A BRIEF HISTORY OF LIFE IN REME

A Craftsman’s Story 1948 to I953

 Contributed by: Phil KEMPSTER

Chapter Fourteen.

Back To Work At 221 Vehicle Battalion Workshops 1952

And another unexpected adventure

My life soon returned to normal and I was back doing what I do best, driving and road testing vehicles. It was now well into 1952 and I had only a few months to serve here before being sent back to the U K. It was about this time that we started to get the new Land Rover vehicles, they were to replace some of the older types of lightweight trucks. I used to help R.E.M.E. Inspectorate Vehicle Mechanic Inspectors road test these when I was not on driving duties, it was great driving these very modern up to date trucks after some of the old ex WW2 types like Morris Commercials, Bedford 15cwt, Bedford QL personnel carriers, etc. that I had driven over the years.

It was about this time that I was to experience another exciting period during my time in Malaya, my C/O Capt Balsam called me to his office to ask me to drive a new Fordson 15Cwt truck to a place called Port Dickson, way up country on the west coast of Malaya, and hand the vehicle over to the R.E.M.E. Inspectorate driver Cfn Whalley, an old mate of mine from my early days in Singapore. He was the driver of a team of Inspectors based at workshops in Kluang and he had written his truck off in an accident, fortunately no one was injured. He was billeted in a Malay Regiment barracks at Port Dickson close by near the coast. Anyway when I picked myself up from the floor he gave me my instructions. I was to take Cfn Tooke as my escort, report to the R.A.O.C. armoury and draw out 303 rifles and 50 rounds of ammunition each and collect the new truck from the compound, fill up with fuel and report to the police check point early the next day to join a convoy with armoured escorts to take us up country, as near as possible to our destination. We arrived at the check point at the crack of dawn to find that the convoy and escort had already set off, the police advised us to return to our unit and report back there the next day. I told them that this vehicle had to be delivered that day and I would try to catch up with the convoy before the next check point, they agreed with that so off we went at a rate of knots. We met quite a few convoys going the opposite way, they gave us a wave as we flashed past, there was no sign of anything ahead of us, just a straight road ahead with rubber and palm trees on either side and the occasional small settlements of kampongs with groups of local Malays waving to us as we went by. We came to some road signs to Kota Tinge and Mersing so I knew we were going in the right direction. I had planned a route so, with fingers crossed, we carried on. There was no sign of any check points. After a few more miles the countryside began to open up to areas of open spaces with scrubland on both sides of the road so I decided to stop and stretch our legs and take a couple of photographs. So out we got out with our rifles at the ready and had few minutes to take stock of our situation.

Myself on the way to Port Dickson, armed to the teeth with rifle and 50 rounds of ammo. 1952	Having a breather on the way to Port Dickson 1952

Craftsman Tooke with the Fordson 15Cwt I was delivering to the R.E.M.E Inspectorate at Kluang 1952.

We agreed there was no point in turning back so off we went towards Kota Tinge and the unknown, we passed through more small villages and rubber plantations and coconut palms on either side, the villagers waving and looking quite surprised to see a lone army truck passing by. It was during this part of the journey that the engine started to cough and hold back a bit, poor old Cfn. Tooke went a bit white and looked quite worried. I assured him that everything was okay, the fuel was running out of one tank and I had to switch over to the reserve tank. This I did and the engine soon started to run smoothly again. We were soon on our way again heading towards Malaca and Muar to join the road to Port Dickson and Kluang. We arrived on the outskirts of Malaca, this was the largest town we had seen since leaving Johore Baru. I found the turn off for Muar and after a few miles the road came to an end and facing us was a wide fast flowing river with a small wooden jetty. I thought Christ what do I do now? Then we spotted a Malay chap waving to us from the opposite bank shouting, we assumed, for us to stay put. Neither of us could understand a word of Malay. Anyway this chap started to pull a rope tied to a platform and this came slowly towards us. I thought bloody hell, this truck will never fit on that but with a few nods and smiles he convinced me it would and to my relief it did but only just.

Crossing the river near Batu Pahat on the way to Port Dickson.

Crossing the river on the way to Muar. If I look nervous it’s because I am.

Anyway off we went rocking and swaying across to the opposite bank, and with lots of thanks and smiles we rejoined the road to head towards Port Dickson, this road was quite narrow and wound its way through small settlements with bamboo huts and small shops on either side with the local men, women and kids waving and looking rather surprised to see a lone army truck driving past. On we went through miles of rubber plantations and palm groves and eventually we got a view of the sea through the trees and a few miles further on we had views of the most beautiful beaches I had ever seen. I knew then that we were nearing our destination Port Dickson at last. I found the camp quite easily, it was a large camp belonging to the Malay Regiment and close to the R.E.M.E. workshops at Kluang. I felt very pleased with myself for completing this journey but, on reflection, no way would I attempt to do it again, what trouble and danger I could have got us into does not bear thinking about. We checked in and my old mate Cfn. Whalley and his pal Lofty were there to greet us and show us to our billet, this was in a very large room, enough for at least twenty people and just the four of us sleeping in it. Looking through the windows we had a view of a small aircraft runway in the centre of the camp, this was used for light reconnaissance aircraft and helicopter operations in this area.

The air strip at the camp in Port Dickson.

I handed over the new truck to Cfn. Whalley and we were soon settled in, after a good meal and a few drinks in the N.A.A.F.I. We settled down for the night, me and Cfn. Tooke were more than ready for a good kip after that journey.

Next morning I thought I had better ring our C/O Capt Balsam and let him know we had arrived safely. I also asked him nicely if we could spend a couple of days here, I think this was on a Friday, and he said that was okay but we had to be back on Monday, what a great C/O he was. We spent the next two days swimming and larking about on the beach most of the time. During the day it was fantastic, in the evenings we went boozing in the club on camp and woke up with sore heads, Tooksey and I could not keep up with Whalley and Lofty they were a right pair of boozers.

Whalley, Tooksie and Lofty on the beach at Port Dickson.	Tooksie on the beach at Port Dickson.
Craftsman Tooke stood with Whalley’s damaged truck, Port Dickson. 1952
Me at the barracks we stayed in at Port Dickson 1952

All good things come to an end and early Monday morning we said our goodbyes and Whalley took us to the railway station in Kluang for us to start our journey back to Johore Baru, I was not looking forward to this at all. This train was often attacked by the communist forces on its way through the jungle areas of Malaya to and from Singapore. The train eventually arrived with clouds of steam and screeching of brakes, we slung our rifles over our shoulders and clambered aboard. It was an uneventful journey, the carriages were packed full of people and troops getting on and off at various stations along the way. We arrived safely at Johore Station There was no one there to meet us so I decided that we would hitch-hike a lift back to Majeede Barracks that was quite a few miles away, much too far to walk. We started walking in the direction of the camp, tired and weary, hoping for a lift. After a few minutes walking a Land Rover stopped and the driver, a Ghurkha, asked us if we were going to Majeede barracks. I said yes and we hopped in the back and off we went, I don’t know how long this chap had been driving for he did not seem fully in control of the vehicle, and as we approached the main road that ran through the town of Johore Baru which was quite busy with locals crossing the road to and from the stalls and shops, he made no attempt to slow down so we braced ourselves and waited for the inevitable to happen, he ran straight into some people that were crossing. We jumped out fearing the worst and there was a Malay youth laid in the road groaning with people crowding round jabbering. I did not think he was that badly injured but needed to be got to hospital quickly. I shouted to someone with the help of sign language to send for an ambulance, the Ghurkha just sat in the vehicle while all this was going on. There was us with rifles slung over our shoulders with people getting excited, we had not a clue what they were saying. What I did next I will never forgive myself for, I shouted to Cfn. Tooke “Let’s get out of here.” And this we did. The only excuse I have for this action I took was that we had been travelling all day on a bloody awful train journey from Kluang, we were tired hungry and feeling terrible and we just wanted to get back to camp. After about a half-mile or so we heard a beep beep. It was our C/O and a driver in my truck, they had been to the station looking for us and he was happy to see us, but not as pleased as we were to see him. I never mentioned the incident we had been involved in, I don’t know why, but the next day I was sorry I hadn’t. We got up next morning and were summoned to the C/Os office and he told us that we were to report to the Military Police Provo Sergeants office in the Barracks. I thought to my self, Kempster you are in deep trouble now, we got the biggest bollocking of our lives for leaving the scene of an accident and leaving a Ghurkha driver who could not speak any Malay language and very little English. Fortunately the youth that had been knocked down was recovering in hospital. I took full responsibility for this as I was the senior soldier and should have known better. Due to the strain we had been under that day and my past record being good, no further action was being taken, so with our tails between our legs and thinking ourselves lucky we went back to our duties. I have had many sleepless nights thinking about this incident in my career as a soldier and still think about it to this day.

Well life goes on and my time In Malaya would soon be over so I was soon back driving the C/O about and taking his wife on shopping trips to Orchard Road cold store in Singapore etc. helping the Vehicle Mechanics road test vehicles, servicing and cleaning my truck, running the lads to Changi Beach at week ends. I also took some of them to the Tiger Balm Gardens in Haw Par Villa, this was a large ornamental garden set in the hillside a few miles from the R.E.M.E. Base Workshops. I had been to this place many times when I was stationed there, it was a beautiful garden full of ornate Chinese temples and dioramas of past historical events from centuries ago. I have many photographs of this place but unfortunately they are black and white.

Published: 1st November 2007

Chapter Fifteen.