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 ofGolden 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 thedhobibut 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 thedhobiby 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 thechargul,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 acuscus 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.No.5 ADVANCED BASE WORKSHOPSThe compound covered quite a large area the exact size of which I can’t say but it was spread out over a vast expanse of desert with the various workshops located in no apparent order. There were no metalled roads but between the buildings a hard travelling surface was obtained by putting discarded engine oil over the loose sand and traffic soon firmed this up For heavier loads a two-foot gaugeDecauvilletrack was laid between the main buildings and trucks were hauled by a Lister powered locomotive. For off-loading really heavy equipment within the compound a metre-gauge spur line branched off from the main line linking Turkey with Basra.When we first arrived the conversation centred around two topics, firstly there was the recent flea infestation that fortunately for us had now subsided; apparently this had occurred quite suddenly, lasted for a brief period and then unaccountably it was over. Perhaps Keatings had something to do with their departure. Secondly there was the tyre scandal. I was told unofficially that with the shortage of tyres amongst the Iraqi civilians some had been diverted from the British stores in exchange for cash and sentences had now been pronounced.Time out from surveying Al Mussayib 1943In those early days no master plan existed showing the layout of the installation and to remedy this deficiency I was quickly instructed in plane table surveying, a subject in which I had no previous experience. Jim and I spent weeks and weeks out in the sun wearing the pith helmets that had now replaced our cork topees, getting browner by the day as we toiled away with plane table, tripod, sighting rule and chain (well, we didn’t have a chain but we managed with a 100-foot steel tape), gradually building up a map of the camp to our superiors’ satisfaction. Just before this project was complete I was taken off for some other drawing office work. Not a great deal of real engineering work was done in the DO, mainly modifications to drawings to implement changes to armoured equipment; the six wheeledStaghoundseems to be the one vehicle I recall. But one must not forget the other onerous duties, keeping up to date all the pretty coloured charts and graphs in the Company Office so that the clerical staff could see how many soldiers they had, where they were and how many were sick. We also had the task of addressing the parcels that the commissioned ranks sent home to their families as we could print more neatly than they could and anyway it was beneath their dignity to do anything so menial.I suppose that now would be a good time to explain the reason for our existence in that area. Between the two world wars Britain had been awarded by the League of Nations the mandate to govern Iraq and had military forces in the country, notably the RAF in its permanent station at Habbaniyah; naturally some Iraqis objected to this arrangement and caused a bit of trouble but their big chance came when Britain declared war on Germany. Under their leader Rashid Ali they tried to drive the British forces out. A major engagement occurred at Habbaniyah but the RAF personnel successfully resisted them. The early part of the war had not gone too well for the Allies and by 1942 Germany had advanced in North Africa to the borders of Egypt and in the east was on the road to Tiflis (now Tiblisi). It seemed that unless these advances were stopped which at that time appeared doubtful the two armies would join somewhere in northern Iraq and drive southwards taking control of the oilfields of Persia and Iraq. This would have had serious consequences for the Allies.There existed at this time in Shaiba a very large ordnance establishment, No.1 Base Workshops which besides being well equipped to service tanks, guns and other military hardware also stored vast amounts of everything else an army required. For this reason it was decided to interpose No.5 Advanced Base Workshops between Shaiba and the advancing Germans. That’s why I was there. Fortunately the German armies were halted at El Alamein and Stalingrad so the personnel of No.5 ABW were later relocated.Anyone who has worked in an engineering shop will recognise some of the sounds associated with various operations, for example a bench grindstone on being started up has a peculiar whine, very high pitched when top speed has been achieved; this is followed by a clatter as metal is presented to the stone. I heard this whine and then nothing. Why? I went over to this grindstone and saw a man grinding away at the sole of his gym shoe. The QM had issued an edict to the effect that no gym shoes (orshoes, canvas) would be replaced unless the soles were worn through. These shoes like so many other pieces of army equipment had been stored over a long period in the open air in the blazing sun and consequently their uppers had rotted. This lad had been left with a pair of fairly good soles but hardly any useful uppers and not wishing to fight the stupid edict, knowing he could not win, decided that he could beat the system.The workshop compound was fairly deserted at night but the Company Office stood within it so night time pickets had to be supplied. The duties were negligible apart from lowering the REME flag at dusk and raising it again at dawn; there must have been a reason for this but it escaped me. The hours before bed were boring and lonely but looking around the place and viewing some of the documents was interesting. Apart from Army Council Instructions (ACI’s) there were other papers printed on yellow paper, applicable to Paiforce, whose title eludes me now. One item caught my eye, I can’t recall the exact wording but in essence it said, ‘If a soldier were to be executed then his next of kin should be informed that he died while on active service’. Technically correct I suppose but why not tell the truth? To spare the family pain and disgrace? Or to protect he system and avoid answering awkward questions? As Churchill remarked, “Truth is the first casualty of war.”Drinking water supplied to the cooks was brought in daily in the evening in a two wheeled trailer that was then parked adjacent to the cookhouse ready for their early morning chores. Breakfast and evening meals were taken in the mess room in the camp but the mid-day hot meals were delivered to the various workshops by lorry; they were kept hot by being stored in ‘hay boxes’ forerunners of the present day coolers and these too were kept adjacent to the cookhouse. I mentioned earlier that there was a severe shortage of tyres among the Iraqis, many civilian lories could be seen on the roads, well loaded and carrying as many Arabs as could possibly hang on, with only on tyre on what should have been a twin wheel. The British had tyres and the Iraqis were envious. Arriving early one morning the cooks discovered a hole in the perimeter fence and the axle of the water trailer resting on two hay boxes. The two wheels and their tyres were missing. The hay boxes had been placed under the axle of the trailer and the sand scraped away beneath the tyres until they could be freely removed. We knew where the intruders came from because there was a small Arab settlement a quarter of a mile from our camp.The gap in the fence was repaired and a watch kept; some days later another gap appeared and expecting another attempt at stealing an ambush was set up. Two REME personnel (I was one of them) armed with our SMLE’s and two privates of the Royal Sussex Regiment armed with Bren guns got into position after dark and waited for the intruders to appear. I wasn’t too happy about this because it could be the first time I had a human target in my sights. Fortunately for me and the possible intruders the Orderly Officer and the Orderly Sergeant came along in their jeep, stopped by the gap, illuminated it with their headlights, then got out and inspected it, thus warning any watching Arabs that we were expecting them. I was very glad when daylight came and I still had five unused rounds in my rifle.Not all nights passed so uneventfully however. One unlucky guard on the last shift of his duty going from the guard room to awaken the cooks interrupted a robbery that was taking place in the cook’s hut. He was set upon and stabbed several times, he survived but the robbers escaped.We were allowed leave on occasion, the nearest site for any sort of entertainment was Baghdad and we could take day trips there but could not stay overnight. When I first arrived there was still some residual hostility towards British troops and we were instructed to go around in twos and to wear side arms but this rule was later relaxed. A lorry was made available each Saturday and Sunday to make the somewhat uncomfortable journey into town.Adjacent to our camp a mobile cinema put on films twice a week, these were mainly old ones that we had seen at home; with only one projector there was a pause as the Arab operator changed reels. Often he had difficulty with the numbering of the reels and this led to some interesting results, sometimes a murder would be solved before it had been committed. When such a mix-up occurred the restive audience would yell,”Get yer money ready, Shafto,” harking back to similar situations in WWI. Waiting for an audience to arrive an Arab stood with his wares, beautiful green grapes that he sold at 50 fils a pound, about the price of ten good cigarettes. Someone had obviously instructed him in Imperial measures and, “One pow-und.” he shouted as he weighed them on a primitive hand held scale using a railway spike as the nearest thing to a pound weight.Besides being able to buy English cigarettes we could also get Canadian ones,Sweet Caporalbut not all favourite brands were available at all times. The army issued a free ration ofVictorycigarettes, a nondescript brand that were just about acceptable as a last resort and which were often given away to Arab civilian employees. We could get Palestinian beer and CanadianBlack Horsebut I never saw any British brands. Beer was rationed of course, I think it was two bottles per man per week and non-drinkers often used their rations for barter or for cash.DESERT LIFEThe days passed slowly and routinely and the sweltering summer gave way to winter. Winter could not be described as being very cold but after the high temperatures the contrast was palpable. On six or so nights the water in the chatties would freeze and then we piled everything including our greatcoats on our beds and even then we sometimes shivered. Our huts were unheated but in some of the work huts primitive fireplaces were made. These consisted of two low brick walls 18 inches high, three feet long and about one foot apart. On top of these was a steel plate that carried a funnel at its front and a flue pipe at its rear; the funnel was fed through small pipes from two cans, one containing water and the other containing discarded engine oil. The two fluids dropped through the funnel on to a piece of pipe which caused them to splatter; oil soaked rags were used to start the combustion and then the flames quickly roared along under the steel plate and up the flue pipe. The heat was controlled by adjusting the flow of the fluids in the cans. Our small Drawing Office was so heated.The office was also home to ants (small, medium and large) and red ants, mice, termites and temporarily to visiting hornets and scorpions. The termites built their tunnels of regurgitated wood fibre up one wall, along the insulated electrical wires and down the central wooden roof support to the nest that housed their queen. She was a bloated white creature. They were constantly building, repairing and enlarging the tunnels and nest. Red ants contested possession of this area and we watched the perpetual battles unfold.Arab incursions into the workshop compound were a bit of a problem and in order to combat them the sergeant-major announced that the perimeter fence would be mined. The mines were really hand grenades, not the No.36 or Mills bomb but the No.69, a plastic cased type. I suggested to him that if he were to record their position then we could add the information to our map of the camp or record it on a separate map. He agreed. Off he went, several hours passed and then he and a couple of his accomplices returned. “Gimme the map.” he politely requested and I did so. Now the scale of the plan was such that the whole area covered a sheet measuring about four feet by three feet. He looked at it for a bit and then stabbing at it with his stubby forefinger he said, “We put one or two here, some about there and a few in this part ---- .” Relative to the scale of the plan his stubby forefinger spanned about 20 or 30 feet so his information was useless and we never did have an accurate record of the disposition of the mines. Presumably after the passage of more than 50 years they have been discovered, probably to the disadvantage of the discoverers.Our OC had an unusual name, Bonallack that was often mispronounced as bonny-lack and to remedy this gaffe a notice appeared on Daily Orders to the effect that, ‘The Colonel wishes it to be known that in the pronunciation of his name the accent should be placed upon the penultimate syllable.’ Uncomprehending soldiers stood around the notice-board saying things like, ”Wot’s ‘ee mean?” or “Wot the ‘ell’s a penultimate syllable?” The kinder more knowledgeable types explained it to them. Of course this lesson was purely academic for as far as we lesser mortals were concerned we never had occasion to address him as other than Colonel or Sir.It fell my lot one moonlit night to stand guard on the Officers’ Quarters and I clicked for the 6-8 and the 12-2 shifts. The first period passed uneventfully and not much was happening on the second shift; I was wandering about, looking at the moon and counting the grains of sand and longing for my bed when I heard shots nearby. Duty called and I hastened to the spot where I believed they came from. In front of me stood, or rather swayed, a Scottish lieutenant; I assumed he was Scottish as he was wearing trews but in the British army one can never tell. In the hand that he was slowly waving around was a smoking Smith and Wesson. “What’s up, Sir?” I enquired He continued to sway and wave. “Shnakes,” he said, “shnakes, there’s shnakes in my bed.” and he pointed. I followed his gaze to his bed that was out in the open since it was a warm summer night; his batman had made it nice and comfy for him complete with a tent type mosquito net. With my bayonet I gently raised the edge of the mosquito net and prodded the apparent corpse of the serpent; there was no movement; gaining confidence I approached closer to solve the mystery. The snake was in fact one of the tapes of the net, carelessly coiled on the pillow and he had put three bullets into it. I don’t think he believed me as I assured him that all was well, I left him gently swaying and went back to looking at the moon and counting the grains of sand.There were some lighter moments in the desert life, near Easter time a day’s entertainment was usually organised, not quite a fairground atmosphere but something approaching it. A few more talented types showed of their skills on army motor cycles, some in trick riding and others in racing. One such fanatic was Johnny Lockett who after the war rode briefly for the Norton team until a crash involving a head injury persuaded him to retire from racing. The main event of the day however was theDonkey Derbywhere steeds were hired from local Arabs to take part in a series of races. A sort of auction was held in which bids were asked for various mounts; the successful bidders became the jockeys. Some sort of prizes, I forget what, went to the winners.THE DONKEY AUCTIONTHE DONKEY AUCTIONHumorous situations occurred as inexperienced soldiers tried to persuade their mounts to greater efforts or in some cases even to start. The outcome of one race manifested itself when that good old standby of military law Section 40 of King`s Regulations was invoked; Daily Orders informed us that one, No.732 Craftsman Smith, was charged with `conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline in that on the occasion of the Donkey Derby he did wilfully and cruelly goad his mount with a railway spike.’ Needless to say he didn`t win on either day. The day`s festivities were often rounded off with a concert given by the Band of the Royal Sussex Regiment. A civilian lady singer appeared so frequently with the band that she was made an honorary sergeant.We were more than a little incensed to read a report in one of the British newspapers of one of the infrequent visits of an ENSA show. A female member was quoted as saying that ‘bacon and eggs are no luxury in Paiforce.’ Poor dear, she obviously had been a guest of the Officers’ Mess and didn’t know any better.Fairly near Al Musayyib was the ancient city of Ur of the Chaldees, the reputed birthplace of Abraham. It had been discovered and excavated in the 1920’s by Sir Leonard Woolley; as with most deserted habitations in that land it first appeared to him as aTelor hill, rising up above the surrounding flat land. I visited the site with a group led by our padre. Woolley excavated one half of the site down to below ground level, carefully preserving and documenting all he found; below ground level he found a layer of silt that he thought could only have been laid by water and thus he concluded that it was evidence of the biblical flood of Noah’s time. I believe this theory has now been discounted. Below this silt layer were pieces of broken pottery and I picked one up. At that time it was quite a large part of the bottom of an unglazed earthenware urn but due to an unfortunate accident when my kitbag fell off a lorry I now have only a very small fragment. We wandered along the excavated streets that were bordered by low walls of sun bakedplano-convexbricks and marvelled at the state of preservation. Although the Romans are generally credited with its introduction there was, dating back to a much earlier period, a semi-circular arch still existing. In places one could see, outlined by bricks, the formation of the rooms of houses. In the nearby museum were plans showing how the city was believed to have been laid out, dominated by theziggurat.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 intoThis 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 ofGlubb 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 thede factoruler 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 WORKSHOPSThe nameShaibacovered 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 ofNo, No, Nannetteon 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 ofsoldiers first and tradesmen secondinto 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, 1945MUD-BRICK AND STRAW HUTS, No.1 BASE WORKSHOPS, SHAIBA, 1945Of 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 themgharriesand 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, ababoo,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, 1944DO STAFF No.1BW, SHAIBA, 1944Jim Parks Jack WalkerJock Pulsford John Village John CoxAnd that bikeAs 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 readVietato per soldati Italianithe 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 calledWadi Mahomadiwhere the only signs of habitation were our huts. After a good night’s sleep we set off the next morning forRutbahwhich 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.Beirut, 1944Until 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 fromShaibafor 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 toShaiba.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 atAn Nasiriyahwhere 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 acuscus 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 ofBlacker 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.My rifle which in Britain had been extremely accurate was no longer so when I retrieved it in Iraq, perhaps it had had a bad sea trip, got banged around or otherwise warped but it was so much off that I checked the serial number to be sure; it was mine. To complete the course we hurled a few Mills bombs, fired a Bren gun, marched around a bit and behaved as soldiers were supposed to do and then we returned to our more sedentary duties. The commissioned ranks had also to be kept up to scratch and a series of tactical exercises was introduced. An assorted collection of craftsmen, NCO’s, a sergeant-major and a lieutenant was assembled one day together with their vehicles and other paraphernalia; they set off across the desert to a location that I believe was only a map reference. After two days the lieutenant had to admit that he was completely lost and so were they all. He was somewhat upset and said, “I feel terrible, I ought to shoot myself.” and the sergeant-major enquired, ”Then why don’t you -- Sir?” The suggestion was not taken however and a search party later led the group back to base.Attempts were made to keep us occupied and clubs were formed. There was the musical appreciation group with its portable gramophone and limited records, the photographic club again with equipment scarcities, a current affairs program that naturally kept clear of politically sensitive subjects, while anyone interested could learn to drive an army lorry. One enterprising officer tried to revive an interest in calculus and actually collected a few members though how long the course lasted is anyone’s guess.Attached to us were some Indian Army troops under British officers; the make-up was a little unusual, many of the soldiers had been temporarily released form prison on the understanding that if they served for the duration of the war they would then become free men. Most of their crimes were of a political nature, some included murder. They seemed to have an intense loyalty towards their officers and I encountered them in the following way; for our sports minded colleagues just kicking a soccer ball around wasn’t sufficiently satisfying, they wanted a regulation sized pitch marked out. The hard baked sand didn’t take paint very well but discarded engine oil could be used instead. Since I could measure with a steel tape and knew how to construct right angles using thethree, four, fiveprinciple and could count beyond 50 I was given the pitch proportions and told to get on with it. For help I was put in charge of six Indians who would hack out the narrow shallow channels with their picks along string lines that I had laid out and these they would fill with oil producing very dark lines. There were six of them all armed with picks and only one of me armed with an empty rifle. However I was told that they were quite harmless and could be persuaded to behave under the threat of confiscating their pay books which would have the effect of breaking their contracts resulting in their going back to prison. I had no trouble at all, in fact they were a cheery group quite happy to work.In the army I came across quite a cross section of humanity, running the whole gamut of characters. I am reminded of a sergeant-major, a peace time regular, who discovered one day that things were missing from the Company Office; he decided to do something about it. In the office there was a large wicker basket used for laundry and into this he contorted himself pulling down the lid nearly shut so he could peep out and identify the thieves. He waited and waited but nobody came in because the word had got around; eventually he emerged very stiffly, defeated. Early one morning he had occasion to phone the captain; it was a wall mounted instrument, he took the receiver off its hook and stood rigidly to attention facing the mouthpiece; when the captain answered he snapped a perfectly smart salute and said, “Good morning, Sir -- I am now saluting you.” And then he carried on with whatever else he had to say.I forget exactly how it came about but one time when I was in Baghdad I got roped in for guard duty, this time it was to watch over a prisoner. The prison was only a tent top surrounded with barbed wire and there was only one prisoner. It was all very informal, we chatted a bit and he didn’t seem to be at all concerned with his predicament. I asked him what he was doing there and he said that he was being charged with theft. “Of what?” I asked. “A jeep,” he replied. Apparently he had acquired a jeep and sold it to an Arab. “For how much?” I asked. “Four hundred dinars.” he answered. At that time the Iraqi dinar and the British pound were at par. He seemed to be quite happy, perhaps he had the money stashed away somewhere.A new item was now added to our kit to improve our lot; to alleviate some of the discomfort and soreness around our shirt collars due to perspiration we were issued withscarves puggree,squares of light cloth, khaki coloured. This was the same material that was wound around the crowns of our pith helmets; some lads, fashion conscious, decided not to wear them in the accepted manner and this led to an order being issued to the effect that ‘Scarves puggree will be worn loosely around the neck and not in a triangular cowboy fashion.’Most of us were classified in one of many trades but there were a few who were not tradesmen and they were classified asgeneral dutiesand they could be given any task not requiring any special skill. Three of these were attached to the Company Office where their main duty seemed to be making tea. A vacancy occurred in one of the workshops for a clerical type and I was ordered to take this job on a short term basis, for about three weeks. I didn’t jump at the chance, actually I didn’t think much of the idea but I went. The work was simple, checking parts in and out of the shop and took in total less than 30 minutes a day and it was boring, boring. The three weeks stretched into six weeks and eventually into ten weeks. I complained several times that the job could be easily done by ageneral dutiestype but was constantly fobbed off. After a while I asked to see the colonel and then the bureaucracy slowly slipped into gear, my request went upwards from rank to rank until at last an appointment was made for two weeks hence. The very morning that I was to see the colonel I was told to get back to the DO again. When I approached him after going through the rigmarole of marching in, saluting smartly and agreeing that I was indeed the soldier he thought I was he said,“You have a complaint?”“Yessir.”“You want to return to the Drawing Office?”“Yessir.”“But I see you are back there already.”“Yessir, this morning”“Then there doesn’t seem to be any complaint now does there?”“No Sir.”“Now don’t think that your return has anything to do with your making a complaint, it’s purely coincidental.”“No Sir, certainly not, Sir.” I lied.“Dismiss.”I did so, inwardly fuming at having to take part in this farce that could have been settled weeks before at a lower level and which would have saved the colonel from looking so foolish.Opportunities sometimes allowed us to do something out of the ordinary and two of us asked if we could spend our two weeks leave in Teheran, in Iran. Strangely enough permission was granted and we set off in the evening crossing into Iran at Ahwaz. The journey took about 20 hours passing through Dizful, Khorramabad, Arak and Qum and countless numbers of tunnels through the mountain ranges before reaching Teheran. It was an interesting trip carried out in upholstered luxury. We were billeted in an army camp but were left to our own devices day and night. AfterShaibaTeheran was a lively bustling city; we did some window shopping looking at the Russian made Leica cameras that were much cheaper than but inferior to those made in Germany. There was a plethora of uniforms about of various branches of various forces of various countries not counting the wonderful uniforms of the cinema doormen -- quite confusing; I was saluted several times by Russian soldiers who were probably just as uncertain as I was.I was caught out by a British major when I failed to salute him; he asked me where I was stationed and when I answered“Shaiba.”he enquired, “Don’t they salute officers there now? They used to when I was Provost Marshal.” I had not worn my greatcoat for ages when I was inShaibaand had not polished the brass but it was much colder in Teheran and I was now wearing it. He eyed the green brass buttons of my greatcoat with disapproval but let me off with a warning as he realised that I was on leave from that God-forsaken spot; I think he felt sorry for me.We went to a cinema to seeBambiwhich I had seen before in England but this was different; the sound track was in English with French sub-titles and to one side a separate screen about seven feet square carried the dialogue in Farsi. It was just as well that I had seen it before because those who could read explained the film to those who could not and I could hardly hear the sound track for the constant babble.Compared toShaibathe air was cool and crisp and my friend who was a bit of an amateur astronomer said that under the right conditions the planet Mercury could be seen with the naked eye and sure enough under a cloudless sky just after sunset we saw it quite close to the sun’s edge; I’ve often looked for it but I’ve never seen it since. The reason for our choosing Teheran as a vacation centre was that another couple of members of our group had gone there not long before and spoke of it approvingly; they had stayed a little longer than we and had climbed, or partially climbed, Mount Demavend that was about 19,000 feet high. We had no desire to copy them but spent the best part of a day walking northwards from Teheran seeing the wide open spaces apparently uninhabited apart from the occasional local who viewed us with interest and suspicion as to our intent. In the city one of the main sights was the railway station, an architectural gem that had been built earlier by the Germans. Being a carpet weaving centre there were all shapes, sizes, colours and patterns on display and also for sale, many laid out on the sidewalks to be walked upon by passers-by which surprised us. I wasn’t too certain about the sanitary arrangements but on many streets I saw open gutters running between the sidewalk and the road and there seemed to be ample water run-off from the northern highland. All good things have to come to an end and after two weeks we caught the train back to Ahwaz and thence toShaiba.For entertainment we had radio programs relayed from Britain but we also picked up programs emanating from Ahwaz which was under American control.Rum and Coca Colasung byThe Andrews Sisterswas pounded out at least three times daily. Occasionally boxing was arranged between ourselves and the Americans to what we would call amateur rules, three three-minute rounds with a two-minute break between rounds, no referee in the ring but with the contests bring controlled verbally by an officer at ringside. The styles of the two countries differed and we considered ourselves lucky if we won three out of the ten bouts. Naturally we cheered for our own boxers but were appreciative of any American who adopted the more upright stance rather than the American crouch. There were frequent cinema shows and sometimes ENSA parties visited us on their tours of army bases; twice I recall going to shows given by touring Russian groups; though the language was unintelligible to most of us the types of turns given did not require any great understanding of Russian and their performances were first class. I usually went along fairly early to grab a reasonable seat and was frequently annoyed when I was dispossessed by late arriving superiors; on such occasions I sometimes returned to my billet to read a book or to go to sleep; I was fairly content in my own company.The army would not be the army if we did not have visitations at times by the top brass. I don’t remember and I don’t think I ever knew who the officer was who came to inspect our installations; I wasn’t much interested. However the Machine Shop was set up to display our talents and virtually every machine was to be working, operators were called in from other jobs where necessary and Johnny Lockett was one such lucky one. Although he was a skilled man he had been put to work driving an internalgharriaround the base on trivial errands but now he was called in to stand by a machine that was honing the bores of cylinder blocks and he was doing just that when the top brass came by. The machine had been previously set up.“And what’s going on here?” asked top brass.“Honing cylinder bores Sir”.“I see, and how metal are you removing?”“Don’t know, Sir.”“You don’t know! then what are you doing here?”“Watching, Sir.”“What’s your trade?”“Precision grinder, Sir.”“Precision grinder and you don’t know how much metal you’re removing?”“No, Sir, I was just told to come here and stand by the machine. I don’t think it’s cutting anything.”Johnny Lockett was not very popular with his superiors after that and I believe he went back to driving the internalgharri.I think it was about July or August 1945 that I was transferred to Egypt, anyway while we were in transit we read that the Americans had dropped a super bomb on Japan and the consensus among us was, ”There they go, bragging again,” and we put it out of our minds.We travelled in style this time -- to start with. After WWI two Australians, seeing the potential, had acquired some vehicles and started a company,Nairn Transport,to carry passengers and freight across the Middle East and our party was put on two of their air conditioned coaches to travel from Baghdad to Damascus. The routes had been well established by this time and the coaches left the metalled roads and went across the desert in a fairly straight line from point A to point B. I was in the second coach following the leader and for a while all went well; we kept a reasonable distance between us because our passage stirred up a whirl of loose sand. Of course it had to be our coach that eventually broke down; our driver honked and honked until he got the attention of the leader; consultations followed. By-and-by a tow chain was hitched to one of our front spring shackles and off we went. With no power we had no air conditioning and the heat became unbearable so we opened the windows. This was not a good idea because we were following close, a tow chain’s length, behind the other coach and we were in the minor sandstorm of its wake. Soon our sweaty bodies were caked with sand and the only respite came when the front spring shackle gave way and we ground to a halt. Repairs were made and the tow chain was re-attached, this time to the other front spring shackle. Many miles farther on this one also gave up the ghost and there were no more spare parts available for repairs, fortunately a small Arab settlement was close at hand. It was now night and we waited and waited until a relief coach reached us and took us uneventfully into Damascus. The next day we boarded the metre gauge railway train bound for Dar’a. My memory now fails me; I remember passing the southern end of Lake Tiberias and arriving at Haifa but I don’t know how I got there. From Haifa we took a train along the coast into Egypt, crossing the Suez Canal at El Qantara, finishing up eventually at another desolate spot, No.2 Base Workshops at Tel-el-Kebir.
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 ofGolden 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 thedhobibut 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 thedhobiby 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 thechargul,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 acuscus 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.
No.5 ADVANCED BASE WORKSHOPS
The compound covered quite a large area the exact size of which I can’t say but it was spread out over a vast expanse of desert with the various workshops located in no apparent order. There were no metalled roads but between the buildings a hard travelling surface was obtained by putting discarded engine oil over the loose sand and traffic soon firmed this up For heavier loads a two-foot gaugeDecauvilletrack was laid between the main buildings and trucks were hauled by a Lister powered locomotive. For off-loading really heavy equipment within the compound a metre-gauge spur line branched off from the main line linking Turkey with Basra.
When we first arrived the conversation centred around two topics, firstly there was the recent flea infestation that fortunately for us had now subsided; apparently this had occurred quite suddenly, lasted for a brief period and then unaccountably it was over. Perhaps Keatings had something to do with their departure. Secondly there was the tyre scandal. I was told unofficially that with the shortage of tyres amongst the Iraqi civilians some had been diverted from the British stores in exchange for cash and sentences had now been pronounced.
Time out from surveying Al Mussayib 1943In those early days no master plan existed showing the layout of the installation and to remedy this deficiency I was quickly instructed in plane table surveying, a subject in which I had no previous experience. Jim and I spent weeks and weeks out in the sun wearing the pith helmets that had now replaced our cork topees, getting browner by the day as we toiled away with plane table, tripod, sighting rule and chain (well, we didn’t have a chain but we managed with a 100-foot steel tape), gradually building up a map of the camp to our superiors’ satisfaction. Just before this project was complete I was taken off for some other drawing office work. Not a great deal of real engineering work was done in the DO, mainly modifications to drawings to implement changes to armoured equipment; the six wheeledStaghoundseems to be the one vehicle I recall. But one must not forget the other onerous duties, keeping up to date all the pretty coloured charts and graphs in the Company Office so that the clerical staff could see how many soldiers they had, where they were and how many were sick. We also had the task of addressing the parcels that the commissioned ranks sent home to their families as we could print more neatly than they could and anyway it was beneath their dignity to do anything so menial.
I suppose that now would be a good time to explain the reason for our existence in that area. Between the two world wars Britain had been awarded by the League of Nations the mandate to govern Iraq and had military forces in the country, notably the RAF in its permanent station at Habbaniyah; naturally some Iraqis objected to this arrangement and caused a bit of trouble but their big chance came when Britain declared war on Germany. Under their leader Rashid Ali they tried to drive the British forces out. A major engagement occurred at Habbaniyah but the RAF personnel successfully resisted them. The early part of the war had not gone too well for the Allies and by 1942 Germany had advanced in North Africa to the borders of Egypt and in the east was on the road to Tiflis (now Tiblisi). It seemed that unless these advances were stopped which at that time appeared doubtful the two armies would join somewhere in northern Iraq and drive southwards taking control of the oilfields of Persia and Iraq. This would have had serious consequences for the Allies.
There existed at this time in Shaiba a very large ordnance establishment, No.1 Base Workshops which besides being well equipped to service tanks, guns and other military hardware also stored vast amounts of everything else an army required. For this reason it was decided to interpose No.5 Advanced Base Workshops between Shaiba and the advancing Germans. That’s why I was there. Fortunately the German armies were halted at El Alamein and Stalingrad so the personnel of No.5 ABW were later relocated.
Anyone who has worked in an engineering shop will recognise some of the sounds associated with various operations, for example a bench grindstone on being started up has a peculiar whine, very high pitched when top speed has been achieved; this is followed by a clatter as metal is presented to the stone. I heard this whine and then nothing. Why? I went over to this grindstone and saw a man grinding away at the sole of his gym shoe. The QM had issued an edict to the effect that no gym shoes (orshoes, canvas) would be replaced unless the soles were worn through. These shoes like so many other pieces of army equipment had been stored over a long period in the open air in the blazing sun and consequently their uppers had rotted. This lad had been left with a pair of fairly good soles but hardly any useful uppers and not wishing to fight the stupid edict, knowing he could not win, decided that he could beat the system.
The workshop compound was fairly deserted at night but the Company Office stood within it so night time pickets had to be supplied. The duties were negligible apart from lowering the REME flag at dusk and raising it again at dawn; there must have been a reason for this but it escaped me. The hours before bed were boring and lonely but looking around the place and viewing some of the documents was interesting. Apart from Army Council Instructions (ACI’s) there were other papers printed on yellow paper, applicable to Paiforce, whose title eludes me now. One item caught my eye, I can’t recall the exact wording but in essence it said, ‘If a soldier were to be executed then his next of kin should be informed that he died while on active service’. Technically correct I suppose but why not tell the truth? To spare the family pain and disgrace? Or to protect he system and avoid answering awkward questions? As Churchill remarked, “Truth is the first casualty of war.”
Drinking water supplied to the cooks was brought in daily in the evening in a two wheeled trailer that was then parked adjacent to the cookhouse ready for their early morning chores. Breakfast and evening meals were taken in the mess room in the camp but the mid-day hot meals were delivered to the various workshops by lorry; they were kept hot by being stored in ‘hay boxes’ forerunners of the present day coolers and these too were kept adjacent to the cookhouse. I mentioned earlier that there was a severe shortage of tyres among the Iraqis, many civilian lories could be seen on the roads, well loaded and carrying as many Arabs as could possibly hang on, with only on tyre on what should have been a twin wheel. The British had tyres and the Iraqis were envious. Arriving early one morning the cooks discovered a hole in the perimeter fence and the axle of the water trailer resting on two hay boxes. The two wheels and their tyres were missing. The hay boxes had been placed under the axle of the trailer and the sand scraped away beneath the tyres until they could be freely removed. We knew where the intruders came from because there was a small Arab settlement a quarter of a mile from our camp.
The gap in the fence was repaired and a watch kept; some days later another gap appeared and expecting another attempt at stealing an ambush was set up. Two REME personnel (I was one of them) armed with our SMLE’s and two privates of the Royal Sussex Regiment armed with Bren guns got into position after dark and waited for the intruders to appear. I wasn’t too happy about this because it could be the first time I had a human target in my sights. Fortunately for me and the possible intruders the Orderly Officer and the Orderly Sergeant came along in their jeep, stopped by the gap, illuminated it with their headlights, then got out and inspected it, thus warning any watching Arabs that we were expecting them. I was very glad when daylight came and I still had five unused rounds in my rifle.
Not all nights passed so uneventfully however. One unlucky guard on the last shift of his duty going from the guard room to awaken the cooks interrupted a robbery that was taking place in the cook’s hut. He was set upon and stabbed several times, he survived but the robbers escaped.
We were allowed leave on occasion, the nearest site for any sort of entertainment was Baghdad and we could take day trips there but could not stay overnight. When I first arrived there was still some residual hostility towards British troops and we were instructed to go around in twos and to wear side arms but this rule was later relaxed. A lorry was made available each Saturday and Sunday to make the somewhat uncomfortable journey into town.
Adjacent to our camp a mobile cinema put on films twice a week, these were mainly old ones that we had seen at home; with only one projector there was a pause as the Arab operator changed reels. Often he had difficulty with the numbering of the reels and this led to some interesting results, sometimes a murder would be solved before it had been committed. When such a mix-up occurred the restive audience would yell,”Get yer money ready, Shafto,” harking back to similar situations in WWI. Waiting for an audience to arrive an Arab stood with his wares, beautiful green grapes that he sold at 50 fils a pound, about the price of ten good cigarettes. Someone had obviously instructed him in Imperial measures and, “One pow-und.” he shouted as he weighed them on a primitive hand held scale using a railway spike as the nearest thing to a pound weight.
Besides being able to buy English cigarettes we could also get Canadian ones,Sweet Caporalbut not all favourite brands were available at all times. The army issued a free ration ofVictorycigarettes, a nondescript brand that were just about acceptable as a last resort and which were often given away to Arab civilian employees. We could get Palestinian beer and CanadianBlack Horsebut I never saw any British brands. Beer was rationed of course, I think it was two bottles per man per week and non-drinkers often used their rations for barter or for cash.
DESERT LIFE
The days passed slowly and routinely and the sweltering summer gave way to winter. Winter could not be described as being very cold but after the high temperatures the contrast was palpable. On six or so nights the water in the chatties would freeze and then we piled everything including our greatcoats on our beds and even then we sometimes shivered. Our huts were unheated but in some of the work huts primitive fireplaces were made. These consisted of two low brick walls 18 inches high, three feet long and about one foot apart. On top of these was a steel plate that carried a funnel at its front and a flue pipe at its rear; the funnel was fed through small pipes from two cans, one containing water and the other containing discarded engine oil. The two fluids dropped through the funnel on to a piece of pipe which caused them to splatter; oil soaked rags were used to start the combustion and then the flames quickly roared along under the steel plate and up the flue pipe. The heat was controlled by adjusting the flow of the fluids in the cans. Our small Drawing Office was so heated.
The office was also home to ants (small, medium and large) and red ants, mice, termites and temporarily to visiting hornets and scorpions. The termites built their tunnels of regurgitated wood fibre up one wall, along the insulated electrical wires and down the central wooden roof support to the nest that housed their queen. She was a bloated white creature. They were constantly building, repairing and enlarging the tunnels and nest. Red ants contested possession of this area and we watched the perpetual battles unfold.
Arab incursions into the workshop compound were a bit of a problem and in order to combat them the sergeant-major announced that the perimeter fence would be mined. The mines were really hand grenades, not the No.36 or Mills bomb but the No.69, a plastic cased type. I suggested to him that if he were to record their position then we could add the information to our map of the camp or record it on a separate map. He agreed. Off he went, several hours passed and then he and a couple of his accomplices returned. “Gimme the map.” he politely requested and I did so. Now the scale of the plan was such that the whole area covered a sheet measuring about four feet by three feet. He looked at it for a bit and then stabbing at it with his stubby forefinger he said, “We put one or two here, some about there and a few in this part ---- .” Relative to the scale of the plan his stubby forefinger spanned about 20 or 30 feet so his information was useless and we never did have an accurate record of the disposition of the mines. Presumably after the passage of more than 50 years they have been discovered, probably to the disadvantage of the discoverers.
Our OC had an unusual name, Bonallack that was often mispronounced as bonny-lack and to remedy this gaffe a notice appeared on Daily Orders to the effect that, ‘The Colonel wishes it to be known that in the pronunciation of his name the accent should be placed upon the penultimate syllable.’ Uncomprehending soldiers stood around the notice-board saying things like, ”Wot’s ‘ee mean?” or “Wot the ‘ell’s a penultimate syllable?” The kinder more knowledgeable types explained it to them. Of course this lesson was purely academic for as far as we lesser mortals were concerned we never had occasion to address him as other than Colonel or Sir.
It fell my lot one moonlit night to stand guard on the Officers’ Quarters and I clicked for the 6-8 and the 12-2 shifts. The first period passed uneventfully and not much was happening on the second shift; I was wandering about, looking at the moon and counting the grains of sand and longing for my bed when I heard shots nearby. Duty called and I hastened to the spot where I believed they came from. In front of me stood, or rather swayed, a Scottish lieutenant; I assumed he was Scottish as he was wearing trews but in the British army one can never tell. In the hand that he was slowly waving around was a smoking Smith and Wesson. “What’s up, Sir?” I enquired He continued to sway and wave. “Shnakes,” he said, “shnakes, there’s shnakes in my bed.” and he pointed. I followed his gaze to his bed that was out in the open since it was a warm summer night; his batman had made it nice and comfy for him complete with a tent type mosquito net. With my bayonet I gently raised the edge of the mosquito net and prodded the apparent corpse of the serpent; there was no movement; gaining confidence I approached closer to solve the mystery. The snake was in fact one of the tapes of the net, carelessly coiled on the pillow and he had put three bullets into it. I don’t think he believed me as I assured him that all was well, I left him gently swaying and went back to looking at the moon and counting the grains of sand.
There were some lighter moments in the desert life, near Easter time a day’s entertainment was usually organised, not quite a fairground atmosphere but something approaching it. A few more talented types showed of their skills on army motor cycles, some in trick riding and others in racing. One such fanatic was Johnny Lockett who after the war rode briefly for the Norton team until a crash involving a head injury persuaded him to retire from racing. The main event of the day however was theDonkey Derbywhere steeds were hired from local Arabs to take part in a series of races. A sort of auction was held in which bids were asked for various mounts; the successful bidders became the jockeys. Some sort of prizes, I forget what, went to the winners.
THE DONKEY AUCTION
THE DONKEY AUCTION
Humorous situations occurred as inexperienced soldiers tried to persuade their mounts to greater efforts or in some cases even to start. The outcome of one race manifested itself when that good old standby of military law Section 40 of King`s Regulations was invoked; Daily Orders informed us that one, No.732 Craftsman Smith, was charged with `conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline in that on the occasion of the Donkey Derby he did wilfully and cruelly goad his mount with a railway spike.’ Needless to say he didn`t win on either day. The day`s festivities were often rounded off with a concert given by the Band of the Royal Sussex Regiment. A civilian lady singer appeared so frequently with the band that she was made an honorary sergeant.
We were more than a little incensed to read a report in one of the British newspapers of one of the infrequent visits of an ENSA show. A female member was quoted as saying that ‘bacon and eggs are no luxury in Paiforce.’ Poor dear, she obviously had been a guest of the Officers’ Mess and didn’t know any better.
Fairly near Al Musayyib was the ancient city of Ur of the Chaldees, the reputed birthplace of Abraham. It had been discovered and excavated in the 1920’s by Sir Leonard Woolley; as with most deserted habitations in that land it first appeared to him as aTelor hill, rising up above the surrounding flat land. I visited the site with a group led by our padre. Woolley excavated one half of the site down to below ground level, carefully preserving and documenting all he found; below ground level he found a layer of silt that he thought could only have been laid by water and thus he concluded that it was evidence of the biblical flood of Noah’s time. I believe this theory has now been discounted. Below this silt layer were pieces of broken pottery and I picked one up. At that time it was quite a large part of the bottom of an unglazed earthenware urn but due to an unfortunate accident when my kitbag fell off a lorry I now have only a very small fragment. We wandered along the excavated streets that were bordered by low walls of sun bakedplano-convexbricks and marvelled at the state of preservation. Although the Romans are generally credited with its introduction there was, dating back to a much earlier period, a semi-circular arch still existing. In places one could see, outlined by bricks, the formation of the rooms of houses. In the nearby museum were plans showing how the city was believed to have been laid out, dominated by theziggurat.
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 intoThis 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 ofGlubb 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 thede factoruler 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 nameShaibacovered 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 ofNo, No, Nannetteon 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 ofsoldiers first and tradesmen secondinto 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
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 themgharriesand 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, ababoo,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
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 readVietato per soldati Italianithe 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 calledWadi Mahomadiwhere the only signs of habitation were our huts. After a good night’s sleep we set off the next morning forRutbahwhich 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.
Beirut, 1944Until 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 fromShaibafor 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 toShaiba.
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 atAn Nasiriyahwhere 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 acuscus 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 ofBlacker 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.
My rifle which in Britain had been extremely accurate was no longer so when I retrieved it in Iraq, perhaps it had had a bad sea trip, got banged around or otherwise warped but it was so much off that I checked the serial number to be sure; it was mine. To complete the course we hurled a few Mills bombs, fired a Bren gun, marched around a bit and behaved as soldiers were supposed to do and then we returned to our more sedentary duties. The commissioned ranks had also to be kept up to scratch and a series of tactical exercises was introduced. An assorted collection of craftsmen, NCO’s, a sergeant-major and a lieutenant was assembled one day together with their vehicles and other paraphernalia; they set off across the desert to a location that I believe was only a map reference. After two days the lieutenant had to admit that he was completely lost and so were they all. He was somewhat upset and said, “I feel terrible, I ought to shoot myself.” and the sergeant-major enquired, ”Then why don’t you -- Sir?” The suggestion was not taken however and a search party later led the group back to base.
Attempts were made to keep us occupied and clubs were formed. There was the musical appreciation group with its portable gramophone and limited records, the photographic club again with equipment scarcities, a current affairs program that naturally kept clear of politically sensitive subjects, while anyone interested could learn to drive an army lorry. One enterprising officer tried to revive an interest in calculus and actually collected a few members though how long the course lasted is anyone’s guess.
Attached to us were some Indian Army troops under British officers; the make-up was a little unusual, many of the soldiers had been temporarily released form prison on the understanding that if they served for the duration of the war they would then become free men. Most of their crimes were of a political nature, some included murder. They seemed to have an intense loyalty towards their officers and I encountered them in the following way; for our sports minded colleagues just kicking a soccer ball around wasn’t sufficiently satisfying, they wanted a regulation sized pitch marked out. The hard baked sand didn’t take paint very well but discarded engine oil could be used instead. Since I could measure with a steel tape and knew how to construct right angles using thethree, four, fiveprinciple and could count beyond 50 I was given the pitch proportions and told to get on with it. For help I was put in charge of six Indians who would hack out the narrow shallow channels with their picks along string lines that I had laid out and these they would fill with oil producing very dark lines. There were six of them all armed with picks and only one of me armed with an empty rifle. However I was told that they were quite harmless and could be persuaded to behave under the threat of confiscating their pay books which would have the effect of breaking their contracts resulting in their going back to prison. I had no trouble at all, in fact they were a cheery group quite happy to work.
In the army I came across quite a cross section of humanity, running the whole gamut of characters. I am reminded of a sergeant-major, a peace time regular, who discovered one day that things were missing from the Company Office; he decided to do something about it. In the office there was a large wicker basket used for laundry and into this he contorted himself pulling down the lid nearly shut so he could peep out and identify the thieves. He waited and waited but nobody came in because the word had got around; eventually he emerged very stiffly, defeated. Early one morning he had occasion to phone the captain; it was a wall mounted instrument, he took the receiver off its hook and stood rigidly to attention facing the mouthpiece; when the captain answered he snapped a perfectly smart salute and said, “Good morning, Sir -- I am now saluting you.” And then he carried on with whatever else he had to say.
I forget exactly how it came about but one time when I was in Baghdad I got roped in for guard duty, this time it was to watch over a prisoner. The prison was only a tent top surrounded with barbed wire and there was only one prisoner. It was all very informal, we chatted a bit and he didn’t seem to be at all concerned with his predicament. I asked him what he was doing there and he said that he was being charged with theft. “Of what?” I asked. “A jeep,” he replied. Apparently he had acquired a jeep and sold it to an Arab. “For how much?” I asked. “Four hundred dinars.” he answered. At that time the Iraqi dinar and the British pound were at par. He seemed to be quite happy, perhaps he had the money stashed away somewhere.
A new item was now added to our kit to improve our lot; to alleviate some of the discomfort and soreness around our shirt collars due to perspiration we were issued withscarves puggree,squares of light cloth, khaki coloured. This was the same material that was wound around the crowns of our pith helmets; some lads, fashion conscious, decided not to wear them in the accepted manner and this led to an order being issued to the effect that ‘Scarves puggree will be worn loosely around the neck and not in a triangular cowboy fashion.’
Most of us were classified in one of many trades but there were a few who were not tradesmen and they were classified asgeneral dutiesand they could be given any task not requiring any special skill. Three of these were attached to the Company Office where their main duty seemed to be making tea. A vacancy occurred in one of the workshops for a clerical type and I was ordered to take this job on a short term basis, for about three weeks. I didn’t jump at the chance, actually I didn’t think much of the idea but I went. The work was simple, checking parts in and out of the shop and took in total less than 30 minutes a day and it was boring, boring. The three weeks stretched into six weeks and eventually into ten weeks. I complained several times that the job could be easily done by ageneral dutiestype but was constantly fobbed off. After a while I asked to see the colonel and then the bureaucracy slowly slipped into gear, my request went upwards from rank to rank until at last an appointment was made for two weeks hence. The very morning that I was to see the colonel I was told to get back to the DO again. When I approached him after going through the rigmarole of marching in, saluting smartly and agreeing that I was indeed the soldier he thought I was he said,
“You have a complaint?”
“Yessir.”
“You want to return to the Drawing Office?”
“Yessir.”
“But I see you are back there already.”
“Yessir, this morning”
“Then there doesn’t seem to be any complaint now does there?”
“No Sir.”
“Now don’t think that your return has anything to do with your making a complaint, it’s purely coincidental.”
“No Sir, certainly not, Sir.” I lied.
“Dismiss.”
I did so, inwardly fuming at having to take part in this farce that could have been settled weeks before at a lower level and which would have saved the colonel from looking so foolish.
Opportunities sometimes allowed us to do something out of the ordinary and two of us asked if we could spend our two weeks leave in Teheran, in Iran. Strangely enough permission was granted and we set off in the evening crossing into Iran at Ahwaz. The journey took about 20 hours passing through Dizful, Khorramabad, Arak and Qum and countless numbers of tunnels through the mountain ranges before reaching Teheran. It was an interesting trip carried out in upholstered luxury. We were billeted in an army camp but were left to our own devices day and night. AfterShaibaTeheran was a lively bustling city; we did some window shopping looking at the Russian made Leica cameras that were much cheaper than but inferior to those made in Germany. There was a plethora of uniforms about of various branches of various forces of various countries not counting the wonderful uniforms of the cinema doormen -- quite confusing; I was saluted several times by Russian soldiers who were probably just as uncertain as I was.
I was caught out by a British major when I failed to salute him; he asked me where I was stationed and when I answered“Shaiba.”he enquired, “Don’t they salute officers there now? They used to when I was Provost Marshal.” I had not worn my greatcoat for ages when I was inShaibaand had not polished the brass but it was much colder in Teheran and I was now wearing it. He eyed the green brass buttons of my greatcoat with disapproval but let me off with a warning as he realised that I was on leave from that God-forsaken spot; I think he felt sorry for me.
We went to a cinema to seeBambiwhich I had seen before in England but this was different; the sound track was in English with French sub-titles and to one side a separate screen about seven feet square carried the dialogue in Farsi. It was just as well that I had seen it before because those who could read explained the film to those who could not and I could hardly hear the sound track for the constant babble.
Compared toShaibathe air was cool and crisp and my friend who was a bit of an amateur astronomer said that under the right conditions the planet Mercury could be seen with the naked eye and sure enough under a cloudless sky just after sunset we saw it quite close to the sun’s edge; I’ve often looked for it but I’ve never seen it since. The reason for our choosing Teheran as a vacation centre was that another couple of members of our group had gone there not long before and spoke of it approvingly; they had stayed a little longer than we and had climbed, or partially climbed, Mount Demavend that was about 19,000 feet high. We had no desire to copy them but spent the best part of a day walking northwards from Teheran seeing the wide open spaces apparently uninhabited apart from the occasional local who viewed us with interest and suspicion as to our intent. In the city one of the main sights was the railway station, an architectural gem that had been built earlier by the Germans. Being a carpet weaving centre there were all shapes, sizes, colours and patterns on display and also for sale, many laid out on the sidewalks to be walked upon by passers-by which surprised us. I wasn’t too certain about the sanitary arrangements but on many streets I saw open gutters running between the sidewalk and the road and there seemed to be ample water run-off from the northern highland. All good things have to come to an end and after two weeks we caught the train back to Ahwaz and thence toShaiba.
For entertainment we had radio programs relayed from Britain but we also picked up programs emanating from Ahwaz which was under American control.Rum and Coca Cola
sung byThe Andrews Sisterswas pounded out at least three times daily. Occasionally boxing was arranged between ourselves and the Americans to what we would call amateur rules, three three-minute rounds with a two-minute break between rounds, no referee in the ring but with the contests bring controlled verbally by an officer at ringside. The styles of the two countries differed and we considered ourselves lucky if we won three out of the ten bouts. Naturally we cheered for our own boxers but were appreciative of any American who adopted the more upright stance rather than the American crouch. There were frequent cinema shows and sometimes ENSA parties visited us on their tours of army bases; twice I recall going to shows given by touring Russian groups; though the language was unintelligible to most of us the types of turns given did not require any great understanding of Russian and their performances were first class. I usually went along fairly early to grab a reasonable seat and was frequently annoyed when I was dispossessed by late arriving superiors; on such occasions I sometimes returned to my billet to read a book or to go to sleep; I was fairly content in my own company.
The army would not be the army if we did not have visitations at times by the top brass. I don’t remember and I don’t think I ever knew who the officer was who came to inspect our installations; I wasn’t much interested. However the Machine Shop was set up to display our talents and virtually every machine was to be working, operators were called in from other jobs where necessary and Johnny Lockett was one such lucky one. Although he was a skilled man he had been put to work driving an internalgharriaround the base on trivial errands but now he was called in to stand by a machine that was honing the bores of cylinder blocks and he was doing just that when the top brass came by. The machine had been previously set up.
“And what’s going on here?” asked top brass.
“Honing cylinder bores Sir”.
“I see, and how metal are you removing?”
“Don’t know, Sir.”
“You don’t know! then what are you doing here?”
“Watching, Sir.”
“What’s your trade?”
“Precision grinder, Sir.”
“Precision grinder and you don’t know how much metal you’re removing?”
“No, Sir, I was just told to come here and stand by the machine. I don’t think it’s cutting anything.”
Johnny Lockett was not very popular with his superiors after that and I believe he went back to driving the internalgharri.
I think it was about July or August 1945 that I was transferred to Egypt, anyway while we were in transit we read that the Americans had dropped a super bomb on Japan and the consensus among us was, ”There they go, bragging again,” and we put it out of our minds.
We travelled in style this time -- to start with. After WWI two Australians, seeing the potential, had acquired some vehicles and started a company,Nairn Transport,to carry passengers and freight across the Middle East and our party was put on two of their air conditioned coaches to travel from Baghdad to Damascus. The routes had been well established by this time and the coaches left the metalled roads and went across the desert in a fairly straight line from point A to point B. I was in the second coach following the leader and for a while all went well; we kept a reasonable distance between us because our passage stirred up a whirl of loose sand. Of course it had to be our coach that eventually broke down; our driver honked and honked until he got the attention of the leader; consultations followed. By-and-by a tow chain was hitched to one of our front spring shackles and off we went. With no power we had no air conditioning and the heat became unbearable so we opened the windows. This was not a good idea because we were following close, a tow chain’s length, behind the other coach and we were in the minor sandstorm of its wake. Soon our sweaty bodies were caked with sand and the only respite came when the front spring shackle gave way and we ground to a halt. Repairs were made and the tow chain was re-attached, this time to the other front spring shackle. Many miles farther on this one also gave up the ghost and there were no more spare parts available for repairs, fortunately a small Arab settlement was close at hand. It was now night and we waited and waited until a relief coach reached us and took us uneventfully into Damascus. The next day we boarded the metre gauge railway train bound for Dar’a. My memory now fails me; I remember passing the southern end of Lake Tiberias and arriving at Haifa but I don’t know how I got there. From Haifa we took a train along the coast into Egypt, crossing the Suez Canal at El Qantara, finishing up eventually at another desolate spot, No.2 Base Workshops at Tel-el-Kebir.