| Written on Dec. 7, 1942, a few miles from Oran, Algeria: SUMMARY OF MY TRAVELS FROM NEW YORK HARBOR (9-5-42) TO ENGLAND AND THEN ALGERIA Left New York harbor on board the “Queen Mary” at about 3:00 p.m., Sept. 5, 1942 (Saturday). Landed at Gourock, Scotland, (on the River Clyde) on the night of Sept. 11, 1942; immediately boarded blacked-out train. Left train on afternoon of Sept. 12 at Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, England. Went by truck three miles out of Bury to Rougham Air Base. Left Rougham on October 5, 1942, and went to RAF Horham Station about three miles from Eye, about 8 miles from Diss, 22 from Norwich, and 20 from Ipswich. (Some day after the war maybe I can locate myself!) (About the middle of October, 1942, 60 of us flew by C-47 transport to Warrington [between Manchester and Liverpool, about 240 miles from Eye] and drove “jeeps” back.) Left Horham on Tuesday night, Nov. 22, 1942, for Liverpool, by truck & train. Went on board the Derbyshire (troop transport) & sailed two days later. Went around Northern Ireland, then south. Dec. 5th we spent most of the day anchored off Gibraltar, then sailed for Algeria. I’m writing this on the evening of Dec. 7, 1942, lying in my pup tent in a field a few miles from Oran, Algeria (where we landed today). |
Tues., Nov. 24, 1942—Left England (Liverpool harbor) on the Derbyshire (British troopship), headed for North Africa. (We had boarded the ship at least one or two days earlier.)
Thurs., Nov. 26, 1942—Thanksgiving service on Derbyshire somewhere between England and Africa.
Sun., Dec. 6, 1942—Left Gibraltar for dash to Africa. Two destroyers; two troopships.
Mon., Dec. 7, 1942—Landed near Oran, Algeria. Hiked a few miles with full field equipment. Trucks picked us up and took us to a mudhole-bivouac at Tafar-Aoui, Algeria.
Tues., Dec. 8, 1942—Rain and mud and C-rations.
| Tuesday, December 8, 1942 (Written near Oran, Algeria) ABOARD THE BRITISH TROOPSHIP, “DERBYSHIRE” When we sailed from Liverpool, England, on Nov. 24, 1942, on the “Derbyshire,” we experienced the most crowded conditions it has been our lot to meet thus far in the war. Hammocks slung so close together they touched others on every side, were our bunks. Keeping clean was impossible, and at the present writing it has been nearly two weeks since I’ve had a bath. (We landed in Algeria on Dec. 7, 1942.) Our boat was in a large convoy until we reached Gibraltar; then two destroyers, another troopship, and our own made the dash from the Rock to Algeria. One night after leaving England we ran into a storm that tossed the boat around a good deal. It seemed that half the men were vomiting all night. (I was glad that I didn’t.) A trail of “slime” led from our area to the deck—an unpleasant situation. (Note added later: During the day we slung our hammocks up high so the tables below them could be used for eating and “sitting around” purposes. The food had to be carried from the ship’s galley through the stinking latrine to the mess tables—an unappetizing experience. One day in the Mediterranean a German submarine attempted to attack our little convoy, but the two destroyers scurried around, dropped depth charges, and forced the sub to surface, where it was captured. The rumor went around the ship that one torpedo went between our ship and the one behind us, although I didn’t see it. At any rate, my evaluation of the British navy went up several points as a result of that experience.) (Also written in Algeria on 12-8-42 about an event in England) On the trip to Warrington (south of Liverpool) on Sunday, Oct. 18, 1942 (I believe), we were in rough weather, and the plane (C-47) was bumping around a lot. One of the boys got sick and was about to vomit when an old M/Sgt. asked him how he’d like a nice fat pork chop. That finished him off! A little pup (mascot of the plane) got sick and puked on one of the men asleep on the floor of the plane. That gave us a good laugh—perhaps a comment on the quality of our humor. |
| Tuesday, Dec. 8, 1942, in Algeria (near Tafar Aoui) about 24 kilometers from Oran: It poured down rain last night, and even with our pup tents we got somewhat wet. Several fellows didn’t even have tents, and they got soaked. The ground is sticky mud today, and so much of it sticks to the shoes that everyone looks as if he had snowshoes on. Natives are all over this temporary (I hope!) camp selling oranges and tangerines. I paid 50¢ for seven oranges, but they were nice, big navel oranges. Most of the natives speak both French & Spanish, and I find that I can make some use of my college Spanish. The little kids hang around, “sweating out” candy and food. One little boy stood and watched me eat hash out of a can today at dinner. His nose was running freely down to his lips. I stood it as long as I could, then gave him a piece of candy to “scram.” (I couldn’t finish the hash.) After leaving the boat (Derbyshire) two days ago, we marched through a little village; then trucks picked us up and carried us through a large town out into the country to our present bivouac area. The town had very modern buildings and roads. We were much surprised. It was interesting to see people in Arab clothing and modern clothing walking through the streets. Out here where we’re camped, the only people we see are natives (Arabs). |
Wed., Dec. 9, 1942—(Ditto)
Thurs., Dec. 10, 1942—(Ditto)
Fri., Dec. 11, 1942—Left in rain to catch train to Casablanca to join rest of Group.
Sat., Dec. 12, 1942—A slow, slow journey. Nice French girl named Violet on the train; speaks English. Very interesting to talk to.
Sun., Dec. 13, 1942—And still is slow, slow. Joined 97th Sq. this night at Mediouna, near Casablanca. With Jr. again. (He was with the part of the Group that went directly to Morocco from the States, about two months or so after the advance echelon had gone to England.)
Mon., Dec. 14, 1942—An officer found me sleeping-in today (I was tired from the trip). He said, “Corporal, what have you done for your country today?” I said, “Nothing, Sir!”. . . My first bath today in three weeks. It was a salt water shower, but wonderful!
Thurs., Dec. 24, 1942—Left Mediouna, French Morocco, by C-47 (named “Kwiturbitchin’”) in the morning. Flew by the Strait of Gibraltar down the Mediterranean. Spent Xmas Eve in hangar at Blida, Algeria. (When we had left Casablanca, our plane flew too close to Spanish Morocco, which was “neutral,” and a few warning bursts of flak were thrown up near us.)
Fri., Dec. 25, 1942—Ate Xmas dinner above the clouds between Blida and Youks. Dinner consisted of cheese and crackers. Two old-timers got air sick after telling us not to puke on them!
| Donald J. Tolle, 1988: J. Owen (“Mother”) Howard contacted me after reading the diary and asked why I hadn’t gone ahead and named the two “old-timers,” whom he identified as himself and Dick Gallup. The truth was that I didn’t remember exactly who the two were after all these years, and also I didn’t know whether they would have appreciated being labeled in that way. But J. Owen even went a step farther: He admitted that he had drunk a large quantity of the local vino (“P.D.”—”Purple Death”) the previous night (Christmas Eve) and that that was the reason for his digestive upheaval on the plane. (Dick Gallup, no doubt, had his upset stomach because of the sumptuous C-ration lunch we had in the air!) |
Sat., Dec. 26, 1942—My first bombing experience here at Youks-les-Bains, Algeria. One bomb fell fairly close. The plane was so high we never saw it.
Sun., Dec. 27, 1942—Dug down a little deeper today.