Open Writing

Water was a very precious commodity. The water wagon came every day and our four pints each had to suffice for drinking, washing and shaving. To try and keep the water cool, we'd dig a hole in the sand, bury the can there, and sometimes park the tank over it. This helped to some extent, but the water was always warm. If we decided to wash a shirt, we poured petrol into a big tin, dipped the shirt in, wrung it out, then hung it over one of the scrubby bushes to dry, which it did in no time.

From here we regularly went out on schemes. Sometimes for a change we'd take over the driving in turn, something I enjoyed. Joe used to refer to us as 'my demon drivers'. We would also fire the guns, which had then to be cleaned as soon as we returned to camp.

It was a gunner's job to T and A (test and adjust) the sights. On the end of the gun barrel were four small grooves, like points north, south, east and west. A length of cotton was stuck in each groove with a bit of grease, to make a cross at the end of the barrel. The gun was elevated or lowered until the cross was settled on something estimated at 1,000 yards away.

Then the gunner looked through his periscope, inside which were markings in yards. If the 1,000 yard mark was adjusted to be on the same object as the cross on the gun barrel, then in theory the gun fired at something 1,000 yards away would score a direct hit. It didn't always work like that in practice, but in general it was a useful exercise.

Now that we were settled, at least for a while, the rest of the regiment moved up, and Ronnie in B Squadron was only about five miles away. I got a lift over to see him, and then he later brought me back in his squadron office truck. He came over a few times while we were there, and it was great to see each other again. On these occasions we always played cards.

So the weeks passed....

One day the news came that we were going to be equipped with American Grant tanks. Someone gave us a lecture on them. Then a dozen men, including Jim and myself and also a few of the officers, were sent back to Fort Capuzzo about seventy-five miles away on the Libyan/Egyptian border to collect them.

My diary notes that before we left we 'scraped up all the rations we had left and managed to have some tea with no sugar, and bully beef, and a few biscuits, and found a jar of Marmite, a relic of Captain Patchett'.

We left in a pick-up truck and arrived at a camp near Capuzzo. The tanks hadn't arrived yet and I noted in my diary: 'Slept in a tent last night.'

Fort Capuzzo is in the desert about eight or nine miles due south of a small town called Bardia, which is on a spur of land on top of cliffs overlooking the sea. The Grants still hadn't arrived, so we went off to Bardia, climbed down a path in the cliffs and went swimming in the beautiful warm blue sea.

Seven Grants arrived next day, and they were the biggest tanks we'd seen (apart from German ones). They took a crew of six. The 75 mm gun was much the most powerful I had handled. We spent five days being instructed on the Grants, going off every day to swim in the sea afterwards at Bardia. It was like being on holiday.

Then it was time to take the tanks back to the Regiment. Shortly after, our squadron was to have all its tanks replaced by Grants while the other squadrons were left with Crusaders and Stuarts. We felt lucky to be equipped with these superior vehicles.

We withdrew several miles to the west, and put in a lot of practice with our new 75 mm guns. I have in my diary that on 11 May, when we were on the ranges, Lieutenant General Sir Willoughby Norrie, who was in charge of two armoured divisions (one of which was ours), came and spoke to all our crew. He asked me if I liked the 75 mm and understood it. My answer was 'Yes'. Our troop (three tanks) fired best of all. I took only three shots to knock down a target at 1,200 yards.

Practice in driving and shooting went on, but soon the practising was to give way to the real thing.