DESTINATION - EGYPT - 9EE DRAFT 1950
As Remembered By Michael A.J. Scarrott
It was March 1950 in 9EE Draft, destination Egypt …… the sea was calm and smooth as the troopship M.V. Empire Pride made her way to the smudge on the horizon, which grew larger every minute. As we drew close to the shore the ship slowed down, a pilot boat came alongside and a pilot came on board to guide us through the entrance to the Suez Canal. The pilot boat took us past Ferdinand de Lesseps, a statue standing on the right hand side of the Canal watching the ships arriving and departing from Port Said.
We anchored opposite Simon Artz, which I found out later was a large store selling just about anything that was pricey! Another familiar figure was close to our mooring, an illuminated figure of Johnny Walker; the time was 1630 hrs.
We were warned to keep an eye on our belongings and not to take photographs as we watched armed Egyptian police come on board and walk about the different decks. At 1730 hrs we were queuing up to get our money changed into local currency, which were piastres, but always called ‘ackers’ by all servicemen. By 1830 hrs it was dark, but that did not stop the natives in their bum boats selling their wares.
Various smells came wafting over the ship with the evening breeze, burnt diesel oil, hot cooking oil and aromatic incense, a rich combination to stir anybody’s nostrils. Horse drawn vehicles were going up and down the road with a wire-chain mesh fence running the whole length of the waterfront, and about every twenty yards there was an armed guard dressed in a multitude of uniforms, khaki, blue, white, police, army, you name it.
During the hours of darkness the area was lit up by floodlights and inside the enclosure there were some chandler stores with their owners’ names on the side which looked familiar; mostly of British show business names, one of which I can still remember was George Fornby.
The hour was late as we went below deck to find our hammocks, and I had to crawl along on hands and knees under hammocks swinging at different heights above my head, to find my hammock laid out underneath our mess table where I had spent every night of the voyage.
Friday March 10th, we were awoken by reveille at 0345 hrs and busied ourselves with a wash and shave and the daily chore of rolling up and handing in our hammocks, where-upon we would receive a chitty in exchange. Breakfast was at 0500 hrs before RAF disembarkment began at 0645 hrs, when one unfortunate airman dropped his kit bag into the drink as he tripped going down the steps.
At the bottom we were met by L.C.T.’s and had to board them in very choppy conditions, a difficult task at the best of times, but made more so by juggling with two heavy kit bags. We were ferried to the dockside and then paraded in full marching order next to a field of grass which was being rolled by a big roller being pulled by a lot of Arabs.
When we reached the end of the field they stopped and the Raisman had to use his whip to get them moving again. To see grass in Egypt was an unusual sight, but this was a criket pitch for the Army stationed at Port Said.
Our general banter was curtailed when a flight sergeant arrived and told us
to shut up and listen. He began to read out some of our names and instructed
those mentioned to fall in
and be ready for their posting to Deversoir. This proceedure followed with more
groups
of chaps being posted to various other camps in the Canal Zone, Abu Sultan,
Abu Sueir, Fayid, El Hamra and Kasfareet were named at which a loud booing ensued.
The flight sergeant was quick to retort that the camps that appeared to have
gained a bad reputation were not too bad at all as he had been there himself.
He then commenced to call out the names on his list, Ashenhurst, Budge, Sheppard; the list seemed unending. After the various destinations had been sorted out we were marched to a railway siding to await our next journey via steam train.
Sitting on our kit bags we heard a train coming and turned to see an engine belching black smoke out of its chimney stack, with wheel whizzing round but not gripping the track. We piled on the train and were warned immediately to be careful of using the toilet, as what went down was liable to come back up as the toilet was over the axle.
As the train clattered along we had a good view of the Egyptian hinterland, as numerous palm trees, cactus and mud huts passed by, together with scruffy looking cows and some camels. The cramped conditions on board were accentuated by stopping at every conceivable station, whereupon, scruffy, dirty natives of all types came to beg, steal or sell something, shouting “backsheesh, backsheesh”.
Thankfully the stops weren’t for too long a duration and the train was soon rumbling on again, running parallel to the Suez Canal, but because none of us could see the Canal, ships that were making their way through it seemed as though they were gliding through the sand dunes; a memorable sight.
Finally we arrived at our last stop that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. We alighted the train to be met by a convoy of trucks that appeared from behind the dunes and proceeded to form a circle. Airmen, armed with sten guns jumped down from the cabs and ordered us to get aboard the vehicles quickly.
As the convoy began to move clouds of dust and sand rose into the air from the trackless desert, but we soon reached the road and the ride was made much smoother for it. We were travelling alongside the railway and I noticed barbed wire fences on both sides of the railway with searchlight towers positioned every so often.
We came to a level crossing with a single chain stretched across and a swarthy Arab ambled out of a hut made out of large old corn beef tins and reluctantly lifted the chain blocking our passage. We crossed the main railway track and arrived at the main gate of 107 MU Kasfareet, driving straight to the square in the centre of the camp.
As we jumped out of the back of the lorries, I could see airmen leaving the cookhouse carrying mugs of tea and then an arman came into the square carrying a bugle, played a fan-fare and shouted, “hooray, more guards”.
I had arrived at what was to be my home for the next two and a half years -
10th March 1950 to 27th July 1952.