Chapter 9

Sometimes we went into Ismailia, a nearby town for a change of pace, perhaps to the open air cinema or to buy something to send home; I remember sending packets of jordan almonds and dates back to Britain. The war with Japan was now officially over but mopping-up would still take some time and troopships of pink Brits were constantly passing; we used to cheer them up by yelling, "Get yer knees brown, Pinky." or, "Yer going the wrong way." Many of the old stagers among us were fried to a deep brown and could easily pass for natives and some used to swim out to the troopships and emulating the natives dive for pennies thrown by the unsuspecting pink Brits.

The army had spent a lot of time over the years teaching us to do the most uncivil things and now they attempted to re-humanise us; for this purpose members of the Army Educational Corps were sent out to lecture us on several subjects dealing mainly with the practical side of living, buying houses, mortgages, how to deal with uncooperative neighbours, a little applied psychology and the like; quite useful really.

With my Jewish friend I took the opportunity to go to Palestine; we stayed in Haifa in the Hotel Mizpah on Hadar Harcarmel. We did the rounds there and then split up for a while as he had friends in the area, later we went on to Jerusalem staying at the YMCA. On my own I wanted to see a bit of the city and as I was wandering around trying to decide which way to go I was accosted by a self-appointed guide who insisted on showing me the sights. I said, "No -- no -- NO" but I couldn't shake him off, whichever way I turned he was there chatting away and pointing out things that he thought I should see. Actually he spoilt my day and when the tour was over I felt obliged to give him something, he told me his fee and I gave him half; that didn't please him but he might have learned that "no" means "no."

I went on to Tel Aviv where I booked in at Toc H, Talbot House; wanting to see as much as possible I parked my belongings on my bed and off I went into town. I don't remember too much of the place, I wasn't there long enough. It was a lovely sunny day and the brilliant whites of the buildings stay in my mind -- and of course the beach. Going back to my room I discovered a letter on my bed, it was addressed to A British soldier, somewhere In Israel and bore at its top right-hand corner what purported to be a facsimile of an Israeli stamp though of course Israel didn't exist at that time. The gist of the message inside was to this effect, "If you are ordered to open fire on Jews, disobey the order." I carried this letter around with me for ages until after I was demobbed when I put it aside with other memorabilia and although I've hunted and hunted it has unfortunately disappeared. After my stay in Tel Aviv I returned to Jerusalem for a few days, looked around again, this time without a guide and got set to go back to Haifa. This was on November 11th 1945 and there had been some Israeli terrorist bombings. The bus company decided to go on strike but I managed to flag down a jeep and hitch a ride all the way. Arriving at Haifa the Military Police stopped me from returning to the Hotel Mizpah as more bombings were expected and I was forced to put up at The Union Jack Club near the waterfront. The accommodation was dormitory style, one floor up and my companions for the night were all Jews, about six of them, members of the British forces. The conversation naturally turned to the unrest in the country and I was given a comprehensive and detailed account of Jewish history and of their aspirations. I was told with some exaggeration of all the famous people in the world who were Jews, some claims I knew to be true, of others I was uncertain but I didn't argue. After three-quarters of an hour of this one said, "we're wasting our breath, he doesn't believe us," and the conversation turned to more innocuous subjects before we drifted off to sleep. The next day I went along to the bus station feeling a bit peeved to think that I was the owner of an unused return half ticket and was prepared for a minor confrontation but to my surprise the bus company offered me, without the slightest murmur, half the cost of the original fare. The Military Police allowed me to go back into my hotel to collect my belongings; I bought some Christmas cards that had pressed flowers inside labelled Flowers from the Holy Land and then with Louis I returned to No.2 Base Workshops.

Now that the war with Japan was over the steady homeward flow began of those British civilians who had been their prisoners. Some were to pass through our area. Our work was tending to wind down and thinking mainly of the children one workshop was turned over to the manufacture of toys; these were fairly simple ones generally in wood and although we didn't have exactly a production line going we certainly made large quantities and lots of wheeled ducks were painted by me.

PAINTING THE DUCKS

The other main sights to see long before the creation of the Aswan Dam and Lake Nasser were Luxor, Thebes and Karnak and together with Jock Grey I went to Cairo and booked up a trip at the YMCA. Our train companions were an American, Howard Sorrel and an ATS girl whose name now eludes me. We stayed at the Hotel de Famille in Luxor on an upper floor. In the afternoon, hearing an unusual sound of human voices we looked out of the window and saw a procession approaching at a jog trot; this was an Arab funeral and the women were wailing. The coffin was carried shoulder high by six or eight bearers who changed places frequently, it was open topped but covered with a green baize cloth and the occupant was having a rough ride, bouncing around in keeping with the jog trot.

Later we were given an extensive tour around the antiquities of Luxor and Karnak; then crossing the river by dhow and going overland by estate car we reached Thebes and The Valley of the Kings. There we toured several tombs including that of King Tutankhamen.

THE VISIT TO LUXOR, KARNAK AND THEBES. NOVEMBER 1945

A small boy approached us surreptitiously and in return for a few piastres offered to show us a mummified head; this was strictly illegal of course but we paid and took some photographs. Our guide took us back to his house and showed us some of the antiques he had acquired; he gave us all mint tea and then brought out more modern items for sale. I bought two small alabaster vases, others bought mementoes also but one lad after asking the price of a particular object started to haggle not realising that in his own house the guide felt obliged to sell for the lower price. Seeing the look of consternation on his face we tumbled to his dilemma and made up the difference on later purchases.

Rummaging through the relics of those days I recently came across a letter that I had sent to my mother back in 1945 and amongst the scribble I found the corpse of the mosquito I had swatted in mid-blood-suck and sent home; there was still a red stain on the letter.

Life drifted on. Just before Christmas I had a cable from father telling me that mother had had surgery and was seriously ill; I applied for compassionate leave and travelled to Cairo for an interview in the Hotel Semiramis. The officer said that it could be arranged but since my demob was imminent I would probably get home quicker if I let things take their course. I did.

Before we were demobbed we had to undergo a medical examination to ensure that we couldn't make any post war claims for incapacity due to our service; at the same time we were asked what medals we were entitled to. I said that I didn't want any medals, being only too glad to be getting home again. We were never actually discharged from the army but placed on "Z reserve" and were instructed to report any change of address to the authorities. In January I was on the homeward stretch, first to Qassassin by lorry then by train to Alexandria. We assembled at the quayside; "Right, lads," said the sergeant, "pick up your monkeys and parrots and get fell in facing the boat." We wasted no time boarding the Colorado Springs Victory. She was American, a welded Liberty Ship and naturally had an American crew. The sleeping arrangements were not hammocks like the British but were double decker steel framed beds The route taken was known as Medloc; we steamed across the Mediterranean between Italy and Sicily, passing a smoking Stromboli as we headed for Toulon. Being an American ship we didn't have oatmeal for breakfast but were served what they called farina which many years later I discovered to be cream of wheat. The dock area of Toulon was a bit of a shambles, bomb damage everywhere and sunken ships. On our way through the town we came across many roadside graves, bayoneted rifles stuck in the ground surmounted with the German helmets of those who didn't make it.

It was bitterly cold in Toulon and what was unusual for the south of France there was snow everywhere. Three of us filled in time by taking a walk to the east of the town and when we had had enough we hitched a lift back to camp. A French jeep came by with two French sailor types, they stopped for us and we jumped in the back only to find that it was already partially filled with four Chinese and one dead sheep. We headed quickly in the direction of Marseilles where I think they were going to board a ship and we were passing our camp at high speed; thinking that we may be shanghaied we kicked up a rumpus and were dropped off a couple of hundred yards west of the entrance. Next day our train journey took us up through a snow covered France to Dieppe where more devastation was visible. One more night in a camp, then on to a ferry, The Maid of Orleans, to Newhaven. It was not a smooth trip, we were kept below deck and three hours later we emerged somewhat queasy but glad to be back in Britain.

We went by train to Aldershot but I have no recollection of the journey nor the name of the barracks to which we were sent, I was just happy to be so close to freedom again. Niggling thoughts about what I could expect when I got to Bristol worried me. I hadn't had any news since I had father's cable but there was nothing I could do. The morning after our arrival we were sent in groups by lorry to Woking to get fitted out with civilian clothes; we were allowed to keep our greatcoats, boots, socks, tropical shirts and shorts and then we were let loose in this large army clothing store. There was a huge selection to choose from and I collected a raglan-sleeved overcoat, a brown two-piece suit, a shirt, socks, a trilby hat and I believe some shoes, though I'm not certain about the shoes. Once I was outfitted I lost no time in collecting a travel warrant and caught the trains for Bristol, changing from the Southern Railway to the Great Western Railway at Ash.

As the only hats I had ever worn were those at school and in the army both being compulsory I later gave the trilby to my uncle and the boots also because things were still scarce in Britain and the boots came in handy for work on his allotment garden. The tropical kit I gave to my neighbour as I vowed never to wear khaki again.

IN THE END

Father met me at the front door and the news was not good, perhaps I was still naïve but I had never thought of losing any of my family, not even during the air raids and I was shocked. All the family rallied round and mother was looked after at home, whatever could be done was done but there was no future; she had awaited my return and gave me my prized possession, an Omega watch, on Valentine's day; she died two weeks afterwards.

The world now looked very different and the jubilation with which I had anticipated my return to civilian life faded. I decided to take stock, contemplating the future and looking back over the past. What difference had the last six-and-a-half years made to me? I believe that the army life had hastened or indeed was responsible for my conversion from a youthful naïve romantic into a mature cynic. The grateful country offered university education to its returning servicemen but I was coming up to 28 and didn't fancy another four years on a meagre income. I was not earning much before the war and although I had trade pay and an overseas allowance when I left the army, I was far from wealthy. Some firms made up their employees" pay to the level of their civilian pay but mine didn't. I opted to continue working initially with my old firm and let the future unfold as it would but I was already thinking of that beautiful country still in my memory, South Africa. I applied for a job there and was given an interview and a medical and I was accepted. However I was told to wait until a future date when I would be contacted again with travelling arrangements. Funnily enough the representative's parting remark was, "I hope you're not like that other Bristol chap I interviewed, when we contacted him he didn't reply." However history did repeat itself, I met my future wife, changed my address and forgot to advise him of the new one.

In the aftermath of the war I got to thinking and wondering; I had never been in a tight spot and tested; true I had been in the Plymouth and Bristol blitzes but so had 1000's of civilians. I don't think I was any more or less scared than others, probably I was average. I would like to have known just how I would have measured up had I been in a more military action but fate decreed otherwise. I shall never be certain now but if I consider myself to be average I can always be persuaded that I would have acquitted myself as well as anyone else. I got to wondering too why I had survived six-and-a-half years in the army and emerged unscathed and in one piece when so many others who had joined the forces long after me were now dead or maimed. This has often led to slight feelings of guilt, particularly at armistice-day parades.

My country had been at war with three adversaries but the first Italian I saw was a prisoner-of-war in Iraq; the first German I saw was a prisoner-of-war in Alexandria just prior to my demob and I have never yet seen a Japanese soldier. However I did have some enemies, a few real and many potential; anybody adorned with stripes, pips crowns or rings could make trouble for me and a few did. This does not mean that I was anti-authority because I did encounter many whom because of their leadership qualities I would have readily followed but there were others on whom power did not sit well. I didn't have much to do with RAF personnel and can't comment on them but most of the Royal Navy types of all ranks that I came across seemed to be rational beings. Of the army the peace-time regular officers with some years of service appeared to be the most considerate of their charges but the wartime intake of people unused to exercising authority produced some very objectionable characters.

What had the army done for me and what had I done for the army? I don't really know. I had gone where I had been told to go, done all the things that I had been told to do, (with some minor glitches) but I cannot assess what contribution I had made to the war effort Being part of a team I was probably indirectly responsible for some enemy deaths, even making the plotting table may have contributed but I'm not aware of any and have no worries on that score. Perhaps the army knows, I don't. Then what had the army done for me? When I left I was as physically fit as anyone had the right to be, I had a short fuse and was perfectly capable of looking after myself, very different from the lad who joined the Territorials in 1939. What skills had the army given me? Well for one thing I had demonstrated that on a lucky day I could, unarmed, overpower an opponent charging with a fixed bayonet (the bayonet in a scabbard of course), three times out of five actually, theoretically I knew how to split a mouth from ear to ear (the lips tear like paper I was told) and I knew that hobnailed boots rubbed down an opponent's shin would stop him temporarily from whatever he was doing. There were some other party tricks too. Additionally I had had some experience in plane table surveying but none of these attributes had a place in the kind of life I envisioned. What the army had given me was a tour around many parts of the world that I probably not have achieved otherwise but this had to be paid for in loss of earning capacity and wasted hours. I quite enjoyed the camaraderie and I also appreciated the opportunity of living communally 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for six-and-a-half years. Nobody can keep their guard up for that protracted period and I was able to study uninhibited human behaviour first hand. The group I studied was almost infinite in number and thus I acquired an ability to judge character that has stood me well over the years even if I did become a little cynical.

Inevitably I suppose the question has to be asked, was it worth it, would I do it again? And although I fretted at times under the discipline the answer has to be a resounding "Yes", I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

To end this tale we now pass on to 1952. The Korean war was still going on and I suppose that somebody thought of "Z reserve". A small package addressed to me arrived one day by registered post; inside was a Territorial medal duly inscribed with my name and the words For Efficient Service, complete with a length of the appropriate ribbon. I suppose I should have been pleased but I had already said that I didn't want any medals. A week or so later I had another letter, not a particularly friendly one, berating me for not having advised the authorities of my change of address; actually I had moved twice since leaving Aldershot. By getting my signature for the registered package my latest address had been confirmed. Hurrah for military intelligence, they had triumphed again. I have moved three times since those days but as I'm well into my 80's I don't imagine that tracking me down again will be worth their while.