大象传媒

We left Bristol early one evening a fortnight later. I think we embarked in Liverpool. There were eight of us, all A.T.S.that were given one pretty small cabin in which to sleep in bunk beds and little else. In peace time it must have been quite a comfortable cabin for two, but oh! so boiling hot and inadequate for eight! Most of us slept outside on deck and we all managed to get on pretty well and I made very good friends with one or two of them. One in particular called Margaret.

We passed the coast of Spain near Taranto and saw some of the remains of the Spanish fleet which had been scuttled. The Rock of Gibraltar and then Malta. I shall never forget that early morning we arrived in the harbour at Valletta. It was five in the morning, and I was on deck - late June and the sun had risen bathing the cliffs around in a rosy glow. The sea was deep green and young native boys swam between the moored ships and dived for pennies. It was such a different world to the one I had just left. I had never been out of England before. I suppose we stayed outside Malta for about a couple of hours (we weren't allowed to go on shore) and the last part of our journey began.

We arrived in Port Said fairly late that night. I was the 'Baggage Officer' for the A.T.S. contingent, and was walking down the quay in the dark, when from a nearby hut a head popped out of the window and shouted, "Hello Sarge, have a cuppa!" He was a British Tommy, a cockney, and how I longed to stay and have a chat and an English cup of tea, but business had to come first.

The next morning we boarded our train to Cairo. A long journey ahead and the heat intense, about a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade. It was a typical Egyptian train of that time with some of the local population sitting cross-legged on the roof, others hanging onto the carriages outside. I suppose it was much cheaper for them travelling that way, and it was 1945 - probably that mode of travel has now been modernised.
My friend Margaret and the two young male officers and myself, plus one or two others chared a carriage. After an hour or so I battled my way down the corridor to the W.C. - a very ramshackle affair with a flimsy door, if you could call it that. Whilst there the train stopped at a village to board more passengers, so I waited until it was well under way before I tried to get out. This proved much more difficult than I had imagined as the newly boarded passengers, men and women, had decided to sit against the door. I pushed, they shoved, and eventually the door broke off! I was hauled out by two men wearing turbans and naked except for their
loin-cloths. They lifted me onto their shoulders and I indicated to which carriage I wished to return. By that time my companions and others realised my plight, and the train reverberated to the strains of "Two old ladies locked in the lavatory, there they sat from Sunday to Saturday"!
Unfortunately my escort pushed me into the carriage before mine and, amidst much hilarity, I was pulled out of the window head first and retrieved bodily by my companions and returned to my rightful place.

At midday we were pulled into a siding for three hours, no refreshments available, to allow King Farouk and his entourage to travel back to Cairo from Alexandria in his personal train. He had priority and in all that heat the wait seemed interminable. Consequently we were very late and very tired when we reached Cairo and the Continental Hotel for the night. It was near the famous Shepherd's Hotel which had been destroyed by fire and burnt to the ground a few months earlier.

Next day I received my marching orders - I was to be in sole charge of Palestinian A.T.S. in a large Military Hospital in
Tel-el-Kebir, situated in the desert and opposite the Sweet Water Canal, ninety miles from Cairo and thirty miles from Ismalia. I would be accommodated in the Officers' Mess (fifty per cent English doctors and fifty per cent Jewish) but was to have my own bedroom in the Sisters' quarters in which to sleep, as I would be the only female Officer attached to the medical staff.

When I arrived I was warmly received and was also introduced to Umberto, an Italian living in the P.O.W.Camp nearby - he was to be my batman, and he looked after me like a nanny! He had not been back to Italy for ten years, having first been fighting in Abyssinia and then against us until he was captured by our troops in the Middle East.

My Palestinian A.T.S. were largely those who had fled from varius countries in Europe, such as Germany, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, France etc. Many had lost their parents, brothers or sweethearts in that dreadful purge of the Jews by the Nazis. One of my A.T.S. had witnessed the shooting of both her parents but had managed to escape. It was difficult for me to converse with those very brave and often grief-stricken women owing to the language difficulties, as none could speak English and very few Hebrew, but my Sergeant, Ruth, could speak both and she was my interpreter. Her father was a Don at the University in Jerusalem. My A.T.S. lived in tents within the perimeter - some had Degrees and were allocated to work in the Pathological Laboratory and similar departments - in fact, many were highly trained.

I worked hard throughout the day but also played hard during the evenings as I enjoyed a wonderful social life, and frequently visited Cairo, Ismalia and Alexandria. I was returning from the latter one Monday midday, having spent the weekend there, when we reached Tel-el-Kebir and my escort said he would also get off the train, (he was going on to the next station, Al Qassasin)as he didn't want to leave me alone whilst awaiting transport. I assured him I would be perfectly alright, and he continued on his journey. I was in uniform and had a suitcase with me and also a travelling rug. I immediately went to Movement Control and asked the soldier (who was English) at the desk if he would telephone the hospital to send down a car to transport me back there. That was at
one p.m. By two-thirty the heat and the flies in the waiting room were unbearable so I requested another call to the hospital. By three o'clock after a further call, when I was informed that any available drivers were unable to collect me until five p.m, I decided to go it alone. I went outside the station, the stench was terrible and a seething mass of Egyptian men and women surrounded me demanding money. A taxi drove up and I had difficulty in pushing myself and my luggage into the rear. As we were about to move a second driver got in beside the other, and they raced onto the road alongside the canal itself. Within a few minutes they looked back at me and, with grins all over their faces said, "We no taking you to hospitally, Sister" (the Q.A.I.N.S. also wore similar khaki uniforms) and I knew by their faces that they weren't joking. I clutched by belongings and wondered how I could get out to the cab without injuring myself as we were going so fast. Then, coming around a corner was a large coach (driven by and Egyptian) heading towards us on the wrong side of the road. My driver slowed down, I wrenched open my door and fell out onto the road with my luggage and espied a W.D. Ambulance manned by Africans coming up behind. They helped me up and drove me to the hospital where I was revived with brandy. My colleague, and a great friend, telephoned our intelligence and a Major from that department arrived at five p.m. to interview me. He was so understanding and said I hadn't panicked and that I was lucky to be alive. He also said that I could have been taken to a nearby village (out of bounds to all British troops) full of brothels and very undesirable characters and it was very unlikely that I would ever have returned, or they might have driven me into the desert, robbed and/or raped me and left me for dead. I never went near that station again.

On a quite different occasion I had returned to the hospital from a party. It was two in the morning and all the lights were on in the Sisters' quarters. Everyone was awake and there was much activity. there had been a raid on our W.D. Store close to our quarters. Before going into my bedroom I was told that the raiding party (armed) had fired bullets through my room, some close to my bed, very visible when I examined the damage. I was thankful I had been out that evening.

Another event during my stay in 'Tek' (as we called it) was so very sad. I was travelling in a van with others when a large truck ahead, full of soldiers and A.T.S. (from a different unit), suddenly stopped. Those inside had been sitting on benches facing each other and leaning on the canvas behind their backs. A similar vehicle, also with canvas sides had passed by from the opposite direction. A metal object against their canvas had dealt a fatal blow to the heat of a young A.T.S. girl (leaning against her canvas) as the two vehicles passed causing her immediate death. Because of the immense heat, she was buried after only a few hours and was lowered in her coffin into a quickly dug grave - a hole in the desert. I attended her funeral, full military honours, and I grieved for her family and friends and for her - in the midst of life, alone and far from home.

During my first four months in 'Tek' I was able to meet up with my unmarried sister, Nancy. She was a W.R.N.S. attached to the naval Base in Suez. She was their Fleet Mail Officer. It was wonderful seeing her. I was sad when her tour of duty ended in the autumn and she returned home to be demobbed. She went back to her previous job in the city of London for a few months so was not living at home. Meanwhile my mother had suffered a severe stroke (she was only fifty-eight) and was being nursed at home and my father just couldn't manage on his own. So, in April 1946, I also went back (by sea) to England where I was discharge on 'compassionate grounds'.

Before going back I spent a week touring Palestine and saw so many interesting places but unfortunately, there was a curfew on Jerusalem at that time so I was not allowed in. I fell in love with Haifa, visited Bethlehem and Capernaum and also crossed the River Jordan, one late evening, where I dined in a tent with members of the British Legion. We sat Cross-legged and pulled a chicken (one each) apart with our bare hands. The moon was overhead that night, and we could hear the plaintive cry of the jackals.

I felt so sad when I left Port Said, so many good friends and colleagues that I might never see again. I was very happy to see my family on my return, but my heart was still heavy for the life I had left.

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