“After much manoeuvring we steamed through the harbour gateway and saw the most beautiful sight. Against a background of dark hills and right on the water’s edge stood Durban. I think you may be able to visualise it properly if I call it a miniature New York. Skyscrapers and beautifully coloured houses, so neat and compact, no smoke or dirt. The very streets as we drew nearer seemed good enough to eat from.

As we approached the dock, everyone was on tiptoe, whispering excitedly. Pretty girls in pretty frocks walking along the sea front. Lashings of fresh fruit which people seemed only too pleased to throw up at us. This indeed seemed a paradise and so it was, as the next three weeks showed us. We eagerly crowded the rails, equipment already packed, the multitude of fatigues below decks had already been hurried through and we were all too anxious to set foot on this wonderful South Africa, of which, when a boy, all the stories I ever read were concerning. We had heard much of the hospitality shown to British troops passing through South Africa and were ready, after nearly a month at sea, for a little pleasure. My arm by this time was quite fit and I was feeling absolutely tops.

After decking, tying up etc., we had to wait for an hour or so before being allowed to disembark. When we did so, it was “fall in”, “fall out, “move over here, no here” and so on. Eventually someone sorted things out and we marched off towards the dock gates. I can’t remember the route we took. It was hot and we were loaded. However, after a march of some four miles we arrived at a warehouse, scrupulously clean and loaned by some benevolent factor to British troops. This was the “Woolsheds”– Congella. It was a large place. Two storeys. In the lower one, bales of cotton and the binding machinery were kept. The whole regiment plus nearly a battery of anti-tanks were billeted upstairs – roughly 1,200 men, that will perhaps give you some idea of the size of the place. The advance party had chalked lanes for us, so not much time was wasted in settling in. I bagged a decent spot with Ted Mather on my right and, I think, George Lee on the other side. We dropped everything with a rush and dashed downstairs, along the drive and onto the main road, buying oranges, pineapples, bananas, ice-cream and chocolate from the little black vendors – not because we particularly wanted them, but because we hadn’t seen the like for ages.

The order was passed around that we were not allowed out unless we were wearing battledress – these were in our kitbags, so we had to wait for the lorries bringing them up. Whenever a truck did appear, everyone dashed wildly and the little shouts and cries of pleasure as men found their kits reminded me of a group of schoolboys. Mine arrived on one of the last trucks together with Ted’s. It was quite dark by that time, so we decided to spend the night indoors, made beds, sorted our kits and talked excitedly of the day and how long we should stay in Durban.

Next morning we had a muster parade about eleven and the old man, Colonel Hill, gave us the “dope”. We were to stay for two or three weeks, little work, maximum enjoyment, cleanliness and neatness to create a good impression and the other usual “bull”. Work finished that day and every other at noon and after a hasty tiffin we were off.

I went out with Geoff, we hitchhiked, an easy process, into the city and spent the whole day just wandering around. It was wonderful to be able just to buy what you wanted, prices were quite moderate. I remember though going into a high-class confectioner with Geoff and admiring a large box of expensive looking chocolates and we were just about to enquire the price when an elderly chap bought them and, with hardly a word, thrust them into my hands and went out. They were lovely.

During the course of the day, we discovered the Victoria League Club for all Allied troops and we went inside and found, I should think, a hundred small tables with four chairs to each. We found an empty one, scanned the menu, discovered we could have practically anything, ordered bacon, eggs, sausage, mash, coffee and fresh fruit and cream to finish with and were astounded to find that the whole bill came to 1s 2d.

The waitresses were all well-bred, South-African girls who belonged to some organisation similar to our WVS. They worked purely voluntarily and certainly put some hours in. It did a bloke good, morally, mentally and physically to have a meal in there. The kindly smiles and words of the girls and the wholesome food. There was no flirting at all but certainly no standoffishness. The place too was scrupulously clean. Upstairs were billiard and ping-pong tables, dartboards and reading rooms, concert room and hot baths.

Newspaper and chocolate kiosk at the entrance. It was a delightful place, and many was the hour I spent there. Bus trips were free to troops and I often used to spend an evening alone, driving along my favourite route from the club to the zoological gardens round which I loved to walk and then back home again.

The gardens were about the size of Buile Hill Park, but far prettier. Aviaries filled with the brightest coloured birds, an elephant, snakes and so on. There was a pretty little café in which I often used to go, the proprietor, a genial man, and I were quite friendly.

There were lots of excellent cinemas. My favourite being the Playhouse. It was a massive place, the front section being a café, serving all sorts of drinks, in which, incidentally, I met some fine chaps, the majority simply wouldn’t hear of you paying for drinks. I had some good nights there. The cinema itself was excellently seated, the apparatus was good, but the most striking thing was the ceiling. It was painted to resemble the night sky. The blue shades beautifully blended, the stars and moon making it most realistic. I was deceived at first. I saw some first-class films there, the most outstanding one being Tortilla Flat, with Spencer Tracey.

Although, quite honestly, I was never drunk, I was merry often enough. I frequented the Royal, a most magnificent pub on the main square and drank brandy and ginger. It was pleasant to drink in there, cool, shady with a lovely view over the Marine Gardens. Invariably crowded but I always managed to squeeze in.

I only went into two of the other soldiers’ canteens; into the YMCA, with Paddy Chadwick; then BSM that was quite a pretty place although not to be compared with the Victoria. The other place I went to was a small church canteen, which for the tea, sandwiches and cakes it provided, never charged a penny. I only went there when broke and felt very guilty for it.

The Marine Parade was a fine stretch of road, quite straight and very wide. The sea on one side and modern buildings, flats, banks etc. on the other. I have never seen anything quite like it before: on the seaward side a long sloping lawn stretches from the road to the beach, there is a first-class open swimming pool to which I went once. We often went into the sea until one day three of our blokes had to be pulled out, that put an end to that. Geoff and I were on the bus one day on a trip down the Marine Parade to find the Jewish Club, which we had heard was pretty good, when suddenly the bloke sitting in front of us turned round and asked us to dine with him. We, of course, accepted and alighted with him and his wife at the next stop. Their flat (most Durbanites seem to use them) was very cosy. He showed us around before dinner.

We didn’t spend all our time pursuing the various pleasures, as I’ve said, we worked each day until twelve, excepting, of course, Saturdays and Sundays. Our work consisted of lectures, marching and rifle drill. We all entered into it wholeheartedly. I was fortunate inasmuch as I only did three duties whilst there. We usually spent an hour each afternoon scrubbing our clothes and equipment.

I spent my 23rd birthday with Geoff and we dined very well – had a few drinks and went to the Playhouse. Very quiet indeed. We first experienced here the complaint we knew later as “gippy tummy”, almost everyone suffered. The large amount of fruits, I think, caused it. I was rather amused one night, my perverted sense of humour I suppose, a terrific storm came on, the only one we had during our stay and the “lats” were crammed with men all unable to move, it was a pitiful sight, but so funny.

The C.O. had a march past one day – we all poshed up and marched smartly past the saluting base – several photographs were taken. I often intended to get copies but never did”.

Diary entry for 20th July 1942 from Sgt Observer Frederick Sidney Williams, 212 Bty, 111 Fd Regt in his family’s memoirs “Our Fred’s War”.