Part II
Life in Port Said...
After the Ceasefire
By Angus Jones
Ex 42 Commando R.M

Routine Duties

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Much of the work in Port Said after the ceasefire was fairly routine. Large amounts of arms and ammunition, much of it of Soviet origin, had to be collected and moved to secure areas. On the bases of some of the cartridges was what appeared to be a letter 'N'. However, looking more carefully, it was a mirror image of an 'N'. It must have been a letter from the Russian alphabet. I was quite surprised at how modern the semi-automatic rifles were, compared to our .303s

The ammunition looked quite toy-like compared to the .303, but was in fact quite lethal. However, during the preceding action, I would not have preferred one of the soviet rifles to the trusty, reliable, very accurate  .303. The ammunition I saved as souvenirs, I pulled the noses out, and emptied out the propellant. This was to make it easier to get the items back into the UK. Some of the noses became lost with the passage of time. See photo

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Commandos Raise the  White Ensign

In the first few days after the ceasefire we met up with other members of our unit and exchanged news of the day of the landing. This included, who had been killed in action, who had been wounded, and information on how the assault had gone. One piece of information, that I recall, was that one of the marines in an LVT had felt his legs going a bit numb in the slightly cramped conditions. When it came time for him to jump out, his legs buckled up. It was then  he discovered that he had been shot. For the benefit of the young reader, both the LCA (Landing Craft Assault), and the LVT (Landing Vehicle Tracked), are like long steel boxes with open tops and both can float on the sea. The LCA can only operate in the water. The LVT, as it's name implies, has tracks like a tank. The LVT can drive out of the sea, and then along roads.

The LVTs were very slow on land, and with our opponents shooting down from roof tops, and lobbing down grenades, the open tops of the LVTs made them totally unsuitable for operating in that environment. It is hard to imagine that anyone could have thought that the city  would be composed of single story buildings. I consider myself fortunate in not having to have ridden in one.

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As for tanks, we had a few practice rides on the tops of these in Malta. The exhausts were smelly, and you could get a nasty burn if you came into contact with them. It would be untrue to say that I enjoyed my ride. From the time that I jumped out of my LCA until the time I left Port Said, it was all running or walking. I did not manage to get a ride on anything, not even a donkey or a camel.

You might think that at this stage things were now looking better, but no, a shot rang out, and we dropped flat on the roof. A sniper was on another rooftop further away from the beach. But first things first. We had to sort out the damaged pipes, and then we could sort out the sniper. It was tricky work lying flat bandaging the pipes with the inflatable belts and remembering not to let any portion of your body get higher than the parapet. He must have thought that we were still there, as now and again bullets were hitting the parapet. He was probably puzzled as to why we not firing back. Eventually, we had completed the repairs to the best of our ability and the water from the pipes had been reduced to a trickle. Now for the sniper, but he appeared to have gone. Either he became bored, or maybe someone else became aware of our predicament and sorted out the problem for us. I will probably never know. However, he certainly made a difficult job more difficult.

Lofty Leader Repaired Pipes, While Under  Sniper Fire.

Our Denison smocks had not been washed since we landed and the saltwater had just dried on the smocks. Now there is a certain amount of inter service rivalry and we were pleased to see them, but some of the Marines could not resist whistling at these very smart soldiers. The recruit's handbook said, "Do not whistle at strange girls", but there was no mention of whistling at soldiers. In retrospect this whistling was neither appropriate, nor polite..

The prisoners were seated in a group muttering. I suggested that with two of us, we could afford to let the prisoners move a bit. In fact, if we got them to dig a hole, it would give them a bit of exercise and keep them out of mischief. Time passed and the hole in the sand got bigger and bigger.

Soon there was water in the bottom. It was obvious that this activity had gone as far as it could go. My next idea was that they could collect rubbish (empty 24 hour ration tins etc.) and put them in the hole. This worked well for a while, however one seemed to be getting rather close to me. A few more bits of rubbish and he would be close enough to tackle me. Not knowing the Arabic for "Excuse me, but you are getting too close", I clicked the bolt of my rifle. He looked up, and moved away, so he must have understood.

Eventually the help arrived, but this episode had taken up much more of my time than I had intended. However, I like to think that the Egyptians had preferred the activities provided to sitting for ages in the same place. Also, they had eaten some of the food from the ration packs so it seemed a good idea for them to help tidy up.

The square was surrounded by barbed wire, and as this was the only place in Egypt with no sand, we had used sacks full of grain to make an emplacement for the light machine gun. The local children came right up to us and we let them slit the sacks on our gun emplacement and help themselves to grain. We also gave them the sweets and hard biscuits from our 24-hour ration packs. We, of course, could not let them into the dump. In the evening we had to carry over more bags of grain and rebuild our sagging gun emplacement. We managed to find a local who was prepared to remove the damaged sacks from our emplacement.

These sacks still had a reasonable amount of grain in them and he had to pay for the privilege with loaves of bread. This was easy for him, as he was a baker.

The loaves were nice and crusty on the outside, but where the bread would normally be on the inside, was a large hollow space. I don't know if this was the way the locals liked them, or if this was the equivalent of drying out used tea bags, and trading them for something else. Whatever, the loaves were better than the dog biscuits in the 24hr. ration packs, which as I have already said, we gave to the children.

At night everything was still and quiet. The sickly sweet smell of decaying bodies drifted over from one of the damaged buildings surrounding the square and something light coloured kept moving on a balcony on another. A sniper perhaps? It was suspicious at that time of the night, but it was necessary to identify your target before opening fire, as it could be an innocent civilian. This target identification had also applied during the street fighting and house clearing of the initial assault. There was no place for trigger happy 'cowboys'. This involved going through the city street-by-street, house-by-house, and room-by-room. Every door posed a question as to what might be behind. An incorrect identification of target could mean the death of an innocent civilian and this had made the job more wearing and more dangerous. No shots were fired that night, and daylight revealed the light coloured object to be just a piece of washing hung out to dry.

It was at this location that an old lady, dressed in black clothes, had tried to take a shortcut across the square. Her clothes had tangled up on the barbed wire and she was trapped. In no time I was by her side. To free her took much longer, and with some difficulty, I at last managed to untangle her. I took her arm, gave her a reassuring look, and then helped her across the rubble littering the street. A photographer captured this moment of time, but invented his own caption, "Don't cry. The shooting is over for now". She wasn't crying. It is possible that she alone saw the photographer, and tried to hide her face behind her hand. What respectable lady would want to be photographed walking arm-in-arm, with a foreign serviceman, especially dressed the way I was. As I carefully examine this old photograph, other things come to mind. I can just make out the bayonet glinting, and the long magazine projecting out of the side. The weapon is not mine, but is a Sten gun quickly borrowed, as it would be less cumbersome.

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Glamourous  Blonde  TV Nurse Click To enlarge and see Story.

Nothing they had on offer really seemed to appeal. I did exchange some items, but more out of goodwill. In some ways they were just like us, but in other ways totally different. Their attitude to, and treatment of the locals seemed very different to that of the British Forces. They seemed a sad lot and I left feeling quite sorry for them. From the Legionnaires I had heard about a French field hospital and managed to find a French officer. I explained to him  that I had a particular interest in field hospitals and soon I had arranged with him to organize a visit. I can't remember if English cigarettes were involved, to ensure the necessary goodwill. I did not explain what my particular interest was. I had visions of glamourous nurses and wanted to survey the talent. The visit was a disappointment, as the nurses I saw were in jump suits, and nothing like their counterparts on TV. Altogether, my contact with the French, although interesting, was not very fruitful.

Jock and I were walking along a road with our rifles in the slung position (therefore our hands were not touching our weapons). The rifles were loaded, but with the safety catches on. We became aware of a mob ahead of us and this rang alarm bells, because of the recent rumour.

With this in our minds, the best course of action would have been to have made a detour round the mob as no other British troops were in sight.

Unfortunately we had been seen, so this was no longer an option. In retrospect, the best comparison, would be to a lion tamer in a cage with some lions. There may be times when he wished that he was having a coffee break instead of being in the cage, but he can't afford to let the lions see this. In our case the mob could be just as dangerous as the lions and it was necessary to maintain appearances.

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I told Jock that we would keep walking towards them with our rifles slung, but that he should slip his safety catch off. Mine by this time was already off. Soon we were at the edge of the mob but they expressed no interest in us. We were then able to establish what was going on. It was not a murderous mob, just a large crowd of people pushing and fighting one another to get close to a man, who appeared to be selling kerosene. However, this discovery did not alter the fact, that the final part of our walk had been fairly stressful. The fact that we had kept our rifles slung may have made them less concerned about our approach and arrival. Their activities were not really a security concern, so we then carried on our way.

The Norwegians were the first UN troops to arrive. This would have been about the 21st November. They looked very smart in their light blue helmets, and UN armbands and They were known to be of a very high caliber. In those days UN troops were more in the nature of observers, and there was some discussion, as to how effective they would be. We would be prepared to use our weapons to maintain order; if we were fired on we would fire back. As for the UN, troops would they rely on the fact that trouble makers would see the blue helmets and behave themselves. If the situation arose, would they hesitate to use their weapons to carry out their allotted task?

U.N. Soldier Fishing Click to enlarge

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One newspaper reported that when the Norwegians arrived that a square of British troops was thrown around their camp, and made the comment that at this stage it was not clear who was guarding who. There were also rumours that the UN forces were not totally organised, and that it was necessary to help them out with vehicles, fuel, and other things.

It is interesting to note that the day before they were due to start their joint patrols with British troops, and armed Egyptian police, the 2 I/C of the UN troops was quoted as saying, "Our soldiers will carry weapons, but it is unlikely that they will be loaded." In reply to another question, he was quoted again as, "No rules for the use of arms have yet been given."

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Many of the souvenirs of my visit are just bits of old paper, like the page from the Arabic calendar for November 6th, the day we landed.

This came from what appeared to be a sub-police station. There were also cuttings from English newspapers, and magazines, and also pages from Arabic magazines. These pages are mainly of Egyptian military topics and some seem to show a large parade. One picture intrigued me; it appeared to be Egyptian ski troops. I didn't know that Egypt had any snow, or was it some sort of secret weapon?  I found out later that they were Lebanese Mountaineers, who participated in Nasser's annual Egyptian Military Parade that took place opposite to Abdin Palace Square, in Cairo.

General Amer Click to enlarge	Major Kamal Click to enlarge	EG Revolution's Council officers Click to enlarge
Lebanese Mountaineers Click to enlarge	We ought to be able to  nationalize a salvage fleet Click to enlarge	EG Army Parade in Cairo Abdin Palace Square Click to enlarge

The magazines I exchanged with some of the locals, for some of my English ones. One of them didn't have anything to exchange, so instead he tried to teach me some Arabic phrases, which he thought I might find useful. Examples being, "Stop or I shoot", and "What is your name?"

There was some sort of small waterway near by. The masts, of what may have been a sunken patrol boat, projected out of the water. We considered diving on the wreck to see if we could find anything useful, such as binoculars. However, when we were told that there were bodies in the water, we decided to give the search a miss, on health grounds. That night, when my turn on guard was over, I lay on the ground to get some sleep. As I looked at the earth near my head it seemed to be moving. Suddenly, giant beetles, bigger than anything I had ever seen, began to erupt from the ground. My immediate thought was that even if the locals kept them as pets I did not want them as bed mates. For the rest of the night I tried to sleep balancing on top of a low, narrow wall and I was quite pleased when morning came.

A concert was put on at the Port Said Stadium by entertainers from the UK. It was called "It's a Great Day". It certainly was a great success. The good thing about it for the underpaid National Servicemen was that it was free. I am sure that some of the locals would have enjoyed it also, but for security reasons, it was not possible to extend a general invitation.

They had become familiar with the Marines. The UN troops were an unknown factor. It is possible that some of the residents did not want 42 to withdraw too quickly. 42 Cdo  had the will and the capacity to provide protection. When the UN troops finally relieved us of our responsibility, we hoped that everything would proceed smoothly for the residents, who had got used to us over the previous three weeks.

In a scruffy area, an old lady held out a bony hand. Inside I shuddered at the thought of fleas, but managed a smile as I gave her my hand. This taught me that you can reassure people with a touch and make them less afraid. Also in the search I found some very fancy lingerie, which I held up and smiled at the blushing, pretty owner. Afterwards, I was sorry that I had embarrassed her. The locals were very astute when it came to trading, but even so, I had managed to accumulate enough money to buy my first wristwatch (if I could get it duty free in Malta).

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We boarded the aircraft carrier HMS Ocean. Then it was loading and stowing boxes of ammunition. The boxes were heavy and the sun blazed down. At the time, there seemed to be enough  boxes of small arms ammunition to have fought our way to Cape Town. We could not remove our shirts, as we would have been badly sun burnt. A bonus was that one of my best friends, Brian Tong, was a sea service marine, and a member of the crew. He had been a squad mate in 889 (NS) Squad. Finally the ship sailed and the padre distributed a message concerning those who had been killed in action.

Brian Tong Click to enlarge

Padre's  message Click to enlarge

Our unit of about 600 men had only lost 6 men. Of these, my troop of about 50 men ('Y' Troop), had lost 2 men, but for the families concerned even one is too many. Both of these men were regular Marines, and both good friends of mine. I still have a photo of Dave Howard, resting on his bed at Mtarfa and on his bedside locker, can clearly be seen a photo of a pretty girl. The other one, Brian (Arty) Short, had been lying by my side on the sand when we were under the beach huts. Although the Padre's message seemed to suggest that our men would be left behind, it was my personal opinion that would not be the case.

As we sailed into Plymouth, the men lined the ship's deck and the local people gave us a rousing welcome. Even if the rest of the country may not have shown much interest, the people of Plymouth always have a good welcome when a Royal Navy ship comes home.

It gave the following information. I have now moved out of my barracks. I am on board an RN ship. There are no shops on board. It is difficult to post parcels, and even my letters may be delayed. There is trouble in Egypt. I will be involved in an amphibious landing with my comrades. It will be like Guy Fawkes Day. I have lost my St. Christopher Medallion. I will be in some danger. This will be immediate.

That was the information, but the problem was to reword it so that it would get through the naval censor, as we were now on active service. Look at how the letter was finally worded. The letter is not in my usual style, and appears to be a lot of rubbish. The naval censor couldn't have seen anything wrong with it, for it arrived home intact. Read the letter in it's final form as sent, and see if you can find all the above information hidden in it. Click here to read letter
 

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My family were able to do this. My elder brother Jimmy ,Ex RN, would have been able to tell that I was on a RN ship because of the reference to 'tots' (rum issue). I only go paddling now and again, but never alone (amphibious landing), would let him assume that the ship was possibly an LST (Landing Ship Tank). They would then look back at the blank space following Communion. The words preceding the missing word are not "at the" or "in the", as would be expected, but are "on the". Hence, the missing word could be deck or ship. Some extra sentences were put in for padding to draw attention away from the parts that concealed information.

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I changed into civilian clothes and went to a pub.  for a drink. Someone, who had engaged me in conversation, looked closely at my very dark suntanned complexion and made the observation that I spoke very good English.  It should be noted that I was not wearing my fez or dark glasses. I have not seen England now for 40 years, but I understand that it is now very multicultural. An Englishman today would probably not understand the significance of that observation.

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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.....