大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Stan Baines and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Phase 2 Desert Campaign Alamein

Having survived the Dunkirk Holocaust, we are now preparing for our next assignment. We have been equipped with new vehicles and wireless sets; the new 25 pounder guns are far superior than we were sent to France with. We were stationed at Holt in Norfolk, and had enjoyed a little relaxation after duty in this market town and we were raring to go. We had been issued with a tropical kit but "where"?! That is the question. Then the order came to pack and be ready to move out. We boarded a train at Holt Station speculating on where we were going鈥� near East鈥� Far East? Eventually, we arrived at the Port of Gourok in Scotland and straight on board the "Duchess of Atholl", a Canadian Pacific Liner adapted as a trooper. We set sail out into the Atlantic to join a convoy of merchant ships, and our escort of destroyers to protect us from the enemies' U Boats and bombers.

I volunteered to work in the ships' galley, which was very exciting, especially when the ship started rolling and things started moving around. We christened her the Drunken Duchess.

Many of us became seasick and there were about a thousand passengers, so it was a bit chaotic queuing for the toilets and showers! Our first port of call was "Freetown" on the Gold Coast. We had to pick up water and supplies but we didn't go ashore. We were entertained by the natives who would dive for coins or anything you threw overboard.

Our next port of call was Cape Town, where we stayed four days and were allowed ashore. The locals were waiting for us, so they could show us around the town and invite us into their homes. They asked us our names and addresses and said they would write to our families to let them know we were okay, which, in my case, I know they did as they promised. After this brief respite from life on board a troopship, it was back on the high-seas, zig-zagging in an attempt to dodge the enemies, U boats and bombers who were going all out to stop us reaching our next port of call, which turned out to be the end of our sea voyage. Altogether, it had taken eight weeks. It was great to set foot on 'terre-firma'. We had arrived at Port 'Chuwfik'. We disembarked, and boarded our transport which was to take us to a camp on the 'Cairo' road, namely 'El Tahag', to get acclimatised. It was said that every mile along the road was a Naffi and one of Sharto's cinemas. We set up our RHQ and I had to settle to the job of feeding the members of this RHQ. We received our rations delivered by the RASC, to the Quartermasters Stores, who then issued me our share of them; they were slightly different from those we received in the UK. There was fresh meat; but the vegetables consisted of sweet potatoes, dehydrated cabbage, and water melons. I did my best to provide a decent meal with what I had at my disposal.

Breakfast was porridge, tinned bacon, beans or tomatoes. Tea was whatever I could rustle up from incidentals amongst the rations tinned cornbeef, and fish "Pilchards", jam bread and butter, tinned milk (Carnation). There were no complaints; everybody settled down in their various tasks, we were awakened every morning to the sounds of the local Arabs selling tea, eggs and bread, all cooked twice; "Lubly Tea Plenty Sugar Plenty Milk" which they carried in urns on their backs; you produced your mug, and it was filled up for a few piastas or ackars. We had trips to Cairo, and Alexandria. I remember going into a Turkish Bath which was a wonderful experience, and then it was back to reality. It was time to go to war again, and with the Pyramids disappearing in the distance we found ourselves entering the Libyan Desert, and it was back to ducking and diving again. RHQ was slightly behind the front line, and apart from the odd raids and shell fire, it wasn鈥檛 too bad.

October 23rd 1942.
Then suddenly it was all hell let loose. The guns started to bombard the German lines, and continued throughout the night, the next day the German and Italian forces were in full retreat, and we were on the move again passing groups of Italian and German troops who had been taken prisoner. The next few days it was a dawn to dusk chase through the desert which was littered with burnt out vehicles, and tanks. We had our first experience of a sandstorm, and it was horrendous. Sand was everywhere 鈥� eyes, nose, hair, boots, food: visibility was nil. The sandstorm subsides but the landscape has changed with a layer of sand making driving conditions difficult to keep up with the retreating Germans. The Italians seem to have given up; numbers of prisoners taken are increasing every day. The vehicle I was travelling in became stuck in loose sand, and we all had to get out to push the vehicle on to firmer ground.

We came under fire from German artillery, and dive bombers. A shell exploded just in front of the vehicle, and the shrapnel came under to where we were standing. The man standing next to me screamed and fell to the ground, the shrapnel embedded in his legs. We shouted to an ambulance close by, and the last I saw of him was being carried off on a stretcher. We carried on trying to catch the rest of the unit which we eventually did, and reported the loss of one man, and so we continued our relentless pursuit of the enemy through the desert from dawn 'til dusk with stops for food, and drink. Our rations were mostly tinned from ration packs. Each pack contained enough food for ten men for one day.

Water was scarce, and recycled sea-water was a supplement, and was better than no water at all. Water used for washing was saved to fill the radiator of our vehicle. Petrol was used for cooking when we stopped long enough to do any, most groups had their own home made 鈥淏anghaz鈥� cookers: petrol and sand and a four gallon petrol can.

The powers that be had decided that we had served our purpose in the Alamein campaign, and we found ourselves being deployed to another force on the Persia-Iraq border. We were under canvas in a village named Eski-Kirfi not far from Baghdad. We were given leave in Baghdad, and I remember going to a cinema, and seeing the film Gone with the Wind 鈥� quite a pleasant change from chasing the enemy. The respite over it was back to duty.

The powers that be decided to send me on a course to qualify as a tradesman which would mean an increase in pay. So here I am on my way to a training centre just outside Beirut. On arrival, I was issued with a daily pass to be used after duty. It was dated 7/6/43. How do I know? Because I still have the pass along with others from the same period. It was on one of my trips into Beirut I contracted "Sand Fly Fever", and was admitted into hospital, and during my stay it was discovered I had ingrowing toenails which turned septic, and it was found necessary to have an operation to remove them; it couldn鈥檛 be done at the hospital I was in so I was transferred to the 12th British GRN Hospital in Sarafand, Palestine. All this took some time, and when I was discharged fit, I was posted to a transit camp to await my unit to apply for my return. But this never happened because they had been moved to Italy to take part in the invasion of Italy, and they had landed at Salerno.

So here I am surplus to requirements, until another unit is short of manpower, and needs someone of my experience to bring them up to strength. Well! It wasn't long before the call came for me to join another unit, and so it was another phase in my military history that was soon to begin, and I was on my way to join the 76th (H) Field Regt. RA. The H stood for Highland so I went from a Lancashire Artillery Regiment to one from Scotland, and I am happy to say I was welcomed with open arms. Although I think I had jumped from the frying pan into the fire it would appear that this unit was on its ways back to the UK to prepare for the second front. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn鈥檛 got "Sand Fly Fever" and returned to my old unit, and gone with them to Italy, and become a "D Day" Dodger as they became known as, when the Italians capitulated, and changed sides. Well here I am back in the UK to prepare for another phase of World War II: The Landings in Normandy.

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