大象传媒

Soon after leaving this village we crossed the boundary into the French Sudan. Native Customs Officers stopped the lorries and the police in charge of our party had to show the necessary pass. Vegetation is not so profuse in this part and there is a distinct change in the scenery. Every few miles one comes to a crude form of bridge over the deep gullies. The lorry charged down the hill approaching the bridge - we all hung on - the idea of the native driver apparently was to get over it before it had time to collapse. The quicker this is done, he considers, the better. Planks fly into the air behind the lorry. On the other side of the bridge there is usually a very steep hill and the native in the back gets ready to spring out and scotch the wheel should the engine stall. We frequently saw monkeys and baboons, also birds with wonderful plumage which are quite unknown to us. No doubt we appeared foreign to them.

During the next part of our journey we came into mountainous country. On both sides of the road the rocks are very picturesque and the formations have arranged themselves into the most weird shapes. We passed quite near one piece of rock which must have weighed hundreds of tons - this was perilously balanced on another cone-shaped rock. As we reached Bamako we could see the River Niger in the distance. A lorry loaded with French European soldiers passed in the opposite direction. They probably thought that we too were French, as when they saw us they all cheered.

On arrival at Bamako our Police guard handed us over to the Commissary of Police and we were billeted in a large Technical school, the building of which was incomplete. It was at this time being used as barracks. We were escorted to the top floor and all had comfortable beds. A long balcony which ran the full length of the building adjoined our dormitory. Here we were told that we should rest for about five days. We were then to be sent to Timbuctoo. Needless to say this was the last place in the world that any of us expected to land in.

In residence at Bamako we were not allowed to leave the top floor, except for a wash in the morning and evening. For this we were escorted to the washplace by native guards. Here we actually had proper showers for our use. The food we received during our stay in Bamako was quite good and we were allowed a small ration of wine. After five days' rest we left about 6 a.m. A couple of small vans took us to the station and once more we were introduced to the native carriages. We had a French European Police official in charge of the party, and black guards. The station was crowded with people who stared at us, no doubt wondering why Europeans were travelling in this way. The train stopped at every station, and we reached Koulikoro - the terminus of this line - about 10 a.m. After leaving the train we were counted and lined up, and were then taken across to some out-buildings near the riverbank where we all sat around awaiting instructions. At one o'clock we saw our new home. This was a shallow-draught iron barge with two holds. Mattresses were thrown into the bottom and there was no room in which to walk. A canopy was formed with sticks bent over and covered with grass mats and canvas on the outside. In the heat of the tropical sun it was unbearable down below. Our next means of propulsion was a crude stern-wheeler - the MARECHAL GALLIANI - with a seething mass of black humanity on her lower deck. She had four barges in all to tow - two each side abeam. Ours was the outer barge on the Port side next the wood-barge. On the starboard side were two more barges loaded to full capacity with ammunition. The MARECHAL GALLIANI had two small wood-fire boilers; steam leaked from every joint. The native firemen worked like devils, and we stopped frequently to bunker - averaging at least once every three hours. The whole village turns out when the "M.G." comes in sight. The natives carry all their worldly goods with them, including such things as chickens and goats, cooking utensils, gourds, etc. At each stop many went ashore but we always left full to capacity. There were a few French European soldiers on board bound for Timbuctoo. Our Police official in charge, an Army officer, and one or two European ladies were the sole occupants of the upper deck of the steamer. On the journey up we had the same food as that of the private European soldiers and we had little to complain of as far as food was concerned. We were literally eaten to death by mosquitoes at night-time but it was a very interesting trip.

The river is very wide in places - at one spot we passed through a short canal with a lock at either end. This canal cuts out some rapids. We passed all kinds of crude craft on the river - it was nothing to see a quite small canoe carrying four or five adults, children, cattle and chickens. These craft keep close into the bank and are poled along - time is no object. As we got further down river we noticed that vegetation was becoming less profuse. We spent a night that none of us will ever forget - the barge being tied up at a place called Mopti. The river at this point is full of crocodiles but they did not worry us. It must be remembered that we had no mosquito nets and as the insects were terrible that night no-one had any sleep.

Soon after leaving Mopti we saw a few hippopotamuses and one of the Army officers occasionally shot a crocodile basking on the river bank. Kabara is the nearest point of the Niger to Timbuctoo and we arrived there on October 7th, 1941. This is actually 8 kms (5 miles) from Timbuctoo. Five sick men were taken in a small motor-van, also a few others who were unfit to walk; the remainder of us walked and it was a very uncomfortable tramp along a dusty desert road. We had an escort of a European officer on horseback, two European sergeants, and at least 50 black troops. On arrival at Timbuctoo we found our new quarters to be the old rest-home.

It was an eight-roomed single-storey building with a flat roof. A high wall surrounded it about 25 yards distant from all sides. Like all buildings in Timbuctoo the walls are made of mud about one foot six inches thick. When we entered this building we did not know that it was to be our home for the next ten months. There were four rooms on either side of a central passage, the whole of which were surrounded by a wide corridor. Doors from each opened into the central passage. The windows which had no glass could be enclosed by shutters. We averaged three men per room and were given beds and mattresses, also an Army blanket each. We had our meals in the outer corridor at two long tables - one for officers and one for men. The native guard was supplied by the Garrison at Timbuctoo and consisted usually of one Corporal, ten Privates and a European Sergeant in charge of the guard which was changed once a day about 5 p.m. The rest-house was situated on the outskirts of Timbuctoo and from the flat roof of our prison we had quite a good view of the Desert city - once seen never forgotten. The nearest buildings to us were the Military Hospital on one side and the Civil Hospital on another. On the third side was a native burial ground and the back of the building overlooked the desert.

One or two native villages consisting of a few grass huts could be seen. The morning following our arrival at the camp we were visited by the Military Commandant - a smart soldier and a strict disciplinarian. All the soldiers were lined up and must present arms as the Commandant enters on horseback. Two smart Arab bodyguards accompanied him. He apologised for the fact that we must be guarded by black troops as he could not have sufficient Europeans; but there was always a European Sergeant in charge of the guard. The first thing we did was to ask permission to write home, and to contact the U.S. Consul at Dakar. We had now been interned nearly four months, and up to that time this request had been flatly refused by the French. To our relief each man had permission to write one letter per week. These would be collected on Sunday morning. They took three months to reach home, so for the first seven months of our captivity our people at home had a very anxious time.

We all badly longed for a smoke but the Commandant decreed that each man could have only one packet of twenty cigarettes per week and that had to be bought. We were told that this was all that was allowed to the people in Occupied France. What little money most of us had when we were first interned had long since been spent so we got no smokes, except an occasional cigarette from the Sergeant. Native convicts carried water each day from a well just outside the camp and several large chatties were used for storage. The food, which was purely native, consisted chiefly of rice and "Cus Cus". We had two meals daily - one at 12 noon and the other at 6 p.m. We were supposed to receive 300 grammes of bread each day but we started with about 200 and dropped to 150. We then complained and they promptly blamed the British blockade. What little meat we had was desert goat. Butter and jam were never seen and when the bread arrived quite a few of us would eat the whole amount right away and go without for the rest of the day. When a man was considered ill enough to be sent to the Military Hospital a few yards from the camp his food was sent over from the prison so he had either to get better quickly or starve.

About two months after our arrival we received a large parcel of books, also a few packs of cards, draughts, etc., also a number of cigarettes. Some R.A.F. officers who were interned at Koulikoro and had heard of our plight gallantly came to the rescue. We have not the least doubt that they deprived themselves considerably to help us, and to them we owe our grateful thanks. Shortly after this we received forms from the U.S. Consul. These conveyed the information that we were to receive pocket-money at the equivalent rate of 拢2 per month for officers and 拢1 per month for the men. The money was to be paid once a month in the equivalent of francs. The British Government had put funds at the disposal of the Consul for such uses. Had we only been allowed to get into touch with the U.S. Consul when we were first taken captive we should have been receiving the money all these months but we had to wait patiently and it was a great day for us when the first mandate arrived.

For about six weeks in the year tomatoes can be obtained from the native gardens. This fruit grows very large and we were glad to be able to have some. The Military Commandant who visited the camp quite frequently at last granted permission for a party of not more than ten men to take a walk of one hour's duration outside the camp each morning. They must be escorted by three guards. We were not allowed in the town of Timbuctoo but could walk down the road in the direction of Cabara.

We had frequently asked for news of the War. Permission was now given for us to receive the Press. This was Vichy-controlled news which these outposts receive by radio. It was written into a book daily and handed round to any European officials who might be interested. The German and French communiques were in full. English and Allied news was well-censored by Vichy and little, with the exception of reverses, could be gathered from it. One of our party was a good French linguist and he translated the news for us while we all eagerly listened. Our first pocket-money arrived about this time. We often managed to purchase tomatoes from the natives and you can realise that they were a real luxury to us. The native gardens on the verge of the desert are a work of art - they consist of a large crater-shaped hole dug in the ground about 100 yards across, and forms like a funnel-mouth. The hole is deep enough to ensure a supply of water in the centre. From the time of planting the seeds on the sloping sides of this hole to the maturing of the produce the harvest period is only about four months. Natives draw water in skin bags for watering the plants - a large percentage of this runs back into the well again. From sunrise to sunset these gardens are most carefully watched and birds are kept away. The natives grow tomatoes, onions, potatoes, tobacco (at least that's what they call it) and cotton, also melons by the score. During this short fruit-bearing season two men made an escape from the camp one evening. Everyone wished them luck and hoped that they would win through to freedom. The guard had become very lax and it was more or less taken for granted that no-one would try and escape from such a remote spot. It was only on rare occasions that the Sergeant bothered to count us. The European Sergeants were very decent to us but, being Military, they of course had their orders. We therefore all did our best to hide the fact that there were two men short. At our mid-day meal the next day the Sergeant became suspicious and a roll-call was taken, after which the roof and yard were searched. Word was immediately sent to the Commandant and he arrived at the camp half an hour later. The General commanding the French Sudan had arrived on a tour of inspection that morning so our monocled Commandant was in no way pleased. This news naturally upset him. He and the Commissary of Police arrived together. We were all ordered to our rooms and the doors and shutters were closed on us. Walks outside the camp were immediately stopped and the Press was also banned. We were allowed no cigarettes, neither could we buy any food whatever from the natives. Therefore, there was no supplementing our diet of rice and "Cous Cous". I may add here that we once went for over a hundred days on this diet.

Two days after the above episode the Commandant arrived at the camp. He was in a towering rage and told us that our comrades had been caught. He said that we had been treated very liberally in the matter of being allowed walks and smokes (the latter having been paid for by ourselves, please note). He informed us that he had a souvenir of the last War through fighting for the English, which he emphasised by uncovering his wrist which had been badly shattered. He said all this in French, meanwhile gesticulating with his riding whip in one hand. It was all translated for us by our interpreter. As he stamped out of the building he turned back and shouted in plain English "You do not play fair". The guard presented arms and he left. Locks were then fitted to all our doors and shutters and we were not allowed out of these dark and stifling rooms except for meals twice daily. A roll-call was made four times day and sometimes at 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning.

Three days later, five days after our friends escaped they arrived back. One of the rooms was cleared and they were immediately locked in. The others were now allowed to walk about the building from sunrise until after the mid-day meal, when we were locked in our rooms again until 4 p.m. and again from 8 p.m. until sunrise. This childish punishment continued for about three weeks, after which things returned to normal, except that walks were forbidden and we were not allowed on the roof. The Press also was still banned.

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