107 



said or done, and quite late I went off to another awful night, more 

 nightmares, more fears, many fears, always worry. So much time 

 had gone and nothing had been accomplished, nothing, just back 

 where I was, at the starting-point. 



Boxing Day, 26th December, 1952. 



At dawn I went for a quick run along the beach, then back to 

 the bridge and to contact with the Post Office, where I had another 

 wait until they again reported failure to find that Chief of Staff. 

 The Post Office suggested another high official I did not know, 

 and there was another long wait, and again a complete blank, so 

 that I went bang once more right back to the start. Then the Post 

 Office suggested the head of one of the armed services. Yes, please, 

 anyone who might help, and this time they got results quickly, 

 and soon I was having exchanges with a distinctly hostile voice at 

 long range. I introduced myself and started off about the East 

 London Coelacanth. Almost at once he interrupted to ask what on 

 earth a fish had to do with him or with the armed forces of South 

 Africa. I asked him if he would kindly be patient for a moment, I 

 was trying to explain, and went on, but he interrupted sharply 

 with much the same query, so now I answered almost as sharply 

 that if he would Hsten instead of talking he would learn. It was a 

 conversation that should have been recorded, for at times it 

 almost sizzled. I was compelled to ask him if he really believed 

 that a man in my position would telephone one in his at that time 

 of day and on such a day about any frivolous matter. It was far 

 from that, a matter of national importance. 'What !' he barked. 

 *A fish ! Of national importance.' 'Yes ! A fish,' I barked back, so 

 firmly that he listened again. After I had finished my main account, 

 I raised the matter of the plane, and at once he said that there was 

 no plane available that could be sent on such an errand and he 

 could not think of such a thing, anyway. I asked him if I might 

 take that as his final official reply to my approach, when he tem- 

 porised, so I spoke of the Sunderland flying-boat in Durban and 

 said I had heard that it could be got ready in a short time if its 

 use could be authorised. He asked me if I realised what such a 

 flight to foreign territory meant, it might take a week to organise 

 a thing like that. 'Well, God help South Africa if we should be 

 suddenly attacked !' I could not help flashing back. It was a stimu- 

 lating conversation, but it became clear that with the best will in 



