LIFE AT FAYID POWER STATION
As Remembered By John Reading
I was posted to the Fayid Power Station from the Jerrican Factory at Fanara in early 1954. I had been at the factory, part of Engr. Base Group , since arriving in Egypt in April 1953. The Power Station was unique in that when entering the main area where the large water tube boilers provided the steam power to drive the turbines, the boilers were oil-fired, the building was open at one end where the water tank was located.
The whole place was the same as a railway station, the boilers, oil tank and turbines etc were placed just as a train is in a station, the oil was fed into the fire box on the boiler and ignited by two rods known as the ‘burners’.
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All military personnel working in the station were excused all military duties and we worked on a shift rota, it was not a very good place to work. The armed forces were gradually handing over various installations to the Egyptians and we had a few local civilians to train in the running of the power station, that is, when you could keep them awake!!
The camp where we were living in tented accommodation was not far away. It had a NAAFI etc. and one Saturday evening as we were not on shift and it was my mate, Billy Curtis’ birthday, we went to the bar to celebrate. As the evening progressed we were joined by army personnel from other regiments and a hostile atmosphere was soon ruining the evening. I went back to my tent and was reading a book when Billy literally crashed through the door, blood pouring from his head and upper body and I could hear a lot of drunken shouting coming from the direction of the NAAFI. I put Billy into a locker, told him to “shut up” and put the Corporals jacked on and my beret, took the light bulb out of its socket and went outside hoping to reach the guardroom near our tent but between me and the guardroom were 30 or so very drunken soldiers all who seemed to have broken beer bottles in their hands and yelling “Where’s Curtis?” I muttered that I did not know him and carried on towards the guardroom. I managed to alert the orderly officer and the guard were sent out to round up the drunks and get Billy to the BMH. Luckily he was not seriously hurt but had lots of small cuts from his head to his waist! I have no idea how I managed to carry out the ‘rescue’ of Billy that night but I dread to think what would have happened if the drunken squaddies had found him.
Shortly after Christmas 54 I was told that our group were being posted to Aquaba in Jordan. I was due for de-mob in early May so I was only in Jordan for a few weeks. The then Arab Legion and the local people were fantastic and we spent many evenings in the homes of the local ‘Sherffes’ drinking lemon tea – I only wished that we could have stayed longer.
We were soon back in Moascar and after a few days we boarded an Avro York and were bound for home. The Yorks were not the best aeroplane and we really thought we would not get home safely because when we came in to land at Stanstead it was obvious that the plane was travelling too fast, it bounced twice then climbed to the landing height again, reduced speed then landed safely!! I have never been in an aircraft since!
I have tried since I left the army to get in touch with Billy again and also another pal, George Muir but have had no luck. Billy was from Sydenham and said he was a ‘refuse disposal officer!!’ (Bin Man) and George was from The Gorbals, Glasgow when he was in the Royal Engineers in 1953-55. If anyone knows of them, then I would love to hear from them.
'CARRY ON FOAMING’
I worked in the Jerrican factory in Fanara in ’53 and I actually managed to create two gardens there. I was responsible for keeping the presses supplied with sheet steel.
Next door to our camp was a Shell petrol storage compound manned by local, mainly Egyptian, labour. Naturally they had their own ‘Firefighters’ and their equipment seemed to consist of an old flat back lorry with what I think was foam etc.
The Jerrican factory had a large paint shop which was situated behind the first two large doors at the front. One morning our fire alarm sounded and our own firefighters were quickly assembled. The fire was in the paint shop but the lads from the Shell compound came racing round with their ‘fire truck’ but by this time the fire, which had been really quite small, had been put out.
Just as the Shell lads arrived at the doors, behind which was the paint shop, the large doors were flung open and our “popular?” sergeant stood in front of the paint shop holding his arms out to denote that we did not need any assistance. Too late – a chap on the back of the Shell fire truck swung what looked like a very large axe and one of the canisters of foam suddenly sent a huge cloud of foam into the paint shop – needless to say our sergeant was lost in the resulting mess.
The following two or three days we had to be very wary of the sergeant as he was sure that the above action was not an accident. It would have made a good scene in the “Carry On” films.