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Having been drafted off my ship HMS Volage, after servicing on her form some eighteen months and shared with her crew the aspects of war, duty an endurance, sailed the seas of calm and storm, I had to make way for others to board bound for HOME.

I found myself living ashore at NATCHEECUNDA, a naval satellite camp over the main runway of HMS Bambara (stone frigate) Fleet Air Arm Aerodrome (airfield) it had previously been R.A.F owned. Others from Volage and shops of the 26th destroyer flotilla, all in the same boat.

We were to live in wooden framed hut sides, roof of coconut palms with no windows or doors, just holes. Full of insects, camp beds with mosquito netting. Must remember to look in my bed each night for “SNAKES”, and getting up in the morning look in boots for “SCORPIONS”. Other than just monkeys, tree squirrels can do a wire rope act, so we couldn’t leave any food or chocolate (nutty) in a pocket of a tunic over the netting wire.

Outside we had to walk carefully, mongooses, armadillos, camelion lizards, choose the size of the spiders; there were many large and small. By the way all our clothes soon went mouldy, the monsoon season had started.

It was light work for me until I was hospitalised re the hernia operation. Some of us depressed waifs a strays were down at Dutch Harbour looking out longingly to see if the shops were still at moorings. A cry “Look they are moving: and sure enough all six ships of the flotilla were sailing out to sea. BOUND FOR OLD BLIGHTY SHORES. One of the worst days of our lives.

A week passed and I found myself with transport to Highflyer hospital. I was told which ward; there were five other matloes to have the same operation. I was met by a Scots ginger haired sister we named her Battleaxe, a no nonsense sister with do’s and don’ts (wish we hadn’t joined). We had to keep quiet and not chat too long with the nurses.

Waking up after the operation, we found that one of the party had a long stitched up wound on the outside of one leg. “Sister, why me? He cried. Sister advanced over to him stating that the surgeon needed a length of thin skin to sew all our hernias up. Some have all the luck?

Hospital life was slow to me, having been used to ship life, but then we had a visit from a dear lady who announced that we all had to do some embroidery and providing the materials. As Jack mends his own clothes and darns his socks it came easy to us, it became a race to see who could finish our given task first. The next time our lady came, there was no praise just here is a larger sampler, keep at it.

Good games amongst us with a pack of cards, whiled away the time also. Whilst playing one day, who should walk in Elsie and Doris Walters, Sister of Jack Warner, family stars of stage, radio and later television. They sat down and we dealt a round to them, before they departed to other wards in the hospital.

Four of us were going up in the hills of Ceylon (Sri Lanka) to convalesce. Great days, we shall miss Balltelaxe. Boarding a lorry with wooden seats along the sides, the Rolls were being used. Leaving Trincomalee behind, along straight roads, through plantations of coconut trees and past banda hut villages, whose people carried good on their heads or by bullock carts.

We go on for mile after mile before ascending up into the hills, coming to Kandy a provincial town, passing banda open fronted shops and some working elephants. At the lake by the Temple of the Touth, a Buddhist shrine, we stopped to eat our sandwiches.

Our native driver suggested that we might look around the Temple, himself being a Buddhist, he acted as our guide. We accompanied him around, seeing the yellow robed monks, we handed out some rupees for a blessing and joined in with the pilgrims that day.

Travelling up the hills an down winding roads with hairpin bends, which our driver raced around, we could see ahead (closing our eyes) to a bullock cart — near miss.

Coming to Newara Eliya, an old hill resort used in the past by British Raj Gentry, with many Victorian houses and hotels, the highest point in Ceylon. We were now in the tea plantation country. Passing through Bandawella, it was getting dark and the town was lit by oil lamps. On to Diyatalawa our destination. The next morning we awoke to see Cengalese Army Camp surrounded by tree covered hills all around us, our abode for a fortnight over Xmas and New Year 45/46

It was wonderfully cool up at the hill camp after tropical Trinco, though cooler at night. We could walk into the village, Souvenir shops, and Tea Cafes, who would put on a record, as they see you coming, of Vera Lynn “Somewhere in France with you” each time. The best cup of tea was at the Ceylon Government Rest Houses, of which there were many as we were told, the view from the lawn was wonderful.

We had several lorry trips out during our time there. To tea plantations, and many waterfalls, Dunhinda (Badulla) Rawan Falls near Ella Gap, Bamarakanda Falls and Diyatalawa Falls we were told to be the fifth highest falls in the world. We climbed a pathway to the top, finding water pools and dived in skinneing.

Xmas was enjoyable, good dinner and a beer. Twelve o’clock on New Years Eve, many native huts had a fire, we could see the flames dancing into the faces of all the families, banging a rhythm on drums most of the night, it must have been a local festival.

Taffy, Welch and myself had been prompted, now that I was back at Natchecunda. Detail was C.P.O and P.O’s Messmen, no more general duties or taking orders, or trying to kill time on some menial jobs, we will be our own masters.

Our duties comprised one day on, one day off, each taking turns. Under us will be eight local native boys to be waiters at the dining tables in CPO and PO messes. Number one boy (Ecki) one day, number two (Deci) next who we work with giving orders.

On our day on, we oversee duties for breakfast, mid day dinner, tea and cakes at 16.30/4.30pm, supper 18.30/6.30pm. Just one other duty to brush and iron two snooker tables.

PO’s live in double cabins; Taffy and myself have same, also constructed of palm leaves. No lights out at 22.00 hrs, we please ourselves, with access to much food and tibs, neaters Rum, as P.O’s are entitled to bigger beer ration. Standing on duty on day, just before and shortly after each meat to see all is tidy.

Weeds went by, Jan moved into Feb, so many of us RN personnel still out in Trincomalee, just waiting for a berth back to the UK.

I was getting expert at snooker and had a cue in my hand most days. Sailing dinghies down at the Lagoon for our use. Playing Solo Whist all through the night sometimes.

Taffy would swim under water at times. Which infected his ears, and would go raving mad for ten minutes after we got back to the cabin. I found the only way to quieten him was to wrestle him down on the bed and sit on him.

Buzz would go around Natchecunda that we would be going home soon; March and April came and went.

Patrick one of the boy waiters, started to lark about so I told him off. He grabbed a kitchen knife to have a go at me; quick as a flash I jumped into him before he had the knife off the table and taking it away from him. I had much respect afterwards from Patrick.

We had some E.N.S.A concerts and films down at Dutch Harbour once a fortnight. Taffy got his draft back to the UK, one less duty, to sit on him. His relief had been a pastry cook before joining R.N, wonderful cakes to be had.

Staying in the waiter boys hut, was a small boy of about nine or ten, I didn’t know if he was a relative of one of them, He would follow me if I had to get supplies, or to order some, he answered by the name of “Cheeio”. Once walking with me he shouted out “Look Master, white men”, two sailors just out from the UK, I thought had I been out here that long and “Gone native”.

We all were getting chocher, fed up at not getting a draft home. Frustration taken out by some, who burnt the camp canteen down, a free for all, ever the R.N fire crew were getting at the beer.

June 10th my twenty-first birthday. I had no mail for a month, had the British Government and the Admiralty forgotten we were here. That day at up spirits, mid day, I was invited down to the old shops mates hut for sippers of their rum, from about a couple of a dozen of them plus my own, I could just about make my bed. Lads woke me at 6.30 to booze again; on a sore we had saved. I did feel really depressed that day.

It’s come; it’s come, my draft for going home to the UK. I said my last goodbyes to the unlucky ones. I boarded a train at Trincomalee, travelling through the night to Colombo, on wooden seats that were hard to sleep on.

Arriving at Colombo Station the next morning, there was no transport and I had to carry my hammock and kitbag to the docks, motor launched out to a fleet carrier HMS Formidable, converted to trooping, I was told 2000 naval personnel aboard. We are sailing home. Going down into the plane hangers, now rows of three tier bunks plus mess deck tables and stools, I met fellow passengers all with smiles on their faces.

Soon after sailing a chit arrived for me to present myself on the flight deck. I could see we had lost sight of land. On the deck were five new USA fighter aircraft, three Hellcats and two Corsairs, we were told to push these off the flight deck and into the sea. Twenty of us had to push the planes over one at a time, I was thinking to myself, look out not to go over with these planes. We were told that if the Royal Navy did not want to pay for them, as on lease lend, they had to be ditched.

Days were monotonous and long on the journey, must find something to do to keep from getting detailed to scrubbing decks. I acquired some waste rags and metal polish, and found three brass plates out board of the flight deck, cleaning same and walking around the ship talking to other seamen. Then cleaned plates again and walking again, I must have cleaned the plates ten times each day.

Going through the Suez Canal and anchored ship in Bitter Lakes. Hands to bathe, Officers and WRNS aft, rating forward gangways. It would be good to have a swim; I presented myself on the flight deck to go down one of two gangways port side, there must have been several hundred hoping to get a swim.

I would never get into the water; have to jump, so I did, from the flight deck. Plunging into the lake, down and down I went. I thought would I ever get up, breaking surface I saw the gangway was still crowded. After a swim, on seeing the gangway clear now was the time to get out, before the rush.

Forty years on I met ex sailor, who being of the ships company, told me that two swimmers were drowned, though a picket boat was launched that day.

Arriving off Gibraltar, on anchoring the tannoy stated no shore leave, Officers only. Another chit arrived in mess deck for A.B. Mills, presenting myself I was told I was going ashore as Naval Police Patrol. Ships boat alongside, Officers in boat last, first out. Petty Officer in charge explained our duties, being eight we would march up and down the main street in columns of twos. After an hour the two rating at the back would put their white belt plus gaiters up their jumpers and disappear for twenty minutes for a beer. Joining the front of the patrol, the next two at the back go also and have twenty minutes, repeating for all member of the patrol, leading seamen standing in for me after. So it was we few did get ashore plus a couple of beers each.

Catching the ships boat back to Formidable, arriving at stern first for Officers to board, one was drunk and who fell in the Ogin (sea). We didn’t volunteer to help him, that’s for his fellow Officers. Would have been brave if on his own, perhaps a medal.

Sailing into Plymouth Sound, how green and pleasant the land. Had to put a jumper on, though early September it felt cool after the tropics for eighteen months. Happy faces, there must have been a 1000 going ashore here.

Up anchor and full steam ahead for Pompey. Another chit for A.B. Mills to muster on the foc’sale for duty going into harbour and securing ship to jetty, rig of the day overalls.

Passing South Parade Pier, Clarence Pier, nearing harbour entrance and feeling good. Henry VIII Tower still M.O.D so no flags waving or anybody there to notice our homecoming. War had been over for a year, who cares, just another R.N Ship.

Coming alongside of jetty at Pompey Dock Yard, I am busy throwing a heavy line for dockies to heave wire hawser attached and putting loop over bollard, us on fos’ale pulling hawser and making fast around ship bollards. Seamen likewise at mid ship and down aft. Captain gives order “Finished with engines”. We are home I said to myself.

Still some work to do on fos’cale, I glanced down on the jetty, there must have been a 100 people down there, cheering, the gangway down and they were coming aboard. Surely my parents don’t know I am on board, I haven’t had a letter for two months, and there was no time for me to write before boarding Formidable.

Passing others meeting their loved ones, I considered going down below for a cup of tea, must take my cuppa on the flight deck for a stroll.

NO IT CAN’T BE, “Hello Mum and Dad” as they walked towards me. “How did you know I was on board”, “A letter from the Admiralty”, but we have been looking for a sailor in uniform and not in overalls” They told me that all the family and friends were OK. I said that I should be home on leave tomorrow. The next day I had a rail pass, 21 day foreign leave, kit bag plus hammock on lorry for storage. Customs, with so many of us, just asked if we had Jap swords or knifes and then let us go.

How do I describe walking across the fields as before, as was WALKING ON AIR. A white ensign flag was flying on our house for me, a great welcome from everyone and especially from my old dog.

Opening the parcel that I was carrying and showed my mother and sister the silk and taffeta rolls of cloth from Penang and jewellery from Ceylon, which was well received as my sister was getting married shortly. Silk and taffeta was unobtainable in England and still clothes and food were rationed.

Catching up with news of relatives and friends, that have been demobbed from the Army and RAF, though same age group as me. No blackouts, Home Guard and Civil Defence.

21 days fly by, reporting back to Portsmouth I enquired if my demob number should be coming up. Just a stare, am I looking for the crown jewels! The next day rating names called out for working parties, not Lofty Mills. One day walking around barracks with a broom was enough for me. I asked that evening in the barracks room “What’s the best working party”. “Brown Down” was the answer from new recruits.

So the next day I jumped on the lorry for that duty. The job was clearing up old war defences. The P.O in charge must have realised that I had some sea time in, he appointed me in charge of issuing lunches and making tea, which lasted all day. A week passed, time I presented myself at the Divisional Office again.

“We have been looking for you?” “I have been here a week!” I said. “You are to be demobbed tomorrow”. The day I have been waiting for had come. I handed in the hammock and empty kit bag. Got transport to old garage at Fratton for civy clothes, rail chit, £60 gratuity and £60 prize money. I was rich. I boarded the train home.

I am Lofty A.B. Mills PIX522568

No more.
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