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NAVAL HISTORY OF G.T.H GREEN: RETURNING TO ACTIVE SERVICE IN ALGIERS

I left Tripoli heading for Algiers, which was my base. There was no transport laid on, I had to make my own way. The choice being by sea down the coast or over land on Army or RAF trucks, hitch hiking my way down. I did not like the idea of travelling by road because of bandits, German aircraft, and mines not forgetting the dust, heat, flies, etc with food and drink only when you could scrounge it.

Having made up my mind to go by sea I went down to the docks to find a ship travelling to Algiers. Luckily I found one immediately, it was an ordinary coastal tramp steamer, no luxury cabins but at least there was space to sleep, and eat. The food was not bad, by this time I just accepted whatever came along. The voyage down the coast was a bit hectic, the Germans and Italian bombers had a go two or three times to sink us, happily your "Pop" survived one more attempt to kill him off. I must apologise after all this lapse of time for getting my facts wrong. I will now try to put them right.

When I left the field hospital in Sicily, I flew to Tripoli in one of the old Dakota planes or Pioneers as we called them, and then came the journey ~ in the ambulance. It was my first time in the air and was thrilling but the comfort was nil. We sat on metal boxes, the noise of the engine and wind was awful. There were no safety belts and were scared still of enemy fighters. We would have been a sitting target for them. But as my previous paragraphs show we arrived safely in Tripoli. We were now entering Algiers harbour.

The sight of Algiers from the sea is beautiful. The city rises from the sealine to timbered hills in the background. All the houses are white and against the blue sky it was magnificent. I can see it very vividly in my mind, even after all this time. That was how it looked, when I had the opportunity to visit the place to go round the very small streets and back alleys which had not altered since biblical times. What did appal was the smell, it was awful, like a farmyard or chicken run. There was one street which was infamous throughout the Mediterranean: the street of a thousand brothels. It was an exaggeration of course, but there were a lot of them. What a filthy place, how low can human beings sink? That was the Arab part of the city, what the Arabs called Casba. The French part was very nice especially the French Rue D'Isley. All very modern shops with well stocked shelves. They did not know there was a war on!! As for me I ate something like six oranges a day, they were plentiful and cheap. However, I’m overrunning my story.

Having come ashore at the harbour I went along to the Port Wireless Officer and signed in explaining what had happened to me, my illness and having to leave my wireless truck and team in Sicily They knew nothing about me! If I had wanted I could have disappeared from the face of the earth.

After a long chat with him I was assigned a job in the dockyard repairing wireless sets and helping out on any ship which came into the harbour with problems. Although I had passed my exams for Petty Officer I had been officially ‘made up’. The Captain of a ship, or in my case, the dockyard had to be requested to do this. It was arranged for a certain day, there was me all dressed up in my ‘number ones’ (uniform with gold: braid) looking very ‘pusser’ (naval slang for very smart).

My time in Algiers was quite pleasant working in the harbour all day. We had the nights and weekends to either sunbathe, swim or explore the surrounding area. I had the use of the truck so we were lucky, it was like being on holiday. There was just the odd air raid to make us realise there as a war going on. During this time I was ordered to go aboard HMS Dian or HMS Penelope (they were at that moment in time two of the most modern light cruisers in the Navy). Apparently, the powers that be decided that I as a Petty Officer should have knowledge of the workings of the then, most modern wireless transmitters and receivers in the Navy. This I did, and luckily I managed to pass the examination afterwards. I was surprised, technical knowledge was not my strong point, although I enjoyed sending and receiving morse.

All this was marvellous, the sunshine, the swimming. I thought I could quite happily spend the rest of the war here. However, it was not to be. It all came to an end quite suddenly, and it was my own fault. The reason was, twelve of us Petty Officers were invited to the Army camp on the Spur. This place was on the very top of Algiers on the hills overlooking the city. To get to it there was a long winding road which went steeply uphill all the way, with very tight bends. I had asked the Port Wireless Officer if I could have the truck to transport us to the spur. He said alright so off we went. We arrived safely, but of course during the next few hours we all had a lot to drink. Some of my chums were so drunk we had to lay them out in the back of the truck, they .were "blotto".

About midnight we decided we had had enough. There were ten men lying inside the truck all "passed out". There was me and my "oppo" (slang for friend) who could just about walk. I was driving, just imagine if you can, a dark night, no headlights, no lights on the road and that winding downhill road to the city and too much drink inside me. A recipe for disaster. Away we started, going very slowly along a very rough pathway towards the main road. Happily the moon came out from behind the clouds and enabled us to see a little further ahead. The journey down the winding road was uneventful apart from the added scare of taking the tight corners too fast, and nearly going over the edge of the road, which would have been ~ fatal. However, we did get down into the main road of Algiers called Rue D'Isley. That is where our trouble started.

There were single tram lines running the complete length of the main road but every half mile or so, the track doubled for a few yards to enable the trams to pass each other. That is when it happened CRASH. I hit the side of the tram with the nearside bumper. Noone was hurt, just a dent in the tram. Had I been sober, I should have stopped and checked the damage, instead, I just raced away, anything to get away from the crowds of Arabs who had started to shout and throw stones at us. They were good at that. The next problem for my oppo and I was how to get ten very drunk Petty Officers back into the barracks without being caught by the Naval police. It was a crime for a R.O to be drunk so we had a problem.

I decided that I would drive to the barracks and see who was the Officer of the watch, some of them were quite tough, others were easy. We were in luck, the Officer was a very young inexperienced chap. I went into the entrance of the barracks and saluted him, as smartly as I could under the circumstances, and asked permission to carry ten Petty Officers into the barracks. He did not know what to do, but he gave me the OK to do this. I don't suppose he had ever come across a situation like that in his life. Nevertheless, he did, so we started carrying those chaps in one by one.

It took us about an hour to do this, we were shattered by this time and very sober. Then back to the harbour where we had to garage the truck. Then a walk back to the barracks. The time was then about 3.30 am. We all were a little scared about walking back. There were plenty of arabs who hated the British and we knew that if we were caught by a gang of them we would be dead, it was all very hostile. The night however was warm and calm. Now and again the moon would come out, it really was beautiful city in the moonlight. It made me think of your "Nan" waiting at home for me. It was a little tear jerking.

However, at long last we arrived at the barracks and straight to bed. We were exhausted and almost at once we were asleep. Little did we know what would happen the next day, otherwise we would not have slept so soundly. The morning came with the sound of the bugler sounding, although we were very tired we scrambled out, got dressed and shaved and walked down to the harbour office. We were met by our boss the Port Wireless Officer.

He was in a very bad temper, he gave me a real rollicking. He already knew of our escapade the night before. Apparently, an arab had taken the number of our truck and reported us to the Naval Police. He said he was going to send me immediately to Italy otherwise he would have to hand me over to the arabs to be tried in their courts. By the afternoon I was on board a ship heading for Taranto. It was a very pleasant voyage but I was a little upset at the sudden farewell to Algiers. I had made a few very good friends and unfortunately had not had time to say goodbye. However, that was how it was when you are at war.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of George Green and has been added to the site with his permission. George Green fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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