'Stretcher-bearers': (14) The Tunnel

The Tunnel

Returning to our relay posts we lost our way in the darkness, but eventually arrived there - a small farmhouse - about midnight. We tried to sleep, covering ourselves with gas capes.
No more wounded reached us. The barrage was at a comfortable distance.

9.8.43.
At 6 a.m. we reported, as instructed the previous night, to Captain X.., MC, (Military Cross), at no: 2 section's Regimental Aid Post. We found him asleep on a stretcher with no patients. He then explained that a new Regimental Aid Post had moved further up the rails, which had been mined, so we set off gingerly up the track, walking on the sleepers. The Germans, Hermann Goering Panzer Division, used an ingenious machine which bit sections of rail out of the lines. We never saw this machine, but we knew from the gaps in the rails that there would be no trains to hamper our progress.
Less than half a mile up the line the Regimental Aid Post was situated in a red brick building, rather conspicuous.
We were having a long sit-down in the straw by the back wall of the house, when the Germans sent over a barrage of wailing mortars, which seemed to burst in mid-air. These were quite close, so we huddled together and hoped for the best.
(The incident was reported in Battleaxe Weekly over a year later. "At Bronte the MDS (of 11th Field. Ambulance.) was subject to considerable attention from two 'Moaning Minnies' less than a mile away.")
(Extract from "From Algiers to Austria ", page 72.
"It was here and now that the Division made its first acquaintance with the German multiple mortar, the nebelwerfer. As the men got to know it better they learned how inaccurate it was, but at first its hideous whine was unnerving, and it did enough damage to make the whine seem a ghoulish threat.")
After about two dozen of these mortars matters returned to normal. Section 2 made tea, but there was not enough for us. However, we found on the line a few broken army biscuits.
Captain X was becoming concerned because there were too many people about, and the post was supposed to be under enemy observation. He ordered us to march farther up the line to make contact with L--- (Lancashire Fusiliers) brigade."
We set out with misgivings, because the railway line was too exposed and the extent of British occupation unknown.
We soon arrived at a tunnel about 80 yards long, above the contested town of B---t- (Bronte). This was packed to capacity with a swarming mass of civilians, some hungry, some wounded, others sick. The tunnel stank .
It is utterly impossible to describe adequately the plight, abject misery and terror of these citizens huddled deep in this tunnel. They had experienced being shelled by both sides, their streets mined and strewn with booby traps.
As our party pressed through the crowd, George Potter, whose ambition is to become a C. of E. minister, generously cursed the Germans for causing so much misery, yet both sides had reduced Bronte to ruins.
At last we reached the far side of the tunnel, and came in full sight of the town below us on the left. We were without any cover, but decided to press on, prompted more by pangs of hunger than by the dictates of reason.
About 300 yards down the track we met Major J ., Lance Corporal Crump and Jos Thomas. The major explained that he was lost and completely worn out. He certainly looked it.
We were cut short in our parleying when a hail of bullets droned past our heads and we hurried for what cover the bank could afford.
Finally the major decided to take Thomas with him to find the Ls and to send Cpl Crump, Crockford and me back to Stretcher Ssection 2. We pushed our way back though the tunnel again, marched the half mile to section 2 and were promptly sent back to the tunnel by Capt. X who was still worried about the conspicuous nature of his station
He could not give us any breakfast and did not want us near his new Regimental Aid Post, so we returned along the rails to the tunnel again and were soon among the moaning crowd. Here we were led to a dark recess about half way through the tunnel where a crowd was surging round a woman with a white bundle. In it was a child, her arm blown off. She was about four years old.
L/Cpl Crump and I set off once more to ask if Capt. X could deal with this child and some others. He was most reluctant to receive anyone and could give us no stretcher, but finally it was agreed to carry the child to him. The corporal did so and the stump of the arm was tidied. The child died, however, shortly afterwards.
As usual, the Germans were blamed for this atrocity, but we had already learnt that the child had been wounded nearly two days before and had obviously been a victim of the attack upon the town. Which side was responsible was impossible to tell.
A girl of 17 was said to be suffering from typhoid, but could not be moved, since Capt.X firmly refused to take any more civilians .
A middle-aged woman now appeared . She was obviously taking control and could speak French. She explained that the relatives of the girl with typhoid would not take her to the civilian hospital in the town, because it was being shelled and might be out of action. At the same time I told her that Capt. X would not take the girl, but that we would try to think out some solution
We left the tunnel for fresh air and managed to scrounge from an infantryman two packets of army biscuits. We ate two biscuits each ourselves and then took some to the girl, also some water, and tried to clear the crowd from her, an impossible task.
As we edged our way through the crowd hands were held out to us.
Meanwhile the barrage opened again and the whining mortars came over. The panic increased and an old woman in front of me started shaking in every limb. Prayers, groans, sighs and terror.
I felt my hand being tugged and was shown a boy of about seven who was suffering from some kind of fever. I spent time looking for a wound in the half-light, but he indicated that he had none, so we edged him down nearer the fresh air.
The atmosphere in the tunnel was stifling and foul. Flies were settling everywhere.
The Crock (Crockford) and I ran out of biscuits and the few almonds we had picked from trees that morning .
We moved out of the tunnel and sat down by a bank. The mortars and shells had slackened, so we propped ourselves against the bank and tried not to think how hungry we were becoming.
A strange sight passed before our eyes, roughly a dozen German prisoners being taken back by two soldiers, one at the front, the other at the back, armed only with Red Crosses.
I looked at my watch which pointed to only 10.5. I shook it and asked the Crock if his tallied. It did., We had both thought it was about 2 p.m.
Suddenly came a volley of characteristically distant thumps. We waited in suspense and two seconds later heard the now familiar slow-motion wailing mortars coming over. They exploded loudly in the town, one completely obscuring in a ball of smoke the Red Cross of the civilian hospital. Almost simultaneously we heard the ping of shrapnel landing in front of us.
We decided to move - quickly - and found a small trench dug in the banking below the line. Here we came across an Italian, already in full possession, cooking a chicken in a pot. Our hopes of food were raised and the Crock signed to him, and, pointing to the chicken, said "A manger?"
The Italian was now making off with the chicken, but stopped, set down his pot, cut off a part, dropped it on the ground, picked it up again, blew on it to clean it , handed it to me and made off hastily
"You have first bite" said the Crock.
I looked at it closely ' Sorry," I said.
The Crock looked amazed and then saw what had happened. The Italian had given us the chicken's head, beak and comb complete. We could not face it, even in our present state of hunger, and threw it away.
At about 1.30 news came through that the Lance Corporal had managed to beg some food. We returned to the entrance of the tunnel to be greeted by an amazing, agreeable sight. Apparently, one of the mules taking up food to the line had been overloaded and refused to walk farther. At all events, the muleteer entrusted to the five of us a whole composite ration box that could have fed about 50 men. From this we were able to brew tea and prepare a meal for the pack team.
It did not take us long. We took tea and some stew to the sick children and a few more in the tunnel.
All the morning the dead body of an Ls--- sergeant had lain at the entrance to the tunnel. Now at last a chaplain arrived and we helped to bury the man during a lull.
It was now about 3 p.m. and we returned to the tunnel to find that morale was strengthening. There was a good deal of handshaking and, when we started distributing biscuits, children were held up to be kissed.
The "duchess" - I used this name for the middle-aged French speaking woman who appeared to have taken over supreme command - organised a team to fetch water. They had to go to a rather exposed well. We had been there for water several times in the morning and now the Italians were beginning to fetch their own.
We decided to look upon the lighter side of the situation because our Italian patients in the tunnel were reasonably comfortable and something had to be done to remove the terror imprinted on the faces of the women.
We distributed chocolate and sweets from the ration box and, although mortars/shells were once again dropping literally outside both ends of the tunnel, those inside began to settle down.
The Crock had a bright idea. He sat up on an improvised stone baffle wall, built hastily to give cover to those inside the tunnel, with a small tabby cat he had found and, standing it up on its hind legs, pretended to strum it like a banjo, to the great amusement of the children and the bewilderment of the kitten.
I was endeavouring to give some news to the Duchess and the RC priest when a weeping woman came up to explain that her "marito" and "bambino" had left for water some time ago and had not returned.
I had to fetch a cup of tea for the girl with typhoid, so went out to have a look, but had no sooner poured out the tea than five shells came over and I dropped flat, keeping the tea intact.
The bambino had not returned when I came back, but we managed to reassure the woman that the shelling was not near the well. Eventually the little boy returned and the Duchess again asked us about evacuating the sick. Our corporal said that nothing could be done.
I went up to the new Regimental Aid Post, but as Capt. X and his colleagues still could not accommodate them, asked if the civilian hospital was definitely open and, being told that it was, suggested to the Duchess that some Italians should volunteer to remove the child, small boy and girl to that hospital. However, the Duchess explained that the girl's two relatives should be the first to volunteer to remove her, but would not do so.
I then asked the priest and his friend, but they both refused, so the Duchess went off down the tunnel in search of a squad. Meanwhile an optimistic client of about 30 asked me to go up to the Regimental Aid Post for some glycerine for his sore lips. He drew a very large blank here.
The Duchess returned to say that they had decided to leave the evacuation of patients until the next day, so, as it was now growing dark, we made black-out arrangements with the help of the priest, and then went through the tunnel to explain them.
In the middle of this I was called for and told that we were to make our way to the Main Dressing Station run by H.Q.
Before leaving we gave the Duchess a field dressing, 5 tins of Irish stew, biscuits, margarine and a tin of cheese. Then, amid many farewells, we took our leave of the tunnel.
We had to descend to the main road which had been shelled and then follow it back to the Main Dressing Station.
At a good run we dashed off the railway line and down the hill, taking advantage of a lull in the barrage. Then, in the darkness, we hurried up the road pock-marked with craters, to arrive, all too suddenly upon the Main Dressing Station, well within mortar range.
We were given tea and stew in a farmhouse which was being used as a patients' cook-house. and then we tried to find sleeping quarters. It was now pitch black and we found a place which seemed suitable, until one of us came across a board marked "Patients' Latrine." Our barrage was now going strong again.
We sank down under a tree and forgot the war in sleep. It had been the longest day in my life.

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