大象传媒

CAUSE AND EFFECT OF SURVIVAL

THE GOOD LIFE
I had left the destroyer HMS Eridge on 30th March 1942 to return to, and become a 鈥楤arrack Stanchion锟紼at, the shore base in Alexandria.
Having completed a period of standing-in for someone in need of relief from active service, I was once more available for whatever assignment came along; a necessary humane requirement, but a requirement in which one had to be prepared to make speedy adjustments.
The assignments for us, the visual signal complement, were many and varied: shore signal stations, signal distributing and coding offices, H.M. Ships, merchant vessels, convoy duties and landing parties.
For one week, however, I was back with old friends, or making new friends and learning of those who had left on other jobs and of those friends who would never return.
I had foreknowledge of two of my colleagues who had perished aboard merchant vessels in convoys that we had escorted. There must have been others, as most, if not all, merchant vessels in convoy carried a Royal Navy signalman for liaison purposes.
It was not surprising, therefore, that our group, once back in barracks, immersed ourselves in the running of the base and the instruction of others, such as 鈥楬ostilities Only锟紼ratings. The latter activity was very rewarding, as the new guys were very receptive and informative and we, as teachers, could get 鈥榖ack to basics锟紼 But锟紼
There was also the desire to let off steam as soon as possible, so a run ashore in Alex was the necessary panacea to unwind from the madness and mayhem of people blowing up people, but we just looked upon it as our right for just being allowed to enjoy life.

ALPHA TO OMEGA
The 鈥楪ood Life锟紼lasted until 11th April when, as the senior visual signalman and a staff of three, I joined the senior telegraphist with his staff to liaise with the crew of a Greek destroyer AETOS. Our group of eight were appalled with the Greek crew鈥檚 living conditions, and immediately made our living and sleeping quarters on 鈥楤锟紼gun-deck.
On the 12th of April, we awoke wet through from the overnight rain, but I was much too occupied with the fact that today was the birthday of (my) girl, Phoebe, on Long Island, NY. How the last three years had flown!
During the next few days, Sparks and I spent commuting twixt ship and dockyard, drawing stores: bedding, flags, stationery and provisions for our staff鈥檚 consumption.
The destroyer was destined to remain in the eastern Mediterranean, so from Alexandria she patrolled and saw service in the seas to Haifa, Beirut and Cyprus up to the waters off the coast of Turkey. During this time, our small band of RN crew managed to arrange and attend a dance in a hotel in Alexandria in aid of the Greek Hospital.
Once again, despite attacks from the air and below the sea, my ship and I enjoyed a charmed life. I did succumb, however, to a spell in hospital in Beirut; that is to say in the mountains above the town. I had enjoyed sightseeing in Beirut as well as the nightlife, with the opportunity to use my schoolboy French. Returning to ship, from night leave, I often joined the dockyard police to share their strong coffee and hardboiled eggs. Although I held no vital-to-the-war information, I still felt guilty having to guard my conversation in the company of these friendly beings, who seemed to want nothing else but to air their knowledge of the English language.

THE EFFECT
The address of the hospital, manned by New Zealand Staff was rightly named New Zealand Hospital.
From USA, Phoebe, (remember her?) wrote to say how strange that I should be in New Zealand whilst her brother was serving in England!
The surgeon told me that he was about use on me an experimental procedure as a local anaesthetic - a spinal injection. I was convinced of the operation鈥檚 success when I saw the surgeon holding someone鈥檚 leg up in the air, and discovered that it was mine! It was surely one of the first epidurals. The patient and leg were soon doing fine!
This now was a phase of the war in which I was unfamiliar. Most of the patients in my ward were either Australians or New Zealanders 锟紼all were army- brought from North Africa by hospital ship. I had never experienced the prolonged agony of wounded men; in short bursts in a sickbay it is bearable.
When I was one of the 鈥榳alking wounded锟紼 I was able to take stock and make friends. The one Scotsman, Jock 锟紼what else? 锟紼had lost an eye, but remained cheerful. We did crosswords and puzzles together.
Nighttimes were dreadful. Without the bustle and chatter of the daylight hours, what should have been the quiet hours was the agony of the painful cries of patients and the scurrying of the nurses about their business. The sedatives were never sufficient to blot out the screams.
When one did sleep, it was not uncommon to wake up and discover empty beds; the cries had ceased in the night.
Amongst all this, daytime always seemed light-hearted. The hospital staff was great. I was grateful to be allowed to assist the sister and nurses in agonizingly placing a burns patient into a saline bath. I could not believe how he had survived, and never knew his eventual fate. Another patient was recovering from an operation carried out to remove a live shell from his body. The field surgeon had carried out the operation behind sandbags, and the story was carried in several local papers.
There was such a lot of friendship and love amongst staff and patients within the balance of life and death.
In a self-contained billet higher up the mountain, where I joined a small group of convalescing submariners, my rehabilitation was an eye-opener. To me it was d茅j锟紼vu, reminding me of the apr猫s convoy life but without the nightlife. Everything that was required was there in the billet, plus, unfortunately, the occasional reminders of those who hadn鈥檛 made it.
From the convalescent home, I was taken down the mountain by truck to the once Vichy French Naval Base Marechal in Beirut, renamed HMS Martial. The effect on the ears was like descending in a pressurised aircraft. From there I went by car to Haifa and bus to transit camp. Fourteen of us then travelled by lorry to the railway station to continue our journey overnight to Alexandria with a train full of 鈥榣ocals锟紼in a rickety compartment with wooden benches.
Still there was a war going on out there, and I had been out of it for some time. During that period, however, I had been close to, and experienced, the suffering caused by the very actions of which I was once more going to play a part.

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