of sand, soil and gravel boiling up from the desert floor with a deafening roar. It made them feel powerful.
‘I can’t imagine any fucker surviving that,’ Jimbo said with satisfaction after a particularly good throw that had blown away a whole strip of the escarpment on which they were training.
‘They do survive, Private,’ Lorrimer corrected him. ‘You’d be amazed at what those Krauts can survive, so don’t get too cocky. You throw a grenade, think it’s blown the target to hell, so stand up feeling good…and you get your balls shot off by the Jerries you thought you’d killed. Take nothing for granted, lad.’
‘Thanks for the encouragement, Sarge. I feel really good now.’
‘NEXT!’ Lorrimer bawled.
Training in demolition, which also took place on the firing range, was given by Sergeant Derek Leak, former Royal Engineer sapper and ammunition technician with the Royal Army Ordnance Corps. A watchful, humourless man who had been burnt and scarred by the many accidents of his profession, he demanded their full attention when he taught them about low explosives, such as gunpowder, and high explosives, such as RDX or PETN, requiring initiators or time fuses and firing caps. Lessons were given not only in the handling of such explosives, but in precisely how they should be placed in a variety of circumstances, such as the blowing up of aircraft, bridges, roads or buildings, as well as the setting of booby-traps.
‘I hate this shit,’ Jimbo complained to his mates as he nervously connected a time fuse to a nonelectric firing cap. ‘It gives me the willies.’
‘Yeah,’ Frankie said sardonically, ‘we can see that by the shaking of your hands.’
‘This stuff is dangerous, lads,’ Jimbo reminded them, trying to steady his hands. ‘One mistake and it’ll blow you to hell and back.’
‘It isn’t that bad,’ Taff said, not handling it himself and therefore able to be more objective. ‘It isn’t really as dangerous as people think…if you handle it properly.’
‘Is that so?’ Neil asked morosely. ‘Have you noticed Leak’s face? He’s got more scars than fucking Frankenstein – and they all came from accidental explosions.’
‘And he’s a former sapper,’ Jimbo said. ‘An explosives specialist! So don’t tell me it’s safe.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Jimbo,’ Taff exclaimed, suddenly nervous, ‘keep those bleedin’ hands steady! You almost dropped that bloody stuff then.’
Jimbo managed to insert the fuse into the firing cap, then sat back and smirked. ‘Piece of piss,’ he said. ‘I believe you’re the next to try this, Taff. I just hope you’ve got steady hands.’
As the training continued, with radio, first aid, nocturnal navigation, and enemy vehicle and aircraft recognition added to the growing list of skills to be learned by the men, it became apparent to them all that they were in a combat unit like no other, with no distinction in rank and everyone, including the officers, compelled to meet the same exacting standards.
The informality went beyond that. The word ‘boss’, first used, perhaps accidentally, by Sergeant Lorrimer, gradually replaced ‘sir’ and so-called ‘Chinese parliaments’, in which decisions were agreed between officers and other ranks after informal discussion, became commonplace. This in turn increased the mutual trust between the men and greatly enhanced the feasibility of the four-man patrol. Also, as each of the four men had a specialist skill – driver/mechanic, navigator, explosives and first aid – but all had been cross-trained to do the other men’s jobs if required, this made them uniquely interdependent.
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