Trafford Publishing: With Wings But Not an Angel

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With Wings But Not an Angel

by Art Newman

186 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0528; ISBN 1-4120-0160-9; US$23.50, C$26.70, EUR19.50, £13.50

Thoughtful, sometimes grim, often humerous look at author's thirty-year span of military service in Germany, Korea, Ireland, Palestine, Malaya and Kenya, with a focus on his experiences in Palestine.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts or Table of Contents catalogue info

About the Book

A thoughtful, sometimes grim, often humerous look at one man's thirty-year span of military service in Germany, Korea, Ireland, Palestine, Malaya and Kenya, with a focus on his experiences in Palestine.
The book details how the author was "press ganged" into the British army, his pride of being a soldier, as well as the heartbreaks and fun times. He also describes his sympathy for the post-1948 Palestine people.

About the Author

Too young to soldier in WWII, Newman made up for it 25 years afterwards. In later life he realised the perversion of world politics and that business really rules the world, not the legally elected governments.

Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

...Nicosea was much fun after the miserable times in Egypt, and we were ready for fun. The week off duty was supposed to be for rest and recreation, we translated that to mean, rest the elbow on the bar top with a full pint in the hand. The recreation element was to diligently chase and possible catch a nice willing lady and jointly doing some physical exercises with her, as we really did need to build up our physical stamina again...
The French sisters' bar provided many hours of resting on the bar, sometimes on the floor on a good night. The routine was that after a few beers we would take a ride in a Greek taxi, the drive of which was well versed in the interesting places we wished to visit. It was of no consequence to him or us that the most interesting places were out of bounds to British soldiers. Indeed they were subject to close scrutiny by the Military Police to keep us out. We always figured that they kept us out so that they could enjoy the amenities on their own.
On arrival at the tourist sites and after a short negotiation with the residents, we were invited inside. There were lots of nice chairs and sofas, each one Imight add was occupied by a beautiful lady, or at least we thought so at that time of night in the state we were in. They were so friendly and after introductions and a small matter of the "entrance fee" we were invited into a nice small room, a very small room, just a bed and a chair would fit in it. The remainder of the visit was all in the mind until we would bid farewell to our new friends and climb back into the taxi for part three of the evening at the French sisters' bar, if we could make it. Most of these visits went very well, but I seem to remember that one was quite an adventure. After the usual few drinks at the sisters' bar and the ride with the taxi that deposited us at a suitable location, all was going very well thank you. On this night in question we heard shouting and vehicles outside, the Military Police patrol had arrived.
Fully dressed except for my pants, I was able to hop out of the back window onto the roof of another building. All went well, I was quite a distance from the scene, when suddenly the roof beneath me gave way and I fell down. I found myself in a room with two people staring at me. I just wished them both a good evening and ran out into the street. Lady Luck was with me as there was a taxi. I dove into it, told the driver to take me to the French bar and then proceeded to replace my pants. All my friends eventually arrived back at the bar; all had managed to escape the Military Police. Two of them had gone around to the front of the building to get the taxi; they saw a policeman sitting in his land rover. They crept up on him, grabbed him and handcuffed him to the rear bumper of his vehicle. That made sure that there would be a delay while his friends released him, allowing the lads to escape. After a while the Military Police did come to the bar looking for someone I suppose, the sisters told them we had been in the bar all night, nice ladies, with two witnesses like that what could the poor policeman do?
We were all fit young men on leave in Cyprus; we knew that we would have to go back to Egypt soon, so we had fun while we could. The bar owners were happy, the girls were happy; they just "loved" to see us. We caused no damage, well maybe the roof of that house. No one got hurt. We sure felt a lot better after our rest and recreation...

...Idi Amin carried on the tradition, and there are many more like him just waiting for the chance to get and keep power through force and killing. It is their way of life and they see absolutely nothing wrong with it.
Our group received information that a farmer and his wife and children had been butchered the night before by their houseboys, these had taken off into the forest with their loot which included weapons. We were rushed to the area and witnessed the disgusting mess; we swore to get those responsible, as well as the Mau Mau that had helped them. Our tracker was sent out and later returned to tell us that he had found the tracks, we headed towards the forest following the native tracking along the ground. He was a wonder, he could see things that we could not, he never hesitated to check a stone here or a bent plant there, nothing escaped him. For two days we trudged, no fires, no smoking and not much sleep or rest either, we wanted the gang so badly. We were well into the forest and the hunter told us to set up a camp, secure and quiet. The natives were sent out to have a look around to try to pick up some signs of the people we were after. The hunter decided that there were no people around for a few miles and allowed us to have a small fire to cook and make a brew of tea that tasted good after two days on just water.
We took turns at sleeping and just waited for our boys to return, it was no good being impatient, without some information what could we do? So we just settled down to wait. When the boys came back they told us that the gang had now joined up with about 30 Mau Mau and were heading north deeper into the forest. They believed that the gang was also setting up a ceremony to swear in the new houseboys. We checked all our equipment and also sent a runner back to the control point to let them know what we were doing, they would plot the area and have help ready in case we called for extra men. Off we went, following the tracker, for hours we just moved silently and slowly. The tracker stopped and told us to wait, after about five hours he returned and announced that he had found the Mau Mau camp. It was about five miles away in deep bush.
Hunter decided that we would move out in the dark and try to get into a good position before daylight came. It was hell walking through the bush, tall grass and thick undergrowth, but thinking of the farmer and his family made us keep going. The tracker told us we were getting close so we halted, just the hunter and I would go forward to see what the set up would be; we crawled for ages and at about 100 yards away we checked for the vital signs. We planned the cut off routes, safety fire zones and the assault positioning of our team. It was just before daybreak. The gang had a fill of beer, the native kind made from maize and cow blood or whatever they could get hold of, the drinking and the dancing at the swearing in had taken its toll, some were staggering around singing or fighting with each other. Most however were dead drunk and sleeping it off...

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