Malayan' Memoirs
1st Royal Dragoons
Malaya 1959 ~ 1961
By  23489539rooper R.V. Berry

Our sailing on the HMS Nevasa was a quiet departure from Southampton, with the 11th Hussars Band playing us off, and a dozen families and girl friends. Gibraltar & Malta were passed by, and at our first stop, the Suez, we couldn't leave the boat. At night some of the 11th Hussars advance party (who we were dropping in Aden) went swimming around the boat (or is that ship?), and they rued the day, as the Nevasa started moving to a new mooring place about 100yds away, but the guys in the water hadn't been told, and they panicked. Then our first time off the Nevasa, which was a wasted time, as the beer was 8/- bob a bottle ('59). We stopped and gaped as a Scots Regiment was marching or drilling to their band, in kilts, and it was 100deg in the shade.

Next stop was Colombo, Ceylon, (now Sri Lanka) which was interesting. The snake charmer chap was a card, with a hundred interested fools standing for an hour whilst he put all new pads on his flute. While he was doing this, he would reach over, pull off the snakes' basket, and cuffed them to keep them awake. They, the snakes, reminded me of the snake in the Wizard of Id, and the grounds were a bright red, from people chewing betel nuts, and hawking it. A haircut was an experience. First, it looked like a hole in the wall, but inside it was like a New York salon, with white tile and chrome, and the chair sitting like a throne. I declined when the scissors were aimed at my ears and nose, as I was only 19 but we had nothing like that in Liverpool back then.

Then we debarked for the last time, and boarded a train for a great rail journey, with jungle coming through some windows, but it felt great. It was interesting to see the 'Gun' boxes that used to be stuck on the front. It would have been a sad job for somebody, as it was fully enclosed, and was made from 3" armoured steel in 100+degrees temperature. Then finally we reached Ipoh, our home for the next 2 years and there was lots of jungle, which no one had told me about, but Malaya was my 'Brigadoon' from then on.

The first day that Vietnam was mentioned was when Cpl. 'Dinger' Bell, stuck his head through the Basha window followed by his shoulder-slung Bren. I could tell by his smile that something bloody unusual was taking place, but none of us took the bait from this comedian, and Dinger was dying to be the first to tell the C.O. by his expression. "OK you swine, get dressed."  "What, like you?" "If you want to fight in your towels with the Vietnamese, sure." "Do what" said Dave whose bed was under Dingers head. "Look out of the window then.” as one of us walked outside, "Bloody Hell", most said, then ‘Zoot’ and Jim got off their beds and looked out, and then walked back to their lockers and started to dress in civvies, I asked them "What?" "Just tell the S/Sgt. we were downtown and heard nothing, OK?"

Cpl. D. J. mimicked a model and asked, "Just what shall a guy wear?" Nobody was really bothered. I asked 'Dinger', "How many?" "I heard 40,000." "Eh?” little Harry asked in his finest Wigan accent. Outside men were everywhere, all in their combat gear. 'Dinger' dropped his final 'surprise'. "And the Regiment has no 76mm shells." "Eh?” said Harry again. Dinger left. "Hang on ‘Zoot’." I said. "Yeah!” said Dave. 30 mins. later we were in the MLR Bar, made infamous by it being the ex- H.Q. for the CTs’, and the spy was the owner, Betty Lee, I think. (Read The War of the Running Dogs' a great book for its insight.) "I wonder if 'C' Sqdn. has any shells they can spare?" Dave shook his head whilst still drinking his Tiger. "Wot", we said, watching him still drink. Dave casually said, "They are in the Indian Ocean aboard a cargo scow."  "40 effin thou", Zoot moaned. We were back in the Basha 15 minutes later, pulling out our Para' helmets, that were never worn by cavalry regiments, but this was different, "40 effin thou", Zoot was counting on his toes. My mind was doing quick calculations on what troops we had, and I figured we could hold them until the Airborne Reaction Force got here. We had an RAF station up north from us and Canberras and Javelins would blow them off the road, if they were still there. The carrier off in the Malacca Straits only had unarmed choppers.

Outside the Saladins were revving their Rolls Royce engines. "I wonder were everybody is?" "At dinner I suppose," said Jim, looking at his watch and picking up his 'eating irons' and tin mug. Half way to the cookhouse the rest of the guys passed us. "What's up?” we asked. "The Viet Cong are going back", shouted Harry with a smile and that is how close we were to being at war, whilst in another war.

Malaysia is a country without rival in the Far East, and I say that with utmost conviction and sincerity. For me it was the incomprehensibly beautiful lay of the land. There is nothing that stands out like garish buildings or 1,000ft radio towers but from a birds-eye view, there was nothing but jungle, mostly 3 tiered. From 300ft was the top cover of broad-leaved trees onto which the Paras and the SAS could parachute on, and then abseil down to the ground. The second layer was at 200ft, festooned with vines and climbing fauna. Then 100ft with ground level last stop. You could land amongst incredible orchids, or a 6ft sinkhole now filled with quicksand that provided a meeting place for animals, because of the waterhole it presented, with butterflies not seen anywhere else, as they skip and dive as if as one, and a river bank that suddenly turns from a velvety black, to a soft clean white.

It boggles one's mind to see such incredible beauty, and through eyes that can barely see, due to mosquitoes biting the flesh of the face that held a trooper's face in a grotesque gargoyle of a man half blind, his spectacles embedded into his face at an angle. His mouth swollen so badly he could only drink through a straw. Flies crawled in and out of his open mouth, as feeling had gone in his face, poisoned so fast, through myriads of bites, not only mossies, but beetles slow flying and poisonous, foot long centipedes that if brushed off the wrong way, injected a thousand drops of acid pain, a leech drops hitting the open shoulder of an already bleeding trooper, who has to be told to burn it off. We all stop, and make a clean sweep with feet dried and powdered, and clean socks if we had them and then searched each other for leech bites, ulcerated legs, and malaria. I never missed the pethidrin; no one did; yet we had the highest rate of malaria than any other command. VD caught many an unsuspecting virgin soldier and a few not so unsuspecting non-virgin soldiers. Back at camp a pile of condemned 'jungle greens’, with rotted jungle boots starting to peel and grow holes, mouldy kit and festering bush hats were ready for burning and then the luxurious preparation started with the first shower, where your memory takes leave of the last few days, hopefully.

The time would never come, we thought, that all this would be history, shoved in some non-descriptive archives below WD betting slips or mixed with 25/- shilling bets on losing the  Ark Royal, torn up old ticket stubs to The Wall by Pink Floyd, a dirty weekend in Paris, slightly faded. But there among a million deaths, lies your paybook, 'Medical Discharge',   'Pension'  now blown. I remember thinking, "What now, do I go to the Colonies and hide or write my memoirs?" Yes, the memoirs are half finished, but Malaya (as it will always, hold the greatest memories).

Arriving in Malaya after a very acclimatizing and refreshing voyage, we were assigned to the 17th Ghurkha Division, Ipoh, Perak, in 1959. I am still adding to my Malayan memoirs like being involved (almost) in the Vietnam War twice in the space of our 2yrs posting. We complained of the number of assault trooper roles we were doing, and so did some of our officers. The fact was the troops in Malaya would comprise the 28th Commonwealth Division and we, the vanguard, were the reconnaissance cavalry. The South Seas Fleet were off Trenggenu on the northeast coast with 30 Commando Brigade onboard. The ANZACS were the only ones who got 'Nam experience, and showed them what it would be like if the 28th got in. They had marvellous luck, fighting it the Malayan style. Though the correspondent called them 'slow', as they would not walk along paths, instead keeping in the jungle, they suffered not one casualty to booby traps, or any means of that nature. While at times US deaths were 90%+ just from booby traps in one month alone.

But let us not digress. Earlier we had a preview of fear, when Vietnam taunted us by sending 40,000 NVA to Malaya. The funny 'now', not funny 'then' thing, that put things right on the NVA lot's side, was that not one round of 76mm shells was in Malaya and the scow with the shells was in the Straits of Malacca, 36hrs away, but the Colonels, being what they are, soon had the problem fixed. The NVA didn't know we had no ammo for the big guns; just a 6 wheeled Rolls Royce-engine 'thingie' with two machine guns of 7.62mm cal. Even all 3 Sqdns firing at once would only add to the noise of 10 zillion mossies, but B.S. won the day, and they disappeared. Why the hell did we leave our Lyn  'copters in the UK? They could have told us if the VC were faking it. Much ale, Tigers, and glue sniffing was partaken of on return from another days work at the 'mines', and soon it was agreed that the next time we would invade them and see how they liked it.  But the Colonel was saving us for something very special, "Us invading them" which fool let that get out we thought. " Have we got ammo this time?" rang out around Ipoh. Why is it that fear travels so well?  But fate stepped in on this one and we 'chickened out', well at least I did. I was 'medivaced' home before things got out of hand.

Leaving Malaya before my time was up, 1 year early, threw me into a long bout of manic depression. I wouldn't believe the M.O. that I was to return to the UK, where the climate would help cure my kidney area from the constant pain and discomfiture. Hell, they knew all this when I was pronounced fit fore duty anywhere. Now it would be the UK, Belfast or wherever but I had friends amongst these hard working souls. David, an Indian chap who looked after my dhobi and boots, was a very young looking guy, but he was 20 yrs older than we all thought. He was saving his rupees so that he could take his young son to the UK and work. He was a fine boot maker, who made hand-made Wellingtons for me, ankle length, and a brown pair to boot. Fortunately I could wear them on the plane, not in Paderborn though, where I was bound. After waiting for months for a transfer to the 10th Hussars, when I arrived at Paderborn the Guardroom Sgt stood at the Guardroom door, just waiting for this new clown, to tear a strip off him for wearing 'brahn boots' on his square, so my intro' to my new Regt was a right mess and it stayed that way. The guys, a couple of whom I had been training with, were there, just the Bandmaster and his chosen NCOs, who were all psychological screw ups. Turned out as bad as the one I had just left but I was relieved when I found their next move was to Chateau D'If, alias Aden.

Some of the guys I miss, as they had a great sense of humour, but I'd watch my own back thank you, even in a bar. My luck came when I found out I was going to the Ghurkhas, who were the 1st ever Ghurkha regt to be posted to the UK, at Tidworth, and that was a good posting, although at times their training was stringent. Some of us thought they were bound for Ireland, but they weren't, and I'll bet a few of the IRA s**t themselves royally when they thought the Ghurkhas were coming. My son had a ball playing with Ghurkha playmates, and the wives in Quarters were perfect for any fashion walkway in Paris, Rome, or London. They wore their saris always, so petite, and were perfectly beautiful. Smatterings of intricate jewelry were on their faces and ears, their fingers were covered, and their necklaces, which were a masterwork of art, and the filigreed parts in the silver necklaces, were made in Nepal. No one, but they, had the best looking of jewellery, which always reminded me of Colombo off Sri Lanka. In the barbershop, I was shown a half dozen 'water' sapphires on a royal blue piece of felt. I was naturally suspicious, but tried to raise the five Quid to buy them, because I have a love of good jewellery even if false, and it would be worth it. The size of the sapphires would produce 50 big stoned rings, and I would have had a bona fide receipt for them as sapphires, but God thought otherwise. He knew I'd lose them somehow. So I gave the cash back and thought perhaps 'on the way back', not knowing then that this was the HMS Nevasas' last run as a troopship. The ships signaller, a Scot, I met in Canada 10 yrs later at Air Canada where we jawed for a while, but he had been a civvy for too long and the talking soon stopped. My use of Ghurkhali now came to the front, but I really needed lessons for 6 months at the Foreign Languages School, but they weren't equipped with funds for that. The British Army pays for all those officers seconded to the Ghurkhas but as I was only there for a year, they left the decision to me. It was a great time for me, the chance to learn another language and work alongside them. It also got me a job writing occasional articles for the Nepal Digest, and renewal of old friendships, all through the vehicle of BSW.

Rod Berry
May 2002