Leaving England, 1943

Two years after arriving in England, we boarded a troop ship headed for the middle east as part of a mass convoy. The ship was American, and called the "John Ericsson". It wasn't as big as the "Andes" on which we had travelled from Canada to England, but I think it had just as many troops aboard. Every inch of space on that ship was used up. It seemed to have been designed with troop transport in mind, as there were no frills or luxuries, just whatever was needed to get the job done.

It was late fall, the same time of year we had sailed on the Andes, so we were expecting another rough ride. But we got a pleasant surprise. The sea was as calm as a mill pond during the entire trip.

Our convoy moved at the best speed of the slowest ship in the group, about 16 knots per hour. The ships employed a zig-zag course, changing direction about every two minutes. This was to make it more difficult for an enemy submarine to zero in on us as a target for one of their torpedoes.

Each time the ship changed direction, it was quite noticeable, and if you happened to be off balance at that moment, it could cause you to stumble a bit. The O.C. thought this was a good time to get all our inoculations up to date. IT would also help us pass the time. So there we were, lined up on the deck getting our needles as the ship snaked through bobbing sea. Just as the Medical Officer (M.O.) was thrusting the needle into my arm, the ship changed direction. The M.O. lost his balance and his needle hit me high on the shoulder bone and bent like a fish hook. When he pulled the needle out, it tore the flesh and skin, bleeding pretty good. He said "Whoops! I've never done that before!" They put on a bandage and gave me a shot in the other arm.

We put in more time attending lectures and sharing stories. Everyday we went through the abandon ship drill. Our quarters were at the front of the ship, down at about water level. It took us 3 or 4 minutes to get to deck from there through some very narrow passages. I'm sure a few of us had a few anxious moments the first few times we went through the drill.

The days passed by with beautiful sunny weather, and we passed through the Straight of Gibraltar (STROG) about 4:00 in the afternoon. We could see the activity in the Fort, Parson's Lodge, on the Spanish side as we went by.


Our second night in the Mediterranean Sea, the German Luftwaffe found us. They made a few bombing raids on the convoy. They hit and disabled on our our hospital ships, but an escort vessel got a line on her, and towed the ship into the Port of Algiers. Unfortunately, before it could be unloaded, it sank in the harbour, along with much needed medical supplies for troops in Italy.

When we departed from England, our destination was the Port of Algiers. But during our eight days at sea, the situation had changed. The Allies captured Naples, so we were directed there for our disembarkation. We marched through Naples to the outskirts of the city. From there, we boarded trucks that took us to a small village near the base of Mount Vesuvius. Still on the move, we bivouacked until we received the equipment needed to function as an engineer unit in action.

For shelter, we lived in pup-tents. The rainfall could be quite heavy at that time of year, so we were initiated immediately into the mud of Italy. It would be our nemesis, during the wet seasons, over our next 19 months in Italy.

We had our first casualty early in the morning on our first day. Everyone was just starting to stir about, when over came the Luftwaffe. They strafed our position pretty good, and "Smitty", from our troop, received a flesh wound in the buttocks. It was a month before he returned to us from the hospital. Smitty's only complaint was he would never be able to show the scar from the wound he had received in action, while serving his country during the war years in Italy.

Sailing the Andes to England, 1941

We sailed to England in 1941 on a British ship named the "Andes". Built in Belfast, she was 714 feet long. It was third in size to all British ships; only the Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were longer. When we boarded, the ship had not made its civilian "maiden voyage" yet. It was used for troop transport service as soon as construction was completed. Andes was beautiful and luxourious. It had everything...two swimming pools, wonderful lounges, boutiques. I don't know how many troops were onboard during our crossing, but I would estimate more than 3,000 at that time. In addition, there was a large cargo of food and supplies on board for troops in England.

We left Halifax in a convoy of other ships heading to England. Part of my training in Canada included a three-week course in anti-aircraft tactics at Point Petre, Ontario. Those of us who took this course were detailed to man machine guns mounted on the ship's railings on each deck. We would do two hours on duty, four hours off. We did this for the eight days it took to cross the Atlantic. Once during each shift, we cleared our gun because of all the salty sea spray. to do this, we would fire at a 45 degree angle into the water. Every fifth shell was a tracer, and when these struck the water, they would glance off in all directions.

Three days out we were in the roughest weather imaginable. The waves were valleys and mountains. The convoy became widely scattered. The ocean tossed the ship around like a feather in a wind storm. It was difficult to move around on deck. The once good thing, was that we knew submarines couldn't operate in those seas.

On the ship, most of us slept in hammocks. It was quite a sight when I'd make my way to our quarters to see all those hammocks swinging in unison. It was quite a challenge to get into one with all the motion of the stormy sea. Even with the rough going, the abandon ship drill could be called at any time. This was to avert panic if we should be called upon to abandon the ship, and to be familiar with procedure if Andes was in distress and we had to abandon her.

Most of us didn't care for the boiled fish and hard boiled eggs served at meal times in the mess hall. We would buy things to eat from the stores on the ship and make do with that.

All who were on this voyage had an experience that would be in their memories as long as they would live.

Willie Worsefield, England 1942

Willie came from Sault St. Marie, Ontario. When he enlisted, he became part of the First Field Squadron, Royal Canadian Engineers (RCE), and was a dispatch rider working for Headquarter's Troop. Willie liked his job, but he loved to be out on that Norton motorcycle going wherever duty called for him to go. Willie was always cheerful.

On a morning in early May 1942, a bit before daylight, the whole of southern England was blanketed with heavy fog. Willie had just departed on a dispatch mission. It wasn't long after he left I got a call there was an accident. Our driver, Murray, and I arrived at the scene quickly. It was Willie. He had been rounding a curve and a British Army truck coming from the opposite direction collided with him. The motorcycle lay twisted in front of the truck, and Willie was the other twisted bundle at the side of the road.

He was conscious and as I checked him over, I spoke to him the whole time. Willie repeated "Don't leave me Doc". The flesh was scraped from the underside of both arms from wrists to elbows, and they were badly fractured. Both legs were fractured, and he must have had severe internal injuries.

I bandaged his arms, then applied splints to both arms and both legs. I got him a stretcher, covered him with blankets, and we carried him onto a truck headed for a British hospital. Because of Willie's terrible injuries, I did not expect him to survive. I never saw Willie again.

When I went back to look at the bike, the handlebars that are usually flat were twisted into a "V" shape. The gas tank that is usually round had a perfect impression of Willie's behind on it. This was evidence of the force with which he was hit.

About fourteen months later, we had been transfered out of England to Italy. I received a special letter. It was from Willie. He was home still recovering from his injuries. Willie thanked me, from his heart, for what I had done for him that foggy morning in May.