大象传媒

Chapter 16a

Into Germany

The guns of 172 Battery were lined up on the edge of a big pinewood in Holland, firing across the border at targets in Germany. Walking quickly along one of the many rough stone roads that criss-crossed the wood, Bernard, one of our cooks, was on his way back to his field kitchen in the wood when the front door of the solitary house at the side of the road was suddenly flung open and a big-built, slatternly-looking woman with a figure like a sack of spuds tied in the middle, a wet-blackened piece of hessian tied round her waist for an apron, and holding a bucket of water in her hand, appeared on the step. Without hesitation she grasped the bottom of the bucket with her free hand, swung the bucket back, then jerked it quickly forward, sending a deluge of filthy water across the road regardless of anyone who might be passing. Bernard saw it just in time and leapt back hurriedly.
The dirty deluge sloshed on to the ground just in front of him, but because of his quick action in leaping back he escaped with only a few dirty little black spots on his clothes.
He glared angrily at the woman. "F*** you, missis," he exploded. The woman glared back at him. "And f*** you, too," she retorted, with equal feeling, and she went in and slammed the door.
Bernard stared at the closed door not knowing whether to be amused or amazed. Then a huge grin suffused his face as the unexpected humour of the situation got through to him, and he continued on his way, chuckling with amusement. The woman had made his war almost worthwhile.

During October we held the line in front of the Reichswald Forest, just east of Nijmegen, and on 11th. November - symbolic date, and exactly four years to the very a day since I was classified as a regimental signaller - we crossed the border into Germany and took over a sector of the line south-east of Sittard.
A week later the British Second Army, with the 43rd. Division putting in a powerful flanking attack, and the Americans making an assault to the south-west, struck at the Siegfried Line town of Geilenkirchen. The 43rd. won all its objectives in spite of the appalling weather conditions, which bogged down many vehicles, including tanks, just as it had at Arnhem.
The 7th. Somersets entered Neiderheide, the 1st. Worcesters captured Tripsrath, the D.C.L.I. captured Hocheid and then proceeded to cut the main road leading north out of Geilenkirchen.
The 4th. Dorsets captured Bauchem after the Middlesex had mortared the town for almost twenty-four hours. It was a brilliantly organized encircling movement that had gone completely to plan. Next morning the Americans entered the encircled town.
We in Roger Dog were with the Worcesters when they captured Tripsrath. The snow-covered village was the worse for having been shelled by both sides, scarcely a building remaining intact. The church seemed to have suffered the worst damage, having been used as an O.P. and, therefore, an obvious target. Only the burnt wooden framework remained of the steeple, looking like rough black chalk marks on a grey blackboard sky. The church was obviously of no further use as an O.P.
The only acceptable alternative was a long building fronting the main street of the village. It, too, had been damaged, but it did provide good cover and protection from the bitter cold wind. The Worcesters decided to make their H.Q. in the cellar, so I laid a telephone line from the cellar to the wide space under the roof (from which we would be observing) in order to have direct telephone communication with them.
While I was busy threading the cable through a broken pane in the cellar window I became aware of the sound of muffled footsteps crunching through the snow towards me. Glancing quickly round I was perturbed to see two men in white snow suits walking steadily in my direction and for one unpleasant moment I thought they might be cheeky Germans trying to infiltrate. Fortunately, I was wrong. They were a couple of Worcesters returning from dealing with a troublesome sniper.
The O.P. was a very cold place, with much of the roof missing and the walls pockmarked with shell and bullet holes, but it was ideal for our job. It was high enough to provide a good range of vision, which we could easily extend by moving a few yards in either direction. To the extreme right was Dorset Wood, so called because the Dorsets had captured it after some very grim fighting. To the left of the wood, but out of sight in the far distance, was the steel town of Rheinberg; and the rest of the vista in either direction was a mixture of open country and small woods.
For a long time after I had established myself in the O.P. nothing happened except the continuous comings and goings of the Worcesters. I was alone in the roof, with my neck tucked down into my great- coat collar and stamping my feet to keep the circulation going. Captain McAllister, who had replaced Captain Woodward --my former troop commander having been posted to another Battery soon after Arnhem --had been asked to attend an orders group with the Worcester officers, and as I gazed out across the snow- covered scene in front of me a sudden loud 'crump' caused me to look quickly in the direction of the sound. Through a hole in the roof I saw a dark grey ball of smoke hanging almost motionless against the lighter grey of the sky. I knew from past experience what would happen next. Sure enough, the second ranging round burst to the left of the building a few seconds later. The German gunners were right on target. They had got us perfectly 'bracketed'. I awaited the shelling that was bound to follow. I did not have to wait long. With a roar that seemed greatly amplified because of the relative quietness of the snow-muffled sounds I had just grown accustomed to, the shelling started. Shell after shell hit the village and its immediate vicinity. Smoke, flame and earth erupted from the ground. As buildings were hit, bricks, tiles and mortar performed weird aerobatics before landing to disfigure the previously virgin snow. Men ran for cover, shouting advice and warnings to their comrades as they did so. The clear face of the snow soon became blotchy with newly fallen debris.
Because the guns were firing from somewhere out of sight there were no muzzle flashes to be seen, so I had to take a compass bearing on the distant thud as the guns fired to try to determine their approximate position. The shelling was heavy and persistent; and it was accurate. We lost men. The Germans were evidently making a determined attempt to recapture the village.
As soon as he heard the shelling Captain McAllister phoned me from the cellar and asked: "How are things up there?"
"Bloody cold," I told him, "but Jerry's beginning to warm things up a bit."
"O.K. I'll be with you in a minute. I've nearly finished down here, he replied.
As I bent down to replace the telephone in its metal case a 1O5mm shell blasted a hole in the wall no more than three feet from me.
That's when things got a bit hazy. One moment I was bending over the case to replace the Don Five and the next I was lying on my back several feet away from it. When I had gathered my scattered wits sufficiently to struggle to a sitting position I saw I was covered with dust and rubble, and the telephone handset, with the five pin jack still dangling from it, still clutched in my hand. The metal case was still under the eaves, where I had placed it; it was completely undamaged; so was the telephone; and so was I.

continued in 16b

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