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Under canvas on the desert sands of Almaza to the north of Cairo, four of us to a tent, we received our postings to the Transit Camp at Mersa Matruh.

I caught a railway train to the war. I was lucky to be in charge of only fourteen men and sober while others had forty or so fighting drunk, but somehow we got them all into the cattle trucks without loss.

It took some sixteen hours to Mersa. We had to stop and scatter once in mid desert when a Stuka tried ineffectively to strafe us. We improved the occasion by getting hot water from the engine for a brew-up.

It took another three days to reach 30 Corps Advance HQ where we had to take cover smartly as a spectacular blitz was in progress. Hospitality in the desert was renowned and we were given a terrific breakfast of steak, sausages and potatoes.

Then miles across vile terrain in a ten ton Mac towards the ‘wire’ where we camped in the open for the first time, surprisingly crisp and cold under the starlit sky. The desert seemed a frighteningly endless expanse.

I began to feel nearer the action. The drone of planes coming over gave me the willies but of course one became more blasé with time. That initial journey up desert had an excitement I cannot recapture. Often the going was firm, almost like fine shale, with low scrub here and there, - good enough to accelerate to sixty when someone cried 'View, hallo' at the sight of a desert fox and we forgot the war momentarily for the thrill of the chase. Then vile terrain, lumpy with rock, - murder for the springs of our vehicles; and, of course, the dunes of soft sand where our rear wheel drive only vehicles got stuck so easily.

I joined C Battery 4 RHA part of Jock Column on 12th Dec 1941 near 'the Omars', some fifty miles inland. The column was ranging south of El Adem and Tobruk, then along the southern reaches of the Djebel Aktar, green and hilly [where I nearly went ‘into the bag’], to the other side of Benghazi for Christmas. This 'push' ended in the soft sands of Wadi Faregh near Antelat.

Near Wadi Faregh the tide turned and I had my first 'blooding'. G Troop was in action over open sights when I was detailed to take two quads forward - 'just make for the large column of smoke over the crest in front'. This was an ammunition truck burning and the gun position was still being shelled. I quickly said the Lords Prayer three times as some sort of charm, sent one quad to pull out the remaining gun and took the other past the ammo truck to a quad and limber stuck in the sand nearby. Shells continued to explode in the ammo wagon; a large piece of one bounced off the Major's armoured car where he was calmly smoking his pipe. Eventually he decided it was time to move out. My truck was trailed by 75 mm shells as we made our exit. I looked back to make sure that the BC and remaining quad were OK which they were though I do not know what I would have done if this had not been so.

It was on this withdrawal that we laagered one evening in an unforgettable place. The sand was moulded into strange shapes, its features and contours painted with the pink, grey and gold of the sunset ; it was an enchanted place, out of this world - not marked on our maps, just magical.

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