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hours — route, foreign contacts and permits, immigration. Cus- 

 toms, refuelling, the lot. South African efficiency ! Again I 

 wondered what my Pretoria friend thought about it all now, but 

 as time passed my anxiety grew. When would that message come ? 

 I telephoned Brigadier Daniel, but beyond having heard that the 

 flight was to be arranged, he had received no further news. The 

 i Sunderland was all ready and the crew standing by, the moment 

 he had any news he would let me know. A call from my wife — 

 any news yet.? Sailing had been put on to 11.30 but could not be 

 delayed a moment longer. Smythe said I had better be there by 

 1 1. 1 5 at the latest, which meant leaving at once, so Guy Sutton 

 and I went to the docks, where the Dunnottar was ready to move. 

 I raced aboard, did a quick check through the stuff, and my wife 

 and Sutton and I went down the gangway as they were undoing 

 the lashings. A quick good-bye on the quay and my wife went up 

 again, almost yanked aboard by an officer as the gap opened, and 

 she was gone. I saw the telephone wire, held to the last, snaking 

 over the side. Photographed indehbly on my brain is a tiny figure, 

 waving: my wife on the bridge of the Dunnottar as she gathered 

 way out through the harbour mouth. 



At the request and suggestion of my friend Dr. George Camp- 

 bell I went to his house, where I might have some peace and rest. 

 I asked Guy not to give me aw^ay, but within ten minutes of my 

 arrival the press had found me. No, no news yet. I was worrying 

 about the formalin, but this came soon after. The Campbells 

 kindly left me entirely alone, but I could not rest or sleep, for it 

 seemed impossible that there could still be no news. I was in a 

 fever. Had something gone wrong ? There had, but not the way I 

 feared. We heard later that when Dr. Malan tried to make contact 

 with the Minister of Defence, storms had cut the telephone line 

 at several points and eventually a police officer had to go many 

 miles over bad roads to take a message. It was just typical of every- 

 thing in this whole affair, constant hold-ups. 



At 3.30 p.m. Brigadier Daniel telephoned to say that it had been 

 decided not to use the Sunderland, but a Dakota from Swartkops, 

 Pretoria. It might be possible to get it away by about 5 p.m., but 

 we could in any case expect to get away early next morning. 

 Brigadier Melville telephoned from Pretoria to say definitely that 

 it was to be a Dakota, and gave me a resume of what had been 



