Approaching the Start Line

In my introduction I wrote about the extraordinary bond that existed between tank crew members. In North Africa where I crewed a Churchill commanded by a Sergeant Roy Burns, the use of given names was the norm. I did not expect, when I joined the crew of Ballyrashane that this practice would continue. We did not address Major Russell as "Gordon" but rather as "Skipper" which he preferred to his formal title. Of course, when not in action, military courtesies were always in place.

As we were now back on Compo Boxes, the reason for including the previous paragraph at this time, hopefully, will become clearer. As may be remembered, the boxes included rations for only fourteen men but, for crews of five over three days, there was a shortage which was made up by supplies from the Squadron Cookhouse. For us, it was always a large tin of curry powder the contents of which, when it was Skipper's turn, he liberally applied to whatever food he was cooking for the crew.

A word or two of explanation, as it may well be asked what is this all about on the eve of battle. Among the lessons learnt in North Africa was to leave tank interiors as free of clutter as possible, consequently much was carried outside in empty  ammo boxes etc. including the tin of curry powder. The  sound of our tanks approaching the start line - it was still  daylight - alerted the enemy and we came under fire from  Nebelwerfers, the infamous Moaning Minnies. This was  our first encounter with this weapon which, although  noisy, was not able to effect any damage to Ballyrashane except, mysteriously, the tin of curry powder had been "lost in action."

Knowing that petrol would not be delivered until well after dark, we all settled down to grab a few hours sleep. It seemed that I had hardly closed my eyes when I was rudely awakened by someone shaking me most vigorously, it was SSM Docksey. Thrusting a tin of curry powder into my arms he said it was a present from Major Russell. Sadly, I was not to learn how Skipper had determined that I was the culprit!

A short while later I was again awakened, this time by the bearer of a message from Lt. King. It contained, additional to the usual frequencies for the day, notice of a Regimental wireless netting at 03.30 hours. As any attempt at further sleep seemed pointless, I went about rousing the Squadron's operators to pass on the Signal Officer's orders. By the time all had been contacted, yours truly was not the most popular of fellows, particularly as some of the tank commanders had to be awakened in the process. Anyway, at the appointed time all of 'B' Squadron's operators were manning their 19 Sets, ready to commence the somewhat exacting procedures to ensure all sets were tuned to the same wavelengths. Although it was customary for one or more of HQF Squadron tanks to be on a Regimental net, this was the first occasion, in battle, when all the tanks were. There was much speculation why this was being done, however, as the events of the day unfolded, the decision to do so proved to be a wise one indeed.

It may be questioned why the netting procedure had to take place 2½ hours before the batlle was due to commence. The answer is, while today receivers are accurately tuned by the simple pressing of buttons, back then the 19 Set was not so blessed. Consequently, a few words of explanation are perhaps necessary.