We spent the day and night camped on the nearby wartime Italian airstrip in view of the huge hangar that towered over the tallest of palm trees. Here we serviced our vehicles and our weary men regained strength for the return trip.
Next day we set off toward Benghazi, via Jalo, and in the middle of “nowhere” we met this busload of singing, pushing and sand channelling Arabs heading East. They were not heading towards Kufra, the nearest waterhole according to the map, however, they seemed happy enough.
After more bartering in Jalo, we joined the track used by the big oil trucks when travelling to the coast. Along this track we saw the complete change from sand to rocky country and into grassland. Each mile gave us something new to see. Nearing the coast we saw (and smelt) large herds of camels and the occasional Nomad tribe. At the coast we turned towards Benghazi.
A day and a half in Benghazi. We stormed the bars, the cabarets and the casino. We even mustered enough shillings together to have a drink with the members of Cyrenica Provost Section in their prosperous little Mess, where never a dry moment is suffered.
The rest of the homeward journey was via the coast road along which we visited the ruins of Cyrene and Apollina. We passed through Bacha and down treacherous mountainous roads to the market town of Derna. Spent a night with the First Battalion of the Gloucestershire Regiment and then home to Tobruk.
Sixteen very eager but inexperienced men began the expedition. Sixteen rather tired, sun-tanned and desert wizened men returned with stories very much longer than this one. The three of us were not sure whether we would do it again, but we would not have missed this opportunity for the world.
Reproduced from RMPA Journal 3rd Quarter 1962
Thanks Tony for this interesting account of your Expedition in the desert.
DEAR MUM …..MORE FROM THE PEN OF JOCK FRASER
4 July 1958 ~ (Deployment Exercise – all “vital departments” dispersed away from Aircent and operating from various hidey holes in the countryside)
Had the exercise last Monday, (having been delayed by the French Algerian crisis), and what a shambles that turned out to be! 250 vehicles tearing the length and breadth of the neighbourhood and most hopelessly lost. For example, I had to patrol round visiting a number of dispersed sites, checking they had assembled and reported in. En route to one site we found a cluster of vehicles, UK, US and French all pulled in at the side of the road with the drivers playing football in the road. I stopped and checked their route orders and they were in the right place, but with no Control Officer to meet them, check them off and return them to base. For all I know their bleached bones may be there yet. About 10km further on were a French Colonel and a Belgian Commandant sitting on the bonnet of their staff car looking disconsolate – they were the Control Officers for another bunch of trucks and had been sitting there for two hours and only seen a hay cart and the local hearse. Not the ones belonging to the previous group, either! Pressed on eventually to my own site where I was supposed to find 12 buses – there were only 9 though – plus one in a ditch upside down (German, so nobody really worried) and two eventually found 60km in the opposite direction. Not exactly a roaring success, but it kept the brasshats busy and spent a lot of taxpayers money so I suppose it was all right.
Derek Mold, the SAC Typist was 21 yesterday and we decided to do it in style, after working hours, in the ACOS Training offices. We spent the day slipping out to lay in stocks of booze and eats, and at 5.30 decamped along to Flt.Lt Hills office, me, John Cox, Derek, Jan our new Dutch airman, Konni the Ger.AF Stabstunteroffizier (say that with your mouth full) Guy the FrAF Cpl, Bobby J Logan USAF, Janine FrAF typist and a very dishy new FrAF WAAF Sgt Gina, Cpl Alastair Fraser RAF and one or two others. It was fairly restrained till Sgt. Ryles (RAF) arrived with a record player and went downhill from there. I smuggled in a camera and we posed in each other’s uniforms and then Sgt Ryles and myself did the “Muffin Man” game and got covered in beer. About 7 pm Derek passed out so we laid him out on some General’s desk to sleep it off (and held a very touching funeral ceremony over him – so touching even the “corpse” wept). By 10pm Bobby and Guy were wilting so we sent them off with the girls, had a quick refuel at the cafeteria bar till closing time, then all the still walking wounded piled into Sgt Ryles car and toured the Fontainebleau bars till they threw us out. Coming back, I vaguely remember Sgt Ryles driving up on the pavement and slaloming round alternate trees lining the street ……………continued on page 8