Another kind of bale-out
IN RECENT days we've been focusing rather on people falling out of – or jumping out of – aeroplanes off Durban and elsewhere. Reader Graham Hammond now reminds us of another baling-out incident that caused a stir.
It did not involve an aeroplane. It was also in the 1950s and it involved a troopship bringing French Foreign Legion personnel back from Vietnam.
In the roadstead off Durban, a large number of Legionnaires – I seem to recall dozens – dived overboard and swam for shore. But the police appeared to have been tipped off in advance and they nabbed them all as they made it to the beach, absolutely exhausted.
Poor blokes. They'd had a tough time in Vietnam, life never had been easy in the Legion and they obviously weren't going back to the bright lights of Paris; more likely to some forlorn dump like Djibouti, on the Horn of Africa (where I think the Legion still have a presence). For them the bright lights of Durban looked a better bet.
Ah, quelle domage!
Beach landing
AND THIS recalls another seaborne incursion. It was in the 1960s. The crew of a merchant ship moored in harbour threw a big party below decks one night, to which they invited a large contingent of the Point Road ladies.
The party was such a swinger that eventually everyone passed out. Nobody realised the vessel was due to sail in the early hours.
The skipper was furious next day when he discovered the gals were on board. He turned the ship back but refused to incur the cost of entering harbour again. He radioed the Port Office and arranged for the ladies to be dropped at Vetch's Beach by one of the ship's lifeboats.
Readers of the Sunday Times were astonished to see front page photographs of the ladies of Point Road stepping bedraggled through the surf, holding up their skirts; and their squawking fury as they were apprehended by police and immigration officials.
Brian Rudden, who ran the Sunday Times Durban office, had enjoyed many a scoop in his day. Many had been political dynamite. But for me this one topped them all.
Strictly medicinal
FOR THOSE of us who have resorted for medicinal reasons in recent days to health-restoring whisky – and to keep out the cold generally – here are some interesting words from a Texan legislator.
Armon M Sweat Jr, a member of the Texas House of Representatives, had been asked what his position was on whisky. He had this to say:
"If you mean whisky, the devil's brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean that evil drink that topples Christian men and women from the pinnacles of righteous and gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, shame, despair, helplessness, and hopelessness then, my friend, I am opposed to it with every fibre of my being.
"However, if by whisky you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the elixir of life, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer, the stimulating sip that puts a little spring in the step of an elderly gentleman on a frosty morning; if you mean that drink that enables man to magnify his joy, and to forget life's great tragedies and heartbreaks and sorrow; if you mean that drink the sale of which pours into Texas treasuries untold millions of dollars each year, that provides tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitifully aged and infirm, to build the finest highways, hospitals, universities, and community colleges in this nation then, my friend, I am absolutely, unequivocally in favour of it.
"This is my position and, as always, I refuse to compromise on matters of principle."
A nice balance. But he doesn't seem to have discovered the medicinal properties.
Tailpiece
WHY DID Sir Galahad run about shouting for a tin opener? What would you do if a bee got into your suit of armour?
Last word
What we become depends on what we read after all of the professors have finished with us. The greatest university of all is a collection of books.
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