The 6 A.O.D. (Sixth Army Ordnance Depot), at Dekheila, (pronounced as in tequila, if you know that) about 12 or 14 miles west of the city of Alexandria was the British Captured Equipment Depot for the Middle East. [...] Artillery and vehicles were handled at a different location a few miles away, though there was a stray 88mm sitting beside the small arms shop, with 16 of the nicest, newest Continental truck tires on it — tires the black market would pay $200.00 apiece for in Cairo. And me with no tractor (how did I ever get off on this tangent?).
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Guards were all over the place, either Indians who spent all their spare time polishing their Enfields and leather bandoliers, or various breeds of “colonials” who to me looked like jungle blacks who had the spears in their hands replaced with fixed-bayoneted rifles.
Most of them knew no English except the words “Inglis Solja.” Their challenge was like something you hear in the zoo at feeding time, but you had better freeze when you heard it, even if you had both feet in the air jumping off a truck. They loved those bayonets.
White British soldiers swore they could see at night and I am inclined to agree. I know I have been called at a distance in pitch darkness and had to identify myself, while the familiar Britishers with me went unchallenged.
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There was one very large warehouse used solely for storing unwanted Italian swords, sabers, bayonets and knives. Thousands of each were neatly piled or stored in chests piled high on one another, and the variety was countless. Italy never declared anything obsolete. Bayonets and sabers 80 years old had been taken—swords of our Civil War period. Models of every type existed. Few had good steel and since there was not much call for extra bayonets, these stayed here and collected dust.
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Although I was a “T-corporal” (Technician 5th Grade) I was considered a guest and allowed to live with the sergeants, eat in their mess, etc. This was extremely important. The Sergeant’s Mess had their own dining hall, with adjoining bar. With a full stock of liquid refreshments they used the best Scotch for bar whisky. The corporals and privates were allowed only beer in their messes.
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When any British Non-Commissioned Officer works, it’s news; when Sergeants and W.O.’s stand at benches, it’s unbelievable. Something like seeing American Majors and Lt. Colonels greasing trucks.
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Under the British system, a would-be armorer puts in four years learning how. He is taught not only all weapons up to 75mm guns but also blacksmithing, tinsmithing, bicycle repair and a general mechanics course. Under the armorers’ training he learns some pretty fancy gunsmithing, working with all sorts of civilian pistols and shotguns as well as machine guns and rifles and making broken and missing parts by hand. One year of the training period is spent in an arsenal or armory as a regular workman, although of course not in a single production job.
Practically all of this time was devoted to the Lee-Enfield rifle and emphasis was placed on speed of work. I have seen some of these armorers spin screwdrivers in each hand disassembling weapons, working very fast, but never interrupting their conversation which usually was thousands of miles away in subject.
The officer in charge, a Lieutenant (First) was called by all “Mister.” And I never saw anybody salute anybody around the place.
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This was extremely shocking to us three Americans, since in the American forces, under the same set-up, the commanding officer would have been a Lt. Col.
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The above sentences are not meant to be funny.