Harold Taylor was born in 1926 and spent a large part of his bachelor days living with his parents and 5 siblings in Chichester. During the Second World War he decided to join the Merchant Navy and here tells us of some of his experiences with them:

About 4.30 p.m. on the afternoon of the 29th October 1943 I was working quite happily in the corn store of Hall's, South Street, Chichester, when my mother arrived with a telegram for me. It instructed me to report to the Marconi Marine Radio Offices, Cardiff as soon as possible.

I left work there and then knowing there was a train to Cardiff at about 6.30 p.m. Having caught the train, there were delays all along the line. I recall sleeping in the waiting room on Salisbury Station during the night, that is if you could call it sleep with munitions trains travelling through all the time. I particularly recall one loaded with sea mines. My connection was due at 3.00 a.m. On my arrival at Cardiff, I was to report to the office, whereupon I was instructed to report to the shipping office to sign on on the SS Bridgepool.

I went to the shipping office, known as the 'Pool', where I met the master and other officers and crew who were signing on. From there I had to get my passport type photo for my Merchant Seaman's Discharge Book. After supplying these I was issued with my Identity Registration Card and a small silver MN lapel badge, the only uniform those other than officers had.

I was left to myself to report to the ship, which was berthed in King Alfred's Dock; I think a coaling wharf. The other two radio officers had left the ship by the time I arrived in a cloud of coal dust. I could only get a taxi so far, and was left to cross a maze of lock gates separating various basins. There was no companionway to gain easy access to the ship, only a ladder propped against its side. Whilst I was making my way up, huge trucks of coal were being hoisted off the railway line and raised on massive constructions to up-end the truck and tip its contents into the hold, leaving everything in sight in billowing clouds of dust.

I had to make this ladder journey several times to carry aboard my case etc., so I was pretty black by the time I found an officer on deck. He took me to the Mate, Fowler, who in turn took me to see the skipper. He was a short, rotund man by the name of Sim, who made me welcome by offering me a drink of whisky and introduced me to the chief steward. He subsequently introduced me to the assistant steward, of whom he always made some sort of a joke, as George could not read, write nor count. The only other saloon staff was a cabin boy. All, except the skipper and I, were Welsh.

The mate was to show me to my cabin which led off the lower bridge, and was probably what was termed a pilot's cabin. It was 6 feet square and about as high and at that moment was uninhabitable. The dockies were using it as a refuge and meal room. It was black and covered in coal dust.

I never met any of the other crew that day except the second and third mate. The second mate offered me his cabin for that night as he would be sleeping ashore. This was gratefully accepted in view of my sleepless night and unhappy day. I next went ashore for some food.

I wandered all the way back along Bute Street until I reached the town and found a small cafe called the Sandringham where I got some Welsh rarebit just before they closed, the only food I had had all day. Returning to the ship once more, this time in the dark, picking my way across docks and bridges until I at last found the Bridgepool, I returned to the second mate's bunk. I cannot remember about the morning other than the cabin boy bringing me tea.

There was some discussion as to what I was going to do for the weekend, so this must have been Saturday morning. The second mate was going to be on duty, so I would not be able to use his cabin. It was decided, therefore, that I could go home as long as I was back for Monday. I think we were sailing on Tuesday.

I do not remember what time I left Cardiff, or what the journey was like. I travelled via London, but due to delays missed the last train out of Victoria for the coast and slept the night in the waiting room as best I could, despite the efforts of the police to disrupt it as much as possible. I was not the only one there, and I distinctly remember an aircraftman with the logo Newfoundland. On Sunday morning I caught the milk train which got me to Chichester at 8.30 a.m.

I walked home and arrived looking like one of the colliers. Of course my parents were both surprised and pleased to see me, but I was only there for the day. I had a good clean up and a leisurely day before travelling back to Cardiff that night.

When I got aboard, my cabin had been cleaned up to a limited degree and a mattress had been found for the bunk. There was not much room as the bunk took up half the cabin, giving drawer space under for clothes. The settee took up all the wall space opposite the doorway, which was beside the head of the bunk. The settee extended beneath the bunk at the foot end, giving a full-length lying couch. Between the couch and the door was an enclosed wash basin, so about the only space in which to stand was an area the size of a small rug about 18 inches by 36.

There was a small radiator between the door and the bunk supplied by steam, which when on, rattled and made the room too hot with no ventilation. Stinking hot and noisy or cold and quiet, there were no half measures. It was lucky that the door opened outwards because there was no room for it inwards.

Harold and his shipmates went on to sail to Milford Haven with a convoy of ships, where they stayed for a couple of weeks, before setting sail for Gibraltar.