大象传媒

A Mistake

In September 1940 we had moved into Wiltshire in the west and all were aware that the next move would be our last in England. However, our billet, the basement of the Melksham Liberal Club, was an improvement on our old stable building in Surrey.

We were made welcome in the town and quickly struck up a pleasant relationship with the Local Home Guard unit. Our commanding officer received a request for an NCO to teach their soldiers how to use the Mills Bomb or Hand Granade. I was told to find a site on the War Department land, a safe distance away from the town. We were to go out several nights per week and the course was to culminate with each soldier being proficient in the use of the hand granade.

I had never used a hand granade but was allowed every facility, including boxes of grenades, a first class and comprehensive manual on the training required and the map reference of the War Department Land. I went to the site and found a fold in the land which offered protection and room to throw. I studied the manual, visited the site several times and practised throwing the bombs, including several live ones.

The following Monday evening I took the class to the site and we practised the throwing of the bombs minus the fuses. The following night we assembled in the wadi (valley) and each man took a turn at throwing a live grenade. The operation was a great success apart from the last grenade which failed to explode. I had prepared for this eventuality. Taking a slab of gun cotton, a primer and detonator, plus a length of safety fuse and matches, I walked over to the grenade. Fixing the components together, I gently laid the slab of gun cotton by the side of the grenade, looked back to make sure the class were out of sight, lit the safety fuse and ran back to join the class. Lying down, we waited anxiously. We did not need to worry, the gun cotton and grenade went off with a bang, leaving everything safe. We went back to the pub, had a farewell drink and went back to the town. The OC of the unit was pleased with our efforts and was kind enough to write to this effect.

Six months later I was in Libya, laying anti-tank mines. At the end of the day I was told to report to the Squadron Office. Somewhat mystified, I presented myself to be shown to an officer I did not know. The first question was, 鈥淛ust before you left England, did you run a short course on throwing hand grenades?鈥�

I replied, 鈥淵es.鈥�

His next question was, 鈥淒id you know you were on pasture land?鈥�

Still mystified, I replied, 鈥淣o, I did not see any cows.鈥�

He then said to me, 鈥淲hen you practised throwing the bombs, the shrapnel was scattered around and the cows which came to graze there swallowed the metal and three of them subsequently died. You are being blamed for this and may have to pay for the damage.鈥�

I was very worried that someone had managed to track me down via Freetown, West Africa; Durban, South Africa; Aden, Port Suez, Alexandria and Libya. Quite an effort. Fortunately somewhere a Senior Officer quashed the affair and I heard no more of it and I was allowed to get on with the war.

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