Homeward Bound

Following the good news that I was to sail from Devonport on July 3rd, 1919, came a notification of appointment as Officer in Charge of an Advance Party, with instructions to proceed to Glasgow, there to join the “Prinz Hubertus”, a German ship being refitted by the P.& O. Company for service with the Australian Government as a troopship.

In 1903-4, at Hamburg, a ship by the name of “Cap Blanco” was built for the Hamburg-South American Service. In 1914, however, this ship was transferred to the Hamburg-American Line and re- christened “Prinz Hubertus”.

When war was declared in August 1914, the ship remained in the port of Hamburg until November 1918, when she was one of mamy to be handed over to England in accordance with the terms of the Armistice. She had 68 cabins, and, previously, carried 112 First Class and 700 Third Class passengers in the space eventually convert- ed to troop-decks.

We, of the Advance Party, left London for Glasgow on that memorable night, June 28th – the date of the signing of the Peace of the First World War – and as we made our way through the dense crowds to Euston Station, the great population of London was warming up to a night of celebration. From all directions people were pouring in to the heart of the flag-bedecked city. There was an atmosphere of buoyancy and gaiety, following nearly five years of the stern realism and restriction of a world war, with the irreparable loss of the cream of the Nation’s young manhood in the struggle.

We arrived at Glasgow early on a Sunday morning and embarked before breakfast.

Our first glimpse caused some disappointment, as the ship was still in the hands of the workmen. Material and refuse lay every- where, and the wharf alongside resembled the yard of a very busy building contractor.

But when, on a preliminary tour of inspection, we found such excellent accommodation, we were indeed happy. Workmen of many trades were still adding the final touches, and there seemed to be battalions of Scotch women on board, armed with buckets and brushes, scrubbing the ship throughout.

The re-fitting completed, it now remained for the Advance Party of troops to prepare the ship for embarkation during the two days’ run to Devonport.

We left Glasgow in the early hours of Tuesday, the 1st day of July, and, on the morning of July 3rd, we pulled into the wharf at Devonport, when a last-minute check was made to ensure that every- thing was ready to receive the troops.

A sharp whistle announced the arrival of the first train at 3pm.

There was no excitement or bustle about the embarkation – indeed, it was remarkable for its silent order. When the train stopped at the ship’s side, the majority of the men remained seated, . as if they were in no hurry to detrain, and when the order was passed along, they stepped out leisurely.

One lad strolled across to the ship and hailed a pal in the Advance Party on board. “What sort of a tub is she, Dark?”

“She’ll do me!” replied Dark emphatically, and similar assurances were passed to others on the wharf.

Plymouth Harbour, on the morning of July 4th, presented a delightful spectacle. The day was a perfect one of English summer, and the green patches of Devon stood out brightly under a warm sun.

Moored in the harbour were ships and small craft in great variety, from up-to-date destroyers to old training ships of the “Victory” type, and from proud ocean liners to humble fishing smacks.

America was well represented, and, from her ships, lines of bunting reminded us it was commemoration of Independence Day.

The conditions for our departure were ideal, and when, at noon, we glided out of the harbour, with our band playing spirited tunes on the forecastle deck, our feelings were beyond description.

As we passed each Man-o’-war the bluejackets assembled on deck and gave three rousing cheers, and, to these, we responded warmly.

It was a memorable morning, and the many thoughts racing through our minds at the time brought joy and sadness in turn – joy at the exciting thought of our going home, and all that this meant, and sadness at the thought of those best pals whom we were leaving behind.

“These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be.”

After a period of settling down we were soon in good heart on the voyage.
We passed the Canary Islands on the sixth day out, and, two days later, we were treated to some pleasant after-breakfast enter- tainment by a large school of dolphins which swarmed around the ship, giving a delightful performance to a most appreciative audience.

Just before they finally left us, one dolphin, apparently the star artist of the school, put on an exhibition of high jumping. This we found most amusing.

The dolphins were still fresh in our thoughts when, on the next day, we ran into some real excitement.

Shortly after midday, while the officers were at lunch, we were startled by a cry of “Man overboard!”

Immediately the ship was stopped and a boat lowered, but, by this time, the unfortunate man was far behind. A lifebuoy had been thrown to him, and, as the sea was calm, his chances of rescue were good.

In charge of the lifeboat was a somewhat new Petty Officer who, obviously, was not very familiar with the procedure, for, when the boat hit the water, a slight movement of the ship nearly stood it up on its keel, to the consternation of Captain Burleigh, directing operations from the bridge. His reaction was instantaneous. Cupping his hands to his mouth he shouted with tremendous volume, “Cut the painter.” The Petty Officer immediately seized the hatchet from the floor of the boat and, with a clean chop, severed the rope. The boat- crew then got away with a smart pull and the rescue was soon effected.

Within twenty minutes from his fall overboard the victim was back at the ship’s side, calmly smoking a cigarette in the lifeboat. and, subsequently. taking an active part in hoisting the boat back on deck again. As he stepped aboard three cheers were given him, and we were all thankful that the incident closed so happily.

We had just been given a practical illustration of the term cutting the painter”, which, on reflection, one was obliged to admit Having used on many occasions without any thought of its basic meaning

Monday, July 14th, was an important date, for, at night, we had the first glimpse of our beloved Southern Cross. Each one had his Then why thoughts as he pazed skyward, no doubt recalling that other night when, on the way over, the emblem appeared for the last time was that we wondered if we would have the good fortune to great ..

Truly it was a time for thank-offering. again in future.

In the vicinity of the Equator calm seas and glorious moonlight ofents prevailed and a week later, we found ourselves in the shade of Table Mountain.

Dr P.S band, now in splendid form after three weeks of assian The shore-leave quota marched up to the city headed by the

practice. After dismissal, the men soon discovered that Cape Town catered well for the visiting soldier.

They found, too, just outside the city, some fine pleasure resorts, such as Camps Bay, Houts Bay and Muizenberg, while, within easy reach of the city by tram or motor car, they could visit the home of that great statesman, the late Cecil Rhodes, at the rear of which, on a rugged mountain slope, stands a massive monument in granite, overlooking a wonderful panorama of country.

But perhaps the finest thing that Cape Town has to offer is the Mountain Motor Drive. This follows the coastline for the first part, providing delightful seascapes, and then leads between the mountains into the country behind, revealing rare examples of scenic beauty.

This first day at the Cape was indeed a happy one, and it was not surprising that, early on the next morning, there were many eager people ready to go ashore again to make the most of another day in the capital of Cape Colony.

At 7 o’clock on Sunday morning we left for Durban, where we were to coal. This was contrary to earlier beliefs, but the surprise made our pleasure all the deeper.

There were, however, some grave misgivings on board, arising from the knowledge that our ship had developed a very serious list to starboard – so serious indeed, that passengers of other ships, who watched us enter Table Bay, felt sure that we would follow the fate of the “Waratah”, adding a reminder that it was “in these waters” that the ill-fated ship was lost. But, all the way to Dur- ban the waters were smooth, and this, with the warm sunshine, made travelling most enjoyable.

We found Durban busily preparing for Peace celebrations, the whole city being heavily draped with flags and festoons. Everywhere there was feverish activity, in the city’s efforts to create an atmosphere of rejoicing.

Durban has much of interest for the visitor. The famous Ocean Beach, with its many attractions; the Zoological Gardens at Mitchell Park; the Botanical Gardens, where tropical plants and trees abound; the pretty Berea Tram-ride; and the stately block of Public Buildings, of which Durban is justly proud – all these are worthy of attention.

But the rickshaw boys are perhaps the city’s most character- istic and spectacular feature.

These “boys”, of fine physique, with brown, shining skins, wear a light garment of many colours and quaint head-dress.

They draw “two wheel” rubber-tyred vehicles and, travelling at a smart trot, convey two or three passengers to any part of the city. This is both silent and comfortable, and there is no waiting, for the boys are everywhere, and one look is sufficient to bring one or more prancing to the kerb. Their antics are most amusing, imitating a fractious horse, making weird hissing noises and absurd grimaces, and many other means of attracting attention.

As at Cape Town, the Y.M.C.A. was much in evidence at Durban in entertaining the “Digger”, and it was no fault of theirs that their efforts were overshadowed by the wonderful individual work of Miss Campbell, who became known throughout the Australian Forces and to the folks at home in Australia as “The Angel Of Welcome”.

Bidding “Welcome” to incoming, and “Good Luck” to outgoing transports by means of flag signalling, she never failed to be at her post on the breakwater at all times and in all types of weather. Then, as soon as each transport pulled in to the wharf, she would be there with baskets laden with oranges, throwing them to the troops with expert judgment. Her stock of oranges exhausted, she would hurry back to the city to the Y.M.C.A. Hut, there to welcome all callers.

Little wonder that. to Australian soldiers of those days, the name Durban immediately brought to mind “the little girl with the flags”.

But, for me, personally, Durban has left an evergreen memory. My mother had a relative who was associated with the Law Courts in Pietermaritzburg, the capital of Natal, and, remembering this, when news came through that we were to call at Durban, I immediately thought of ‘Maritzburg, and wondered if there would be time for a trip by road, some 30 miles north-west of Durban.

Accordingly, on going ashore, I lost no time in visiting the principal taxi-rank in the city for information. The news was good, and I decided to make the trip.

A party was hurriedly organised, comprising the Ship’s Surgeon, Lieutenants S.C. Steele and R.E. Carter, and myself, and we left Durban at noon.

The Imperial Hotel at Pine Town was our venue for lunch, after which we commenced our trip through wild mountain country, described in my diary as “one long switchback”, rising to 3500 feet.

In the course of this wonderful trip we were impressed, in turn, by the large plantations of Australian wattles (for bark), the banana and pineapple groves, the maize country, the kraals – the quaint native settlements characteristic of this South African countryside – and the country stores, each of which, on this day, was flying the Union Jack.

We noted with particular interest and pleasure the extensive planting of Australian Eucalypts, Acacias and Grevilleas in estates, in streets, and in the gardens of homesteads.

Our route took us through Pine Town, Hill Crest, Botha’s Hill (of Boer War significance), Alverstone, and, of special note, the famous Valley Of A Thousand Hills – a truly remarkable feature.

It was 4.30 p.m. when we reached the main street of ‘Maritz-

burg. Here, again, we encountered Peace Day celebrations, the city being heavily decked with flags and other decorations of great variety.

We had no difficulty in locating Mr. Leffler, and, after a warm welcome, were soon enjoying afternoon tea with the family.

With little time available, it was decided that we take a walk around the city and surrounds with our host and members of the family, and, after just a peep at several places of interest, we returned to the homestead in time for dinner.

The meal was most enjoyable and quite an unusual experience for us, in that a barefooted native boy was our waiter, performing his duties most efficiently and almost noiselessly.

Shortly after dinner Mr. Leffler and his daughters, Eileen, Kathleen and Lilian, walked with us to the Post Office, where we picked up our Dodge for the return trip.

This proved to be a hazardous experience, the thought of which gave Mr. Leffler considerable anxiety, especially when he noted that our driver was actually not fit to drive, having spent the afternoon drinking. This was a serious matter under ordinary circumstances, but, in view of the mountainous country we were to cross, and the fact that, during much of the time, we would be travelling through cloud, it was little wonder that our host was worried, and made us aware of his fears.

Nevertheless, although a little apprehensive, we found our trip a thrilling experience, taking us through grass fires, fog and cloud.

The strain was lifted from time to time by the fascinating fairy-like effects in the deep valleys, where village settlements, railway stations and the like, with their lights burning brightly, were wonderful to see from the high altitudes at which we were travelling.

It was near one of these illuminated valleys that we were fortunate to escape disaster.

We had just emerged from a floating cloud and were climbing a steep rise, at the top of which we could see a post and rail fence. The rails were missing from that part of the fence opposite the road- way, giving the impression that our road ran through the opening.

That was what our driver thought, but, just as we reached a point a few yards from the opening, we suddenly realised that the road took a sharp turn to the left.

We were saved from being hurled into the deep valley by the driver’s miraculous turn of the wheel, with not a second to spare. Lieutenant Steele, who sat in the front seat with the driver, already had his door open, intending to jump, when the sudden turn was made.

We eventually recovered our equilibrium, and, a little further along the road, stopped for tea at an hotel which, we learned, had been the Imperial Headquarters for Natal during the Boer War. We sat in what had been the Officers’ Mess.

We breathed a heavy sigh of relief and thankfulness when, at about 11.30 p.m., we drew up at the ship’s side – to quote the diary: “All satisfied that this was the finest trip of our lives.”

Although three days ashore were very pleasant, we were quite ready when, at 7 a.m. on Saturday, August 2nd, we started on the home run.

Unfortunately, we ran into very rough weather that lasted for the first four days out. and this, coming on top of good living ashore, kept most of the personnel on board very quiet. However, the rough weather cleared, and each successive day was one of calm sea and blue Southern sky.

As we drew near to Adelaide we realised, and acknowledged, that a trip more pleasant, under military conditions, could not be imagined.

To the Commander of the ship (Commander C. W. Burleigh, D.S.O., R.N.R. ) and the Commanding Officer (Major H.L. Wheeler), we were deeply grateful, and the opportunity came to express our thanks and admiration in a printed Souvenir of the Trip entitled “The Retreat”.

The Skipper, always wearing a happy smile, instilled confidence from the beginning, and his fatherly interest in our welfare endeared him to us all.

No To the C.O., tactful, patient and kindly, we owe the perfect harmony with which all work was carried out during the voyage. wetter proof of the wisdom and consideration of his administration would be found than the excellent behaviour and fine spirit of the men on all occasions.

rendered. These included the Band, with first-class daily programs;

Then there were others who earned our thanks for fine services Orchestra of humble birth but rapid development; the Sports tings, with good prizes; and the Concerts supplied by “The Versa beats discovered on the way home.

The closing paragraph of the description of the voyage, written for the “Souvenir”, included these words :-

“Very soon we will take up again the peaceful pursuits we laid aside when the call came. We have passed through experiences never intended for man, we have mingled with other peoples in many and strange places, we have studied customs and conditions in the Old World, and from it all we return with an unshakable conviction that ours is the finest land “that e’er the sun shone on’. Let us continue to serve it in Peace as we did in War.”