Four days leave isn't long but I'm sure I enjoyed every minute of it. Ethel worked Monday to Friday and I waited for her every night outside the works, taking her home with the usual whistles and banter from her work mates, but it made us smile and laugh. It was all in fun. As we held hands and walked slowly to her house we were so much in love and wanted to be together as much as possible, but we knew one day we would have to part again and these partings really hurt us. We cling to each other till the last possible moment. The heart cries and so do we!

I report to the shipping pool, in the posterngate, after my leave and request to be considered for a heavy gunnery course. This was granted and I was taken to Kilnsea for five days to learn the workings of 'twelve-pounders' and four-inch guns. With the Royal Navy teaching us and being very patient, as we made a few mistakes, after five days we were told we had done well and I had passed the course. Now, if called upon, I could assist the ship's gunners. I reported back to the pool and began having my card stamped again. No ships available yet, which suited Ethel and me fine. This gave us a few more days together!

I had tried to put the King Edward convoy epic out of my mind; but sometimes my ankle would swell and become painful making me limp about for a few days. One night, in a cinema, it became unbearable and Ethel had to help me, limping, back to her house were I bathed it in cold water. Even today, sometimes it is painful and I remember that ship and the war at sea; and my shipmates who never made it home to be kissed and hugged by their mothers and sweethearts.

Going to the shipping office one day to sign on, my card is taken off me and I am told to see the doctor for a medical, which I pass O. K. I am then told a ship, the S. S. OCEAN FAME, was berthed in the King George Dock and was signing on a new crew and I was to be part of it. I made my mother the usual money allotment and signed a paper asking the shipping company to send to her any extra money I had coming if I didn't make it back. Going home, to pack my sea bag, I got the usual worried look from my mother when I told her I was going away again. I think this upset me more than anything. It would be worse when I told Ethel that night .... It would be a few more tears .... I knew we had to fill these last few days we had together!

I arrived at the King George Dock the next morning to be confronted by an armed police man who wanted to see my papers. "All right son," he said, as he told me where the ship lay, passing me through. Walking past the dock warehouse I noticed a red flag flying from the top of a ship's mast head. It meant the vessel was either loading or unloading ammunition or some other explosives. The red flag: DANGER!'.

Going round the warehouse there she was, the Ocean Fame, and it was her with the big red flag. I went aboard and made my way aft. The ship was a hive of activity. All five holds being loaded by the busy dockers. This ship was an American ship but now flying our flag, the 'red duster'; part of a lease-lend for our bases in the South Atlantic. A ship of eight thousand tons, all welded; not riveted like British ships and not as strong. Something like the liberty ships being churned out by the hundreds in America; it was similar to the Fort Aklavik.

The sailors' quarters were situated on the port side, the stokers' on the starboard, the mess room 'uptop' and three cabins down below. The first cabin was near the propeller or screw, as it is known; I moved further forward to the third cabin. This was more spacious with four bunks, two on two and put my sea bag on atop bunk. This was my bunk now. No one would move my belongings. The first cabin against the screw was a bit more confined. I had been in a cabin like this on the Fort Boat. The trouble was in heavy seas: the bows dipped well down bringing the stern out of the water exposing the propeller, which made a terrific thundering noise, as it clawed at fresh air, before crashing down into the seas again. A light sleeper didn't get much sleep at all.

I made my way amidships, to the ward room under the bridge, to report myself to the first officer. Knocking at the door, a steward opened it and I asked if I could speak to the first mate. He said, " Wait," and shut the door. The number one opened the door again, a tall gaunt man wearing his three ringed uniform . I said, "Ordinary Seaman Howard reporting for duty. Sir!" He said, "Ordinary Seaman Howard stow your gear aft." I said, "Aye, aye. Sir!" and he shut the door as I left the Bridge.

I thought I would take a look around the ship, it was certainly getting ready to go to war. The dockers were busy loading her with tanks, trucks, jeeps, big and small guns, cases of aircraft parts; anything that would run or make a bang. These were going into one, two, four and five holds. Into number three hold the men were loading bombs, shells and ammunition, that's why the red flag was flying at our masthead. I thought: for Christ sake be careful lads! The deck crew began to assemble now.

Into the cabin I was in came a London boy, about my age, an ordinary seaman, Johnny and a Hull lad, an able seaman, about twenty years old, by the name of Jack Pantry. These two and I became our watch, really great guys. We became friendly the moment we met. Jack was studying for his third mates ticket. He spent most of the time off watch sat up in his bunk writing or reading about seamanship.

The sailors or 'deck crowd', as we were known, consisted of four able seamen and five ordinary seamen, all young men in their teens or early twenties. All eager, all exited; not one of them showing the slightest sign of being afraid of all the war material being stacked into the holds. Two of the young sailors had been to the Gravesend training school, like I had. More would follow as we were losing a lot of ships and hundreds of men, most of the old 'ABs' (able bodied seamen) had gone now and ships were now being manned by young lads like myself. We were learning fast! Though while being young sailors, we were classed as hardened seamen, with most of us being engaged in some kind of action with the enemy. One young able seaman had been torpedoed twice; I hope he doesn't want his hat trick on this ship!

I thought I would take a look over the ship while we weren't called to do any work yet. Starting at the stern, I climbed onto the gun platform. It looked to me as if we had a new four-inch gun for engaging U-boats or surface craft, and on a platform above that was a Bofors gun. A quick firing anti-aircraft weapon, one of the best; also a rocket firing machine, which fired a rocket with a wire trailing behind it, hoping to wrap itself around an enemy plane's propellers to bring it down. I thought: if a plane gets as low as that it deserves to be brought down.

Moving amidships, keeping out of the way of the hard working dockers, I climbed onto the boat deck. On each side was a nest containing an Orliken gun. Onto the bridge .... on each wing port and starboard was an Orliken gun. Above the bridge .... on a small bridge called the monkey island, on either side, were two twin browning heavy machine guns. Beautiful weapons! The twins on the starboard side were assigned to me as a loader to one of the gunners. In the wheelhouse was a rack containing four rifles and a Tommy gun.

I left the bridge and went forward to the bows. On a gun platform, over looking the stem of the ship, was a 'twelve-pounder', which fired a three inch shell for attacking surface craft. This ship was certainly well armed. On the foredeck were two Paravanes, these are lowered into the sea to cut away mines. Clamped to the foremast was an extra lifting derrick which could, if required, lift up to fifty tons. From the foremast to the mainmast was a steel mesh, which could be lowered into the water by the derricks to guard our main arteries (the engine room and stoke hold) against torpedo attacks. I don't think the admiralty had left anything out against defence or attack on this ship.

Our boson joined us now, a Hull chap in his late forties, to get to know us, have a chat and to tell us our watch, mates and our stations for entering or leaving port. I was at the stern with the second mate, the boson and three other men, unless I was the helmsman. The others went forward to the bows with the first mate and 'Chippy' the carpenter.The stokers had joined the ship now, mostly from Goole and Hull. One man from Goole, Joe Becket, was a great character, nothing seemed to worry him. I've had many a meal with him in the stokers' mess room, as we was both on the same watch, always laughing and joking. Though, I'M sure, there would be nothing to laugh about being down below the water line in a U-boat attack! All these stokers took it along with their job, though I don't think I could do that job, I would be too scared. I've seen what a burst boiler can do to a human body and I'll never forget that man I saw on that rescue ship .... I only hope the medic put him out of his misery .... poor man.... and these brave men do it all for ten shillings a month more than an able seaman .... They should have been awarded a gold medal every time they put to sea! Not only the stokers .... !BUT ALL THE ENGINE ROOM STAFF. Very brave men indeed!

We began to get her ready for sea now. Getting aboard for breakfast and going ashore after four o'clock; though I sometimes stayed for the evening meal to meet Ethel from work and later on go to a club or the pictures. Most of the ship's company slept aboard now, being a long way from home. It was an easy going ship and the cooks put us some good food on and plenty of it!

Ethel, my family and I never discussed the ship or it's cargo but we knew the days were moving very close when we had to say goodbye again and that day would be heartbreaking. Most young lovers go through this ordeal, it isn't easy. It tears at the heart, and the heart cries.

We begin to close the holds now as the dockers finish their work. We put heavy beams across, wooden hatch covers on, tarpaulins, strong backs, wedges hammered in tight, derricks lowered and clamped. Life boats checked, stores brought aboard. A tanker will be coming along side soon to fill us with fresh water.

Then the morning came, when the ships' gunners came aboard. Along the quay side marched seventeen navy men led by a leading killock. No sooner had we got over the shock of seeing so many gunners, when five soldiers arrived led by a sergeant. The navy taking command of all the guns from amidships to the bows; the army taking over all the stern guns. Where the hell are we bound for? We have enough stuff' here to start our own war!

Everything began to look 'ship shape' now; the dockers had finished and gone. We began to sweep the decks, wash them down with the hoses and tidy everything up. We had plenty of rubbish to dump when at sea. All the derricks will have to be stripped down; all ropes and wires stowed in the forepeak. We moved ship to fill our coal bunkers. This was it! It will be our last day in port .... my last night with my love.

We know how it will end: we will kiss, holding each other tightly, lovers do cry when they have to part. We are so very much in love .... How long will we be apart? .... We don't know! Will we hold each other tight again? .... Will we smile and laugh again? .... She is crying softly at my shoulder. "I wish you hadn't to go," she says. The urge is strong to stay, but I can't; I must go! One last kiss .... "See you soon, Darling." I move away.... she is crying at the door .... l am crying as I hurry down the street.

In the morning I say goodbye to the family: shake hands with my father before he goes to work, my mother hugs me, gives me a kiss and tells me to be a good lad. I say, " Yes, mam. " I hurry out of the house and make my way to the docks. On board ship it is all activity. We are ready to set sail. A tug is at our bows. The pilot is on the bridge. The gangway is lifted. Our mooring lines are singled up. The sailors go to their allotted stations. Captain Brett shouts, "Let go for-ard! Let go aft!" The dock side 'maties' drop our thick ropes in the water and we haul them aboard using our winches. We part company with my home town and move away. The tug takes the strain of this heavy ship. Whistles are blown. The telegraph clangs. The propeller begins it's turns and the Ocean Fame glides through the lock gates. At the gates, shouts from men, stood there wishing us good luck. Maybe they know something; we know nothing! Where the hell are we going?

Into the Humber the boson orders us to take the covers off the life-boats, swing them out and make them fast. The gunners uncover the guns and begin to check the ammunition and every thing else they have to do in case of an enemy attack. As the ship sails down the Humber, we go amidships, to the chief steward for our soft waistcoat life jackets, a whistle and clip on shoulder red lights; also a pair of thick string gloves for lookout duties. We will need these if we are going on the 'Russian run', as convoys are known who go to Murmansk or Arkangel. Not only do ships have to contend with U-boats and enemy aircraft but the very cold and freezing weather. Ice piles up on deck and if it isn't cleared away, has been known to turn a ship over and the life span of a human body in the arctic water is no more than three seconds.

Joining a convoy coming up from the south, after our pilot has left us in his waiting launch, we settled down to begin our watches. Jack, Johnny and I are on the four to eight watch with the first mate. He wasn't a very talkable chap and didn't seem to get on with a lot of the men. We had to be very careful with our steering or reporting clearly on the bridge. I once sailed with an officer like this before. Sometimes on a very calm and flat sea he would stand on the wing of the bridge look aft and if the wake of the ship wasn't straight he would charge into the wheelhouse and shout. "Watch your steering!" or "Why don't you go back and dot your Ps!" which didn't do a lot of good for the helmsman. Two hours of him and a man left the bridge a total wreck.

We left the convoy and made our way to Sunderland for a few days to top up with more war supplies, more ammunition and army naffy stores; these included crates of army uniforms and boots (left boots in some and right boots in the others). It made it difficult to get a proper pair, if we got the chance. We then left Sunderland and joined a convoy heading north for Scotland.

We had a request, from the leading navy gunner, if one of his lads could share our cabin as we had a spare bunk and he was sleeping on the deck. He was a London chap and on the same watch as us three. We said "Yes," and made him welcome. This was a good ship's company, nearly all young men but I think the chief cook, whom I knew, the second cook and the galley boy were over worked feeding this lot.

We dropped anchor in the waters of Loch Ewe, in Scotland, to await our orders. We also came off watch to go back on day work. The boson receives his orders from the chief officer before breakfast every morning, which are; to tidy the ship up, strip the derricks of ropes and wires and stow them in the forepeak. The navy and army gunners stay on watch, not far away from their guns, in case of a sudden air attack. It was like living under a lethal umbrella of fire power.

Our commander, Captain Brett, is a tall heavy man with twinkling eyes. He always reminded me of Charles Laughton, the film star. He spends a lot of his time on the bridge or in the chart room. Sunday mornings are captain's rounds, after breakfast, accompanied by the chief mate. I don't think he found anything out of place in our quarters, but our watch was always in our bunks asleep or pretending to be asleep as he entered our cabin, just a quick look around, then out again. I think if he found anything wrong it would be a warning, the next time he would log us, that is a money fine. A captain is a father and a judge over all of us.

Ships are gathering in the loch now, bigger ships, plenty of American liberty boats. These ships are all welded like the Ocean Fame. America are laying these ships down every few weeks. They are not very strong, always seem to break in half just before the bridge, as I have seen on my sea travels; not as good as a riveted ship but can do about eleven knots an hour.

Our orders have arrived now. We go back on watches. The ship is to leave the anchorage. The first mate goes to the bows with 'Chippy' and Jack. The third mate blows down the voice pipe, to the engine room, for steam on deck to work the windlass. It is my trick at the wheel, as it is known, so I take my life jacket up to the bridge and go into the wheelhouse. The captain is on the bridge with the second and third mates. I take the helm noticing that the wheel is amidships. I report. "Ordinary Seaman Howard at the wheel. Sir!" The second mate turns, "Very well," he says. The captain shouts to the number one. "Bring her up, Mister Mate," and up the hook comes. All the other ships are doing exactly the same as us. The destroyers, our escort, glide slowly by to take up their positions. These grey animals of the sea will already be on full alert and sniffing around the waters and the sky. They will attack anything that is a danger to their charges, the convoy. We rely on them and they never let us down.

The third mate is standing by the telegraph, he has already rung down to the engine room to stand by; the captain turns, "Slow ahead, Mister," he says. "Slow ahead. Sir!" He jangles the telegraph. The engineer on watch responds immediately from down below, he has stood by waiting for this signal. The water seems to erupt from under the stern as the propeller begins it's revolutions and we move out with the other ships. The chief mate comes back onto the bridge. This is his watch and he will take over, when the captain has satisfied himself the ship is running smoothly. I take my orders and repeat back, calmly and correctly, moving the wheel degrees to port or starboard till the Ocean Fame finds herself astern of an American liberty ship. This is our station now. We will follow the ship ahead. When darkness falls, we will follow the blue light she will show on her stern. We will do exactly the same to the ship astern of us, this is easier than steering by compass. The officer on watch will use the voice pipe to the engine room for more or less revolutions to keep a good station. The leading ships in each column will steer by compass.

John comes into the wheelhouse to relieve me. I will do one hour stand by, then relieve Jack on lookout for an hour. Jack will call the next watch and bridge officer at seven thirty, with breakfast. For the eight to twelve watch, at eight bells or eight o'clock, we three will be relieved. We will meet at the galley and take ours and the other watch's breakfast to the forecastle. The other watches will do the same. We take it in turns to do the first two hours at the wheel. We rotate the four hours: on watch, wheel, lookout and stand by. The man going to the wheel will first read the log, which streams astern of us on a rotating fin, which shows the sea miles we have travelled and relays it to the officer on watch, before relieving the helms man, and so the convoy is formed. The destroyers are on the flanks: two on either side, one astern. The bow destroyer moves at a leisurely pace, from port to starboard, across the leading ships. Sometimes we are fortunate to have an anti-aircraft cruiser in the middle of the convoy, up and down the east coast bristling with it's own gun power.

Ships are joining us now but our convoy is sailing to the top of Scotland and steering to port, so we aren't going on the 'Russian run'; I think we all are grateful for that; besides , I don't like the cold. It's not only the cold, the sailors have to put up with, but when the convoy does manage to get through to Murmansk or Arkangel and moored up along side, the docks are guarded by armed soldiers and all shore leave is refused and so, we go around Scotland and down the other side. But where is the next theatre of war The ship's talk is we are sailing to North Africa, at least it will be nice and warm down there. It would have been a lot quicker going through the channel but with those big guns on the French coast, the dive bombers and those deadly E-boats, we would have been chopped to pieces. I experienced the fire power of those guns on another ship I was on, they certainly make the teeth 'rattle'.

The convoy makes good progress and we only get a few alarms. The destroyers twist and turn at speed hoping to get a contact. It's marvellous to watch them bow waves, high signal flags flying; and it must ease the tension for the navy just guarding a lumbering convoy. The Bay of Biscay is it's usual nasty self but we feel safer from U-boats; it isn't often they attack in seas like this. The weather is lovely and warm as we enter Gibraltar harbour. The only scare we have is when a liberty ship gets far too close to us and Joe Becket, just coming off watch, seeing this, shouts down to the stoke hole to send some coal up with the clinkers and promptly starts hurling missiles at the ship. The American sailors replying and both captains shouting from their bridges to knock it off; Joe running aft laughing his head off. I think he's crackers; but he's a great guy -- !

We only stay long enough at ' Gib.' to drop anchor and raise it again with our orders for our final destination: it is Algiers, North Africa, accompanied by a lone destroyer. We sail across the flat sea of the Mediterranean and enter the port. The boat men take our lowered ropes and put them over the dock bollards and we take the strain of the ropes on the winches and slowly pull the ship along side the quay. We put more mooring ropes out and make them fast aboard, lower the gang-way and finish with steam on deck. The ship is a lot quieter now. We have arrived without a lot of bother.

Tomorrow, we will begin to rig the derricks for discharging the cargo. British soldiers are patrolling the docks with slung rifles. Tonight we will sleep easy in our bunks. One of the married ordinary seaman has volunteered to be night watchman whilst in port, he is a bit of a loner and a bit quieter than most of us. He will take a walk around the decks at times and give the cooks a call in the morning, then give us a shout and bring our breakfast to the forecastle; his day is finished then. He doesn't do any day work; the gunners carry on with their own watches.

In the morning the boson comes into the mess room to turn us to. The first mate has ordered all hatches to be uncovered so the unloading can begin. As we begin our work, along the dock side comes a squad, of British soldiers, led by a tall sergeant major, who promptly comes aboard and stands by all the winches. The Scottish sergeant major strolls along the deck tapping his leg with his cane. Then, along the quayside come dozens of Arabs and they come aboard; they stand still. The foremen, who ever they are, approach the major one by one. The sergeant major thrusts his cane out in front of him, a foreman stops, with the cane touching his chest, and he shouts at them to take their party to such and such a hold. I am working, stood against him, helping to take the hatch covers off and the sergeant major looks at me and says, "Keep them at arms length laddie, the bastards stink!" He looked to me to be a right hand full. The work to unload us begins. This will take a few days. The tanks and trucks are taken out by dockside cranes. To keep us busy: we splice a rope or a wire, chip and scrape at rust spots, paint or go over the side on a raft to chip and scrape the rust off bad spots and cover with red lead and grey paint. We keep well clear of the ships outlets.

Six of us go a shore the first night, though we haven't any money yet. We thought we would have a look around town. There were plenty of soldiers here, dressed in khaki; we have our usual clothes on, a pair of jeans and a jersey. We find ourselves in the Arab quarters, this is out of bounds for service men, but we go on and come across a building with the sound of snake charmers pipes. We go in. Arab men are sat around the wall where the noise is coming from. Three men, one tapping a small drum; in the middle of the floor is a young Arab girl, dancing exactly as we see on the films, gyrating her slim young body with arms above her head with clickers in her hands. We wonder if we should be there but we go in and sit cross legged against the wall. No one tells us we aren't wanted, so we watch this young ,girl perform her dance around the room; but all of a sudden the door crashes open and in rushes four military police men (Red Caps) to try to capture any service men who shouldn't be there. One, a sergeant, strides over to us. He says, "Who are you lot? What are you doing here?" Jack says, "We are merchant navy, sergeant and we are enjoying the dance." I don't think the sergeant knows what to say but he says, "O. K. lads. Have a good night," and walks away. I thought if we had been in uniform, we would have been slung right in the brig. As the dance and the music have been disrupted by the police, we stand up to go out, but the young dancer comes up to us and says, " You come with me Johnny?" We try to explain we have no money. Seeing a ring on Pete's finger, she says, "You give me? You come with me?" Pete, probably captivated by this young beauty, gives in and disappears with her. We wait for him till he finally reappears again, a bit dishevelled minus his ring!

The unloading is under way now. The sergeant major moves along the deck, taping his leg with his cane, pointing and shouting at the Arab dockers. His soldier winch men use the derricks skilfully. It takes quite a few days to unload our cargo, then the ship is all stripped out and we wait for orders. We take stores aboard, including camel meat, which seems to be wrapped around the Arabs' backs. As they bring it aboard, we also fill up our bunkers with coal and our tanks with water, then along the dock comes our cargo. It is tanks, guns, trucks and all kinds of war materials; we can't believe this! We have just unloaded a ship full of war, now we are taking it back! I notice these tanks and guns look as if they have just come out of the desert, there is even barbed wire coiled up on the tanks; so we load again.

The days are hot, the nights cool, but we enjoy it. Our bodies are getting brown; we only wear shorts. Soon our holds are filled again. The Arabs depart. The sergeant major takes his soldiers away. We begin to batten down our hatches. We lower the derricks and make them fast. We single our mooring lines up; now we are ready to go to sea.

We are told two troopships and an American destroyer have been attacked and sunk by torpedo planes off Algiers; nothing else is told us.

The watches are set again, we all move back four hours. Jack, Johnny and I are now with the second mate on 'twelve to four'. He is easy going. We find him O. K. and then the order comes. "Let go forward. Let go aft!" We leave the quay side and go to sea.

We sail across the Mediterranean, with escort, for Sicily and drop anchor. Our next port will be somewhere in Italy. Mount Etna is quiet, but I see a small plume of smoke coming out of it's crater.

We sail out of Sicily with more ships for Taranto, an Italian naval base, but then proceed to Naples. There is activity around the port; I don't think we are far from the actual fighting. The first thing I see is a liner lying on it's side, probably got in the way of something unpleasant. We make fast along the quayside here and get ready to unload. We are not allowed ashore, there is a typhoid scare on. The Italian dockers come aboard and work day and night to unload this cargo of death. The forty ton centurion tanks come out of the holds first and get loaded on railway trucks, then the big guns follow. This lot is maybe on the way to the front lines right away. It doesn't take long to unload, then we batten down our hatches and leave Naples to go back to North Africa for another load. Plenty of ships are doing exactly the same as us: taking the eighth army supplies across to Italy. We drop anchor at Bizerta to await orders.

The Americans had taken Bizerta in May, but had maybe taken a bit of a hammering. We can still see helmets, packs and other stuff along the beach. In the harbour, three liberty ships, broken in half, just before the bridge, lay as if dead.

We sail to Bone to get loaded again. Just before we arrive, a German bomber flying low over the water and in between allied ships, which are lying two abreast on either side, to load quicker, by dockside and barges, can't open fire afraid of hitting each other. The enemy plane soared upwards to release it's bombs but unfortunately, for the pilot and his crew, a British destroyer was laying broadside on and was elevating it's guns and before it could drop it's bombs, the destroyer opened fire with all it's armaments and simply blew it to pieces.

On my birthday, November Twenty Sixth, a British troopship, the Rohna, was sunk off Algeria by glider bombs, with a great loss of life. It is my twentieth birthday.

The Ocean Fame moors along side the quay again and more tanks, guns, trucks and ammunition are entered into our holds, for us to batten down our hatches, for us to make our way across the Mediterranean; this time to Brindisi, an Italian sea plane base. These voyages across to Italy are a bit quieter now that the allied navies have taken control and the Italians have changed side and most of their navy was based at Malta.

In Brindisi one day, as we finish our work, Jack and I go ashore to stroll around and call in the bars for a drink. The people are quite friendly and make us welcome. I think we had too much muscatel and vino when Jack spotted a small hand cart, outside a shop and got in the shafts and with me sitting on the back, shot off down the street with an Italian running after us shouting and waving his arms about and me yelling at Jack. "Faster! Faster!" but all of a sudden a redcap rode up alongside on his motorbike and pulled out his revolver, pointed it at me and shouted at Jack to stop. I think I turned a shadier pale of grey as Jack stopped. The red cap got off his bike, still pointing the revolver at us and the Italian running up demanding his cart back. The red cap holstered his gun and I think we sobered up quick. "Now then", he said, as the Italian took control of his cart and made off. "Tell me who you are and what the hell are you up to?" We said we are seamen on the Ocean Fame and we had come ashore for a drink. "All right lads", he said. "Go back aboard and don't be so bloody daft. No harm's been done." We thanked him and he rode away with a wave of his hand; but by hell he frightened me with that revolver, it looked like a bloody cross-channel gun!

We sail from Brindisi, across the 'Med.', to load up again in Algiers; U-boats are active again and glider bombs are being used four ships being hit and sunk off the coast. We begin to load centurion tanks and big guns on tracks, also bombs, shells and ammunition. It is December now and as we complete our loading and put to sea, the Mediterranean is suffering one of it's worst gales; we loose sight of the convoy and the weather closes in fast. The visibility is down to zero and we are on our own! As we are rolling about in the seas, the big guns and tanks, down below, are rearing up on their tracks and hurling themselves at the ship's sides, with the gun barrels trying to smash their way out! It sounded like so many giant hammers! First one side then the other! Captain Brett, on the bridge, is getting worried; I am at the helm trying to steer by compass. The storm is lashing the ship's sides! We are taking water over the top! He says to the second mate. "We must turn the ship soon or we all will be interned in Marseilles!" As I am relieved on the bridge, he says, "Get the men down below and tell them to try and lash them tanks down!" So the boson takes all his sailors into the ship's holds, with arc lights and wire ropes, to do our best to make these tanks more secure. As we stand alongside and look up at these massive monsters, rearing back on their tracks and hurling themselves and the gun barrels at the ship's side, we know we are on a loser. "O. K. lads....!" says the boson. "We can't do anything down here!

Up top, quick!" We scramble up the ladder, swaying from side to side and he goes to the bridge to report. "All right...!" says Captain Brett, "Warn everyone I am turning the ship! We are going back!" .... and he does.

The ship's side is under water on the beam ends! It is a bit shaky, but it comes around all right, and we head back to North Africa. We haven't been sailing a few hours, when out of the murk appears a British cruiser and it's captain shouts through his bull horn. "What ship are you?!" Our captain replies, "We are the Ocean Fame and we have lost the convoy for Italy!" He shouts back, "Where was your position?!" Our captain gives him a position on the charts where he thinks we have been. With that their captain goes into his chart room to look at his charts and rushes out! He shouts," You daft bugger, you've been in a British minefield all night!!" We look at each other, mouths open. "what?! A minefield  We can't believe it! We are full of ammunition, a bloody great gale blowing and there we were wallowing about in a BLOODY MINEFIELD!!!! Their captain shouts "Follow me! I will take you across to Taranto!"

We follow the cruiser to Taranto, there, we are told to proceed to Bari, on the east coast of Italy, accompanied by two smaller ships. As we near Bari, the port is being attacked by enemy air craft, so we stand by our guns all night and wait. The port is getting a bit of a hammering. In the morning we enter the harbour ...., it is full of sunken ships. On the left is a British destroyer, the Quail, with it's stern blown off and it's bows and guns pointing to the heavens; what was left of it's after end was supported by rafts. We are told it was ready for sea and had turned it's propellers, but it had been sitting over a mine and the vibrations had lifted it, blowing the stern part off and killing thirty five sailors! On the right of the harbour wall stood two Bofor guns, but we didn't see any gun crew. My position for entering of leaving harbour is at the stern, unless I am on the bridge. As I stood, looking backwards, four small Italian motor boats began to follow us; but I could not believe what I was seeing. As our ship was low down in the water with our cargo, the propeller was bringing bodies .... and bits of bodies .... up off the sea bed and they began to swirl about in our stern water ....! As they floated to the surface, the crews in the small boats were putting grappling hooks in them and towing them to the harbour steps, where a British soldier, wearing long green armlets, was unhooking the legs, arms and bodies and throwing the lot in a truck standing by It was like watching a horror film that 'Tommy' must have had a cast iron stomach!

The harbour was covered with thick black oil. We lowered our ropes to be taken to the dock bollards. As we put them on our winches, to pull the ship along side, the thick black foul smelly oil was running through our fingers ....

The port and the town had really taken a belting. Eighty eight German bombers had made a low level night raid. Two ammunition ships had been hit, along with tankers. Seventeen ships had been blown apart, including the American ship, the S. S. John Harvey, which had been carrying mustard gas. One thousand people had been killed. Over eight hundred injured; people fled in panic! The harbour water was a grave yard. Only masts showing above the water. I thought it was a good job we had stayed in that mine field all night, otherwise we would have copped this bloody lot!

The alarm bells rang again as we began to unload. The soldier dockers ran for cover and all our gun crews closed up. I looked over from the twin browning's gun nest .... at our open holds .... and our deadly cargo. On the dock side, in railway trucks .... more of the same. The feeling was: if one bomb is dropped amongst this lot, the ship and the whole dockside will disappear. The army was opening up smoke canisters along the dockside. The area was clouded with thick grey smoke. It was a'cough and splutter' job and we could hardly see through our tears; but it was a false alarm. The bombers could have changed course and gone after something else. One of the returning soldiers told us it was sheer panic in town. Men throwing women out of shelters, so they could get in and our soldiers throwing them out and letting the women and children back in! And I said, "Don't talk so bloody daft!" And he said, "O. K! If you don't believe me .... but it's true!" Well .... I don't know... but?

After unloading, we couldn't get out of this place fast enough; the smell of death and oil was gut retching. We sailed out, back to North Africa but that black oil was all over our mooring lines, on deck and thick along the side of the ship; a grim reminder of what could have been!

Back in Algiers, someone thought it was a good idea to send aboard two pairs of boxing gloves; the lads finished making a ring on top of number four hatch. Everyone having a good time, sparring about, till a Scottish stoker started knocking hell out of anyone that would take him on .... ! till one of the army gunners, said that he would have a go and promptly started knocking the stoker around the ring! The stoker got that angry he took his gloves offand hurled them at the gunner and walked aft!

I had my bucket with me and went down to the engine room, for hot water, to have a wash down. Going back aft, I opened the door to our quarters and this mad stoker was stood there, with a big fireman's axe raised above his head! Christi I thought, he is going to hit me with it! He shouted, "Where is he? I'll kill the bastard!" and he ran passed me on deck waving this axe. A bunch of the lads saw him coming and brought him down. The captain sent for the military police and they took him away. That was the end of boxing! A couple of trips later we asked where that stoker was, we were told, if true, he was taking ammunition up the front line for his punishment.

Christmas came and we festooned our mess-room with blown up condoms and rolls of toilet paper, but where is 'Father Christmas'? There is no peace and good will, to a lot of men out here. Six of us went ashore, before we sailed back to Italy and went into a Madame's. This was under the control of the army. It looked like a sultan's palace with a large court yard and bedrooms around the sides. Hundreds of soldiers queuing and waiting their turn at each door. As one soldier was pushed out, the French girls, completely naked, grabbed another and shut the door. We walked up a wide staircase, with more bedrooms around the balcony. Joe disappeared, with a coloured girl, into a room, as we were looking over the balcony at the scene down below. There was such a screaming and shouting from the room Joe had gone in. "Christ! He's killing her!", Jim shouted. As we opened the door and charged in, they were both naked and Joe was chasing her around the bed, smacking her behind with a towel, yelling his head off. So that's how he gets his kicks, I thought. Very strange, very strange indeed! We shut the door and let them get on with it!

We sailed out of Algiers, with our usual tanks, guns and ammunition, for Naples. Most ships were doing this now: getting the desert rats' supplies across to Italy as fast a possible. This time we took twenty soldiers with us. The Allies had landed at Anzio and the Royal Navy cruiser, Spartan, had been sunk off there by a glider bomb and U-boats were getting active again. As we neared Naples, I came on watch early one morning and a young soldier was standing at the ship's rail with his head bowed. I shouted, "Hiya Tommy! How the hell are you mate?" He looked at me and said, "Not very good. I've heard of see Naples and Dye' and I'm not very happy about it." I said, "Oh, come on, Tommy, Dye's a small island over there." He said, "Never the less I don't think I'll come out of this one." This was a premonition. It is something a person knows is going to happen before it does happen.

The ship I sailed on, the King Edward, a visiting sailor said it wouldn't come back. He was right. My cousin, Charlie Evans, serving in the Royal Navy, came to see my mother and the conversation went like this: "Hello Charlie, when do you go back?" This was the usual greeting, even if one had only been on leave ten minutes. Charlie said "I've come to see you Aunt Olive because I won't be seeing you again." "Good God, don't say that!", said mother, but Charlie was right. He was serving on the destroyer, Cambeltown, which crashed through the lock gates, at St.Nazair, with five tons of high explosives in her bows, whilst a commando raid was carried out.

Mt. Vesuvius had erupted, as we passed it on our starboard side. The mountain side was covered with moving burning fire. To see it at night was a marvellous sight, though it killed a lot of people.

We went along side at Naples, it was a hive of activity. The place was full of navel ships, landing craft coming and going. One craft came along side the ship, it's deck full of dead and wounded soldiers. A major, his chest covered in blood, looked up at us, hands holding out, appealing for water for his men; our steward gave him everything he wanted. I looked down at the khaki covered soldiers. These very brave men had faced the enemy and done their best in the cause of freedom. The troops were finding the going hard at Anzio, the enemy keeping them pinned down with heavy fire. We unloaded our cargo and were ordered to proceed and lay off Anzio and be ready, if needed, to help get the troops out. We sailed up the coast and anchored under the lee of cliffs and waited; the guns of both sides banging and crashing away. We lay there, showing no lights and as quiet as possible; our gunners staying at their guns and very alert. Sometime later the ship was ordered back to Naples. We presumed the tommies had broken the enemy and were moving inland. At Naples, Captain Brett was ordered to take the ship to Gibraltar. It looked as if our Mediterranean war was over for a while. We sailed to 'Gib.' with a destroyer, as our escort, looking after us.

To look back on our Italian campaign, I think the Ocean Fame was a lucky ship. We had been in quite a few scrapes and seen some gut retching things, but the ship's company, mostly young lads like myself, had held our heads high, done our duty and never let the ship or our country down. We were young men but we were veterans. I was proud, very proud indeed, to be part of it.

In Gibraltar, the ship took supplies aboard and waited at anchor. There we were told we weren't going home. We were sailing to the West Indies for a cargo. We left' Gib.' with a few ships and American destroyers.

Our watches dropped back again. We were now with the third mate, Mister Evans, a young Welsh man, on the eight to twelve watch. The captain, making an appearance on the bridge now and then, to see if the watch was going along smoothly, having a few words with the third, then disappearing again.

The weather was getting a lot warmer, the sea smooth and like glass, it was an idyllic cruise. We lay on the hatch tops, forgot about the war and dreamt of home.

At last we arrived at a place named San-Pedro and dropped anchor. The other ships had sailed further on. An American destroyer was on patrol. We began day work now and to get the derricks ready for loading our cargo. The island stevedores, taking over barges, coming along side the ship, loaded with tons of sacks full of sugar. We left them to it and spent our days chipping rust off' bad patches and painting, or swimming off the barges. Night time: going ashore to the bars and drinking the local rum and coke, sometimes sleeping ashore under mosquito nets. The thick black oil was still around the sides of the ship as a grim reminder of our days at Bari, but as the ship loaded it's cargo, it settled deeper in the water, the oil slowly disappeared. We loaded the last ton of sugar. We had about ten thousand tons in our holds and we began the job of covering the hatches and lowering the derricks; our destination, the United Kingdom. We were going home!

At last the steam was on, the windlass and the anchor was slowly coming up, the bridge rang down to the engine room to "Stand by." "Slow ahead." and the ship began to move. The watches were set. We reverted to the chief officer again, it was, "full ahead," to the engine room, with a quick reply, the ship shuddered as the powerful engines took over; the red ensign began to flutter. The helmsman took her out to sea, past the American destroyer with the usual 'good luck' salutes. We were away!

Our course took us to South America and up the coast. We sailed independently. There was a cover of aircraft and navel ships; U-boats had taken a beating in the Atlantic waters and not many were operating this far west. We entered the Hudson River in America and made our way to Brooklyn, past the Statue of Liberty, to our berth and made fast. Navel officers came aboard and to our surprise half our gun crew was taken off. It must have been heart breaking for these lads, having looked forward to be going home. We were told they would be going overland and shipping out to the Far East. We felt really sorry for them! Having been together all those months, we had been like one big family. America was broadcasting: " .... the allies had landed in France!" This looked as if it was beginning of the end. The war can't last much longer now.

I and some of my friends had a few nights in New York, even having a night at the Madison Square Gardens; then the orders come to leave Brooklyn and join the convoy sailing down the Hudson River. So it was goodbye to the bright lights and the city that never sleeps; soon we would be back home and in the war weary country, we had left months ago.

The convoy was a big one; faster and bigger ships. The old and the slow ships had almost disappeared; now an easy target for the cruel U-boats.

The journey across the Atlantic was a good one, just one or two alarms but they amounted to nothing. The escorting destroyers had learnt new techniques now and it was the U-boats that were on the defensive. We came to the Scottish waters and sailed down the east coast for our final destination: the River Thames and London. We could smell the land now, though sometimes we were unable to see it, which all added up to the excitement of coming home.

As we entered the river, on the way to the West India Docks, it was full of shipping going out to the invasion beeches. Nothing would hold up our victory now!

We lowered our mooring lines at the quayside, for them to be put over the shore bollards and pulled the ship along side using our winches and lowered the gangway. The ship's engines shuddered to a stop. We were home!

The journey had taken nearly a year and we were anxious for our release and go home to our loved ones. I sent a telegram but had to wait two more days before I signed off ...and then I saw my first Doodle Bug. It came flying low over the dock area till it's motor cut out .... the flame died and it took a dive over the dock and exploded with a terrific crash in the town. Rather frightening!

I was asked to sign on again but I had twenty three days leave to come, so I declined. I said goodbye to my good friends and ship mates, and with my travel warrant and three of my other friends, we boarded the train at Kings Cross for Paragon Station, Hull. The journey seemed endless, but at last it pulled into my home town and I was greeted by my sisters. We went home by taxi and it was full of all my loved ones. It was a great home coming! .... And tomorrow, I would see my darling Ethel.

The end.

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