Chapter 7

A second trip of similar ancient historical interest was made to Babylon, again organised by the padre; the excavations here seemed to be on a much larger scale and had been made by German archaeologists at a time when Germany was extending her political interests in the area. They carted off quantities of the better preserved relics and displayed them in the Berlin Museum; whether or not they survived the bombing of WWI I don't know. Again we were amazed at the skills of the ancient artisans, building blocks fitting together with scarcely any visible joints. Bricks here were a bit different from those at Ur, they were about one foot square by four inches thick made of sun baked straw reinforced mud and in their centres many carried an imprint in cuniform characters that I was told translated into This was built by King Nebuchadnezzar. I have a portion of such a brick, not in this case purloined by me but given to me by another member of the group who got tired of carrying it The site had its own interesting museum and the whole was guarded by some smart Arab soldiers, members of the Arab Legion that had been formed after WWI by the British and that was under the command of Glubb Pahsa, an officer seconded for the job.

Iraq was a monarchy and the king at the time was a young boy, Feisal but because of his age the de facto ruler was a Regent; both were to be assassinated in the 1950's. In the interests of public relations our workshops made a model of an armoured car suitable for riding in and also a model of a two wheeled water trailer; these were presented to Feisal. He was not over-pleased however because the armoured car was not powered.

Quite a few Arab civilians were employed by the army in various capacities, some clerical and some labouring depending upon their abilities. In general we got on well together though early on I learned not to offer cigarettes from an open packet as ten would be accepted in one grasp with profuse thanks, rather I found it more economical to hand them out one at a time in which case I would have some left for myself. There were Iraqis who showed an aptitude for our type of work, some indeed who were smarter than we were and where possible they were trained as tradesmen. Some difficulties were encountered such as when a sergeant-instructor was told by his pupil that there was no such thing as the law of gravity, it was the pressure of air that kept things on the earth. Generally however the training was successful. Life was not without its humour, one trainee was given for his trade test two pieces of green wood to weld together, and he tried. After a minute the instructor said, "How're you doing, Johnny?" "Thik hai, Sahib." replied Johnny as clouds of acrid blue smoke enveloped him, smiling as he went about his impossible job. After a while he realised that he was being teased and took the joke in good humour. He was then given the real test which he passed easily.

Eventually the time came for No.5 ABW to disband. There were no special farewells but an informal parade took place at which we were thanked for our services; after that we dispersed but not before we set fire to the officers' latrines and enjoyed the sight of some tardy members fleeing the flames. I forget the actual details of our departure, we were split up to some extent and I together with others boarded the train, southward bound, heading for our new home, No.1 Base Workshops, Shaiba.

No.1 BASE WORKSHOPS

The name Shaiba covered an area in southern Iraq to the west of Basra, of indeterminate boundaries as far as I could tell; in fact although I've tried hard to locate it on several maps it doesn't seem to warrant a mention but it was the address for our tented transit camp, for an RAF station and for No.1 Base Workshops. Again the army establishment was in the middle of nowhere, flat empty barren desert all around; we knew where the RAF station was located because we could see the planes just as they appeared or disappeared below the horizon but we could not see any of the buildings. We did at times go across there by lorry if a visiting ENSA group was putting on a show, or to see a good film; I remember seeing a production of No, No, Nannette on one occasion but I didn't go there frequently.

The area covered by our workshops and accommodation was vast; I heard but never verified that the perimeter fence exceeded four miles in length. The buildings, both workshops and billets, were much the same as those at No.5 ABW but there were many more of them and they were equipped to deal with the assembly and repair of all types of fighting vehicles, guns and transport or any sort of engineering problem with which we may have been confronted. Working hours were set to coincide with the coolest part of the day, reveille at 6am, marching off to start work by 7am and knocking off at 2:30pm by which time the day's temperature was at its highest. Most sensible soldiers then stripped off and lay on their charpoys doing nothing for a while to cool down but there were some athletic types who decided to play soccer even though the temperatures were well above 100°F and they didn't seem to suffer from it. This period of our doing nothing appeared to upset some of our superiors who decided to put the concept of soldiers first and tradesmen second into practice and inaugurated regimental training sessions that took place later in the afternoons. There was some resentment over this order and this revealed itself in the reduction of workshop output, some vehicles having GO SLOW chalked on them. The hint was taken, regimental training ceased and production returned to normal.

MUD-BRICK AND STRAW HUTS, No.1 BASE WORKSHOPS, SHAIBA, 1945

Of the vehicles sent to us for repair some were too far gone to be put back into service though they were still driveable -- barely, and these were used for internal transport, delivering hot meals for one thing. Borrowing the word from India we called them gharries and Johnny Lockett removed from his skilled occupation of precision grinder was able to master his to the extent that he could drive around almost clutchless.

Our drawing office was six strong, one from an architectural firm, four from engineering firms and one, a sergeant, a free-lance artist. We had ample supplies of drafting materials and were generally well equipped though we had no print machine, only a glass frame for sun exposures and a lead lined tank for the water developing and fixing of prints. Besides cartridge paper and tracing paper there were plenty of rolls of tracing linen that were rarely used for the designed purpose, once the starch was washed out it made very nice bedsheets, a little narrow perhaps but quite useable. We had two types of print paper, one a standard blueprint and the other a brown line; these were called in army parlance ferro-prussiate and ferro-gallic respectively.

Insignias of rank do a lot to inflate egos and the Company Office WO came in full of his importance and the superior status of clerks, he demanded immediate attention and three prints of a particular drawing.

"What colour d'you want?" asked the sergeant.

"What d'you mean?"

"What colour d'you want?"

"What choice is there?"

"Ferro-prussiate or ferro-gallic."

"Eh?"

"D'you want ferro-prussiate or ferro-gallic?"

"What's the difference?"

"Brown lines or white on blue?"

"I think it had better be the ferro-whatsit, white on blue." And he departed, a little wiser and somewhat chastened.

Drafting skills and the associated engineering knowledge were not generally appreciated; an Indian corporal, a Company Office clerk, a baboo, looked in one day, viewed the work being done and said with an air of complete confidence in his abilities, "You show me sergeant -- three days I do your job."

The DO was supplied with a bike, an army version, heavy and unwieldy. Most bikes we were used to in Britain were equipped with two hand brakes but this one had a coaster brake, trying to pedal backwards would apply the brake to the back wheel. Riding a bike in Iraq presented some difficulties, the terrain was a mixture of hard ground and loose sand, not always easy to tell apart, and loose sand would quickly bring you to a halt. One day before the hot weather began I was wearing battledress but not gaiters; I rode off across the desert; almost simultaneously my trouser leg got caught between the chain and the sprocket, the bike found some loose sand and I fell off. Lying on the ground attached to the bike I tried to disentangle myself but with the coaster brake I couldn't reverse the direction. There was nothing for it but to wind my trouser leg right around the sprocket, not an easy task when you're lying on the ground attached to a heavy bike. The trouser leg was not badly damaged, some minor perforations but a lot of black grease. Usually after that I walked.

DO STAFF No.1BW, SHAIBA, 1944 Jim Parks Jack Walker Jock Pulsford John Village John Cox And that bike

As the warmer weather began we had to start sunbathing, for the first couple of days stripped to the waist we spent five minutes in the sun; the time in the sun was gradually increased until we eventually acquired a healthy tan.

Near to our establishment was a prisoner-of-war camp housing Italians who had been captured in the Western Desert battles; when Italy capitulated they became, overnight, co-operators and were allotted billets within our compound. We fraternised and they were allowed to use our facilities but could not buy beer which was rationed, though occasionally a non-drinker's bottle would be surreptitiously diverted. Over the bar was a sign that read Vietato per soldati Italiani the translation having been provided by one of our cooks who had been a chef in pre-war Italy. Before the war a DO member had started to teach himself Italian and had with him a vocabulary; this we used to bridge the communication gap. We supplemented this by recalling as best we could our schoolday French and substituting what we believed to be a corresponding Italian accent got along fairly well.

It was decreed that the mobile cinema showing old films would be replaced by a permanent theatre that would also show old films. It would not be an Odeon but would be a more posh theatre and the design job was given to the DO as we had some architectural experience at hand. It was to have a sloping earth floor bounded by brick walls with a little enclosure for the projectionist. When the design was completed the actual building task was given, using standard army intelligence, to a pre-war cinema projectionist. The sand was bulldozed up to a wedge shape and then the brick walls were added but instead of the bottom course being laid on horizontal footings and stepped at intervals to obtain the required increase in height the bricks were laid on the sloping floor with the courses following the same angle. How they managed the coins beats me.

With the cinema in full swing the Italians naturally wanted to share in the entertainment and to the army this presented a slight problem for although they were regarded as co-operators complete integration was not yet an official policy, memories of hostilities were still fresh. As a compromise someone thought up a great idea, the cinema would be divided into two parts separated by a rope cordon, the front one third would be for the Italians and the rear two thirds would be for the British. I think the Italians would have accepted this arrangement even though they had been allocated the worst viewing positions had it not been for the actions of a couple of Brits who started a call of "Baa, Baa, Baa." This was soon taken up by the rest of the Brits until the place sounded like a farmyard at shearing time. One by one the Italians got up and walked out and the Brits thought they had scored another victory but two nights later they found that the cinema was still divided by a cordon which this time ran from front to back so that the two groups now sat side by side each having good, intermediate and poor viewing positions. Peace reigned.

As might be expected in the army, government items that should be within the QM stores often found their way into other hands. Authorities found that the easiest way of dealing with this problem was to announce that on a particular time and day a kit inspection would be held, but that on the previous night the QM stores would be open and all illegally held items could be returned with no questions asked. The kit inspection would still be held but it would catch far fewer people and fewer charges would be laid. One fateful day the lieutenant and sergeant appeared at my bed and turned out my kit. "Ah, ha," said the lieutenant as he extracted a steel rule, "government property." Well he didn't actually say, "Ah, ha," but I gleaned that from the expression on his face. I assured him that it was my personal property but he would have none of it. I pointed out that it bore no bench mark or other mark identifying it as being government property but he said, "No, -- take his name and charge him, sergeant." They both passed on through the hut and later the sergeant came back to take particulars; in the meantime a thought struck me, I went through my wallet and as luck would have it I found what I wanted. I presented the sergeant with a bill of sale from a shop in Aldershot registering the purchase of a steel rule complete with its serial number. He viewed this, mumbled something and disappeared. Did I ever get an apology for being accused of stealing? Pigs might fly.

Due to the very hot sandy dusty conditions in the country we were not supposed to spend more than two summers in Iraq and to ease things for us the army arranged that everyone would, at some time during that period, be sent on a two week compulsory leave to Beirut. Imagine, compulsory leave! The journey was taken in four stages and the transport was a small convoy of army lorries with Indian drivers and co-drivers. We drove only on metalled roads and our first overnight stop was at a place called Wadi Mahomadi where the only signs of habitation were our huts. After a good night's sleep we set off the next morning for Rutbah which lay on an oil pipe line guarded by Military Police but which seemed just as deserted. We stayed there for the night. Our lorries held about eight of us and we lolled around in the back; for comfort it was agreed that our army boots should be removed. Lafferty declined. Ingram, a member of our boxing team insisted. Lafferty's boots came off. At this point as our lorry started weaving we discovered that our co-driver was missing, there was only one man in the cab, the driver, and he was dozing off. Perhaps it had been this way ever since the start of the journey but we weren't very happy about the situation so we made the driver keep whistling; whenever the whistling stopped someone would lean out and reach round into the cab window and poke the driver to bring him round.

We passed through Dar'a in what was then called Trans-Jordan and our third night's stop was at Damascus, one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in the world and here things were much more civilised. On the forth leg we crossed over the mountain range into Beirut. The road was serpentine; when we started out it was quite a hot day and we were in tropical kit, we were told that at the crest, some nine thousand feet up, we would feel the cold; I was a little doubtful about this but at the higher points snow lay on the roadsides and I certainly did. Mount Hermon was pointed out to us in the distance as we drove. Descending from the crest Beirut and the curve of the Mediterranean spread out before us, it was a wonderful sight, the beautiful blue sweep of the sea contrasting with the brilliant white of the houses set in the green of the trees. However our attention was soon drawn away from this scene as we realised that instead of changing down to negotiate the winding road our driver either from ignorance or inability stayed in top gear and drove on his brakes, and no amount of shouting or banging on his cab persuaded him to pay any attention to us. We got in to Beirut without any further incident but I guess his drums and linings were in a bit of a state.

Until this time right from the beginning of the war we had never been allowed to wear civilian clothes or go about untidily dressed, there had never been any respite from the feeling of being controlled, but now within the camp we were allowed to spend the day in swimming trunks even when going into the mess tent for meals though of course we dressed to go into the city. What a feeling of relief, we were human again.

It was a wonderful two weeks, thoroughly refreshing; most of the days were spent on the beach swimming and breasting the breakers but we went into the city as well. It is sad to compare the beautiful Beirut of those days, a most civilised place, with the devastated Beirut of the 1980's. Civilised it was but they were also prepared for the influx of rowdy soldiery; in one bar a wide shelf about seven feet off the floor was fronted with chicken wire and on this shelf behind the chicken wire a three piece band played away, protected from missiles hurled by inebriated pongos.

This was the life; we could have got used to it but the day came when we had to board the lorries again and head back to the desert. The trip, otherwise uneventful, was marred by an accident; one of the lorries in the convoy carrying the cooks and their utensils took a corner too fast and overturned. Two Indian cooks were killed.

During the next two years I was twice detached from Shaiba for short periods. First of all I was posted to Baghdad where I was billeted in a camp but by day I was employed in a large private house in Mansoor Street. Military and local civilian staff worked there. It was interesting to see the Arab girls arrive daily in western dress and watch as they left for home in the evening to not very attractive accommodations where they changed into non-western dress. My original task was not very important but as they now had a tame draughtsman on hand other work was found for me and one whole day was taken up with making small prints of some publication or other. This involved taking a print frame out in the sun for very short periods and because I would only be exposed to the sun for seconds at a time I didn't wear my pith helmet. However during the course of the day the time spent in the sun was cumulative and later I had to report sick. Obviously I didn't disclose my foolishness to the MO and so I was diagnosed as having sand-fly fever, that good old stand-by when they didn't know what was really wrong with you and I was sent to hospital. I remember having a temperature of 104°F and I vaguely remember going into and coming out of delirium. A few days later I started to improve but then contracted dysentery and so spent another while in hospital. After discharge it was decided to send me away for a couple of weeks convalescence; I hoped it would be to the RAF at Habbaniyah where they had air conditioning but no, I was sent to the YMCA in Baghdad and eventually returned to Shaiba.

The train trip back was interesting. Theoretically I was on my own but there were many other soldiers on that train and in order to keep ourselves supplied with cool drinking water we all had our filled charguls hanging outside the carriage windows using the train's movement for quicker evaporation. After many miles we came across an unusual sight; there had been a derailment and rolling stock was strewed everywhere, blocking the line. A new track had been laid by-passing the obstruction; as we slowly made our way along this loop most of the passengers moved to the right side of the train to get a good look at the damage. When things returned to normal it was discovered that all the charguls had been removed from the left hand side of the carriages, railside Arabs knew that we would be occupied gawking and took advantage of our distraction; they found charguls useful too.

My second posting was to an army assembly plant at An Nasiriyah where the main job was the uncrating and assembly of those vehicles from the USA that were to be forwarded to the fighting areas My task there was insignificant and lasted only about three days. The boss man was a Colonel D'Albuquerque and he had arranged something that I thought novel for the army; he set a daily quota for the output of vehicles and when that target was reached then work finished for the day. A window in his office was fitted with a cuscus tatty, a poor man's air conditioner similar to the units fitted to the ambulances; water had to be sprayed over the unit and whenever his office became a little too warm he would summon an Indian soldier and using the universal mixed language would shout, "Pani, Pani, Pumpee, Pumpee," whereupon the Indian would grin and start pumping.

While I was there a shortage of small springs became apparent and some assemblies were held up; now the crates invariably held every last item required to build the vehicles so a kit inspection was ordered; nothing was found. On further investigation an unusual bed was discovered; the owner had decided to improve his creature comforts and had diverted the springs and linked them together to provide a more luxurious charpoy for himself; his pleasure didn't last very long however, the colonel saw to that. I left before I could find out what punishment he got.

It was generally accepted that in the army a batman, an officer's servant, was a volunteer who wanted a softer life and a little more cash. Not always true. We had an officer who was so unpopular that nobody wanted the job and since it was infra-dig for a commissioned man to look after himself one soldier was ordered so to serve. If you doubt this then you should ask the aforementioned Lafferty who did his best to get out of this chore but without success. He tried to refuse to take the cash but was ordered to accept it; he held this job until someone else could be persuaded to take it on. Of course Lafferty should have thrown the money away or else given it to a deserving Arab.

At times we were taken off regular duties and given some military instruction and exercises. Various weapons were discussed, some were demonstrated and others we had to practice with. One which we only saw intrigued me, it was a mortar that went by the name of Blacker Bombard, it had a limited range and fired two types of bombs, smoke and high explosive; what seemed strange to me was that the lethal range of the high explosive bomb was greater than the distance that the bomb could be hurled. We didn't fire that one. We did take our turns at firing a two-inch mortar, both smoke and high explosive and when we all had had a go there were a few bombs left over. The sergeant asked if anyone would like to finish them off and the offer was taken up. There's always one in every crowd and this lad set the mortar as near vertical as he could and dropped in a high explosive bomb. The rest of us didn't wait around but radiated outwards faster than we ever thought possible. Fortunately near vertical was not really vertical and no injuries ensued.