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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Roger Marsh of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Reg Reid, and has been added to the site with the author鈥檚 permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

The Lighter Side of War

By
Don Alexander

CHAPTER 15b: Lieutenant Baker thinks ahead - then leaves Butch in the desert.

Lieutenant Baker led `A' platoon in a convoy to the docks at Bone, an Algerian port near the border with Tunisia about a hundred miles from the Germans at Bizerta. Butch set off with his box of tools in a 3 tonner about ten minutes later, the `tail end Johnny', prepared to repair any of the platoon's lorries that fell by the wayside.

Sometimes drivers simply ran out of fuel on convoys. As well as the stout steel gerricans of petrol some cheaper tin petrol containers were issued - shipped over from Blighty - someone's bright idea back home to save money. Drivers called them `flimsies'. They would slowly leak on the voyage over and by the time they could be secured to working lorries for use in the desert they were only half full.

All manner of supplies were coming for the allied armies to the ports of Bone and Tripoli now as well as Algiers and Oran. The German and Italian armies were hemmed into Tunis but Hitler continued to push troops and supplies to Generals Arnin and Rommel through Bizerta and Tunis.

`A' platoon had orders to pick up ammunition and weapons for the 7th Armoured Division of the 8th Army in Libya, south of Tunis.

Our `tail end Johnny' reached a crossroads where a signpost as well as a British Army Military Policeman on duty there indicated straight on to Bone. At the docks Butch, singing to himself 鈥榥ick nack paddywack, give the dog a bone...' looked in vain for `A' Platoon and broke off his song to say to himself:

"Where the bleeding Heeley is Baker?"

Algerian dockers supervised by British troops had nearly finished unloading a couple of vessels.

"Where the hell is that daft chuff?"

Half an hour later the "daft chuff" appeared as the convoy roared into the dockyard. Lieutenant Baker looked surprised.

"How long have you been here Reid?"

"Half an hour sir."

"Did you go straight ahead at the crossroad?鈥�

"Yes sir, I followed the instructions, the sign and the redcap."

"Aaaah. I told you Reid you can't place your trust in signs, how do you know the enemy hadn't turned them round?"

"And the MP sir?"

"The MP might not have been aware the sign might have been turned round. Or he might have been the enemy in disguise. The Germans have been known to do that Reid. Officers have to get into their devious little Teutonic minds!"

The Billingsgate market man driver Manny Smith whispered loudly, "For Christ's sake, Butch, let him have the last word, or we'll never get done." They then all got on with loading the supplies.

`B' and `C' Platoons had collected provisions from Algiers dockyards and at dawn the following day seventy-five lorries of 133 Company `A', `B' and `C' Platoons moved south into the desert and round into Libya at speed with supplies for the 7th Armoured Division.
They gave a wide berth to Rommel's men on their Mareth defensive line in south Tunis. This was a series of French built forts now occupied by German and Italian troops. Butch was in the back of Lieutenant Baker's pick-up with his box of tools. What an honour for the lad.

They were at the end, of the convoy, which was led by Major Dodds in his Humber. Lieutenant Baker confided that 133 Company would be incorporated in the 7th Armoured Division shortly. That was why the brass in the shape of Major Dodds was going on this "mission" to meet for discussions with a colonel of the 7th Armoured Division. He leaned round and tapped Butch's upper arm. "You'll soon be stitching the Desert Rat insignia on that sleeve, Reid. We'll be in the 7th Armoured Division of Monty's 8th Army. This is in confidence. Major Dodds will give everybody the gen. at roll call tonight."

Butch said he'd be proud of this and in course of further conversations said he loved the peace of the desert. He didn't go to church but could understand how Jesus had found solace in the desert.

Liuetenant Baker told his batman to stop the pick-up and told Butch he could stay in the desert keeping in sight of the road if he wished with his tools, his mess tin and water bottle. If a lorry broke down they knew where Reid was and would get him to the scene or get the break down lorry to tow it back to the workshops at Medjez-el-Bab. This was a chance the young mechanic appreciated - he valued the perfect peace, savoured the moment, not a sound, an almost religious atmosphere, and he alone except for one or two Kite Hawks (or shite hawks as the 8th Army called them) wheeling noiselessly black against the late afternoon sky high above him. He instinctively drew his mess tin and water bottle towards him.

The desert wasn't really empty of course, especially nearer the coast. Yanks, Tommies, Poilus, Jerries, Ities, Ozzies, Kiwis, Indians, Poles as well as Arabs strode the scene. Sometimes Bedouin Arabs, "the burrowin' Arabs" as they were called, unseen in their dugouts, camouflaged by sand-coloured tarpaulins, would send out their children with eggs to sell to the troops.

The little Arabs seemed to appear from nowhere: "Oeufs Tommy. Oeufs Johnny," and the lads of `A' Platoon invariably bought them even if grossly overpriced. It was worth it for the amusement caused by the little Arabs sudden appearance - and even quicker disappearance with the Tommies' money. A kindly lot, the British troops, though Fred Alexander used to speak of the times in the 1920s going through Suez, when some of the troops selling tins of tea to Arabs in boats who came alongside, put only a thin layer of tea in the tins with sand underneath. One Arab, putting his finger in the tea, shouted up to the guilty troops, "You British are like this tea, good on top, bad underneath."

Not true. Not true. Certainly not true as far as `A' Platoon was concerned. Back to Butch in the desert alone as the sun went down giving a dazzling effect to the landscape. But its beauty was overshadowed by a thought: Had Baker forgotten him? He felt just a bit alarmed. Baker's three or four had become five or six hours, so when a mini convoy of six vehicles came by he hitched a lift. They were 8th Army lorries and, amazingly, were heading for Medjez-elBab.

Lieutenant Baker passed his apologies via Sergeant Allen. 133 Company, now incorporated in the 7th Armoured Division, came back by a slightly varied route out of range of Rommel's guns on the Mareth line. Butch had been forgotten!

Mid February 1943 - Medjez-el-Bab - 133 Company supporting 7th Armoured Division credited with a Great Victory whilst not leaving camp.

The liaison colonel from the 7th Armoured Division who'd had discussions with Major Dodds in the Libyan Desert came to address the assembled company one day in mid February 1943. He came unexpectedly so there was no time for Major Dodds, his lieutenants and NCOs to work up to the degree of bull they would have liked but he congratulated them on their state of readiness and went on:

"Shortly the balloon will go up and any morning now, at dawn or predawn, you'll be called on to move munitions, food and possibly troops. Get as much food and drink and sleep as you can while you can. It's essential we win this battle."

Lieutenant Baker had a look of triumph on his face, a `what did I tell you' look.
Reveille was early, before dawn the next morning, 133 RASC (7th Armoured Division) faced the unknown with apprehension, even a bit of pain in the stomach, though moral in `A' Platoon was high. They had the feeling `they'll never get us, we'll win through!'

What happened next? Nothing. They weren't called upon.

They weren't called upon the following morning - or the one after - or the one after, etc. etc. A week passed and they were still on high alert doing details to the docks, etc., with a greater sense of urgency, but they still weren't called to battle.

A message came to Major Dodds that the colonel was coming to address them again. He came in dust covered Jeep, red-eyed and in what Sergeant Allen would call 'crap-order'.
Not smart at all.

Dodds had the lads brassed and bulled-up this time, to a very high degree. Lieutenant Baker, Sergeant Allen and the corporals had harassed and encouraged them right from reveille. They really thought this was it - let battle commence. Let battle commence looking smart at least. Sergeant Allen even came out with a remark popular with sergeants since it was first used in Wellington's day. "Come on lads, if you die today, you don't have to die tomorrow!" Imagine the whole company, three lines of men, in perfectly straight lines, in front of their seventy-five lorries, all neatly aligned too, the dusty colonel on the back of his Jeep to address them. Imagine the astonishment at his words.

"Well done, men, the offensive action, with your support, was bold and effective and has dealt a blow to the Axis powers. Rommel and his troops, German and Italian are now cowering behind their defences at Bizerta and Tunis. It won't be long before we finish the job thanks to your recent action. I want to congratulate you each in person. "

One by one they marched up to the colonel saluted and shook hands. Brotherstone had winked at Butch and whispered, "Bold and effective action, eh, boyo?" And they both had difficulty restraining their laughter.

Rommel's plan for the Axis forces was first to strike out westwards in mid February 1943 at the British, French and American troops massing against him, after which he would turn south against Monty's 8'h Army in Libya near the Mareth line.

The Americans suffered serious casualties at Kasserine Pass, but Monty knew of his adversary's plans via Bletchley Park, and Rommel lost Mareth and was pushed back to the Axis strongholds of Tunis and Bizerta. This was the bold and effective action that had been spoken of. Butch commandeers another car plus notes on `friendly fire' and Anglo American rivalry

On detail outside Medjez-el-Bab, Butch stood with his box of tools waiting to be picked up and taken back to camp, when mamma mia! a beautiful car, a Lancia Aureola, hove into view in the midst of a batch of Italian troops, defeated following Monty's bold and effective action. They were stragglers making their own way to the prisoner of war camp - not too demoralised. Not many Italians seemed to support Mussolini, and in prison camps from Orkney or Lodge Moor, Sheffield, to the desert, spent their time doing beautiful paintings and drawings and making exquisite artifacts out of humble everyday objects. (In Orkney you can see today a beautiful Catholic Church they made out of two Nissen huts with wall painting of the Madonna etc. that wouldn't have shamed Leonardo himself, and with candlesticks made from brass stair rods and lanterns made from old corned beef tins etc.)

Driver Dougie Pope had a water wagon and one of his duties was supplying the Italian prisoner of war camp at Medjez-el-Bab. They had no thoughts of making plans to escape the barbed wire and spent their time making clever little gifts from discarded toothbrushes etc. Officially there was no fraternisation but Dougie bought a lot and resold them to the lads at a profit for them to send home. Butch wasn't the only entrepreneur.

Back to Butch again: he commandeered the Lancia and ordered the four officers out of the beautiful machine and `con il piede' or some such phrase to walk with their men. He drove to the RASC 7th Armoured Division camp at the farm, hid it in bushes, covered it with tarpaulins, and backed a lorry up against it, and bob's your uncle, it was his and hidden!
Over the next few days as he used it to carry his tools to jobs, and for spins with lads into the desert, several NCOs were covetous of it and he had to tell them: "It needs a lot of work doing on it. It would let you down, perhaps in the desert, and you'd be at the mercy of the merciless sun, the kite hawks, the Nazis."

Incidentally, one of the other fitters suffered burns working in the merciless sun. Wearing just a helmet, shorts, socks and boots he tripped against a lorry's mudguard heated by the sun and sustained nasty burns to his chest. Butch and a medic rushed him to a burns unit in the military hospital at Medjez. He might have seen my father in the same ward.

The RAF Regiment came under attack by the USAF! in what we call nowadays `friendly fire.' The lads in blue were cooking on an open fire, and when the American bombers attacked, the RAF lads threw gerricans of water to douse the flames. Gerricans of water and gerricans of petrol were same shape, same capacity but different colours. Butch had forgotten which colour was which.

Unfortunately at that long forgotten RAF base someone threw a gerrican of petrol on to the fire in error. It was dusk and the petrol exploded lighting up the sky and some lads were burned, my father on his chest. Fred, who died in 1961, when I was doing National Service in Berlin, told me that the huge matron, before ripping a huge plaster off his back, had assured him, "This will hurt me more than it hurts you!"

So much for the merciless heat, the merciless yanks and the merciless matron! The German General Kesselering is credited with a rather mean remark about our cousins `over the Pond'. 鈥淲hen the Germans attack the British, duck down. When the British attack the Germans, duck down. When the Americans attack everybody ducks down!鈥�

General Alexander had to orchestrate the multinational allied effort to finally beat the beleaguered German troops in Bizerta and Tunis. The II US Corps, the IX British Corps and XIX French Corps from the west, all eager to be in at the kill; feeling that they should have a degree of priority over the hugely confident and successful Monty and the British 8th Army. Alexander had to get the troops that had landed in Algeria and Morocco up to 8th Army standards.

The French troops were good and knew the country, but were ill equipped. The Americans were well equipped but inexperienced; Rommel had mauled them at Kasserine Pass and US General Fredenhall was replaced by General Patton. American General Bradley was commander of II US Corps near the coast. Alexander told Churchill in a report at this stage of the war in North Africa, "My main anxiety is the poor fighting quality of the Americans. "

Perhaps he was getting back, if subconsciously, at US General Stilwell (Vinegar Joe!) who, in the Far East, had expressed a poor opinion of Alexander and the British surrender in Singapore.

US official history records: `General Alexander's unfavourable estimate was destined to linger, encouraging him to depend more heavily upon British Units than later circumstances warranted.'

Pr-BR

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