What actually happened, on that fatal day, in the Western Desert! Well, I’m about to tell you, the full story. When we arrived at the Suez Canal, we were, helped by the Egyptian people, to unload the ships of all the equipment. After a few weeks, we assembled all the men and equipment, and headed south then west toward the Western Desert. I was an Out-Rider. There were six of us, our job was to go forward and report any matter of concern, to the Command. On the way down, I witnessed an endless procession of Bedouin, Nomadic Herds People and other peoples all heading to Cairo, they knew it was on, and they were moving to safety. The Commanding Officers, set up a Line, which stretched from No Man’s Land, to the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, in front of the Line, there was a large hill, to the south of No Man’s Land, from this hill, and the whole battlefield could be surveyed. From this point all could be seen. Now, what the Out-Riders had done was, make tracks across the desert on the hard ground, so we could see where the hard ground was, and did not hit any soft spots and come off our bikes. They, allowed us to traverse the desert, at break neck speed, and that’s how we rode! The Line consisted of thousands of men, artillery, trucks, munitions and other equipment. Being blessed with exceptional night vision I set out about 04:30 that morning, while it was still dark I reported to the Command Post on the hill, it was my job, to ride out about 12 miles, to a forward lookout position, and, get the statistics and disposition, of the enemy as they approached, then report back to the Command Post, with the data. So, just before the sun was coming up, I rode, down the hill and out into the Western Desert 12 miles forward or more along the tracks the Out-Riders had made, it was still dark when I left. When I got far out enough, I set up on observation position. We did not know exactly what to expect. You asked me what I saw. Well let me explain it this way, you know when you look down the road and you see a shimmering water like Mirage, well that’s what I saw shimmering across the desert approaching midday. That’s what I saw first, and then from the shimmering Mirage, I could see their diesel and dust rising above this water like mirage. Then they appeared through the mirage, so I started to crunch the numbers as Field Marshal Ernst Rommel continued his desert blitzkrieg at a very high rate of speed! A Rolling Barrage of Artillery! As their Line got closer, I could see, they were moving artillery towards the coast, which meant, they had a pincer movement in mind, furthermore, the artillery they had, was far superior to ours. For example: they had one artillery piece, the 88 millimeter gun, which was an antiaircraft flak gun, a tank destroyer and a high explosive artillery piece deadly accurate is all I can say. It was designed more like a rifle than a cannon, this is what gave it its accuracy. Closer and closer they came, I think I must have outstayed my welcome, because they did something, I did not expect, they took a shot at me, not one, not two, but three, and not with small guns or rifles, but with the 88 millimeter flak guns. The first shell, went screaming by me, skipped across the ground, like a hand size rock skipping across water, stopped, and then exploded, leaving a large crater in the ground, two more followed, and one, just missed me, the third shell was so close that, the percussion wave coming of the shell, hit me so hard, it knocked me of my feet and I landed fair and square on my back side on the desert floor. I quickly got back on my feet and knew one thing and one thing only that I had out stayed my surreptitious presents. Got it. I then jumped on the bike, my job was done, I had the data we needed for the Command Post, and there was no time to lose. Now the tracks the Out-Riders had made on the desert, came into play, I hammered across the desert at break neck speed, past tanks, which were now coming under fire, and being hit by the 88 millimeter guns. The line was also being hit, and the northern end of the line was under heavy attack. Keep this in mind, 60% of our men had World War 1 equipment, which did not give us anywhere near an even footing. In fact, the Line would have been butchered, if not for, what I am about to tell you of, the courageous decision, those Officers, on that hill, made that day. Well finally, I reached the hill, rode up the hill to the Command Post, where the whole of our Line can now see me, “they know something’s on either to pull back or stay and fight to the last man”, I took my report to the camouflage tent, where the Officers were in council, I gave them the numbers. The numbers, I brought in that day, was the Official Numbers, accepted by the Officers, and was placed in the Official Military Report, regarding the action! From the hill, we could see the northern end of the Line being butchered, and the Officers had to make a decision for the best outcome for all involved. Understand. Churchill wanted them to fight to the last man. They had to decide, whether to pull back, or have, another Gallipoli on their hands, this was the prospect they were faced with. They then made the courageous decision to pullback so they could save as many men and as much material and equipment as possible, to return reinforced and fight back another day. Now, the situation was this, they had to get the Order for the pull back to the Line, for the Line would not pullback without Orders, and someone, had to carry the Order, which I, was Ordered, to do myself. Now, let me tell you, by this stage there was heavy fire coming in on the Command Post, and I had to move quickly, to get to the Line to give the order to pull back, I had to ride out into the battlefield, about a mile, and let the Tank Commander know, as they had lost contact with him, that the Order to pullback had been given. At this stage I took my World War 1 piss pot helmet off, and dropped it on the desert floor, piece of crap, needless to say, “inferior equipment”, Got it? The worst helmet out of all of them! I’m saying the World War 1 helmet would have only been a hindrance at this stage. Keep in mind, it was of a similar design that the Romans used more than 2000 years ago to stop nothing more than slings, arrows and sword blows, Not shrapnel from 88 mm shells, or modern day bullets, or very high impact explosives do you understand where I’m coming from? I’ve then, put on my captain’s cap, and pulled the chinstrap around my chin, and my goggles from up around my neck and over my eyes, So, the Officers wished me luck pulled up stumps, jumped in the vehicle, and went the long way down the back of the hill, to give the Order out to the Line, in case I did not make it to the Line “K.I.A.“. Got It! I had to ride out into the battlefield, to get the order out faster, to save any further, needless and senseless loss of life; the other Officers went the long way. I went the short way out onto the battle field to complete my mission!
THE GAUNTLET! “Do or die”.
I kicked the bike over, now, I was on a wing and a prayer, I rode the bike to the edge of the hill on the northern side, where all the line could have seen me, what I did then, was looked down at the track in front of me and kept my mind on the job at hand. Now the line was being pounded and the ordinance was thick. Down the track on the hill I went out into the battlefield with artillery shells going off all around me, and bullets whizzing around my head like bees, understand! I then rode out, and told the Tank Commander that the Order to pullback had been given, he then said they could not hold their positions much longer anyway, they were being taken out one by one, by the 88s, the turrets of the tanks being blown clean off, the crews inside the tanks burnt to death, they were literally turned into charcoal or carbon, he wished me luck and I replied, and you the same. I then swung the bike around hard and fast, there was a track heading straight to the Line, I was about a mile out. I hammered that bike as hard as I could at times becoming airborne. When I got about 150 yards from the line, I felt a dull thud hit my left leg between my knee and my ankle as an 88 millimeter shell came in and exploded right on the middle of the track in front of me, the explosion left a huge crater in the ground. Now I must explain something to you before I go any further, all artillery shells are different, that is, shells contain different propellants and explosives, when they explode the propellant sometimes, (depending on the atmospheric conditions) can leave a fine layer of petrified sizzling sand, which turns into a fine molten glass. Because of the speed I was travelling I tried to detour the crater but the soft sand made the front wheel dig in hard and I hit the edge of the crater, the bike then acted like a catapult, pitching me off the seat, throwing me up in the air and across to the other side of the crater left by the 88 shell’s explosion, then landed face first on the molten sand. Lucky, I had my goggles on, as I’m sure they saved my precious eyes, but I am sure, if I had been wearing my World War 1 piss pot helmet I probably would have broken my neck. I quickly, got up, brushed this molten sand and sizzling shit off me, my jumper was singed and smoking, at this stage my adrenaline was such that at the time my left leg was of no concern. By then I was 150 yards to 200 yards from the Line, and then I made what I call, “the run of my life”. By this time, the Line was literally, being blown apart, bodies everywhere and the men were being split in two down the middle, and everywhere legs, heads, arms and bodies flying all over the place, also artillery pieces were being hit and blown up and hurled up into the air. “Left, right and centre” trucks and supply dumps were being hit, and this is what I mean by the term our Line was being butchered! With my adrenaline pumping flat out “I ran like hell” through very thick ordinance, artillery shells coming in, artillery shells going out, assorted bullets, coming in and bullets going out, and an alarming assortment of ordinance going off all around me literally everywhere all along the line at the same time, both ways. To this day, I still don’t know how, I made it to the Line! “I put it down to my Guardian Angel and a simple case of run rabbit run”. When I got to the Line, I gave the Order out, and at the same time as the order went across the Line, you ask me what happened next, the answer is simple, I collapsed as my left leg gave way, I was exhausted, completely spent. The boys picked me up, threw me in the back of a truck so hard and fast that I slid along the truck floor and hit the back of the truck cab with my back, Got it.. Now the pullback was in full swing, however, the northern end of the Line, had suffered enormous casualties, where the enemy, had put in place their pincer movement. We suffered great losses as a consequence, of the orders coming, too late for them. This was one of my greatest disappointments of that day, that I did not get to the line sooner, but nevertheless I got there, gave that Order out, which allowed us to return and fight again, better equipped with those saved men!
The Back Way
Now, I am going to explain to you what happened, when I rode down the hill out onto the battlefield, and, what the offices actually did. First of all, around the bottom of the hill, they had a 60 man guard. This however was not your average ordinary guard. Every man in that guard, held the highest weapons marksmanship scores in target practice using assorted weapons machine guns, rifles and pistols you name it.. Now let me put it this way, these men were that good with their weapons they could hit a fly’s asshole at 100 yards, got it, they would hit the mark every time. First of all they had to rally and round up those men. When they came down of the hill they had to make a hard right hand turn, and then a left, this put them on to what I call the steps of the Quattara Depression, these steps are created, by nature where the Western Desert is slipping away into the Quattara Depression, creating a step like landscape, and we were using the top step, too traverse backwards and forwards to the line. The trucks were parked on the steppes which had a 15 the 20 foot sand cliff this protected the trucks from being seen from the battlefield. When they had gathered the men into the trucks, the convoy then proceeded along the top step, heading west to the east, more or less parallel with the battlefield; they drove up a sloping incline, back on to the Western Desert. There they had to turn left, and drive a half a mile to the line, to give the order out for the pullback to go into action for no one would budge an inch “that is to say until the end”, they had to more or less, make a U-turn, got it, Now you may ask, why they never drove across the desert to the line directly, the answer is simple, if they would have taken this option, they would have been just like sitting ducks, the same as the ones in the shooting gallery arcade game, picked off one by one, by the 88 mm flak guns, “Dead Ducks” that is, they would not have had a chance in hell. to make it to the line that way, so they had to use the steps, comprehend! And this is what was taking place when I was out on the battlefield, riding my gauntlet. While I was in the truck, the Medic checked me, and said, I had been shot in the left leg between my knee and my ankle, however my boots had minimized the damage, and then, I did something that I’ll, never, do again, he pulled out a hypodermic needle and I let him give me a shot of morphine, Well, let me tell you, that was the “first and last time”. Have you ever had anything like that? Made you totally disabled! It smacked me down, the medic asked me whether, I needed another shot of morphine as we were approaching Cairo, I thankfully, and gratefully, declined. The drug had such a dramatic effect on my senses, I didn’t even realize, the trucks were being strafed by Stukas (the Junkers Ju 87) and other axis air craft, on the way back to Cairo. Keep in mind, the Axis pilots were seasoned veterans, with years of experience, amongst the best in the world. When we got to Cairo, they put me in hospital it was full of maimed, shot, very severely injured and shell shocked soldiers it was not in the least a pretty picture. I personally did not suffer from this condition (Shell Shock or P.T.S.D.), for the following reason. I have a saying, “let the bullet go past, that is to say once the bullet goes past don’t dwell on it”, “it’s gone, it’s finished, it’s over, it’s out of my mind and that is why I never got shell shock”. I was in hospital for 10 days, they wanted me to stay longer, but, I discharged myself, because, there was only a number of weeks to go before we would return, to the Western Desert! “Stuck in hospital. Not in my life”. Got It! As told by titch
