GAZA 1959: A VOLKSWAGEN AND A PAIR OF SLIPPERS

The veterans who come into contact with Fredsarkivet (the Swedish Peace Archives) describe a variety of reasons for choosing to serve overseas. They often mention wanting to “do their part” or “experience an adventure.” In reality, there are probably as many reasons as there are soldiers who have served.

Below, Per-Åke Strandin from Stockholm shares his experiences of serving with Battalion VI in Gaza from April to October 1959.

I completed most of my compulsory military service at the NCO training school at I 14 in Gävle in 1958, under the command of Lieutenant Berndez. Despite my somewhat cheeky attitude, Lieutenant Berndez and I got along very well, and apparently I behaved well enough for him to recommend that I spend six months serving with the UN battalion in Gaza.

There were rumours that you could earn enough money during those six months to buy a Volkswagen — and that sounded like a fantastic idea to me, having obtained my driving licence the year before.

So I volunteered and was sent to I 10 in Strängnäs, where I was issued equipment and clothing, along with a whole series of injections in my arms and buttocks.

The DC-6 landed at El-Arish, where the heat and completely unfamiliar smells (or rather, odours) hit us as soon as we stepped off the plane.

I served in the logistics section of battalion headquarters, where my duties involved a great deal of ordering supplies and making trips to the Canadian logistics battalion in El-Arish.

Whenever possible, most of the headquarters staff wanted to head down to the beach to sunbathe and swim. Many were genuinely saving up for a Volkswagen by doing little else. They ended up getting rather sunburnt.

We were entitled to three weeks of leave during our six-month deployment, and I wanted to make the most of it by travelling to Cairo, Port Said, Beirut, Cyprus and Jerusalem. It was both interesting and exciting.

When I returned home after those six months, I certainly didn't have enough money to buy a Volkswagen, but I did have enough to enjoy a month or so of carefree idleness in Stockholm.

I can still hear my mother's repeated warnings: "You really must start working now, Per-Åke! You can't just hang around here squandering what little money you have left."

I could see for myself how my wallet was getting thinner and thinner.

Before I managed to find a job, however, I did have time to invest my remaining money in a nice pair of slippers.

Those slippers are no longer around, 60 years later.

Per-Åke Strandin