"I was now seeing Cherbourg from a totally different viewpoint than during the war, the place of memories for me and events contributing to the landings later on.
John and the first engineer went ashore with a pilot boat to get some spare parts. The damage was fixed in no time and we could proceed towards the Gulf of Biscay, having narrowly missed one of the worst hurricanes since 1927.
I dried my washing in the middle of The Gulf thinking of one of my uncles who had lost his life in this approximate area - that was during the war of 1914 - 1918.
The troop transport they had been travelling aboard had been torpedoed on its way to South West Africa. My uncle had knocked his head when one of the life boats had snapped - he lost consciousness before hitting the water. Somebody had helped keep him afloat for a while but to no avail.
I was a child when I heard this story in the old Cafe on the Sas and my grandmother cried. Young Edward had been the only one in the family who couldn't swim and my grandmother said, "maybe he could have been saved if he had been able to swim"!
Young Edward was a very good singer and the darling of the girls at the time. My grandmother gave me his banjo. However, I never made good use of it - somehow, it was all Edwards and I could never take a note on it but I loved it when my Dad did.
From Cape Finisterreto Cape Hatteras on the Spanish coast of Galecia the Celtic part we sailed along noticing the fishing fleet had all their flags at half mast. So many boats had been suddenly overwhelmed during the storm and had not been able to save themselves.
We entered Oporto to dock at Leixius where we noticed a general strike was going on, it was still the time of The Dictator. The next day, we were talking to the secret police who had come aboard our vessel. Suddenly, the army appeared in vans and took the strikers away with them.
We asked one of the secret police what would happen to the strikers, he answered, "they go on the next boat to Mozambique"!
Old ways die hard, here they were still very much alive.
To be continued ...
John and the first engineer went ashore with a pilot boat to get some spare parts. The damage was fixed in no time and we could proceed towards the Gulf of Biscay, having narrowly missed one of the worst hurricanes since 1927.
I dried my washing in the middle of The Gulf thinking of one of my uncles who had lost his life in this approximate area - that was during the war of 1914 - 1918.
The troop transport they had been travelling aboard had been torpedoed on its way to South West Africa. My uncle had knocked his head when one of the life boats had snapped - he lost consciousness before hitting the water. Somebody had helped keep him afloat for a while but to no avail.
I was a child when I heard this story in the old Cafe on the Sas and my grandmother cried. Young Edward had been the only one in the family who couldn't swim and my grandmother said, "maybe he could have been saved if he had been able to swim"!
Young Edward was a very good singer and the darling of the girls at the time. My grandmother gave me his banjo. However, I never made good use of it - somehow, it was all Edwards and I could never take a note on it but I loved it when my Dad did.
From Cape Finisterreto Cape Hatteras on the Spanish coast of Galecia the Celtic part we sailed along noticing the fishing fleet had all their flags at half mast. So many boats had been suddenly overwhelmed during the storm and had not been able to save themselves.
We entered Oporto to dock at Leixius where we noticed a general strike was going on, it was still the time of The Dictator. The next day, we were talking to the secret police who had come aboard our vessel. Suddenly, the army appeared in vans and took the strikers away with them.
We asked one of the secret police what would happen to the strikers, he answered, "they go on the next boat to Mozambique"!
Old ways die hard, here they were still very much alive.
To be continued ...
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