Spike Milligan - Monty: v. 3: His Part in My Victory - War Biography

(Memoires volume 3)

(Non fiction)

by Spike Milligan

1976

Edgington knocks his duff into the fire

T his Volume will cover from the fall of Tunis until our embarkation for the Salerno Landings. I have gone over the ground again, relating in more detail the days preceding the capture of Tunis, using my own diary, those of the Regiment, the Battery, and that of Driver Alf Fildes, who came up with lots of things Id forgotten, like how much I owed him. During this period, we did nothing but play at soldiere, having good times, having bad times, and times -neither good nor bad which consisted of lying in a red hot tent, looking at the join, and pretending youre having a good time, when in fact it was a bad time, but in the main it was a good time. I had with me wonderful comrades who made life worth while, anything that failed was laughed at. It was all a big joke that would stop when Hitler had his chips. Again thanks to Syd Price for his photos, Syd Carter for his watercolours, Mr Bart H. Vanderveen for photos of war time vehicles, Doug Kidgell for committing his memories onto tape, Harry Edgington for his letters, the Imperial War Museum for photographs, Al Fildes for his war diary, and D Battery Reunion Committee for reminding me of many incidents Id forgotten, like how much I owed them.

393 Orange Grove Rd,

Woy Woy, N.S.W.,

Australia

T o Mr Moy, a London taxi driver, who returned the manuscript of the book to the editor with no claim for reward and without whom this book would not have appeared.

J.H.

I n a tent, dripping with rain, battery clerk, L/Bdr Mick (I think Im ruptured) Haymer, rattled a dodgy typewriter and printed Tebourba reported % clear of enemy, @ leading elements of Armoured Div, dntering e Tunis & . That day fighting reached maximum intensity, and at 3.20 Tunis fell. We got to engage pockets of die-hards holding out on Djbel El Aroussia, said a man claiming to be a Sergeant.

Wots die-hards? asked Gnr Birch.

Well, when you die you go ard, says White, like gangsters in cement.

Thats why theyre called hardened criminals, says Birch.

Youre a cunt, says Devine.

Tunis fallen?! Ups a daisy!

Had we ordinary layabouts beaten the formidable German Army?

Dear Fhrer, beaten ve haff been by zer Ordinary Layabouts, signed Formidable German Army.

We won, said White, as though it had been a game of football. Gunner Lee parts his hair, the comb clogged with a six months pat of Brylcream and dust. I bet the victory cost Ladbrokes a fortune, we was 100-1.

I hear theres fighting in Cap Bon.

You must have good hearing, thats 20 miles away.

We gathered round the Cook House in a gulley adjacent to the now silent guns. Looming behind us is Longstop Hill, a blood drenched salient taken at Bayonet point by the Argylls. In the twilight our ground sheets glistened with rain.

Whats for the victory feast? says a cheery voice. Something that went Splush! was dropped in his mess tin.

M.P. booking a 17 pounder for parking on the wrong side of the battlefield

Deluge. The rain not only fell mainly on the plain in Spain, it also fell mainly on the back of the bloody neck, dripping down the spine into the socks where it came out of the lace-holes in the boots.

Christ!!! we got to move again! Who runs this bloody Battery? Carter Paterson? In darkness we load vehicles. I crash into someone.

Whos that?

Dont know, I think I start with G. Who are you?

If this thing on my back isnt a kit bag, Im Quasimodo.

I backed a truck down a slope; a scream. Owwww fuck!

Whats that? I said.

Me foot.

I never knew it swore. A fist hits me in the earhole.

The move is held up by torrential rain, meanwhile Sgt Dawson has got Bludy mulharia and is taken sweating, farting and shaking to hospital. Thats what comes of flogging is Mepacrin tablets to the wogs as sweets.

Rain. Mud. Boredom.

Christ, said Gnr White, I must be bored. I just thought of Catford.

Occasionally a lorry door would open as an occupant pissed out of the side to cries of Youre spoiling the carpet.

A creature shining like glycerine approached. his boots great dustbin lids of mud.

Let me in, it groaned, I cant swim.

Edgington squeezed in.

Anything on the wireless? he said.

No, the batteries are flat.

I thought they were square, he said.

Ill turn on the windscreen wipers, its not much, but its the best I can do.

He watched the blades sweep the rain from the glass.

Ooooohhh, he groaned in ecstasy. What other Army can give you perversions like this.

The rain is now frightening, the ground is rapidly flooding. We better start building a fuckin Ark. said Sgt Ryan.

Lunch came, lunch went, tea came, tea went, dinner came, dinner went. That was May the 8th 1943. Anybody want to buy it? Its going cheap.

NAZI NEWS FLASH

The scene:

Mrs Eichmanns boarding house. Bolivia.

HIMMLER:

Ach Ein bugger! Ve should never have lost Tunis! If der Fhrer had only eaten his tin of P.A.D.

GOERING:

P.A.D.?

HIMMLER:

P.A.D. Prolonged Active Dog. If mine Fhrer had eaten Prolonged Active Dog, today he would be 159 vid a beautiful coat.

A captured German pilot crapping into the cockpit of his plane in displeasure with the Geneva Convention

Dawn. Rain stopped. I prod Edgington.

Awake! for morning in a bowl of light, has cast the stone that puts the stars to flight.

Bollocks.

No it was Fitzgerald.

Fitzgeralds bollocks then.

The sun rose, angering the morning sky, and Edgington was none too pleased either.

Wassertime? he said, as he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth with a spoon.

Its hours 0600 darling.

Its hours too bloody early darling.

He opened his eyes with a sound like the tearing apart of fly papers.

Driver Fildes rapped on the window. Im driving to Tunis.

Edgington sits up. Can I come too?

Its about time you came to, I chuckled. The boot missed me, landed in the mud and sank slowly out of sight.

Its one legged marching from now on, I tell him.

We set off across the Goubelat Plain to Tunis, following the wake of the victorious 6th and 7th Armoured. We passed smouldering tanks, dead soldiers in grotesque ballet positions, Arab families emerging from hiding, baffled and frightened, and the children, always the children, more baffled and frightened than the rest.

In the Tunis streets the milling throng are thronging the mills. At a caf, two German officers drink coffee. Lt Walker asked what they were doing. In perfect broken English they replied, Ve are vaiting to be took prisoners old poy.

We motored slowly through the crowded streets, being kissed several times by pretty girls and once, by a pretty boy.

No ones kissed me, complained Gunner Holt, his face like a dogs bum with a hat on.