蜜芽传媒

Letter to Stan (Ernie鈥檚 Brother)

It was following the Christmas Festivities that a section of the Field Ambulance, eight men and myself, set out to experience the most hectic three days of our lives.

An area of ground 鈥淭he Sittard Triangle鈥� had to be cleared. It was bounded on the West by the River Meuse and the canal North South, and in the South by smaller canals and many dykes as well and well laid out minefields. On the face of it a hopeless task.

We were told to accompany the D.L.I. into a direct frontal attack across numerous canals to capture Dieteren. Our task was to collect and hold casualties since evacuation was out of the question for two or three days, there being only one axis forward until the main road Sittard to Susterem was cleared.

We were all heavily laden with assault packs each weighing 80 pounds in addition 36 blankets 6 stretchers and eight bottles of Plasma, plus other incidentals. It was Winter in its rawest form, solid ice made movement by transport a hard and tricky business, and bad fog resulted in a postponement for twelve hours.

Reveille at 3am what a thought. The attack was made between two smoke screens and it soon became apparent to Jerry that something was happening for he wasn鈥檛 long answering with mortar and 鈥渆ighty eights鈥�.

The first obstacle a dyke was easily overcome in spite of our heavy loads but the second one another dyke appeared rather awe inspiring as the ladder to be used for scaling the banks had broken and one needed the skill of Blondin to walk the plank. Once over we breathed a sigh of relief, still faced with half a mile through Fog and Snow across open country thick with mines and incidentally within 80 yards of Jerrys forward section.

We collected our first causality a German and carried him forward to a Farmhouse our home for the next three days. Business seemed slack until 20.00 hours, Jerry counter attacked on our left to within a hundred yards of our position. Fortunately ha failed and left behind many casualties for us. His mortar fire was incessant, our building being hit three times, luckily harming neither personnel or casualties bedded down in the straw against intense cold.

Repeated outing during the night increased our numbers who after being treated and fed, left us with a serious food situation, further supplies being unlikely. We were all kept busy thawing snow for water to make tea, collecting fuel for the stove we had acquired, redressing the casualties some demanding constant attention and handling prisoners who we use as stretcher bearers.

The morning bought no slackening in the battle and for that day 31 hungry mouths shared one loaf of bread and a tin of sausages. Things looked brighter when an ambulance car arrived, but no sooner had the driver entered than it received a direct hit.

A third sleepless night and then three ambulance cars arrived. While we were loading up however the roof of the barn caught fire and in a few minutes the whole place was ablaze. Fortunately all the remaining casualties were moved to safety.

Our job was done officially the most difficult task Medical Service had been called upon to undertake. We were three days behind with our rum issue however, and that to us was the more important point.

From the 131 Field Ambulance Magazine:-

TEA TALE

The art of making a 鈥淩ich and Rare Brew鈥� is dying fast, but the ancient ritual of its preparation will stay with me forever if only as a memory.

Anyone who is fortunate enough to have 7lbs of sugar, 2lbs of tea and lashings of tinned milk, can even now provide a sample of that liquid of life if the weather permits.

The first condition is an empty stomach and the mouth should be preferably full of sand, and just only enough for the tongue to stick to the palate. The sun must be burning the pants of you, and if at the same time you are able to stand in front of a warm oven then you have reached the pitch when 鈥淐hai is Chai鈥� and men are mad for it.

The brew can (a potato tin is best) should be lightly sprinkled with sand and the brown lining must on no account be removed. Fill to capacity with water (a little salt may or may not be added) and place on a roaring primus, but for God鈥檚 sake don鈥檛 break the pricker in the nipple. Whilst the water is heating the ingredients plus a little more use fresh milk). Bring the water to the boil and shovel the tea into the can until someone knocks your arm up. Lower the flame of the primus and simmer until the liquid is rich black. Pour the fuming liquid into the mugs and stir with a strong spoon until it will stand unsupported in the centre.

sand should be laid out in readiness. The first quarter of each mug is now filled with sugar and up to the halfway mark with milk (never A Tough Assignment

The brew is now up!

AFRICA

The desert was and is a barren land,
Mile upon mile of nothing but sand,
The heat of the City with flies and torment,
And showed signs of Battle wherever we went.

Minefields everywhere a danger to all,
Schus, Tellers, coffins a few names I recall,
All equally deadly, killers where they,
To be avoided at all costs everyway.

Other nasty things lived in this land, like scorpions and spiders,
I don鈥檛 know which was worst Scorpions or those great 鈥淗airy Riders鈥�,
Big hairy brutes and not scared of a thing,
Not even afraid of the Scorpions fatal sting.

Another noxious brute the Dung Beetle to be polite,
Whose favorite pastime was pedalling balls of s***,
There within it laid its eggs, filthy stinking beast,
Of all God鈥檚 creatures those we like least.

When tucked up in your blankets there comes an awful smell,
You鈥檝e had a visit from a s*** beetle who bought his bombshell,
Only one solution that鈥檚 to move to another site,
And that was most annoying, in the middle of the night.

We always look for Chameleons funny creatures were they,
Their eyes just sort of swiveled in a most peculiar way,
鈥楾is said that they change colour but, reflect it they do,
We鈥檝e put them on all sorts of things, and found it was true.

I鈥檝e never seen so many flies they buzzed about all day,
Millions of the flying pests, in aerial display,
No matter how you swatted not a moment鈥檚 rest,
鈥楾was only when the sun went down that we got rid of the pest.

After dark the mosquito鈥檚 descended with their vicious sting in their nose,
So at dusk we changed to long trousers, standing orders were those,
Thou shalt not be seen in shorts after dusk that was clearly stated,
And if you were, then you were most strongly berated.

For who wanted a bout of Malaria, though it was common enough,
Despite daily doses of Meppeicrin that yellow hideous stuff,
This cover up was the order and keep those mos鈥檌es at bay,
Shorts you may wear at sun up but not at the end of the day.

Must say a few words about rations the food was really not good,
Bully Beef, McColochies and biscuits do with that what you could,
Soya links that were called sausages a misnomer that was true,
Rice Pudding and Prunes agh! That was our food in the Blue.

Then there was the scruffy old Arab or 鈥淲og鈥� as he was known,
Who wandered into the camp crying egg is for Chai in a monotonous tone,
To the Wog鈥檚 there was nothing like Chai 鈥榯was the nectar of God鈥檚,
We had the eggs, they had their Chai, but it had been used then dried, poor sods.

The relationship between man and the desert is hard to understand,
Lord knows why people choose to live in that forsaken land,
The odd well here and the odd well there hardly a tree to see,
The Wog鈥檚 can have their country I know where I鈥檇 rather be.

by Ernest Richard Cooper

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