大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Julia Shuvalova for GMR Actiondesk on behalf of Alfred Howarth and has been added with his permission. The author is fully aware of the terms and conditions of the site.

The train pulled alongside the landing stage at Liverpool and as we piled out, we got out first glimpse of the 20,000 ton Mooltan, an ancient P&O vessel formerly on the India run. Few of us now gawping at the enormous vessel had seen, let alone sailed in such an enourmous ship. But it was to be our home for the next five or six weeks - if we were not torpedoed of course.

Eventually we staggered up the gang plank, emerging in a writhing mass upon what was grandly termed the Promenade Deck. We were quickly directed below, hobnailed boots chattering on steel plates until we reached our mess deck well below the water line. Row upon row of mess tables, each to seat perhaps a dozen men, and at the far end ablations and lavatories, quite en suite. When the hammocks were slung one had to walk about bent double rather like Quasimodo. I wondered what it was going to be like cooped up in an atmosphere of sweating bodies night after night. I was soon to find out.

Suddenly we were aware that the gang plank was being hauled aboard. Everyone rushed to watch. Being cast off from the shore had a certain finality about it; and sadly, for many of those excited passengers, it was to be a one way ticket.

As Mooltan edged out into the Mersey, a solitary figure, presumably a docker, stood watching. Somewhere a tug's hooter sounded. The man lifted his cap to us and slowly walked away.

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