More About my Apprenticeship from “Time Well Spent”

(The winter of 1962-3 was one of the worst on record in the UK; snow and ice remaining on Birmingham’s streets for six weeks. To keep the railway’s road motors running, ‘cold start gangs’ were formed to visit the various goods yards and try to start very cold engines.)

“Batteries don’t operate well in low temperatures, so we often had to go along to the Lawley Street goods yard (the biggest in the city) plus other yards in the district to start dozens of stricken vehicles. The constant trekking back and forth during those six weeks of bad weather was really exhausting.

We would collect some slave batteries from the battery cage and put them in a little Ford van and do the tour of all the goods yards in the vicinity of Saltley. It would often take us most of the day to get everything moving; only having to repeat the whole operation again the following day because many of the goods yards did not have sufficient cover to protect the vehicles from the cold and frost.

The diesel vehicles would often suffer from fuel waxing (today, diesel fuel has anti-waxing additives to prevent this problem), so we would try to warm the fuel pipes and tanks by placing small kerosene-burning heaters underneath the fuel tank and in the engine compartment. After a couple of days of getting vehicles started, we managed to persuade the drivers to help themselves by wrapping old horse blankets (of which there were many in storage at Lawley Street, since they had only disposed of their last few hundred horses a short while ago) around the fuel tanks and the bonnets of their vehicles to keep out the cold.

One or two of the very old vehicles did not have electric starters, relying instead on pure muscle and a cranking/starting handle. If these were diesel-powered, and one or two were, then the starting problem became very acute and it would take the effort of two of us to get the engine going.

First we would place a kerosene burner under the fuel tank to dissolve the wax in the fuel and then we would place a similar burner, with the flame trap removed, under the sump of the engine to thin the engine oil a little. The railways used single grade, reclaimed engine oil in the SAE 30 and 40 ranges (called Silkolene), which could thicken-up like treacle in really cold weather. Thank goodness we have multi-grade oils these days.

After seeing to other, easier to start, vehicles we would return to the vehicle being ‘warmed up’ and one of us would be encouraged to ‘volunteer’ to turn the starting handle while the other operated the decompression valves with which all these hand-cranked diesels were fitted. Obviously it was always the apprentice who had to ‘wind the handle’.

At a given signal I would start cranking the engine as fast as I could while my master placed the decompression valves on the engine to the full decompression position. Once I had the engine turning over at a reasonably steady speed, my fitter would drop the decompression valves to half decompression. When light coloured smoke started to appear at the exhaust, he would warn me, drop the valves to full compression and squirt a small amount of Ki-Gass (a mixture of diesel fuel and kerosene) into the air intake to assist combustion. If we were lucky, the engine would fire correctly and start. Sometimes, however, the engine simply kicked back and it would be necessary to let go of the cranking handle very smartly to avoid injury. One thing I learnt very quickly was to keep my thumb on the same side of the cranking handle as the rest of my fingers to prevent it being broken in the event of a kick-back…….”

An Excerpt from “Time Well Spent”

(On my first day as an apprentice motor fitter I had no idea what was to happen. After arriving at the Road Motor Engineer’s Department in Duddeston Mill Road, Saltley, I stood around with a group of other new apprentices.)

“”All right you four lads, come down here and get your clock cards.”

The balding middle-aged man, wearing a clean blue boiler suit, was standing in the entrance to a small office situated next to the weld-mesh separated workshops that looked like large ‘cages’. We all obeyed immediately and walked towards the office. He called our names in turn and handed us a clock card each.

“Go and clock on now and remember to do it every morning and to clock off every evening when you finish, otherwise you won’t get paid. There is a number on your card to coincide with a number on the racks on each side of the clock. Don’t put your cards in the wrong slots, do you understand?”

We nodded apprehensively and walked back to the clock clutching our cards. The area was now beginning to get crowded, with men arriving singly or in groups, clocking on and changing into their overalls next to the individual lockers that lined the wall on each side of the clock.

Observing the clocking on procedure for a few minutes, we realised that it entailed putting the clock card into a slot under the clock face and moving a large lever, which was situated at the side of the clock, sharply downwards. This action produced a single chime from a bell inside the clock, thus indicating the success of the operation. One of the new lads moved forward and clocked on quite easily, soon to be followed by the rest of us. We placed our cards in the correct slots on the racks and wondered what was going to happen next.

The man in the clean boiler suit called us to his office again and said, “Have you clocked on properly?”

We nodded in unison.

He then said, “Right, I’m Sid Bartlett, the foreman of the repair shop. This bit here,” waving his arm around to indicate the area he was talking about.

“The general foreman, Mr Goodman, will be here any minute and he will tell you what to do next, so go and wait by the clock again.”

We dutifully shuffled out of the foreman’s small office, walked back to the clock and stood in a small group watching the other men clocking on and saying good morning when similarly greeted by them. We then took the opportunity of introducing ourselves and telling each other from which part of the city we hailed. After a few minutes we ran out of conversation, so we stood silently waiting for Mr Goodman.

Suddenly, a tall, balding man with the remnants of ginger hair around the sides and back of his head and dressed in a brown cow-gown (a Midland term for a long, brown coloured coat-like overall similar to a doctor’s white coat), walked across from the other side of the huge workshop and pointed at us.

“Right you lads, gather round. Have you clocked on?” he enquired in a mild, but noticeable, Cockney accent.

We all nodded.

“Good, follow me and I will show you around and then I shall decide who goes where.”………”

A Further Snippet from “Leyland Rover”

(On arriving at our Land-Rover distributor in Kathmandu, I was ushered into the general manager’s office by Mr Malla, one of the directors.)

“General Rana was most welcoming and offered me tea as soon as we walked into his traditionally decorated office. He was probably in the same age range as Mr Malla, with a definite military bearing that was enhanced by his wonderfully large, waxed and greying moustache. His manner was no-nonsense and assertive in a jovial, friendly grandfather sort of way. I noticed that he sported several medal ribbon bars on the small Nepalese-style waistcoat he wore.

“Mr Ryeland, welcome. Not more than an hour ago I had an important telephone call from the royal palace. They would like you to go there tomorrow to solve a small problem they are having with a brand new 109-inch station wagon they received directly from England about a month ago. I accepted the invitation on your behalf. I do hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me.”

I indicated that I would be pleased to look at the vehicle, but it would be helpful if he could tell me what he thought may be wrong with it.

“It’s a bullet-proofed Land-Rover fitted with air conditioning. Unfortunately, they can’t get the air conditioner to work. We ordered the vehicle on behalf of his majesty, but of course the bullet proofing and air conditioning installations were carried out by your contractor in England. Regrettably, we don’t know how it works either and it appears that no instructions have been sent with the vehicle.”

I sat there thinking fast. It’s probably a Thermo-King roof-mounted unit if I remember correctly, but I have never had to make one work either, so I’ll just have to play it by ear.

Mr Malla and the general were watching me closely, so I simply replied, “I’m sure I can work something out. What time should we be there?”

“Mr Malla will pick you up from the hotel at eight tomorrow morning and go with you to the palace, where the king has his ‘stables’. Of course, it’s a fully equipped garage, but his majesty likes to call it his stables.”

On the way back to the hotel, I asked Mr Malla how the royal household knew I was in Nepal. He replied that a report of my visit had appeared in the only daily English language newspaper that morning.

When Mr Malla dropped me off, I walked into the hotel lobby and asked if they had a copy of that day’s English language newspaper.

The receptionist said, “Oh, yes sir, and there is a photograph of you on the inside page.” I opened the paper and sure enough, there was my passport photo (very unflattering) under the banner: ‘UK Land-Rover Factory Expert Visits Kathmandu’. I wondered how they could possibly have known about my visit and, even more puzzling, reproduce my passport photo in the newspaper. Then it dawned on me, my request for a visa to the Nepal Embassy in London had required a copy of my passport photo to be attached to the application form……..”

An Extract from my Memoir, “Leyland Rover”

(Having joined Rover/Triumph Overseas Service Division and settled in, I was advised by my boss, Freddy Troop, regarding my first trip.)

“After speaking to Freddy about my first overseas trip for the company, he advised that I should visit Thailand, Singapore/Malaysia, Indonesia, Hong Kong and Taiwan, in that order. According to Freddy these were among the most active of our distributors, except for Taiwan, which he tagged on the end because no one from Jaguar/Rover/Triumph had visited them for some time. As the reader can imagine, I did point out to Freddy that Taiwan was a long way from Hong Kong, but he did his usual trick of looking at his wall map and declaring that there was only an inch and a half between the two countries!

Naturally I took his advice and settled down to organise a visit to all these countries during the period 19^th March to 27^th April 1974. I pulled out the previous visit reports and began to study them to determine who I should contact and how the companies had fared the last time they were visited by one of our engineers.

I soon discovered that it wasn’t easy organising an itinerary such as the one Freddy had imposed on me. I had to decide how many days I would allocate to each company, make allowances for travelling to each country, the airline schedule that would get me there and consider the weekends. Then there was the question of whether they could accommodate me on the dates I had chosen. I laid out a rough timing plan and then proceeded to telex the companies concerned, introducing myself as the new man on the patch, asking if they could accommodate me on certain dates and book suitable hotel accommodation on my behalf for the period of the visit.

As is the way of the world, some of our distributors were slow to reply or couldn’t meet my date requirements, for very plausible reasons. However, after a little bit of shuffling I was able to get confirmation of the final visit dates from them all. They also confirmed that accommodation had been provisionally reserved at various hotels within convenient commuting distance of their premises.

Once the distributors themselves had confirmed they could accommodate me on the dates agreed, I sent the itinerary to our central travel office. They would book the flights required to meet my itinerary. I was quite pleased that the travel office carried out this part of the arrangements because it can get quite complicated trying to obtain bookings with the appropriate airlines and ensuring that all the connections occurred smoothly. There was also a requirement for visas to enter Thailand, Indonesia and Taiwan. These had to be applied for at the appropriate embassies in London, except Taiwan, where it was necessary for me to obtain the visa personally in Singapore. Here again, the travel office dealt with most visa requirement once I had handed my passport over to them and received a receipt……….”

Here’s Another Sample from “Boomtown Legacy” Much Further into the Story.

(Charlie Robinson had adopted the identity of his old friend, Bruce McKinnon (the Australian bush pilot), before his arrival in Rhodesia and marrying Sheila.)

“Oh Bruce, I never tire of hearing your wonderful story. But you always forget to say how much money you made when you discovered that oilfield in Nibana. Tell me again, how rich are we?”

His wife’s occasional questioning always embarrassed Charlie and he often wished she would stop asking him to relate his Nibanan adventures. One of the main reasons being, he sometimes forgot how he’d told the story the last time and would often repeat it with slightly different details. He was beginning to learn that to tell lies successfully required an excellent memory. Charlie wasn’t too concerned though; his wife didn’t seem to mind his seemingly odd lapses of memory or the slight changes in detail every time he related the story to her.

“Well, Sheila, I’ve told you before, we shouldn’t shout about our wealth. There are certain people around who would commit murder for only a fraction of what we have in the bank. Especially if they thought they could get their hands on it and get away with it.”

“Yes. I know that, Bruce, but just whisper the amount in my ear before the steward returns with our coffee.”

“Oh, very well, Sheila, but before I tell you let’s drink a toast to my old friend, Charlie Robinson. Without him, we would have nothing.”

“Bruce, you really must tell me more about this Charlie person. I keep asking, but all you ever say is that he was your guardian angel. It’s not fair.”

Charlie smiled and said, “Oh, come here my little dove.”

His head closed on hers and he nibbled her ear before whispering the magic number.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling.”

Of course, that was a lie too. The true value of the bank draft he stole from the Nibanan/Obiland Motor Company (or was it Chief Edenyi Estates Ltd? He never was quite sure) was seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, but now, more than three years on, with an excellent investment portfolio managed by the bank, his numbered investment account in Zurich was worth well over two million pounds. Add his property in Rhodesia and elsewhere, his tobacco sales plus local accounts and Charlie was worth a cool four million pounds sterling. All thanks to a mad Australian bush pilot and a scruffy oil town in the Enube River Delta of Nibana, but for Charlie, the real Bruce McKinnon would always be his guardian angel and Warunda would always be his boom town…..”

Here’s a Sample from my Latest Book, “Boomtown Legacy”

(Charlie soon realised that to get to Warunda, where the company’s new branch was being built, he would have to buy an expensive seat on one of the bush pilot’s aircraft, which he did with some trepidation.)

“The twin-engine Piper Aztec skimmed perilously close to the tops of the palm trees as it came in to land at the Warunda airstrip. It had rained heavily an hour since and Charlie Robinson could see a lot of water lying on the surface of the crude laterite runway. He swallowed nervously, hoping the pilot had recovered fully from his boozy session at the Laguna Island Club the night before and could maintain full control over the aircraft as he made the final approach.

Charlie knew that landing an aircraft was the most dangerous part of flying and, having heard so many horrific stories about the antics of the local bush pilots, he had good reason to be scared. Especially since the behaviour of this particular pilot had given him no cause whatsoever to disbelieve any of the sorry tales.

Their departure from Laguna Airport had started out badly, to say the least. The plane had taken off without any luggage on-board and the pilot, though reluctant, had been forced to return to the airport when the error was pointed out by one of the passengers. Then, as they were climbing away from Laguna Airport for the second time in an hour, Charlie, who’d been sitting next to the Australian pilot, noticed that the two fuel gauges on the dashboard were reading empty. Not wishing to alarm the other four passengers or appear stupid, he simply sat in the co-pilot’s seat to which he’d been assigned and allowed the fuel gauge needles to mesmerise him, as they bounced rhythmically on the stop pins. However, fear and anxiety soon overcame him and he felt duty-bound to quietly mention his concern to the pilot……..”

Two More Photographs Taken in Nigeria.

These two photographs, like the others below, were taken in May 1967. The first one features myself (on the left) at the Apapa Club swimming pool with that “just off the boat” look (I arrived in Nigeria on the 21st April 1967). I am sitting next to Walter Muller (note his rugged bronzed body compared with my pale exhibit) who lived with his wife Nellie and his young daughter Heidi in the flat at the other end of the Bewac headquarters building on Commercial Road, Apapa. Walter was the engineer in charge of the private car workshop and a Swiss national. The second photograph shows Fred Longton (my flat mate) looking out of the dining room window of our transit flat in the Bewac headquarters building. (See my memoir “The Up-Country Man” below)

More Photographs of Nigeria

When I first arrived at Lagos in April 1967, I shared a transit flat with another new employee, Fred Longton. It was situated above the training school in the Bewac (British [Engineering] West Africa Corporation) headquarters building on Commercial Road, Apapa, a suburb of Lagos. The first two photographs were taken from our dining room window overlooking the traffic island at the junction between Commercial Road and Wharf Road. The third photograph is of the swimming pool at the Apapa Club on a busy weekend. All the photographs were taken in early May 1967. On Sunday the 14th of May, I was driven the 350 miles in a short wheelbase Land-Rover to Enugu, capital of the Eastern Region of Nigeria (soon to secede and become The Republic of Biafra), by our company driver, Gabriel. I had been posted there to take on the job of permanent branch engineer (Service Manager) from the incumbent engineer who was leaving the company and returning to the UK. (See my memoir “The Up-Country Man” below)

The traffic Island was sponsored by our company which meant it was planted and kept tidy by our staff.

Notice the broken down van supported on stands with no front axle. A few days after the photograph was taken, two Nigerians returned with the axle, fitted it and drove off.

The swimming pool at the Apapa Club, situated a few streets away from our flat, where we spent most of our weekends.

Old Photographs Located

Here’s an old group photograph of me (centre), Bill Farnham (left) (Bill was the branch engineer at that time) and Rex Truscott (right) with the rest of the workshop and office staff of Bewac (British {Engineering} West Africa Corporation) in Kaduna (Northern Nigeria), taken in Oct 1972. The occasion was my temporary take over of the management of the branch whilst Rex went on his three month’s home leave to the UK. Bill Farnham features in my memoir: The Up-Country Man. His real name was Bill Freeman, a good friend and mentor to me throughout my tours of duty in Nigeria.

Here’s another group photograph of me (centre) at Bewac in Jos (Northern Nigeria) circa 1970 on the occasion of me taking over the management of the branch from Terry Mason (right). There was no European engineer at Jos, the manager did both jobs!

New Look

Regular visitors will note that my site has a new look and layout. This was introduced in January 2023. Any comments regarding the new look would be appreciated. Thank you.

Original Documents Found.

I recently came across some original documents concerning my evacuation from Biafra as described in my memoir, The Up-Country Man (see below) and decided it would be interesting to post them on my website. They are all mentioned in my memoir and provide an insight into the situation prevailing in Biafra at the time (July1967) I will post more as they are processed.

To enhance each document simply click on its image.

The Biafra Police in Enugu provided passes for everyone in the 70+ vehicle convoy organised by Mr Parker, the British Deputy High Commissioner as part of our evacuation. They were intended to enable safe passage by road to Port Harcourt. The main problem was that many of the armed and unruly vigilantes manning the hundreds of roadblocks between Enugu and Port Harcourt (approx. 160 miles) could not read and therefore the passes were largely useless! They were also dated the 15th July whereas we actually left Enugu on the 16th.

This was the ‘Pink Notice’ handed to everyone on the MV Isonzo as we approached the Atlantic Passenger Terminal at Apapa (Lagos) explaining the clearance arrangements. The last paragraph caused some derision and rude comments from many of us. However, as it turns out the formalities were minimal and conducted sympathetically by the Nigerian authorities.

This is the first page of a four-page leaflet issued to all civilian organisations by the Biafran Military Government detailing the action required of civilians should there be an attack by the Armed Forces of Federal Nigeria. This was my personal copy (Engineer) sent through to my in-tray by the Enugu Branch Manager (John Lewis) on 13th of July 1967. Three days later I was on my way to Port Harcourt in a 70+ vehicle convoy headed by the British Deputy High Commissioner.

This is the advert I saw in the Daily Telegraph in January 1967 detailing the job in ‘West Africa’ that I applied for and was successful in securing at a salary of £1,900 per annum. It was the beginning of all my Nigerian/Biafran adventures.

Fifty-fifth Anniversary in April 2022

On the 21st April 1967, I arrived at Ikeja Airport in Lagos, Nigeria, to take up my new job as service manager for a British company (Bewac: British [Engineering] West Africa Corporation) which sold, serviced and repaired Leyland, Albion and Scammel trucks, Land-Rovers and Rover cars, Triumph cars, Rolls Royce cars and Massey Ferguson tractors and implements. It was to be a very exciting and dramatic first tour of duty (19 months), because shortly after my arrival I was transferred to the company’s branch at Enugu, capital of the then Eastern Region of Nigeria and seat of power of the Ibo (Igbo) tribe. A couple of weeks later the Military Governor of the Eastern Region, Colonel Ojukwu, declared secession and the Republic of Biafra was born, leading to civil war with the rest of Federal Nigeria. Read about my adventures in Nigeria/Biafra in my latest, 55th anniversary updated edition (third) of The Up-Country Man, a personal account of the first one hundred days inside secessionist Biafra. (See below)

Third Edition of “The Up-Country Man” now available.

An updated new, 55th anniversary third edition, with added material and clarifications is now available at Smashwords and all the Amazons as an e-book. The paperback version is now available on Amazon and other on-line retailers: Barnes & Noble , Blackwell and Bookdepository. It’s also available from Lulu direct. With new information and an important illustration, this story of the first 100 days of the 1967-70 Biafran War (Nigerian Civil War) from the point of view of a young British engineer (me) on his first tour of duty, through to final evacuation on the MV Isonzo, (see below) is made even more interesting and readable. (Click on the red coloured links to purchase from those retailers)

My new book, “Boom Town Legacy”, is out now in Paperback and E-book format.

Boom Town Legacy is a story about the corrosive effects of corruption on a young man new to the ways of 1960s post-colonial Africa. In 1967 Charlie Robinson is tasked to open a new branch for the company in the swampy delta region of Nibana in West Africa, where oil has recently been discovered. New to the ways of Africa, Charlie struggles to come to terms with the tribalism, nepotism and, above all, the corruption that confronts him on all sides. Despite all the difficulties and setbacks, he eventually succeeds and the business thrives, but civil war looms and soon all Charlie’s efforts are undone by a single incident. He survives the devastation and ponders on his future when an opportunity to make himself comfortably rich suddenly presents itself. Having put together a plan, Charlie embarks on a long journey through Africa to cover his tracks. He eventually ends up in Europe where he uses the secrecy imbedded in the banking system to his advantage. After some months he returns to a different part of Africa and eventually makes his way to Ian Smith’s rebel Rhodesia, where he hopes to settle down to a quiet, anonymous and newly married life as a tobacco farmer. However, an incident at his farm initiates a period of extreme pressure on Charlie and as tragedy strikes his life disintegrates and his past begins to catch up with him.

The book is available on all Amazon sites as an e-book and a paperback. It’s also available in both formats from other online bookshops. It’s available at Smashwords in e-book format only. It’s also available as a paperback directly from Lulu (click on the red links).

Contact from one of MV Isonzo’s Crew !

At the beginning of June 2021, I received an e-mail from Italy concerning the evacuation ship the MV Isonzo. (See my post below, ‘Are you a fellow MV Isonzo Refugee?’) which transported me and many others from Port Harcourt in what was then Biafra, to Lagos, at that time the capital of Nigeria. The writer informed me he had been a member of the Isonzo crew on that voyage.

His name is Luciano Trevisan and he was, at that time, the ship’s third engineer and only 25 years old. (I was the same age). I was so delighted to receive his email, which at least gave me the opportunity, after 54 years, to thank one member of the crew for safely delivering us all from the food shortages and heavy fighting that was fast encroaching on Port Harcourt.

We exchanged several e-mails and he disclosed the existence of a Pathe News film, taken at the time, of the Isonzo entering Lagos harbour on 22 July 1967. I had never seen this film before and it was with some emotion, despite the passage of 54 years, that I viewed it for the first time. I could not see myself on board the ship, there were far too many people and the film quality is a little grainy, but there was a short clip of Mr Trevisan standing with his chief engineer (the man in glasses) watching us all disembark.

Mr Trevisan told me that after the Isonzo trip he went on to study to be second engineer on passenger liners to Australia and other destinations for some years and then achieved his Chief Engineer’s ticket and served aboard container ships until he retired.

It means a great deal to me when people respond like this so thank you again Mr Trevisan for your service on that voyage and for making contact. Are there any more Isonzo crew members out there?

This is the link to the film.

https://www.britishpathe.com/video/VLVA4LR22X85UID4OJ9C4BRCDIG5L-NIGERIA-FIRST-FOREIGN-REFUGEES-ARRIVE-IN-LAGOS-FROM-BREAKAWAY/query/wildcard.

For the full story of the evacuation and much more, read my memoir The Up-Country Man featured below.

(Photographs of the Isonzo courtesy of Mr Trevisan)

The MV Isonzo entering Sydney Harbour on 6th November 1967, four months after the evacuation from Biafra.

The launching of the Isonzo in Venice, 1962.

The Isonzo at Abidjan 17th May 1967