Air raid warnings at the invasion station

Gaylord Kelshall reckoned that the crews on the big ships doing final training exercises in the Gulf amounted to about 20,000 sailors – all getting shore leave between exercises. And then, as Gaylord Kelshall relates, there was the problem of the pro-Vichy French Government in Martinique that defied the Americans and hated the British. (Note for younger readers: the Germans occupied the Northern part of France leaving the South to a puppet Government in Vichy that supported the Germans. The French island of Martinique was part of Vichy France.) "The orders to the gunners in Martinique," declared Gaylord, "were ‘if you see an American ship, fire across the bow to chase them away, if you see a British ship, fire at the ship.’ Well eventually in ’43 the decision was made, we can’t handle the Vichy French any more because they were sailing warships all over the Caribbean without consulting anyone and they called on Vichy French in Martinique to surrender and Admiral Robert refused, so they said all right, invasion July 8, 1943.

Trinidad is going to be the invasion station; the Gulf filled up with transports and landing craft and battleships to support the landings and four additional regiments." Plans were drawn up for the 551st (US Marines) to make a surprise attack on the island and seize it. However, the French commander surrendered and the plan was cancelled. Gaylord Kelshall takes up the count of US Servicemen in TT. "The American population in Trinidad went to 130,000 men in a total population of 450,000; if you take away 150,000 children, there were 300,000 (Trinidad and British) adults and 13,000 Americans – a very, very high ratio. After the war the steel bands were purely military steelbands because that’s what the kids saw when they were growing up, American soldiers and sailors all over the place." In "The making of Port-of-Spain, 1939-1945 Michael Anthony notes that the overwhelming presence of Americans began to affect the language.

Lorries became trucks, petrol became gas . . . "If you think in terms of 1943 when it reached its peak," continued Gaylord Kelshall, "there were 821 ship movements in one month here all painted grey, and all names and number painted out. You can imagine the Sea Scouts, on patrol duty in the harbour, having to pick up a load of drunken sailors on the jetty and finding the ship, they don’t know the ship, there are no names, no numbers and all the sailors of different nationalities . . ." . . . one doesn’t envy the Sea Scouts a near-impossible job. Sea Scout, now Professor Emeritus Dr Julian Kenny, remembers sailing pirogues out to the islands with sails made from flour bags. When the Scouts camped on Monos some soldiers would come to ask the scouts to take them to the submarine base where the lads were rewarded with Hershey bars and sour drops.

Of course, not all US troops frequented the brothels and nightclubs that sprang up around the bases. Many made friends with local families, some married local girls. A family with a US serviceman friend found some of the hardships of war eased because, although food for the civilian population was rationed, there was no shortage of food for the military. The ships in the Gulf and at Chaguaramas, the planes at Wallerfield, Camden and Carlsen Field, the Barracks at Camp Ogden were the nerve centres of war. Villagers on the East, North and South Coasts might see the anti-submarine planes flying out to attack the U-boats – and come limping back again. The civilian population were spectators in the war, standing on the sidelines – until the shortages brought the war into their own homes.

"The biggest problem we had was food." said Dr Elisha Tikasingh, "even when you had the money you couldn’t get the food. Flour was rationed. At one time people had to grow cassava to make cassava bread. We ate a lot of breadfruit and cassava but we were fortunate in that my mother knew the baker about two doors down the street from our house. And he would save a bag of flour for us. So my mother could buy a bag of flour, a bottle of oil, sugar and some condensed milk. "Rice was rationed, too, but not sugar. There was a shortage of oil, we used coconut oil, got butter in a tin. My mother had a little garden in the backyard where we grew vegetables, But protein was always short - except for beans. I remember seeing the posters ‘Grow more food.’ "At home we had goats for milk and meat and chickens for eggs and the pot. But it was real starvation time for some people, except for those people in the country who were able to grow their own food. We couldn’t get imported meat.

About the middle of ’43 there was a real shortage, even if you had money," he reiterated, "you couldn’t buy food." Dr Tikasingh remembers fish were also in short supply - due, no doubt, to wartime restrictions on the movements of any vessels in the Gulf or off the coasts of Trinidad. When any article in short supply (mainly flour) was distributed to shopkeepers Michael Anthony writes that "crowds stormed (shops and bakeries) causing chaos in various parts of the city." The obvious answer to food shortages was rationing – but that was easier said than done. First everyone. every man, woman and child had to be registered to get a ration card. The edict went out "No registration, no ration card". The registration exercise proved, to everyone’s surprise, that the population was over half a million – 502,401 to be precise. (Yes, that’s a little more than Gaylord Kelshall’s estimate, but at this distance in time, who’s counting?). Michael Anthony notes that when a consignment of whole wheat flour arrived, many Trinis, accustomed to white flour, complained bitterly.

After food, the most serious shortage was that of tyres; cyclists had to exchange their old tyres and inner tubes for new, but by the end of 1942 there were no new tyres or inner tubes for motorists. As we shall see, even the Governor’s car had to be driven on bald tyres. Another disruption in the daily life of the people of Trinidad were the air raid warnings. When the Americans entered the war in 1942 the US bases in Trinidad were legitimate targets for German bombers. Air raid shelters were built in public parks. Whenever the sirens sounded everyone was expected to drop whatever they were doing and head for the shelters until the ‘All Clear’ sounded.

Dr Kenny tells once, when he was cycling past Pompei Savannah (King George V Park) at about 11 am instead of the "All Clear" that was sounded every day about that time, came the warning. He said he was terrified, dashed for the shelter and stayed there some time until he realised someone had sounded the wrong siren. Dr Kenny also remembers cycling down to Cocorite near the Four Roads junction with a school friend when they saw an aircraft flying far too low crash into the coconut plantation (to the North of the Western Main Road) and burst into flames.

He says if you go to the military cemetery (behind Long Circular Mall, opposite the Cinerary) you can see groups of three graves; these are the graves of the three-man air crews who died when their planes, shot full of holes during a dog-fight with U-boats, crashed while flying back to base in Trinidad. Finally this week, this tidbit culled from the Internet, an account of merchant seamen torpedoed somewhere in the Caribbean. "The German skipper told us to go home, that "the war is over for you" and gave us a heading. The crew members in the sub’s conning tower looked dirty and had long beards.

We figured they were operating out of Martinique which had a pro-Vichy French government. "When the submarine submerged, we divided up into the four life boats. We were lucky and had good weather and were picked up five days later by an American destroyer and taken to Port-of-Spain, Trinidad. There were hundreds of merchant seamen on the beach in Trinidad waiting to be sent home. It was more than a month before we were repatriated aboard a passenger ship loaded with 400 survivors, finally ending up in New Orleans." Next week: The First Flight of Air Force One. Tailpiece. Two senior citizens have called to tell me the curious, turreted building opposite the Fire Service Headquarters on Wrightson Road was built to store film for the London Electric Theatre, the very first cinema in PoS, that became the Astor and is now an Evangelical Church.