The time came for an overseas posting and I
applied for RAF Eindhoven but when I got to the transit camp at RAF Hednesford
near Cannock in Staffordshire, I discovered that I had actually been posted to
the 107 MU at RAF Kasfareet in Egypt!
We boarded the train and we were on our way and by this time it was pitch dark. I opened my box and took out an egg and a sandwich as I was hungry. One of the lads lit his lighter and discovered that the eggs were black inside and must have been steamed.
RAF KASFAREET (SUEZ CANAL ZONE)
We finally arrived at Kasfareet Station; I
picked up my kit and opened the door. I
stepped out and fell straight down onto the ground – the train had overshot the
platform. An armed RAF policeman yanked
me upright and said I was lucky that a native Egyptian did not get here first
or he would have stolen my gear.
We got to the hut and an NCO ordered us to
shake the beds down to get rid of the bugs that had a habit of going for your
neck and feeding on your blood. You
always knew when it happened because there would be blood on the pillow. As he went out of the door he reminded us to
watch for scorpions, camel spiders and mosquitos. What the Hell was I doing in this
God-forsaken place?
The answer to that soon became obvious as,
apart from carrying out our jobs, we had to carry out guard duties as there was no RAF
Regiment to guard the camp and Kasfareet was a very big place.
Sometimes we had to do sleeping in picket;
two men had to sleep in the big hangars and that was creepy. We also had to guard six different areas
around the perimeter, standing on the top of a wooden tower swinging a
searchlight. Eventually six of us,
including myself, were detailed to carry out ghost patrols.
This involved going to the armoury, blacking
my face, drawing a Sten gun and proceeding, after dark, to area six (otherwise
called killer corner). It was littered
with old aircraft and crates and the guards on the towers did not know we were
there, so I had to be very careful otherwise I could have been shot by my own
mates. The only people who knew you were
there were the SPs with their guard dogs.
The boys in the billet used to ask me if I
had a bird somewhere as I was not there some nights. I suppose the other five lads had the same
experience. Lucky I never encountered
any local Arabs inside the wire fence.
Other Security jobs included riding shotgun
on the school bus; the kids would be very vulnerable if an attack
happened. Nor was I very keen on riding
guard on the ammunition lorries travelling between the base and Port Suez Docks
– I was supposed to be an engineer, not an armed guard and all for twenty eight
shillings (£1.40) a week!
One day, whilst on sleeping picket in the
General Engineering hangar, I left my gun locked up in the office and whilst
strolling around I saw one of the Egyptian carpenters in the tailor shop making
himself a pair of trousers. I told him
to go back to the carpenters shop. A bit
later I saw him again and, once again, I told him to go back to his job. As I passed him again, two of his mates
grabbed me and spread eagled me against a partition. He had a wood chisel in his hands and was
coming for me.
My Sudanese boy, Sam, jumped over the
partition and grabbed him by the throat.
The Askaris (Egyptian Police) took him away and probably beat him
up. Sam said to me that I should always
carry my gun when I was on my own. He
was probably right.
107 MU BADGE
My main job was inspecting and repairing the
fuel tanks on Spitfires as well as lots of catering equipment and motor
transport radiators. I also made lots of
toys for the kids in married quarters like rocking horses, model jeeps and
motor boats. The Egyptians used to say
that I would be an Officer soon – they obviously thought I was a clever so and
so.
One day we went on an exercise in the
desert. A storm broke and the tents went
flying as the rain came down. Lying in
damp sand is not very clever and I got bitten on the thighs, probably by sand
fleas or beetles. My legs were swollen
to twice their normal size and I was carted off to the camp hospital. I woke up the following morning and the M.O.
was sitting at the end of my bed and said:
“Oh, you’ve made it then!”
But they told me nothing else and it was years later that my brother told me I had suffered a bout of rheumatic fever.
For relaxation I went to Port Fouad which was
a sort of holiday camp for service men – all living in tents. There was nothing much to do but go to the
NAAFI and get boozed up. My brother John
and I went there and we went to an open air cinema; it was on a roof top with
basket chairs. I remember just enjoying
a beer and watching “3 Coins in a Fountain” when the heavens opened. Some ran for it, I just stayed put and the
rain stopped. Due to the heat, the steam
was rising from my body but I saw the film right through!
I became a member of the 107 MU (Maintenance
Unit) Speedway Club; I was no good as a rider so I became the maintenance
boy. I made up the sprocket wheels –
they had to have the correct teeth as there was no gear box and I made the
steel shoes for the left foot to trail along the ground. I even converted an old army Matchless into a
speedway bike. We had a clubhouse and
bar and raced against teams from Kabrit, Fayed etc.
I was also a member of the 107 MU sailing
club on the Bitter Lakes. But all good
things come to an end and after eighteen months I had to move on.
Egbert's speedway bike, converted from an old Army Matchless
This time it was to RAF Khartoum. I flew in a Vickers Valetta and we were
supposed to stop at Wadi Halfa in Sudan but we seem to have missed that! The pilot said to watch for where the Blue
Nile meets the White Nile and then we have arrived. We were taken to a transit building where we
shared the accommodation, Officers and NCOs alike. It was a mighty hot place. It was different from Kasfareet in that we
were allowed to just get on with the job – no guard duties at all.
A radio chap and I restarted the Khartoum
Radio Rediffusion station and supplied piped music to all the billets and
Officers’ quarters. The entertainments
Officer gave us 10 shillings (50p) a week and we could buy four 78rpm shellac
(breakable!) records per week to add to the collection that was already
there. If I was on duty at night, I
would close down at about 10pm, grab a taxi to the NAAFI club then go on to a
night club.
I would get back late and just drop my
clothes and get into bed. Up again,
dress in shorts and my blacksmith apron and off to work. When I returned at 1pm, Mack, my bearer,
would have washed and ironed my clothes.
He looked after me really well and all for half a crown (12⅟₂p) a week.
Knowing that I liked a challenge, the Wing
Commander asked me to maintain all 42 pieces of ground equipment including the
two emergency power units. One was in a
stone building in the middle of the airfield.
It was a Lister diesel and it was very hot in there and I had to turn
the fly wheel like mad and slam the decompression lever and hope it would start
– but it was not always so and I often had a few choice words for it! The other one was a petrol generator and was
in the signals section and much easier to start.
I also had 40 other starter generators etc.
and responsibility for United States aircraft in case they developed a
fault. One such job was to repair a big
astrodome which had cracked around the rim.
The captain told me not to rush as the crew wanted to take in the sights
of Khartoum and do some clubbing. He
always called me a red headed son of a screwdriver. They always came from Germany en route for
Saudi Arabia and always found an excuse for a stopover at Khartoum.
The station fire engines all carried
auxiliary engines and it was my job to maintain those too, but the most unusual
was the AOC’s yacht! He had a yacht on
the Nile and at one point he had the engine removed and delivered to me in the
station workshop for a complete overhaul.
More officially, I had to refurbish the desert rescue vehicle which had
been allowed to fall into neglect. I had
to make new water tanks for it and I got the feeling that the RAF were taking
advantage of my engineering training in Holland as none of these jobs, other
than the water tanks, were my trade – but they knew I liked a challenge.
At one point, my
right index finger went septic; the MO lanced it but two days later it got
worse and he took me to an army hospital.
They said that they thought he may have cut too deep as I now had a bone
infection and they may have to amputate the finger. When I came round from the operation the
surgeon told me that they had saved the finger and my MO was very pleased.
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