My first impressions of Aden and Dhala 1963
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23923234 Tpr Michael
Patrick Lynch
1st troop 9th 12th Lancers
Warning. Some may find the adult language used in this page offensive
The day I left Catterick to fly out to Aden will always stick in my mind. After weeks of training and getting balled out by Neanderthal-like NCOs here I was at last on my way to join my regiment. The weather was really bad, one of the worst for years according to the news. But I was viewing it from the comfort of a warm carriage speeding towards London. We, that is Steve McCormack and Eric Waterall, arrived at St. Pancras without any mishaps and after getting lost on the underground several times arrived at the air terminal. I met several other Lancers who were on their way out to Aden and, if I remember correctly, Yorky Smales was one of them. We waited in the reception area for our transport. Eventually we were on our way to Stanstead Airport, which at that time was just an RAF transport depot. The weather was still pretty lousy but not lousy enough to prevent the RAF transport plane from taking off.
It was the first time I had ever been in a plane let alone getting ready to fly several thousand miles. I felt my stomach reacting, but maybe that was the couple of pints of beer I had drunk previously. I figured the best bet was to fall asleep and hopefully wake up just before we landed. Some idea...I hadn't reckoned on a group of drunken KOSBs, these were the Kings Own Scottish Borderers, who were also stationed in Aden. I couldn't sleep so I joined in a card game with some other insomniacs. Down below I could see the lights of several European cities as we flew over them. Eventually I managed to drift off to sleep.
Waking up the sun was quite bright, and down below I saw what could only be desert as we flew over Egypt where I saw the pyramids and other antiquities. We were served a meal, which wasn't half bad plus I was starving. It wasn't long before the Captain was announcing that we were approaching Aden and would soon be landing at Khormaksar Airport. It was a shock to me when we left the plane. Out on the runway it must have been well into the 100s and here I was wearing a bloody great camel-haired overcoat. That soon came off as did my pullover. A shout from Steve and I saw him pointing at two Arabs holding each others hands. So my first view of Aden was of two Gingy wallahs and another one scratching his goolies in public. Boy... what have I let myself in for.
I retrieved my luggage and made my way to the waiting transport, and at last I was with my regiment. The drive from Khormaksar was quite pleasant... apart that is from the smell, it was a mixture of heat and gasses that came from the oil refinery at Little Aden where our barracks were situated. Here the 9th/12th Lancers on one side of the road and 45 Commando opposite us. Balaclava Barracks wasn't all that bad as most of the camps I saw during my stay in Aden.
I spent a few days in HQ Squadron complex. This was a metal construction hut with air conditioning and after being out in the hot sun was a welcome change. I looked around and found some guys that I knew from home. There was Colin (Bud) Newman who lived just opposite my house back home. And Kenny Allan who lived a little way down the road, and there were others but at the time I didn't get to see them. We spent a few days getting acclimatised in Little Aden with things like working at menial jobs but not too much to start with. We started around six in the morning and finished at midday. Well it was too hot by then for working.
During the afternoons you either flaked out on your bed or went down to the WVS building and relaxed reading books or playing table tennis. It was one place where you could sit and relax and write letters home. If you felt energetic you could go to the beach and fool about in the sea. I left that alone till I became more acclimatised. After a couple of days I ventured into Aden and the fleshpots of Maalla and Khormaksar. I will always remember it as the place I first drank rum and coke laced with, I later found out, lighter fuel. I was out on my face by the end of the night and was nearly arrested by the Shore Patrol. Luckily I was able to talk them round and they let me go.
After several days I was assigned to A Squadron 1st Troop; they were out at Dhala so pretty soon I was on the first transport going out there. It wasn't exactly a comfortable journey. I was sat in the back of a three-tonner with an FRA escort. The FRA, or as they were known the Federal Regular Army, were the troops we were to be working with. The only problem was they didn't know where their loyalties were at times. It was also my first experience of Sheikh Othman. Not exactly the friendliest of places to drive through, as at this particular time there was a student demonstration and they hurled anything they could at us. I was armed with a Sterling sub-machine gun and three mags of ammo and the escort was armed with an old rifle. At one point someone tried to climb onto the back of the wagon and the Arab fired at the intruder. After a long drive, or so it seemed, we arrived at Thumeir, which was an FRA fort on the Radfan. We stretched our legs and found some water to drink... it tasted a bit brackish but at that time I would have drunk anything. My next big shock was the Dhala Pass. The rule here was passengers walked just in case there were mines. We were met by a squad of 45 Commando who led us up the most precipitous path I had ever been up. I daren't look down in case I shat myself so I kept on going until we rounded a rocky outcrop and found ourselves at the top. I don't think it was this that prompted me to take up rock climbing, but something did. We sat around with 45 Commando till our vehicle reached the top. Back on board we headed out towards Dhala. The mountainous terrain was certainly a change from Little Aden. It was starting to get dark by the time we reached Dhala and I was getting to feel tired, and our driver said it was the heat.
We reached the camp at Dhala, which was situated on a smallish plateau approached by a rocky road. Opposite our camp was 45 Commando's camp, similar in style. I was met by 1st Troop's Sergeant Wilson, and with him was a corporal, 'Darky Night' as I got to know him. First thing was to get a bed then some equipment was issued to me. I found the rest of the Troop sitting around in the marquee that was to be my home for the next few months. I can't remember the full troop but I will have a go. First one to speak was Trooper Wally Dyson, then there was 'scouse' Sherry. Come to think of it, I never found out his first name. Another Yorkshire lad, Cpl. Ken Calladine started taking the mickey out of me. Another Chesterfield lad stepped forward, (I can only remember his first name) Kenny who came from Clay Cross. There was a youngish trooper who had not long been out of Boy's Service, I can't think of his name. There was also a REME detachment with us. One name I remember is Bill Cowan, then there was a 'smudge' Smith, but other than that I can't remember the rest. Oh, the Troop Commander was Lt. St, John Airey. Wally offered me my first Dhala beer, and it was warm. I sank back on my bed, none too comfortable either, and lit a cigarette up. Soon I was being told what the place was like. Within minutes found out for myself. I had to go to the toilet. I wasn't expecting all modern conditions but I didn't expect to have to crap into a long drop. I could hear scuttling noises from below me. Later I was told that rats lived in amongst the crap and they were known to have taken a bite out of someone's arse. Also you didn't stroll out smoking a ciggy, as there were snipers out in the hills. Soon I was falling asleep, my thoughts so far, "What a fucking dump!"
Mike (Paddy) Lynch
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