Previous chapter: The isle of Man
November and December 1940
The next morning we found ourselves alongside a large ship tied up alongside another liner in the port of Fleetwood, north of Liverpool. A large steel door opened in the side of the ship and a gangway was put down to the deck of our ferry. We all marched up it, went straight through to the other side, across another gangway, into a similar large opening and found ourselves on the good ship “Andes“, which was to transport us to Egypt. A very neat piece of work I thought, giving no one anytime to have second thoughts, and letting no one know what was happening.
The Andes was a fine ship, just newly built, having completed her sea trials in May 1940. She was packed with troops, 6,000 of us so it was said. No time was wasted, and the next day we set off once more to join a large convoy, all ships being well known liners, about twelve or fourteen as I remember. Near us in the convoy was the Andes’ sister ship “Reina del Pacifico“, and three of the “Strath” ships – Strathallan, Strathaird and Strathnaver. I can remember also the Duchess of Bedford and the Duchess of Atholl, as well as one of the Empress ships, the Empress of Canada, I think.
We made a fine sight on a sparkling morning in mid-November as we assembled. This time we could actually see some escort vessels. The sea was smooth and no one was seasick.
Next morning we were well out in the North Atlantic and found that we had a cruiser with us, as well as a couple of destroyers. The trip took six weeks and was uneventful, except for a stop at Sierra Leone for water, and a two-day lay up in Durban. We were allowed ashore there and had a hectic time; such was the hospitality of the South Africans. About the only thing that sticks in my mind about Durban was the march through the town behind our very own piper, Jock Grant from Inverness.
Our CO, Major Oliver decided that 295 Coy. would parade, smartly turned out and wearing our sun helmets, and march up the main street which was about a mile long. Furthermore, we had Jock Grant out in front, to play us along. All went well, and the populace lined the pavements and cheered as we marched past in time to the martial music from the pipes. All went well that is, until coming the other way marching toward us was another unit, much larger than ours, and bringing up the rear a military band with the drummer beating out the time on the big drum. They were light infantry and their marching pace was faster than ours. The leading troops, as they met us, could hear our piper better than their own band which was a long way behind them. They began to pick up our step and started to bob up and down in a chaotic fashion, while their officers and sergeants were going crazy trying to get them back in step again.
We were amused by this, until the oncoming band got nearer when we too began losing the step, and marching to the thump of their drum. The onlookers who had been cheering our brave lads were falling about laughing as the two opposing sides passed each other. The major was looking as if he wished he hadn’t thought of the idea, and Jock Grant was the only one who kept his dignity, marching steadily forward and not missing a note. It was his swan song though. He was never asked to play us along again.
Back on board we set off for the final lap. We had a sighting of the Cunard Queen Elizabeth, sailing alone on the horizon on her way back to England after taking troops to the Middle East. She must have been on one of her first voyages, having been launched late in 1939. The journey up the long waste of the Indian Ocean was idyllic: perfect weather, blue sea, and a long swell, which never altered for days on end. We had our sea legs by this time, and it was a glorious sensation to stand in the bows and feel the vessel rise forty or fifty feet, and then majestically plunge down into the water, sending spray flying over us.
By watching the other ships in the convoy it was possible to see what was happening to ours. Every ship in unison would lift on the swell until the whole bow section was clear of the water and you could see right under the first hundred feet or so of the ships length. Then the bows would go down and the stern come out, showing the screws revolving in air instead of water. This went on continually, and I wondered how the engine room managed to control the propellers when they were constantly going in and out of the water.
We had a number of porpoises or dolphins swimming alongside, rhythmically rising and plunging in again, keeping pace precisely with us, as if having a jolly good time. We saw flying fish for the first time. At night we were allowed to sleep on deck, and it was a delight to see the stars in all their multitude, including the Southern Cross low down astern. As no ship carried any lights at all, the stars were at their full brilliance. The mastheads moved to and fro across the sky and the constellations seemed to be rushing backward and forward. Whilst the voyage was becoming a pleasure cruise from that point of view, it was becoming a hardship in another, for the ship was running out of food and our diet became ever more monotonous. The last week of the trip, the only food, morning, noon, and night was beans and bacon. A hard red bean and strips of very salty bacon. We did however still have the “figgy duff’ on Sunday, a delicious, currant filled, steamed pudding which marked the passage of the weeks.
Christmas was fast approaching, and on Christmas Eve we had turned the Horn of Africa and began to enter the Red Sea. On our left was Italian Somaliland. The Italian navy had war ships in the port of Djibouti. The Andes was completely darkened, with blue emergency lighting only in the troop decks etc., and we were warned against allowing any spark of light to show.
We heard there was beer on sale down in one of the canteens, but after a couple of hours of queuing down long dark passageways, we found it had all gone. When daylight came on Christmas Day we had passed the danger point. Early on the morning of New Year’s Eve 1940 we checked in at Port Said.