Raid on Dieppe (Aftermath)
Sunday morning. Lie-in or go for a ride? No contest. On the trails rather earlier than usual, and so slightly confused because of the unusual angle of the sun. The horse riders out en masse, had a strangely companionable chat with one as I rode alongside, two wheels under me and four legs under her.
Then it was four wheels under me and a trip to teatagg's. Weather eye's on the sky, we'd figured today had to be the day and damn the countryside congestion. So we rendezvoused, loaded up, and headed west. Collected reinforcements en passant, rhandolph a welcome addition to the troop movement. Quick reconnoitre of Devil's Dyke, a colourful melee of paragliders but a huge crowd so we looped it once and continued west. Drove past Edburton Hill, scene of a personal victory, then I realised my mapreading was so pants we'd completely missed our second objective, the Jack and Jill windmills. Quick discussion, leave them for another time, so on to Bramber. Random stop at the ruined castle, teatagg grabbed his camera and dived into a nearby graveyard. rhandolph and I climbed the hill to the ruins, and agreed it must have been a hell of a place once upon a time (while trying not to appear winded by running up the central mound to play King of the Castle). The remaining stumps of the outer wall were about 12 feet high, and most people walk up, walk down. Some people climb partway down the wall face, then jump the rest at my jokey comment about being able to leap from there (fortunately, rhandolph bounces well).
Rhandolph inspects the castle remnants
Some spot-on navigation, some boggling at the "Please respect the pheasants" signs, moments later some respecting of said pheasants, and we made the top of Springhead Hill. teatagg and I tried to fit the landscape to the aerial reconnaissance photos, it seemed to make sense so we unloaded the wheelchair off-road assault vehicle from the boot. Just then an electric version motored past, so teatagg took a seat while rhandolph volunteered to be the engine, and we set off up the hill in rather haphazard pursuit. Half way up we swapped roles, somehow rhandolph ended up as the grunt with the backpack, the binoculars, the tripod, the camera case, etc. He still beat us down the side track though, disappearing behind the trees before calling to declare objective reached.
rhandolph assumes the Tank Commander role, while teatagg guards the rear.
Been there before, but this time there were experts with me. teatagg and rhandolph dismissed most possibilities immediately, then debated back and forth based on various minutiae such as flail location, turret offset and driving position (rhandolph pointed out it was always certainly British, because the pedals were still visible and on the right hand side). I was just happy taking pics and sticking my fingers in the bullet holes. Quite scary seeing the neatly drilled holes, bullets gone straight through 3 inches of steel armourplate. And I had to fight the urge to hide in the ditch when a plane lined up on us, straight out of the sun (we'd spotted anti-tank markings on a previous pass).
Steel plate thick as your fist, no match for 40mm cannon fire
Exit wounds. The bullets went clean through three inches of armourplate
Meanwhile, rhandolph produced the appropriate manual, tanks, identification, for the purpose of. teatagg suggested Crusader, I think, but I was pre-occupied looking inside. Four people in there? Cramped. And along with an engine, the main gun, the machine gun, the ammo, the fuel and all. Learnt that the toilet was empty shell casings, the crew would puke in battle, 24 hours in there and I'd be a basket case. Sixty years down the line, we're free to clamber over the wreckage and watch the sun go down. Something to think about.
rhandolph takes the driving seat (and checks the glove compartment for the instruction manual).
But it was getting late, so we rolled back to the carpark, rhandolph went off to check some outbuildings. In his military shirt, muddy boots, and humping the gear he really looked like the light infantry. When he reported back in teatagg and I demanded a sitrep, while keeping a wary eye on the german motorglider turning circles overhead. Then, in the last rays of the setting sun, we watched a huge fire on the distant horizon go out while we realised it was actually a reflection from a very distant building.
A quick scoot down into Amberley, to discover the museum closed, the 'best-kept' secret going to stay secret for a while yet then. The cafe by the river, swans ignoring us as we watched the river flow inland, the tide coming in. And so, having reached the furthermost point of the expedition, we declared victory, turned tail and fled back east. Amberley Castle appeared to the north, apparently a rather upmarket hotel these days. Made a stop at my forward base for refreshments, to check the aerial photos and carpet the floor with maps. More reading of the Good Tankspotters Guide, and the target was definitively identified as a Chuchill. Good work, men! A little bit of Internet research, and we found it should have been part of the raid on Dieppe in 1942, but engine trouble meant the Canadians left it behind for use as target practice.
Ended the day with a final round of troop movements, everyone safely back to their respective base camps. Mission accomplished.