大象传媒

Dad鈥檚 Story

Prelude: These memoirs were written by John William Warren (known as Jack Warren) during October 2000. Jack showed it to his only daughter Linda, my Partner, during 2002 and was delighted when Linda typed it up. With pleasure he sent copies to a few of his old friends, some of whom he had served with during the War.

Shortly afterwards Jack passed away peacefully, on the 19th January 2003 to be precise. His wife of many years Marjory herself died 6 weeks later. Linda affectionately referred to Jacks memoirs as 鈥淒ad鈥檚 Story鈥�. We were considering how we could best share her Fathers memoirs when sadly Linda also passed away in 2004.

When I recently came across this site I felt it would be an appropriate home for 鈥淒ads Story鈥� which speaks for itself.

The storey is in three parts ...

1. This prelude and Dad's Story Chapters 1 and 2
2. Dad's Story Chapters 3, 4 and 5
3. Dad's Story Chapter 6

I hope you will enjoy it....Colm O鈥橠onnell

DAD's STORY

OCTOBER 2000

60 years on! As near as I can remember it by
John W Warren
Royal Corps of Signals
1940 - 1945

CHAPTER 1
May 1940

The Second World War had been on for eight months and to some was 鈥渢he phoney war鈥�, so I continued travelling by train daily from Reigate to London Bridge station, joining the walking crowds to my place of work 鈥� a merchants鈥� office in Cannon Street in the City.

Gradually acquaintances joined the armed services, leaving one with the feeling should I volunteer or await call-up. In May 鈥� at the time of evacuation from Dunkirk 鈥� my call came to attend Royal Corps of Signals outfit at Chiswick, West London.

This was merely a collection point and a crowd of some two hundred proceeded by train to Hove. The crowd dispersed among a number of empty houses near to the sea front and, once organised, spent our time marching up and down in squads in the local park.

Obviously the authorities did not want untrained soldiers in the possibly vulnerable South Coast area and we moved on to large empty houses in the Bletchingley/Merstham area of Surrey. This seemed too good to last to me, living in Reigate. It was 鈥� and in a short space of time our group boarded a train and eventually reached Liverpool for embarkation. I鈥檇 never been to sea but was soon to suffer discomfort.

The P and O passenger/cargo liner Strathaird had been converted as a troopship and I was down on H or J deck 鈥� way below water line 鈥� no light, little air and a mass of humanity. I think it was about five days before I could take notice or eat 鈥� conditions were not pleasant.

Taking the air on deck showed a large convoy of vessels heading west 鈥� there seemed to be twenty plus ships tended by the Royal Navy 鈥� cruisers and destroyers keeping the whole assembly in place. This went on for some days and then one morning the convoy split 鈥� new escort vessels appeared as a number of ships continued west whilst our heading changed from west to southeast. I guess we had missed the Bay of Biscay, it seemed warmer and we reached Freetown (Sierra Leone), presumably for water and fuel and then eventually reached Cape Town with its familiar Table Mountain.

So we looked at Cape Town and wondered. The convoy needed sorting out. Trained troops needed for the East African and Middle East conflicts were first transferred and left the untrained to go to India. A couple of days went by then, after the traditional noonday gun, parties were marched ashore and paraded. We were set free in Cape Town and, passing through the dock gates, found many hospitable South Africans wanting to entertain us. This went on for several days and, as soon as the 12 o鈥檆lock gun went, we were free till midnight. The South Africans were those of British origin 鈥� the Afrikaners by contrast less friendly.

Among such a large crowd it was hardly surprising that some of the visitors were given too much to drink and then put on a long distance overnight train, causing them to miss the boat! I was quite keen to visit Table Mountain and went up by cable car 鈥� very spectacular until clouds descended to make the 鈥榯ablecloth鈥� and it was foggy. Hearing voices in the fog drew us to the sound and unbelievably we walked into a party of Signals we had last seen at Bletchingley. They were trained Signals who had an urgent call to Greenock on the Clyde.

My hosts in Cape Town, whom I met on several days, were a very hospitable couple 鈥� Winnie and George Niddrie. (When later on in the war my brother Ernie was bound for India he also visited the Niddries and then my Uncle Arthur 鈥� ex P and O and now Lt RNVR also visited them). One afternoon I was in a tobacco factory 鈥� the girls in the packing department thrust packs of cigarettes upon us, filling pockets and space in our battledress blouses. The happy and delightful interlude at Cape Town soon passed and we found ourselves on a troopship, one of the Orient Line passenger cargo liners. Still down below the waterline, it was at least warmer and I had found my sea legs. Flying fish were to be seen briefly, keeping pace with our vessel whilst dolphins inspected us.

Card schools helped to fill our days 鈥� no money was involved as who had money? Then the blue colour of the ocean changed to the muddy brown as we entered Bombay harbour and secured alongside a long quay. As we looked around, right opposite some fifty yards away, was a dark auxiliary cruiser RMS Ranchi 鈥� ex P and O. Now this was the ship upon which my Uncle Arthur served and had now been transferred into RNVR 鈥� and there he was, on an upper boat deck surveying the scene through binoculars. Would he see us? A crowd of us shouted and waved. He said afterwards he was aware of the commotion but could not place the cause.

CHAPTER 2
On nearby railway sidings after an alfresco meal, a train appeared and we piled in 鈥� Indian railways, British built, operated on a wider gauge 5鈥�6鈥� or 6鈥� (as opposed to UK 4鈥�8 陆鈥�) and this wider track gave much more spacious interiors, making life comfortable on the steady but not speedy journey. As night fell with tropical suddenness, we halted and again a meal was produced. We next transferred to a narrow gauge track at Khandwa and wound our way up through the forests among chattering monkeys. This train was primitive to say the least and we were relieved to stretch ourselves at Mhow, our home for the immediate future.

It was a garrison town, built many years ago with solid Victorian barracks arranged around a large green area, housing for families and a native bazaar with a variety of services.

Life at barracks at Mhow was comfortable 鈥� the monsoon period was just ending with a profusion of vegetation, insects and all manner of unpleasantness. It seemed fourteen months was the normal time to convert recruits into efficient signallers, but our target was fourteen weeks, so more had to be put into the day. This began at 4 a.m. 鈥� a mug of tea, wash and shave before 4.30 P.T., 6.00 breakfast, shower and 8.00 parade in fresh clothes. The heat was such that, after a morning of classroom work, we were wrung out. 2 - 4 p.m. was a rest period because of the heat. Then, 4 p.m. onwards, daily sport 鈥� mostly football and hockey 鈥� all with shorter sessions. After a 6 o鈥檆lock meal, more instruction followed 鈥� hours of sending and receiving Morse code to try to attain proficiency.

Naturally, with six hundred recruits arriving, there was much work for the permanent staff made up of regular army men. Smaller groups were formed, 24-30 men, and among subjects for instruction was map reading and navigation. Our sergeant instructor wasn鈥檛 too good on this and he picked on me to try my hand 鈥� the squad backed me up and we made great progress. I was not aware that the chief instructor and major in charge of training had taken seats at the back of my class. The result next morning I was summoned to the office and invited, once I had reached proficiency, to stay on the training staff.

By this time I had decided I didn鈥檛 like India 鈥� the climate and squalor and hoped my journey would be West 鈥� towards Europe. Besides, I had a good bunch of fellows around me, all wishing to stay together. The eager beavers among us opted for Indian Army commissions, whilst others opted to stay at Mhow. My fourteen week target time was suddenly shortened and half a dozen of us were sent south to Hyderabad for jungle work. Nothing goes as planned and from Hyderabad I found myself at an old fortress town 鈥� Ahmednagar 鈥� collecting gear for overseas. We were to join 20th Brigade 鈥� the 3rd Brigade of 9th Division assembling for Malaya. Troopship again, but meantime 20 Brigade were detached and diverted to the Persian Gulf to an Axis inspired revolt in Iraq. So we then became the 1st Brigade of 10 Indian Division, followed by 21 and 25. Moving north along the Euphrates River, at that point about half a mile wide, one was conscious of mirages which created some strange sights. For instance, a golden dome was floating in the sky but, as we approached, it became the dominating feature of the town of Samawah. The river crossing was by a series of local boats tied side to side and looked precarious. However, one truck at a time we creaked our way across.

The road at this stage was no more than a sandy track and one followed the distant telegraph poles about a mile away. These marked the metre gauge railway from Basra to Baghdad and it was quite a sight to see a train sailing through the air! - another desert mirage caused by the intense heat. The Iraq affair was of short duration and Divisional H.Q. was moved to Lake Habaniyah about 50 miles from Baghdad. Our supplies came via the large RAF station which also trained Arab levies and which became the Arab Legion, later the nucleus of the army of Jordan.

In Syria conflict ensued between the Vichy French and British and our part took us along the Euphrates River as far as Aleppo.

With the end of hostilities we were directed back into Iraq 鈥� hundreds of miles of sandy wastes alongside the river. Communication was by Morse coded messages over our radios 鈥� primitive send and receive units intended to operate up to 6-8 miles by voice and up to 20 miles by Morse. By ingenious use of long aerials angled in the right directions, the radio sets maintained contact over the hundreds of miles from one part of the division to another. Communication was difficult, wireless signals faded, were obliterated by desert sandstorms so we spent many hours keeping in touch.

Back in Iraq we were next alerted through Baghdad to the Persian border. The Shah was in trouble and rebels in control 鈥� into which the division was sent 鈥� eastwards and up into the mountains. Hostile artillery fire in the foothills caused a temporary hold up. In response our 25-pounder field guns at a maximum trajectory fired up the mountain pass whilst detachments of Ghurkhas attacked. This soon brought the affair to a halt and up we went. I noticed the rock faces of the pass had British army badges carved into the rock 鈥� relics of the First World War.

Persia was fertile after the sandy wastes 鈥� grapes and corn grew, sheep and goats looked well cared for. Through Khermanshah 鈥� an oil-producing area and Hamadan and a diversion southwards to Isphahan, with its streets of silversmiths and colourful mosaics on the mosques. Then back to Hamadan where I bought small paraffin lamps and an ankle length sheepskin cloak called a poshtin. The cost was minimal, the warmth welcome during the long night sessions on the radio.

With our primitive wireless sets we did our best for signals frequently faded due to the mountain mass between Tehran Baghdad and Cairo. My section was placed high up in the mountains, receiving and retransmitting the coded signals 鈥� the sheepskin cloak was on duty every night. Technically we were in a warm climate, so had one blanket and a greatcoat, but that was what the book said as we broke the ice each morning for a wash, 8000 or 9000 feet up.

(Well thats Chapters 1 and 2 ... See additional uploads containing Chapters 3, 4 and 5 and Chapter 6 respectively)

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.