Bryn. |
Welcome to the
Canal Zone. By Bryn Evans. ex RMP Dog Handler. |
'Prince' |
What
I am about to relate to you is to the best of my memory and I regret
if my data is not exactly correct, I know there are gaps in the sequence
of events and
especially galling is not being able to remember all the names of the companions you served with and in instances, shared danger with, but bear with me. It’s hard to remember all you were doing over 57 years ago.Before telling you my stories, I would like to give you a background as to what were the duties of the No.1 RMP Dog
Coy in the Canal Zone, specifically in respect of the Base Ordnance Depots (BOD) at Geneifa and Tel el Kebir (TeK). My tour of duty was 1950-1951.
These depots were huge; I believe Geneifa had a 5 mile perimeter and TeK nearly a 15 mile perimeter. Within were open compounds and sheds storing everything from
tanks to toilet rolls, including equipment that was left over from the end of the Egyptian Desert Campaign of World War II. Each depot had outer and inner perimeter
barbed wire fences up to 10 ft high which were protected with search-light towers, trip wires, and patrolling armed guards outside and inside the perimeter fences. Later
in 1951 at the commencement of the insurgency I understand some of the perimeter was mined.
(Also see ‘Policing in Hell, The Royal Military Police’ reminisced by ex-RMP Brian Walker in the 'History & Recollections' section.)
The duties of the Dog Coy. in the main were to patrol and guard the enclosed storage compounds and sheds. Our hours of duty (‘stags’ as we used to call them) were
6pm till midnight and midnight till 6am. Normally it was ’a one man and his dog job’, weapon was a Smith & Wesson .38 pistol (6 rounds loaded and 6 spare).
Occasionally on some high security compounds, two men and their dogs, side arms and 9mm Sten Guns. Mode of dress in summer as near as Billy the Kid as damn it.
In winter, pyjamas underneath, and a greatcoat on top.
In spite of the precautions the depots were frequently infiltrated by inhabitants of the local villages. (klefty wallahs we called them). After The Fast of Ramadan was a favourite time for the locals to chance their luck. Also some of the local labour working daily in the depots, of which there were hundreds, used to hide themselves in the compounds during the day and come out at night. High on the ‘nick list’ were blankets, boots, household utensils, in fact anything that was not screwed down, although later in 1951, ammunition and armoury stores were targeted by armed insurgents drafted in by the Egyptian Government from outside of the Canal Zone.
How did I get into the Dog Company? After arriving in Egypt from the UK on the troopship ’Empire Ken’, our first stop was 203 RMP Provost Coy. Moascar Garrison.
After a couple of days the squad was assembled to receive our postings in the Canal Zone. The Duty Sergeant handing out the postings asked, ‘Does anyone like
dogs?’ Three of us put our hands up, they were Bill (Scouse) Youds, Johnnie Thompson and myself. Next day the three of us were driven to the No.1 RMP Dog Coy,
10 BOD Geneifa. Bill Youds later said he thought the Sergeant had said, ‘Does anyone like darts’? Knowing Bill like I did, I half believed him. The rest of Squad 127
were sent to various posts throughout the Zone. After a couple of weeks of intensive dog handling training, I was ready for my first stand alone duty.
I will now tell you my first story.
Welcome to Egypt.especially galling is not being able to remember all the names of the companions you served with and in instances, shared danger with, but bear with me. It’s hard to remember all you were doing over 57 years ago.Before telling you my stories, I would like to give you a background as to what were the duties of the No.1 RMP Dog
Coy in the Canal Zone, specifically in respect of the Base Ordnance Depots (BOD) at Geneifa and Tel el Kebir (TeK). My tour of duty was 1950-1951.
These depots were huge; I believe Geneifa had a 5 mile perimeter and TeK nearly a 15 mile perimeter. Within were open compounds and sheds storing everything from
tanks to toilet rolls, including equipment that was left over from the end of the Egyptian Desert Campaign of World War II. Each depot had outer and inner perimeter
barbed wire fences up to 10 ft high which were protected with search-light towers, trip wires, and patrolling armed guards outside and inside the perimeter fences. Later
in 1951 at the commencement of the insurgency I understand some of the perimeter was mined.
(Also see ‘Policing in Hell, The Royal Military Police’ reminisced by ex-RMP Brian Walker in the 'History & Recollections' section.)
The duties of the Dog Coy. in the main were to patrol and guard the enclosed storage compounds and sheds. Our hours of duty (‘stags’ as we used to call them) were
6pm till midnight and midnight till 6am. Normally it was ’a one man and his dog job’, weapon was a Smith & Wesson .38 pistol (6 rounds loaded and 6 spare).
Occasionally on some high security compounds, two men and their dogs, side arms and 9mm Sten Guns. Mode of dress in summer as near as Billy the Kid as damn it.
In winter, pyjamas underneath, and a greatcoat on top.
In spite of the precautions the depots were frequently infiltrated by inhabitants of the local villages. (klefty wallahs we called them). After The Fast of Ramadan was a favourite time for the locals to chance their luck. Also some of the local labour working daily in the depots, of which there were hundreds, used to hide themselves in the compounds during the day and come out at night. High on the ‘nick list’ were blankets, boots, household utensils, in fact anything that was not screwed down, although later in 1951, ammunition and armoury stores were targeted by armed insurgents drafted in by the Egyptian Government from outside of the Canal Zone.
How did I get into the Dog Company? After arriving in Egypt from the UK on the troopship ’Empire Ken’, our first stop was 203 RMP Provost Coy. Moascar Garrison.
After a couple of days the squad was assembled to receive our postings in the Canal Zone. The Duty Sergeant handing out the postings asked, ‘Does anyone like
dogs?’ Three of us put our hands up, they were Bill (Scouse) Youds, Johnnie Thompson and myself. Next day the three of us were driven to the No.1 RMP Dog Coy,
10 BOD Geneifa. Bill Youds later said he thought the Sergeant had said, ‘Does anyone like darts’? Knowing Bill like I did, I half believed him. The rest of Squad 127
were sent to various posts throughout the Zone. After a couple of weeks of intensive dog handling training, I was ready for my first stand alone duty.
I will now tell you my first story.
The
day after we arrived at Geneifa we went for our first breakfast
at the small cookhouse we shared with the RAVC (Royal Army Veterinary
Corp). They initially trained
our dogs before handing them over to us and were responsible for their aftercare and in fact saw to our own occasional cuts and bruises (including dog bites of which I personally bear the scars to this day.) The mess room was about a hundred yards away across a clearing and we had to pass our guardroom and through our gates to
get to it. As we were coming back from breakfast we saw a RAOC 15 cwt with a trailer parked outside the guard room. The RMP duty NCO was looking in the back
of the trailer and said “Come and look at this”. In the trailer, partly covered by a tarpaulin, was a dead Egyptian who had been shot by RAOC security that night, during
a break-in.It was not a pretty sight and just having a ‘full monty’ breakfast just a few minutes before did not help. Or on reflection maybe it did.
All incidents of break-ins, thefts and shootings, had to be reported to our RMP provost officer and the Special Investigation Branch (SIB) who had an attachment with
Dog Company. We would then be responsible for handing over any persons caught committing these offences including those mortally shot or injured. Later in the year
I spent three months attached to the SIB investigating and reporting smaller break-ins and on several occasions handed caught ‘klefty wallahs’ over to the civilian police. They had a small police station on the Treaty Road just outside the Geneifa garrison. Their procedure was quite simple, sign for the prisoner, throw him(if fit enough) into
an open cage at the back, nick any valuables he had on him, (as a legitimate fine ) hose him down, then once we had gone, release him.
So my first experience of Egypt was disturbing to say the least, but there was more to come.
A couple of days later, I had my first experience of the dreaded ‘Khamsin’. As all Suez Veterans will know this was a seasonal wind that blows from Saudi Arabia,
across Egypt, Libya and on odd years it has affected the UK. It can last for days, and Khamsin is Arabic for 50 and this purports that it blows for fifty days in any one
year during the seasons of March-May and September-November. This dry, dusty wind literally sandblasts anything in its path, with temperatures that exceed 40º C
and wind speeds up to 50 kph Whilst one of these are blowing there is not much you can do and we were confined to spending time on our beds and when you are
under canvas (as we were) it was physical hell .We still had to carry out essential duties, not the least the well being and care of our dogs who had to be confined to
their kennels. During normal days they were held in spacious open compounds well protected from the sun by overhead canopies.Fortunately my first Khamsin blew
itself out after a few hours. (For a more graphic account of this phenomena, see ‘Sandstorms’, in the ‘History and Recollections’ section.)
That was my welcome to Egypt.
our dogs before handing them over to us and were responsible for their aftercare and in fact saw to our own occasional cuts and bruises (including dog bites of which I personally bear the scars to this day.) The mess room was about a hundred yards away across a clearing and we had to pass our guardroom and through our gates to
get to it. As we were coming back from breakfast we saw a RAOC 15 cwt with a trailer parked outside the guard room. The RMP duty NCO was looking in the back
of the trailer and said “Come and look at this”. In the trailer, partly covered by a tarpaulin, was a dead Egyptian who had been shot by RAOC security that night, during
a break-in.It was not a pretty sight and just having a ‘full monty’ breakfast just a few minutes before did not help. Or on reflection maybe it did.
All incidents of break-ins, thefts and shootings, had to be reported to our RMP provost officer and the Special Investigation Branch (SIB) who had an attachment with
Dog Company. We would then be responsible for handing over any persons caught committing these offences including those mortally shot or injured. Later in the year
I spent three months attached to the SIB investigating and reporting smaller break-ins and on several occasions handed caught ‘klefty wallahs’ over to the civilian police. They had a small police station on the Treaty Road just outside the Geneifa garrison. Their procedure was quite simple, sign for the prisoner, throw him(if fit enough) into
an open cage at the back, nick any valuables he had on him, (as a legitimate fine ) hose him down, then once we had gone, release him.
So my first experience of Egypt was disturbing to say the least, but there was more to come.
A couple of days later, I had my first experience of the dreaded ‘Khamsin’. As all Suez Veterans will know this was a seasonal wind that blows from Saudi Arabia,
across Egypt, Libya and on odd years it has affected the UK. It can last for days, and Khamsin is Arabic for 50 and this purports that it blows for fifty days in any one
year during the seasons of March-May and September-November. This dry, dusty wind literally sandblasts anything in its path, with temperatures that exceed 40º C
and wind speeds up to 50 kph Whilst one of these are blowing there is not much you can do and we were confined to spending time on our beds and when you are
under canvas (as we were) it was physical hell .We still had to carry out essential duties, not the least the well being and care of our dogs who had to be confined to
their kennels. During normal days they were held in spacious open compounds well protected from the sun by overhead canopies.Fortunately my first Khamsin blew
itself out after a few hours. (For a more graphic account of this phenomena, see ‘Sandstorms’, in the ‘History and Recollections’ section.)
That was my welcome to Egypt.
Friendly
Fire.
What The Hell Was In Those Trucks ?
This particular night I was
to patrol a compound that was new to me, situated at the northern
tip of the depot close to the perimeter wire. My stag was midnight to
6am
and I was with my dog, War Police Dog ‘Prince’ (WPD)) I trained with and handled Prince, a German Shepherd, for most of my tour. I was the last of the dog handlers
who were also on stag that night to be dropped off by our transport. I can vaguely recall the compound number being C7. To this day I do not know what was stored in
this compound but it contained hundreds of tarpaulin covered bundles and boxes stacked up to about 10 ft high. My usual procedure was to get as familiar with the compound as soon as possible, then find a comfortable spot for me and Prince to spend the night, from where we could make periodic patrols. Some compounds had
open sided tents with a bed and mattress.
I decided to tour the inner fence clockwise and this took me close to the depot’s interior and external wire perimeters. It was a particularly dark night which you can sometimes get in the desert, and I could only see a few yards ahead and the only lights were from the watch tower searchlights which occasionally swept across the
depot and the glow of the depot’s night lights. The compound perimeter was quite extensive and after a while I reached an area were there was no more bales stored,
just a large expanse of ground up to the compound fence and just beyond were the main perimeter fences.
I carried on for about 15 minutes or so and then there was the ‘plop’ of a very pistol flare bursting high above my head, lighting up the whole area, followed immediately
by the clatter of automatic fire. - (A Bren Gun I later found out). - I instinctively hit the deck, but I am sure Prince beat me to it, and I recall shouting as loud as I could, “Stop, dog company, military police” or something to that effect. The firing stopped and after what seemed to be ages, two squaddies came running out of the darkness, shouting “What the **** are you doing here, are you hurt?” etc etc’. I was in two minds to slip Prince’s leash and let him have a go at one of them and then pop the other myself. It transpired that the RAOC had that day set up a temporary sandbagged Bren Gun emplacement on top of the bales, manned by a Corporal and two squaddies. They were not informed that the Dog Coy would be patrolling the site that night.
After recovering myself, I went back with them to their position which was about two hundred yards away where the bales ended. The Corporal in charge was more
shaken than me and after exchanging the whys and wherefores, he admitted that seeing indiscernible shapes by the wire, had set off the flare and fired a few rounds
(more like half a magazine) in my direction (but above my head?) He did admit that he did not issue the Standard Orders proper warning which was to shout out “Halt”
three times in English with a pause in between each ‘halt’ and the same warning in Arabic i.e. “Stanna-stanna-stanna.” This warning had to be given whether the
intruder was five yards from you or five hundred yards from you, whether he could hear you or not. If the intruder failed to halt you were justified by firing on him.
In my experience this warning was rarely given. You may ask did I give this warning in the break-ins I was involved in? To coin a phrase from a well known TV serial,
“Think what you may, but I couldn’t possibly comment.”
By all rules and regulations both the RAOC Corporal and myself should have reported this incident and I would have had to state that he issued no warning, consequently
he would have found himself facing serious disciplinary charges.
I decided, much to the Corporals relief that I would not report the incident as happened, although I would report the presence of the RAOC Security squad on the
compound, and to say that I came into contact with them shortly after entering the compound, without any resulting incident. The Corporal would report the same to his superiors primarily to ensure that there would not be a repeat of this communications cock-up between the TeK security units.
However it did happen to me once again, but it was much less dramatic - but then that’s another story.
Prince and I spent the rest of the night curled up below the gun post and to this day I wonder whether the Corporal had told the truth about shooting above my head.
If he did not tell the truth, then he must have been a bloody lousy shot!
L/Cpl Bryn Evans
No.1 RMP Dog Coy
10 BOD,Geneifa -1950
© Bryn Evans. January 2008.
and I was with my dog, War Police Dog ‘Prince’ (WPD)) I trained with and handled Prince, a German Shepherd, for most of my tour. I was the last of the dog handlers
who were also on stag that night to be dropped off by our transport. I can vaguely recall the compound number being C7. To this day I do not know what was stored in
this compound but it contained hundreds of tarpaulin covered bundles and boxes stacked up to about 10 ft high. My usual procedure was to get as familiar with the compound as soon as possible, then find a comfortable spot for me and Prince to spend the night, from where we could make periodic patrols. Some compounds had
open sided tents with a bed and mattress.
I decided to tour the inner fence clockwise and this took me close to the depot’s interior and external wire perimeters. It was a particularly dark night which you can sometimes get in the desert, and I could only see a few yards ahead and the only lights were from the watch tower searchlights which occasionally swept across the
depot and the glow of the depot’s night lights. The compound perimeter was quite extensive and after a while I reached an area were there was no more bales stored,
just a large expanse of ground up to the compound fence and just beyond were the main perimeter fences.
I carried on for about 15 minutes or so and then there was the ‘plop’ of a very pistol flare bursting high above my head, lighting up the whole area, followed immediately
by the clatter of automatic fire. - (A Bren Gun I later found out). - I instinctively hit the deck, but I am sure Prince beat me to it, and I recall shouting as loud as I could, “Stop, dog company, military police” or something to that effect. The firing stopped and after what seemed to be ages, two squaddies came running out of the darkness, shouting “What the **** are you doing here, are you hurt?” etc etc’. I was in two minds to slip Prince’s leash and let him have a go at one of them and then pop the other myself. It transpired that the RAOC had that day set up a temporary sandbagged Bren Gun emplacement on top of the bales, manned by a Corporal and two squaddies. They were not informed that the Dog Coy would be patrolling the site that night.
After recovering myself, I went back with them to their position which was about two hundred yards away where the bales ended. The Corporal in charge was more
shaken than me and after exchanging the whys and wherefores, he admitted that seeing indiscernible shapes by the wire, had set off the flare and fired a few rounds
(more like half a magazine) in my direction (but above my head?) He did admit that he did not issue the Standard Orders proper warning which was to shout out “Halt”
three times in English with a pause in between each ‘halt’ and the same warning in Arabic i.e. “Stanna-stanna-stanna.” This warning had to be given whether the
intruder was five yards from you or five hundred yards from you, whether he could hear you or not. If the intruder failed to halt you were justified by firing on him.
In my experience this warning was rarely given. You may ask did I give this warning in the break-ins I was involved in? To coin a phrase from a well known TV serial,
“Think what you may, but I couldn’t possibly comment.”
By all rules and regulations both the RAOC Corporal and myself should have reported this incident and I would have had to state that he issued no warning, consequently
he would have found himself facing serious disciplinary charges.
I decided, much to the Corporals relief that I would not report the incident as happened, although I would report the presence of the RAOC Security squad on the
compound, and to say that I came into contact with them shortly after entering the compound, without any resulting incident. The Corporal would report the same to his superiors primarily to ensure that there would not be a repeat of this communications cock-up between the TeK security units.
However it did happen to me once again, but it was much less dramatic - but then that’s another story.
Prince and I spent the rest of the night curled up below the gun post and to this day I wonder whether the Corporal had told the truth about shooting above my head.
If he did not tell the truth, then he must have been a bloody lousy shot!
L/Cpl Bryn Evans
No.1 RMP Dog Coy
10 BOD,Geneifa -1950
© Bryn Evans. January 2008.
My
other story is of an event that took place about three months after I had
been posted to the 5 Base Ordnance Depot at Tel el Kebir, the biggest and
last depot just
inside the British Military Canal Zone Boundary.
inside the British Military Canal Zone Boundary.
What The Hell Was In Those Trucks ?
On
this day, I was told to report to the duty/guardroom, along with two
of my other mates (forgive me for not being able to recall their names).
The duty NCO informed
us that as we had the following day off, we had volunteered (?) for special escort duty. We were to report to the guardroom at 10 am, (without dogs) draw side arms and
wait for orders. Dress was to be as worn as on stag, but with no identifiable military insignia or badges. This didn’t make much difference to us, as this was our usual
dress, except for the odd toy ‘Sheriff' or 'Deputy Marshal‘ badge the lads used to pin on for a laugh. We asked what we would be doing and the duty NCO told us he had
no idea. Next day we reported to the guard room, where there was a covered RASC Bedford 15 CWT parked outside. After we had drawn our side arms we jumped into
the back of the truck. Once inside we asked the driver where we were going. He said first stop was a rendezvous on the Treaty Road just outside Ismailia and then up to
Port Said and then back to TeK, that’s all he knew. We were surprised as we thought we be doing something within the TeK garrison.
We duly arrived at the rendezvous, where there was about 20 or so Bedford 3 ton QL’s lined up in convoy. A Sergeant came up to us and told us to stand by our vehicle. There were several other vehicles parked close by, including RMP Provost Jeeps and 15 cwts, with other personnel sitting in them all in mufti. After a while a Lieutenant came up to us and his first words were, “Where the bloody hell have you come from? You look like the Jessie James Gang“ I think he was surprised to see our side
arms (.38 Smith and Wesson) slung low in non regulation holsters on our right legs and our neckerchiefs and soft hats. His orders were short and simple, “We are going
to the Naval Dockyard at Port Said, you each pick a truck, ,jump in the back and if any unauthorised person tries to get in the truck, once we are moving, shoot them,
and do not touch the contents in the back of the truck. Collect water and rations from that truck over there. Thank you.”
We were to travel north to Port Said on the Treaty Road which runs parallel with the Canal Road. The Treaty Road was not as well maintained or used as frequently by
the military as the Canal Road and it passed through several villages where there had been instances of vehicles being fired on.
I collected my water and rations, jumped into the back of a truck which was covered by a canvas tilt canopy. Three quarters of the inside was stacked way above the
headboard with a mix of crates and bundles, piled on top of each other, some were identifiable as food stuff including fresh fruit and vegetables.
The drive north was uneventful; except for kids and dogs from the villages chasing after the trucks. We drove straight into the Naval Dockyards at Port Said and parked
in a clearing area. A British Naval destroyer under full steam was moored some way off with a gangway lowered onto the quayside. Armed Naval ratings stood each
side of the gangway. The first truck was ordered to draw up along side the gangway and naval ratings started to unload the contents but did not take them onto the
destroyer but stacked them onto the quayside.
At this point we were all ordered to get out of the trucks and to assemble some distance away from the quayside. The Lieutenant came up to us and said, ”Thank you gentleman, a meal is being prepared for you in the Dockyard cookhouse, rest up for a while and you will return to your unit in your own transport via the Canal Road,
please do not reveal to anyone including your senior officers of what you were involved with today.” I felt like saying what the hell were we involved in other than
chaperone a load of mouldy fruit and vegetables. All the time we were stretching our necks trying to see what was going on back on the quayside.
We were taken to the naval cookhouse where separate tables had been prepared. The naval ratings in the cookhouse kept clear of us, as if they had been ordered to,
but they were obviously bemused to see this unidentifiable band of armed personnel. After a while we were ready to make our way back to our units.
But the story does not end here and it would be the next day before we returned to our unit at TeK.
By the time we left the dockyards it was already dark and we started back on the Canal Road. We had reached a point on the Canal Road close to El Ballah, when
there was a flash of blinding light followed by a screech of brakes, the truck swung to the right and the front dropped sharply and we came to an abrupt halt. We were
thrown forward sharply and I hit my face on the headboard. What had happened was that the driver had been blinded on taking a bend by the navigational light of a ship
coming up the Canal. These lights were mounted high on the bow of the ship and were extremely powerful. The truck then veered down the verge and came to a halt
half in and half out the Sweet Water Canal which at this point ran parallel with the Canal.
Here my memory fails me. I can vaguely remember sitting on the side of the road looking at the arse-end of the ship going up the Canal, and later walking into a brightly
lit medical room getting my nose plugged by a Doctor or medical orderly, (I suffered a nasty nose bleed from hitting the my face on the headboard and the bleeding
wouldn’t stop,) and then laying on a bed somewhere near the medical room. To digress, many years later I had an X-ray on my nose for sinus problems and the Doctor
told me, “You have a small broken bone in your nose.” I wonder if there was a connection.
I believe that after the accident we were taken by one of the trucks following us to the near by Gordon Camp where I was treated and where we spent the night, I can
recall that nobody else was hurt, but when and how we got back to TeK, I haven’t the foggiest idea but I do recall having what seemed about five yards of gauze
removed from my nose by an Army doctor in TeK the following day, and that it was bloody painful.
I still try to answer the followings questions in my mind.
Why take personnel from TeK? There were plenty of RMP around Moascar.
Why the need for anonyminity, i.e., no badges etc?
Why take the Treaty Road?
Why would they not let us see the trucks being unloaded?
Why the order not to reveal our operation to anyone?
Was it just an expensive operation just to deliver fruit and vegetables to the Navy? I think not.
And last but not least, what was really in those bloody trucks?
L/Cpl Bryn Evans
No.1 RMP Dog Coy
5 BOD-Tel-El-Kebir, 1951
© Bryn Evans. January 2008.
us that as we had the following day off, we had volunteered (?) for special escort duty. We were to report to the guardroom at 10 am, (without dogs) draw side arms and
wait for orders. Dress was to be as worn as on stag, but with no identifiable military insignia or badges. This didn’t make much difference to us, as this was our usual
dress, except for the odd toy ‘Sheriff' or 'Deputy Marshal‘ badge the lads used to pin on for a laugh. We asked what we would be doing and the duty NCO told us he had
no idea. Next day we reported to the guard room, where there was a covered RASC Bedford 15 CWT parked outside. After we had drawn our side arms we jumped into
the back of the truck. Once inside we asked the driver where we were going. He said first stop was a rendezvous on the Treaty Road just outside Ismailia and then up to
Port Said and then back to TeK, that’s all he knew. We were surprised as we thought we be doing something within the TeK garrison.
We duly arrived at the rendezvous, where there was about 20 or so Bedford 3 ton QL’s lined up in convoy. A Sergeant came up to us and told us to stand by our vehicle. There were several other vehicles parked close by, including RMP Provost Jeeps and 15 cwts, with other personnel sitting in them all in mufti. After a while a Lieutenant came up to us and his first words were, “Where the bloody hell have you come from? You look like the Jessie James Gang“ I think he was surprised to see our side
arms (.38 Smith and Wesson) slung low in non regulation holsters on our right legs and our neckerchiefs and soft hats. His orders were short and simple, “We are going
to the Naval Dockyard at Port Said, you each pick a truck, ,jump in the back and if any unauthorised person tries to get in the truck, once we are moving, shoot them,
and do not touch the contents in the back of the truck. Collect water and rations from that truck over there. Thank you.”
We were to travel north to Port Said on the Treaty Road which runs parallel with the Canal Road. The Treaty Road was not as well maintained or used as frequently by
the military as the Canal Road and it passed through several villages where there had been instances of vehicles being fired on.
I collected my water and rations, jumped into the back of a truck which was covered by a canvas tilt canopy. Three quarters of the inside was stacked way above the
headboard with a mix of crates and bundles, piled on top of each other, some were identifiable as food stuff including fresh fruit and vegetables.
The drive north was uneventful; except for kids and dogs from the villages chasing after the trucks. We drove straight into the Naval Dockyards at Port Said and parked
in a clearing area. A British Naval destroyer under full steam was moored some way off with a gangway lowered onto the quayside. Armed Naval ratings stood each
side of the gangway. The first truck was ordered to draw up along side the gangway and naval ratings started to unload the contents but did not take them onto the
destroyer but stacked them onto the quayside.
At this point we were all ordered to get out of the trucks and to assemble some distance away from the quayside. The Lieutenant came up to us and said, ”Thank you gentleman, a meal is being prepared for you in the Dockyard cookhouse, rest up for a while and you will return to your unit in your own transport via the Canal Road,
please do not reveal to anyone including your senior officers of what you were involved with today.” I felt like saying what the hell were we involved in other than
chaperone a load of mouldy fruit and vegetables. All the time we were stretching our necks trying to see what was going on back on the quayside.
We were taken to the naval cookhouse where separate tables had been prepared. The naval ratings in the cookhouse kept clear of us, as if they had been ordered to,
but they were obviously bemused to see this unidentifiable band of armed personnel. After a while we were ready to make our way back to our units.
But the story does not end here and it would be the next day before we returned to our unit at TeK.
By the time we left the dockyards it was already dark and we started back on the Canal Road. We had reached a point on the Canal Road close to El Ballah, when
there was a flash of blinding light followed by a screech of brakes, the truck swung to the right and the front dropped sharply and we came to an abrupt halt. We were
thrown forward sharply and I hit my face on the headboard. What had happened was that the driver had been blinded on taking a bend by the navigational light of a ship
coming up the Canal. These lights were mounted high on the bow of the ship and were extremely powerful. The truck then veered down the verge and came to a halt
half in and half out the Sweet Water Canal which at this point ran parallel with the Canal.
Here my memory fails me. I can vaguely remember sitting on the side of the road looking at the arse-end of the ship going up the Canal, and later walking into a brightly
lit medical room getting my nose plugged by a Doctor or medical orderly, (I suffered a nasty nose bleed from hitting the my face on the headboard and the bleeding
wouldn’t stop,) and then laying on a bed somewhere near the medical room. To digress, many years later I had an X-ray on my nose for sinus problems and the Doctor
told me, “You have a small broken bone in your nose.” I wonder if there was a connection.
I believe that after the accident we were taken by one of the trucks following us to the near by Gordon Camp where I was treated and where we spent the night, I can
recall that nobody else was hurt, but when and how we got back to TeK, I haven’t the foggiest idea but I do recall having what seemed about five yards of gauze
removed from my nose by an Army doctor in TeK the following day, and that it was bloody painful.
I still try to answer the followings questions in my mind.
Why take personnel from TeK? There were plenty of RMP around Moascar.
Why the need for anonyminity, i.e., no badges etc?
Why take the Treaty Road?
Why would they not let us see the trucks being unloaded?
Why the order not to reveal our operation to anyone?
Was it just an expensive operation just to deliver fruit and vegetables to the Navy? I think not.
And last but not least, what was really in those bloody trucks?
L/Cpl Bryn Evans
No.1 RMP Dog Coy
5 BOD-Tel-El-Kebir, 1951
© Bryn Evans. January 2008.
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