大象传媒

Part 9 Life had returned to normal routine of army life.

It was time to get back into some sort of shape. Parades on the open deck could now be held. Physical exercise bit a large chunk out of the morning with its organised runs around the top decks.
He had lived in that environment below deck, now he was on the open deck and breathing that magnificent salty tasting fresh air. Appetite for food was growing at a rate that he could even swallow the Lucifer concoction served below deck. Daily exercise was essential, one way was to be assembled to run around the open decks, it didn鈥檛 help him to come to terms with his army diet as he was running around the open decks to see the officers in their dinning room tucking into a hearty meal.
On the tables鈥� of these people were nice white tablecloths, four to a table and around them the orderlies in white, standing there to serve them? They looked pretty full of good food and a million miles away from the food below deck.
It was a time of wondering why soldiers in the same army needed such different standards. We were all a part of the same war machine; good quality nosh for all should have been the main requisite.

He had experienced the depths of discomfort with days of seasickness, now he was to enter the blackest hour of the whole trip. Even now he feels the utter depths of fear of this event. Orders were given to return to their own decks. Within a short time the watertight door was being closed and slid to the closed position with a resounding clank. There was nothing to do except stare at this wall of steel that now was fully in place and no way could it be opened. Air conditioning the only noise in what could be a watery tomb terrified him. The ship's master's duty would be to his ship, the trapped men would be low on his priorities, Maybe it seemed the right thing then but the real experience now leaves him cold. Feelings for this period can only be described as being compressed into the deck space and drowned in its emptiness. Fired up with emotion his body movement became solid then a shaking mass which did nothing to help. The continuous air circulator hum and the beat of propeller shaft was now the only connection with the outside world. To add to the drama some guns on the deck fired a few rounds of ammunition. It was now time to change the fear to being terrified.

When the all clear came and the doors were opened there was the feeling of being glad to be alive. Trapped behind that watertight door left him with that fear of enclosed space, lifts from that date are avoided if possible. When the doors of the lift slide to close the breathing becomes difficult,

Seasick times were out of the way the world and all things in the ship鈥檚 innards were at peace. Weather conditions had improved; there was abundance of free time and for the first time he was able to look at the other things going on in the sea around him with sound objectivity watched the panorama of ships around him and realised his small part in this man made paramilitary force. Each ship displaying confidence that his new world was sound, there would never be such a magnificent sight again. Their protectors the Royal Navy Escorts moving in between them were magnificent to watch as they moved with extra speed through the waters. Winking signals pushed out from the different ships. Bunting signals forever changing, with this deluge of activity going on around him he drifted off into his inactive world of dream making.
Turbulence caused by the propellers thrashing the sea threw beautiful white foam that was turning within its self then as it breaks the surface it fanned out from the ship鈥檚 stern that could be seen for miles.
There was something magical about this ship in her good moods and a calm sea. The ship and the sea had levelled out and plods on peacefully.

Issue of rupees and annas.

At least the new rumours were something to break the monotony of the journey. All were assembled and given talks on the value of rupees and annas. It looked as if the 15th Battalion Welch Regiment was on its way to the Far East. At time it seemed as good a place as any other. There was very little news about that Theatre of war; with the power of hindsight he was lucky it was to be the Middle East and Europe not the Far East.

As the ship plodded on, the climate changed and got warmer, relaxing. With the luxury of a warm sun clothing was reduced to the new issue of shorts. Terrible things, that were designed with turn-ups that could be let down to three-quarter length looking ridiculous even at the best of times. It was even harder to find any pride in wearing the things. New they kept their shape; the washing in salt-water soap stained them and collapsed the shape of the things. Within a short time the turn-ups hung away from the shorts like the dying leaves of a flower. They were uncomfortable and unsightly.

Something new was happening as the ship was being prepared for the crossing of the Equator. On the open deck the extra large canvas water tank, and around it seats and places set up to watch the ceremony. Father Neptune and his Courtiers sat on their thrones beaming with the expectation of the comical sights they knew were about to happen. Other people dressed for their part sat in chairs looking the part and dressed for a good soaking the essential part for the initiation into the Realm of Shellbacks. Father Neptune sits there with a large scroll and the first victim is made ready. The wording of his announcement is lost in the laughter of all watching. Then with great panache the victim's face is lathered and shaved with a huge wooden open razor. Once lathered the victim was then tipped into the tank of water. His 'Shellback' certificate didn鈥檛 have that same charisma.
The boring repetition returns to the normal life of this squaddie. Much of the spare time was spent on deck looking at the convoy around him. Escorts moved around with their bunting displaying messages to convoy. He hadn't tired of the ships. They were a fine and a reassuring sight.

There was one ship a bit more special than the others it carried a seaplane attached to a crane on its rear end. It was the aircraft that made it so different to the others At times the ship dropped to the back of the convoy, from this position the aircraft took off to patrol the skies and sea around them
Aboard his ship was a man from the Royal Navy signal鈥檚 division. Again it was one of those 'lucky' days. There was a place for the two to sit together and smoke. It was the usual opening, the weather and how calm the sea was then the dialogue changed to talking about ships in the convoy. It was then that the lad talked about his father鈥檚 ship, there was a pause in the conversation, and then pointed to the ship with the aircraft sitting on the ship鈥檚 stern. That鈥檚 the 鈥楥ilicia鈥�, she鈥檚 an armed cruiser.
Right from the beginning of the trip that ship had stood out from the others. From then on it was to watch it, then wonder why the world was so small. Within all the thousands of people there in this convoy father and son where within spitting distance, and no way to communicate.

First sighting of Free Town.

Day鈥檚 later and many travelled miles the first sighting of land and their first stop Free Town. He had convinced himself it would be easy and made the first attempt to contact his father. There were lots of comings and goings between the ships at anchor. One of the small boats paid his ship a visit. A by chance meeting (engineered by him) took place with one of the visiting crewmembers and was able to talk to him.
At the time it seemed reasonable request asking him if he could pass on a letter to his father. Every thing seemed to be going fine, and was sure the man meant what he said, but no letter was delivered.

Lots of other things were going on in this safe harbour of Free Town. The general excitement for all cooled when it was realised that they were not allowed ashore. The land looked even more wonderful, that longing just to stand on a surface that remained perfectly stationary out-weighed almost everything else. Now he changed the direction of his gaze to the moving shipping. Dutch fresh water tankers with their National flag flying moved around replenishing the ships fresh water then to disappear to be envied that they were tying up some where and going home.
Other changes were taking place, from the shore line small shapes changed into canoes. Eventually they came along side and shouted, "Johnny do you want to buy." then pointing to the loaded canoe with all sorts of merchandise. Any agreed sale and up came the rope. Once agreed the item was then tied onto the end of the rope and then pulled up. Cash to pay for it then lowered in the bag provided.
Some of the lads misbehaved themselves by messing the people in the canoes about by holding onto the goods and not paying. Wasn't very happy about it and wondered off to look for the 鈥楥ilicia鈥�, It was hot, in some ways the bartering between ship and canoe was all a bit of a laugh, and had been a new experience.

Cilicia disappearing in the distance.

With all these things going on the Cilicia had moved out and he could see her disappearing in the distance. There was nothing he could do that was that and disappointed that there was no message from his Dad.
Within a short time there was a change in the tempo-taking place in the ship. Engines were turning the propellers and moving the ship in the direction of the open sea. With some satisfaction from him they were on the move and glad to be heading for the open sea. Movement of the ship did at least channel some air into the place. Salt-water showers on deck were in great demand by all the lads, each taking a turn under it in an effort to cool down the body. Somehow that blasted saltwater soap hardly seemed to dissolve to make any lather but at least the water was refreshing. Washing clothes was almost impossible; no matter how hard the effort the cloth remained dirty looking. Perhaps if they could have been pressed in some way other than placing them under the bed it may have improved their appearance.

Set into the ship routine the importance of taking limejuice, and not to get sunburned. Sunburn was an offence; the charge was damaging Government Property. Loss of pay was the important damage to him, so no sunburn.
Weather conditions were now the best he had experienced blue skies, sunshine in the right quantities. There seemed to be no movement in the ship as she plodded on. Perhaps the sun had taken toll of his senses; only thing alive was the engine noise pulsating through the ship and the continuing noise of the air conditioner. Moving about was easy, even the exercise runs around the deck fitted into things O鈥橩.
Useless inspections filled more of the official duties but they had the feeling of being totally detached from the reality of war. Sick parades were poorly attended. Entertainment very limited, a few of the lads organised the game of housey, housey. It was his first introduction into the game. His luck still held and provides money to spend in the 鈥楯olly Shop鈥�.

The 鈥楯olly Shop鈥� a storeroom below decks with a limited view of the contents. Its door split in two, (stable door type of thing) the top opened to serve the customer, its bottom half to deny entrance to the gold mine in the sky for those running it.
In the main the prices were a rip off. There was no other place to go, and it did help to supplement the army meals..

Haircuts were a necessary evil. The brains of the outfit had a set of hairdressing tools; who ever owned the hair cutting tools meant that he had the monopoly of the hair cutting. The only qualification was that he owned a pair scissors and hair clippers. He improved his hair cutting as time went on, paraded men powerless to complain. As long as the barber attacked the skull with scissors and clippers the damage and looks were small coal. It had been cut, all was fine, (except the top of this head,) the King could return to his throne pleased that his soldier had met with King鈥檚 Regulations. By the time it came to leave the ship the soldier barber had got a lot better and maybe the richer member of the draft.

Cape Town.

His first sight of Cape Town was one without any restrictions on lighting showing that Table mountain behind it, it was a welcoming sight. There was no doubt about it there could be only one mountain with that shape and its size dwarfing the city that lay below it. Its Rocky terrain seemed to be pressing the city into the ground below it, as the ship neared its docking berth the mountain was king; his disappointment of seeing his father鈥檚 ship disappearing over the horizon was over. He was going ashore for the first time in weeks.
The ship had docked and tied up. A parade was called to inform the troops going ashore the do鈥檚 and the do nots. Many things that were normal to us were not allowed under the laws of that land. More problems were in store for him and the rest of them there were no record of this Draft; they had lost their files. They were going ashore for the first time in weeks and were now having the trouble in getting pay, added to this, no billet and bedding arrangements ashore. It looked as if his stay in Cape Town was going to be a bleak affair. Even loaded with these uncertainties ashore he wanted to part Company with the ship and its environment.
At last the parade was dismissed; within the ranks there was an overwhelming volume of voices of excitement that bubbled out in all directions, nobody wanted to delay it by even one second. Sea legs were now to feel solid land A bit wobbly at first but with a freedom of not being penned in to that restricted space within the ship. Those first few moments on Terra Firmer let the feet at least move about in a natural way, everything felt so solid under foot. The war conditions he had left were to be replaced with an abundance of goodies. He with the rest of the young Europeans were for the first time to see the mighty African different cultures in the flesh as he set off for a transit camp. What else was there to experience?

First the importance was the colour of the body skin in this country. Apartheid enforced by the South African Government allowed no social contact with any of the coloured races. Our own people and the heavy hand of their police strictly enforced it. There would be no excuses. Anybody breaking their laws would be returned to the ship. It soon became clear with the abundance of notice boards that there was segregation of the colours. Every public building displayed these notices, the first reaction was to ignore them, the authorities were deadly earnest, ignore them at your peril. There was a case a British Coloured soldier not being allowed ashore. With typical youth indifference he was only interested in getting ashore, and to that special canteen.
Notices and the general flow of people made it were easy to find the hall of plenty. Food displayed was beyond his wildest dreams. For a shilling the choice was unlimited; and took more than he really wanted from that bounteous display, every thing there was fresh. Those days afloat had corrupted his sense of proportion; he had paid his shilling and was not really caring what anyone thought about the over-loaded plate. For the first time in what seemed ages he was full of the delights of fresh food. Now he was ready to meet the city of Cape Town in the face.

Every thing about Cape Town was new; (except for the salt-water washed clothing he was wearing.) this was a new wartime experience walking around with Blackout restrictions lifted. Shops with their lights fully on displayed the endless variety of merchandise, sympathy for the people back home clouds the pleasures he now experiencing. Luxury of chocolate and all the other things almost non-existence in his country he could buy. Cape Town鈥檚 pleasures were endless, (if the money was available).
The new day had arrived bathed in brilliant sunshine. Solid ground of the camp had lost its appeal, with few remaining shillings he set off for the hall of plenty once again. Money was tight but just getting there for another shilling鈥檚 worth did at least stretch the legs and the pleasure of eating. It turned out to be the right decision to make.
The glutinous meal of the day before was replaced with a more balanced one at this visit. Again it was a place that was well patronised by all the services. Seating spaces at times were at a premium as he walked in search he noticed an empty one, sitting on the opposite side of the table a RN sailor. For a short time there was no conversation between them, then the odd smile supported with exchanges of cigarettes broke the silence; they started talking. In the main it covered the every-day events. The discussion turned to his father鈥檚 ship disappearing over the Free Town horizon.

Cilicia at Symond Town.

Interested the sailor asked him the name of the ship and was given it. the sailor鈥檚 face screwed up a bit; perhaps being cautious in replying delayed the answer, security was a thing preached to all. Obviously the soldier lad looked genuine to him and replying said that the Cilicia was tied up at Symond Town. Information understood by the sailor meant little to this new arrival. It must have registered, the sailor with a louder voice and pointing finger directed in a way that it could be fully understood even to this dumb head. The important piece of information was that the station was that way and it was a shilling train journey to Symons town.
They looked at one another the sailor with smile of satisfaction and the other sitting there agog, "are you sure." Priorities had changed; everything about the place took on a new meaning. Waiting seemed superfluous, the lad was restless in his seat; if he had wings he would be up there floating around the ceiling.
Shaking hands with bounties of good will and thanks all round that momentous train trip got under-way.

No other shilling of his would be spent to obtain such value. It didn鈥檛 take long, and its final stages of the journey the dock and some of the ships came into view. Everything about him focused on that one particular ship; with that unmistakable aircraft in position on her stern it left no doubt that it was the Cilicia.

Meeting Father.

Even as the train stopped he tried to keep his eye on her in case it was a mirage. As fast as could he reached the dock gate. Within a short distance the building housing the security guard. At first there was little interest in the young soldier as he made his way to the desk. Standing before the nearest one, losing any natural stance blurted out his story. It must have been presented badly, and was asked to repeat it. More positive and in a louder voice, "that ship there is my father's, can I contact him." The other guards looked up, walked over and joined them. That un-usual happy event seemed to be contagious, they were as excited as he was then offered him a drink, and phoned the ship.
The scruffy son had arrived and wondered what the results of this visit would be.

It seemed to be ages of waiting before that little figure running down the gangplank of the ship grew into the full size father with smiling face and outstretched hand to meet his son. He looked him up and down then made his observation. "Ain鈥檛 you a bloody mess?"
This was one of the many visits the Father had made to South Africa, timing for this event was almost a disaster; it was pub closing time outside the dock area. One of the security men also understood the dilemma, with the old wink and a nod they were ushered into a room and their first drink was by courtesy of the dock security. As an added favour the time was extended to have a further drink. These couple of days together what ever was to happen to him in the future, was to be the lad鈥檚 happiest moments. (Most of them anyway)

Scruffy and broke he was given a full father鈥檚 treatment of putting things right. First step to get a change of clothes at the nearest chandler to the gate. Clothing sold there was similar in style to the Government Issue, but better cloth. A feeling of being clean and presentable pleased them both. Rolling up the clothing issue was done with little ceremony and got rid of them by throwing them into the dock.
Now he was a smart soldier ready to move about the town. Questions about cash arrived? Nothing could have been more obvious; his lad鈥檚 pockets carried very little cash. Asking for anything had always been a problem, the answer to the question got little more than a shrug of the shoulders and, 鈥淎 well, you know鈥�. Without any further prompting took some money from his wallet and gave it to the lad. "Must do with that for tonight, tomorrow is another day."

First performance was over, the beer and the new clothing had edged then into a good start, and they were off together on a tour of Cape Town. His father knew his way around; it was time for a meal and stepped off in the direction of a restaurant. It was one of his father's regular stops, its outside deco ample; its inside could fit the description of being posh. Ordering of the meal was left to the Father; it was to be one of his restaurant鈥檚 specials. Time would be the only poison, and had no control over that. Within a short distance the restaurant, good seats were found and orders for a special meal placed, meal over and a lot of words of satisfaction. It was time to change venue to the pub that had been mentioned at the end of the meal. The smell of the beer hung there in the entrance that seemed to lift as they entered the pub. Then through the bar doors into heavy smoking fumes and stale booze that filled the air, hanging like a blanket from ceiling to a height to just above head. It was similar to other places he had visited in the past but with the added spice of being in another country.
As was to be expected they also met people off his ship. It was the first day ashore and they were off to places that provided the livelier entertainment. His father moved over to them and just far enough to be out of earshot. When the whispering ended, they merely nodded and went on their way. The lad well versed in this chose to ignore it and enjoy what was left of the day. Hesitation and balanced wording saved the day. Arrangements were made to meet the next day.

It was into the third day. Even with the usual exchanges he sensed that his father wanted to say a lot more as they made their way to his favourite restaurant, it wasn鈥檛 an overlarge building, just breathing comfort and class. We sat down; each shuffled around to find the most comfort place to park our bums. He looked at the menu then discarded it. "Tonight it's to be only the best." He called over the patron. They knew each other by their first names.
An introduction over and with the shaking of hands then the big pronouncement! This was to be the big night; he wanted T-bone steaks that must cover the bottom of the plate. With exaggerated movements with his hands his finger and thumb turned them into a measure. He gauged that about inch and a half were just about the right thickness. With a little wink at the patron, "they must be treated with care! Not too rare for the lad but show mine to the top of the stove, and as an after thought, 鈥渏ust that tinge of golden brown on the edges. To crown it and a further appetiser on that top surface, two eggs sunny-side up, anything else would only be for decoration." It was to be washed down with a nice cool beer.

The big meal and departure.

Smiling as only he could do looked across the table, and lifted a hand as if giving a blessing said, 鈥檛rust me鈥�. The patron had recorded the detailed order and was about to move away when he asked that two 鈥榟arbour lights鈥� be brought just get the taste buds working properly.

Settled in by now off went the waiter to get that wondrous meal. Appetites were being sharpened by those background smells of fine cooking from the kitchen. All these soft lights and a well-laid out restaurant was something above his finest dreams, memories would hold on to its perfections,
Within a short time another two special drinks arrived. Again these 鈥楬arbour lights鈥� were held together in two beautiful glasses. The drink was again something new to him, his Father knew it and with that twinkle in his eye the glasses were lifted, then the words came, 鈥榙own the hatch鈥�.

He showed some discomfort as he sat surveying the room around him. It was great to hear him chuckle at his wobbling boy. His eyes had taken on that sparkle that seemed to confirm that he too was happy. The thing they had in common was large hands now being used to express even more pleasure.
Time was flowing like a flooded stream and it would only be broken when that huge meal arrived.
There was no doubt that it was good, very good. It was a steak that just melted in the mouth and cooked to perfection. Surrounded with such a good atmosphere, the food lifted the enjoyment even higher.
They both finished the meal at about the same time; singing out praises to the cook, a meal to be remembered. At the right time the table was cleared and the beer was brought in to finish the meal. All small talk had finished; uneasy silence reigned for a short while, sometimes his mouth moved as if to say something only to look down uttering, 鈥淯m or Err鈥� in an effort to start. His only visible relief was fingering his beer as if it could give the right start. As if he didn鈥檛 want his son to hear him, "this is the last evening鈥� for us on this trip. Now I have been travelling these parts for years. Don鈥檛 let me down or yourself by mixing," paused a little and added the words, "well you know who, you know what." It was a struggle for him. Looking straight at the lad raised his voice and blurted out the strong message. "Booze is bad enough but a bad woman! Well you will have a dirty end to your life."
It was his first role as father, giving the advice that was expected of him. He seemed to searching for a way for saying more but declined. Opened eyed at the un-expecting sex talk a babbled reply didn鈥檛 really matter. He had done his 鈥榝athers鈥� duty!

In the final moments of the wonderful evening he emptied his pockets of money and cigarettes and gave them to the lad. "Now, don鈥檛 forget to write, any trouble let me know." They stood there for a while grasping hands, and in that extra strong grip of his. "Now don鈥檛 forget, watch what you're doing."

Neither the lad nor his father seemed to want to break away. It had too come the words had dried up. Their hands had parted and the final parting had started. With small waves of the hands from both of them he turned to return to his ship. Sadness within the lad that he cannot fully comprehended. Why as this got to be the end as he watched his father move away? His inside was bursting as he watched him walking down the street, then to cross over to the other side of the road. As he was about to enter the side street he stopped, looked back and gave a salute and was gone. Fate had brought them together in this foreign land; the meeting was a forever vital part of his life. It would be something to lean on in the bad times ahead. The stars in his eyes were out, the private鈥檚 life though enriched returned to his normal routine. That plod back to the rest Camp was bloody awful nothing seemed to matter. The leave together had been a dream.
They had made their farewells hanging about the camp only lasted a while. There was no point in sulking; the other things could not be faulted. Cash was lasting; the remaining time was there to enjoy the sights of Cape Town.

Dutch Afrikaner Family.

The unexpected was not over, he meet a Dutch Afrikaner girl. Things went well enough for her to take him to home to meet her family. Obviously preparations had been made for his arrival at the house. They arrived as the mother was finishing the preparing of the main meal. Without any hesitation a place was made for him at the table. In the final stages of the evening arrangements were made for a trip to the top of the mountain. The girl was more than pleasing, her family most amenable and the weather was perfect. Who in the hell would want to refuse such an offer?
Perhaps in indecent haste the offer was accepted. Things about the day turned out to be a total success. Being local people short cuts and local transport soon got them all to the top the mountain. He was surprised to see the well-set cultivation, but what made it more dreams like were the beautiful skies and the perfect weather.
Meeting her and the family took up most of the time remaining there; Apartheid must have been important to them but it was never discussed for the time he was in their company it seemed to be of little importance. Warnings given on the ship that it was a risk in accepting such visits were totally ignored. These people were too warm hearted and enjoyed being with them. Could there have been any danger? Possibly.

Things were going on back in the camp that indicated that the time in Cape Town was drawing to a close. He was a young person with stars in his eyes grabbing only at the present and wishing that all the bad things will go away and that ship waiting would sail away. Sadly like all good things it had to come to an end.

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