´óÏó´«Ã½

No potatoes only rice cakes

The Samstrule remained in the Mediterranean following the invasion of southern France. Stores had become low, and the ship had run out of potatoes. The crew had to subsist on rice cakes for a couple of weeks, until its arrival in dry dock in Alexandria.

On my first night ashore I went straight to the main shopping centre of Mohammed Ali Square, where I treated myself to a mixed grill with plenty of potato chips and two large glasses of milk. Ship’s milk, always made up from milk powder, was chalky and tasteless, so this was a real treat.

A bottle of Christmas cheer

On Christmas Eve, 1944, the Samstrule arrived in the port of Haifa in Israel (Palestine, as it was then). A directive from the ship’s charterers, Elders and Fyffes, instructed that each crew member was to be given two bottles of beer together with the company’s compliments and season’s greetings.

I was somewhat aggrieved, however, when I received only half the ration. After all, I was over 18. When I complained, the chief steward who was making the issue told me Captain Jones considered me too young for beer. None the less, out of kindness, he had decided I should be given one bottle.

I pointed out, in vain as it happens, that the deck boy, who was younger than me, had been allocated two bottles. I was quite certain in my own mind about who it was who had taken my second bottle of beer, but I never did get to the bottom of it.

Protection against bubonic plague

After lunch that same day, the crew was told that before any shore leave passes could be issued, everyone had to be injected against bubonic plague. To this end a Jewish doctor came aboard, and the crew lined up outside the officers’ mess for their jabs.

I noted the needle the doctor was using to be unusually large. The steward, who was immediately in front of me in the queue, fainted when he saw it and collapsed on the floor. The doctor simply bent down and injected him there and then before he had time to recover.

On seeing this, another steward flatly refused to have the injection. As a result, he was confined to ship during the six days we were in Haifa.

My swollen arm

The following morning was Christmas Day, and I resolved to go to church. I set my little alarm clock in order to get up in time.

When I awoke, my left arm, the one in which I had been injected, was swollen. I couldn’t raise it above the horizontal. I had to dress, to put on my No. 1 uniform, with a white shirt and starched collar and tie, with considerable difficulty. Nevertheless, in spite of the pain and a certain degree of suffering, I succeeded and left my cabin to set off down the gangplank and on to the quay.

Alongside the ship with four funnels

Immediately astern of the Samstrule was another British ship, either the Princess Kathleenor possibly the Katherine). In any case, although smaller in tonnage than the Samstrule, it was an elegant ship, designed specifically for passenger cruising in the years before the war. Its distinctive feature was its four funnels.

As I was walking ashore, simultaneously, down the gangplank of the other ship came the assistant purser, also in his No. 1 uniform. ‘Hallo,’ he shouted cheerily, ‘are you going to church?’ When I replied that I was, he asked if I knew where it was.

I had to confess to him that I did not, though what I did know was that the church was called St Luke’s and located in Mountain Road. Fortuitously at this point I spotted a taxi, some distance away. A shrill whistle from the purser turned the cab round, and it came over to the quayside to pick us up. The driver, who was a veritable mine of information, chatted to us throughout the journey.

A communal act of worship

We arrived at the church at about 7.30 in the morning. The service, attended by about 16 people, was taken by the elderly priest in charge. It was the traditional Book of Common Eucharist with a short sermon and lasted about 45 minutes.

The taxi driver was obviously aware of the exact length of the service and arrived right on time, just as the service ended, to pick us up again and ferry us back to the ship. On the dock, that morning in 1943, the purser and I, having shared our Christmas worship, parted company. I was never to see him or his ship again.

Read Samstrule: The Great Invasion and Samstrule: Its Tragic Outcome, also by Warwick library user 3.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.