We disembarked from the Abossa at about 11.a.m. on Monday December 29th and we were taken to the R.A.F. Takoradi camp just off the coast. The camp itself was quite smart in appearance and we were mustered together in groups. Each group was taken to a billet, but here they were not called billets, they went under the name of bungalows. My group was in bungalow 22. It was quite nice inside but at the end of the day, it was simply a well-made long hut which had been reinforced to stand the effects of Africa’s occasional tornado in the rainy season. Hung all around the inside were panels of fine mesh to provide protection against mosquito’s, with further mosquito protection on the outside. Each bed had its own mosquito net which when let down would be tucked under all sides and ends of the mattress. We put our kit into wooden lockers alongside the bed and by then we were feeling the effects of the heat and humidity of the place. The humidity was like a cloak hanging around around the body and it felt like an invisible weight on the body all the time.

We were told not to swim before 4 p.m. as the beach was then out of bounds. By the time we had settled it was after 4 p.m. and so we decided to go for a swim and also have a look around. We went through the back part of the camp down a path, which led down a sloping part of the coast on to the beach. About 200 yards out from the shore was a large wooden raft, which had been anchored to the seabed. This section of the beach was for R.A.F. personnel and the raft had been placed there as a diving platform. In the bay itself was the wreck of a ship with the top part of the deck showing above the water, we later found out that this was what was left of an Italian cocoa carrying ship, which had caught fire and sunk in the shallow water in the 1930’s. What a relief it was to swim out to the raft and do some diving and swimming. The water was crystal clear with lots of fish in brilliant colours around; this was indeed a blessing after being cooped up on the ships.

We were back in camp in time for our first meal, which was OK. A normal meal would consist of perhaps a local alternative to mashed potatoes, local boiled vegetables and chicken. On a huge table there were two mammoth size bowls each day, full of fresh grapefruit and this soon became my favourite part of the meal. I would get stuck into two or three grapefruits a day. (A habit that I never lost – as I still make a point of having fresh grapefruit each day – but now I only have the one!).

After the meal we were told to report to a big building on the camp, where we were given the low-down on what we were here for and also the day-to-day rules of camp life, outlining all the positive and negative effects of living here. We were told it was normally an 18-month spell of duty at this camp before returning to the U.K. This was a much shorter posting than most, due to the conditions within this area, as health risks such as Malaria, Black Water Fever, and Yellow Fever were rife. We were told that the Quinine, which would be given to us each morning at breakfast, in an effort to ward off these diseases, had to be taken there and then.
Being the transport section we were informed that when a convoy of cargo ships arrived in the bay from the U.K. they had to be off loaded by a huge crane situated at the end of a small dock. These cargo ships were carrying fighter plane sections i.e. fuselage, wings, engines and other various parts, all encased in huge boxes. These large wooden boxes needed to be taken to the aerodrome, approximately 3 miles further inland, where they would be offloaded and eventually the parts assembled and the plane flown to the middle-east to help in the war campaign. We were to be responsible for transporting these plane sections.

The officer made a point that, when the convoy is in the bay we would be working 24hrs a day in shifts because it was imperative that the ships were off-loaded and turned round as quickly as possible. This applied to personnel at the aerodrome on assembly duty also. The pilots could then get them to the war zone in the middle-east campaign as soon as possible. We were informed that after the convoy was cleared and had left, our time was our own. The officer said, "there will be no drill duties and you will be allowed to visit other local spots along the coast. A group will be able to hire a R.A.F. van for the day with one proviso that you must be back in camp at a specified time at the end of the day. You will be able to order a packed lunch – as it is not advisable to eat or drink anything made outside the camp."

The small dock allowed one ship to moor alongside at a time. One side of the dock comprised of warehouses and at the far end was a moveable crane, which ran the length of the dock on embedded rails. The crane blocked off one end of the dock. When a ship had docked this created a passage to which there was only one entrance. Between the shipside and the warehouses there was no room for a large vehicle to turn around and so one can appreciate that a vehicle with a trailer attached would have to be reversed from the entrance of the dock down to the side of the ship, a matter of around 500-700 yards. Transportation of this cargo was by means of a Fordson unit and a 24 ft trailer with a 17 ft long ‘V’ shaped tow bar. The trailer was called an Allan Taylor unit, which I assume was the name of the maker. Obviously they were ideal for carrying bulk aircraft parts but I started to wonder how many of us had experience of reversing a single unit with 41 ft of flat trailer and tow bar attached.
We were told that from the following day we would be able to practice reversing the trailer and unit to a point alongside an imaginary ship in dock. The next convoy was expected around a months time so we had some time to practice our driving skills, We were told not to worry, if any one of us was unable to manage the reversing part, we had a group of native dockers who would uncouple the trailer and manoeuvre it into position by hand alongside the ship.

We spent the next few days practising reversing with the units and trailers down this narrow road between the storage buildings and the edge of the dock. It was quite difficult because if you were not careful it was easy to jack knife the unit and trailer and when this happened it meant that you had to drive forward and reline the unit and trailer into a straight position before trying again. After two or three days I finally got the hang of it and was able to reverse unit and trailer to a position alongside my imaginary ship. Most of the lads also managed it, but a few found it very difficult. The days and weeks passed by until the convoy arrived and anchored in the bay. Each ship moored in turn alongside the dock. From then on we were mad busy night and day, off loading each ship in turn. Two or three of the lads who hadn’t mastered the reversing technique were helped by the native dockers. The huge wooden boxes were quickly removed to the aerodrome and duly off loaded, it was a case of then returning back and joining the vehicle queue to get reloaded. The convoy comprised of around 15 to 20 merchant ships. I don’t recall how long it took us to empty all of the ships but working in shifts it seemed to take a lot of days and nights before the job was completed. We were finally glad to see the convoy disappear over the horizon. It would be another two or three months before the next one arrived. ‘Thank God’.

In between convoys we spent most of our time (after 4p.m.) on the beach, but night time was the worst, we were practically eaten alive by mosquitoes and were glad to get back in the bungalows. At bedtime when you let the mossie net down and tucked the ends under the mattress and then crept into bed you had to make sure that you hadn’t trapped a mossie inside with you or you were in lumber. Each two people in the bungalow could hire a boy to wash clothes and look after the bedding and make up the beds etc, so my mate and myself indulged as it only cost a few coppers at the end of each week. The boy’s name was Theo (He was called a boy but he was actually a young man) we grew quite fond of him because he was reliable and a friendly type.

Life carried on as usual but by this time the R.A.F. hospital was full with malaria cases and other diseases. Unfortunately some of my colleagues did not make it. We sometimes followed the vehicle involved to the R.A.F. Cemetery to show our respect. Incidentally I was one of the minorities who managed to keep clear of malaria. In my own mind rightly or wrongly I put this down to my love of grapefruit, which I ate at every meal and sometimes in between meals.

One particular day when Dave Haslam from Manchester and myself were down on the beach having a swim and sitting on the sand talking, one of the local boys came up to us and asked did we want to go out in his canoe, which was simply half a tree trunk hollowed out and two flat boards nailed in for seats. It was such a lovely calm day and the sea was like a millpond, so we gave him a couple of coins and he pushed it in the water and gave us a couple of paddles. We expected the canoe to leak but it remained quite dry, so off we went. With our cigarettes and lighters at the bottom of the canoe we made off towards the wreck of the Italian cocoa ship.

As the tide was out at that time the ship was showing the rusted top deck above water level. When we reached it the sea was so calm that we decided to paddle around the back of the ship. We had just got about half way round the back, when all of a sudden, it felt like a giant hand had grabbed the canoe from under the water and turned it seaward and suddenly we started moving at a fast rate out to sea. We realised we had been caught in a very strong current, so we grabbed the paddles and as fast as we could we started to paddle on one side in an effort to pull out of the current but it was impossible.

Realising this was not working we eventually gave up and took stock of our situation to see where the current was taking us. We were being driven towards the rocky headland on the right hand side of the bay. We could see the rocks in the distance and the waves breaking over them, at that time things didn’t look so bad. As we got nearer to the headland canoe was moving faster and faster and the waves were looking much bigger than we originally thought. When we were about 200 yards from contact, we realised that the waves were a colossal 20ft high and crashing down on the rocks. I just managed to say to Dave, "We will be lucky to get out of this" as we hit the rocks. I remember hearing the canoe breaking up and then I was hit by the wave and flung underwater. I struggled to get my head above water to get some air. I just managed to get one breath of air when the next wave hit me and down I went again. I remember feeling pain in my feet and legs but that was ignored in the battle to get my head above water each time I was hit by a wave. It seemed to go on for ages, being battered down by the waves, smashed against the rocks and fighting to stay upright and get air. Fortunately I was being flung further away from the rocky headland and the waves were eventually decreasing in strength. After struggling to fight against the power of the sea and keep my head above water I finally found a solid surface of rocks below my feet and was able to stand up in the swirling water.

I looked around for Dave and saw he was lying a few yards from me on the rocks of the headland. I shouted across to see if he was all right. To my relief he moved, then spoke, he said he thought he had broken his ankle and was very bruised and battered. I found that I could not put my right foot down and when I examined myself, I saw that black needle spines had gone through my foot. I remember feeling the pain when I was struggling for breath in the huge waves and also I remember seeing a type of ‘needle plant’ growing on the rocks, forming a complete bed of spikes. As I had pushed up from the rocks in an effort to get some air, these needles had gone into the bottom of my foot and out through the top and being very brittle had just snapped off leaving quite a lot embedded in my foot. I was also very bruised and full of cuts. Dave hadn’t escaped the needles either.
We were a sorry sight as we crawled over the rocks and onto the beach. We lay there for a while recovering and getting our breath back. We began to realise just what could have happened if the waves had thrown us head first into the rocks or we hadn’t been able to get up for air in time. As we started to hobble off the beach we met the owner of the canoe moaning about his loss, we told him to clear off - but not in those exact words.
We spent several hours in hospital where the needles were removed from our feet, and our cuts and bruises were attended to. Dave got his ankle sorted out and a few weeks later we were as ‘right as rain’ but I don’t think either of us will forget just how lucky we were to have come out of that alive. This incident affected not only Dave and I, as from then onwards going beyond the wreck was out of bounds to all personnel.