MILITARY:

In 1956, I was amongst the final age-group to be liable for compulsory National Service in the British armed forces. However, I decided to enlist for three years and, since driving had always been an ambition of mine and my father had refused to teach me how to drive, I elected to become a driver with the Royal Army Service Corps - just as (during WW2) he had done - before accepting a commission (my father - not me) with the Pioneer Corps .
 

He's shown above (wearing glasses in the centre of the front row) with a company of Spanish volunteers he commanded in various parts of northern Europe and north and west Africa. Heaven knows where the little girl came from.

For my part, little more than a dozen years later, after basic and NCO training in Aldershot (I'm in the middle of the back row below) and driver training in Yeovil, I was despatched to 12 Coy. RASC at The Dale in Chester.

First posting.

My first posting was as an ambulance driver.

Did I say posting?  Looks more like posing to me and it does seem that my arms in the right-hand photo are positioned in such a way that attention is drawn to the recently aquired chevrons on my sleeves. Anyway, the vehicle on the left is a WW2  Austin J4 and the other, although it looks like a Commer, is actually a Fordson.
 

Wartime Austin J4 ambulances.

Two WW2, Austin K2 ambulances. The one on the right is painted in desert camouflage and a similar one featured in the film, Ice Cold in Alex.


An AEC Mammoth.

This is the type of vehicle in which I took my Class 1 driving test.


Humber Super Snipe staff car.

After further specialised training at Yeovil, I became a staff-car driver. I couldn't find a photo of the actual car I drove - a Humber Super Snipe (which, by the way, was the first vehicle in which I exceeded 100 mph) . So, this is a Danish army version


Parachute course.

In 1957, in, over, and around the Aldershot area, I was one of a small number (of those who had started) who completed a grueling, ten-day, course with The Parachute Regiment before being transferred to an RAF base near Oxford. Unfortunately, however, after I had completed a single descent from a tethered balloon, the powers-that-be decided that they didn't much care for my 'aptitude' and sent me back to Chester with my tail between my legs.

In the event, that rejection proved to be a blessing in disguise because, had I passed, I may not have been able to spend the final year of my military service sunning myself on a tropical desert island in the south Pacific. A  minor drawback (some might say), however, was that a condition of going there was that it involved participating in the British nuclear testing programme.


Amphibious training course.

After a lengthy selection process and along with twelve others, I was chosen to be a coxswain of an amphibious DUKW and the photo shown above was taken during our amphibious craft training course on a very cold day in north Devon. In addition to being extensively trained on the DUKWs, we were also given the opportunity to handle some amphibious tracked vehicles (similar to the one shown below) on land and at sea.

Although we didn't become as familiar with them as we were with DUKWs, we did enough to get the hang of the controls. So far as I can remember, they consisted of two levers - like those seen on mobile cranes and JCB plant machinery. Pull the right-hand one to turn right and the left on to go left - and so on. I'm afraid, I can't recall what the foot controls were.

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A lot of our amphibious training was done in and around Bideford harbour and, also, at a stretch of beach called Westward Ho.  The army had it's own (little) navy, in those days. It was operated by RASC Water Transport companies and the vessel in the background belongs to their amphibious training unit  at Fremington.


En route to Christmas Island.

We left the UK in March, 1958, and during the first leg of the journey (from London to San Francisco), our QANTAS, Lockheed   Super Constellation stopped (presumably to refuel) in Ireland, Greenland, Newfoundland and New York.

This, by the way, is the first colour photograph I had ever taken.


Honolulu.

For the second leg of our journey (from San Francisco to Honolulu)  we flew in a United Airlines, Douglas DC7. We had been sent out from the UK in small groups and since I was in the first group, I was obliged to wait almost a week at a US Air Force base until everyone else had arrived. I was brave, though, and didn't complain.

The building above is the PX (the US equivalent of the British Naafi) at the air base. By our standards, it was unimaginably luxurious.


Home for a year.

We completed the journey to Christmas Island in an RAF Hastings aircraft and when we arrived (you can tell we were new because we were white a sheets), we had to erect the damned thing before we could sleep in it.

I'm on the right with (left to right) Spud Murphy, Jim Thompson and Barry Hands.


The RASC Tank Farm.

No, not the sort of tank which run on tracks and shoots at the enemy.

This is where fuel from the tankers moored off Port Camp is stored and, subsequently, bowsered to, for example, the RAF airfield at the other end of the island.

The three pertoleum fitters are (left to right) Spud, Jim and John Treherne (not as white as on the first day).


DUKWs at work 1.

The DUKW driver's unit was attached to the Royal Navy's base at Port Camp, HMS Resolution, and our primary role was to carry perishable foodstuffs ashore.

The advantage of DUKWs is that there was no need to double-handle the goods as we drove the DUKWs straight from the supply ship to the stores.

On this occasion, frozen meat is being loaded from RFA Fort Beaumaris.

DUKWs at work 2.

For safety reasons (breaking down near coral reefs isn't recommended) DUKWs would always operate in a group of at least two.

The provisions would be lowered into the DUKW nearest the supply ship and loaded into other DUKWs alongside it. If there were more than two, the second DUKW would be loaded first to act as a 'bridge' to the outer craft.


DUKW park.

The DUKW 'work' unit was about as close as it was possible to get to where the supply ships were anchored without getting our feet wet. The two DUKWs in the foreground are being prepared for a VIP visit. I believe it may have been The Duke of Edinburgh. He did use our 'services' at some time or another.

In the background, there has been an attempt to provide some sort of protection from the sun whilst attending to mechanical issues.


Brew time.

Those responsible for the morning brew would fill an old grease can (suitably - and, no doubt, hygenically, cleansed) with water, set off in search of some wood, douse it with fuel, put the can on top and throw a lighted match at it.

When the water boiled, a metal rod was hooked through the handle, and they returned to base where the tea was brewed and enjoyed by all.

On duty, on this occasion, were Fred Firth and Alan Gott - two proud Yorkshiremen.

HMS Narvik.

Quite often, DUKWs were the only type of craft which could negotiate the coral reefs and carry goods ashore on other islands in the South Pacific. - which were used as weather bases, for example.

To get to these islands, we were taken on HMS Narvik, a Royal Navy LST (Landing Ship Tank).


HMS Navik bow doors.

Sometimes, the DUKWs would have to enter the cargo hold through the bow doors.

A particular reason DUKWs were used to go to other islands is because their tyres could be inflated or deflated by means of levers under the driver's seat and the tyre pressure could be set to that which was appropriate for the type of surface we might be 'landing' on. The ramp into the bow doors, for example.

It wasn't easy........


Sometimes, parking wasn't easy.

In addition to trying to avoid the buoy and the anchor chain as he approaches, the DUKW driver has to time his arrival to coincide exactly with the bows of the vessel going downwards.

It's quite a tricky manoeuvre because, if you fail, the DUKW would end up underneath the ramp.


....more parking problems.

When the cargo hold was full, we were hoisted onto the deck of the Narvik.

I'm on the DUKW in this photo and had asked the photographer to make sure he 'got' my best side. I can only suppose he mis-heard me.


Gift from the DUKW drivers to HMS Narvik.

Much to the surprise of friends and family (I'm not considered to be much of a handyman) I actually made this plaque myself. It represents a DUKW being suspended (as when being hoisted aboard) beneath the badge of the RASC.


Getting ashore wasn't always easy.

Some of the islands in the Pacific were pounded by such powerful tides that the beaches were, in effect, walls. At Malden Island, there is a drop of several hundred fathoms below the rear wheels. So, whilst the driver struggles to keep the craft at a right-angle to the shore, a group of RAF chappies attach a cable to a bulldozer which tows the DUKW ashore. An accomplished driver, however, might 'catch' a wave (in much the same way as a surfer would) and use it to reach the beach without needing assistance. Modesty prevents me from revealing who 'won' the prize for most unaided landings.


DUKW beaching at Fanning Island.

With HMS Narvik anchored in the background (as is the case in the previous photo) this is a DUKW beaching at Fanning Island in the South Pacific.

Much easier than Malden Island and much more interesting (see Pacific island tours below).


A frames at Malden.

When a DUKW carried something ashore which was too heavy to be lifted by hand, we would erect frames (in the shape of the letter 'A') above the winch mechanisms at the rear of two other DUKWs. Those two DUKWs would, then, reverse up to the laden DUKW and, using the winches, raise the load and then lower it to the ground once the now unladen DUKW had driven away.


Pacific island tours.....

This photo was taken on Fanning Island and illustrates the fact that there were certain attractions which made these trips worthwhile.

Occasionally, the DUKW drivers took the islanders on a trip around their island and I wouldn't be surprised if this photo was taken at the precise moment that I realised there might be certain advantages in becoming a bus driver.


Elizabeth.

Back on Christmas Island, the ladies were rather more modestly attired.

Elizabeth was the wife of Naoki, one of the Gilbert & Ellis Islanders who worked as a stevedore at Port Camp. In return for a couple of bars of soap and some washing powder, she used to 'do' mine and my co-driver's laundry each week.

I took this photograph when we were fortunate enough (and privileged) to be invited to visit them in their village.


Naoki and friend.

This is Elizabeth's husband, Naoki (on the right with a friend) standing on the shore of Christmas Island lagoon with their village in the background.

It looks idyllic.

However, the village's latrines were located at the end of a jetty which projected into the lagoon. So, when the wind blew in a certain direction, the smell wasn't too nice.


The Verge Inn.

Imaginatively named, this was The Royal Navy's NAAFI hut at Port Camp.

Not up to USAF Honolulu PX standards, perhaps, but much appreciated nevertheless.


Port Camp cinema.

Hardly Leicester Square - but I believe we often used to see films (especially American ones) a lot sooner than when they were released in the UK.


Port Camp heads.

Sanitation may have been rather primitive - but the views were wonderful.


Recreation.

Having been a Boy Scout when younger, I was intrigued that there was a Rover Scout troop on the island. It comprised mainly of RAF personnel from Main Camp. However, two DUKW drivers from Port Camp (Barry Hands on the extreme right of the front row and myself behind him) were welcomed to their meetings.


Homeward bound.

Twice a year, a group of high-ranking RAF officers, in a Hastings aircraft, undertook an inspection tour of their bases around the world. When it left Christmas Island, there were some vacant seats and those interested were invited to apply for the opportunity of completing what amounted to a round-the-world-trip (bearing in mind it returned via Fiji, Australia, Singapore, Ceylon, Aden, North Africa and Malta).

It did mean having to stay on the island for a couple of weeks longer that everyone else - but, it was well worth the wait. The photo was taken when we stopped off at Adelaide. I'm in the middle of the front row - along with Spud Murphy (front - right) and John Treherne (rear - left) and three chaps from the Royal Engineers.

Omnibusologist, 1958.    

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In 2005, I managed to contact six out of the seven lads with whom I shared a tent on the island. Unfortunately, one had died; however, the rest of us met up for an evening at The Union Jack Club in London. Most of us (above L to R - Jim Thompson, John Treherne, Spud Murphy, Ray Chimes, Barry Hands and me) hadn't met each other for almost fifty years.

2009 Reunion.

March, 18th. 2009 was the fiftieth anniversary of 'our' group of DUKW drivers returning to The UK and, to mark the occasion, we held another reunion at The Union Jack Club. Sadly, on this occasion, two of us were unable to attend (no deaths - just minor issues with ill-health). However, we hope to arrange another get together sometime in the future.

Those who did make it are shown above (L to R - Ray, myself, Barry and Spud). The photo was taken during a 'flight' in The London Eye which was followed by a tour of the city in a DUKW. Because we were former DUKW drivers, The London Duck Company very kindly gave us complimentary tickets for the trip (see below).

In the afternoon, we visited The Imperial War Museum before returning to The Union Jack Club for dinner. Barry and Ray set off for their respective homes on Thursday morning and Spud and I did the same later in the day - but not until we enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours at  The London Transport Museum.

The photos of our reunion were kindly provided by Boc Ly, from the BBC London website, who wrote this article about our experiences.