REMEMBERING DEMOB: EX-107 MU KASFAREET, MAY 1949
(From a letter written at the
time by Ted Lloyd (just demobbed and at home in Cardiff) to Mike Green
(still perspiring at 107 MU with a couple of months to go. Ted & Mike
met on the 'Samaria ' on their way
to Egypt in 1948, both posted to 107 MU Kasfareet and have remained friends
ever since)
When the train arrived at Port Said from El Hamra, our first sight of the Empire Trooper (the ship taking us home) did not give us a very good impression of the old tub. It looked extrememly small and unfit to battle through the Bay of Biscay. But on embarking, I immediately thought that it looked a lot better than the Samaria, which fortunately proved correct. (The Samaria took me out to Egypt in May 1948). There were approximately 350 RAF on the boat and about 1,000 Army OR’s, excluding the married families, which didn’t make any difference to us. You can imagine how much room we had when you consider that she was only just over 8,000 tons.
The separate sleeping and eating arrangements made life much more pleasant. The bunks were in tiers of three. We had a little difficulty with our kit as there was not much room for storing that “small thing” on the troop deck. It all had to be put on a hatch in the centre of the deck. We had our meals in a cafeteria which could seat 428 men. The queues for meals used to look alarmingly long, when they were half way around the upper deck, but there was amazing service whereby we never had to queue for more than ten minutes for the meal. The food was very good and excellently cooked, the best I’ve had from Service sources.
The boat journey began at 4 p.m. on 30 April, with our course set for Tripoli as first stop. From Port Said to our first port of call, the Med was quite calm. We didn’t see any land or ships for the whole of the four days from Egypt until we arrived at Tripoli on 4 May, even there things looked pretty dead and quiet. We reach Tripoli at 8 a.m. and we were there some four hours feeling “cheesed off” with wasting a lot of time. When we set off again, this time for Malta, the sea had got a little rough and I was slightly seasick. We reached Malta the following morning about 8 a.m. It was quite a coincidence arriving there on 5 May because it was 5.5.48 when we reached there on our fateful journey out. We dropped anchor next to the “Grille”, Hilter’s yacht which was sold some time ago to a rich man. I took a snap of that and many other things including the Empress of Australia (used as a troopship at the time) which reached Valetta an hour after us on here way to Port Said. We started off once more on what seemed an endless journey at 4 p.m. This time the Med behaved very well and was like a millpond.
A rather grim thing I nearly forgot: - fatigues. The RAF were hanged hard on them, we did the plate wash, the worst job on the boat. The fatigues were not very evenly distributed either. I did four days in there, a day on followed by a day off from Malta to Southampton. A few lucky people got away without doing any duty at all.
When we got out of the Med the Atlantic was very calm, with hardly a crest on the waves all along the Portuguese coast. On entering the Bay of Biscay it was different, it was very rough and boy did we feel it. I should think about ninety per cent were sick, but I wasn’t. The boat played pitch and toss for approximately thirty hours. We were all very pleased when we passed safely through. By this time we were all getting very impatient and bored stiff, the boat was very slow, the most she ever did was 312 miles one day in the Med, after that the mileage dropped and in the Bay we did about 250 miles in 24 hours. It seemed like months waiting for Blighty to loom up in front of us. We were scheduled to dock at Southampton at 6 p.m. on 12 May, but we were late and arrived there at 4 a.m. on the 13th (Friday).
The RAF were the first to disembark at 0800 hours 13.5.49, all of us extremely worried about customs, as we were told on the boat by ship’s routine orders that the customs now searched all kit bags and that we could take 200 fags or half a pound of tobacco into this land of plenty, without paying duty, so of course not too many of us took too many cigs off the boat. I had about 500, but ready to declare 350 of those, buss (Arabic meaning “only”) the other 150 I had concealed in my pockets. Well, we were all lined up in the large customs shed and told to lay out all cigs, tobacco, silks, spirits, etc. and to leave our kitbags open, this was done. By the way, after those for 101 PDC and 5 PDC had been separated, they were more strict with regulars than with us going on Release. A very decent customs officers did our kit and only a few had to prove what little boxes and bags contained. He wasn’t worried how many cigs we had up to 600, above that he collected the extra, so we all heaved sighs of relief after that little ordeal. Our next step was dumping our kit in the guard’s van of the train, which was ready and waiting for us. Before boarding the train we queued up for free NAAFI and the usual “Welcome Home” sign displayed by that organisation, here we received a cup of tea, a slice of cake, one bar of chocolate and a newspaper.
The troop train pulled out at 10 a.m. amid terrific cheering, shouting and catcalls to the Army who were then having their kit searched. For the first half hour, the boys kept shouting to every single person we passed and waving to all young and old women in their gardens. We soon settled down and took it all as a matter of course. But it sure was wonderful to see the decent countryside and human beings once again and the smell of fresh air and grass. The 36 hours after getting off the boat were the fullest I’ve ever had and so much was done that I don’t know where to begin. The train journey was quite comfortable all the way to Warton. There is one thing that happened that might interest you. Ten minutes after the train started, a few senior NCO’s came along the corridor dishing out two pence to each individual from bank packets, not their own pockets, but they didn’t tell anyone what we were supposed to buy with it or where it came from, so we had to remain astonished at someone’s generosity. That was not all, ten minutes after that incident a flight lieutenant came along dishing out six pence to all and sundry, again not knowing why or where from, and expecting the amount to increase the next time by a squadron leader, but no more cash came our way, instead we were all given a tin of rations, containing biscuits, sweets, chewing gum and oatmeal cakes. These were very enjoyable and despite the fact we had no pukka dinner, we none of us were hungry as we also had a whole load of eats doled out to us from the boat.
The train finally reached Warton railway station at 6.30 p.m. where we all piled out, to be greeted by a flight sergeant and a very nice squadron leader. Here we were told that they were going to try and demob us that night but it would mean us working hard until very late at night so as we could all go home the following day, this was agreed by all with loud cheering on the platform. About fifteen of us volunteered for baggage party in order to safeguard our own kit, so it was worth it.
When we arrived at 101 PDC around 7 p.m., the crowd of us which numbered 260 odd, were split up into parties of 40 or 50 and placed in the hands of corporals, who nearly carried us around, they couldn’t do enough for us, these persons then took us to the billets, where we had to fill two forms up. Incidentally, two other bods and I had a whole billet to ourselves, very nice huts they were too. It it had been colder weather, we were told that the fires would have been lit, ready for us. (If a draft arrives on a Sunday they’ll get demobbed straight away. Amazing isn’t it?) We were up until 1 a.m. on 14 May trying to get as much as possible done. We were up again at 6 o’clock, very eager to get it over with. At 8 a.m. we were taken to Kirkham RAF station, about five miles from 101 PDC Warton, there we received our realease books, pay and ration cards, that was all over at 11 o’clock, all that was left then was to get the transport to the station and make our way home. I missed the connection at Preston by ten minutes and had to wait about two hours for the next one. I eventually reached Cardiff at 10.30 p.m.
When I returned home it was just as though I hadn’t been away, nobody had altered. I found a great many alterations however around Cardiff, new buildings and names, but apart from that things have stood still.
I hope everything goes off as well for you, Mike. Your time is getting short out there now. Before you realize it you’ll have done the same as me, free once again and never to go through it again I hope.
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Mike Green
& Ted Lloyd
First met
in 1948 on their way to Egypt, served together at 107 MU Kasfareet and
have remained friends ever since |
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