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During the course my father died, Ernest John, and compassionate leave was granted, 6 days in all.

Privilege leave for the whole squad followed, 10 whole days and home for Christmas.

The course had ended and on returning learned that I had passed the trade tests for Class 11, gaining 95%. Roughly at the same time I was mustered and appointed Trade/Surveyor Class 111, to be paid as such and allowed to put up the surveyors badge, a ‘S’ in a laurel wreath, worn on the right fore-arm. The army expects Class 11 work for Class 111 pay, the first is subject to establishment in the regiment.

Embarkation leave took place 26.1.44 to 8.2.44.

A period of waiting followed, filled in with such activities as PT, a route march and a go at firing a 25 pounder field gun on the range.

Doris and I were in touch every evening, on the telephone at Durrington, Tuesday the 15th. February proved to be the last time.

Regimental titles taken off uniforms, we were confined to barracks and our pay was settled up. The waiting period had ended, an inspection by the Garrison Commander, followed by a full dress parade and in the afternoon we left Larkhill by train, for Liverpool.

At 10.00am. on Friday the 18th we boarded H.M.T.S Ormonde, a former luxury liner of the P & O Orient Line. A total of 1500 service personnel embarked after which the luggage was loaded. The vessel left Princes landing stage at 9.00pm, to anchor mid-stream further down the Mersey. Time was spent in settling down, boat drill and finding out where we were to eat and sleep, the latter in hammocks.

However, being warned for special duty, I found out that I had been selected as a mercantile gunner for ship’s defence, together with two of my squad friends. The guns were on the top deck. We signed on and transferred to crew’s quarter, thus evading army ‘bull’ and enjoying much better sleeping arrangements and food, and worth mentioning the crew’s canteen.

A ships watch is 4 hours on followed by 8 hours off, with an extra 4 hours dog watch thrown in at times to ring a time change. Clad in a duffle coat, tin hat and with a pair of binoculars, the duty was to scan a section of the sea and sky, give an alarm and report anything of an unusual nature, aircraft, ships or ‘U’ boat. My gun was an Orlicon Cannon, the gun position was very near the bridge and firing was only to be on command. Other types in the ship’s armament were Bo-fors and 6 and 12 pounders. Instruction was given by the regular ship’s gunners, how to load and fire and told to practise aiming by putting the sights on passing seagulls.

On Saturday night we moved, hugging the coast to the Firth of Clyde, escorted by a destroyer, and putting down the anchor on the Sunday afternoon opposite Dunoon. Ships to form a convoy were gathering including another fully loaded troop carrier, the ‘Monarch of Bermuda’.

There was a variety of merchant ships loaded with war supplies. The watch was stood down whilst at anchor.

The convoy moved out to sea next morning in some semblance of order, heading West, and being joined by a Cruiser and number of other Navy boats.

Our watch was resumed. At an average speed of 15 knots (13 m.p.h), 350 miles were travelled in 24 hours, on a zig-zag diagram. We slowed down at times for stragglers to catch up, merchantmen somewhat getting lost during the hours of darkness. No lights were showing on the ships.

The course was then set for due South and shortly afterwards unidentified aircraft were spotted on the horizon. The alarm was sounded, the black flag flown and all guns were put on ‘Action Stations’ — ready to fire. Fortunately the aircraft turned out to be friendly and we resumed our normal watch.

During the next day we passed well to the west of the Bay of Biscay and ran into a swell. We practiced ‘Action’ stations, the Monarch of Bermuda did some firing and many of our solider passengers had a rough time being sick.

A full scale firing practice took place the next day, all ships taking part, first the cruiser and the other Naval vessels, to be joined by the troop carriers and the merchantmen. We sent up high explosive, incendiary and tracer. It all sounded as though a private war had started. On our ship we got some return, in the form of a miniature ‘snow’ storm. The cotton waste bung had been left in the barrel of one of the heavier guns. On firing the bung went up in the air, disintegrated and came down in little bits, onto the deck. The culprit was one of the regular gunners.

The sea was still rough when we turned East in the direction of Gibraltar, but gradually we were beginning to feel the warmth of the African current. We had a further aircraft scare and were at Action stations for an hour but it passed.

The most dangerous phase of the journey then began, with added watches at dawn and dusk. A convoy had been bombed the previous week in the approaches to Gibraltar and through the Med.

In the dead of night we passed by the Rock and could see the lights on the Spanish side.

We docked in Algiers at 10.00am. on Wednesday, 1st. March, the guns remaining on the Alert while disembarking and off-loading was in progress. Just before the ship was ready to sail we said goodbye to our gunner friends and left the ship, next morning. Thus ended our brief spell of active service on the high seas, as amateur gunners. It is worth mentioning that the cast of the Broadway show ‘This is the Army’ was on our ship and were going out to entertain the troops. Very good singers, they entertained us with songs from the show and many others. The well known songs from the show were ‘this is the Army, Mr. Jones’ and ‘What aint we got, we aint got Dames.’

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