A Story of War

Bahrain Isles – we all four go ashore here and after purchasing a few things, call on Pringle’s friend Dunn, manager of the bank here. We have a beer and then get into a taxi and say “Club”. He takes us a 20 mile drive across the island, through date palms, eventually petering out into desert, covered in mounds, apparently graves. We then reach the oil camp where there is a magnificent, up to date club (Bahrain Petroleum Co) with every possible, etc etc. We buy a book of tickets, walk in and meet Scottie Anderson, off the ship, who is going to Saudi Arabia. I have some beers and martinis and then we find it too late for lunch, as his launch leaves at 2pm.

We escort him back and as our own launch goes at 3pm we hang about till then. The shops are rather like Port Said and everywhere are luxurious American cars, not a single old crock being seen. Six yanks come back onto the ship with us, going on vacation to Persia. Quite a social joint apparently, but after the bombs dropped all the American women were evacuated.