The balance of the journey between here and our first port of call which incidentally was Aden, the great outpost of the Middle East and main port of Arabia was quite uneventful apart from the fact that after a few days out at sea Japan entered the war against America and England, but the only difference that had on us was that we had to complete the rest of the way zig zagging across the ocean in defence against any lurking Jap Submarines.
Each morning there were the usual fatigues to be done such as scrubbing the decks and cabins, bringing food up from the holds and generally keeping the place in spick and span condition fit for humans to live in. I don’t think any of us had much to complain about except the heat which grew steadily worse as we drew closer the Equator, so worse in fact, that not only myself, but many others refused to sleep in the cabins, and each night carried a blanket up on the deck.
Before luncheon each day we all had to go through our paces in life boat drill, which few of us realised just how important this all was and treated it all very lightly. Naturally, we had never seen a ship sink or known any of the horrors and dangers of the sea. Following this in the afternoon we had a little physical training and apart from that the afternoons were more or less our own to do with as we pleased, and I might include I put in a considerable amount of reading.
One or two concerts were arranged in the evenings for our amusement, bringing to light some frightfully good talent, which seemed to be in abundance amongst the fellows on board. Each man stepping forward and doing his turn to entertain the masses and take our thoughts off the boredom of weeks at sea. And of course there was the usual ceremony and tom Foolery in crossing the equator for which we were each presented with a certificate to that effect. One black night rather late, a hospital ship passed us on its way to the Union and it looked so wonderful there in the pitch black night, all brilliantly ablaze with lights, that jokingly I remarked to a friend, that if I came home again I should like it to be in a hospital ship, without any hopes of my wishes actually materializing.
On the morning of the fourteenth day out at sea, there was great excitement. Somebody had spotted land and naturally everybody was arrayed around the railings on deck. Yes it was Aden and as we sailed into the harbour entrance at seven in the morning I noticed that at each side of the entrance were tall solid bare rocks. Mountains bespeckled with eaves and strong fortified gun positions. I immediately formed the impression of it being an impregnable fortress and it would need to be, as it guards the entrance to the Red Sea, and also the vast British. Arabian oil possession which at a time like this is most vital in prosecution of this war to a suitable conclusion.
Once passes these two majestic rocks guarding the entrance, there remains nothing but the flat, barren Arabian Desert. This proved to be my introduction to which was to be my “Lebensraum” for many months to come – The desert.
After making fast to a buoy in the centre of the bay, which we found to be literally blocked with every type of ship from every corner of the world, we lost not time in commencing to oil up. Little boats came along side and their occupants began feverishly to pump oil from pipes let out in a network, to hundreds of points in the centre of the bay. I believe this oil is run through pipes for thousands of miles across the desert from the great oil fields of Iran and Iraq. However here I was able to make my first study of the various playwrights famous “Arabian Knights” and “Sheiks of Arabia”. These are the men who at this moment are busy pumping oil aboard and as I have promised to refrain from writing any strong language, I shall also refrain from attempting to describe them, all I can say is they are the filthiest crew of human beings I have ever seen, not only in themselves but in their ways and habits, and as we were not permitted ashore we had to be contented with making a further survey of the town through our binoculars. I believe the reason for our not being allowed ashore is due to the fact that the place is seething with venereal disease.
We eventually completed oiling up five in the afternoon and once more got underway, heading our way out of the harbour and towards Hells Gates and the entrance to the Red Sea. From here we travel individually, unescorted by any naval protection and for most of the four days which it took us to cover the length of the Red Sea we beheld land in sight, if not the Arabian coast then the coast of Africa. Here the weather made very drastic changes from extreme heat to practically extreme cold, now too do I know where the Red Sea derived its name, evidently when a sand storm in the Arabian desert blows the red particles of sand are carried right across the narrow straights of the Sea. We experienced one such storm two days sailing from our final port of disembarkation – Port Toufiq.
Arising at six o’clock this morning I was forced, due to the severe cold to don a great coat, and after steaming up to Gulf of Suez we came to a standstill at nine o’clock in the Port of Toufiq, but it was not until midday before we were loaded into lighters and taken ashore. From here we were able to make a general survey of the town of Suez and the Egyptian people as it was not until four o’clock this afternoon before we eventually moved off by train for our Base and transit camp.
On the journey which covered many miles of barren desert, I managed to catch occasional glimpses of the Suez Canal, and here and there could be seen the masts and hulls of ships which had suffered from Nazi air attack. After two and a half hours we finally reached Cairo, but being winter here now and the sun setting early, it was already dark, so we were unable to see much, and I may add as a preamble, that Cairo is not restricted to any great extent with black out, of course all the car and street lights are painted blue, but never the less life appears to continue in a normal manner. We had rather a long wait here before we eventually moved off again and during that period we were absolutely pestered with hundreds of hawkers, who literally stormed the train, peddling every imaginable type of article from a bottle of whiskey to a necklace. As a matter of fact I had rather a novel if unfortunate experience, but it put me on my guard to be more cautious in future. One of these hawkers offered to sell me a bottle whiskey for forty Piastres (eight shillings) and, being informed before hand to barter to exactly half of whatever price is asked, so when I told him I would give him twenty Piastres, without any hesitation he accepted my offer. This fact alone should have warned me, as I am quite sure that no where in the world could anyone purchase a quart of whiskey for four shillings, however on examination of the bottle I abandoned any remaining doubt as to it not being pure Scotch Whiskey; then while I was counting out my newly acquired currency, which to me is the worst in the world, he must have changed bottles around, because when I come to drink it I found it to be water, contaminated perhaps with a little sugar, and on further examination, I found it to be an entirely different bottle, this one displaying a bowl of fruit on the label.
The train eventually moved off at a very slow rate and innumerable stops, and being a very dark night we were unable to see any of the country, not that there is much to see, as I understand it to be all just plain desert. After several hours we reached our destination, namely Helwan-Les-Bains. Here we have been ushered into bungalows; it is close on midnight, and I think the majority of us feeling more like a bunch of orphans many miles from home than soldiers after a most uncomfortable journey in third class cattle trucks.
This morning I arose at seven o’clock feeling far more dead than alive, and on going outside I was able to form a more or less idea of the place. The camp is well scattered and spread out among sand dunes as a precaution against air attack, and situated about three miles from the River Nile on the eastern banks and twenty three miles from Cairo.
On looking across the Nile I could see a group of pyramids which I was later to learn were the step Pyramids of Sakkara, the oldest in all Egypt dating back to about 6 000 BC. I’m afraid slightly before my time.
Later on today we were issued with a British winter Battle dress, which not only looks smart and uniform but I am sure will come in handy in this bitterly cold weather. Then once rigged out in our new uniform, two of my friends and myself conspired to plan to break camp (strict orders were given that no one was to leave camp under any circumstances) and investigate this much spoken of Cairo. Our plan of action arranged, every thing worked according to schedule and in due course we were out of the gates and heading down a tar road which we learnt later ran to the town of Helwan, an Arab village and winter resort about eight miles from the camp. Here we bought tickets and before long we were on a very fast and comfortable oil driven train on our way to Cairo. In the train we opened conversation with a fellow soldier who formally informed us as to how when and where to go about things.
Once in Cairo – it being dark now – we got a cabby who in turn took us to a café for a meal, and I might also add as a preamble, that whatever price the management demanded for the meal we deducted a shilling or two. Of course he made a terrible fuss and commotion, and looked as though he was going to pull the place apart, but strangely enough we got away with it. They all make a great noise but never show any signs of fight. Please do not be mislead or under any misapprehension as to our characters due to this frank confession as we were quite justified in the price we paid. From here our investigation went further a field and led us to that infamous Shara Ezberkia. Now I do not claim to have any inclination towards temperance or social reform, but what I saw there reviled me and evoked nothing but absolute utter disgust, as the entire street houses probably about three hundred women specifically for one purpose alone, namely for prostitution, where it is carried on in mass production. I stopped dead in my tracks as women stormed about us, women of every nationality in the world, using every vamping power at their disposal to encourage me into their den of vice! My thoughts immediately flew back to my little hometown way back south. How little one half of the world knows how the other half lives, then without further ado, I turned on my heels and fled out of the place. I may only be a soldier in a foreign country, but thank God I have some self respect, if not directly towards myself, then towards other with whom I am very closely associated and apart from that I have a complex towards that sort of thing.
One thing to do and that was to have a few drinks and retire back to camp, as I think both my friends and myself had had enough for one night to set us thinking for quite a time to come.
It is surprising but news in a military camp travels very fast indeed, and this morning when I awoke it was already well established through out the camp that my two friends and myself had the previous night pierced the wonders of the mystic east by way of an illegal visit to Cairo, so the balance of this morning was spent in answering questions from every quarter. Such as. – “What is it like?” “What are the people like, and is it true that women come up to you in the street, and plead with you to make love to them?” etc. etc. We has become regimental hero’s over night, the entire camp was speaking of our little episode, even the Sergeant Major, who was rather well informed of the fact and who by rights should have instituted disciplinary military proceedings against us for our misdeeds, had, on the contrary a frightfully whetted curiosity far in advance to any of the others and kept us well occupied in satisfying it.
This afternoon when passes for the first time were issued, it is only natural that I, as an old and experienced hand in the wherefores of the Great City, was appointed official guide, but as my experiences were very limited, and did not exceed beyond one night, I could only introduce them to the sights of my previous night, and there after we sought new places of entertainment.
In the course of this evening our wanderings brought us to a brilliantly lighted night club which proved to be the “Casino Badia”, here we could obtain drinks while sitting at tables arranged around a low flat platform on which was given a floor show by scantily clad women, some with even less apparel on than that, and in between each turn the women, still clad the same, mix with the customers, slopping all over them, and making them buy them drinks. It is in between these turns as well, that appointments are made to accompany the woman to her flat after the show. It is all, (although very immoral, or should I say morals cease entirely to exist) undoubtedly a great education, and I derived a certain amount of pleasure from simply studying the various characters, but then this too could not go on all night, and so we had to wend our way back to camp.
Exactly when I do not know, but very soon we shall be put on draft to move up the line, so every effort is being made to allow us as much liberty and freedom of movement as possible. This morning as soon as I had devoured my breakfast my usual two friends and myself set out once more, this time to explore the more historical interests of the ancient city. Once in Cairo, the first thing I did was to buy a present for my dear wife, and with this dispatched on its way we set out to seek a “dragoon” (Guide).
Outside the New Zealand club we found the very man we were looking for. He is an Egyptian, but speaks the most fluent English I have ever heard a foreign person speak, he condescended to take us on a tour of the pyramids at 20 piastres each, that was to cover all expenses including taxi fare there and back. It was all very interesting indeed, and each stage we went he explained every minor detail, while I made notes as we went along.
The pyramids that we saw are known as the Group of Gizeh of the fourth dynasty, and are situated on the western banks of the famous old river Nile so often read about in the Bible.
I was very pleased to be once more in the fresh air, out of the hot, stifling interior of the tomb, but it is never the less a great mathematical feat and, in the words of my guide, “A large grave for one man, and his wife.”
The temple of this pyramid is extinct today except for the causeway over which you have to travel to get to the second pyramid of Gizeh, the Pyramid of Khepren, the Temple of Khepren and Sphinx and the Sphinx itself. The Sphinx is but a very new discovery only being unearthed as late as 1935, and is a symbol of three things Beauty, Brains and Strength. It is carved out of a solid mass of granite and as can be seen, it has face of a woman, the head of a man and the body of a lion, hence the beauty, brains, and strength, rather a blurt I thought on the fairer sex, that populates this globe of ours, alluding that they have beauty but no brains. There is a Temple to the sphinx right along side, which must have undoubtedly been very beautiful in its time with the entire interior being lined with alabaster, and it was here that the ancient worshipers of the Sphinx carried out their rites.
I have seen nothing of real outstanding beauty but yet in all this filth and barren wastes, I think the desert sunset is really worth mentioning as it is its beauty and splendour which strikes me as a very predominating contrast from the usual surroundings.
As I write now it is 5.45pm, the sun is setting and the whole western hemisphere is lit up with a scarlet hue which silhouettes the distant pyramids of Sakara, throwing their reflection on the deep cool, blue shimmering waters of the Nile, disturbed only by the ripple of the Egyptian Dhow as it glides gracefully by. This all blends to form an unexceeding, incomprehensible panorama of beauty.
Today has been spent in the most unexciting manner and apart from the really excellent Australian beer, I have nothing further to report except, oh, Lord how terribly terribly homesick I am and simply yearn for the comforts, pleasures, and company of home life. All these things are taken too much for granted and can only be appreciated when one has to do without them. Never again will I complain if only I am spared to return to South Africa.
I went to Cairo this afternoon with a couple of my friends, not that Cairo is any consolation, but simply to get away from the tedious boredom of camp life and endeavour to pull ourselves out of the metamorphosis which we seem to be undergoing. I whiled this afternoon away leisurely strolling with two of my bosom friends namely Thompson and Wilson (these two, will I always remember and I am truly thankful and indebted to them for their company.) through the musky or in other words the Egyptian bazaars. These are situated in the Arab centre proper, and reminds me of a picture I once saw of the infamous “Casbar” of Algiers with their narrow filthy streets, wide enough only for a small donkey cart to pass, teaming with thousands of Arabs and winding in a jumbled maze which made me wonder however anyone found the same place twice. I know apart from pure accident I should never be able to. Whether there is a solid brick foundation in the whole place. I am certainly doubtful, but every building is made of mud towering over the streets permitting very little or no sun through to naturalise the stench which engulfs the atmosphere and depending on the next building for holding it up. What scraps of Ultra-violet rays which do perchance penetrate those ancient mud buildings, is lost by the mere fact that the merchant has his entire merchandise strung up over the street.
We wondered around for several hours and then were compelled to employ the labours of a slant eyed scared faced Arab to guide us out which he consented to do for a considerable fee, unfortunately we had no option but to pay up as I certainly do not relish the idea of being in there after dark.
Somewhere here in Cairo is to be found a relation of my sister’s through marriage, by the name of Molly Macnab, so thought it my duty to make enquires to try and locate her which I did, only the duty turned out to be a great pleasure. What a lovely change to have somebody to talk to of your own nationality, someone from your won home town, especially when that someone is a very charming little lady, it makes home seem not quite so far away.
It was about 5.30 that I managed to find her in the South African G.H.Q. on Kas-el-Aine and after a very informal meeting (I am afraid neither of us concealed the fact of being very pleased to see each other) we went to supper to Big Ben Café, just off Soloman Pasha Square. There I was able to give her all the latest data concerning her home, Mother and anything else she wanted to know about Sunny South Africa, from which she had been a long time away. Supper consisted of a Fry and I got very daring and ordered a Vodka for the first time in my life. I do not think there will be a second time however. I was still in a capable condition after supper to go to the theatre – that overrated kid Mickey Rooney – and then once more home again by the last train, after a rather enjoyable evening.
Tonight is Xmas ever, “Peace on Earth, Goodwill towards men”. This is the night that all families should be united and I cast my thoughts back over the past Christmas’s and of the what might have been this one had this world not been gripped in bloody battle. Oh! How I long for my wife’s company and my dear little son. I would lay on the carpet and play with him and then for the first time in my life I could play “Father Christmas”, stealing into his room after he had gone to sleep and giving him all the nice things I would so much love to give him.
And my poor wife, she must be feeling very sad tonight and I do hope she does not take it too badly, but I think that is rather a tall desire. Because if I know her properly which I think I do, she will at this moment be grieving her heart out. Yet what is there I can do? Our happiness seems to be all so short lived. We were no sooner married when war broke out and I signed on, she poor kid has never had a real chance to know proper home life, or the great love which I hold in my heart and await the opportunity to bestow on her, but I shall make up to her for all these heartbreaks, that I swear.
It is bitterly cold and I have done precisely nothing all day other than have a beer so in a few moments I shall take my thoughts to bed with me.
Christmas day, Oh Hell! But I wont go over all that again, what would be the good, but why doesn’t Christmas come to a speedy conclusion instead of dragging on and on for what seems an eternity.
This morning I consumed a breakfast consisting of a tin of sardines and a piece of dry bread ( I wonder what the folks at home are having) but decided that Christmas dinner was something nobody was going to do me out of, so, without any leave of absence I simply walked out of the camp and into Cairo. At the Metro Bar (a very modern restaurant ran on western lines) I was able to feast on roast pork and potatoes (my best substitute for Turkey which here was unobtainable) until my heart was content.
I met Molly this afternoon and we went to a bioscope followed by dinner, then on to “Groppie’s Night Club”. We stayed there for half and hour having a few drinks but due to the tremendous crowd, dancing was out of the question, so moved on to some other place the name of which I cant remember. There too did we only stay long enough for a drink then took a taxi to a place called “Sall’s”, a very nice little place with a palm court adjoining the dance floor, and seemed to be frequented mostly by Free French soldiers doing all their National dances and appeared to be having an extremely enjoyable time.
I only got into camp at 2 o’clock this morning, never-the-less I was up again at 7 and wrote several letters before I replenished myself with breakfast, which consisted of nothing more than coffee and bread spread with margarine. Undoubtedly quite stimulating, from the professional medical mans point of view, but not sufficient for my large constitution, so I bought a tin of canned fruit and devoured that.
I think that by now I have qualified to the position to be able to contradict anyone who wishes to disagree with me that the sands of the desert are not quite so romantic as some people are inclined to think. Filthy fine powdery surface sand absolutely immune of any humus or fertiliser, essential to the growth and cultification of any vegetation. There is no binding composition in it what so ever to hold it together, and consequently, the least breeze that blows, not only makes life very uncomfortable but changes the entire landscape. Where there is a hill today, there will be a valley tomorrow.
The following three days I did very little of importance or out of the ordinary, except perhaps that I went on duty Saturday night at the Detention Barracks and sat up composing a letter to my dear wife.
The detention Barracks contained the evil doers of the army, undergoing terms of punishment for their misdeeds and consists mainly of men from the front line, who, unfortunately have not been able to control their nervousness and their admiration of living in luxury in Cairo to the contrasting front line trench. In plain words deserting in the face of the enemy. Incidentally there was one fellow there who did not desert the front line, on the contrary, he deserted his Unit in the Union of S. Africa and stowed away on our ship for the simply purpose of trying to get into the front line. For this chap I not only admired his pluck but felt extremely sorry, but of course the military law bound up with so much red tape must be permitted to take its course, and so a real genuine fellow gets all mixed up with the wrong people; whenever it was possible I slipped him fags through his wire cage.
I was relieved of my duty at 6 o’clock in the morning, and after a change of clothes, I went to Cairo. At the New Zealand Club, I managed to get a hot bath, shave, hair cut and lunch, all for a couple of shillings which was reasonable indeed, as compared not only to Egyptian rates but also the Union, where one would pay that much for a hair cut alone.
At two o’clock I presented myself to Molly. She was just leaving to play a hockey match against an R.A.F team, so I hired a taxi, and was given the extreme honour of accompanying four young S. African ladies of the team. The sports club is one by the name of Gaziera and is delightfully situated on the island in the center of the Nile, known also by that name. After the game, we had tea and cakes in the pavilion, but as Molly had to get back to work at 6pm I was unable to stay as long as I would have liked. I met her again when she had completed her labours at 8 o’clock, and after a supper in the Big Ben Café we parted company.
Only one month today since I left Durban, but to me it seems more like an eternity since I last saw those golden shores covered by green foliage, and the Bluff standing so majestically at the harbour entrance. How terribly, terribly contrasting to my present environment.
I have had no letter from home, and I just can’t make it out. If I could only receive a letter addressed by my wife, I should be truly thankful, however small, these things mean so much to a man. Surely there cant be anything wrong, as I pray so hard for their safe keeping, and I know my prayers will be answered, for does not God look after those who fight His wars and help to spread His doctrine of Christianity. This is not a war of political or national gain, but a crusade against a dark curse which is endangering our civilization, endangering the minds of the world’s young generation, or rather destroying their minds, and substituting in their place, fanatics, without reasoning and without ability to think for themselves. Fanatics whose theme of life runs along on track to destroy and dominate.
This is Old Years night and still no letter from home. I am really worried now, and all sorts of things pass through my mind. Is anything wrong or isn’t the mail service quite so efficient as it is made out to be? I prefer to think of it as being the latter. My wife was always an expert at writing letters, and often had the occasion to draw my attention to the accumulated number I used to have outstanding to my many relations, scattered all over the globe.
This evening at about 8 o’clock, a few of my friends and myself went to a nearby N.A.A.F.I. canteen, being the only appropriate place to celebrate the passing out of “Just another year”. There were rather a noisy crowd of fellows there, and a concert was in progress, but for all the good it was doing it might just as well have stayed at home, for by this time we put in our appearance, the supposed to be audience had consumed such a considerable amount of liquor, that they themselves were the real concert. They were up on the stage, around the piano, and singing their own songs, about which, anyone might well imagine, while the real artists seemed to be in a state of desperation.
I was soon drawn in, and before long I was, well, just one of them, and from thereafter I simply refuse to even account for my actions.
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