The Sinking of the Strathallan

I joined the RAF at the end of 1940 and after "square bashing at Bridgnorth I was sent on courses to become a radio mechanic. On arrival at No.2. Radio School at Yatesbury in Wiltshire we were told that we were to be taught the new and very secret "Radiolocation". This was a name coined by Winston Churchill, later once the Americans joined the war it was called "Radar". Training completed I was posted to a station in Pembrokeshire - RAF Hayscastle Cross. In terms of warfare this was a pretty quiet station. After about a year I was put on an overseas draft. This meant some further training at Worth Matravers followed by a waiting period at RAF Pevensey. We were kitted out with khaki battle dress but retained our blue badges and caps.This confused MPs at railway stations who could not make out what we were!Eventually we were sent to embark at Gourock and boarded the Strathallan, a former P&O liner converted to a troopship. This was December 1942. We sailed out into the Atlantic but had no idea of our destination. The storm in the Atlantic was one of the worst for 30 years and most of us were seasick for the first day or two at sea. There were about 5000 troops aboard, mostly Army, but a few RAF and some Queen Alexandra nurses. When eventually we passed through the straits of Gibraltar we had a pretty fair idea of our destination, but at about 0200 that night the Strathallan was hit by a torpedo from a lurking U-boat. All the main lights went out and the alarm bells were signallng "Boat Stations". When I got to the boat station I found that the lifeboat had gone. We spent a worrying night watching the ship's rail in relation to the horizon but as dawn broke she seemed to stop listing. I was relieved to see a Sunderland flying boat circling overhead. There was a fire burning in the engine room area where the torpedo had hit.Soon after the first of three Royal Navy destroyers came alongside and all of us were guided down to the lowest open deck where two men grabbed one's arms and said "jump!". It seemed a long way down to HMS Pathfinder but all my unit were taken off, only one broken ankle, The Navy took us to the port of Oran to a French barracks then by a "cattle truck" train to Algiers, our original destination. Of course we had lost all our kit as the Strathallan sank and we spent days going round stores trying to scrounge gear. As Christmas Day approached somebody shot the Vichy French Admiral Darlan and fearing trouble the authorities confined us all to billets. We were in a flat requisitioned from a civilian and celebrated Christmas on hard tack biscuits and tins of sardines! That was the start of my tour of duty with CMF (Central Mediterranean Forces) which lasted another three and a half years, but more of that later.

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