sounded and a stern voice blurted out the order "Get up. Get washed. Get shaved. Get dressed," - an announcement that was greeted with much cursing.
In due turn we were called ashore at the Hook of Holland, a short distance along the quay from where the civilian steamers arrived, and close to a station full of waiting trains. Danny Daniels and I were directed to the 'Blue' train which would take us near to Jever. All the trains were colour-coded according to their ultimate destinations. Our 'Blue' train was making for Oldenburg and beyond.
Continental carriages are wider and more comfortable than those in the UK. Danny and I found our seats and stowed our kit as best we could. We were then called forward to the dining-car for breakfast. Our knowledge of equivalent ranks was put to the test because some of the names of ranks we had been taught were different from those we heard being used. We had to watch our 'Ps and Qs'. Our train moved off as we were returning to our seats.
Our journey took us through Rotterdam and Arnheim. I was surprised how neat and clean the Dutch towns and houses looked. The countryside was flat all the way across Holland, save for some very low sandy hills near Arnheim. We crossed the German border near Arsbeck. Once in Germany we could see the remains of wartime devastation everywhere, particularly along the railway line where sidings and marshalling yards had been bombed and not repaired. München-Gladbach heralded the beginning of the dismal and dirty, partly derelict, Ruhr district. We passed through Düsseldorf and Wuppertal where the old Schwebebahn (overhead suspended monorail train) dangled in its precarious way over and along the river. Hamm marshalling yards, or what was left of them, followed. Then we struck north across the flat lands again to stop at Münster and Osnabrück after which we found ourselves on single track. Another stop was made at Ahlhorn where we saw RAF Meteor NF11s flying overhead. Late in the afternoon we drew in to Oldenburg where we alighted. The train left us behind, almost alone on the platform, to continue its journey.
Danny and I found a German porter (Gepäckträger) who took us to the RTO's office. There we checked in and were told to catch the next train to Wilhelmshaven and to get off at a place called Sande where RAF transport would meet us and take us to Jever. In the meantime we lost our porter. Danny found another but couldn't speak German and started shouting at him until I came along and, using schoolboy German, made myself understood. Our baggage was duly taken to the appropriate track (Gleis) where we settled to wait.3 The station was quiet but there were obvious signs of aerial activity about even though it was Sunday afternoon. Vampires in low level battle formation kept sweeping low over the town at frequent intervals. Our future Squadron friends were so near yet so far away!
The short, very old-fashioned, train to Wilhelmshaven drew in and we climbed aboard. The journey to Sande didn't take all that long. We had to keep our eyes open for the station signs because we didn't know how far it was or how many stops to expect. The concourse of Sande Bahnhof (station) reeked of stale cigar smoke. There was an inviting looking Imbiss-Stube (station buffet-restaurant) but we had no local currency so couldn't buy a drink while we were waiting. We had been served a good lunch on the train but now it was well past teatime and we were thirsty.
A Thorneycroft 3-ton truck fitted with seats in the back under its canvas tilt drew up and we climbed aboard. The roads to Jever were rough and mostly laid in brick, so our journey was unpleasant. We checked in at the Jever Guardroom and then were driven to the Officers Mess. It was a large building, ex-Luftwaffe, but with recent extensions. We entered and were greeted by tall, blonde Hildegard, the Mess
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3 The tracks are numbered in Germany, not the platforms. 55