The Cine Technician (1943 - 1945)

September — October, 1944 and more manoeuvrable. One of our planes, obvioush crippled, dives to within say two hundred feet, followed closely by a -Jerry — one burst from the latter's guns and our chap hit the deck. All during this set-to. I was standing, gaping in awe — holding my camera as though it was a spade ;iii\ how, Knight yelled at me to get weaving, and gel some shots of the plane with the pilot getting out unscathed — it was no good, one look at what remained of that chap finished me for a week to Ci me. Still, after a while, as do all fellows. I got used to these sights — travelling south I saw ninety-eight Jerry tanks burnt to cinders with the crews still inside — some good material here. The next two months prior to the breakthrough, I spent travelling around, shooting stories and getting used to desert life as a whole. Washing sand-sodden clothes in petrol sleeping with spiders and scorpions — it all takes a little getting used to. After a month under the guidance of the section officer, I was placed with an old desert rat -Frank Martin of Fox (still man) — and we remained as a pair until our fateful day at Benghazi. The battle found Frank and me attached to the Tanks; just after the last attack by the Highland Division we lett the tanks for a morning's shooting with the Scotties. who at that time were mopping up the Jem trenches. After getting the usual stuff of our boys bringing Jerries out at bayonet point, we got caught in a counter-attack — red-hot metal was dying everywhere. Yours truly took a header into a dug-out already occupied by prisoners, whilst Frank leapt into a slittrench — this latter action was followed by a horrible yell — Frank had landed right on top of a supposedly dead Jerry whose face was covered by a blanket — a common Jerry trick. After this, things rolled along pretty smoothly — the whole army was on the move, chasing Jerry hell for leather. Frank and I went down south with the tanks who were perfecting an encircling movement on Meisa IVIatruh. After three da\ s of driving through rain and bitterly cold weather we found ourselves within sight of the main coast road again. The action that followed was comparatively small, for 'lie main enemy force bad already gone, leaving some thirty men manning one anti-tank gun and a few machine guns. In all. four prisoners were taken, the rest having been blown sky-high by 'the 75mm. guns on the Sherman tanks. Just ifter we had finished shooting the Jerries giving themselves up to our tanks, three Spitfires flew nit of the sun straight towards us, cannons and machine-guns blazing away — hoy! did I rundown a slit in one bound. Our hoys were turning round for a second dive at us, when somebody in pne of the tanks found their recognition flares and bed them. Phew! Believe me, that was a very hectic five minutes — our boys are too accurate 'or my liking. [HE CIXE-TECHXI C I A X After this episode, it was just a matter of chasing across miles and miles of desert, after a retreating enemy. We left the tanks, left everything, and tore along in the jeep through Sidi Barrani, Solium, Bardia. to Tobruk — covering the fallen towns, prisoners, etc., as we went. Eventually we arrived at Benghazi — just as Jerry was leaving from the other side of the town — leaving behind him burning ships in the harbour, vehicles and stores. Here my active desert days ended — for Major Macdonald had caught up with us and given us leave in Cairo. We packed the jeep on the morning of 21st November, L942, with rations and 2."> gallons of petrol, enough to see us well on our way back in our drive east for leave. Upon leaving Benghazi town we were directed inland by an M.P. who said that the coast road was for up-traffic alone that day, and that we'd have to take a desert track to Borce, our first call on the route hack. Well ! we took a track back, but unfortunately it was mined I remember making for the train lines in the jeep, but that is about all. I can't remember hearing any explosion— it was curtains straight away. When I came to. after some hours, it was raining, and I was gazing up at the sky. My first thought was " What a silly ass, sleeping outside with no cover " — somehow I rolled ovei and started crawling around. God knows what 1 was looking tor must have been instinct — anyhow, 1 found Frank, or at least stumbled across him — lying face up — stone dead. Food and water was my next though! — evidently I tilled m\ pockets with Army biscuits, for months afterwards I was still picking pieces out of them. The last thought before I passed out was to walk down the rail track to civilisation— but that never came about, for I was found, so they say. running around yelling out "Frank's dead, I've no legs and I'm blind" (the latter disabilities are my worst fears — they must have become impressed on my subconscious mind). One of our own Unit found me — Outfield, of the Standard — a War Correspondent. After covering Frank over with a blanket, he rushed me off to Borce hospital, fearing that mv condition was worse than it actually was. After three or four days I came to in Cairo, to find my head and face well and truly swathed in bandages and my left arm in plaster. And so my desert days ended — although when the campaign was almost over I was sent to Algiers, then on to Tunis, to cover the expected enemy "Dunkirk." But as you know, it never came off . . . and here I am now in Italy.