condensed master

Will Bonner
them away. Between watches, he would spend most of the time lying on his back,
to ease the waves of nausea resulting from the motion of the ship. He felt
constantly ill, finding even performing the most routine tasks an effort.
The violent excursions could be likened to that of the Big Dipper at a
fairground without the benefit of being able to get off. It just keeps going twentyfour
hours a day, and for as many days as it takes to clear the weather. The act of
getting out of his bunk to start work was always a torturous ordeal.
About one day's sailing from Bombay the weather abated, skies were clear,
and the air felt fresh. What a relief it was to be able to open the portholes again
and feel the fresh circulation of air in the cabin! After the ordeal of the rough
crossing, the sides of Will's stomach were literally sticking together for lack of
food, and it was almost like Christmas to be able to sit down to a full meal again.
The activity on board intensified, as hundreds of soldiers began to prepare for
disembarkation. Will usually kept away from the troop decks during this period,
but on that particular day he had decided to take a walk on the aft deck. Having
had a good meal, and with the ship now in a calm sea, and on an even keel, his
nausea was rapidly disappearing.
The decks were crowded, but Will managed to find himself a space next to
one of the air vents and sat down, using the vent as a back rest. Four soldiers sat
only a few feet away engaged in conversation. The nearest one turned to Will.
"Where is the ship going when it leaves Bombay?"
"I don't know for certain, but I think we are picking up troops in Bombay and
taking them home, via South Africa."
The ship berthed at Victoria docks. Will always watched the troops
disembarking, and this occasion was no exception. They were continuously filing
down the gangways, assembling on the quay and marching to lorries or trains that
were waiting to transport them to their various destinations. The shouting of
military commands echoed around the quay, accompanied by the sound of army
boots on the hard concrete surface. Someone called out. "There's Wingate!"
Will ran forward as far as he could go to get a better look. The contingent was
small, only about 50 selected men. Colonel Wingate was dressed as though he had
just got back from the jungle, wearing khaki baggy shorts, a shirt and a pair of well
worn army sandals. Orde Charles Wingate rising to the rank of Major-General
was a dynamic but unorthodox military leader in world war 2. His exploits behind
48