Ziff under fire

Part 29 - The Bren Gun Carrier

The shelling was aimed at the orchard and continued for what seemed like hours. Every few seconds I heard the terrifying wailing screams just before the earth shaking explosions.

I remembered the poor bloody infantry, sheltering under their little piles of twigs, wondering if the next one would be a direct hit. No wonder they didn't want to get out of their holes.

The explosions finally stopped and cautiously men began climbing out of the slit trenches and there were a few calls of, 'Stretcher.' (The German gunners were likely to lob a few more bombs but the injured need help).

Someone called out, 'Hey, Mel . . .  Don R.' and Mel walked over to a soldier who had just arrived on a motorbike.

'Despatch rider,' Frank explained, 'bringing orders.'

The order sent the carrier crew into frantic activity. I was amazed how fast everybody cleaned up the breakfast stuff and piled into the carrier and astonished there was room for five of us together with radios, field telephone, weapons and compo rations. Mel wanted to leave me behind but I begged a ride hoping to find Beryl and Kozak.

Within minutes we were rattling back toward the front line and a forward observation post. We took a circuitous route to avoid exposed to German gunfire. For most of the way we were on a country road partially shielded by trees but for the last few hundred metres the road crossed a wide open field visible to the German guns. Within seconds the shells were landing behind us.

Leo increased speed until we were racing as fast as the roaring engine would push us. We all squeezed down below the rim of the carrier. The ride was surprisingly smooth but very noisy as the tank tracks hammered against the sides of the carrier.

Leo was driving blind but he raised his eyeballs just above the rim of the carrier just in time to warn us about a large crater which appeared in the road. We were suddenly airborne as our momentum hurled us across the gap.  And then we crashed into the far side of the crater.

Everyone was thrown forward and every bit of loose equipment slammed against us. The engine howled and the tracks skidded as Leo frantically pumped the clutch and geared down until the tracks finally gripped something solid. We all cringed, as the carrier crawled out of the crater, expecting the next shell would be a direct hit. But it never arrived and then we were into the shelter of a tree covered hillock. Mel sat up and slapped the side of the carrier. 'Well done, old beast.'

Leo parked the carrier behind a farm building below the crest of the small hill and out of sight of the German observers. I tagged along as Mel and Tom walked to a low building near the top of the hill. They unreeled a telephone cable which would connect the Forward Observation Post to the big radio on the carrier which would relay target information to the guns.

The Observation Post turned out to be a low brick pigsty. It had shutters along one wall which provided an excellent view of enemy held terrain while providing protection from sniper fire. The drawback was, it was still inhabited. The pigs were small but very excited to have someone inside their pens. They followed Mel around until he slipped and fell into the foul smelling gloop that covered the floor.

When he had stopped laughing, Tom found a barrel of pig food and tossed a few handfuls into the pig troughs. That kept the hungry pigs away while Mel scanned the scenery with his binoculars and made notes on his map board. He was looking for the guns that had been shelling the orchard. He pointed out the remains of the neighbouring farmhouse where I had last seen Kozak.

The German positions were so carefully camouflaged, I couldn't see anything, but Mel was suspicious about the mortar position I had pointed out earlier. He used the telephone to call down a ranging shot. He noted where the shot landed and ordered a correction, 'right one hundred.' The next was on target. He noted the position on his list of targets for future use.

Then sporadic, harassing fire started up around us. Mel checked the phone and cursed. 'Moaning Minnies! They know we're here. They've cut the cable. Tom, would you go splice it, please.'

They exchanged wry grins when I asked if I could go but Mel agreed. I ran back with Tom as he slid the cable through his hand. We quickly found the break and he prepared one end while I found the other end of the cable a few metres away. We were back in the pigsty within a few minutes, just before another shower of mortar bombs arrived.

Mel was already busy sending target information back to our guns as he located the mortar positions again and ordered counter battery fire. That stopped the Germans, but about an hour later they had moved their mortars to another position and began lobbing bombs at us which again cut the cable.

Tom went out alone this time and, when the barrage started up before he returned, we started to get worried. During the next lull I volunteered to go look for him. Mel gave me a spare set of cable strippers and I ran back along the cable looking for Tom. I found him sitting in a hole splicing the cable. 'Would you believe it! Five breaks!' he said. 'Go find the next one.' I was already stripping the insulation from the wire when he ran back to check my work. 'That was the last one,' he said, 'I hope they don't cut it again.

We sprinted back to the pigsty just in before more Moaning Minnies arrived. We found Mel sending the target information back to the guns. He ordered, 'Mike target. Scale 3,' and we watched as 36 shells from 12 guns exploded in the area I had identified. The mortar bombing suddenly stopped. 'Oh, good,' Mel exclaimed. 'I think we must have hit some of their gunners. That'll slow them down.'

He waited a few minutes until he figured the Germans would be reloading and helping their injured and he then ordered, 'Scale 3. Repeat.' Another 36 shells exploded on the same target.