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troops. I think she was honoured with a medal. And then there was Mrs? and her "Berka Bints", they always went down with the lads. Some evenings in the N.A.A.F.I., when Jeff Gander had a few drinks, he would recite to us "The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God" - it was his speciality. For quite some time things up the desert had not been going very well for the 8th Army. Rommel's Africa Corps had been pushing on towards Alex at an alarming pace. Our Intelligence Officer kept us informed with maps etc of what was going on. Things were getting really serious and as there was only the one road, the desert road, from Alex to Cairo that we could take if things got very bad it was decided that the whole squadron would move out and to go Abu Seuir in the Canal Zone. Everything was loaded on to trucks and all but two planes were flown out. Then on the day the convoy of trucks was all lined up and ready to go, with all of us ground staff sitting on the trucks, I could see the Adjutant with a piece of paper in his hand walking down the line calling out names, of which I was one of them, with instructions to get off with our kit. We were to stay here as a skeleton crew with just the two planes. I am afraid I wasn't too pleased but stay I had to. The convoy moved off down the road and we watched then go with utter dismay. If the worst happened we had instructions that if the planes could not be flown off they were to be burned. For days I had visions of Rommel's tanks appearing along the road and me becoming a P.O. W. Fortunately the 8th Army held the line at El Alamein. After the stalemate of Alamein things settled down again and the whole squadron returned. There was plenty of action over Alex at night, a very' heavy ack-ack barrage was put up whenever "Jerry)" came over and we were kept busy with many "scrambles". Most days a German reconnaissance aircraft came over flying at a very great height, leaving vapour trails, and he was unmolested, as we didn't have any aircraft in Egypt that was capable of reaching that height until at Abukir there were two Spitfires which were stripped down of as much equipment as possible, just leaving one "Spit" with one gun, the idea being that the unarmed plane would get above "Jerry” and force it down to the lower level of the other “Spit”, which would try to shoot it down. And it worked, too - no more planes after that. One day an open staff car drove onto the camp carrying some very high-ranking officers. We were all told to gather round and one of the officers stood up in the car and gave up a “pep-talk”. That officer was “the father of the R.A.F” Lord Trenchard. On the evening of 23rd October 1942 something took place that I have never forgotten. At just about 2100 hours (9 o'clock) the whole night sky was lit up by the flashes of artillery and the sound of guns reached us. This continued for about two hours with no let-up. It was the start of the Battle of Alamein. When this battle was won and the 8th Army began to advance we were kept informed of progress by our Intelligence Officer. The 8th Army had now been making rapid advance up the desert for some time and one day our black night “Beaus” were flown away to be replaced by new light blue planes. These were day fighters complete with gun in the observer's turret. And so we became a day operational squadron. This must have been quite a challenge to our aircrews - one day night-fighter, the next day expected to be day intruders. But I'm pleased to say they all coped admirably. We were then informed that a detachment of a few planes was to go forward up to near the front line. This was now well past Benghazi. I was again picked to be one of our section to go with the ground crews. Things that we needed to keep the planes flying were all packed on to trucks with our kit. The convoy then set off along the coast road for our five-day trek across the Western Desert. When we reached where the Battle of Alamein had taken place I had never seen anything like it in all my life. The desert all round as far as I could see was covered with what is termed “the debris of war”. The sand was covered with everything - smashed trucks, burned out tanks, guns, crashed aircraft, a boot, a rifle, steel helmets, socks, shirts, a bayonet, petrol tins, boxes of ammunition, a jumper, abandoned Italian tanks in perfect condition. There was everything imaginable for miles and miles. White flags and notices saying, “Mines - beware”. It was policy not to go far from the road and the cemetery at Alamein was just rows of plain wooden crosses. The Military Police had a gruesome task: they had to collect and bury the dead. Our first night stop was El Daba. There was a N.A.A.F.I. here by the roadside, the first of four between Alamein and Tobruk. We slept on the ground by our trucks and as this was now wintertime it got very cold in the desert at night. A good thing we were issued with battle dress. |
