Don't Cry, The Shooting is Over for Now

Part I
By Angus Jones
Ex 42 Commando R.M

I was only a National Serviceman in my teens, but I think the training I received was of a very high standard. It may interest you to know that in my recruit's handbook, it said that we should treat older people with respect, and also not whistle at strange girls...

At one time, in Port Said, an old lady, wearing black clothes from head to toe, became tangled up in the barbed wire while taking what she thought was a short cut. With some difficulty I at last managed to untangle her, and then helped her across the rubble. Later, my Mother sent me a picture from the English magazine "Picture Post", which I am sure was of this incident. However, they had put a caption on saying, "Don't cry, the shooting is over for now", which of course I never said.

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Part 1

The Suez Crisis Breaks

Towards the end of 1956 I was at Stonehouse Barracks, which had probably been built about the time of the Napoleonic Wars in Plymouth. It certainly gave that impression. The stone floors had large hollows worn in them from generations of boots, and the wind whistled through the gap between this and the bottom of the doors. Bugle calls seemed to give orders continuously throughout the day, making it sound like an old time cavalry fort. I had just successfully completed a JNCO's course, and the temporary stripe we had received for the course had been removed. I was then asked to consider some form of specialization.

Stonehouse Barracks
2/56 J.N.C.O.s Course
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My first choice was to become a swimmer-canoeist. This would involve training as a frogman, and also a parachute course. I passed the preliminary selection test to go on the course and the future was looking good. At this point the Suez crisis broke out and my orders were changed. I was told to report to 42 Commando at Bickleigh and here we worked up a sweat on the Devonshire Moors. Finally the unit received orders to proceed to Malta to join up with 40 and 45 Cdos.

Sleeping on Deck, under the Big Guns.

At last 42 Cdo boarded HMS Cumberland, a heavy cruiser, for Malta. Now a cruiser is designed as a fighting ship, not a troop transport. Our vehicles were secured on the decks, and with approximately 600 extra men on board, the ship seemed quite crowded. My accommodation was in an engineering workshop, and I slung my hammock next to a lathe. This was quite a bonus, as I could use the light attached to the lathe as a bedside reading lamp.

On the first day at sea, a CPO took a group of us below decks to allocate jobs for the brief voyage. As we descended into the ship, Marines were detailed off for various jobs. By the time it was almost time for me to be detailed off a job, we were deep in the bowels of the ship. Here it seemed very hot and stuffy, the air smelled oily, and the throb of the engines seemed very loud. I began to feel sick, and managed to call out, "Chief". Then I made a dash for the iron ladder, and after several more ladders, I soon found myself at the ship's rail. After this I found my sea legs, but never did find the Chief, to get allocated a job. Then we began to feel better and the journey became easier as the weather got warmer, and we slept on deck, under the big guns.

I made a sketch of one of the TCVs secured to the deck, to include in a letter home. Sadly the original sketch has been lost, and only a very poor photocopy survives. Most of the detail of the ship's superstructure, as well as the caption has been lost.

It is still possible to make out the deck planks, and to the left of the TCV, part of the ship's rail, and also part of a davit for a lifeboat. After a few days we arrived at Valletta Harbour.

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At Last in Malta

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At last in Malta we moved into our accommodation at Mtarfa. The heat made the training more difficult. The ground seemed dusty, rocky and hard. The sweat left dark marks on our shirts, where the cross straps had been. Our faces were drenched with sweat, but our mouths and lips seemed very dry. This made whistling almost impossible, as we moved backward and forward across the island. There was one consolation, however, the sea was never far away and the crystal clear water soon washed away the dust and cooled us down. Another bonus was that when you washed your clothes, they seemed to dry in a few minutes.

Old Memories

Malta was an interesting place full of history. There were traces there of Romans, Crusaders, Arabs, and French colonial style buildings, as each wave of invaders had left their mark. One of my favourite pastimes was to go swimming under water with a friend. On one occasion we came across some locals collecting sea eggs. They had wooden boxes with glass bottoms, and were using long wooden poles with an iron end (shaped like a pig's curly tail), to collect the sea eggs. Using our facemasks and fins, we soon filled all their boxes. The locals, however, although impressed with our speed, did not seem interested in adopting our new fangled ideas of collection. They were appreciative, however, and offered us some of the catch. The sea eggs were almost black on the outside and covered in very sharp spines and when broken open they were bright yellow inside. However, being very English, we declined to eat anything that was not familiar to us. During our time in Malta, we also had a cruise westwards for training.

Malta Oct 1956
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Valleta Harbour
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We Boarded our LST

At the end of October, we boarded our LST in Valletta Harbour for the purpose of another exercise. There were a large number of other ships also getting ready for sea. For reasons of security it was not mentioned that this was anything other than an exercise but it is interesting to note that UK newspapers were already publishing the current events. The 'Daily Sketch', of October 31st, stated that British Commandos had boarded assault craft in Valetta Harbour the previous night and it also made mention of convoy after convoy of armour prepared to sail. It stated that a routine exercise had developed into an emergency move eastwards and that ships had been told to shun the canal. The liner Straithaird had been diverted to Aden, and the Straithmore to Malta to await developments, instead of passing through the canal.

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On board the LST, the sun continued to set over the stern (more times than we had expected), and some of the old hands had already expressed an opinion about where we were going. At that point we were shown aerial photos of a beach, and given lectures on first aid. We were also told that if anyone got hit in the water, to grab them by their webbing and drag them ashore, dropping them off on dry land. Shortly, someone must have obtained the authority, to explain what we were up to. At this point I wrote a letter home.

Somewhere I still have the letter, complete with the Naval Censorship stamp on the envelope. On the final night on board everyone checked their equipment carefully.

My Story and the Landing

On Sunday 4th November some of the Marines attended Communion. On the night of the 5th we were cleaning our equipment and fitting it just right, also loaded our gear into our small packs, and our weapons were cleaned, and lightly oiled. In addition to the amount of ammunition in our pouches, we were issued two thin, cloth bandoliers, each holding 50 rounds. All this ammunition had to be checked in clips of 5, to ensure that the rims of the cartridges were in the correct relationship to one another. That night I slept well and almost resented being woken up at some ungodly hour the next morning.

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Reveille was Piped at 0400hrs

On Tuesday 6th November 1956 reveille was piped at 0400hrs. The men of my section had a good breakfast, for you never knew how long it was going to be before you got the opportunity to prepare some more food. As our gear had been prepared the night before, it did not take us long to assemble on the deck correctly rigged.

At Dawn on the LST

At this point I became aware of the most beautiful sky I had ever seen. It was dawn, not sunset, yet the whole sky looked a reddish orange.

This gave a pink reflection from the grey hulls of some of the ships, but many of the ships were like black silhouettes against the reddish background. It really was a beautiful sight.

Looking towards Port Said, the buildings in the distance did not appear as tall as I had expected. Towards the R.H. side of the city was a column of smoke about 1000ft. high and jet fighters were screaming overhead, to hit selected targets with rocket and cannon fire. Quite a few of the ships' guns were also joining in. Out here it seemed very noisy and it seemed to stink of gunpowder.

The ships were not permitted to fire shells over a certain calibre - 4.5 inch - on orders from London, and each ship was limited to the number of rounds they were allowed to fire.

We were soon boarding our LCA. The LCAs were suspended from the davits, like lifeboats on a liner, which were then lowered into the water and unhooked. In almost no time at all, the LCAs from both sides of our ship had formed a line, parallel to the beach, and now began to head in that direction. My position in the LCA was at the rear of the centre row. This meant I would be 10th out of this craft. As the men jumped into the sea, they would be jumping alternately left and right, to avoid a concentration of men in front of the ramp

The Landing

The landing craft each held 30 men, and on the way in each one of the rows of 10 men got a chance to stand up and look at the beach ahead. When the order to drop the ramp came, there was some complaining, as we were much further out than what we had been told we would be. The water was therefore much deeper than we expected. I had put my cigarettes in the very top of my small pack (level with my shoulders), but later in the day found that they were just a soggy mess. The water was too deep at first to run towards the beach, even though bullets were splashing in the sea around us. At this time nobody seemed to get hit.

L.C.A. - A3. Note ramp rollers
not needed on 6/11/
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L.S.T. Guns. Goes with LCA Pic.
Both Valletta Harbour
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Combined Operations
badge on
the funnel
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Exposed Position & Not Enough Men Ashore

At last we were on dry land and moved forward towards the beach huts, where we stopped just before the road under the last of the huts and there we took up firing positions, lying in the sand under the last of them. In front, on the other side of the road, were the first buildings of the city. The floor of the hut was about 5ft. above me, and my only cover was one of the hut's legs, a vertical piece of wood about 4 inches square. We were in a rather exposed position, and needed to cross the road and start clearing the buildings on the other side of it. However, at this point we did not have enough men ashore, and had to wait for more men to come ashore from the landing craft.

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The man lying next to me, on my right, was so close that I had trouble operating the bolt of my rifle and I asked him to move a bit. At this point a machine gun started firing from our right front. The bullets hit him in the right shoulder, came out below his left waist, and must have just missed my feet.

The Fez and a Pair of Dark Glasses

On the first day of the landing we had paused at a school that had a balcony running the length of the building, on the opposite side to the beach. A low wall at the bottom closed in the balcony, and glass divided into small panes above that. Square concrete columns were evenly spaced along the wall and I was sitting on a chair obtained from the classroom behind me and I was partially behind one of the columns, looking out over the city. It was a good view. By this time I was the proud possessor of a maroon fez with a black tassel. I started to daydream, hoping I would get home for Christmas. Then I was home with my dark suntan, wearing the fez, complete with a pair of dark glasses. Suddenly, a bullet shattered one of the small panes of glass near my head but luckily none of the glass hit me. However, I had learned a lesson. Even when you are taking a break, you have to concentrate on what is going on around you.

Now as you know even soldiers have to eat, sleep and go to the toilet and this was the first time I had seen this type of toilet, which consisted of a hole in a tiled floor. On either side of the hole, the tile patterns indicated where you should place your feet, while squatting over the hole. This arrangement may have been satisfactory if you were wearing a galibya, but was totally unsuitable for the way we were dressed. Some inspired genius with foresight must surely have designed this, with the express purpose of slowing down people like us. Then another pearl of wisdom came to mind. There was something worse than getting shot in the head, getting shot in the head while trying to use one of these toilets.

My Mouth went Dry

The section, of about 11 men, was taking cover behind a low wall, from memory, just over two feet high. Behind us, somewhere, was the beach and the other side of the wall was a large open grass area. On both side of the grass area were roads leading from the beach into the city and we would eventually advance up the left hand one. In front of us, on the far side of the grass square, was the blank (no windows) end wall of the building that ran between the two roads. As I crouched behind the wall, I anticipated the next order. It would be, "When I give the order, jump over the wall, and run like mad for the cover of the blank wall of the building in front of us." The firing was coming from the roads but to my horror the order was not what I had anticipated. The actual order was, "When I give the order, climb over the wall and advance in extended line", which meant walk not run. My mouth went dry, as we were going to advance slowly across the square ahead.

Over the Wall with Fixed Bayonets

However, an order is an order. When the order was given we climbed over the wall, and with fixed bayonets walked towards the safety of the end wall of the building ahead. By some miracle we were not fired at during this time, and we eventually had the cover of the end wall.

We then moved along the wall to its left hand side ready to continue the advance up the street on that side. Firing was coming down the street in our direction, but the end wall still gave complete cover. The next move was to rush round the corner and into the first available doorway or cover there might be. You couldn't peep round the corner first, as you would most likely get a hole in the head.

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Fortunately, this time we could run not walk. The first two men dived round the corner. Immediately the firing intensified, but we had no idea if they had been quick enough or not. The next two men dived round the corner and disappeared from view, and again more shots were fired towards our corner. The next two dived round the corner with more shots in our direction.

My Turn with Jock

Now it was my turn with Jock and I thought by now they must have got their aim. I also wondered if any of our section was lying in the road round the corner, or had they all made it. Now you always have to look on the bright side and the good part was this. Jock and I decided when we would start our run, not the people up the road who were doing the shooting and this was the advantage we had. We looked at each other, and knew it was time. We dived round the corner, bullets whistled past us, but in no time we found ourselves in some flats just round the corner. We were quite pleased to find that we were still in one piece. So on with the job, street-by-street, building-by-building, and room-by-room.

I was surprised to find that opposition and organization was not as strong as I had expected. Also the accuracy of the shots fired at us left much to be desired. Sometimes the air was full of bullets, and still we did not get hit, although I know in fact that there were casualties. I often think that if I had been in a building looking towards the beach and the sea, that the butt of my rifle would have had so many notches that it would have fallen to pieces.

CDOs knocking a window in at a girls school

I also think that the objective was to secure the city, inflicting as few casualties as possible (civilian & military) and I also don't think that the Egyptians were enemies as such. Some of the Marines were of the opinion that instead we would have been better employed assisting the untrained, under equipped, Hungarians in their uprising against the Russians.

The First Night in Port Said

It had now been dark for a while. We were creeping as quietly as ghosts through some back yards. Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by a burst of Sten fire. Either somebody's weapon had gone off by mistake or, perhaps, they had incorrectly identified a stray cat as a legitimate target. Who knows? Now everybody in the surrounding area would be alerted to our presence.

Later that night we found an empty house. The object now was to stop the advance, and there was a rumour of a ceasefire. I was selected to unlock the door. Now it is always easier to explain what to do. The instructions were clear; you place the muzzle of your rifle against the keyhole of the Yale lock and then press the trigger. It is harder to do it yourself. There was a loud bang and a neat, round hole had appeared about a 1/4" away from the keyhole. Amid comments of, "Can't you even hit it at point blank range?" I gave the door a push, the door swung open, and I later found the complete back of the lock down at the far end of the corridor.

After ensuring that we were indeed the only occupants, some minor modifications were necessary to adapt it for our use. The large front window provided a reasonable view, and you could just about see anything moving in the dark. The curtains were taken down and a large table was laid on its side, close to the window. A double mattress was obtained from another room and laid in front of the top of the table. This firing position was the best that could be done but it probably would not stop a bullet. Even though we were pretty tired that night, we did not get much sleep. We heard what sounded like multiple rocket launchers. Could it be some form of counter attack? This would not be to our liking as our section was only armed with small arms. However, the night passed without incident, as the ceasefire appeared to be in place.

The Rifle, the Water Bottles and the Bodies

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The next morning I was again selected for a job. This time I had to collect all the water bottles from my section, and go for a stroll to find water and replacement ammunition. I stepped cautiously out of the front door, my rifle at the ready, and the water bottles must have been on cross straps or I would have been unable to carry them all.

A body lay in front of our window, and more bodies lay further down the street. In the distance I could make out a red Coca Cola lorry collecting bodies. On the way back it was harder going, with the water bottles full, and laden down with the replacement bandoliers of ammunition for the section. Fortunately for me the ceasefire seemed to be effective where we were.

Part II Life in Port Said...After the Ceasefire

The above-mentioned article has been compiled from extracts and photos from personal E-mails to Yahia Al Shaer,my former opponent, and now my friend. If you find anything in this article of interest, then credit is due to Yahia who overcame my reluctance to publish with his pressure, perseverance, persuasiveness, and insistence that it should be published.

Angus with his youngest daughter Katy,
and grand daughter Paige, 2002

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