Crusader Battles

Having taking leave of my classmates who had become my very good friends I returned to the Squadron and found that they were geared up for another 鈥榩ush鈥�. The intention was to relieve the Tobruk garrison which was still cut off, except from the sea. Thousands of allied troops were still confined there, it was an important port for either side to possess for the supplying of their armies.
Prime Minister Churchill was urging General Auchinleck to attack, as he had done to General Wavell, but new men and arrivals were still coming into the line; once they were settled in it was certain that we would again be engaged in the thick of battle, which at the latest we thought would be November because the days were already getting shorter, becoming dark in the early evening when the whole of the desert became black and still.
I became wireless operator on a sergeant鈥檚 tank, in addition I would be the gun-loader. I didn鈥檛 know the other two members of the crew but that was soon remedied. We practised releasing the canvas covers and spent some time on the drill for 鈥榖aling out鈥�: that was an essential exercise because the high-octane petrol was so very easily ignited, and there was little time to jump clear once a tank had received a hit.
We went out on probing patrols trying to locate the enemy positions, their type of arms and their numbers if possible. Coming back eastwards to leaguer after one of those expeditions it was always a delight to look back at those wonderful desert sunsets, appearing so calm and peaceful with so many differing shades of colour almost causing one to ask 鈥渨hat war?鈥�
When in leaguer in the evening we made ourselves comfortable by rigging up the tarpaulin cover to the tank side, ran the inspection lamp through and laid out our bedding there. The cooks were up with us while we were not in action and they served us us from a central position.
It was usually served and eaten just before the blackness of the night set in. The rations were much about the same, just as boring, with nothing to stimulate the appetite whatever. Joe and his team did try and make them more interesting. We found our own way however of making up the deficiency with the aid of a primus stove in our portable shelter. We had hoarded and cadged margarine and jam over a period and there was always plenty of hard tack biscuits. Anyone going on leave or out of the desert for any reason was expected to bring some little extra which could be used to make those meals.
It was fortunate too for us that in our troop was a South African and after he had visited his friends in the South African brigade who were stationed nearby, brought back with him a load of their issue biscuits, bigger and much superior to our own; they were about six inches square and quite half-an-inch thick, these when crumbled could be transformed into a passable porridge or when fried in margarine and topped with jam they were delicious. We did enjoy those meals, afterwards we usually had a sing-song. That was our evening鈥檚 entertainment. 鈥楲ights Out鈥� would be very early because our day would begin at first light which was about three or four o鈥檆lock.
Our brewing up was a very important function, one of the good things of our lives. While under the shelter we used the Primus, outside it was made over a petrol and sand stove. It was simple enough and quite efficient: one of the four-gallon petrol tins was cut in half, the top part was was perforated and filled with sand, the bottom in which we boiled the tea was complete with wire handle and was when filled with water placed over the tin of sand which had been soaked in petrol and lit. As the water boiled, tea, sugar and Carnation milk were all thrown in, this produced a rich golden liquid, after each dipping in our mugs the partaking of it was a pleasure to treasure. This brewing-up was a ritual, an art, when or wherever anyone 鈥榖rewed鈥� the word would go around and along they would come bringing their old battered mugs and all would receive a share, no-one was ever turned away. Often in the middle of those tea-making activities the order would come through: 鈥渕ount - move off鈥�, or on occasions shells began to fall, in either case there would be a mad scramble for everyone to get on board, get the kit stowed away and hope that there would still be enough of the brew remaining after spillage to fill four mugs.
As the desert winter drew ever nearer we were anxiously awaiting the order to begin the attack. There was the possibility of course that the Afrika Korps would attack first. We knew that our people at home were counting upon us to produce a victory to lift their spirits as they suffered the might of the Luftwaffe in their nightly bombing raids.
The commandos had made some gallant raids in Europe, Greece and the Desert. A large part of our army was tied up at home so that it was felt among the Eighth Army that we owed our people something to alleviate their distress and cheer them up.
For a reason of which I am not aware our troop sergeant left us. Whether he was ill or on a course was not clear but whatever the reason it had the effect of moving the troop NCOs up a rank in seniority, the corporal taking over the missing sergeant鈥檚 tank and I to command his.
It took a long time for it to register with me when I was informed of it because it was not usual for a junior NCO, a mere lance-corporal, and in in my case of only a few month鈥檚 standing, to be called on to become a tank commander. It was however no great problem because we were mainly static, or at most only engaged on Schemes.
I thought as I settled down to my new responsibility that I would make the best of the appointment while it lasted as I was certain that the sergeant would soon be returned to us or another would replace him; in the meantime I had the opportunity to get to know my new crew and to familiarise myself with the duties of a tank commander.
Two of the crew had seen little or no action but the driver, 鈥楪inger鈥� Downing, was battle-hardened; he was therefore most helpful to me and I welcomed his advice as I took on this new challenge. The tanks with which we were then equipped, the 鈥楥hristie Cruiser鈥�, had a more spacious interior, there was never enough room but it was an advantage if the crew were small of stature which at least gave us some room in which to stretch our legs.
If we were confined to the vehicle whether stationary or on the move for any length of time our bodies could become cramped, and our limbs stiff. The explosion inside the tank when the gun was fired caused the ears to pound and the head to throb, the smell of cordite was sickly. As the shell cases were ejected at our feet they were speedily thrown out which helped to rid us of some of the smell and also to lessen the heat which they caused in addition to the intense heat of the sun beating down on the steel shell of the vehicle itself. The turret gun had a long recoil action of which the crew had to continually be aware of because in that confined space when it shot back quickly it could hit pretty hard.
The driver suffered from the crack of the turret gun which was immediately above his head and also from the chatter of the machine gun by his side.
Whatever were the particular duties of a crew member everyone shared in the general work whether it was refuelling, ammo loading , gun cleaning, vehicle maintenance or any other requirement necessary to keep the tank in a ready fighting condition at all times. The work was tiring but we were proud to be 鈥榯ankies鈥� and wouldn鈥檛 change our lot even if it were possible, certainly not with that of the infantryman for example. Our life in comparison was quite luxurious.
Although we were limited for space, with a little ingenuity we could always find room for any extras such as spare bedding or extra rations, washing kit and so forth. It was much easier for us than it was for the man who had to move into battle carrying all of his requirements while ours were carried for us.
I didn鈥檛 envy those in the trenches at all, there was an occasion which comes to mind: after I had taken charge of a tank, of an incident when passing through some lines of trenches where the infantry boys had dug themselves in on our way to meet a panzer force that had broken through, and thinking how exposed they were, and how fortunate we were to have armour plating to protect us, when one of the lads stood up in his trench and shouted to me 鈥渇*** your luck, mate鈥�. I was so surprised that all I could think of to shout back in reply was 鈥淎nd yours!鈥�. We always thought of them as the 鈥榩oor bloody infantry鈥� but in that particular case and on that occasion it seemed at least one of them didn鈥檛 envy us our job.
I attended my first squadron leader鈥檚 conference and found that what we had expected to happen was confirmed, our offensive was about to begin, in fact we were to attack the following morning at first light. As the sergeant had not returned I had to take my crew into battle, which I had only vaguely anticipated, however I was committed. Although I was not too concerned at doing so I did very much hope that I could stand the test.
I had a good well-maintained vehicle and an excellent crew so everything else was up to me, my only fear was that I musn鈥檛 let anyone down. All men before going into battle and realising the nearness of danger to themselves and their comrades feel their stomach turn over, but all are determined not to show their emotions. We talked of it as being afraid to show that we were afraid.
All commanders had been briefed on the plans and the objectives of the campaign which was called Crusader; the intention was to relieve Tobruk, I believe the morning of the march must have been 16th November 1941. We reached the Egyptian border and passed through a gap in the wire which had been made for us by the engineers and moved on into Libya.
It rained heavily for a time but there was no sighting of the enemy, it seemed that we had caught them by surprise. We leaguered that night just a few miles south of Sidi Rezegh. The drill in leaguer was the same then as at all times when the soft vehicles were up with us, the tanks forming an outer protective screen with them in the centre; everything was normal, and after refuelling we fed at the cook鈥檚 lorry.
It was after returning and carrying out maintenance that the first of our troubles began; we found that the turret would not move so that we had to call in the fitters who began work on the problem immediately. They were forced to work by the light of the inspection lamp and the make-do blackout was far from satisfactory. The light emitted was obviously seen for miles across the open desert.
It was found that we had an oil leak and it was repaired by about midnight. The remainder of the squadron with the exception of the sentries had been bedded down for hours and with first light, around 3.00-4.00 hours, managed an hour or two of sleep ourselves.
We were awakened by the guards just as the morning sky began to show its early light and then suddenly, through the stillness, shaking us out of our drowsy state came the whizz and whistle of shellfire, it came from our left and at close range.
The German gunners had ranged in on the exposed light during the night and then all they needed to do was to wait until daybreak when we became visible as a target. We were sitting in their sights and they also had the benefit of surprise.
They were in a position to do a great deal of damage, as it was I heard of only a few others than ourselves who were hit. We received an armour-piercing shell on the left-hand side which damaged two of the bogey wheels, the result being that we could not steer to the left, capable only of making a right turn and this we did making a dash to get out of range.
The whole of the squadron had scattered too, in retrospect we were extremely lucky especially then with loss of manoeuvrability to get away. After the squadron had scattered I found myself moving along with tanks of 鈥楢鈥� Squadron and they were able to point out to where my troops were reforming; when reassembled our orders were to pursue and destroy some lorried infantry.
We set off line-abreast at great speed, charging after them and firing on the move; too late it was found that we had been lured into a trap, because we ran into some dug-in artillery, and I saw several tanks hit within minutes. Then I heard and felt a thud, followed by a shout from Ginger, the driver, and the tank came to a halt.
I jumped off and went round to him, he was struggling to get out of his hatch, when helping him I saw that his leg below the knee seemed only to be hanging on by skin alone. There was a gaping hole where an armour-piercing shell had passed through his compartment taking his leg on the way before it made its exit somewhere inside the chamber, yet missed each of us in there.
Meanwhile, adjacent to us was another halted tank who were unloading casualties, the officer commanding it told me that as his tank was not a runner he would take over mine and his driver would join us. Between us we lifted Ginger onto the other tank along with the other two wounded. They were made as comfortable as was possible until the MO could get to them.
It must have been most uncomfortable for those wounded whom we had laid on the rear of the tank over the engine grills because although the November sun was not terribly fierce that part of the vehicle was hot to touch, apart from the fact that they were in pain. Our driver expressed his anxiety and wanted to be got away quickly to be treated, he said that he had a fear of gangrene setting in; his leg had collected a covering of sand from when we had lifted him. How long they laid there before receiving treatment I don鈥檛 know because we were called on to move and I never heard of them again.
The officer who took over from me brought his own driver (Brown) with him and I reverted to my own duty as wireless operator/gun loader on my tank. My spell as a commander was short-lived, I think just about a month altogether.
We fought our way to the edge of El Adam airfield which for a short period had been occupied by other squadrons of our regiment. Each time we moved forward we were driven back by the superior firepower of the enemy. To make conditions more difficult was the fact that our driver was finding the commander鈥檚 orders almost impossible to act upon, to move to the left for instance he was forced to make a right-hand circle.
We were left in observation below the airfield for some time and then suddenly charged away to become involved in several short skirmishes, being called on to lend assistance in one place then onto another, dodging here and there as ordered. It was all quite hectic for a while, we inside the steel casing were only partly aware of what was happening around us outside. I found that continually loading the gun and at speed was very hot and tiring.
It was late afternoon when we were ordered to take up a position in a wadi where we were to form a defensive line against a large panzer force which was reported to be heading through. There would have been about twenty of our squadron lined up there, and possibly later one or two more from our other squadrons joined us.
Due to our lack of full mobility we were stationed on the left of the line making it easier for us to pull out of our lines if it became necessary; we waited and waited, knowing that it would soon be dusk and the sudden darkness of night.
While we waited we wondered had they by-passed us and cut us off, if that were so there would be no way of escaping after nightfall. Or another thought was had brigade HQ made a mistake, a wrong map reference for instance?
Eventually they came into view in the distance, huge dark shapes silhouetted against the dying sun and growing larger as they lurched nearer. They were mostly German Mk IVs which carried a 75mm turret gun, more powerful than our own tiny 2-pounder; their range of penetration was also that much greater.
Our leader鈥檚 order was to hold them off at all costs, and while they still approached our line, his further and final instruction was that we were to hold our fire until he gave the order, reserve our ammunition as that was all we had and there was no chance of being replenished. His last words before he did give the fire order were that we must all do our best right up to the last moment. Not altogether words of comfort.
I popped my head out quickly and observed for myself how the vicious black monsters still lumbered on, drawing ever nearer and showing menacingly against the slowly dying, multi-coloured evening sky and still we waited.
They could pierce our armour at over a mile whereas our range would be about half that. It seems now that it was reminiscent of those old sea battles which our navy fought against the French and Spanish, where they were usually outsized, outgunned and outnumbered. Of a quick estimate at the time I thought that there were between thirty and forty of them bearing down on us.
We didn鈥檛 need to be reminded of our duty: it had been drummed into us often enough. Firstly that even if the tank was knocked out but there was still one crew member alive then the gun must be kept firing; it was during those times of waiting when those stomach butterflies began to flutter. Once the action had begun everyone was too busy, the time for thinking would have passed and all thought and effort went into the job in hand.
The Germans finally halted at a distance of only about seven hundred yards and around them infantry set up their machine guns. The odds overall did not appear to favour us. The order was then given 鈥渇ire鈥� and almost of an instant as if the enemy was waiting for us to begin firing they retaliated, and the noise of the bombardment was terrific. To say that all hell was let loose would be as good as any fitting description that I can think of.
We fired at a frenzied rate, I was loading shells as fast as Jock could fire them; from time to time I was forced to throw out the hot ejected shellcases which lay around our feet and when doing so found the noise deafening. The din from the standing shoot of two lines of opposed guns of over fifty tanks in that small confined area was so great.
Later, I saw that many of our tanks were alight, it had all happened so quickly. It is another of those scenes which has been imprinted in my memory. We ourselves were making an impact on the battle because twice our commander had shouted out when we had scored a hit and there was some satisfaction that we had cleared up some of the infantry with our Besa (machine gun).
How long the battle raged I have no idea, time then did not exist, so much was happening. It was very hot and tiring but there could be no letting up or that would have spelt the end for us. Suddenly there was a blinding flash and at the same time a tremendous thunderous clump - we had been hit.
I remember bright flashing lights and the blackness; it鈥檚 not possible to say how long I may have been concussed but I would guess for only a matter of minutes. When I did gather my senses I found that there was no movement from my fellow crew. I baled out as we had been trained, anticipating that they had already jumped clear, but that was not so - they were still on board. Both the officer and gunner were slumped in the bottom of the chamber.
It was fortunate that our squadron leader had the foresight to order us to wear our webbing shoulder straps which acted as a harness and made it possible for me to pull them out and onto the rear of the tank. As I was doing so, machine guns opened up and forced me to keep my head down and to shield behind the turret.
I had not seen nor heard anything from the driver so I went cautiously round to the front, I saw him frantically waving and shouting, indicating that it was not possible for him to open his hatch. I tried it and found that it was so jammed that it needed something to use as a lever; until I could find a tool he was trapped because there was no way out through the main chamber as the gun which was then pointing to the ground had blocked the opening. The whole of the superstructure was severely buckled, we had obviously received a hit from a high explosive shell.
While Brownie was still working away at his hatch lever I went to the rear to find a suitable tool from the toolbox but the two injured men were laid over it and I was reluctant to move them, for one or both of them were losing blood, and yet I needed some sort of tool urgently. I ran back round to the front where Brownie had made no progress and in desperation picked the nearest thing at hand and in doing so made one of the most stupid decisions, of the many that I have made, and that was that what I had picked up was a mis-fired shell which laid among the empty shell cases I had earlier thrown out.
With it I used the tip to prise under the small opening of the hatch and it worked, it was tight, but enough with him pushing and myself pulling for him to come clear, suffering as far as I was then aware only cuts and bruises.
The battle was still being fought with the one or two of our remaining vehicles giving a good account of themselves. While Brownie was trapped I鈥檇 had my back to the enemy and I feared that any moment they would pay attention to us and I would receive a spray of machine gun bullets in my back.
It was miraculous that the shell which had served as the desired tool had not exploded on handling but fate must have been on our side; if it had been otherwise the tank, Brownie and myself would have all been blown away. I didn鈥檛 question Brownie about any possible injuries which he might have sustained, there wasn鈥檛 time. Our immediate thought was to get out of the firing line as quickly as possible which was a risk in itself because it meant running across the open space of No Man鈥檚 Land where the ambulance and fitters were and to try to get some help for our wounded.
As we sheltered behind our tank as an afterthought I asked Brownie if he thought that it would still run, he didn鈥檛 hesitate, stopping just long enough for him to wedge his hatch open he squeezed back in and it started first time.
With a shout from him to jump on I was aboard and able to direct him. He was finding it hard to pull the tank around in as small a circle as possible without showing too much broadside; once round we made speed. Then we were hit again and the blast blew one of our injured men off, I then made another stupid mistake - I jumped off after him. Whatever I thought I might achieve by doing so, I don鈥檛 know and because of my impulsive action there were then two of us out there with no protection whatsoever, and with night almost upon us with tanks on the move the thought of what could happen thankfully didn鈥檛 cross my mind.
Our tank had sailed on oblivious to the fact that it would be two crew members short when it arrived at our lines; that tank of mine had then been hit four times.
After jumping off I crawled to the man on the ground and found him to be the officer and managed to pull him into a shallow depression in the sand which although not giving a great deal of protection at least we were not too visible. With his field glasses I surveyed the battlefield where there were many burnt and knocked-out tanks of both sides.
The officer was still alive but made no move nor uttered any sound; I decided that there was little that I could do until nightfall and even if I was able to help him along there was every chance that we would lose direction in the blackness, also it would be then when the German engineers would occupy the area to recover damaged vehicles, both ours and their own.
I dare not stand up and try and signal any of our troops, in any case we were to their rear and they were still fully engaged swapping shell for shell. It was more likely to draw fire from the enemy so there was little I could do then but wait, hope and lay low until some form of escape or relief presented itself.
However we had not long to wait before I heard the sound of tank tracks behind us, even with the glasses I was not sure whether it was friend or foe but as he came in firing on the move I realised it was ours. I tried to draw his attention by standing up and waving but he still came on absorbed in the targets to his front, he drew level with us and I felt certain that not having seen me was going to pass me by.
I continued to wave but without response, then suddenly they changed direction and veered toward our position, very much to my relief. They helped to get the wounded man on board, I eagerly hauled myself onto the back, in doing so I had pulled onto the gun barrel to help me on forgetting that it had been firing and found that it was so hot that it took the skin off the palm of my hand.
We sped on our way to where the officer could be got away by ambulance, I saw him taken care of and went in search of Brownie. By strange coincidence it was 鈥楽tormy鈥� Rayner鈥檚 tank which picked us up, on whose tank I first served, they had been out to the fitters for repairs.
There were several ambulances, the MO and his orderlies, and a couple of our out-of-action tanks. As I went round I made inquiries of Jock the gunner and was told that he was on one of the ambulances but I was not allowed to see him. I never found Brownie, I don鈥檛 know where he went but my tank was there. I never saw him again.
On one of the out-of-action tanks beside my own there, laying on the side, were two headless bodies; on asking who they were I found that I knew them both very well; it was upsetting because only a few days previously we had worked and played together. We wouldn鈥檛 do so again but at least they would suffer no more fear and pain of war.
I learnt that the Germans had surrounded us and even the wounded could not be got away; there was hope that a new armoured division would soon arrive and either relieve us or at least make it possible for the ambulances to break out because some men were in urgent need of surgery.
I found out that the officer鈥檚 name who had commanded my tank during the battle was Mr Storey and that his neck was broken, and the same Orderly told me that Jock鈥檚 chest and shoulder were badly damaged. I realised that there was a shell in the breech when we were hit and he must have taken the full force of the explosion.
I began to get feverish, my right arm felt bruised and heavy, some blood was showing through my shirt sleeve; I had it cleaned and dressed and there was just a small cut visible on the elbow and thought that it was nothing to be concerned about; unfortunately it turned out to be a whole lot more serious as I was soon to find out.
My throat was parched and I was badly in need of water, I鈥檇 had nothing other than a few dried biscuits for about six hours. As there was no water on my tank I asked Corporal Brookes if he could spare me some, his reply was 鈥渉elp yourself鈥� and added 鈥渋t鈥檚 a white can鈥� - at least, I thought he said white: I found it and took several deep long swallows straight from the can. It was only after I鈥檇 taken the can away from my lips that I realised that what I had been drinking was not water at all, but very thin gun oil, a greenish colour, and not much thicker than water. I was immediately violently sick and was so throughout the night, I was very tired but not able to sleep; altogether it had not been a good day.
At first light I was called on to make up a crew, apparently the Germans had retreated and we were to take part in the follow-up. I didn鈥檛 feel too good and only partly aware of what was happening, everything seemed vague and hazy and my arm bothered me, but thought it was all due to lack of sleep. All I did was carried out automatically and I have little or no recollection of that day or any of the other days before we were relieved.
I remember being transported by truck and having a meal with 鈥楤鈥� echelon and seeing some of my old mates there, I remember arriving at Base depot in Cairo but not the hundreds of miles which it must have taken, and the day or so down through the desert before arriving there.

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