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.