IRAQ

Our arrival at the transit camp was in the early hours of the morning

and we didn't try to get organised but being young and tired we slept

well, nevertheless we woke with the dawn at about 6am and then surveyed

the scene. There were a dozen or so bell tents including ours set in

the middle of nothingness, flat vacant desert all around us; true there

was some sign of activity a quarter of a mile away that turned out to be

the local brickworks but otherwise nothing. We asked the name of this

God-forsaken spot and were told Shaiba.

It was still May and the days were getting hotter. We had to be

initiated into the ways of desert life; topees to be worn at all times

in the sun, shirt sleeves rolled down and slacks to be worn after 6pm

when it was the mosquitoes turn to be around and about, copious amounts

of water to be drunk and two salt tablets taken daily.

To get us into condition after the inactive period at sea we were

exercised gently. Small groups were marched along to the brickworks, a

somewhat over stated term, where some Arabs were mixing up a dough-like

slurry that was then put into wooden moulds, something that had been

done by their forbears for the last three or four millenia. The moulds

consisted of four sides and a bottom; the open face of a filled mould

was smoothed off by hand and the brick turned out to dry and bake in the

sun. I never measured them but they seemed to be near enough the same

size as standard English ones. Bricks made this way were called

plano-convex because five faces were flat and the sixth convex; each

bore the imprint of a thumb on the convex face, formed as the brick was

ejected from the mould. Similar bricks were used in the building of the

Sumerian city of Ur several thousands of years ago.

From a pile of bricks we each had to pick up two and march back to the

camp, dump them then return for two more; 10 or 12 such trips gave us

the exercise we needed and acclimatised us to the dry heat. What was

unexpected was the blowing sand that seemed to get everywhere, in one's

eyes and ears and sticking like a film to any exposed sweaty flesh; some

relief came by eating one's food in the relative shelter of the tent but

even so sand could find any chink to gain entrance. Ignorantly after

dinner one day, mindful of instructions, I swallowed the two obligatory

salt tablets; later I felt a little strange and then discovered the

emetic properties of salt. Ever afterwards I took my salt in small

quantities with plenty of water.

As its name implied the camp was only intended to hold troops until they

could be dispersed to their various units; there were no recreational

amenities available though we could purchase a local brand of cigarettes

called Red Bird in packets of five for five fils (about one farthing

each, old currency). We slept 10 to a tent, feet at the central pole

and bodies radiating outwards; early on without being taught we learned

how to dig a recess for our hips and over this area we spread our

groundsheets. Though a bit firm our small packs served as pillows.

After dark the only source of light came from a hurricane lamp, this was

not always effective in which case it was swapped for a useable one from

another tent when nobody was looking, standard army practice.

I forget how long we stayed there, maybe a week but then the draft was

split up and dispersed and I was posted to Al Musayyib, some 40 miles

south of Baghdad. However before I started the army wanted to get some

useful work out of me and so with three others I acted as escort to an

ammunition train going up as far as Mosul near the biblical city of

Nineveh. We were supplied with canned and dry rations sufficient for

the journey and joined the train in the evening with rifles, some

ammunition for them, side arms and all our kit. An empty wagon served

as our mobile quarters, empty that is except for straw or similar

material to soften the hard wagon floor and we slept uncomfortably in

shifts. On the first morning we awoke itching, sand flies had feasted

on us as we slept fitfully; I think they really enjoyed fresh caucasian

blood and we spent a while scratching and slapping.

With the start of the day deficiencies were discovered in our equipment,

while we had tea, sugar and dried milk we hadn't any water or the means

of containing or boiling it. One difficulty was overcome when we

bartered cigarettes for a petrol can from some railside Arabs. Funny

really because it was once part of British stores; it was a tall

square-sectioned metal can from which the top had been removed; at the

top a wooden bar stretched from side to side to form a carrying handle;

it appeared to be clean and we assumed that it was. The problem of

boiling water was solved when we asked the locomotive driver to blow

some out from his steed. I learned years later that this was definitely

not recommended healthwise but that's what we did many times and we

survived.

The train stopped at various towns and villages on the way, As Samawa,

Ad Diwaniyah, Baghdad, Samarra and lastly outside Mosul. At no stop did

we venture far from the train we were guarding. The journey was

interesting; except for the towns the land was light brown and mostly

barren; in the open country flocks of sheep roamed with their attendant

shepherds and this presented an almost biblical scene. To our western

eyes there was one noticeable difference however, in the west the

shepherd would be behind his flock, driving them but here he was in

front, leading. Perhaps in this land of sparse vegetation the sheep

relied on him to find the best grazing. We reached Mosul in the evening

and our train drew up alongside an army camp, the lads there were

enjoying a movie; the translucent screen lay between us and the audience

and from our wagon we saw one hour of Mrs Miniver, back to front and

soundless.

Discharged from our escort duty we boarded a passenger train heading for

Baghdad and enjoyed the luxury of slatted wooden seats. I was quite

excited with the anticipation of what lay ahead and could hardly wait to

see more of the mystic land of the Caliphs. The train drew into Baghdad

and as it slowed we could see more of the city, fine buildings mixed

with mud brick homes, the Ishtar Gate and the minarets of mosques, the

strange clothes, music discordant to my ears, porters bent double with

unbelievable loads on their backs and the smells. At that time I had to

be content with a passing impression because I was bound for Al

Musayyib, to No.5 Advanced Base Workshops. That designation in the

middle of Iraq puzzled me and it was not until many years after the war

that I discovered the reason for it and the reason for my being there.

The workshops were some 40 miles south of Baghdad and a mile or so from

the Arab town; the town was out of bounds to us but a metalled road from

there passed between our camp and the workshops; we only ever saw

military traffic on it. Both camp and workshop compound were separately

surrounded with barbed wire, three coil dannert and apron was the

official name for it. Individual shops were scattered within the

compound, seemingly haphazardly and they contained equipment for which

any contemporary British engineering firm would kill for.

Accommodation within the camp consisted of huts similar in design to

Nissen huts but were built of local materials with low brick walls and

pre-cast arches supporting curved roofs of straw reinforced baked

mud. The floors were of course bare earth. Outside the end doors of

each hut stood a large urn of unglazed earthenware, a chatty, kept full

of water laced with salt to make sure we took our daily dose to ward off

heat exhaustion. The water was cooled by the evaporation of the small

quantity of water that seeped through to the outside of the chatty and

it was very pleasant to drink. Non-potable water for ablutions and

laundry was brought in through underground pipes from a source unknown

to me, the river Euphrates perhaps, anyway the pipes could not have been

buried very far beneath the surface because in the summer the water was

quite hot. Again, using local materials, the screens around the

unroofed showers and latrines were made of woven palm leaves.

We started work early in the morning, reveille was sounded by an Arab

bugler (we didn't have one) at 6am, we marched off to start work by 7am,

finishing at 2-30pm to take advantage of the cooler part of the day.

Most of us were classed as tradesmen though we were constantly reminded

that we were soldiers first and tradesmen second. Except for mounting

guard at the officer's quarters we were exempt from guard duties, these

were carried out by Indian troops within the workshops compound and by

the Royal Sussex Regiment around the workshops and camp environs. At

night they patrolled the streets in lorries equipped with twin Bren

guns. One report had it that they once fired on one of their own

corporals, hitting him in the legs. Often we would see them in the

morning marching back from their duties whistling or singing Sussex by

the Sea. Venturing into the workshop compound at night in pitch

darkness as we were sometimes required to do was a different matter,

quite an eerie experience in fact; the Indian guards were silent and one

never knew exactly where they were though their presence could be

detected by the faint clinking sound of the chain that attached their

rifles to them To ensure that we were not mistaken for intruders we

tended to announce ourselves by whistling. One would think that with

all these guards the place would be impregnable. Not so. Frequently at

night when we were at the mobile cinema sounds of gunfire would be heard

coming from the workshops and sometimes there were bodies.

Heat I think was our greatest problem followed by sandstorms. The

highest official shade temperature I remember seeing was recorded in

Baghdad, 121°F, though inside the workshops I've seen the mercury

register 128°F but this was enervating and little work was done then.

In severe sandstorms we protected our eyes with goggles but exposed

flesh was stung by blowing sand; although the lenses of the goggles were

not tinted it was like viewing the world through the yellowish amber of

Golden Syrup. In 1943 or perhaps it was 1944 I saw the nearly total

solar eclipse through a sandstorm, with goggles but with no other eye

protection.

During the summer months the prevailing winds came from the north-east,

sweeping in over the Iranian plains, by the time they reached us they

were bone dry, this was a good thing really because we sweated profusely

in that heat and were rapidly cooled by evaporation. Occasionally for a

couple of short periods in the summer humid winds would blow in from the

Persian Gulf and then it was most uncomfortable, shirts would be sodden

and dark with sweat and if they dried before being washed they would be

stained white with salt. We had our laundry done twice a week by the

dhobi but that was inadequate so we did our own in between times; in the

bone dry air a pair of slacks could be worn 15 minutes after washing.

One of our lads, mimicking the dhobi by bashing wet laundry on a flat

stone was put on a charge for damaging government property; he was

acquitted after enlightening the officer who obviously had never done

his own laundry.

One piece of equipment supplied by the army for which I was very

grateful was the chargul, a water bottle made of a coarse canvas similar

to fire hose canvas that worked on the same principle as the chatty.

Drawn new from the QM stores it would not hold water but had to be

soaked until the canvas had swollen; filled with water and hung outside

in the air it provided a beautifully cold drink in a fairly short time.

This evaporation principle was also adopted to lower the temperature

inside ambulances by means of a cuscus tatty; this consisted of a

four-sided wooden frame with chicken wire front and rear, the cavity was

filled with what we called camel thorn. Water was pumped up from a tank

and sprayed over the unit; air passing through the moist camel thorn was

then directed into the body of the ambulance to cool the interior.