Not Flag or Fail (4 page)

If the rain started again, at least we would have somewhere fairly dry to sleep.

I quickly worked out the guard rota and then there was time for a brew and a fag before we turned in. As we sat around with our tea and Player’s Navy Cut it was obvious from the subdued atmosphere, despite the fact that we were now in the company of more members of the BEF than we had seen since we had first arrived in France. Whatever the reason, suddenly we were all very uneasy about our present position.

The next morning there was still a lot going on. Our position, again at a crossroads, allowed us a grandstand view of the proceedings. The RAOC were heading in all directions, ferrying men and equipment, backwards and forwards, interspersed with these were a few light and medium tanks. We watched with interest as several companies of Field Artillery drove through, we wondered where they were going to be positioned.

There were so many British soldiers around that staying inside the wood would not increase our security, so I sent Jack and Ronny off on a foraging mission and told Harry and Fishy to go and see if they could find some roofing for our dug out.

I stayed by the gun in case the Lieutenant wanted us for anything, I was actually taking a bit of a risk sending all the lads off but everyone seemed so busy running around and getting sorted out, that I thought we would be forgotten about for a while.

Fishy and Harry were back after only about ten minutes, carrying two pieces of corrugated iron.

“There’s tons more of this just in the wood where we parked the trucks.” said Harry.

“It’s a bit rusty but if we go back for another couple we’ll have enough for a roof.”

“Go on then,” I said “I’ll get a brew on for when you get back.”

When we’d had the tea we set about roofing over our dug-out. The sheets were big enough to span the hole and once we had done that we once again piled a few feet of earth on the top. Now that we had the basics of a shelter again, we felt happier.

Ronny and Jack came back empty-handed. It seemed there were items for sale but the increased amount of soldiers about, had inflated the price of even the most basic commodities like eggs and milk so the lads had decided not to pay the going rate. It looked as if it was going to be bully beef and hard tack for a while at least.

In the afternoon Lieutenant Davies came over to us and stayed and had a brew with us during which time he explained that our job was going to be to keep open the lines of communications to the coast. Fishy put his hand up and the Lieutenant gave him permission to speak. “Sir seems to me we are going back now the way we came. Are we losing sir, because if we are, how come, cus we ain’t fired a shot in anger yet?”

Lieutenant Davies looked at us all and seemed to weigh up his words before speaking, “I’m afraid I can’t argue with Gunner Thomas, we are getting a lot nearer to the coast again but I have feeling that before so very long you’ll be firing your guns in anger, more than that I can’t say and that’s because I don’t know anymore.”

With that he stood up and turned to walk away.

“That’s all chaps, from now on stay on full alert.”

The stream of vehicles passing up and down the road continued through the day, slowed down now by an ever increasing number of civilians with their belongings, all heading for the coast. I don’t think I’d ever seen such variety, in the forms of transport used. There were people walking, carrying suitcases and bags. Perambulators were very popular, loaded with everything other than babies, handcarts being both pushed and pulled, cars, vans and buses, horses and carts, ponies and traps. Probably, most incongruous of all, an old Citroen Butchers van, loaded to the gunnels and being pulled by a horse driven by an old bloke sitting on top of the cab roof. Perhaps though the most worrying aspect of this procession was the number of dishevelled, dejected looking French soldiers who had swelled its ranks.

Military Police and Belgian Civil Police drove up and down, doing their best to keep the traffic flowing, but there was no doubt, chaos was starting to take hold.

We had got hold of some Spam and were enjoying this spectacle whilst eating our Spam fritters with the usual brew up, when the stillness of the evening was shattered by a terrible wailing and roaring. All around us columns of earth shot up into the air on both sides of the road. In stunned silence we watched as the refugees fled for the cover of the trees. The sky went dark and the banshee wailing increased. Looking up, we could see the cause, as the Stuka’s swooped down following up their attack. There were five in total; the two who had already released their bombs were climbing back skyward, while their three mates came down in close formation, their sirens making a terrifying roar.

Suddenly what was going on around us went home. I threw down my sandwich and shouted to the lads “man the gun!” Ronny had the angles worked out before I’d finished speaking and on his instruction Jack had the gun elevated to a line the planes would have to pass as they started their climb back.

“Ready!” shouted Fishy as he stepped back from loading the gun.

“Fire when ready!” I shouted back to Ronny.

There was the usual muffled boof that you get with this type of gun; I watched it recoil as the whole process was started again. We could get off fifteen rounds in a minute but with a swiftly moving target like the Stuka’s accuracy and timing were the requirements not speed; similarly there would be no point in putting in tracer shells as the aeroplane would be long gone by the time we saw where we were.

We fired a total of thirty shells after the Stuka’s, and I was fairly sure we had hit the fourth of them although it continued on its way seemingly unharmed. However, I think that our shots and similar ones from other guns in the battery did probably deter them from coming back to use their machine guns on the civilians. The downside was now they knew where we were.

People started to climb back out of the ditches and cover, where they had sought shelter. Now that the planes had gone they began to attend to the dead and wounded. I think we would have all liked to have gone across and helped but the Lieutenant shouted over to us to tell us to remain with the gun.

Eventually all of the casualties had been dealt with, and as darkness fell, the refugees continued their slow trek down the road towards the coast.

I was last up the next morning, after sharing the last guard duty with Fishy from 02.00 until 06.00.

It was 10.30 and as I drank my tea I noticed that on the road there were fewer refugees but more army vehicles, including quite a lot of French.

I also noticed that some of the other units that had been in positions close by us had gone. Presumably, at some time after 06.00 because they were still there when I went to bed. I saw Lieutenant Davies heading towards us and I expected he was coming to tell us to get packed up.

I was wrong, what he did come to tell us was that, with the exception of our battery, all of the rest were withdrawing to a line nearer to the coast, we had been chosen to cover the retreat. Once he had given us a rough outline he walked off to one of the other crews, leaving us free to talk.

“Blimey Bomb! They are leaving us in the shit.” said Jack Hampton, trying to sound tough but I could see his bottom lip trembling as he spoke.

I didn’t answer straight away, probably because my thoughts were pretty much the same as Jack’s.

I looked around at the faces of the rest of my crew, all of them looked worried.

“Ok,” I said at last, “the Lieutenant isn’t asking us to be hero’s, he’s just telling us it’s time to do what we signed up for, and if we are going to get out of this, that’s all we have to remember, we’re here to do a job.”

“Nobody said we’d be doing it on our own though Bomb, did they?” cut in Fishy.

“Take a look around Fishy, we’re not on our own, all the crews are here.” “What are you saying then? That Jerry’s better at this than we are, eh? Better than the pride of the flippin Royal Artillery” Fishy looked down at his feet but the others chuckled,

“I’ll second that.” said Harry.

“Rather,” said Ronny “bring em on!” to which we all laughed, even Fishy.

I sent a couple of the lads over to get some extra armour piercing shells and then we waited.

Almost as soon as the lads came back we heard the sounds of aircraft. They were on us before we saw them; earth exploded all around us as they released their bombs, the wailing sirens of the Stuka’s filling the air in a terrifying cacophony that made it difficult to even think.

But somehow I did think. “Take cover!” I screamed, pointing to the dug-out and seconds later the five of us fell into it, in a jumble of arms and legs. What a brilliant decision, because right behind the Stuka’s came Messershmitt’s. The machine guns from which tore up the earth, where a second ago we had stood.

We watched struck dumb and horrified as the bullets ricocheted around the gun position, demolishing everything in their path.

“Blimey! I don’t like this anymore.” said Harry, as he pushed his tin hat back, getting a better view of the proceedings from behind the tarpaulin.

We could hear more bombs exploding as the planes pressed home their attack.

“Shall we give ‘em some back Bomb?” Fishy shouted from the back of the dugout.

“Are you after a medal or something?” I replied “The only thing you’ll give them if you leave here is your arse, our best hope is to sit this one out.”

Just as quickly as it had started the attack was over, we left the dug out after about five minutes of silence. Slowly other blokes started to appear from around the other gun positions.

The amount of damage caused by the attack was difficult to believe. Four men had been killed and twelve were injured (two seriously). Four guns including ours had been damaged beyond use and five trucks once again, including ours, were rendered useless when a direct hit on one that was loaded with HE had blown up the others.

We attended to the wounded, buried the dead, reorganised the guns and stripped anything useful from the damaged equipment. When all of this had been attended to, Captain Roberts called us all together. I think we were all feeling guilty that we hadn’t returned fire but Captain Roberts explained to us that we had done the right thing in taking cover.

“We have an important job to do here and we can’t do it without you. So I need you alive and operating your guns, you’re no good to me dead.”

“Stay alert and with any luck we can get our revenge when they start coming down this road, and believe me they will start coming and soon so be ready.”

With that he walked back to the command tent.

The lads split up into their crews again and we walked back, we’d been given another gun that had previously been the property of one of the injured crews. We moved out our old one and put the replacement into position and then we got the stove lit and put on a big Dixie of stew and some potatoes that we had come across earlier. As we sat together eating our meal I could sense there had been a change in all of us. The five high spirited young men we had been, just a few hours ago had disappeared, I suspected probably forever. I looked from face to face, all were smiling and I knew why we had survived our first action, we had come through unscathed, others hadn’t been so lucky, but that was how it was, you couldn’t change it.

It was just before 06.00 the next morning when we got word that they were coming. We all stood waiting by our guns looking down the road.

We were nervous, excited even, but if any of us were really scared then we were hiding it well.

“Ok chaps here they come, watch your range, B gun take tank on the left, C gun take the wagon with the troops, D gun select your own target!” The Lieutenant shouted pointing at them with his pistol drawn. The enemy were 600 yards away so he was not going to shoot anyone, well not a German anyway.

“Gun ready!” shouted Fishy.

“Watch your marker, then and fire on range” I shouted back to the crew and watched as our tank drew level with Ronny’s range. ‘Boof’ went the gun, followed by a ‘Boof’ from the C gun and another from the D.

Our gun was by now reloaded and ready, Ronny had made his adjustments.

“Fire at will!” I shouted. At this stage there was nothing I needed to do, so I watched the tank. Our first shot had fallen about 10 yards to the right, of the tank second in line, just in front, but almost as I heard the third ‘Boof’ from our gun I saw a direct hit on the left side track. I watched as the tank started to turn on its own axis, I hadn’t meant to say anything but the excitement overtook me. “Go on!” I shouted, “give ‘em another.” And they did, but this time the turret exploded and the tank started smoking. Meanwhile, the shots from the other crews must have been finding their mark because now several other trucks and tanks were on fire. Others were either stuck, or bumping into each other, as they tried to get out of the way.

Lieutenant Davies came back across to us, still waving his pistol about; I was really beginning to wonder about the safety catch now.

“Come on lads! H.E. shells and let’s fire into the middle of them. Remember Bombardier Willis and his crew! No, quarter lads, don’t let them turn back” he shouted, caught up in the excitement.

All around our guns continued to fire ‘Boof’, ‘Boof’. What a wonderful sound. A few wayward shots came back towards us from the tanks but they were too unsettled and were well out with their range finding, they really didn’t concern us. There was no infantry with us and we were not really in a position to move forward and take advantage of our success. All we could do was maintain our position and keep firing. We watched as some of the tanks and trucks managed to find a way out of the mêlée and head back the way they had come, it was frustrating however there was nothing we could do but to watch them withdraw.

As the last of the Germans disappeared from view we started to relax a little, looking around I could see that we were all pleased with ourselves, and why not?

The training had worked, we had fired in anger and we had hit the targets. We had forced Jerry back. Ok, so some of them now lay dead in the wreckage but we had buried a few good blokes ourselves, so we weren’t going to loose any sleep about that.