 Two days later, I received a bad leg injury whilst moving other families and that laid me up for a while, so I never saw the rest of the clean up. We were “rescued” by the Devon and Dorset Regiment who stayed for quite a while. Families gradually went back to their houses only to find that many had been looted. Most began making plans to return to England, and I found myself on the rear guard, sweeping up the mess and preparing the equipment that could leave with us. Much of the equipment and premises were to be put up for auction but many of us were more intent on seeing that it didn’t last long after it had changed hands. I don’t know what happened to the civilians who worked with us.
Following the war, our movements were restricted and a joint force of British soldiers and Arab Cydeff, a sort of local militia, guarded the barracks. Some of us were able to spend time in Malta, on R & R, where many of us had girl or pen friends. I had three girl friends whose names I still remember, Rose Borg, Doris Grima and Doris Attord. Bets were taken on whether I would return from R & & late as my two predecessors had missed their flights and had been charged and given regimental fines. I got back perfectly well on time but was still wheeled in front of the CO, only to be told that if I had got back late, I would have been locked up. Hmm. Some faith!
It was a diminishing number who saw 1967 out. Only a handful celebrated the New Year in the Craftsman’s Arms, or what was left of it. My posting to the Royal Military Academy came through (I was chuffed at first because I thought R.M.A. stood for Royal Malta Artillery and it looked like a posting to Valetta was on the cards). However, my return home in January only saw me spending a week in the hospital at Sandhurst with the flu, or malaria, or both. I did not miss Benghazi nor welcome its parting gift. However, I was surprised to find out that neither my parents nor any of my friends knew that British Forces had been involved in those hostilities of June 1967.
Since my discharge, I have only met one or two people who were in North Africa during that period. One swore blind that he had the ship’s bell that stood on the NAAFI veranda and doubled up as a fire bell. I remember that bell though not the name of the vessel from which it came. The REME Museum in Arborfield has neither records of 62 Station Workshops nor any memories of past residents. I have my tankard engraved “For Services to Civilians, Benghazi, June 1967” presented with the heartfelt thanks of the civilians we rescued and put up during that period. They wanted to build us a swimming pool but the powers felt that it would not benefit us (the powers obviously knew that we would soon be withdrawing). So, we got no medal for our bravery. Mind you, you can’t drink beer out of a medal!
I decided to capture some memories in book-novel form and began writing a few years ago but research was made difficult by the lack of contacts from that era. It was what prompted my visit to the REME museum, only to be told that no information existed there either. I still make the odd attempt at contacting those who may have been in Benghazi during 1967, but we seem to be a forgotten group. It was only recently that, with the advent of the various “re-united” web sites that I thought my research might start again. So, if anybody was out there during that period and has memories to share, or has photos that can be downloaded and I can send to the museum in Arborfield, I will be pleased to hear from them.
In the meantime, keep the memories coming and help to maintain some contact with each other. It is good to supply the archives of time with the many experiences of those who protected the nation in its outposts or just had a wild time growing up.
My Regards
Jim Greenslade
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