Open Writing

We saw our neighbours and the workmen every day, and as time went by got to know each other pretty well. The Ferrando children were always around. Jean-Claude, who soon became known as 'Young Claude', was not a very friendly little boy, swarthy like his parents, and not particularly good-looking.

Marie was a quiet, pleasant girl and Suzanne was in her element with all these soldiers around to flirt with, though her flirtations were rarely, if ever, responded to. She was on the heavy side, had long black hair and wasn't too attractive.

They were a very poor family and I felt sorry for the children, especially Marie. I wrote and told my mother about them and she said she would send one of my sister's dresses, now too small for her, for Marie.

Up to now we had no tanks, but a few began to arrive at Brigade 'HQ' some miles away, and some of the gunners among us were sent to strip down and clean the guns. They were thick with mineral jelly which was pretty difficult to get rid of.

Then we started to get tanks, Shermans, in twos and threes until we were finally at full strength. We parked them on an open space alongside the French people's house.

The nearest town of any size was Blida, though there wasn't a great deal to see there. One nice thing about it was that many of the streets were lined with orange trees, and when the fruit was ripe it wasn't picked but left on the trees looking very decorative.

We were able to get to Algiers often. It was very French so far as the shops etc. were concerned, although it was populated mostly by Arabs. Some of the shops would send parcels of fruit home, and occasionally I had some sent to my parents; though when the trees in 'our' orchard bore fruit, a few oranges and lemons were never missed and some of them found their way to England. The lemons were especially welcome at home as it was impossible to get them there.
Sometimes I'd buy mushrooms, and the cook would fry them for me to eat with my breakfast. There were colourful outdoor markets - and there was the Casbah, a sleazy area, narrow streets lined with outdoor shops, and little back alleys with dubious reputations. It wasn't advisable to stray away from the main alleyway.

Ronnie and I wrote to each other and would arrange to meet in Algiers, usually at the YMCA. We'd go round the shops and to the pictures at night. There were always popular American films showing.

We were of course training all the time out in the country with the tanks. Then back at the farm there were talks, lectures and PT. I was put on a tank commander's course.

We were on guard regularly, but otherwise our evenings and weekends were free. At nights the mess-hall was turned into Las Vegas. Harold Balson and I got hold of some housey-housey cards, so we ran housey nights, number 88 incidentally being dubbed 'Rommel's Special'.

Harold gave out the cards and collected the money and I called out the numbers. When there was a shout of 'House', Harold checked the card with me, then paid out the winner. For our trouble in running the game, we naturally kept a small percentage of the takings for expenses!

A canteen was set up in the mess-room. As wine was needed, I was given the job of going into Algiers with a pick-up truck, bartering and arguing with the wine merchants, and bringing back wine for the squadron.

We also built a stage and concerts were arranged. We still had a very good band, based at 'HQ', and they would come and play. Some of the more talented members of the Regiment sang songs or told jokes, not usually for the most sensitive of ears. Topper gave accordion solos, Jock Spence, a wild Scotsman, revelled in singing 'The Road to the Isles', and after a few glasses of wine could really let it rip.

And so the weeks went by.