大象传媒

鈥淚 don鈥檛 know where we are鈥�.
I had heard that phrase so often I eventually got used to it and did not bother my head about it, because after a lot of marching we seemed to get where we were going to in the end.
I had absolute faith in the beginning that the Officer in charge knew what he was doing, but as time went on I began to realise he was not God and was just as likely to make mistakes as was the Lance Corporal next to me.
We were on the escarpment above Fuka airstrip in the Lybian desert, and we had just come back from a stroll in the desert to give us an appetite for tea, bully and biscuits.
The bully was one small tin small tin of corned beef between four men, and a packet of biscuits.
But we were happy in the knowledge that tomorrow we could look forward to a change we would swap them round and have biscuits and bully.
The drinks never varied and the issue was half a water bottle of tepid water with tablets added that made it taste like someone had drunk it before we did.
Trouble was, because the tea was made with the same water the taste persisted and some suggested it
had probably been used to wash out the tray of a parrot鈥檚 cage.
However this meagre ration kept us alive long enough to do what we were doing.
Strolling round a hot desert during the day, and if we were not doing the same at night we would be freezing as we lay on the cold sand with one blanket and a ground sheet.
To any one who has not been in the African desert it is difficult to paint a verbal picture that would
do it justice.
Especially at night.
The sky looks like a deep void of blue, and floating in it were what appeared to be clusters of jewels glinting in the moonlight like the pictures in a kid鈥檚 fairy tale book.
During the day the sky is usually clear but now and then a fleecy cloud will scud across.
So too would the Italian war planes would cut their engines and glide and like the prairie dogs we were always ready to bolt into our dugouts.

If we got caught on the march we would hear them in time to get under our ground sheets that had been quickly moistened then sprinkled with sand thus camouflaged we would keep still and hope the pilot would not see us.
It is sometimes so quiet one can hear the silence, but it also lets one hear if someone is approaching a
long time before he becomes aware that someone else is there sharing his desert.
The only time that falls down though, is when we lay on the sand in a shallow dugout trying to get some sleep.
I remember one night we had hunkered down to sleep after marching all day.
The banter and jokes were missing tonight, I think because everyone was completely exhausted with the heat and the everlasting flies that caused us to use more energy keeping them at bay so we could breath.
Even the Officer was quiet as we scraped the sand away to make a depression so our bodies would not show a silhouette in the moonlight.
Also we were sheltered should a sandstorm develop during the night.
Before going to lie down we would sort out who was going to watch from now till two hours from now.
These two blokes would awaken two more and so on until the dawn.
I must have dozed off and I was dreaming.
I was watching a train in the distance, and gradually it was getting nearer.
Suddenly I woke up to see a Bren gun carrier racing toward us doing about sixty miles an hour.
Then he was on us and gone, leaving behind him clouds of choking dust and two of our blokes dead.
The driver would keep going because in the desert he wouldn鈥檛 even know he had hit someone.
If you have never seen a Bren gun carrier at speed in the desert, the best description I can offer you is to look at some one in a speedboat on the river.
A Bren carrier is a bit like that in that when it hits a bump at speed it becomes airborne.
And the only part of it one can see is the front bit, because remainder is obscured by billowing clouds of fine dust.
And the next day we carried on two men short.
We also lost men in a sand storm, we would hunker down to wait out the storm out, but sometimes a bloke had to obey nature and would go off on his own and get lost in the desert or walked into a quick sand.
Either way we did not see them again.

We found a well one day and thought as we lowered a can down to get water, this was going to be like
having a cold frothy beer.
But when the can came up it had sludge in the water and we thought the water had been poisoned, but later we found out it was oil seeping up through the ground, so we did not get a fresh drink that day.
The next day an Italian spotter plane was heard in the distance and we kept still under our ground sheets until he was gone.
We were fortunate in that he did not see us, so when we were sure he was gone we sat down and had a biscuit and a drink of tablet water, lukewarm as usual.
That night I woke up to a funny noise, it sounded like some one was suffering from an asthma attack and I looked to where the sound was coming from.
Five feet away were a pair of eyes glowing like two live coals in the dark.
Now and again the hyena would bend its front legs and sniff at the bloke who was either asleep or playing dead a few feet away, but I wasn鈥檛 in a playing mood so slipped off the safety catch of my rifle and the hyena was gone like a shot.
He must have seen me rear up to aim but I would not have let go for fear of hitting the bloke laying there, also we would give our position away, but I would have shot if it had attacked.
They have a powerful bite and if one attacks they all do so one is at risk, one hyena would back off, but not a pack, and in the dark when you can see lots of pairs of eyes winking at you it鈥檚 time to do something about it before they get too bold.
I did, I yelled a rude four-letter word, followed by off, and this woke everybody, or rather it roused everyone, because others had been awakened by the funny noises, and I noticed most now had a naked bayonet in the hand.
In the morning we had a laugh about the incident, but at the time it was not funny.
We marched some more and came upon some blokes in trucks, they gave us some fresh water, and we got a drink of hot tea from them and some grilled sausages, but the same old biscuits were present.
But that was the best we had tasted for a long while.
I liked the way they grilled the food,.
With a tin half full of sand they sprinkled some petrol into the tin and the sand immediately soaked it up.
Then someone struck a match and threw it into the tin and it looked just like a gas fire because the petrol can only burn when it mixes with the air at the surface of the sand.
Anyway it made a pleasant change from bully beef in tins that could not wait to get out of the tins ad were oily due to the sun鈥檚 heat during the day.
We said cheerio and continued our march.
That night we were told to be extra on the alert because we were close to an Italian listening post, and we dug out just enough sand so we could lay down and not be seen in the moonlight, then we lay very quiet and listened and in the distance we could hear the Italians speaking and laughing.
Sometimes one Italian would stagger out to obey nature or to throw up, having mixed drinks or over indulged.
It sounded like they were having a party.
And we would remain silent and watch and wait, and should one of the Italian revellers come too close we would nab him, and take him back to our lines and get information from him.
Now the trick here is patience, and sometimes it was disappointing when the Officer would throw a stone and one would look up to see who had thrown it, and one would see the Officer pointing to his wrist watch and mouthing time we were gone.
We would get back to our position as it was getting light.
Even without a prisoner all was not lost, we would draw maps of where we had been and what we had seen and heard, and these would be passed on to someone else who would get it all together with other reports and add it to the big picture.
The Italians would probably think the missing bloke had got lost in the desert, it being dark and the bloke usually p----d as a cricket.
This went on for some weeks and we learned the operation was going to be motorised so we were moved back to the escarpment.
Two days later we were below the escarpment digging trenches in the sand when some one shouted 鈥淭ANK!鈥� the officer shouted 鈥淲HERE?鈥� and the bloke pointed at the tank to our front.
If it had been a monster dragon breathing flames one could not have got a better re-action from our blokes.
After the initial shock of looking at this steel clad monster peering at us over the top of the escarpment all the blokes in the area were grabbing up their guns and putting a round up the spout.
The Tank鈥檚 gun was pointing our way but since the machine was up on the escarpment and we were below him it could not have cranked the gun down to fire at us because we were too far below him.
The angle was also too acute for the machine gun also we could see poking out from the front.
Our Officer commanded everyone to load and aim at the tank.
Then the top opened and a posh voice called, 鈥淚 say chaps, any chance of a brew鈥�?
Our red faced Officer went up and gave him a good rollocking, 鈥� We nearly shot you, you clot.鈥�
鈥淣ot really old boy鈥�, chirped the bloke with a curly moustache and black beret, 鈥淭hose things don鈥檛 pierce these things you know, still you might have scratched the paintwork, and then I would have taken an extremely dim view of that, whar whar whar, what!?鈥�
I thought our bloke was going to cry, he was so annoyed.
You could tell how dischuffed he was, he made us fill in what we had dug out and marked out a spot about fifty yards further back.
Before we got started digging it another Officer came along and asked what were we playing at, 鈥淚f you have a trench here you are in line of fire from the escarpment.鈥� said he.
鈥淣o, no, that won鈥檛 do, oh deary me no鈥� and he walked to where we had just filled in and said, 鈥淭his is the right spot I think, yes this is more like it, I think this will do nicely.鈥�
Taking the little whistle that hung on a string round his neck he put it in his mouth, blew a short sharp blast, put one hand on his head and shouted, 鈥淓veryone to me move.鈥�
I heard some of the ex Indian service men groan, 鈥淕awd, where did we get this bleed鈥檔鈥� fairy from ,the bleed鈥檔鈥� Brownies鈥�?
A Scots accent joined in 鈥淎ye but he blaws a canny wustle ye ken?鈥�
Another suggestion was to shove the whistle where he couldn鈥檛 reach it, and a murmur of approval seconded this remark, as guffaws of laughter also supported it the red faced Officer snarled 鈥淕et on with it then鈥�.
The disgruntled among us had to shovel out the now loose sand and we were glad when it was finished.
We could drape our ground sheets over it to get some shade meanwhile our stalwart Commander was sitting on a rock under an umbrella sipping drinks from a cool drink esky.
One ex Indian walla said 鈥淵u wouldn鈥檛 see that in India.
鈥淣a, mate yu would not, some o鈥� these cocky young buggers come straight from Sandhurst
think they know it all.
They don鈥檛 know if their ass is bored or punched 鈥榓lf o鈥� 鈥榚m鈥�
We ad wun bloke broke the neck off a bottle cos e鈥� didn鈥檛 know how tae get the bleedin鈥� top off, naw I aint pullin鈥� yer leg mate, I bet Daddie鈥檚 maid served him drinkies every day so why should he bovver鈥�?
Remarks like these eased the tension sometimes but there were times when it could get out of hand, usually if a mobile canteen had just visited the area.
Some blokes would simmer and when the canteen came they would get so full both with liquid and rage.
If at the wrong moment one of these cocky young Officers happened along and started to be abrasive that was the trigger and I have seen good soldiers go to the glasshouse for attacking an Officer.
The glasshouse is a bit like the film The Hill.
No one in his right mind wants to end up in the Glasshouse.

We had one new Officer came to us while we were in the desert.
No one knew anything about him and we kept an eye on him for the first few days.
One day while we were on a march through the sand we stopped and he surveyed the landscape with his binocs and suddenly remarked, 鈥淭his is a God awful place, just miles and miles of s--t coloured
f鈥攌 all.
鈥� Some blokes had a giggle and that broke the ice and that bloke turned out to be a good Officer
He would take off his shirt and get stuck into any digging we had to do, not like some of the other
twenty day wonders they sent us.
But we didn鈥檛 take liberties.
When no other officers were around he was like one of us, he had no crust on him at all.
But like some other good blokes he got killed at Sidi Barani
Well that鈥檚 how it seemed in the desert, you get somebody who is a right Charley and you can鈥檛 get rid of him.
One day I was sitting on the sand busy cleaning my rifle, cooling breeze drifted across the hot desert and I thought how pleasant it was sitting here minding my own business, when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in the sand about fifty yards away.
I carried on what I was doing but I was looking side ways out of my ear it seemed, but there was nothing there.
When I had finished cleaning I clipped a canvas scabbard over the bolt part of my rifle to keep the sand fouling the very slightly oiled bolt.
Held in place by two press buttons and could be discarded in a split second.
I looked at the sand were I had seen movement and could now make out a big sand spider, it looked like the pictures I had seen of the huge bird eating Tarantula and at first I thought nothing about it until it slowly began to move slowly toward me.
I picked up a stone and threw it at the spider but as the stone neared the spider it side-stepped and the stone missed it.
I threw another stone and it dodged that one also, then I put my bayonet on my rifle and tried to stab it, but it evaded my every effort and I now noticed it never retreated.
It would inch forward when I walked away from it but when I approached it it would squat down ready to dodge again, I now felt the hair on the back of my neck rising because I had not come across any thing like this before and I was not going to tun my back on it.
I was thinking does it spit poison? can it jump or bite? could it be poisonous even?
However it was it was aggressive and I was taking no chances.
Then I had a an idea, I would out wit the little s**t for attacking a Brit, so I put down my rifle at the same time I kept my eye on the spider because having seen how fast it could move I was not about to take any chances.
I collected as many small stones as one hand could hold I approached the spider that squatted down again as I approached it.
I let go with this hand full of stones and the spider did not know which way to move to evade the volley of stones that hit it like a blast of buck shot.
While it lay stunned I gave it one for good - measure with a really big stone.
One of our blokes wandered over to see what I was doing and when he saw what was left of the spider he said 鈥淵ou wouldn鈥檛 want that in your blanket at night.
I agreed.
We always knocked our boots out in the mornings, which were all we ever took off at night.
We knocked them out because some times during the night a wandering centipede would decide he had found a new home and creep into a boot or up a trouser leg.
That鈥檚 why at night we always used to tuck the bottom of our trousers into the tops of our socks.
There were scorpions, most of the bigger rocks had scorpions under them so one always checked before sitting with ones back to a rock.
They could be very painful and some times fatal.
Hawks and vultures knew when it was grub time and one had to cup one鈥檚 hand over ones bit of bully sometimes other wise they would silently swoop and the food was gone from the mess tin.
I鈥檝e seen irate blokes throwing stones after a fast departing vulture with the bloke鈥檚 bully ration firmly grasped in its talons.
According to our blokes all vultures in Africa were born out of wedlock.
Sometimes a group of our mob, The Argylls, would pull up at our position and they would take over while we would hop on their trucks and we would be transported down to the beach for a swim and relax.
Wash our clothes out and drape them over a dead bush and go for a swim.
They would be dry by the time we got back.
Then we would give them a good beating to get rid of the salt.
These little trips to the beach was really appreciated because we hardly ever got to take off our
equipment back at the position in the desert.

We were sort of, 鈥橲tood to鈥� at all times.
Always ready for action meant just that, because there were times when a light dust storm could cover an enemy bent on destroying anyone they just happened to encounter.
On a clear day we could expect to get a visit from the Italian air force, then we had to get under cover and stay still hoping that if they straffed the position we would not be hit.
Some days one could see for miles in the desert because of the flat terrain.
If someone decided to visit, we had plenty of warning because a cloud of dust could be seen if it was transport, and if it was a group then small dots would be seen in plenty of time to arrange a reception committee.
The horizon seemed always to be shimmering and at times we would see a lake but when we got to it it was gone and the sun seemed to be hotter still.
To make matters worse we would get some disgruntled bloke muttering all the time, 鈥淲ait ti ah get hame, ahm gonna buy me a pub an鈥� drink mah鈥檚el stupit鈥� and someone would say, 鈥� Ye dinnae need tae buy a pub fae thaaat Jimmy鈥�.
Sometimes it would raise a laugh, but sometimes it could get ugly, and I once saw bayonets drawn before an Officer intervened with one hand on his revolver.
鈥淪ave that energy for the enemy, anyway it鈥檚 too hot to fight鈥� and this would break the tension.
One day a truck came and we were informed that there was a Dentist at the rear position and 鈥淎nyone needing the Dentist speak up now or forever hold your peace.鈥�
Someone volenteered 鈥淎h鈥檝e bin鈥� hoddin鈥� mah piece aw day, an鈥� et doesni feel ony deferent.
And the young Officer blushed and said 鈥淗ow about a nice cold bucket of water鈥�?
And a droll voice warbled, 鈥淛ist geez a wee meenit ti ah get aw me gear aff wull ye?鈥�
I had just cleaned my rifle so I popped it on my shoulder.
Without further ado this other bloke and I hopped onto the truck and amid a cloud of dust we made for the rear position that was about fifteen minutes away.
When we got off I let the other bloke go first and wished I had gone first, because suddenly he was howling and struggling and he came out of the chair swearing and sweating and mouthing, 鈥淏loody butcher鈥�.
Then, 鈥淩ight your next!鈥� and, 鈥� Come on I haven鈥檛 got all day鈥� and with a stiff finger motioned from me to sit in the chair sitting in the open sunshine on the sand.
He smiled and said 鈥淪orry I haven鈥檛 got any pain killers but your a big boy, let鈥檚 have a look鈥� and he picked up a chrome plated prod and explored my teeth and warbled, 鈥淥h my goodness you have four molars that need filling, well this won鈥檛 take long.鈥�
And he had this little drill which when he switched it on sounded like an angry wasp.
He started with the first tooth and as I edged lower in the chair the drill hit a nerve.
It felt like he was driving red hot six inch nails into my gums.
I slid out of the chair onto the sand, but he followed me down and the other three were drilled with me laying on the sand and the dentist on my chest.
鈥淣ow that wasn鈥檛 so bad was it?鈥�
鈥� Now sit up on the chair and rinse your mouth and we will finish up, ok?鈥�
So he mixed some filling stuff and when all was finished I was glad to get back to my unit and I thought never again would I let a dentist at my teeth, they can drop out first.
One of the times we went to the beach we had a game of footy
We kicked this sack full of rags tied up with string to resemble a football until some idiot kicked it into the sea and it got carried out by the undertow and we just laid about in the sun until we heard an aeroplane engine in the distance.
We got in amonst the rocks and laid still but he did not come close enough to see us.
Then the truck came to take us back into the desert and every one was a bit quiet because our position was strategic so we could be attacked any time.
Bit like a Monday morning feeling, you have to go back to work after a lazy Sunday.
The next day we were sitting on the sand taking it easy when some one hollered 鈥淟ook at that鈥� and slowly creeping toward us was what looked like a solid cliff of sand, but it was a sand storm, and when you see one like this one you take cover.
Scoop out the sand to make an indent in the sand so you can lay in it then pull the ground sheet over you and cover your mouth with your pullover so you can breath.
We found out early in the piece that your hanky got clogged up with dust, so a pullover being thick and woolly made a better air filter.
There will be a lot of very fine dust with the sand and it could choke you.
So for about fifteen minutes you watch this abomination creep closer and closer then you feel sand begin to sting as it hits you at speed driven by a now hot and very strong wind.
One bloke had a knee sticking out and suddenly pulled it in because of the burning sensation he felt and when he looked all the skin had been burnished from his knee and it was a bloody mess.
The driven sand strips the paint off of our trucks as efficiently as a paint shop sandblaster.
The only consolation is no one in his right mind would attack us in this kind of weather because it is difficult to see a hand in front of one鈥檚 face and blokes could get blinded and lost so easy.
We had all been issued with clear plastic eye shields and later found out that even Rommel preferred the light weight plastic eye shields to the heavy German eye protection goggles.

But the time to be on the alert was as the storm was petering out, the enemy could be following it to surprise the unwary, but that did not happen often.
The sun used to come up at dawn just like a huge ball of fire and one could feel the difference as it began to usher away the cold of the night.
And if a breeze sprang up it was bearable, but with no breeze it would soon get to be like being in an oven.
In the open desert there is no shade so one just had to stick it out by digging a hole and cover it with a ground sheet then sit in the hole and keep looking out so no one can creep up and surprise one.
On one occasion one of our blokes was going for a leak and as he climbed out of the hole the Officer asked him where was he going and he replied with, 鈥� I鈥檝e had enough I鈥檓 going home.
The Officer drew his revolver and said, 鈥淕et back here or I鈥檒l shoot鈥� but the bloke replied, 鈥淔鈥攌 you, shoot, who gives a s--t and walked on, having relieved himself he came back and the Officer let it go, nothing more was said about it, but it showed that sometimes the situation needed a bit of give and take with all ranks, mind you given a different Officer the outcome may have been very different.
Leave in Alexandria was always a pleasant sojourn, but our pleasures were curtailed by the lack of finance.
Bob Moat was a chap in the same company as myself, and one day he was in the same truck as I as we went on leave to Alex for a few days.
We met an Aussie who had to go back to his unit the next day and he was grieving because he had a lot of money left and asked us if we would assist him to get rid of it.
With pleasure we agreed to help him so the three of us set off and had a right old time.
We sat on the terrace and had coffee laced with rum while admiring the passing talent.
Then we visited the local cinema where we could sit down before we fell down.
We were sitting down when the King Farouk national anthem was played.
Some locals standing behind patted us on the shoulder and made motions with their hands for us to get up while they frowned upon us.
I looked round and saw two mouths and four ears covered by what looked like a ginger wig that refused to focus, but the two mouths were working overtime and the breath was not too pleasant.
But to keep the peace we got up and wavered there until the anthem ended then we slumped down again, and dozed and missed most of the picture.
We had spent most of the afternoon in the grog bin and had got as pickled a three walnuts
At half time I heard this rumbling noise. Looking round I noticed a huge slice of sunlight streaming through the ceiling.
The rumbling continued and a beam of sunlight got broader and broader until the noise stopped and the sunlight was streaming in and all the tobacco smoke was leaving and ascending heaven wards.
Bob said, 鈥淚 hope God smokes鈥� and I giggled, and the Aussie bloke dragged out a hip flask and offered us another swig.
Then the rumbling started again and the opening closed and the second part of the program began.
All in all it was a good leave, and it was the last one in Egypt.

But there are still some of our blokes in the desert who will never be found.
Because the wind blows and the sand moves, and they have no marker, but they will be remembered by those who loved them, and those who were fortunate enough to have had their company, in this lonely desolate landscape.
They left us in the bloom of youth and we owe them. We got the freedom but they paid the bill.

2982252 Pte Barker T.O. 1st Bn Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders

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