We arrived in Bengasi in the early hours of the morning, passed through the Cathedral Mole that had so often been bombed by the RAF; through the town where the prisoners were herded behind barbed wire 12 feet high.

The lorry stopped, we dismounted and marched to a large compound, given a tin, and told to get in the queue to collect a ration of rice. Hot, steaming rice flavoured with tomato puree, this was indeed ambrosia!

Feeding finished, we were put into a small compound and told we should be searched in the morning. Searchlights swept the compound every few minutes and during these sweeps I could see that hundreds of others like ourselves were lying on the ground. And so to bed, the stony ground, the stars overhead, but I felt I should sleep now that I had eaten, and after standing all those hours, could sleep anywhere. So I slept.

Foxes have holes, the birds of the air their nests, but prisoners of war have the ground on which to lay their heads.

Daylight came, and all the treasures we desired to keep, ie photographs, watches, rings, money etc were buried surreptitiously under the sand until after the search. It was not long before the Carabineri Police came and searched, and they stated they only wanted anything that could be used to help us escape, ie knives etc. But when the search was made, they took everything of value from the lads who had not buried their valuables - I was glad I had.

After the search, those of us who had some foresight dug up our worldly goods as the police left the compound, and in groups of 50, were marched into the main camp which was to be our home for the next three months.