My Life by Lionel Graves. (Page 22)
This browned me off and I determined to get myself out of it. The Officer knew I had had a little education and that I was toying with the idea of teaching and he suggested I go on an interview in Cairo for a one year emergency teacher training course when demobbed. Having nothing better to do, I went. The interviewer knew my old Headteacher from Tenbury School, Tom Long, talk about a small world, but after discussing things with him he realised that I did not know my own mind so said he wouldn't recommend me for one. (Thank goodness, fate played a part again in my life).
So back to the ledgers, in boredom started an Education French course, went to Heliopolis swimming pool to see a Tommy Trinder show, the driver of the half-track (wheels at front, tank tracks at rear) was drunk and drove far too fast. I jumped off the back almost before he stopped at the barrack gates. Later I heard he had gone down town and ran over an Egyptian, killing him. The same night I had a terrible attack of prickly heat where the back itches so badly it is just torment. I got under the shower for half an hour then poured half a bottle of coconut oil hair dressing on my back, it seemed better the next day.
Firstly the officer asked if I would like to apply for transfer to the Royal Army Education Corps, anything to escape. I got a posting to an Education Corps camp on top of Mt. Carmel, Haifa, for a 4-6 week course for unit instructors, education officers and staff. I packed up my troubles in my old kit bag and was off to Haifa again, by rail properly this time.
At the camp, which could have been the same one that I had read about recently about the invasion of Crete, the Special Operation Executive (S.O.E) had a training school in 1942 based on Mt. Carmel for training secret agents used mainly in Crete. Greeks, Jugoslavs, Albanians and Cretans were all trained in resistance warfare. They went to the Crusader Castle at Athlit to practise marine sabotage, swimming out to caiques to attach limpet mines.
As I was saying at the camp we were a mixed lot of officers and other ranks, so we other ranks were all made up to temporary, acting, unpaid, sergeants – a nice jump up from a trooper, the only snag being that we lost our three stripes if we failed the course and were RTU'd (returned to unit) meaning a loss of face at home on having to revert. We had lectures, and also had to give them to the others on the course. I can remember I gave a talk on the Industrial Revolution and kept banging my hand on a nail sticking out of a blackboard leaning against the desk, but this seemed to be the only criticism so it must have been OK.
What helped swing it was that I had finally decided to go into teaching after all, and put that down on a form. One officer on the course I got friendly with and we had long chats putting the world to rights was a Lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards called Lt. Lord Balniel, he was the eldest son of the Earl of Crawford, Scotland's premier earl and later became Earl himself, but that's enough name dropping.
Having passed the course, my promotion was confirmed and I was posted back to a transit camp in Cairo to await developments. There I found time to visit the remnants of the old mob at Abbassia, who viewed my three stripes with mixed feelings. I bumped into Pat Clifton, an old friend at Kings School, who with the Kings Dragoon Guards had moved into out quarters. He invited me into the NAAFI, but I had to take my tunic off and borrow his because sergeants weren't allowed in the NAAFI, one stroppy old soldier, a barrack room lawyer and a miserable old git, passed a few snide remarks but we just ignored him.
Then came the first real unit posting of my own, to the 78th Military Hospital which was a mental hospital at Fayid in the Suez Canal Zone on the Great Bitter Lake. As usual when I got to the station at Fayid, which was just two small platforms in the sand with a tiny waiting room, it was late and there was nobody there, so I spent the night huddled on a seat or pacing the sand till the following morning. The sunrise was magnificent. Finally, someone appeared with a lorry and gave me a lift to the 78th.
Guarding German POW working parties, - invisible!
Abbassia Barracks, Cairo.
Fayid. Main railway station for all Middle East land Forces.
Email: Lionel Graves (lionel@graf-tek.com).
Copyright ©2000-2008 L. Graves. All Rights Reserved.
