There were periods when the weather was particularly still and hot. Back home in the UK we would have expected thunder, but not necessarily so at Borgentreich. In these conditions, at dusk or after dark, the sky would constantly flicker with high altitude, but silent, lightning. At times of no moon these electrical displays could be as vivid as they were continuous, and uncannily eerie as well.
When the rains did come the light loess soil would wash away by the wagonful. Loess is a type of wind-blown marl which had blown, it is said, from North Africa to this part of Europe over many millennia. It compacted like a light clay but would easily wash away in heavy rain or turn to dust in dry windy conditions. In the wet there would be layers of it alongside the roads where muddy rainwater had drained across. In dry winds it would pick up and blow across the land in a layer of claybrown fog about a metre deep almost, at times, obscuring the very surface of the fields. This was weather-induced land erosion in the extreme.
When thunder came, the storms could be extremely violent with constant flashes and much noise. Most buildings, and all of those in the village, had lightning conductors. Later, after I had changed rooms in the Mess for one with a view across the open country, I watched many a bolt of lightning strike a tree or the ground, sometimes not far away. Occasionally I would be joined by a brother Officer whose room did not have such a view, and we would watch for maybe an hour or more. These storms were spectacular and, not infrequently, lasted several hours until their force was spent or they moved slowly away.
After an overnight shower of rain, or a light frost in the short spring or autumn, first thing in the morning, threads of steam rose from the land as the sun warmed the tilled soil. As the moisture evaporated it formed a low mist; thankfully we never had any serious fog.
In the late summer of 1957, and almost certainly because the weather conditions were right, we had a plague of mice. There were thousands of them. They got into everywhere, into our upstairs rooms in the Mess, into our clothes, and into every building on the camp in huge numbers. Out in the open they tunnelled in the bottom of the grass, in the dry thatch just above soil level, and had runs all over the place. At its peak these creatures could be seen openly running across and along paths, up walls, on the roofs, everywhere. The tech site didn't suffer this intrusion, only the domestic site and its environs. Something had to be done, and quick. Everyone not on essential duties was detailed for the whole of one day to arm themselves with whatever appropriate weapon they could find so as to eliminate these pests as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Even the Fire Section deployed hoses to soak all inaccessible areas, drains, ducts, drain pipes, roofs, anywhere they could get, to drown as many as possible. Pits were dug for the disposal of the corpses. The day had its effect and few mice were to be seen afterwards. Barrack inspections followed to make sure that all areas were clean and that no droppings were left about. It rained shortly afterwards, heavily enough for no more mice to be seen - something for which all ranks were very thankful.
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