Turning 15

Abadan is about 50 kilometres up the Shatt Al Arab waterway, which forms a natural border between Iraq and Iran. Like most oil ports it had few attractions: the terrain was dead flat and the only scenery was a series of T shaped loading berths and pipelines and tanks. There was a Seamen's Club in the wharf area. Well beyond the wharf perimeter gates, which were controlled by armed police, were the locals' mud brick homes and the bazaar. In 1947 martial law and a curfew were in place, a response to the Iranian campaign for nationalisation of the oil industry. Ships' crew were advised to avoid trouble by remaining within the fence.

Tex and I were determined to see as much as we could of our first overseas port, no matter what perils or tedium it had in store. And since our stay coincided with my fifteenth birthday we, and a few shipmates, decided to celebrate in the bazaar with a beer or two. The beer came from Britain in jelly form and was mixed on the spot. It wasn't French champaign but most of us had no idea how that tasted anyway...”

Fore and Aft p22