My National Service continued (2)
Chapter Three
December was not the time to expect calm seas in the Bay of Biscay. On the first morning on board, the mess tables were laid out for breakfast, but only a few sat down to partake of the meal. The previous evening had been quite hilarious as we "slung" our hammocks below decks. The amount of space allocated for each pair of hammock hooks didn't appear adequate to take the bulk of a human being, but in the end we managed to sort ourselves out. Getting in and out of a hammock needs a lot of practice, but on that first evening we were so tired that we were only interested in getting in - the problem of extraction could wait until the morning. During the night I was aware of the movement of the ship, and felt a slight reaction from my stomach region but managed to sleep quite well, It was in the morning when I lowered myself to the deck that it hit me - that terrible feeling of sickness. Obviously there were many others in the same state, and that was the reason for the low number wanting breakfast. On offer were kippers, and those in the mood for eating could have as many as they wanted - I think the majority of these fish went back to where they came from - the sea. I was one of the unlucky ones - it was many days before this terrible nausea left me, and I would stagger up on deck, and just lay there watching the clouds in the sky go up and down and from side to side and feeling hopeless that there was nowhere to escape to.
By the time we reached Malta I was feeling somewhat better, and when we were offered the chance of a few hours ashore I quickly took it. The sea on all sides of the ship had become a floating market, with crowds of small boats trying to sell us their wares - mainly carpets. It was these craft that turned themselves into taxis to ferry the hundreds of soldiers who wanted to go ashore. It was impressed on us that we had to be back on board at 3 p.m. or the boat would be gone and those left behind would find themselves on a court-martial. We didn't have long to explore the harbour town of Valletta, but the lovely warm sunshine made us forget the grey skies of England. We had left behind a country struggling to get over the trauma of war, and many things were still on ration, including sweets. If I have one lasting memory of Valletta it is shop after shop displaying piles of Cadburys milk chocolate, a sight I hadn't seen for over seven years! I have never fathomed why there was so much of it in Malta, and yet in the shops at home we hardly saw a bar. You can therefore imagine where a lot of our money went that day, and quite a bit of the chocolate was consumed by the time we were looking for a boat to take us back on board. Fortunately we quickly found one and were back well before the departure time. Not everyone was so lucky, and as the ladders were lifted from the side of the ship and she started to move, we could see a couple of the Maltese boats being rowed feverishly towards us. All those on deck stood at the rails shouting encouragement, but the result was inevitable. The images of these boats got smaller - I often wondered what happened to their occupants and where they ended up.
The Otranto was not just a troop-ship; on the two top decks she carried passengers, and for the majority of time these areas were out of bounds to us, but provided we had civilian clothing there were permitted times when we could join these passengers. The regular period for "housey, housey" was one of these. (I don't think the term "bingo" had been invented then). Of course, we had to be on our best behaviour and it was most enjoyable sampling the more luxurious part of sea travelling, but with our arrival at Port Said in Egypt it was back to earth with a bang. Us "riff-raff" were confined to our decks whilst the civilian passengers and all their luggage were disembarked. It was evening before we moved ourselves and it was straight into trains to take us the length of the Canal Zone to Suez. It was now that we discovered how the majority of the Egyptians in that area travelled - by hitching free rides on the sides, roofs and if possible, the inside of the carriages. Some of those getting inside had more on their minds than the ride, and quite a number of soldiers arrived at Suez with articles of equipment missing, and even the watches from their wrists.
Living conditions at Suez were something new to us - tents. Mostly they had the sides fully open to let the air through. The unexpected heat took some getting used to, especially as we were warned to expose ourselves to the sun gradually. The temptation to throw off our clothing was great, but once again that threat of court-martial was thrown at us. Apparently if we reported sick with sunburn we were on a charge, as this was an "avoidable illness". What was unavoidable was dysentery and you were indeed a lucky soldier if you got away without being hit with a dose of this. The warning time of an unfortunate occurrence was very slim!
Eventually the time came to be told of our postings. On the morning parade names and destinations were read out, and soon it came to the group of us that had all travelled together from our training at Catterick. After each name came "Palestine" - now this was not good. Palestine was in turmoil as Jews across the world attempted to reach their "promised land". Unfortunately Britain had gone back on its promise, and was doing all it could to keep the incomers out. It had reached a state of conflict, and it certainly wasn't a good time to be a member of the Royal Signals in Palestine. Keeping communications going was of top importance, and telephone lines were continually sabotaged requiring signalmen to climb poles to repair them, consequently becoming easy targets for hidden snipers. The list of postings to this troubled zone continued, and I knew that it was getting very close to my name, and sure enough - "542 Signalman Jordan ......... 4th Air Formation Signals, Ismailia". Such relief! Next day, it was in a truck for the journey to the outskirts of that town, situated half-way along the Suez Canal.
Chapter Four
Our arrival at 4th Air Formation Signals gave us a let-down from the strict military discipline that we had become used to. This small camp with about 50 soldiers seemed to have a law unto itself. You were expected to be "properly dressed" when on duty, but other than that you could go about the camp in a slovenly fashion! At breakfast everyone seemed to have just thrown on whatever was nearest to them, and you even had the sight of military trousers and shirt, with sockless feet pushed into decrepit old sandals. Everyone was more or less properly attired for the morning roll call parade, but all the parade officer was concerned with was that all those listed as belonging to the outfit were alive and well and in camp! There were four of us from the original Catterick training course, and it was left to us to man the small switchboard, in a lonely small hut on the edge of camp. The rota was easy to settle, three members on eight hour shifts, and one off duty but in reserve should anything unforeseen occur. We found that calls going through the board were few and far between. It was a bit busy first thing in the morning, when there appeared to be calls to staff due on duty, making sure they were awake and out of bed! During the day a number of calls were made to places outside of Egypt, but all these were put on scrambler so that nothing could be overheard. Quite a number were to the Kingdom of Jordan. During our time with this unit no-one told us what its purpose was, and any questions were quickly passed over. I wouldn't say that we were associated with spying, but it would seem that "collecting of information" about happenings in the Middle East was the concern of 4th Air Formation Signals.
This easy schedule meant that we were able to frequently go into Ismailia proper. It was a pleasant place, with a good selection of shops and park and garden areas. However, there was one thing that spoilt any trip into town - the shoe-shine boys! It seemed impossible to get away from their pesterings, and at times the persistent bleating to have our shoes cleaned became quite aggressive, with the threat that liquid polish would be thrown over our uniforms. Often they were able to get together a small hostile crowd, and getting out of an awkward situation often proved tricky. Even going into town in civilian clothes didn't help - the British soldier seemed to stand out from the crowd, no matter how he dressed.
On Saturdays, quite a number of the outfit wanted to go to Ismailia for the evening, and trucks would be organised. Coming out of the cinema one night I lost sight of the main group, found myself in a strange area and it was some time before I found the place where the trucks were parked. Except they weren't - they had already departed! It wasn't all that far back to the camp, so I set out to walk it. It was a moon-lit night, but even so all sorts of rustlings and crackings came from the roadside trees as I made my way back. I suppose I began to feel vulnerable, and imagined every sound was someone tracking me from behind the trees, ready to spring on me on the lonely road. The shout of "Who goes there" from the guard on the camp gate was extremely welcome, but it was so unusual for a returning soldier to walk into camp at that late hour that he took a little convincing that I was who I said I was and belonged there.
There was one thing about this camp that vividly stays in my mind, and that was mealtimes. You collected your meal at the cookhouse, and then walked across a piece of open ground into tents where there were tables for you to sit and eat the meal. That small piece of open ground was a real assault course! Always hovering overhead were these large hawk-like birds (we had a name for them, but I won't repeat it here) and as soon as they saw a plate of food they took action. They seemed to work in pairs, one would attack the head of the individual carrying the plate and the other would scoop off as much food as possible at one go, and the pair would depart to consume the spoils. Their success rate was pretty high, so much so that any soldier arriving in the tent with an untouched full plate was loudly cheered.
It was only a few weeks that we were at this camp. One morning the CO informed us that our services were no longer required - we were never told why, and I occasionally wonder what the reason was, and who, if anyone, took over the manning of the unit switchboard. In later months when I mentioned 4th Air Formation Signals no-one had ever heard of them, and a clerk in a regimental office even went as far as checking the roll of all regiments and units in Egypt, and never found them mentioned. Perhaps when we left, the whole set-up disbanded and faded away like a puff of smoke - but I didn't imagine my time there! A couple of days after our meeting with the CO we were told that we were being posted to 3GHQ Fayid. This information was greeted by huge grins from personnel who knew the place - "You won't know what's hit you" was thrown at us. We were further informed that it was strict dress at all times, even going to breakfast was in full uniform complete with blancoed gaiters and polished boots. There would be no escape, as an NCO. was always at the cook-house door scrutinising everyone who entered. For those who were not on their working shifts, there were drills, rifle and machine gun shooting on the range, excercises and various other tasks that could be thought up by the enthusiastic officers and NCO's. Goodbye lazy times at Ismailia - it was good whilst it lasted!
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Chapters 1 and 2
Chapters 5 and 6
Final
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