This morning saw us out early at Aberdeen, Betty Kendal having been installed in the Gloucester with her friends of the previous evening. Arriving there we found it a pretty lively spot with what seemed to me a fair amount of trench mortar and serial bombing going on. Since the French was not available, arrangements had been made for us to use M.T.B.10 (Lieut. Commander Gandy) and we loaded her with the ammunition and Brens that we had left. When this was completed Tai and I returned to town, receiving one nasty shock on the way, as we passed the A.A. guns at Pokfulam, just as they were going into action.
We made St.Joan’s Apartments, retrieved our “toys” and a box of guncotton and made our way back, still with an air raid on. Stopping at Pokfulam on the way however, we benefited by the current lack of transport to the amount of roughly a gallon of Dairy Farm milk, which could not be conveyed to town.
Our arrival back coincided with the arrival ashore of the survivors of the Cicala, which had been caught at last, after the thirty seventh raid, raked from stem to stern with a stick of bombs, from the last plane of a flight of nine. Incidentally the story of how five bombs hit her in line, without completely sinking her, and causing only one death (The Gunner’s Mate) changed my idea of the effectiveness of bombs, and told as it was by “Tom Thumb” later to prove the best of good fellows, gave us a good impression and a lasting one it proved of the Navy in general and also gave us a new phrase for our repertoire “Bloody Rubbish” denoting anything unfortunate, unlucky, badly managed, nonsensical, etc.
Dinner we had on board and an eye-opener it proved to us, after our experience at army feeding stations during the last week – plenty of good and well-cooked food on the dot.
We were soon appointed to our various boats – evidently our original party was growing – and I found myself aboard ‘11’ with Collingwood and Legge while Tai landed on ‘07’ with Ashby and Gee. For some measure of safety the boats were “spread” at the harbour approaches and when, in the evening after dusk they congregated we found ourselves in the midst of old friends Parsons, Kennedy and Brewer. During the same evening too, the “Navy” unwillingly played us the only dirty trick of the campaign by leaving us on Parson’s boat, while they went off on an expedition up the harbour to machine gun landing craft. They were, however, gone a short time only and on their return we made Telegraph Bay for the night, and my last sensation was one of complete comfort as I sank off to sleep in one of their super beds. Definitely the Navy had something.