There were many sights and customs that were new and strange to us. Ricksha boys dressed in elaborate garb of feathers and horns who would deliver a kick like a horse to a bell underneath the rickshaw to attract attention. It was incredible the way they could balance themselves against the weight of their passengers on downward slopes and take enormous strides. We wondered how they were going to stop when traffic lights turned against them. It was strange to see bare-breasted Zulu women with babies tied to their backs window shopping in the centre of the city.

Merv. Holland had his nineteenth birthday while we were in Durban and four of us dined out for a total price of 16/- ($1. 60). One day, Merv. and I were trying to make a date with two attractive Afrikaner shop assistants. It got us a little annoyed when they frequently talked to each other in Afrikaans and giggled. I thought of a plan and said to Merv, "Wangaratta Mallacoota Yarrawonga" . Merv cottoned on immediately and being South Australian replied, "Onkaparinga Malala" and laughed uproariously at his effort. The girls got annoyed when we declined to translate what we had said and the conversation was terminated by mutual agreement leaving two girls amazed to know that Australia had its own language too.

We were a little frustrated by our inability to see African wildlife in its natural habitat, as we were not permitted to venture far from Durban. We were told however that wild monkeys could be seen if we took a tram to Burman Drive. At the terminus, there were some fairly rugged hills covered by thick under growth. We thrashed our way through this for half an hour or so without any success. We were still dressed in our heavy blue winter uniforms and the heat and humidity had us all in a lather of perspiration so we decided to call it a day. As we returned to the tram terminus, a family of monkeys was playing happily in the middle of the street.

After eight days in camp, orders came for us to re-embark on the Nieuw Amsterdam and I was delighted that we were returned to the same cabins which we had occupied previously. After settling back in to our quarters, we went up on deck to watch proceedings on the wharf. A succession of trains arrived carrying more passengers for the troop ship. There were Tommies from the British army returning from service in India; there were Italian prisoners of war; there were Cape Coloured servicemen; and there was a train load of six hundred Polish women who had endured unbelievable hardships over the previous three years.

Having left Australia with about 2,000 R. A. A. F. personnel, the Nieuw Amsterdam was now carrying over 8,000 troops.

Troop Deck Accommodation.

It now required eight sittings to cater for everyone each mealtime. As we left Durban, the lady in white was at her post on the end of the breakwater singing to the departing ship. A day or so later, we berthed at Capetown but we had to be content to see what we could from the deck of the ship as no leave was allowed. It is certainly an impressive setting for a city with Table Mountain as a backdrop - the famous 'tablecloth' draping the mountain for most of the time we were there.

Apart from admiring the view, we watched native porters loading stores through a small door low in the ship's side. They carried cardboard carton after carton aboard and there was much speculation as to what they contained. This question was answered when one porter dropped his load and sausages scattered over the wharf. The unfortunate man received a number of resounding smacks across the face from his foreman for his carelessness. It was strange to see a grown man just stand and take such punishment without any attempt to protect himself or to retaliate. He and some of his mates swept the sausages together with their hands, loaded them back into the carton and duly delivered them on board. We all made a mental note not to eat sausages on the rest of the voyage.

After leaving Capetown, a number of us were assigned to gun watch. The Nieuw Amsterdam carried a six inch gun on its stern. We were assigned to anti-aircraft guns mounted on the superstructure of the ship. When we completed our radio school, we were told that, as qualified radio operators, we were supposed to be able to operate any radio equipment we came across. This same principle was apparently applied to gunners because we were given no instruction on how to use the guns, or even how to communicate with the bridge if we saw anything suspicious but we were now well disciplined airmen and did as we were told without question.

 

The Atlantic.

As the ship headed out into the Atlantic, we resumed the shipboard life to which we had become accustomed except that it was now much more crowded. It was not long before the canteen started to run short of supplies but not before I bought half a dozen large blocks of chocolate which was in short supply in Britain. Our resolve not to eat sausages soon evaporated, as the increasingly meagre meals were almost always sausages. There were so many mouths to feed that there were eight sittings for each meal.

The troops started assembling at the doors into the dining hall as soon as the previous sitting had been admitted. The meals had become inadequate for healthy young appetites. Each table sat sixteen a side and a container holding thirty two rolls was placed in the middle. As the rations got tighter, a race developed to get to a table first and grab a couple of rolls and to hell with the slowest who missed out. Another disadvantage was that those who were forced to sit in the middle were forever passing things like salt and pepper backwards and forwards. Consequently, as the time for our sitting approached there was jockeying for position near the entrance doors. I found to my cost that it was not wise to be near the outside as I was crushed against the doorpost and thought I was going to get a couple of cracked ribs. The whole situation was not to anyone's credit but it served to demonstrate what hunger will do to people.

One night on gun watch I saw in the moonlight what looked like a post sticking up out of the water. I thought, "My God, it might be a U-boat". It was visible for only half a second in the beam of light from the moon on the water and I did not have time to confirm what it was. At first, I thought it might be a pile of some kind. I was on my own and there was no-one to talk to about it. If it was a submarine, it may have been a friendly one anyway. "There couldn’t be a pile way out here", I thought but surely someone else would see it too. I simply did not know what I should do in the circumstances. I half expected a torpedo to smash into the side of the ship and it must have been half an hour before I could breathe easy again. I felt ashamed of my inadequacy with 8,000 people relying on the vigilance of those of us on watch and I decided to keep the incident to myself.

(Decades later, I learned that the only physical contact between Germany and Japan at that period of the war was by means of giant submarines. One was sunk in the Atlantic about that time. If the object was such a submarine, neither vessel would have been interested in attacking the other.)

A break in the usual routine occurred on the day of the "Crossing the line" ceremony. The advent of air travel has almost wiped out this tradition of King Neptune and his helpers coming aboard to initiate travelers crossing the equator for the first time. There was a lot of fooling about like mock shaving and dunking in the swimming pool which was filled for the occasion. The highlight was when an enterprising gang commandeered a high pressure hose and caught officers and several female passengers who were leaning over the rail of an upper deck watching the antics below in a well executed attack from the rear.

Crossing the line.

A day or so later, the ship was sailing over a sea so flat that it was unbelievable. It was like glass - without a ripple of any kind disturbing the surface except for the wake of the ship. The shining sea and the cloudless sky seemed to merge so that the ship seemed to be suspended in space. The bow waves diverged evenly behind until, seemingly half a mile astern they broke in an exact match. We were in the doldrums off the coast of West Africa. We anchored off Freetown, Sierra Leone, known as 'the white man's grave'. This was where the Italian prisoners of war were disembarked by means of lighters. The Nieuw Amsterdam was soon surrounded by natives in 'bumboats' trying to sell all manner of things such as fruit and locally made trinkets. One magnificent specimen wearing not one stitch of clothing was soon nicknamed "Sunshine" because he kept singing the well-known song of that name. When he learned that there were Australians aboard, he astonished us by inquiring about Young and Jacksons and whether Chloe was still there. It turned out that he had been a steward aboard a ship but presumably thought that life in Sierra Leone was safer while there was a war on.

Once again, the Nieuw Amsterdam set sail in what seemed to be a north-westerly direction. Perhaps it was because the nights were getting longer and colder but the rations appeared to be getting shorter. Someone apparently heard about the blocks of chocolate, which I had purchased soon after leaving Capetown and offered me four times what I had paid for it. I declined the offer as I was already using them to allay the pangs of hunger. Long before we reached our destination, I had eaten the lot.

I never did find out the cause but one day those of us on gun duty were given extra duties. We think one of our number must have remonstrated with an officer about some of the grievances we had. The extra duties proved to be to carry cases of oranges from deep in the hold up several decks to the galley. There was nearly a riot when we stepped into the galley to be confronted by dozens of trays of roast chickens ready to be served to the officers.

With the pitching and tossing of the ship and other reasons, it was inevitable that one or two cases of oranges got broken and rather than see the contents rolling around the deck, it seemed reasonable to stick them in our tunics - but one of the Dutch ships officers was not very reasonable and a scuffle broke out when he tried to reclaim these oranges. It was a very serious situation for physical action against an officer at sea in wartime to take place but fortunately we heard no more about it. We did get to keep the oranges.

The navigators among us estimated that we were within one day's sailing from the coast of North America when the ship changed course in an easterly direction. Several days later, we awoke to find ourselves sailing up an estuary between low hills with patches of snow on the tops. A Scottish soldier standing near me was singing "Sailing up the Clyde" softly to himself so identifying just where we were. He was returning home after a stint of eight years in the British Army in India. The ship dropped anchor off Greenock and the task of disembarking the large number of troops aboard by lighter began. At last our turn came and as we drew away from the Nieuw Amsterdam we saw for the first time what a fine looking ship she was. Our previous views of her had been so close up that it was not possible to see her graceful lines.