The Cine Technician (1943 - 1945)

July— August, 1943 THE CINE-TECHNICIAN 85 Would not therefore encroach upon his — which was, at that time, nearly one half gallon per man per day for all uses: washing, cooking and drinking— it was agreed we would start off at dawn, hoping to find some evidence of the invaders. A few miles beyond the wadi we picked up German tank tracks; these we followed until climbing out of a little depression our two cars stopped short for, coming over a rise and bearing down on us were two armoured cars: Friend or foe — ? We grabbed our rifles. On seeing us, they separated, took up position of advantage and stopped. We scrutinised each other through our field glasses; satisfied we were friendly they closed in on us. I grabbed some pictures of them as they came alongside, as they had a couple of prisoners aboard, Italian airmen whom they had just picked up. These armoured car boys told us that our bombers had caught a concentration of Jerry tanks refuelling at a point ten miles to the south and it was in that direction that I stood the best chance of meeting up with some Jerries. As the General was more interested in spotting new gun positions, we parted company. Yes, the bombers had had a bit of sport, for there lay one of Jerry's latest tanks, with its mutilated crew still smoldering away, giving off that strange, unpleasant smell so distinctive of human j flesh. Besides the tank, there were two burnt-out petrol lurries, two ammo-carriers and a staff car. Too bad I didn't get a shot of that ! But twice we had to " lie doggo " as enemy planes came over, though I could never resist a shot at them with my rifle. While we were trying to scrape together the remains of a German and bury them, another armoured car drove up and told us that all the Jerries were now back behind their own wire except for a few more tanks which had been knocked out. So. feeling a bit disappointed, we set compass course and headed for our wadi where the General treated me to a drink and what at that time seemed a damn good meal. The foregone will give you some idea of days spent by those who seek to get action shots on the desert, but fails to give all the problems, for — had 1 been able to catch up with Jerry — the next thing would have been to get into a position from where I could photograph them without being spotted and knocked out. The shimmering heat waves, which so often prevail, make the use of long local-length lenses impractical, and to make tlie job more difficult, desert warfare is a war of dispersal, and the camouflage boys' are far too good at their jobs. Learning of our coining November offensive and believing it would be from the low-flying bombers strafing Rommel's tanks that the best shots could be secured, I managed to win myself a home with a South African Squadron who were at that time flying Martin Marylands — a four-crew medium bomber. At first, the CO. would only allow me to go on test flights as carrying me meant that one member of the crew would be left behind — a very unpleasant and unfair situation for the kite and other crew members in the event of an attack by fighters when all members depend on each other to do their job and fight their way home. It was however agreed that I should be allowed to take a course in air-gunnery and if my score proved satisfactory I would be allowed to ride as No. 4 (rear gunner), with the understanding that should we be attacked the guns immediately took priority over the camera. This latter stipulation I planned to overcome by camera-mounts and remote controls so that both guns and cameras could be worked together. Long years of pointing cameras seemed to aid me in aiming machine guns, for I was very soon accepted as an air-gunner. The first few raids I went on were very interesting, but not too spectacular. They were high-level shows around the 20,000 foot mark. We would be called before dawn, enjoy a hot breakfast in the cool air, go to the briefing tent, be given all the details of the job on hand, including information from Intelligence gained by reconnaissance flights and other means ; the latest weather reports and so on. We then piled ourselves and flying kit into trucks wdiioh drove us to our planes, which had already been revved up and taxied to the take-off point. At the last minute, we pulled on our heavy kit and climbed into our kites, me with my cameras which, in an endeavour to protect from the dust, I carefully wrapped in silk which I had salvaged from an Eyetie parachute which had not done its wearer much good. We then tested our oxygen supply and our intercommunication system, the latter a most important procedure for it furnishes the only possible means of contact between the foreward members: No. 1, the pilot, and No. 2, the navigator bomb-aimer, with the rear memb No. 3, the radio-operator, and No. 4, the gunner, tor between the forward and aft stations is the bomb-bay with its unfriendly load. To me, our take-off was always dramatic. As No. 1 opened the throttle and we slowly began to move, the ground crew always gave us a. eh smile and wave. As we collected speed, the huge plume of cream-coloured dusi blotti «l thi m from view. Tearing along, we would see. a few hundred yards beyond the starboard wing, our tents our desert homes — with the lm\s watching, slide by to he swallowed up by that ever-growing and • pursuing dust monster. Our old I rmed heavy, and heavy she was, for our tanks were full and we usually carried eight 250-pound bombs.