大象传媒

I was born in Masjid-i-Sulaiman, Khuzistan, Persia (now called Iran) in December 1939. My father was a Petroleum Engineer working for the Anglo Iranian Oil Company (now BP) and my mother had been a Nursing Sister at the hospital provided by the company for staff and locals.

My father told me that the men were not allowed to leave Persia to go home to join up in the Armed Forces, they were vital for the continuous flow of oil to the refinery at Abadan and from there via tankers to the UK or wherever needed. However, if the order came to abandon the wellheads, pipelines and refinery they would have to blow them up or decommission them and if this was done by civilians it would be deemed sabotage and they could be shot as spies. So he and others were commissioned in the Royal Engineers just in case!

In those days companies did not give their staff yearly home-leave, you had local leave and then, maybe in 5 years or so you got a ticket home. Because of the war my father missed out on his due leave in 1942 鈥� he had married my mother by then and I had arrived so he arranged that we had a holiday in Kashmir. I have to say I don鈥檛 remember any of this, the ship, the train (the blocks of ice fitted under the floor of the carriage for cooling, the trays of food for meals at various stations en route), nor the wonderful holiday at Gulmarg up in the mountains of Kashmir. However, when the time came to leave there was no room for the 3 of us on the ship, so my father put us into a hotel in Bombay and he went back to work. Some time later there was space for us and my mother told me how one night she came on deck for a cigarette (not wanting to fill our cabin with smoke) and a voice from the darkness said don鈥檛 light that and keep quiet. It turned out there was a submarine in the Gulf 鈥� I now can鈥檛 remember exactly whose it was, I think Japanese 鈥� and they didn鈥檛 want to attract any attention!.

We got back safely to discover that there had been serious alarms at the news and all the women and children had been evacuated up into the hills while we had been in Kashmir.

We spent the rest of the war there (my brother was also born in M-i-S) and my mother and her friends joined the Women鈥檚 Institute and knitted for the troops (there was a special pattern book which was very specific about what was and was not acceptable). They organised fetes, dances, bazaars, to raise money which was sent home to help with the war effort 鈥� the goal was for enough for a Spitfire! They listened to the 大象传媒 when the static let them and tried not to be taken in by the 鈥渓ovely鈥� Tokyo Rose who broadcast such lies about what was happening out East.

Letters from home were a great joy, but one of my grandmothers never did understand about the censor! Regularly my mother read 鈥淒earest Li,鈥� and 鈥淵our loving Mother鈥� and in between the two was line after line of thick black ink! Afterwards my mother learned about the bombing in Scotland and the fate of the docks and so on.

We came home when the war in Europe ended 鈥� but it was not a simple route. First a plane to Abadan then another to Syria I think, then to Cairo and then a long wait (so I have pictures of us by the Sphinx and the pyramids) until it was our turn to get into a seaplane across to Marseilles and then train and then boat to Southampton and then train up to Scotland where there were not enough seats but two soldiers gave up theirs to my mother and me 鈥� 鈥淵ou鈥檝e been away from home longer than we have鈥�.

That was a nice memory but she said she鈥檇 always feel badly about the greengrocer in Glasgow who shouted at her when she asked for a pound of tomatoes 鈥� 鈥淎 pound! Where have your been all this time asking for a pound鈥� 鈥� she said 鈥淚 never thought about quantity, I was so pleased to be back home doing the messages and they looked so nice.鈥�

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