Cannibal Dogs, Horrific Sudanese Road Accident, Regimental Fist Fights

Red Sea Hills

The next instalment of My grand-uncle's war memoirs.

In March 1940, it was suddenly brought home to us that the peacetime footing that we were experiencing was about due to finish. Twenty of us were alerted to pack our kit and a couple of days later boarded the Sudan Railways train for a thirty-six hour journey, via Atbara, to Summit, in the Red Sea Hills. 

We were to prepare a camp for the Squadron to arrive in approximately two weeks time. Ten Miles away from the railway station of Summit we swung mallets day in, day out, putting up dozens of tents, making fuel dumps, hiding them with bushes. We had dozens of Sudanese working for us, including Fuzzy Wuzzies, but the latter, a very independent tribe, soon disappeared. Labouring was not their cup of tea. At first we were called Cathargo. But later we were renamed Erkowit. A civilian rest camp existed about three miles further into the hills.

About a week after arriving we were in our small tent relaxing. It was dark, about 7 in the evening. All we had was a small paraffin lamp with which to read.

Through the open flap we saw some bare native legs. On investigating we found that they belonged to a very excited Fuzzie Wuzzie and not understanding him took him to our Officer in charge, a medical Officer, who had a native foreman / translator in the next tent. We then found out the reasons for his excitement.

An open three-tonne lorry, carrying about twenty Sudanese, was returning to Summit after laying telephone lines and the Cpl driver had left the sand track at speed, buried its nose in a ditch and catapulted all of them into the air to land about ten to fifteen yards ahead of the crashed wagon. When we arrived in the dark we found that six were already dead, others had broken arms, legs, pelvises, all very badly injured joints like footballs, terribly swollen.

We did all we could to help, bandaging, splinting, making them as comfortable as we could. Our paraffin pressure lamps were attracting all manner of insect life: scorpions, snakes and a few wild dogs which were dispatched as quickly as possible.

Two extra wagons were obtained from 223 Squadron at Summit and our long journey was started through the Red Sea Hills, on a terrible track, mostly a corrugated surface, to the Port Sudan Hospital about forty miles away.

What a journey in the dark. We arrived about 6 o'clock in the morning, about 10 mph.

The wagon I was in carried the dead natives. Standing in the back, an open wagon, the blankets covering the bodies, because of the vibration and rough surface of the road, were always sliding off. I was sure that one of them, a huge Nibian who had died with his eyes wide open, was still alive. There was a full moon shining down and seemed to reflect in his eyes. Was I glad when that journey was over!

Arriving back at our tented camp about midday, having been up for about thirty hours, and after having a meal, we all fell asleep.

Next day off we went again, swinging mallets.

The day before the Wellesleys were due to arrive we were given five rounds each to try our hand at shooting a gazelle. But they were too alert for us. Cpl York though told us not to shoot an ostrich, came back with an ostrich feather beaming all over his face. He, and his two partners, were rapidly given shovels and told to go and find it and bury it quickly. They arrived back after dark. It was forbidden to shoot ostrich.

The Squadron arrived over the next few days and settled in. Familiarisation was the main task.

Our beds were two trestles, nine inches off the floor with three planks about ten inches wide each. Palliasses filled with straw. Water was rationed to two gallons a day. A shower at night consisted of one standing in half of a petrol can to catch the water being poured over one's body. You had to shave in the morning. The water bowser arrived every day from Summit Railway Station.

The billet boys from Khartoum also came with the Squadron to Erkowit. When they found that they were carrying gallons of water for thirty bods every day, hundreds of yards to the tents, they suddenly disappeared back to Khartoum.

Word was sent back to Khartoum to put them on the 'Black List' and not to employ them in the camp.

Sinkat was a railway station with a large Army camp about twelve miles away through the hills. Sections were allowed to use their flight lorries to go for a swim in an old disused railway turntable filled with water. After tea, a short film and then back home in the dark.

A Senior NCO, armed, was always in the passenger seat in the cab. Returning from one trip we were suddenly chased by a pack of about twenty wild dogs. Travelling slowly due to the rough track they were even trying to jump into the truck. The SNCO got out onto the running board and with his revolver fired into the dogs. One went down and was immediately set upon by the others and torn to bits. We left them behind but a mile or so later they appeared again and the same thing happened.

An ingenious way of supplying mugs of tea by the Sudanese NAAFI Manager was witnessed. He had a cut-down forty gallon drum, filled with old engine oil to a depth of 7 inches (18cm) or so. The oil was heated over an open fire. Beer bottles were lowered into the oil, where they immediately cracked straight across the oil level, clean as a whistle. A rub with a piece of emery cloth blunted the sharp edges. Cleaned, they were then the new mugs for serving tea, no handles though. Pint mugs were unobtainable.

Sinkat, the Army Camp, was in a valley surrounded by hills and had been an Army-established camp for decades. On the surrounding hills the regimental crests of all the regiments that had served over the years were imprinted in the sides, huge crests a hundred yards (91m) long.

We had heard a story, on one of our visits, that there had been a big fight between two of the regiments stationed there. It appeared that one of the regiments, who had a detachment in Palestine, had suffered a number of casualties there. When its Sgt Major woke with reveille in the morning, on getting out of bed and turning to face his colours through the open window to pay his respects he saw with horror that the tail of the lion,* which normally swung upwards over the back of the lion, was now down between its back legs and laying under its belly. During the night the other regiment had crept out and altered its position. Dozens of soldiers were carrying black eyes, etc.

No mean feat to move yards of different coloured rock halfway up a huge hill during the night.

*The lion was in fact a dragon with small wings and was the regimental crest of the Buff Regiment.