大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Vijiha Bashir, at 大象传媒 Scotland on behalf of Joseph Sacharin and has been added to the site with the permission of Johnstone History Society. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

From Auckland Railway Station, I took the Rotorua train to Hamilton, which took about 3 hours. I then took a bus to Cambridge where I was met by a Mrs. Hyde, who drove me to her neighbours farm Hora Hora, about 14 mikes from Cambridge. This farm belonged to Mr. &Mrs. Judd. Mr. Judd, an Englishman, was in the British Army during the First World War. After the war, he emigrated to New Zealand. He built the farmhouse himself, and as apparently was very common in Australia and New Zealand; there was an outside dry toilet. This was a small wooden structure on top of a hillock about 100 yards or so from the hose. There was no light, and a plank with a hole in it was supported at its ends on wooden blocks. Under the planks was a drop of about 20 or 30 feet. This structure was called a 鈥淒unny鈥�.

Mrs. Judd was the daughter of Missionaries in the South Sea Islands. In the hall, there was a small but fine collection of native spears and shields from Polynesia (Melanesia or Micronesia, I can鈥檛 remember which.). The Judd鈥檚 had a son and a daughter. The daughter was a school teacher in one of the nearby towns. The son was slightly mentally retarded, but he was very good with animals. Whenever he stepped out of the house, he was always followed by a little lamb, which he raised from birth when its mother died. Breakfast was usually porridge and meat. The porridge was a solid block, kept in a wooden drawer, and Mr. Judd would cut slices and pass one round to each person.

He took me to the nearby towns of Tirau and Putaruru where we visited a milk processing factory and a butter factory. The neighbour, Mr. Phil Hyde, took me to Rotorua, south west of Lake Rotorua (also known as Crater Lake), where there were hot springs, spouting geysers and boiling mud pools. The air was very warm there was an almost overpowering smell of sulphur. We also visited Fairy Springs, where the fish could be hand fed. They would swim by and take food from one鈥檚 fingers or form the palms of one鈥檚 hand. On the road back, Mr. Hyde stopped at a small manhole, lifted the cover off, took a kettle of warm water from the car, and boiled the water on the issuing steam. Further on, we stopped at Arapurui Dam, and I was shown round the Hora Hora Power Station, and so back to base.

I did help a little with the sowing and milking, and also did some horse riding. All in all, it was an interesting and most enjoyable week. Back on board 鈥淎lacrity鈥�, I wrote to Mr. & Mrs. Judd and Mr. & Mrs. Hyde to thank them for their hospitality.

After leave, I returned to Auckland. As I was due for demob, I took passage on HMS 鈥淎methyst鈥�, a sister ship of 鈥淎lacrity鈥�, which was involved in the Yangtze incident, and received a lot of publicity at the time. At Sydney I went on board the USS 鈥淕eorgetown Victory鈥�, which, we were told, would take us to Falmouth. We stopped at Fremantle, the port of Perth in Western Australia. We were allowed ashore and I went to Perth for a quick look round. Our next stops were at Colombo and Aden

After 35 days at sea, at midnight on the 30th April/1st May 1946, there was a tremendous crash and it felt as if the ship was going up stairs and we were all thrown out of our bunks. I ran on to the upper deck and, looking over the side could see what looked like grass. There was an announcement to say that there was no immediate danger, and that we should stay on board until the tide came in, when we would be taken ashore. What had happened was that the ship had run aground at Killard Point in Northern Ireland, although it was a very clear night and there was night flying form Bishopscourt airfield nearby. The food on board, for the passengers, was appalling. We had tomato juice and spaghetti almost every day, usually with a slice of bread with cheese and jam, while the American crew had proper meals, as we saw some of the crew carry chickens and meat across the deck. There was a 鈥渂akery鈥�, which was really a food store, and was guarded by a Royal Marine. When all the lights went out, two shipmates and I broke into the bakery and took what we could find, by torch. This consisted of a packet of corn flakes and a loaf of bread.

In the morning, when the tide had come in, we had too climb down the side of the ship with our cases on our backs, into a small boat with an American sailor at the tiller, to take us a few yards to the land. Our kit bags were in the hold and were all lost. There were about 1200 passengers (mainly seamen, going home to be demobbed) and a fleet of army trucks took us to Belfast, where we had a meal. We were taken to the port, where we embarked on a landing craft, LCSC 鈥淧rincess Iris鈥� (Landing Craft Stern Chute) and taken to Glasgow, where a special train was to take us to the three Naval Bases (Portsmouth, Chatham and Devonport. As the train had not yet arrived, I managed to get a taxi, went home, left my case, and straight back to King George V Dock, and got there just when the train arrived. On arrival at Portsmouth (my base), we were re-kitted and then back home for 14 days survivor鈥檚 leave.

On arriving back at Portsmouth, I was told that I was to take part in the Victory Parade in London on the 8th June. We practiced marching for a few days and then went to Kensington Gardens, in London, where we lived in tents. At the actual parade I was in the Naval Contingent which was leading the British forces.

After that I was eventually demobbed. Sometime later I received an official photograph of the Naval Contingent in the parade. There was a single Officer immediately in front of the Contingent. It so happened that he had been my Commanding Officer on the 鈥淣ubian鈥�. A few years later I visited my brother in Belfast and we went to Killard Point. The ship was still there, it鈥檚 back broken into three pieces. Sometime later the press reported that there was a Court Martial. The Captain had been drunk (it was his last voyage, in more ways than one) and I think he was dismissed with ignominy.
I was lucky to get some photographs of the standard ship from the press, from the Irish papers (from my brother, Wolfe Sacharin O.B.E., F.R.I.C.S., Director of Building Services N.I.) and a lot of information from the National Maritime Museum in London, and in one of the photographs I am shown stepping into the small boat. Interestingly, and by a strange coincidence, all my Commanding Officers had double-barrelled names: Captain Otway-Ruthven RN (Force J2) Lt. Commander Pack-Beresford RN (HMS 鈥淣ubian鈥�)
Lt. Commander Clutton-Baker RNR (HMS 鈥淎lacrity鈥�)

The war was tragic and horrendous and millions were killed, wounded and bereaved. I was one of the lucky ones having travelled widely and visited places that I would never otherwise have seen. I did have my hearing quite severely damaged and this was recognised by the War Pensions Directorate of the Department of Social Security. As a result of this I received a War Disablement Pension (actually a Gratuity, i.e. a single lump sum payment). However, compared to others, I was extremely fortunate.

This story links to Part 1 of the story 'Wartime Experiences of Joseph Sacharin PART 1'(A9022862)

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