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We left Greenock on Saturday 19th June 1943 at 11.00pm on board an American boat called the ‘George Washington Goethals’. Only two meals a day and rotten food at that so I was soon near to starving which didn’t improve my feelings towards the Americans, in fact, I’ve hated them ever since. One Sunday we were so hungry that we nearly mutinied and demanded to see the Steward but all we got was a promise of more food which, I’m afraid didn’t materialise.

We put in to Freetown on the west coast of Africa on Friday July 2nd but were not allowed off the boat as there was an epidemic of yellow fever in the town and all the time we were there we had to smear ourselves with anti-mosquito ointment if we were going on deck. We had some good fun watching the natives in their ‘bumboats’ diving in for coins. There were some selling fresh fruit, but we were forbidden to buy any because of the fever epidemic which was further aggravation to our stomachs as we had been looking forward to some fruit to help fill the big spaces in our stomachs, but we just had to continue to starve.

I was very glad to leave Freetown on the following Tuesday morning, glad because it meant we were getting nearer to our destination. Two days after, we had the crossing the line ceremony which to me was a lot of hooey. To cut a long story short, we put in to Cape Town, South Africa, on Wednesday July 21st at 2 o’ clock and then the only thing that interested us was getting off and having a good feed. We eventually set off about 7 o’ clock and went straight to a shop on the quay where we stuffed ourselves with chocolate, bananas, oranges and sweets until we felt quite sick. We were allowed out until midnight so we got on a bus and asked to be put off at the centre of the town. When we got there we decided to look for a café where we could get a square meal: eventually found one and ordered a steak, two eggs, bacon and tomatoes and chips. Oh boy, how we enjoyed that meal! We staggered out and bought further supplies of fruit and chocolate and made out way back to the boat.

Next morning we disembarked and went to Pollsmoor Camp about 15 miles out of town. We were given a pass every day to go to Cape Town and had many a nice time there, as far as our small wages would allow us. The people there are half pro-British and the others are for the Gerrys and hated the British: most of them being descendants of the men who fought against us in the Boer War.

We were given many a lift in smashing cars and one day when Cyril and I were out walking (no money) we were picked up by an old married couple and they took us into town. It turned out that he was the town councillor and he took us into the City Hall and showed us the room where many famous people have sat, including King Edward VI. He made us sit in Van Riebeeck’s chair, he was the founder of the Union of South Africa and we felt highly honoured. He then took us in to a pub and bought us a drink. Incidentally that same day we were trying to get a lift back to camp and a chap came up to us who had just been discharged from the South African Army and he took us in another pub treated us right and left to drinks and cigarettes, we then came out and he gave us our train fare back to camp. I certainly would like to meet up with him again to repay him.

After being there for three weeks, Cyril went into hospital suspected of having appendicitis and when we heard we were leaving I thought that I should lose him, but as luck would have it they discharged him the day before we left so everything was o.k.

We left Pollsmoor regretfully on August 19th 1943 and boarded a train for Durban and I will say here that this journey was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. It took two days and nights to reach there and we were treated like lords, with sheets and pillows to sleep on and also we were waited on at meals. The real thrill of it all though, was the marvellous scenery while travelling through mountains it is something I shall never forget.

We reached Durban on August 21st 1943 and were taken to a ‘camp’, at least that’s what they called it, but to us it was nothing more than a cattle farm with nothing but concrete and if you were lucky, straw to sleep on. We got passes to Durban itself every day but it wasn’t a patch on Cape Town and it rained nearly all the time we were there, so we were so cheesed off and were glad in a way when we left a week later.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Becky Barugh of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Dorothy Cottis and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Cottis fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

See more of Walter's letters and diaries:

• 2) Onwards to Aden — In Letters
• 3) Aden to Egypt

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