大象传媒

People in the story: Location: Durban South Africa
Background of Story: Military - Happy Days in Sud Afrika

Mid April to beginning of July 1945.

HMS Volage had entered Durban, South Africa, having had a horrendous time on a way footing while based at Trincomalee, Ceylon (Sri Lanka) in the Indian Ocean since early February 1945.

Before that up in the Arctic working with the Home Fleet, plus a Russian convoy to Murmansk from Scapa Flow in 1944.

The ship and Ships Company were showing signs of wear and great stress, a whole year of action and duty guarding other ships or executing some pursuits on the world鈥檚 oceans. Just one week home leave, plus two long weekends.

Ships and men though not at actions stations or engaging the enemy all the time in the Royal Navy, endurance of keeping shipshape, exercises in harbour and at sea, endurance of being on watch whether on the upper deck, on bridge, guns, or below at various communications throughout the ship and down below in the boiler and engine rooms. A most long tiring aspect just doing your duty most of your days.

The fickle nature of being on the world鈥檚 oceans, from calm weather to savage wraths that King Neptune can throw at ships of yesterday, today and tomorrow will never end.

War duty to your ship is not only enduring all weather, but expecting that and mortal strike by the enemy to keep you on your guard from them trying to eliminate you. Surprise and luck are the most deciding factors of war.

So it was for us when arriving in Durban, having been met and entertained by the Lady in White singing an opera. To go ashore in a civilised city with houses and street lights on 鈥� IT WAS HEAVEN.

Clean streets, where English was spoken, a smile to us British Sailors in shops, cafes, bars, lots of food, Bio Scopes (cinemas) and parks with flowering trees.

There was two accommodations for overnight stay for us servicemen; S.A.W.S.A. (South African War Servicemen Association) had to book early there, not many rooms with single beds, and All Night Inn a city run accommodation in a large room three tier beds, tea, coffee and cereal in morning at both.

To sleep ashore from the ship, no Bos鈥檔 pipe call and shouts of out lights, out pipes, pipe down at ten o鈥檆lock or watch duties through the night. ENCHANTING.

Durban then in 1945 was very colourful, flowering trees in the parks and especially down on the Marina Park on the sea front, I remember a snake pit with a native attendant handling the poisonous occupants, pleasant walks could chat up the white girls (had been told not to do likewise with native girls or be put in prison).

Of course white only along marina and beach. We went swimming on that beach, though heavy swell needed to be a strong swimmer. Cafes, restaurants, bars and hotels across the road at the back of the beach and marina.

Jack was keen to have a ride on the rickshaws being pulled by strapping native Zulus, men wearing marvellous headdresses and grass skirts plus grass anklets. We could always make rickshaw boys laugh, we would cheer to other shipmates while having a ride on passing them bye.

I remember the two cinemas (Bio Scopes) as the locals call them. The Grand with a large foyer plus tables and chairs, waiter service, you could have an alcoholic beverage before or after pictures, Castle beers, Commando brandy and many other beverages. Spirits were much cheaper than in UK.

The other cinema was called The Play House, an English fa莽ade front on the street, on entering the surrounding walls of the foyer also mock Tudor timber framed. Waiter service here also, sometimes would be treated to a drink by other local patrons, whites only of course. The ceiling was painted black, a night scene and the lights as stars that moved around slowly across the ceiling, very effective. Films shown were British and American.

Each evening after colours, the lowering of our ensign at sunset, bos鈥檔 mate would come through the mess decks piping 鈥淐over Guns鈥� which meant gun crews to draw curtains around back of guns, 4.7 in and place canvas bag over gun muzzle.

Down in the mess A guns crew were playing tombola (Bingo) and left duty to one another. At Duty Officers rounds at 20.00 hrs, A gun was not covered up. The next morning A guns crew were put on a charge and paraded before 1st Lieutenant. All eight of us were put on jankers, our punishment to paint the yard arm.

Leading seamen, our Captain of A gun organised for Ginger Johnny Oseraft to crawl out onto the outer yard arm starboard side to paint and Eric Gates likewise to paint outer yard arm port side with safety harness. The paint pot was secured by a cord to signal halyard, pulled up through a pulley to yard arm from the signal deck. With paint brush tied to their wrists, Ginger and Eric painted outer arms with black paint.

Outer arm painted, Jock Cauldwell and myself took over to paint inner arms, down to the signal platform, someone a name escapes me, did not tie the paint pot on securely and on reaching me the pot fell off. Black paint went splashing over the smoke stack (funnel), and so after finishing painting we had to wash the light grey funnel 鈥� happy days.

After a few days the ships company with kits and hammocks were transferred to camp with wooden huts, temporarily while the ship was painted all over by local native labourers. The camp was called Asigi (native spear) and it overlooked the horse racing track. A lorry would take us to the ship each day for work on ship for the morning, in the afternoon we would get a tram to the city if going on shore leave. There were separate trams and buses for white and black. South African wages were paid by the month, so we were too, instead of the usual fortnightly. Soon our savings and monies had been spent, so we could go to the city with just money for one beer and pictures, we could get a meal in the church canteen FREE.

There was great excitement when we were told that the ships company could chose where to go on a fortnights leave as guests to various private addresses in country farms or towns and Cities. Jock, Eric, Ginger John and myself chose to go to a guest farm at Nottingham Road near Petermarizburgh, a small market town named after a British Nottingham Regiment that was billeted there in the Boer War.

We found ourselves at Durban railway station and had a carriage to ourselves. The front half of the train for whites, the back half for natives who were waiting to board, we had to walk through them, what amused us lads was that very few native women wore bras at the time and some of the females were very buxom with bosoms to match.

Arriving at Nottingham Road, our host farmer Mr Smythe met us and drove us to his farm a few miles out of town, where his wife, their daughter Mrs Reid and her two children, two paying guests Mrs Howard and her sister, plus native kitchen staff and two or three native children, a very honourable welcome.

We were shown to a clean rondarval (round thatched hut), and told dinner would soon be ready. We could shower in another hut and clean ourselves up. Off with uniforms to wear shorts and tops (white fronts) it was a lovely temperature in the evenings and hot day time.

Our greeting at the table from Mrs Smythe was that we looked exhausted and tired and needed some wholesome food, while at the farm she did just that, we had lots of wholesome food.

The first days were spent lazing around the farm, making use of their swimming pool, playing with the Reid children and the native children. One evening Mr Reid asked us if we would like to watch the hay making on the farm. The next day we crossed to another valley where bullock teams of twelve (Sussex African) cross oxen were pulling hay that had been put on sledges back to the home farm (a wheeled cart would not have crossed the terrain).

It was heavy going for the bullock teams (two), the oxen would pull the sledge about a hundred yards and stop, tongues hanging out and gasping for breath. A small local boy was leading each team hanging on to a rope attached to the leading oxen, his head didn鈥檛 reach their shoulders, he would call out COO WEE. Repeating the call every time the oxen stopped, the call could be heard to echo throughout the valley.

A native driver with a long whip, though not hitting the oxen but over their heads, was singing in local language all the time while on the move or stopped to encourage them. After a few minutes they would move again, then stopping again with COO WEE sounding again through the valley. This scene I can still see and hear in my mind today (60 years on).

Eventually getting back to home farm we lads set too, unloading the sledges and making a hay rick, myself having worked on a friend鈥檚 farm in the UK, placed myself in charge of making the rick, where a touch of experience is required. Us sailors using hay forks made the local native men smile in amazement.

Were we lads tired the next day, we didn鈥檛 do much, just stayed around the pool. On another day Mr Smythe took us into town and left us to go about his business. We found a bar and had a light lunch, we then proceeded to try some of South Africa鈥檚 liquors, trying them all one after another, I can鈥檛 remember how many. We decided to go to the pictures, a film titled 鈥淔oreman went to France鈥�. All of must have fallen asleep; we woke up as the lights came on.

It was time for Mr Smythe to meet us, when we arrived back at the farm we decided to go for a swim, I clever like, dived in the deep end scraping my nose on the concrete bottom, came up with my nose bleeding, I hear about it to this day from shipmates.

On another time we helped to drive oxen and cattle through a chemical dip, looking out so that we didn鈥檛 get soaked, we had a stick each and we did quite a bit of running about that day. Helping out on the farm enabled us to get fit again.

We were twice invited to visit other farms, once for lunch, and another time for afternoon tea. We walked across hills each time, it was a long way by rods, we were just given direction and off we went.

We had enjoyable hosts each time, Jock and myself being gardeners had to go round the hosts gardens giving advice. On the walk back to home farm, Eric picked up a small snake by its tail to chase us, but he let it go again s it could have been poisonous he didn鈥檛 know. Both times on our safaris we saw Springbok (small antelopes).

Our fortnight stay came to an end and we had to say our farewells, as on arrival, everyone turned out to say goodbye and for us to say our thank-yous individually to all. We all four felt mentally and physically much fitter than on our arrival with the hospitality and wonderful food that we received.

Lofty John Mills
A8888737

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