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This story was submitted to the People`s War site by Alan Magson of Age Concern, Bradford and District, on behalf of Jack Toothill and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site`s terms and conditions.
Our Commanding Officer must have thought we were having too easy a time, so physical fitness became the order of the day. One man
from each of our sites was sent on a Regimental School Physical Training Instructors Course. I was the lucky choice from our detachment and we went to Brayton, near Selby. Here we met two Sergeant PTI's , who put us through hell for the next fortnight. One was an ex boxer, and the other a gymnast with a very cruel streak. They were experts at bringing the human frame to a point when death would have been a merciful release. After two days of agony, there was talk of desertion, or murder of these two men who had put us through a punishment we didn't deserve. By the second week our pain subsided and we began to feel fitter than at any time in our lives. It earned me a second stripe and I became the most unpopular N.C.O. on the site, forcing the lads to do four circuits of the field before breakfast. It didn't last long, as every man had a job to do on site which kept him busy every day. But changes were afoot—it was 1940 and the Clayton lads who had joined up together in 1939 were now split up, and joined other sites, doing other jobs.
Volunteers were required to train as glider pilots. My name went in but I failed to be accepted because I wore glasses. Overall year later, a raid on Arnhem was carried out with aircraft towing gliders full of soldiers over the North Sea, to land in Holland, which had disastrous consequences. Over half were killed and the rest were taken prisoner; so, for the second time I had dodged a course of action which could have been fatal for me.
In 1941, Radio Location equipment was ready for directing searchlight beams on to enemy aircraft far more accurately than before....
by sound location. To operate this new equipment, the listening crews had to go to a school to learn how to use it. This school had a motto ' The School of Life is hard, but this is a damn sight harder', and so it was. You have to remember at that time in 1941, very few people knew much about electricity, and even less about radio beams that could be made to travel round the world. At Christmas time there used to be messages sent and received from out-stations of the British Empire. Whole families would be bent over little radio sets listening to crackling messages from around the world, ending with the King's speech from Sandringham. We had an Empire in those days—our school atlases showed all our possessions in pink, and we used to think we owned half the world. So we did, but it never meant much to ordinary
people except we could buy cheaper food from New Zealand, Australia, and Canada; and Beef from the Argentine, but these food sources from over the sea, could, in time of war, be very vulnerable; but... I digress, as they say....
Our immediate job was to bring down enemy planes by any means available, and radio location was going to be a great help in doing this— so, we had two weeks to understand and learn how. After a week our
heads were buzzing with new words and phrases we had never come across before. One that really stuck in my mind was a small valve called a' self-squeggin oscillator' and its job was to break up a radio beam into small signals , so the transmitter was in small parts like bullets from a machine gun. These radio bullets sent into the night sky, would bounce off any metal object and be picked up by a receiver on the ground, which could tell the exact spot from where they came. In simple terms this equipment could locate instantaneously just where a plane was, in the sky, and direct a searchlight beam immediately on to it. Very clever brains had worked out how to do this, and had designed the equipment to do it. Our job was the relatively easy one of learning how to operate it, and do it successfully as a team. It was no more difficult than learning to drive a car, and far less dangerous.
To increase the illumination power of searchlights, they were now arranged in clusters of three, close together, and always pointing in the same direction; they were operated by remote control from a radio location station very close by. These sites were manned by forty or more men.,so, we now had proper billets, trained cooks, fewer guard duties, baths and hot showers laid on, and more time off for leisure activities. The market town of Howden was not far away; it had plenty of pubs, but even with beer at 7 pence a pint (old money) our spending money ensured that we could never get drunk. But it was nice to meet a few local girls at the dances in the Town Hall. About this time, we did get a bit more home leave, but with food being short at home, it didn't seem right to eat food they couldn't really spare, when we were well fed on army rations. So, quite often we would spend leave in camp, and spend the day in Howden or Goole which we could reach by walking along the railway line.
There was still plenty to do in camp building. Revetments to protect the equipment from possible blast. With the help of a horse and cart borrowed from the local farmer, we loaded the cart with sandbags for the 15Oyard journey to the cluster. This horse was called Captain, and he must have been a fully paid up member of the Cart Horses Union, for before he would move, we had to reduce the load, to ten sand bags!! If we put eleven on the cart, he would not move. In the end we had to build a hard core road, as lorry loads of sandbags were needed to finish the job.
Early in 1942, volunteers were required for overseas service. The 11th London Electrical Engineers had been detailed for this job but were short of a full complement of men. My mate and I were feeling a bit bored with life at the time, so we put our names down to go. Together with about another 100 who had volunteered, we were ferried down to London, and arrived at Woolwich Barracks. Built in Victorian times, it was an enormous place, covering many acres of ground, with huge brick
buildings, Vast parade grounds, and stabling for hundreds of horses, of course, now empty and deserted. . Here we were carefully examined, inoculated against tropical diseases and issued with tropical kit, plus a topee. We had no idea where we were going, but hoped it would be a tropical island with shady palm tress and a few dusky maidens in grass skirts and not much else. The day came, when we fell in on the parade ground with all our kit, ready for the big adventure. As we marched through the streets of Woolwich towards the railway station, I fell to wondering about all the thousands of troops who had done the same march, and the thousands who had never come back.
It was a bit late to have such thoughts, the die was cast, and it was too late to turn back. We boarded the train and an hour passed before we moved off-——talk about the 'slow boat to China!'. It was soon dark and we tried to sleep, but every time the train stopped, we were jerked awake. When it was daylight, we realised we were going north, and when the train finally stopped, someone recognised it as Greenock on the Clyde in Scotland. We moved from the train on to lighters, which took us out to the ship which was going to take us away from the cold, wet, English weather, to warm sunlit beaches, with dancing girls, etc, etc. We had heard terrible stories of life on board troopships, so that was the price we were prepared to pay for the wonderful life ahead. When we arrived at the ship, our luck could not be believed— it was the Q.E. 1!!!— the biggest, most luxurious ship in the world.; but, we soon found out that life on board was not going to be all beer and skittles .All the luxurious fittings in the cabins had been ripped out and replaced with three-tiered bunks. What had been a suite of two rooms was now the home for 42 soldiers, plus all their kit. As I have already said, we had experienced far worse living conditions than these. We had a hot sea-water bath, but between forty two men sharing it didn't work out at a bath for everyone every day. On the ship's previous trip to the U.K. it had brought thousands of American troops to the UK, and the ship had been loaded with American food, cigarettes, chocolate, beer, Coca Cola—all top quality goods. For our first meal on board we had two pork chops with all the trimmings, and two big Californian oranges. I couldn't help feeling sorry for all the people at home on meagre rations, just to keep body and soul together.
Our future Iife on board ship appeared very rosy, but there is always a snag somewhere. Our mob being the Royal Artillery, we were given the job of manning all the guns on the ship, which numbered a hundred all together, ranging from 3.7AA guns, to Orlican cannon, and Vickers machine guns, all mounted on the top decks of the ship. We did Naval watches of 2 hours on, 4 hours off, and 1 dogwatch in the 24 hours— that meant each day we had 3 watches of 2 hours, and 1 of 1 hour.
The ship had six decks of cabins and mess halls. Officers of the Army, Navy and Airforce, and all the Waafs, Wrens and ATS were accommodated in the top two or three decks. NCO's of the Army, Navy and Airforce below, and Other Ranks— that's us— in the lowest decks of all. I couldn't help thinking the ship was a microcosm of society, back in the U.K. We were the biggest single group on the ship, and it took five sittings in a huge mess hall for every meal. Each meal took 2and a half hours to serve and eat, for us 'erks , and we each had a card, showing which sitting down was ours, so that no-one got more than one breakfast, dinner, or tea .It was said ,that when the ship sailed from Greenock, there were 18,000 people on board, and I thought what a prime target we were for the German pocket battleships, and the German Air force, if only they could find us.
One dark night, we felt the throb of the ship's huge turbines, and a gentle rocking, as the QE1 eased out into the Clyde. On the previous day we had found out at boat-drill rehearsal, that for the men manning the guns, there would be refuge if the ship was hit and sinking— with 1800 souls on board, there could never be enough boats and rafts for every body, so at least we could go down with all guns firing, and maybe achieve immortalitv (some hope!!), in doing so. There was a popular song about that time, a comic song, in which a Captain of a ship sat in the Captains's chair, and 'played his ukelele' as the ship went down'. There was nothing funny about our situation, and I thought—"Could our luck run out?"
When the next day dawned, we were travelling down the Clyde at top speed, an escort of destroyers, ploughing through the waves, just able to keep up to the speed of this great ship. We could hear planes overhead, and hoped they were friendly. We were soon passing to the north of Ireland, and out into the Atlantic .It was June 4th 1942, and we were on the high seas, leaving the land of our birth, perhaps never return— but in the excitement of the moment, that possibility was put to one side. The boredom of every day life at home, working for a living, was forgotten, and we welcomed the uncertain future, whatever it might be.
The speed of the ship was a tribute to the men who had built her. There was no doubt it was the fastest ship in the world. It could go anywhere in the world unaccompanied; added to that it always held a zigzag course to avoid any torpedoes that may have been aimed at it by enemy ships or submarines. The gun my mate and I were allocated, was an Orlican Cannon. It was mounted in a bullet proof (we hoped) well, overlooking the Sun deck, and close to one of the great Funnels that carried away all the fumes from the engine rooms far below. Also close by, was the ventilator, from the bakehouse, from which came the appetizing smell of newly baked bread, a homely comforting smell when the wind was in the right direction.
When far out in the Atlantic, we did get in some shooting practice at gas balloons, released from the ship, but as there were a hundred or so guns firing at the same balloon, no-one could claim a hit, but it was good fun. Our gun fired a highly penetrative shell, exploding on impact, so we felt well able to hit back at any attacking plane.
When we were on duty on a sunny day, it was a very pleasant place to be , looking down on the decks below, when the WAAFS and WRENS were exercising to keep fit— we were allowed an occasional wave of the hand, to the girls below, but whistles or conversations were not allowed, as we were supposed to be scanning the horizon for enemy planes, or anything else that might threaten our safety. Apart from gun duty, we were allowed to roam on the deck where our cabin was, or to the mess hall for meals. Every day a mini newspaper was printed to give us news of the outside world; also the distance travelled by the ship on the previous day.
After sailing westward towards America for three days or so, the ship turned south, and we were soon in much warmer weather, exposed to the sun and wind, we soon lost our English pallor; living on the fat of the land (or sea) should I say, we were ready to sail round the world! It was then that I began to think of the cost of this war, not just in loss of life, but in actual cash— to send all these people on just one ship half way round the world, all expenses paid, and multiplied hundreds of times, in so many different ways— someone was going to have to pay for all this, and I wondered if each *one of us would be paying for the rest of our lives. Then I thought—' enjoy it whilst its here, it won't last for ever'.
Each day on duty on the sun deck was wonderful— there was always something to see (apart from the girls below)—new kinds of sea birds, flying fish, dolphins, and once we saw a whale cavorting some miles away, in the Tropics, the sea was phosphorescent where the waves broke, and the moon rose twice its normal size.
Our ship changed direction to the East, and docked for one night at Lagos in Nigeria for some reason unknown. It was unbelievably hot and steamy, and we were glad to be on the move again next day, enjoying the cool sea breezes. Our next stop was Cape Town, and we saw the famous Table Mountain with its head in the clouds. The weather there was beautiful and I believe it is so all year round, quite a wonderful place to live. Taking aboard supplies and fuel only took a day and a half, and while we were there, the QE1 's sister ship the Queen Mary came in.
The next part of our journey was in the Indian Ocean, travelling northwards, and it was here we had a close encounter with what was thought to be a Japanese submarine pack, lurking very close to our line of travel. The first hint of trouble came, when half a dozen rockets lit up the sky in our wake.
The Officer of the Watch was inundated with the sitings, phoned in from everywhere on board.. Within half a minute, the sound of our ship's engines quickened, and within one minute, the ship was leaping forward like a racehorse. It weighed almost 100,000 tons, and for us on the top deck, it felt like being on an express, travelling at 60m.p.h., and sticking our heads out of a window. This went on for about half an hour, an incredible experience for everyone on board. Again we had reason to thank the ship-builders of Tyneside for their incredible skills.
Our journey northward continued, and it seemed we were destined for the Red Sea, which meant we must be going to the Port of Suez at the Northern end , and the Middle East was to be our centre of operation. We knew the war in the Western Desert was not going well, but what part we were going to play was not so clear. It was July, and the heat in the Red Sea was at its worst. Below decks the heat was stifling; we had plenty of water to drink, but it had slight overtones of diesel, which is an acquired taste. We consoled ourselves with thinking how much worse it would have been on the other troopships, with far less conveniences than we had on the QE1. And so we arrived at Suez, and our voyage was complete. Disembarkation was a long job; arrangements for people's different destinations had to be sorted out; it must have been a headache for somebody. It was only when we left the QEl, and we saw it from a distance, that we felt it looked smaller than when we were on board. It was 16th July, and the mini newspaper for that day contained a good will message from the Ship's Captain-E.M.Fall. D.S.O. R.D. R.N.R...... It
was with great regret that we left the Q.E. 1, having spent a memorable month of our lives aboard probably the finest ship in the world in that time.
No time was wasted at Suez. Our mob boarded a train bound for Cairo, and we were soon passing through that fascinating part of Egypt, the Delta area, where the mighty river Nile splits up into thousands of minor rivers, and over many thousands of years has covered a huge area with fertile deposits of alluvial soil. Melting snows in Central Africa, where the Nile rises, causes an annual flood in the Delta area. We read that there is a soil thickness now of 30 feet or more; thousands of dykes carry this flood water to irrigate the land .We later found out that farming methods haven't changed from Biblical times, when human labour, men and women, worked the land, threshing with hand tools , using buffalo to pull the primitive ploughs. Each day young boys and girls would walk a couple of buffaloes to the fields of clover, where they were tethered to a stake driven into the ground. The boys' job was to cut the clover with a sickle, which the girls collected and fed to the tethered animals.

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