大象传媒

Saturday, Jan. 29th, 1944

Saturday afternoon was spent washing clothes. The storm of the previous day has subsided to a minimum and sea is as calm as a millpond. No sun and chilly on deck. Washed clothes in cold water. Natives (crew) charge 6/- for a set of washing. Charge a shilling for haircuts. Lascars are of a queer mixture and one does well to avoid contact with same. Theft their second name. Treated as inferiors by white crew and though hate to admit it this procedure is best. At sea still, and have been now fifteen days on our voyage. Rumoured we shall see Port Said in the morning. There is to be a church service in the morning. Wonder if we will be going to church tomorrow. Tomorrow will then be three weeks since I saw home (on the day I slipped off from camp to go home). Seems ages since. Mail to be taken off tomorrow it is rumoured. Hope so, as I've handed in five letters to Olive, four to Dad, two to Olive's mother and several to friends.

Sunday Jan. 30th, 1944

Gazed out of porthole at 8.00am and noticed the blue sea had changed colour to a sandy brown. Looking forward there was to be seen, the outline of Port Said on the skyline. A sight welcome to our hearts. As we drew nearer, the Pilot came on board and we sailed down the deepwater channel that leads to the harbour. On each side of the channel were breakwaters with anti-aircraft defences mounted upon their solid structure. Noticed several derelict ships half submerged in the outer harbour - remains of once commercial bound merchantmen now barely visible to the world, except at low tide, - straining to assert their mere existing presence and prove that at least their last resting place had not been immune from air attack. Port Said waterfront drew nearer and along the beach, which stretches on both sides of the entrance to the world famous Suez Canal, the picturesque buildings of white and tan were displayed proudly against a deep blue skyline; bathed in brilliant sunshine. On one side of the entrance to the canal one could see the residential quarter; elaborate mansions, mosques, red and gold contrasting with bleached white - dazzling to the eye. The scene had to be seen to be believed. Contrasting with the wealth and beauty was the dirty grey of the commercial quarter on the other side of the canal. Ships of all nationalities loading and unloading their cargoes. The once fine ocean liner, of a name now unreadable, still rested at anchor but was seen to be entirely burnt out. A hollow shell of decrepit age, still announcing her fate to the eyes of the passers-by. The sight was pitiful and one felt sorry at least. However, we were now passing down the entrance to the wide canal. Little native vessels were buzzing like bees around the harbour. Dressed in blue, red and green baggy trousers the natives bustled along the canal side while behind them a huge sign assured us that " Johnny Walker was born in 1820 and was still going strong". "Craven "A" didn't affect the throat" and that "Capstan were blended better". A Chinese school stood next to a palatial hotel while what appeared to be toy tramway cars scuttled through the narrow streets, leading up to the canal side, like tame white mice. Cars were of American type.
We had the first taste of the East and we liked it. Perhaps it was due to the fact that we鈥檇 been, what seemed an age, at sea, and that gave everyone the feeling of high elation to be so near land.
The ship slowly passed along beside the numerous dockyards, petrol dumps, lines of tents which we first thought were pyramids. It was all very exciting and breathtaking. Eventually we passed along to the bare canal - no rubbish was dumped overboard now. On each side of the canal ran a roadway on which motor vehicles and Army lorries hurried in each direction. Telephone poles bore wires that gave a design to the now sparse vegetation. No more palm trees or shrubs, but a tramtrack railway line completed the picture broken by an occasional gun pit manned by the Camel Corp. Grotesque animals are camels. Their aloof snobbish head held stolidly to the front as they walked-perhaps glided along encouraged by their native master who alone seemed to know the way.
For some reason the ship tied up to the bank. A wind had sprung up. Soon a full gale blew and the sky became overcast. It was obvious then that the ship had tied up due to the fact that the terrific gale brought the danger of being blown into the bank. I鈥檝e never known such a gale and the ship had a heavy list.
We remained tied up for the remainder of the day. In the evening the gale had subsided and as smoking is now allowed on the deck at night several of us climbed upon deck to have a breath of air. It was then we had our first conversation with anyone not on board. It appeared a Cockney driver was on the roadway and pleasantries were exchanged from boat to shore until stopped by an officer on board on grounds of security. So ended today and tonight as we prepare for bed each one of us carries a picture in his mind (there are no women on board except a cat) of Port Said. The beauty of the East - gateway to the Suez Canal, but each would willingly exchange all the beauties of the East for a glimpse of his hometown; whether a village home, or a smoky dirty town. Those are our thoughts as we sleep tonight. Land has brought thoughts of home nearer to us and made us think of how we鈥檒l tell the story around the fire when we get back. The night air was cold and now in the warmth of the ship we feel drowsy. Suez Canal is neutral water - no gun crews on duty.

Monday Jan. 31st, 1944

Just before dinner we started along the Canal again. Why we remained tied up after the gale dropped is a mystery the Captain alone can fathom.
Today we鈥檝e anchored in a Lake halfway through the Canal. The Canal in length is only 80 miles but we rest at anchor again tonight after only four hours travel today. Land, sand and more sand, hills after hills of it on either side of us broken by occasional encampments of troops along the banks. Stray native craft and ferry boats at Army camps are our only companions as we pass along. Now at anchor in the centre of this lake we experience the coldest atmosphere we鈥檝e encountered since we left Liverpool鈥檚 rainy dismal dockside.
I lost my position as cook鈥檚 assistant today along with my colleagues and we returned to the messdecks. This was due to the Chief Officer of Signals decision that we should undergo refresher training. I am chosen to lecture on Electricity and Magnetism to a crowd of signalmen. Mess deck food and conditions shake us after the privacy and comfort of our cabin. It can鈥檛 be helped though. Lectures to continue for the rest of the voyage. Felt rather depressed and wrote to Dad this evening. Wish I was home and with all my friends.

Tuesday Feb. 1st, 1944

This morning we once more set off on our journey along the canal and at 11.30am we entered Suez. Suez-morally and physically the lowest and filthiest port of the world.
The SS 鈥淢ajora鈥� drew majestically into harbour passing down two channel-ways where along the quayside one saw the gaily-coloured robes of street hawkers, beggars and veiled women. Standing on the waterfront as we past were two girls - one a WREN and her companion a dark-haired girl in European clothes. They were the first English, or European dressed women we鈥檇 seen for over a three thousand mile journey. I think we all fell momentarily in love with them and we cheered; they hung their heads and past out of our sight around the corner of a block of European shops.
We anchored in the Bay and within half an hour oil tankers came by to replenish our oil supply. Our mail was taken off and we loaded up with Indian mail. At this time I鈥檇 written five letters to friends and four to Dad. Two to Olive鈥檚 parents.
Native boats drew near and their occupants begged cigarettes, chocolate, coins-filthily clad were the scavengers, greedy as young puppies and spiteful as kittens - fighting amongst themselves for coins which some fellows dropped into their boats.
Others attempted to sell us cheap leather goods, handbags, wallets, etc at exorbitant prices. No one bought anything and soon they returned to the shore.

Wednesday Feb. 2nd, 1944

We took oil on board all night and set sail once again this morning, after some Lascar seamen had been put on board; they were going back to India, their home, after being shipwrecked at sea.
Guards however were placed on their messdeck as Lascars are notorious for having sticky fingers and the Army wasn鈥檛 taking any chances on the fellows' kit. The Lascars were a noisy crowd and quarrelled amongst themselves unceasingly.
We weren鈥檛 sorry to leave Suez as the stench was nauseating-the harbour was the essence of stagnant putridity. Edgar Allen Poe himself could alone have described the state of this port.
By this evening we were well out into the Red Sea and tropical kit was the order of the day. I felt very cool in mine and though this evening is a little cooler the air is stifling. A backwind follows us and we are always in our own air. They tell us this is always the case in the Red Sea. It is semi-official now that we are bound for India and will be stationed there.

Friday Feb. 4th, 1944

Tonight we are still in the Red Sea. Smoking is allowed on deck after blackout now and this is semi-enforced - no direct lights must be showing is the rule.
I鈥檝e just come down from the deck where I鈥檝e been enjoying a pipe of tobacco in the pale tropical moonlight-warm soft breezes waft one鈥檚 cheeks and the tobacco smoke curls luxuriously skywards. The moon is directly overhead and the foaming of the rolling sea flecked with moonlight is a wonderful sight.
During the daytime the heat is terrific and one swelters beneath a topi (they have been issued now but only for the voyage)-we鈥檙e to receive others when we get out to Bombay. Quite a number of the fellows foolishly strip and sunbathe and within half an hour were a painful mass of blisters and peeling skin.
Topis are worn from 12 noon till 4pm on deck and this rule is compulsory.
I spend my afternoons below decks near a ventilator and read-too hot for writing as one鈥檚 hand becomes too sticky and any movement requires a separate effort of willpower and energy. Heat personified is the Red Sea - blazing, merciless, and tireless, the almost overhead sun burns down upon us. It is only January too and winter here. Summer must be unbearable. I manage to have a seawater shower each afternoon but even then with the constant perspiring washing of 鈥渟malls鈥� is a bi-daily occurrence.
There seems little likelihood of relief from this torrid heat until we pass Aden and enter the Indian Ocean.
Life is still the same but slower owing to the heat. Some fellows sleep on the deck at night but usually it rains a little and so this method of sleeping isn鈥檛 popular at the moment.

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