The atmosphere buzzed at Plymouth’s famous Devonport on Wednesday, 3 April 1946, as the Indomitable loaded on its cargo and crew bound for the Antipodes.

Camera bulbs popped and flashed while journalists jostled on the deck to mark the departure, while the crew were waved off by hardy souls on the dockside. Once the deck was cleared, the anchor was raised and the carrier churned its way out into the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

The constant chug of the steam turbine engines was something the party would become accustomed to. This was not an ocean liner built for comfort, it was a piece of military hardware.

Trevor Foster, Bradford’s big Welsh back-rower, was charged with making the team fit and had a flight deck the length of two football pitches to work with.

Batten’s plunge into the water to retrieve the ball from those shark-infested waters was a desperate one given the scarcity of kit. There were just a couple of balls on board, and they were essential equipment.

At 32, Batten was another of the game’s all-time greats who finally got his opportunity to grace the Lions stage, just as his father Billy - a hall of fame entrant in 1988 - had done in 1910.

Below deck, there was a petty officer’s mess which the players were granted access to, while bedding down was something of a lottery.

“As you can imagine, sleeping accommodation was a wee bit tight, but I – probably because I was skipper of the party – was allocated a bunk in the chart room, which was amidships,” captain Risman remembered in his book Rugby Renegade.

“Others were not quite so lucky. Their bunks were near the engine room, and they spent each night simply bathed in perspiration. One of the unlucky ones was our big forward Frank Whitcombe, and we lost no opportunity of telling Frank that his nightly Turkish bath helped keep his weight in check.”

An example of the type of bunks slept on by the Great Britain players on HMS Indomitable An example of the type of bunks slept on by the Great Britain players on HMS Indomitable

Whitcombe, at 17 stones, was the squad’s enforcer - the resident hard man. But there was a lighter side.

“Frank was the great comic of the party,” Risman wrote. “He kept us all on the very best of humour even in the difficult times, and there are always difficult times on any tour – and he was a magnificent team man, the sort of man on and off the field that is indispensable to any touring party.”

Stops whirred by in a flurry of exotic foods; fresh fruit was brought back to the ship by Waring in Gibraltar to the amazement of the crew.

In Malta, it was chocolate and other confectionery which the players gorged on greedily, as well as hot, hearty meals in Valletta’s restaurants.

Back home, such items were a flight of fantasy, with rationing of everything from basic items such as bread and butter, to choice cuts of meat.

Sailors, as an important tool within the war effort, received greater provisions and the regular meals served on board provided the players too with essential nutrition for the physical challenges ahead.

The players joined in with naval traditions, and not just by way of taking advantage of the cheap cigarettes and rum quotas. They were introduced to the rough and tumble of deck hockey, but were outshone in the navy’s favoured sport by the most unlikely of sources.

“One of the best ‘outside’ teams was the ‘Sky Pilots’ – these were the priests from Eire,” Waring recalled in his tour diary. ”And they were rough too. The semi-final between the Stokers and Sky Pilots was tougher than any rugby league match I’ve seen.”

Having set sail in mid-spring, the tourists found the temperatures soaring far beyond the UK average by the time they made their passage down the Suez Canal.

Heat and the sun were tough to avoid, particularly on the open deck, and few of the players, not accustomed to such a long and arduous journey, had considered the impact of the climate.

“Most of the party were unprepared for the extreme hot weather,” Waring noted. “Fortunately, this omission of clothing was rectified by purchases from the well-equipped navy store.

“No doubt, many articles of clothing were bought which, in many cases, will never be used again. However, it saved us from complete annihilation by the sun.”

Rationing went beyond what could be put on tables and in stomachs. It drilled down into everyday clothing and shoes, with sports equipment well down the list of priorities.

Each player received a huge leather trunk in which their travelling items were transported.

“It’s a great example of the everyday deprivation that ordinary people were feeling after the war,” Prof Collins continued. “Even Gus Risman, one of the most famous rugby league players of his day, a man with a high media profile, captained the Welsh wartime rugby union team, couldn’t fill a trunk.”

Risman told the Daily Despatch newspaper in the build-up to the tour: “I have found it difficult to obtain sufficient clothing for the trip. I shall travel in my demob suit [a suit every soldier was issued on their discharge from the army]. My football boots have been patched so often that there are now more patches than the original leather on the uppers.”