A Time to Live

By G. K. Robinson

1936. Clouds are looming over Europe. Uncertainty hangs in the air. It's been less than 20 years since The Great War and there's talk of still darker times ahead.
A young Englishman caught in the middle of the Italo-Abyssinian War joins up with the Red Cross Humanitarian Ambulance Team to do what he can to help in the war effort, and forges bonds that will carry with him through the darkest days of Spanish Civil War and beyond. Bonds that will stay forged for the rest of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: May 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781786930262

G. K. Robinson

Educated in Australia and England, the author started travelling the world as a young man and essentially never stopped. He has served in the Royal Navy and the Merchant Marine prior to his long-time career as an accountant in the field of international telecommunications. He has lived and worked in every corner of the globe. Whilst none of his books are autobiographical, they reflect his deep understanding of human nature and frailty.

Book preview

About the Author

The author is a mature person.

Educated in Australia and England.

Served his country in the Royal Navy.

For many years employed by a large American Conglomerate in a senior capacity in various countries throughout the world giving him a wealth of experience to draw upon.

None of his novels are autobiographical.

A man who has had a long happy marriage and family life.

G. K. Robinson

A Time to Live

Copyright © G. K. Robinson (2017)

The right of G. K. Robinson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978-1-78693-024-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-78693-025-5 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-78693-026-2 (E-Book)

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First Published (2017)

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CHAPTER 1

The year was 1936, the month February; with the world only slowly recovering from the economic depression which had started at the beginning of the decade. The global conflict of twenty years before, referred to as ‘The Great War’ was still fresh in the minds of many.

Yet events were happening indicating a new world conflict was not that far away. In Germany, Chancellor Adolf Hitler the previous year, 1935, had presented demands to the British Foreign Secretary. If they had been accepted, they would have largely rendered the Versailles Treaty signed after ‘The Great War’ to restrict German re-armament null and void. In early 1935 the Italian dictator Benito Mussolini had abandoned any attempt to find a peaceful solution to a border dispute with Abyssinia. The Far East was in turmoil; Japan had successfully invaded Manchuria and was casting eyes on the rest of China, making more demands.

The future at the start of 1936 filled most Western people’s minds with unease and uncertainty, the older generation with horrors of ‘The Great War’ still fresh, and the young adults knowing that theirs was the generation which would bear the brunt of any fighting.

On the French S.S. Hermes, Paul Grant leaned against the Promenade Deck rail, bracing himself against the slight roll as the ship moved beam-on through the heavy swells of the Indian Ocean. The vessel running north along the coast of Africa towards the Red Sea. He was enjoying the warm February sun as the ship seven days out of Durban neared the Equator. The ship was a French owned and registered cargo passenger vessel travelling from French Indo China via Singapore, Durban, Djibouti, Malta, and Marseilles, ending the voyage at its home port of Brest.

He thought from what the Chief Officer had said last night they had about six more days to go before the ship entered the Red Sea and called in at Djibouti in French Somaliland. The Chief Officer also mentioned the vessel would be in port for about two days only. Just enough time to drop a small amount of cargo and disembark some twenty of the thirty or so passengers on board destined for there and load a small amount of cargo for Marseille along with the families of some French nationals fleeing from the war in Abyssinia

The war in Abyssinia had been going on since the previous October. Italy after a series of manipulated frontier clashes had brutally attacked the almost defenceless Abyssinians on the pretext of Abyssinian aggression, whilst totally ignoring the League of Nations call for restraint and arbitration.

As had been predicted by most military experts, the Italian Army by the use of its superior weaponry was close to bringing the war to their forecasted victory. There were rumours that the Italians had used poison gas in some places in flagrant breach of the Geneva Convention.

When Paul had left Johannesburg two weeks previously, in mid February, the last news he had heard was an unconfirmed report that the Italian Army were nearing Addis Abba, the capital, and the Emperor was moving his headquarters to the north west. That news hadn’t been confirmed by the little he’d heard about the war since he’d been on board, which was only occasionally when he had talked to the Wireless Officer and it didn’t seem to bear out that report.

Basking in the sunshine he let his mind wander over the past couple of years or so and the events leading to where he was now. After graduating in Mechanical Engineering from Sheffield University he had difficulty in finding employment. His family farmed around three hundred acres near Malton in Yorkshire; he was not interested in farming like his elder brother, and had always wanted to dabble in things mechanical hence his going up to university to study engineering. Unfortunately, he left with a degree at a time of the worst depression in the country’s history with over three million unemployed, roughly a quarter of the work force. He eventually managed, through a contact of his father to get employment as Junior Engineer on a tramp steamer out of Hull. He had never envisaged being a sailor but it was better than nothing.

The vessel was old, built in 1905 before The Great War, an old coal burner with all the attendant discomforts. Every time the vessel filled her coal bunkers refuelling, the whole ship was covered in coal dust inside and out. On numerous times the engines failed and the owners refused to spend much money, getting her patched up each time at the next port following the running repairs by the engine room staff at sea.

They mainly sailed between South Africa and the Middle East, as far north as Turkey and east in the Mediterranean to Greece with an occasional trip to the Far East picking up cargoes where they could.

The engines finally reached a stage where the Cape Town Harbour Authorities refused to issue a Seaworthy Certificate; the owners refused to spend money to make her meet the requirements and offered her up to the Japanese for scrap. The crew had been discharged, paid off and given Steerage Class tickets on a Union Castle Mail steamer back to UK.

Whilst waiting in Cape Town for the owners to make up their minds, Paul had contacted several engineering companies looking for work. He eventually was offered a trial position as an Irrigation Engineer with a Johannesburg based company but in their Cape Town operation. He took his repatriation ticket in cash and went to work for them. After orientation and familiarisation of the equipment by the company he was mainly employed in the wine growing district of the Cape Province in places like Paarl and Stellenbosch. He did well and was transferred in February 1935 to their main operation near Johannesburg, located at Krugersdorp about 25 miles northwest Johannesburg.

The mainstay of their irrigation systems was a pump, manufactured in England by a company called Potable Water Pumps Limited of St. Helens, Lancashire. Whilst in Johannesburg he met William Clifford, Regional Director for PWP and Edward White, PWP Technical Representative, both men covered South and East Africa along with the Middle East. The area covered was vast and the potential for pumps couldn’t be fully exploited. William Clifford eventually persuaded his Head Office in St. Helens to split the area in to three sections and give him another Technical Representative to cover one of the sections whilst Edward White covered the second and he covered the third.

He had been quite impressed by this young Englishman, and one evening in late November 1935, over a beer had mentioned the possible opening. The snag was, although William Clifford could recommend a candidate, the final selection would be by the Head Office. Therefore, for Paul to be considered he needed to go back to England at his own expense for an interview, if appointed would be trained in St. Helens and sent back out. After giving the proposition some thought, Paul decided to give it a try.

Hence he being on this French ship travelling back to England, intending to leave the vessel in Marseilles, the ship would continue on from there to Brest. He would go overland to Calais by rail, crossing the Channel by ferry.

The French ship had been the cheapest fare he could find although it was considerably slower than one of the Union Castle Royal Mail steamers. The vessel was a cargo passenger steamer and therefore instead of as with the Mail steamers taking about sixteen days from Cape Town to England, this French vessel was taking twenty-eight days to Marseille. Then he had two days more across France and the Channel from Marseille to get to St. Helens.

At first the time scale worried him but William Clifford had put his mind at rest by saying the St. Helens people didn’t expect him there much before the middle of April. He also said he would put Paul’s travel details in a cable and send them back so that there could be no misunderstanding about his time of arrival.

The other passengers on the ship seemed to be an odd lot. There were just over thirty all told, of these twenty were leaving at Djibouti, in French Somaliland. This twenty, he thought, were a group of mainly South African medical personnel travelling under the auspices of the Red Cross in Geneva. About five doctors, four male, one female, five female nurses, six male nurses or attendants with four drivers. Their equipment, vehicles, field ambulances were down in the hold and would be unloaded at Djibouti onto the jetty. At Djibouti there was only one small ramshackle jetty, most ships unloading into barges out in the middle of the port. Paul found out in talking to some of them that they were going to Abyssinia to set up a field hospital for the treatment of civilians, the casualties from the indiscriminate bombing by the Italians. About half of them were South Africans, two of the male doctors were American and the female doctor was also an American. The senior female nurse was an American, the other female nurses from parts of Africa and the drivers were all South African. The drivers recruited in South Africa deliberately because of their experience in driving in rough country, the rest of the personnel were English or of English extraction born in either Kenya or Uganda or some other African part of the British Empire and experienced in the area. Paul had gleaned most of this information from talking with the senior doctor, Bob Gilrane, a man of about fifty years old, who had served with the U.S. Army Medical Services during The Great War in France. The rest of the medical team including the female nurses were in their twenties or early thirties. The drivers were slightly older, possibly late thirties, experienced in bush driving.

Bob Gilrane had told him that the American Red Cross financed the whole project from money raised in America from philanthropists sympathetic to the Abyssinian cause. The project being under the auspices of the International Red Cross in Geneva meant Geneva was responsible for the political clearances required. He and the other Doctors, including the woman, Kathleen Deegan were giving their services free and had committed themselves for about a twelve-month period from the time they arrived in the country. All the doctors, although one was English, one South African and the senior nurse had been recruited the previous August in America, when it had looked as if Italy would attack Abyssinia. They then moved across to South Africa to finalise the recruiting on the advice of the South African doctor to obtain other personnel wise in the ways of the continent.

They had been held up in South Africa, trying to first get clearance to go to Abyssinia from all the authorities, French, English, Abyssinian, and secondly to find an appropriate vessel capable of handling their equipment which had proved the most difficult part.

The remaining passengers consisted of a French family of four travelling back to France from Indo-China, an English couple returning from a visit to their son and daughter in law in Durban and four young men about the same age as himself allegedly travelling to Europe on a sightseeing visit. These men claimed to be South African although to Paul they sounded distinctly German when they spoke amongst themselves and their English was poor, their French no better. Paul who didn’t have a foreign language except some schoolboy French felt at a disadvantage when they talked amongst themselves wishing he had some German. They appeared to have a leader, they were almost like a military group, and as such the man they called Carl appeared to give the orders.

Paul moved from the rail and crossed to the port side of the ship along the front of the passenger accommodation and looked out towards the land. They should be just passing Mombasa on the Kenyan coast but nothing could be seen, they must be well out to sea. Another day would bring them along the coast of Italian Somaliland and with the war in Abyssinia he felt sure the captain would stay well off the coast. Leaning on the rail and looking aft, slightly to port, in the distance he could make out a smudge of smoke on the horizon, another vessel. Not surprising, this was a busy coast and shipping lane particularly for cargo boats out of Durban and other east coast ports of Africa, all using the Suez Canal to get to the Mediterranean and Europe.

It was shortly before lunch and he thought he might go and get himself a beer. The passenger accommodation was all on the upper deck and entered from off the deck by a large teak sliding door on either side. On entering, first there was a large foyer with passageways on either side leading towards the aft of the ship from which the passenger cabins were off on either outboard side. Between the two passageways in the centre of the vessel were the bathrooms, lavatories, a drying room for clothes, stewards’ pantries. Forward from the foyer were a pleasant lounge or saloon as it was called and a separate small bar. The dining room was reached by going down some stairs off the foyer one deck.

As he walked towards the teak door leading into the accommodation he met the radio operator who handed him a cablegram. Opening the envelope, he saw it was a fairly long one and wondered who he knew would be sending him a message. He glanced at the end first and saw that it was from Potable Water Pumps, a Bruce Selby-Evans, Managing Director.

He was more than a little surprised when he read the message:

PAUL GRANT SS HERMES CAN YOU LEAVE SHIP DJIBOUTI AND PROCEED SOONEST TO ADDIS ABABA STOP REP EDWARD WHITE MISSING STOP

CONTACT LOCAL MAN KASSA ON ARRIVAL ADDIS STOP EMBASSY NO NEWS STOP IF REPLY AFFIRMATIVE ON PAY ROLL AND ALL EXPENSES FROM NOW STOP WILLIAM CLIFFORD UNABLE TO GO ILLNESS STOP RETURN VIA DJIBOUTI ADEN AND MAIL STEAMER TO SUEZ THEN TO CAIRO TO MEET CLIFFORD STOP

REPLY SOONEST STOP BRUCE SELBY-EVANS MANAGING DIRECTOR POTABLE WATER PUMPS LIMITED

Before sending a reply, Paul thought he ought to go and look for the Purser to see if he could disembark from the ship when they arrived at Djibouti. He doubted whether he would be able to arrange it at such a short notice but he could try; the visa requirements might defeat him.

He put it to the Purser and showed him the cablegram he had received. The Purser thought he would be able to arrange something with the authorities, they often have requests like that but the refund of the remainder of the passage monies would have to be taken up with the Head Office of the shipping line in Brest. The doubtful part would be whether Paul would be able to get across the frontier between French Somaliland and Abyssinia with the war going on; although newspaper reporters seemed to be able to do it. The railway from Djibouti to Addis Ababa had ceased running to any sort of a timetable as soon as the war started but it did run intermittently. If he did run in to trouble at the Frontier he should try and get through by going to Berbera in British Somaliland, then by road, he may have better luck there.

Paul went up to the Radio Office, close behind the bridge and sent a message to PWP agreeing to the arrangements and warning them he might have to go via British Somaliland.

Carl Zuicher, Oberleutnant in the Wehrmacht sitting in his cabin, was also thinking about the events which had led him to take passage on this French vessel. He had been appointed in October 1935 to the newly formed Wehrmacht Armoured Force under Oberst Guderian as the Oberst’s Personal Assistant. The German Army under the 1919 Versailles Treaty had not been permitted to have tanks. In 1928 Germany had secretly started to design and experiment with prototypes.

The German Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler by 1934 had started to re-arm Germany in defiance of the Treaty. By 1935 the first German PzKw 1A tanks had begun to come off the production lines and in an arrangement with the Italian dictator Mussolini, 25 had been supplied to the Italian Army in August of that year, along with prototypes of the Volkswagen Kubel all-terrain vehicle and some items of small arms. These were being tested by the Italian Army in the Abyssinian Campaign. Previously the testing had been done on a Soviet Russian testing ground out of Moscow. This had ceased because of the strained relations between Russia and Germany over the Spanish situation, the Russians backing the Communists and Hitler the Spanish army Generals.

Oberst Guderian had commissioned him to secretly go to Abyssinia to evaluate the performance of the weapons. Secretly because of the criticism from other countries regarding the suspected re-armament of Germany and the progress being made. He and his party had travelled by Hamburg-Lloyd steamer to Cape Town from Bremen and then intending to enter Abyssinia via Djibouti rather than have the Italian Army provide transport and draw attention to their mission and the fact that Germany had started to produce tanks. He wondered if the contact he was to make in Djibouti would have carried out his instructions properly, you could never tell with these Frenchmen, they may find when they got there that the man had not provided decent vehicles. He thought that they might be able to cross into Abyssinia without raising too much attention. The other passengers leaving, the medical contingent would generate a far greater amount of interest than four males.

Noon, the next day found the Hermes just north of Mogadishu, the capital and main port of Italian Somaliland. At midday Paul was enjoying a cold beer in the small bar when the ship seemed to be slowing down and then eventually stopped. Paul along with the other passengers went out on the Promenade Deck on the port side and saw that a naval vessel, it looked like a destroyer stationary about a quarter of a mile from their ship. A small motor launch was moving towards them from the naval vessel. Crew members were lowering an accommodation ladder; Paul went across to the French officer supervising the operation and asked what was happening. The officer said that the vessel they could see was an Italian destroyer which had been following them for the last two days; which was possibly the smoke Paul had seen the day before. The destroyer had rapidly gained on them that morning and had flashed them to stop and was now for some reason sending a boarding party across.

The motor launch pulled alongside the ladder and an officer with a revolver in his belt and two ratings armed with rifles came up the ladder, the launch then lying off a little, heaving in the Indian Ocean swell. The French officer met the party at the top and guided them inside and up the stairs in the direction of the bridge.

The passengers all talking between themselves and wondering what it was all about. After about half an hour the Purser came down from the direction of the bridge and asked all passengers to attend the saloon bringing their personal identity documents, such as passports with them and be prepared to answer the questions from the Italian officer who would be there.

Paul was one of the first and the Italian officer asked where he boarded the ship, where was he going. For some reason he couldn’t fathom Paul decided he would stick with his original story of going to England via Marseilles thinking that the Addis Ababa visit would only cloud the issue. Obviously the Purser hadn’t said anything and Paul was cleared. The Italian officer was a little perfumed fop full of self-importance, his English not very good. As Paul was stood outside he listened to him shouting at the English couple who hadn’t understood his question at first.

The four German/South Africans followed the English couple and the Italian looked at their passports, the one called Carl lent on the table and put his face close to the Italian and speaking very, very quietly was obviously giving him some confidential information he wanted kept between the two of them. The Italian only had a cursory glance at their passports and handed them back immediately. The party moved off and out of the saloon in the direction of their cabins, looking neither left nor right at any of the other passengers. The ambulance party were taken as one group and the Italian officer questioned them for a long time. He kept their passports and motioned for them to take a seat in the saloon. The rest of the passengers seemed to pass inspection.

The Purser came out of the saloon and as he passed Paul, Paul asked him why the Italian Navy was allowed to question people going about their legitimate business on the high seas on a French vessel. The Purser just gave a Gallic shrug and in his poor English said there was an Italian embargo on arms to Abyssinia.

The Italian officer walked back out onto the deck, leaving the two ratings to guard the ambulance team and waved his motor launch over, went down the ladder and getting in set off back to his vessel. After about half an hour he came back and went again onto the bridge, the ship started engines and fell in line behind the destroyer moving off in a south west direction; Paul guessed towards Mogadishu but wondered why.

In the late afternoon land came into sight on the horizon. Low lying, a brown smudge with white splodges, presumably buildings every now and again as they moved slowly down towards the south. Eventually stopping off in a bay with a half moon background of white houses, the bay crammed with warships and what Paul presumed to be troop transports and this must be Mogadishu. There was no harbour as such, it was a bay protected from the northwest by an arm of a breakwater running out from the tip of the northern headland. There didn’t seem to be any quaysides or jetties, any unloading must have to be done into lighters. As they dropped anchor in the middle of the bay a launch came towards them with a group of uniformed personnel who boarded the Hermes and walked self-importantly into the saloon. A contingent of armed sailors also boarded and shepherded the passengers away from the saloon, a fussy little Italian naval officer then sent them all back to their cabins. The German/South African group refused to go, with their leader standing very erect, hands behind his back and he spoke in reasonable Italian in an imperious manner to the little Italian officer.

The Italian officer looked at first as if he might call on his armed men, thought better of it and walked off leaving the German, Carl victor of the field. The group all laughed and walked out onto the deck. Paul who watched this pantomime from the passage outside his cabin more convinced than ever that this group were from the German military.

The South African ambulance group were given instructions to pack and be ready to leave the vessel that evening, their transport vehicles would be off loaded here in Mogadishu, most likely in the morning. Passengers were then allowed out of their cabins providing they did not go on deck but were also allowed in the little bar prior to dinner. Paul talked to one of the ambulance doctors who said they were being taken off and he thought put to work tending the Italian wounded from the campaign as well as civilians. The senior medical officer of the group had demanded to be given the facility to call or cable the Red Cross in Geneva to protest. The Italian military said they would think about it.

The Red Cross team went back to their cabins and started to pack and had been told to put their packed luggage in the corridor outside their cabins. Kathleen Deegan, the female doctor with the team popped her head around the door of Anne Hutchins, the Head Nurse’s cabin and asked what she thought they ought to wear. Anne said she thought that all the females in the party should wear khaki slacks, a blouse, with bush jacket over the top Kathleen agreed saying, Don’t forget we shall be amongst the brutal soldiery. Kathleen went back into her cabin and started to pack rapidly, wondering as she did where they would all end up.

Following her two years’ internship at St. Vincent’s Hospital in New York she then had a year as Registrar in the Burns Unit, regularly assisting the Consultant specialist in this field and one year as general locum in and around New York City. She volunteered to go on this mission after she had been approached by Bob Gilrane and asked if she would like an interesting assignment for twelve months, when she asked where and how, he explained the Red Cross Unit he was putting together. The drawback being that there wouldn’t be any pay, all else would be found. She received a small income from a Trust fund; enough to live on providing she didn’t indulge in champagne tastes. This had been left to her by her father, a doctor who had been killed in The Great War.

Her mother was still alive, living in a small mid-west town in the Ohio Valley whom she saw reasonable frequently and whom when she went back and discussed the offer, gave her blessing saying that her father would have been proud of her. She returned to New York and telephoned Bob Gilrane agreeing to be available when he wanted her to join.

The idea of having to tend Italian wounded when their mission was supposed to be one of mercy to the civilians didn’t go down well with either her or the rest of the team. But at the moment they were at the mercy of the Italians until Bob clarified with Geneva, if the Italians would let him.

When Paul asked the Purser, he couldn’t give a time when the ship would continue on its journey, and the Purser said it could be there for another few days whilst it was searched for what the Italians called contraband. In any event the unloading of the medical equipment into lighters was going to take the best part of a day.

In view of the cable Paul had received the thought crossed his mind that he might be better trying to get in to British Somaliland. Berbera the capital was about 700 miles away if he could find transport and if the Italian Authorities would allow him to disembark. He went off to find the Italian naval officer who appeared to be in charge, finding him eventually in the Purser’s office talking to the Purser whilst examining some of the ship’s cargo manifests.

The officer looked imperiously at Paul when he appeared and when Paul tried to explain he wished to leave the vessel here at Mogadishu and travel to Berbera in British Somaliland the officer seemed to misunderstand him.

Now the officer’s English was not good, the Purser’s was a little better but not fluent by any means and he didn’t have any Italian, the officer appeared to think Paul was one of the ambulance team who didn’t wish to disembark and was threatening him with the British Authorities in Berbera, shouted at him to go and pack and be ready to leave when called. The French Purser didn’t help matters by trying to intervene and talked about Paul wanting to leave at Djibouti, between the two of them and Paul, each explaining in his own language exactly what Paul wanted to do, the Italian got totally confused and flew into a rage screaming at Paul to go and pack and be ready to leave otherwise he would have him forcibly removed from the ship

Paul looked at the Purser who gave his usual Gallic shrug, so off he went to pack. He thought at least I’ll get off the ship and play it by ear. The worst they can do is put me back on the ship, anyway from the look of things the vessel will be here for several days.

All Paul had were two suitcases, because he had thought he would be going back to South Africa so he’d left most of his things in his small flat in Johannesburg, to be looked after by a friend, anticipating he would be gone for about three months. The rent on the flat he paid to the end of the year.

Returning to his cabin, he quickly packed, leaving the suitcases in the passage as instructed, to be taken by one of the stewards. It would be put with ambulance team’s baggage on deck waiting to be swung over the side in a cargo hoist onto the lighter. He went into the saloon and approached Bob Gilrane, the leader of the team and quickly explained the misunderstanding which had taken place in the Purser’s office and his dilemma about accomplishing the task that Selby-Evans had given him. Bob Gilrane said to stay with the group until they got to the shore then approach someone in authority there and try and clear the matter up, he should be able to find someone with better English who should be able to understand. He couldn’t stay with them once on the shore.

Paul went and sat with the rest of the team over on the far side of the saloon, he found he was sitting next to a pleasant looking girl, he presumed to be one of the nurses much about his age. Freckled face, darkish red hair at least that what it looked like the little he could see showing at the edges of the scarf she had tied around her head. She looked at him curiously, nodded and half smiled in welcome but didn’t say anything. He had seen her around with the medical team but hadn’t spoken to her during the few days they had been on the ship.

Carl Zuicher, Oberleutnant in the German Wehrmacht stood in his cabin on the ‘Hermes’ talking to Erhard Schiller, his Feldwebel (Sergeant), and the two private soldiers who were accompanying them. He was explaining to them what was happening to the vessel and speaking rapidly in German.

These Italians have made a mess of our arrangements, we need to get into Abyssinia before the war finishes, and I need to get to Addis Ababa as soon as possible to make contact with the German Embassy. From the look of things here we are going to be delayed a good few days. They are taking off that ambulance unit and I am going to try and go at the same time. We can go from here to Addis Ababa but we will need transport which I think I can demand from these Italians. Go and pack now, I’ll go and see this Italian officer who’s a fool anyway. He shouldn’t be any trouble. Meet me on deck with your baggage in ten minutes.

The group dispersed and he went along the corridor to the saloon to find the little Italian.

Carl Zuicher found the Italian officer just outside the foyer doors, on deck and using his passable Italian explained he and his party needed to leave the ship and also have transport to Addis Ababa. The Italian naval officer said that there were no facilities for onward transportation for civilians, he could go ashore if he so wished but would have to talk to the senior army commander to get authorisation to continue onward. If he and his men got ready he would send a launch out to the vessel later for them. Carl said he would go with the medical team when they disembarked. The officer said there would be no room.

Carl looked over the side and pointing to the lighter said that there was more than enough room on there, pushing his finger in the officer’s chest said that when he got on shore he would be reporting him for being obstructive to a German officer and ally of the Italian Army.

The bluster went out of the Italian and he agreed hastily that Carl and men could go with the medical team.

Following the evening meal on the ship everyone for disembarkation was ordered to report to the top of the accommodation ladder and go down to the lighter. Not an easy task, the ship was heaving slightly in the swell and the lighter moving at the same time a different way. Bob Gilrane made the party go down with a male in front of each female so that when the male made the deck of the lighter he turned and assisted the female to bridge the gap between the two vessels. Paul went down in front of the girl he had been sat next to in the saloon and caught her when she made the lighter.

Thank you, she said and smiled which seemed to light her face up. I take it you’re now an honorary member of this team.

So the Italians think, so let’s keep it dark for the moment. Smiling in return.

The lighter had a flat deck without any rails, with the heaving of the vessel in the swell it was difficult to keep balanced and she held on to his arm to keep steady.

When Paul looked around he saw that the German/ South Africans were already there, each man had his luggage with him, the medical team’s baggage was in a pile at the end of the lighter.

The Italian naval officer came down on to the deck of the lighter and gave the signal to the tug to make for the shore.

As the lighter got closer to the shore, in the half darkness, Paul could make out a solid wooden jetty about sixty feet long towards which they were heading. Once they arrived and made fast the naval officer told them to collect their baggage from the pile and disembark. Bob Gilrane demurred and asked for transportation along the jetty. The naval officer called two the drivers out and took them down to the end and they came back with a small large wheeled handcart. The males in the party unloaded the baggage from the lighter and then by the means of some ropes attached to the sides pulled the cart along the jetty following the naval officer.

The party of German/South Africans had long since departed ignoring the Italian naval officer when he shouted after them to wait.

A poorly lit narrow tarmac road ran around the bay and the strutting Italian officer led them along to the left after leaving the jetty. The road was thronged with Italian soldiers and sailors, most the worse from the effects of alcohol who wolf whistled and called out to the nurses of the party. Bob Gilrane had kept them surrounded by the males of the party to deny the Italians access to them, even so there were some scuffles as the Italian servicemen tried their luck at approaching the nurses. After about a hundred yards the little Italian turned into a walled compound gate, guarded by a sloppy looking sailor, the wall of the compound surrounding a dirty white painted villa.

In his poor English he indicated that this was where they would stay for the night, food would be brought to them in the morning. Bottled water was in the kitchen. They should divide the rooms up as they wish. They should not try and leave the sentry had instructions to shoot.

Paul decided he wouldn’t ask about his position until the next day when he could see someone he hoped with better English.

Bob Gilrane and Anne Hitchins, the Head nurse went into the villa and had a look around, the rest of the party waited outside. They came out onto the veranda after about ten minutes and beckoned the rest of the party in.

The villa consisted of four bed rooms and a bathroom upstairs, each bed room equipped with three beds, blankets, no linen, but pillows. There were towels of sorts and soap in the bathroom. Downstairs were two large rooms, one with a table and eight dining chairs, the other fitted out with two sofas and three armchairs and a few small tables, off the hall was another bathroom.

The kitchen was inspected, found to be very sparsely fitted out, only the basic necessities. Pans, table, cooker that looked as if it used paraffin (kerosene) as a fuel, crockery and glasses, cutlery and utensils.

The water the Italian spoke of was contained in five large earthenware demi-johns and pronounced reasonable by Bob after smelling and tasting.

The time was getting late, towards ten o’clock at night, so because they didn’t know what the next day would bring it was decided to try and get some sleep early.

It was agreed that the six female members of the party would take one bed room, and top and tail in the three beds. Twelve of the males would do the same in the other two bedrooms and Bob Gilrane, Paul and one Doctor would sleep downstairs in the lounge room.

They also agreed that the males would stand watch through the night in shifts. It got light in those parts about 6AM; four of the male attendants volunteered and said they would work it out themselves. They would watch by the front door and an armchair was pushed out to make it comfortable for the watchman. Everyone settled down for the night.

CHAPTER 2

The night passed without incident. Around 7AM two naval personnel arrived at the villa with cold food for breakfast. Cheeses of different sorts, some cold meats, rolls which were reasonably fresh, some fruit, and proceeded to make coffee for them in the kitchen.

The guard outside had been doubled for the daytime, still naval personnel, but these looked a little smarter.

Following breakfast, the little Italian naval officer arrived and took Bob Gilrane back with him to meet with the Generale di Divisione Aerea (Lieutenant General) in charge of Mogadishu. The meeting was at the Headquarters further into the town. Bob Gilrane protested to the Generale that it was an unlawful act to detain them, remove them from the ship and imprison them and would certainly create an International incident at Governmental level. The general shrugged expressively, How can that be, we are assisting you in your humanitarian work, we are facilitating your early arrival in Addis Ababa.

The naval officer who detained us informed us that we would be required to attend to Italian military casualties and we would be held here in Mogadishu. Is that correct?

The General examined his beautifully manicured finger nails carefully, No, but if we request assistance from you, under your Hippocratic Oath you could scarcely refuse without prejudicing your personal professional standing. Is that not so doctor?

I think that’s splitting hairs, General, I demand to be released and put back on the ship immediately.

I think you should go straight to Addis Ababa from here, and I will have all your vehicles unloaded and you can leave immediately. What can be fairer, when you get to Addis Ababa you will be welcomed by our victorious army and they will appreciate your help. I would also remind you, Doctor, that we the glorious Italian Government are being very magnanimous to you, I could have you all jailed for trying to help the savage and brutal enemy.

I do not…

The General signalled the interview was over by standing up and swaggering out of the room followed by his fawning assistant.

An Italian army Maggiore (Major) came into the room and gestured for Bob Gilrane to follow him out. The major had very poor English so that Bob had great difficulty in understanding him until a Tenete (Lieutenant) turned up and did some translating. Gist of it was they were going to be given supplies, an armed escort and were going to be made to travel overland to Addis Ababa commencing as soon as their vehicles could be off-loaded from the ship. Thinking about it, Bob realised that when they got to Addis Ababa they would be put to work for the Italian military, instead of as their plan had always been to travel by road up the escarpment from Djibouti and tend the wounded civilians. Unconfirmed reports had indicated there were a lot of civilians burnt by mustard gas at Harer and Dire Dawa; these towns on the way to Addis Ababa. Further unconfirmed information indicated that there were a lot of casualties in those towns due to Italian bombing and very little in the way of hospital facilities. The Italians wouldn’t want the information on unrestricted bombing and the use of poison gas to be confirmed. Furthermore if the Italians were short of medical facilities they wouldn’t want to leave them on the ship so that they landed at Djibouti. If the war was over, we wouldn’t go into Abyssinia immediately but Italians wouldn’t have been able to force them to attend Italian wounded and exclude the Abyssinian civilians. The tending of military casualties was likely to be forced upon them now he thought, unless he could find a way to miss Harer and Dire Dawa completely and travel straight to Addis, but Addis must be 600 miles away. I must wait until I can talk to Jan Bosof. Jan Bosof, the senior driver was an expert on local conditions in Abyssinia and may have the answer.

He was taken back to the villa where the team were waiting for his return. He explained to them what had transpired between the General and himself.

Earlier that year in America, after the proposal for a Medical Mission was accepted and funds raised; Bob Gilrane had been put in charge by the principals and had set about recruiting staff. His first recruit had been Dorn Runck, a South African working with him at John Hopkins Hospital; it was he who had recommended apart from the senior medical staff all others should be from either South Africa or neighbouring countries. The drivers should all be experienced in that part of the world. The senior driver was Jan Bosof, a 45-year-old South African, who had extensive experience of working in Abyssinia going back over many years. Another plus in his favour was he spoke a reasonable amount of Amharic which was the lingua franca of the country where about 70 different dialects and languages were used.

So he turned to Jan Bosof, the senior driver; putting the question to him of the route they would need to take to get to Addis Ababa from Mogadishu.

Well, I need to look at the map to confirm it, boss, but from memory we need to go through Harer and Dire Dawa to get to Addis from here. The other route would be impossible for the field ambulances and even the route we will take we will need a lot of luck and hard work on our side, but it will go through Harer and Dire Dawa. That General doesn’t know the map or the terrain.

The area we have to go through is called The Ogaden, pretty lawless it is, run by tribal chiefs, a law unto themselves whilst paying tribute to the Emperor. Upset them and at the best they either shoot you or hack you to pieces and if you really upset them they’ll hand you over to their women to flay you whilst you’re still alive. God knows what they’re doing to any Italian prisoners they get. The Italians tried to go through last year and got a bloody nose further north from here at Wal Wal. There the Abyssinians killed all 32 of them; this was before the war proper started when the Eyties were generating a few frontier clashes to make their case stronger in the League of Nations. I bet this bunch of Eyties hasn’t got much beyond the frontier up north from here. There’s a reasonable road runs just short of the frontier towards the east and into British Somaliland. If we can con this lot into letting us set off up north and then veer east, we might make British Somaliland before they find out we’ve turned. Unfortunately, the maps are packed with the survival kits in the back of the Chevvy station wagon. Until we get the vehicles unloaded we’ll have to wait.

Whilst Bob Gilrane had been with the General, Paul Grant had been able to get one of the guards outside to take him to the Naval Headquarters where he thought he would have a better chance of talking his way into being allowed to travel to British Somaliland providing he could find transport. The Naval HQ was about a quarter of a mile from their villa, still on the sea front. The sailor, who took him to it, had a little English so explained to an officer who Paul was, but must have also assumed that Paul was with the medical team. The officer whose English was passable waved his arm in the air in a gesture of dismissal, You are not the senior doctor; your senior is at this moment discussing how you can help our illustrious forces with our commandante. I refuse to discuss the subject with a junior doctor. Go. With that he fired rapid Italian at the sailor who then pulled Paul by the arm from the office and marched him back to the villa.

As he was pushed in through the tall villa gates, the girl whom he had helped from the ship was standing just inside and he collided with her. Apologising to her, he then turned to talk to the Italian sailor but he had already slammed the heavy metal gates shut. Paul shrugged and he turned back to the girl. She was still in slacks, loose shirt and bush jacket but had taken the scarf from around her hair and allowed her reddish brown hair to fall free reaching her shoulders.

Paul looked at her critically for the first time. He had seen her on the ship but only at a distance except in the dining saloon when she sat with her back to him at a table on the far side. When she used to enter the saloon it was from the far door so never at any time had he been close to her and had not paid a tremendous amount of attention to either her or the other females in the party.

He saw a girl who was slightly smaller than himself, reasonable proportioned as far as he could tell from the loose fitting clothes she wore. Nice pleasant, although not beautiful face, nevertheless attractive, freckles