The Battle for Tanngouche Part One

It was going to be a tough assignment. Grenades and bandoleers were issued. Anglican and Roman Catholic padres chatted to as many chaps as possible. The C of E padre was the Rev. Radice and the R.C. one was Rev. Father John Hayes. In some cases a letter would be given to the padre… “Just in case. You know.” A short prayer service with a group. Deeply religious, impressive without church, chapel, presbytery or vicarage.
Card schools, telling yarns, banter, laughing at jokes you had heard many times before. The jar of rum. Usually issued to keep you warm during the bitter cold nights, now unrationed. Some took advantage of the concession. Some preferred the usual swig. Mealtime, we enjoy our tin of steak and kidney pudding, tea in our tin cup and two peaches doled out from a 7lb tin packed in California. The Lord knows when we will have our next hot meal. Time to move off to the start line.
Dusk gave way to nightfall, as we cam in sight of Tanngouche. Outlined against the night sky, it towered above us. A black menacing, domineering natural monstrosity, now according to Army Intelligence, a heavily fortified enemy stronghold. Zero hour, midnight; the royal Artillery release their light and heavy guns at the designated targets. As the shells cascade on their targets and the barrage creeps up the mountainous objective, Captain Blake Duddington leads ‘D’ Company forward.
Unlike, Mahdi, the previous hill position we had captured, Tanngouche, had a steeper gradient and its strata was more rock than soil. Within a short time one of our advance platoons’ overran a forward German position. Its occupants had kept under cover while the shells from our artillery were dropping around them. The prisoners were quickly hustled back to our lines for interrogation.
Suddenly flares from the enemy illuminated the whole mountainside. Our lads could now be seen as shadowy figures going forward. Coinciding with the light from the flares the Germans opened fire with a fusillade of light and heavy machine gun and mortar fire. As usual the machine gun fire contained tracer bullets. It soon became evident that there were more machine guns firing at us than we had ever encountered before. As the night wore on the concentration of Bosch firepower became intensified. Despite the heavy barrage from our divisional artillery, the Germans had successfully combined the natural obstacles of Tanngouche with their military ingenuity and erected a formidable defensive barrier.
As one of the four stretcher-bearers, we were called upon to evacuate many wounded comrades. On this occasion we did not have to carry the wounded very far. The Regimental Aid Post at the foot of the mountain was a little forward of the battle start line. The ferocity of enemy fire did not lessen. The enemy artillery that had been silent was now targeting us on our flanks. Obviously during the battle they had become aware the proximity of the fighting some of their shells may have hit their troops. Dawn was breaking. The battle was still raging. If Mahdi was our ‘Baptism of Fire’, Tanngouche was ‘Hell on Earth’.
We were nailed down. Our only cover was in the shell holes left by our gunners or behind rocky crags. Some of our lads had been killed, many wounded. It was a frightening time. I admit I was scared. Would we ever be able to retrieve this situation? You kept telling yourself “Don’t panic.” Thankfully what remained of ‘D’ Company was within earshot of each other. More precisely, because of the roar of shellfire and constant rat-a-tat of Spandau machine guns; shouting distance of each other. During this terrified situation I said many a silent prayer. Even invoked the aid of my Dad who had died many years ago. He had always looked after me. I believed he was in heaven. Would he, could he obtain assistance for me now?
Unknown to me during this time, Captain Duddington had been in radio communication with the C.O. Colonel Neville Grazebrook. Duddington explained our plight and gave an appraisal of the position. Grazebrook gave the order for us to withdraw before final daybreak. Strangely, so it seemed low cloud descended over Tanngouche as what remained of our company returned to our lines. That cloud was the most effective smoke screen I ever experienced.
In the security of a hollow we relaxed in a fashion. It was Good Friday. Was it blasphemous of me to think last night had been our scourging? With forty of our company dead. A larger number wounded, we were now joined with ‘B’ Company who had also been badly mauled. Was this an indication we were going into action again before reinforcements arrived? One of our draft, a lad named Ward had been taken prisoner. The London Irish had been repulsed with heavy losses at Hideous. On Longstop the West Kents were holding their own. Of the three sides of the triangle, we were now holding their own. Of the three sides of the triangle we were now in a delicate position. The Germans in front of us on Tanngouche and behind us in Hideous. Sandwiched between them, a depleted Irish Brigade. Headquarters made the decision. Prepare for another attack on Tanngouche.
While our future was being planned word came through that one of our lads, Callister, was lying wounded on Tanngouche. Ted Lewis and I decided to go and bring him in. The lad who gave us the message gave us a rough idea where Callister was. With our stretcher and medical bag with its printed Red Cross visible and on the arm of the battledress a white brassard with the letters, SB in red, Ted and I set back up the rocky slope.
We found ‘Callie’. Though in pain and feeling the cold he was pleased to see us. I offered him a cigarette from the tin I carried in my medical bag. We applied field dressings to the wound in his stomach. While doing so we heard footsteps running towards us. Now two German soldiers were standing over us. One was taller than the other. The smaller guy carried a schmizer automatic sub-machine gun. The taller fellow had a rifle. They spoke no English. We spoke no Deutsche. In a case like this action speaks louder than words. The little squirt’s menacing looks and the way he gestured with his weapon was understandable in any language. He wanted to take all three of us prisoners.
I pointed to the Red Cross on our bags, although I never learnt French in St. Sylvesters’, said at the same time, “Crosse Rouge.” Hi reply in the first German I ever understood was “Nein Nein!” More aggressively he moved his carbine for us to go to the German line. I beckoned to both of them that we were unarmed. The tall fellow had been an observer in all this. To Ted, “I said take your time with that dressing.”
Once again I plucked the tin of cigarettes from the bag. I offered the Germans one. The tall fellow took a ‘Capstan’. His comrade declined with a harsh, “Nein”. From my tunic pocket I pulled out some photographs of my mother, sisters and Mary’s young daughter, Monica. I showed them to the big fellow. Between puffs of cigarette, he produced photographs of his family. I gave him the ‘thumbs up’ sign and a smile. Pointing to Josie and Monica’s photo he indicated if they were my wife and daughter. Raising my hands he saw I did not wear a ring. “Nein”, I said and he saw the joke.
By now his ‘oppo’ was getting impatient. His face displayed an attitude of hate and arrogance. My mind told me this guy was a product of the Nazi Youth Movement. An indoctrinated Nazi. Ted Lewis whispered “can’t delay any longer.” Poor, Callister looked at us as if to say, “For God’s sake get me back.”
It was my last effort. I produced the cellophane wallet, which indicted that we ‘had the protection of the Geneva Convention.’ The reply was swift and curt, “Fini Geneva Convention.” In anger he beckoned to both of us to put ‘Calli’ on the stretcher and take him up the mountain. All this was taking place in ‘no mans land’. About fifty yards from our forward outpost and a hundred yards from the enemy forward position.
A voice within me whispered, “Don’t panic Ned.” Only my family and personal friends called me Ned. The last time it was spoken freely was on the ‘Duchess of Redmond’ with John McInerny and Johnie ‘winks’ when we had the singsong in the crew’s quarters. Inspiration, call what you will I called in the loudest voice possible, “They're gonna take us prisoner.” Would someone in ‘D’ Company get the message?
A single rifle shot rang out! The little Nazi howled in agony. He had been hit in the upper part of his left arm. While he held on to his sub-machine gun, I performed the most elaborate field dressing bandaging his wound. I tied the tapes so that his arm was completely immobilised. He made a gesture for a cigarette. I gave him one and handed a few extras to the ‘nice’ fellow. He took the carbine from his fellow countryman and assisted him back to his unit. Ted and I carried Callister safely back to out Regimental Aid post and received congratulations from our M.O. Captain Wilson. I never learnt who fired that shot. Who ever it was rescued me from being a P.O.W., as my Dad’s twin brother was in WW1.
The first assault on Tanngouche cost our Company forty killed or wounded. We did not know the number of enemy casualties. We did capture some rifles and machine guns and take 16 prisoners. It ended with a strategic withdrawal and an assurance, “If you fight and get away. You live to fight another day.” And we would.

Continued.....
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