A walk in the Sahara

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izod tester
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A walk in the Sahara

#1 Post by izod tester » Thu Oct 20, 2022 5:14 pm

One of my uncles was Wellington pilot in the Middle East in 1942. He crash landed in the desert after an engine failure, was taken prisoner and in due course took up reidence in Stag Luft 3. He took part in the Great Escape and had the good fortune survive. My cousin has just come across some descriptions of his experiences. The first, written in the 3rd person is follows in 2 parts since it is longer than the 10,000 characters allowed per post.

Desert Landing

On September 18th 1942, a pilot was peering into the darkness of the Western Desert approximately 50 miles South of Sollum. The port wing and fuselage of the aircraft were blazing and the port motor was out of action. The other crew members had already left by parachute, but he had been unable to follow as the aircraft was too near the ground. The next two seconds preceding the crash landing seemed to last as many years.
Hurriedly collecting dingy rations and the large navigator’s compass he raced away from the burning aircraft through the pilot’s escape hatch. As the fire spread to the fuel tanks there was a loud explosion and the bombs that he had been unable to release blew up. The pilot fell flat on his face as parts of the aircraft whistled overhead, His only remaining transport was his legs and his destination was El Alamein at least 250 miles East.
Sitting down on the desert he took stock of his possessions. A khaki battledress and shirt, suede crepe sole desert boots, which, although comfortable, were not ideal for long walks; dinghy rations, consisting of 4 tins of tomato juice (“Cool before serving”), dried milk tablets, Benzedrine tablets, water purifying tablets, a torch, a .38 revolver with 6 rounds of ammunition and, by far the most useful item, a half-litre water bottle on the revolver belt. He had a very small compass in his pocket but the large navigator’s compass taken from the aircraft was too heavy to carry, so it had to be abandoned together with the Very cartridge and sea markers.
Using compass and stars as a guide he headed East to be well away from the remains of the aircraft before dawn. The night was cold in a desert more stony than sandy. Walking was difficult but he made good progress. As the sun rose the scorching heat compelled rest, but without shade the hot sun made sleep almost impossible. Amazing as it may seem, he was tormented by flies, though where they came from, or what they used for food was a mystery. They were the only form of life he saw for 7 days. Nothing but desert, the flies and him, no humans, no animals, no birds, no vegetable growth and no water. Just the sun in the daytime and the stars at night. Walking through the night, he occasionally heard aircraft on their way to and from Tobruk. Signalling forlornly to them with a torch evoked no answer,
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A tin of tomato juice and a few drops of water were used each day but, as the supply of liquid was running low on the 4th day he headed north towards the coast. He was further South than he had estimated and finally the water and juice were gone. In a desperate effort to reach the sea he took all the Benzedrine tablets and walked in the heat of the sun until he passed out by some posts which had been visible on the horizon, and proved to be a telegraph line, the first sign of civilisation seen for nearly a week. Recovering consciousness in the evening with the fall in temperature, he had a splitting headache and a desperate thirst. Lips and tongue were swollen and felt like pieces of hard leather.
The telegraph line across the desert had been erected by the British, but it was possible the Germans were using it. Too exhausted to walk any further he cut down the stays of several posts, pulled down the line and cut it, hoping that someone would be sent to investigate and incidentally bring water. Nobody came, but one feature about this telegraph line probably saved his life. Several 4 gallon metal petrol tins had been abandoned along the line. Collecting several of these he split them open like the petals of a flower. During the night little drops of moisture condensed on to the cold metal and by licking the rusty tins he obtained sufficient water to keep alive. Thus, passed 3 days and three nights. He felt stronger but could not carry the tins or move from the meagre, but precious, water supply. During this time 3 M.E. 109 aircraft passed low overhead. He waved and fired a revolver, but if they saw him they took no notice.
At sunset on the seventh day something moved against the setting sun on the horizon. Hurriedly packing his few possessions, he set off to intercept. 2 hours later he came across a herd of 50 young camels and one Arab driving them slowly across the desert. He gave the pilot a drink, a unique experience with such a thirst, but as the water reached his empty stomach he suffered violent pains. By now, the camels were moving on and as the Arab had to keep them together he had to do so too. Not daring to lose touch with either the Arab or his water supply, the pilot staggered along behind. The pains gradually diminished and the water revived him sufficiently to keep in touch more easily. Apparently young camels follow a leader camel and when the leader lays down the rest follow suit. This happened about midnight and the two of them were soon in the centre of a large circle of squatting camels. A fire was lit with some camel thorn and the Arab made bread with flour and water which he baked in the ashes of the fire. They had an excellent meal of fresh bread, sour goat’s milk and water. They slept amongst the camels with a blanket over them. It was his first good sleep for eight days. At dawn, they were on their way East, towards a water hole. How the Arab navigated is uncertain, but the camels seemed to be able to home on the water supply and strung out into a long line with the Arab at the end. The pilot kept them comfortably in sight but sufficiently far away to avoid any Germans that might intercept them. About midday they arrived at a small Arab encampment alongside a well, which was flask shaped with a narrow neck some 3 feet in diameter but
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increasing to 12 feet. The lay-out of this well was carefully studied for future reference. There seemed to be no particular reason for it to have been dug at that particular spot. There was, however, a mound of the excavated earth alongside and this became a useful landmark in locating subsequent wells (mostly dry). Two Arabs were squatting above it using goatskin bags on long ropes for drawing water which they emptied into rough troughs from which the camels were drinking, The pilot joined the two Arabs with a rusty tin can and drank until full. The water was no doubt filthy, but never tasted better.
Later in the afternoon an Arab boy took the pilot to an encampment some distance away where he was treated with great courtesy. He was shown into a tent with rugs on the floor, and saddles along the sides, which proved comfortable for reclining. The tent sides were open at the eaves, giving shade but allowing plenty of air to circulate. The occupants were an Arab chief and his sons. The veiled wife was hard at work in an adjoining tent and kept herself discreetly out of sight. The Arab chief had lost a hand and a foot as a result of German bombing. They talked in limited Arabic and he asked them for help to get back to the British lines which entailed about 14 days walk. Though they were anxious to help, it was too far and too dangerous for them to offer guides. During the entire conversation, the youngest son was kept busy supplying drinks of water to satisfy the guest’s insatiable thirst, The Arab insisted that it was too dangerous to stay in their camp, for the Germans would wipe out the whole encampment if a British pilot was found there. They agreed to supply two additional water bottles and a haversack filled with biscuits (British Army issue, but no questions were asked as to their source). An assurance was given that to the East there were friendly Arabs and water. After the experiences of the previous week he was a little sceptical but had no choice. Unable to repay these Arabs for their kindness he left them a letter commending them to any British unit which they might meet. At sunset, he bade them goodbye and set off again to the East.

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Re: A walk in the Sahara

#2 Post by izod tester » Thu Oct 20, 2022 5:15 pm

2nd part

It is difficult to recall an accurate sequence of subsequent events. He again walked by night and tried to rest by day. The days seemed endless lying in the burning sun, tormented by flies which made sleep impossible. In the evening, when he could have slept, it was necessary to move on. But moving was agony, his feet were swollen and blistered, Then the blisters burst and became septic and he finally lost several toe-nails. He staggered along using sticks until his feet became numb and only then did walking become possible. If he stopped, he fell asleep. Moving eastwards some 20 miles south of the coastline there were many signs of activity. Day and night aircraft were flying overhead and by day he often saw German trucks and armoured cars which had to be avoided. At night, the anti-aircraft guns along the coast at Marsa Matruh and El Dahba could be seen and heard. He recalled the different circumstances in which he had last had occasion to dodge them. In this part of the desert there were many abandoned camps, wrecked transports and crashed aircraft. In two fighter aircraft the remains of the pilots, less fortunate that himself, were still in the cockpit. From abandoned supplies, he added several invaluable items to his equipment, A long silk cord from a parachute was used with a tin to obtain water from the very occasional well. The silk canopy served for shade but was soon abandoned in favour of a piece of canvas, since the parachute was too conspicuous. During the day, he now erected a very crude tent supported by walking sticks. This gave welcome shade and on one occasion averted capture. Late one afternoon he was lying in the “tent” trying unsuccessfully to sleep, when something moved against the skyline. It was a truck coming over the desert straight towards him. Every few minutes it would stop and move on again. Unable to stir, for any movement would be seen against the skyline, he pulled the sticks away and allowed the “tent” to collapse on top of him. The truck drove past within 20 metres of where he was lying, but none of the Germans thought to look under the dirty piece of canvas lying on the desert. The truck had been laying field telephone cables by unwinding wires from a large drum. Before moving on that night, he carefully disconnected the cables at a joint and remade the joint so that it would be difficult to find the break.
There was another lucky escape from capture later on. He had been walking all night and as the sun rose higher he looked for a suitable place to spend the day. This part of the desert was cut by deep wadis. Climbing the steep side of a wadi he saw the remains of a concrete bunkhouse and set off towards it thinking it would offer some shade. As he got closer he noticed that there was a radio aerial on the roof. This was suspicious so he moved into the cover of an abandoned truck and watched. The suspicions proved correct, for a man came out and looked around with binoculars. The bunker was in use as a German observation post. He had almost walked into it and now in broad daylight was stuck within 100 metres of the enemy. The man had scarcely gone back into the bunker when there was a high-pitched whining noise which sounded like an aircraft engine. It proved to be a truck loaded with soldiers which climbed out of the wadi he had just left following a rough track towards the post. To avoid being seen by the soldiers he had to move around the cover of the abandoned truck as the Germans went past. The first truck was followed by two more and in trying to keep out of sight of the first he would have been seen by the other two but for the lucky fact that the first truck had left a cloud of concealing dust. Hurriedly scrambling under the truck, which had no wheels, he found just sufficient room to lie flat on his back. He lay in this uncomfortable position all day waiting for darkness to get away. During the afternoon two German soldiers walked along the track past the truck so near that he could have touched their ankles. Darkness and escape from this predicament came together.

Since leaving the Arab encampment the supply of biscuits had been quite adequate for food. With the 3 water bottles, which were replenished from time to time he never suffered thirst again. The water was mainly replenished from wells enroute, and normally lasted for about 3 days. On one occasion the supply was running very low, when he came across a burnt-out truck. He stopped to examine it and discovered that the water tins on the back of the truck had burst with the heat but still contained a little water. From this supply, he quenched his thirst and filled the water bottles before continuing. Three days later he had an almost miraculous find. Walking (by compass) through a thick fog (caused almost every morning by the warm moist wind from the Mediterranean blowing over the cold desert) he met a solitary Arab. After exchanging polite greetings, he asked for water. A few minutes’ walk through the fog brought them to a 5-gallon oil drum standing on the sand which proved to be full of water. The Arab forgot to explain how he knew it was there! The day was spent beside this discovery. Drinking as much as possible, he filled the water bottles before leaving at dusk. Even then, there was still plenty of water left in the drum for the next traveller.

By contrast there was an excess of water a few days later. During October there are occasional storms in the desert and he ran into one of these. He was soon soaked to the skin and the water was flooding down the slopes of the desert and was ankle deep in places. Strangely enough the parched ground did not seem to absorb any of the moisture. There was no shelter and it was undesirable to sit down, so he walked on through the downpour. Even walking soon became difficult and he was happy to find a broken light anti-aircraft gun with a metal seat on which he perched, while the water flowed around the wheels. In addition, a cold wind was blowing. Chilled, wet and miserable, he pondered on the irony of fate which some days earlier had presented a situation where he would have given everything for a drop of water, and now, unasked, was bestowing an excess of it.

One morning, which he subsequently discovered was October 6th, he approached the rear of the German lines at El Alamein. It was useless to try to get through all the rear encampments in the darkness so he decided to press on in daylight. First came hospitals and cemeteries, later tank repair depots etc. There was a great deal of activity, men and trucks were moving about, yet he walked straight through. He must have looked a strange figure, and, indeed, many people glared, but he walked on ignored and was miraculously not stopped. In the afternoon, he came at last within range of the British guns. From then on walking was more difficult and extremely dangerous. Now a solitary figure in “no man’s land”, the noise of artillery, the shells whining overhead and the burst of machine-gun fire had a most unhealthy sound. He crawled into a slit trench and waited for darkness.

As night came, he prepared to move on, abandoning all surplus kit. He knew that before dawn he would be dead, captured, or free. Ahead lay the front-line infantry dug into the ground and protected by barbed wire entanglements and mine fields. He moved eastwards in the pitch darkness mostly on hands and knees, tearing clothes on barbed wire and avoiding the sound of voices or activity of any kind. For several hours, he made slow progress and when he felt sure he must be through, there was a loud challenge. He dropped flat on to his face and lay still, but the challenge was repeated and with it the war started. A Very light burst overhead and machine guns opened fire. With his nose well into the sand, all the bullets whistled overhead. Minutes later a patrol was sent out to pick him up, the desert trek was over, and he was a Kriegsgefangener. Only a mile remained to reach the British lines, but a very sticky mile it would have been!

Two weeks later the battle of El Alamein commenced. The British Army swept rapidly across the desert over which he had so painfully stumbled. By then he was in Athens, en-route for Germany.

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Re: A walk in the Sahara

#3 Post by Wodrick » Thu Oct 20, 2022 6:14 pm

Thank you
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Re: A walk in the Sahara

#4 Post by Karearea » Thu Oct 20, 2022 8:14 pm

Wonderful courage and strength.
Thank you, izod tester.
And with the morn, those angel faces smile...

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Re: A walk in the Sahara

#5 Post by Undried Plum » Thu Oct 20, 2022 8:27 pm

Cracking good tale, Izod.

One of the scariest experiences of my life was in Egypt's Eastern Desert. I needed to get to a pre-surveyed trigpoint to make some check observations with a theodolite. The ground was too soft to risk getting my 4x4 stuck, so I had walk about 6km.

I came across a rusting barbed wire fence which had triangular metal warning plates at about 50m intervals. Years of sandstorms had sand-blasted the paint off, so I couldn't tell whether I was on the safe side or the mined side. I sat down and had a good long think about my predicament.

I decided that the safest thing was to walk back the way I had come, following in my own footsteps where they visible in the coarse gritty sand and rock. Looking extremely carefully, I saw what looked like an old rusty paint tin, about a gallon or so, but shorter and more squat than any paint tin I've ever seen. An anti-tank mine, almost certainly. I was in the middle of a minefield. WW2 or one of the Israeli wars, I cared not a jot.

It was only about 2km back to my vehicle, but it took me three or four hours. I was shaking with fear. I pretty much drank The Stabiliser Bar in Bristow's camp at Ras Shukier dry that evening.

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