In 1949 I joined the RAF expecting to fly. Having served a registered apprenticeship in a pharmacy (they always asked what you did in civvy street). I was told I had no option but to join the medical section. I know now that I could have objected, but I was green and obeyed. I did my basic training – square bashing, guard duty etc - which lasted about 6 weeks. I was then posted to RAF Henlow for lectures on anatomy and physiology. On completion I was ported to Uxbridge and was told I was going “Trooping” (SDL) (special duties list). I was unaware what this consisted of. It meant that together with an S/L Doctor, a W/E Officer commanding troops and other technical staff we were responsible for the health of all troops on the ship. I was told that I would be doing this for some time. I was on many ships and steamed to West-South and East Africa, Ceylon, Singapore, India, Australia, Egypt and Canada. Durban, South Africa was my base and we docked there on many occasions. One day we had just docked and were looking forward to Shore leave, we were then told that our duties were finished and we were going back to the UK. We went under canvas just outside Durban, a camp called Colobra. One morning we were not allowed off camp, we knew this meant we were moving out. Two days later we boarded the Empress of Canada which had been converted into a troop ship and was considered to be a test ship. Normally after about three days of travel the ship would join a convoy, but there was no convoy to join; we were steaming alone. No-one liked that, the Oceans were crawling with U-boats, and we were all very apprehensive. One of the duties everyone had to take part in was submarine watch, as were not passengers and everyone had to contribute. This was altogether tricky, especially at night, every wave or piece of drift wood looks like a protruding periscope. At midnight on April 13th 1942 I was not on submarine watch. I was asleep in my cabin with my comrades when there was a very violent explosion that shook the ship from stern to stern. We had been torpedoed. The lights all flickered and went out and there was a few seconds of intense ship-wide fear and darkness until the back-up kicked in and people regained the bearings. In all the confusion and panic I made my way to a lifeboat only to find that the davit mechanism was jammed and the sailors were unable to release it. By this time the ship was listing and the orders came down to abandon ship. I slid down the side of the ship, trying to avoid the barnacles (which would cut you to ribbons) and into the water. I kept my head down and swam away as quickly as possible knowing that I could be sucked down with the ship. As my head broke the surface off the water I could hear someone shouting “Come on mate, there’s a raft!”. I managed to hang on to the ropes until it was light, as all the boats were overcrowded. The submarine surfaced and the captain made his way to the conning tower, the ship had still not yet fully sunk. The captain gave us another 15 minutes to escape and then put another torpedo in the Empress of Canada and she was gone. During that night and the following day 392 lives were lost. Some through the explosions, some were trapped inside as the ship went down and could not get away but many were killed by sharks. Apparently a signal was sent out because in the afternoon a Catalina Flying Boat spotted us and passed on a message that help was on the way. The following morning a “Destroyer” Boreas picked us up and took us to the safety of Freetown W. Africa. Eventually we arrived back in the UK, at Grennock Scotland and came down the Clyde and docked at Liverpool. I was given 3 weeks leave and a week’s survivors leave. Sometime afterwards the invasion began and I was ported to Europe and went through France, Belgium, Holland, Denmark and finished in Bonn, Germany. From there I was demobilised and went back into the pharmacy, before joining I.C.I (Imperial Chemical Companies).