蜜芽传媒

Dorothy Cowey n茅e Wilkinson,
Originally from Cranswick, East Yorkshire

My father was in the RAF and in January 1939 my mother, brother and myself went out to join him in Palestine where he was stationed, at a camp called Sarafand. I was 13 years old.

When the war was going badly for the British in the desert with Romal, it was decided to evacuate all the married families to live in Jerusalem, as it was known that the Germans would not bomb there. It was September 1940. We were put in a hotel in the middle of the old city, but trouble blew up between the Jews and Arabs, so we were moved to a Monastery, just outside of the city walls called the Notre Dame. The RAF took over half the building and looked after us. From the window in our room we could watch the people going in and out of one of the old gates in the city walls. A few of us would join groups going round all the religious places and it was so interesting. We were only there until we could be dispersed to other places, mostly England or South Africa. Five months went past before our turn came to be moved on.

We sailed from Port Said on the Mauritania. She was made into a troop ship for the duration of the war, but she was still a fine, beautiful ship. We travelled along the Suez Canal into the Red Sea where it was very hot and a lot of people came out with red prickly heat 鈥� most uncomfortable. On the ship there were a lot of troops who had been wounded and were going to South Africa to recuperate. The ship landed at Durban, where some of us went by train journey up country arriving at a seaside resort called Margate. It was an ideal place to be except that we had to keep out of the sea as there were a lot of sharks about, but still beautiful, with blue lagoons and palm trees. We were billeted on a family half way up a hill with a lovely view.

In October 1941 my father was to be sent back to England and mum was given the chance to stay on in South Africa or go back with him. It was decided for England, as those places are fine for holidays but real life was going on in England. Dad came on the same journey as we had to collect us, so we had to go back to Durban to pick up the ship for home. It was the SS Orduna and what an old ship she was, we heard that it was going to be her last trip. We sailed around to Cape Town and spent a week in the harbour to pick up some troops going home. The people of Cape Town were very kind and came in their cars to take us all around sightseeing and show us some history of the place.

Then we were on our way again, this time over to the West Indies. We called in at one island, Trinidad; it was beautiful sailing through the islands. Next the boat made sail for Canada to Halifax, Nova Scotia. We were not allowed off the boat as it was picking up supplies and troops going to England to fight. A unit of Norwegians came aboard, so tall, fair and handsome. Each morning at eight they were up on deck doing exercises in their PT kit, it was worth my friend and I getting up early just to watch them. This is where we joined the convoy of ships to cross over the North Atlantic ocean to England. There was only one scare waking up one morning to find no other ships around, we were on our own as the ship had broken down during the night and the other ships in the convoy could not wait around for us, but they did slow up. The ship was finally mended and each night we all prayed that the weather would be wet and miserable so that the German U-boats would never see us. The ship caught up with the convoy a few days later. God was with us on that journey home.

Liverpool was our destination. When we were near we had to stop, it was evening, and we had our first air raid, it was a bad one and very frightening. We left the boat the next day after being on it for seven weeks from Durban. We were glad to get on to firm land again and safely back. It was November, wet and cold when we got on to a train making its way up to Hull, no sooner had we got off the train at Hull station when we had our second air raid and were sent down into a shelter. There was an older man sat smoking a pipe and the smell of tobacco reminded me of my granddad. I knew we were back in Yorkshire. The all clear rang out and Dad said he would go and see if the train was ready. He did not want it to go without us. The man sitting smoking said, 鈥淣ot to worry it won鈥檛 go without you鈥�, why not we all said, his reply 鈥淚鈥檓 the driver, him sitting next to me is the fireman鈥�. Thirty minutes later we were sitting in my Grandma鈥檚 house in Hutton Cranswick, East Yorkshire.

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