Hugh Morgan 1918 - 1990 Worcester Cadet and Officer
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Hugh Morgan 1918 - 1990 Worcester Cadet and Officer INTRODUCTION There must be many, who, like myself, have been prospector, sailor, hardrock miner, mining engineer, coconut planter and teacher, and who also spent over five years in His Majesty's forces in World War II. They too have seen much of the world. There are, I believe some unique incidents to recall, and friends have urged me to put some of my experiences down on paper, something I have long meant to do, but always managed to put off, and apart perhaps from being good therapy after recovery from a cancer operation, it seems advice worth taking. Bear with me then, as I search a failing memory, and aided by a few faded snapshots, and an ancient diary, try to tell you much of what happened to me during my boyhood, my adolescence, my "adultery" and my geriatricity, between 1918 and 1990. A Thank You. I am particularly grateful to my friends Keith (O.W.) and Toni Broderick and family for their help and support, and the long hours of voluntary word processing that they have done for me in the production of this book. Chapter 1 John Cameron-Stewart (Hugh instructed John while in the Royal Marine), Keith Before My Time Broderick OW & Hugh Morgan. The lion lay dozing in the morning shade of a thorn bush, when the sound of galloping hooves brought him to his feet, fully alert. They did not come from any of the large herd of wildebeest that were grazing placidly a quarter of a mile to his left, but from down wind and straight ahead of him. He was startled by the sight on which his eyes quickly focused, just as the rider brought his horse to a sliding halt. The lion had never seen a horse, let alone one with a man on its back. The rider, keeping his eyes on the lion, which he had just seen stand up, slid from his saddle, rifle in hand, with his right hand through a loop of the horse's reins. The nervous horse, seeing the lion start towards him to investigate, reared high in the air, pulling his rider's right arm up with him. This prevented the man from raising and aiming his rifle, while the lion, in turn unsettled by the unusual scene before him, and deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, turned and ran towards the huge herd of wildebeest. Those unpredictable large animals saw him coming, but knowing he was not hunting them, moved aside a little, making a narrow corridor through which the lion ran, before they re-closed their ranks and continued to graze. Meanwhile the young rider, having quieted his horse, remounted, and now intent on shooting the lion, galloped after him. Alas, the tightly packed herd would not let him through, so he had to turn and gallop a good half mile to get round their flank. By this time his quarry was long gone, so he turned his horse and trotted homeward across the plains. The intrepid rider was of course the man who about a decade later, would become my father. Let me start nearer the beginning though, and tell you that my father, with his parents and brothers and sisters migrated from Wales to South Africa when he, Thomas Oliver Morgan, was six years old. When he was seventeen, he joined, with one or two other British South Africans, a local mounted regiment, The Prince Alfred Guard, to fight against the Boers. He was discharged from the regiment when hostilities The men arrived in Kenya in 1905 and first settled at Kibwezi between Mombasa and Nairobi, at the western edge of the Athi plains. Here they would farm ostriches on the plains, and previously planted rubber from trees near the house. Ladies of fashion at that time paid high prices for the plumes of the male ostrich, to wear in their hats. 'Ollie" as he was known, realised that collecting eggs on the Athi plains, setting them to hatch, and waiting for the chicks to grow into males large enough to have their tail feathers plucked, would take a long time, and how many of the brood would be male anyway? The drab brown plumage of the female ostriches were not worth much. He decided to buy himself a fast horse, and hasten the process by riding down and lassoing male ostriches on the plains. Hence his run in with the lion when exercising his newly acquired steed. Some time previously a girl was born in India to an English couple living there. The husband was a Chaplain to the 'British Army in India', although he had originally been a cadet on the Merchant Navy Training Ship H.M.S. Worcester and then gone to sea as a Ship's Officer. The girl was brought up in various 'stations' in India, until, I think, the death of her father, when her mother decided to take her to New Zealand. I am not sure how long they lived there, but can only suppose that they left to return to England, partly so that that the girl, later to become my mother, could study music at the Royal Academy in London, before 1905. They broke their journey in South Africa, spending some time in Port Elizabeth where they met my father's family. How, or wherever they met, Laetitia Horn-Beatty arrived in Mombasa from England in 1910 to marry 'Ollie' my father to be. She was an indomitable little lady, all of five foot two in her lace-up riding boots. By this time the males of the Morgan family had decided there was no money to be made from either ostrich feathers or from rubber, mainly because the new strain, Para rubber, had been introduced to the market from Brazil. They had bought themselves a steam driven stationary engine and milling plant, and set it up on a property they had bought near Sotik, somewhat south and west of Kericho. This was where the new bride was taken, and where the family was to grind corn which would be bartered for Masai cattle or sold for cash. My elder brother was born in 1915 and named Dean, and by this time father had joined the 3rd K.A.R. and had moved with his Company towards the border with German East Africa. My next younger brother, Richard, was born about 18 months after me. Our childhood was not unusual for Colonials of our day. Childhood into Boyhood. We all, at the age of seven or eight went to Kenton College, a preparatory boarding school on the eastern heights overlooking the Rift Valley. It nestled in a saddle of Kijabe Hill, 7000 feet above sea level, giving us an excellent view of both Mount Longonot, with its deep crater, fortunately extinct, and of Lake Naivasha, spread below us like a small jewel on the valley floor. Some years later the school was moved to Nairobi. During most of my "prep" school days, my father was busy building new sections of railway line in various Hugh - Richard - Mother - Dean parts of the country for the Kenya and Uganda Railways. My parents also now owned two completely unprofitable farms; one near a place called Lumbwa, which was a station on the railway that linked Mombasa and Nairobi with Kisumu on Lake Victoria and the other some miles away at Kericho, now well known for its tea plantations and factories, most of which belong to the Brook Bond Tea Company. We used to visit and work the farms from time to time, mainly between railway contracts, which we boys enjoyed. I also remember a manager looking after the Lumbwa Farm for a time, though he seemed to spend all of every day sitting on the verandah playing cards with his wife, so that one only made expenses while my mother was running it. During our latter days in Kenya, for we moved to Dar es Salaam in Tanganyika later on, my father took on a contract rather different to railway building, even though the cords of firewood that were cut and sent My father bought in an Essex car which he was very proud of. One day when he was away I climbed in, started the engine, engaged first gear , and drove gently out of the garage, then watched by our cook and one or two other members of our camp staff, did a couple of circuits of the camp site, and drove sedately back into the garage and switched off. I thought to myself, “that was rather good” and decided to have one more ‘go’. So off I went again for another circuit; alas this time the improperly closed front door swung open as I entered the garage, caught the door post, swung back, and as I stopped appeared to have developed a large unstraightenable dent. I put the car away and prepared to face the music, the wretched Essex was of course the apple of Father’s eye. When he returned he had a look at the damage, walked off and cut himself a nice whippy stick, and then gave me a sound thrashing. I had been given six of the best by the Headmaster a couple of times at school, and one or two other minor punishments, but this one was the Daddy of them all. I never forgot it, neither did I ever borrow a car without permission, I think I was just over ten at the time. Soon after this my Father won a contract to ‘earth-fill’ an area of Dar es Salaam harbour so that the wharves of that port could be improved.