Montgomery had taken command of 8th Army on 7 August, and things were changing.
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Wednesday 19th August . Most of our Base Wallahs have been roped in as reinforcements, to our great satisfaction. We’ve heard that Churchill has been in Cairo and sacked six generals including Auchinleck. Freyburg is now at 13 Corp and Inglis is OC commanding New Zealand Division. We are told that Shepheard’s Hotel and the Gezira Club (for officers only) have been made out of bounds. Officers have been spending too much time there.
Freyburg had commanded New Zealand Division until his promotion to a Corp commander. Auchinleck was Commander-in-Chief Middle East Command, and had taken over direct command of 8th Army until he was replaced by Montgomery.
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Cliff wrote later:
Things changed rapidly from then on. Kippenberger (OC 5th Brigade) described this period as the most trying time the New Zealand Division ever experienced.
“Summer was at its height and flies at their worst. Strengths were so low that there was little rest for anyone. We were depressed and cynical. The men’s faces were gaunter and more strained each week and there were many cases of jaundice.”
Cliff agreed with that summation but wanted dysentery added to the list of woes. He quoted from Kippenberger’s message read to all ranks of 5 Bde on 17 August:
We are facing a severe test. For the next few weeks we will be on the defensive and it is up to the enemy to test us to the limit. These few weeks are critical. We hold an exposed, vital position of the line. Like the South Africans, Indians and British we are burning our boats by sending our transport many miles away, and it is our duty to stand and fight where we are. We will be subject to severe dive bombing, artillery, tanks and infantry. There must be no question of surrendering if there is a breakthrough of our defences. Every post must fight to the last irrespective of the fate of its neighbours.”
Kippenberger followed this with specific instructions for infantry, machine gun, anti-tank, mortar and field gun units, as well as to the RAPs (regimental aid posts) and ambulances. “Dumps of food, water and ammunition will be made in each company area and will be well dispersed.”
Regarding the infantry, Cliff quoted Kippenberger again:
“Individual trenches will be dug to the depth of 5 feet without a parapet, so men will be protected against anything except a direct hit, and a tank can run over him without damage. Each soldier must fight until he has no means of fighting left. Small arms fire to be concentrated on enemy infantry, and sticky bombs to be used on enemy tanks passing close enough, along with Hawkins grenades.”
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Cliff wrote in the 1990s:
No more capitulations. It is true to say that we all welcomed the change. We were all thoroughly fed up and wanted to see an end to it. The Divisional area was completely surrounded by minefields and we were prepared to defend against any direction, and on our own. Each battalion was its own fortress.
Monday 24 August. Nothing of interest has happened since Wednesday. Life here is very tiring and monotonous. Last two days have been exceptionally hot, and flies are worse than ever. Some letters arrive. Our bombers give the enemy a spot of hell each night, as does artillery. New Tommy non-commissioned officers are attached to our units to learn about desert warfare. Many of them were at Dunkirk.
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About this time I decided to have a feed of “bunghole” (cheese) in an endeavour to retain some nourishment in my body, which is becoming progressively weaker from the dysentery — I would fry up some cheese. There was enough room between the dug-in Carrier and the heaped up dirt surrounding it for me to set up my Primus. With the Primus on full flame and a Dixie full of cheese on top of it I looked forward to the first decent meal I’d had for some time. Barney was to share it with me. Then all hell broke loose. Jerry had decided it was our turn for a roasting. Shells exploded thick and fast all round. My trench would provide better protection but to hell with it. I wanted that cooked cheese badly and I would stay. I doubted the wisdom of this when a shell exploded about 4 feet away on the spoil just above my head. It showered me, the cheese and the Primus with dirt. Then, thank God, the shelling stopped. We enjoyed the cheese.
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Sunday 30 August. On Friday night a Junkers 88 was shot down and crashed in our company lines. It was a mass of flames as it passed over me at the height of about 50 feet (15m). We are now back together with 25 Battalion. Arrived here on the 27th. Last night Ray and our Carrier driver went on patrol as a mobile observation post with the 11 set. The reception was punk. I stayed and manned the set. They had a quiet night. 18 and 25 Battalions are putting on a show tonight and right now Jerry is plastering us with heavy stuff in retaliation.
It’s now 10:30 pm and I’m on listening watch. A terrific rattle of gunfire, and the air full of whistling shells, some exploding rather close for comfort.
Monday 31 August. Went off the air at midnight last night. Artillery exchange is still vigorous now at 9 am, and they’ve been at it all night. There will be plenty of Jerry spotter planes over, and our antiaircraft guns have been busy. Some are overhead now. Our Vickers guns are busy forward. The Italians counter-attacked last night and got up as far as our wire but were shot up. Jerry seems to be concentrating his gun fire south of us now, and now and again we receive our share. Jerry occupied Point 104 to the south of us last night. Rommel’s attack has begun.
We lost two No. 18 radio transmitters last night and two Signals personnel are missing. 20 Jerry tanks who tried to penetrate our lines were shot up and 30 prisoners taken, including one paratrooper.
Tuesday 1 September 1942. Much activity about midday. Shelling in this area during the morning and intense air activity. We watched 40 Stukas and planes pass over at regular intervals.
German tanks have been allowed to penetrate our left flank and been engaged by our artillery, bombers and some tanks. By lunchtime today 55 German tanks had been destroyed. They were previously estimated to have 150. Jerry was expected to make this move and we have trapped him. His forces are now East to South East, South and West of us.
25 Battalion occupies the southern extremity of our defences and we are now more than a little exposed. Gerry’s observation posts occupy higher ground and they can almost see us change our minds. On Monday our AA brought down nine planes in the central sector.
I have just seen two planes shot down by our Bofors guns, a grand sight. One more went down south of here, making a score of three Junkers 88s. Three pilots bailed out of the plane that crashed at 6 Brigade, but one’s chute didn’t open. Persistent shellfire all day covering this area but no damage here. Approximately 100 tanks destroyed up to midnight last night, mostly by artillery fire. Jerry had plans to break through our Southern defences and then swing North to cut off our forces. Montgomery had anticipated the move and Jerry ran into a well established gun line.
Thursday 3 September 1942. Laid remote control line to adjutant’s dugout about 60 yards away, and put in a metallic telephone circuit to Battalion’s exchange. Buried the lines. Test at 6 pm not satisfactory, probably due to our ground aerial. Shellfire covering a large area including ours, mostly on our ridge. Some landed not far away and one caught me in the nude having my daily (?) wash down. I flattened to the ground smartly to the great amusement of others as they watched from slit trenches.
Slit trenches provide great protection. No tears so far, luckily, although one chap was badly wounded a fortnight ago. Jerry, our quartermaster, stopped a bit of shrapnel that made sitting uncomfortable. He was saved by a rear pocket stuffed with toilet paper. Incidentally, toilet paper is most noticeable for its absence. I use letters from home. God knows how men manage without letters. I’ve used sand on occasions. Air combat overhead but I see no planes crash. Jerry fighters can be seen hitting the breeze for home at a height we call “sandblasting”.
10:45 pm. I’m on listening watch, and fireworks are expected, provided by ourselves for Jerry’s entertainment. — Hello, Jerry has started playing! Four heavy shells too handy for good living. Soon there’ll be a barrage going both ways. Reception tonight, when we’re not being jammed, is perfect.
11:30 pm and the show is under way. The companies are out and the air is alive with screaming ricochets. Listening to the Adjutant sending a message I distinctly heard a bullet whistle past his microphone. Running to schedule so far. Shells landing close.
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Cliff wrote to Dorothy saying he hoped the flies and the dysentery were blighting the Germans as much as him.
It’s going to cost Jerry a terrific price if he wants to shift us from here, as he is expected to try to do shortly. Everyone is cheerful even though the conditions are very trying. Letters help a hell of a lot, and I’ve had three from you.
I’ve been giving some thought to the housing problem in New Zealand, and what sort of house we would like to live in.
I’ve realised how silly we are to spend so much money on what we’ve proved here to be unnecessary. What’s wrong with a good hole? Over here we’ve found them to be excellent dwelling places, and they cost only at the most a day’s hard work. At home we spend years paying for a house, or we rent one for a staggering amount per week. We could make an exceptionally good hole in a day, one say about 10 foot (3m) square and 7 foot (2m) deep. Quite roomy with nice steps running down from the doorway, and the only outlay a canvas cover for the roof — or if we wanted to be extravagant, a few sheets of iron. For a garage just another hole. The walls will be guaranteed sound proof, wind proof too.
At night, when it’s moonlight, how romantic it would be to be remove the canvas and watch the moon. For visitors, or an addition to the family, just dig another hole. If we got sick of that house we could soon dig another one.
We could have a permanent residence right on the seashore, dug in the sand, and on hot days we could imagine we’re here in Egypt.
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Friday 4 September 1942. German bombers were active from the small hours. Flares would light up the whole neighbourhood, with bombs dropping here and there. Strangely it was at these times that I would really feel afraid. Certainly much more than usual. Perhaps it was because there was nothing to occupy myself with, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it except hope for the best.
Elsewhere he wrote:
Thank God the face-to-face killing of men was not part of my job, although for sure what I’ve been doing has caused the death of many. Could I do that? I will never know. Perhaps if necessary I could? I pity the poor bloody infantry.