Ack ack, beer beer


Canberra Man

I did my national service in the Royal Artillery, 3.7 ack ack. We were at practice camp at Bude in Cornwall. One day we (four batteries) banging away at the drogue towed by a Miles Master (That dates me!) When on our gun, instead of a bang, it went 'click', a misfire. The officer in charge roared out something to the effect of. "Number one gun misfire, all crews take cover, number one crew stand fast. He then looked at me and bellowed "Gun number three, safety range." I went up to the platform, the shell base was checked, the detonator was dented,- dud cap. I took the shell off the rack and started to trot (Get it over with) His nibs had other ideas. "Walk you might jar it" That made sense, so I walked. Got to the safety pit, gently laid the shell down. three sand bags on top, the I ran!!

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