An eventful leave

[shewhomust]

989689 LAC Rogers
RAF Station
Carthago Sudan
26.10.42

Dear Ralph,

I suppose my visit to Palestine will be old news to you, but although it is two months since I left camp I still think of it as an important acheivement. Going on leave is a most complicated manoeuvre, before departing I drew rations for six days and then placed myself at the mercy of the R.T.O. for almost a solid week of travelling.

We travel third class on a free warrant, this is cheap but has certain disadvantages. The wooden seats become harder as each mile passes and there is no beautiful scenery to help time to fly. Meals are easy to prepare, simply open a tin of bully or cheese, a packet of hard biscuits, and the job is done. The train is slow and pauses repeatedly to regain its strength. Whenever this happens we throw some tea into a tin, rush up to the engine and draw scalding hot water direct from the boiler. Back in the carriage we add milk and sugar and enjoy a tasty drop of "chai" which is so much nicer to drink than luke-warm water. At night there is usually some competition for favourite sleeping places. I prefer the luggage rack and always manage to sleep quite soundly.


The best part of the journey is the steamer trip up the Nile. Usually one can be sure of a cabin and a bunk, or at worst a sleep on the floor. During the day the banks of the Nile are always worth watching, we pass scores of native villages and see the natives at work cultivating their little plots of sugar cane. They irrigate either by hand or by an oxen-driven wheel which draws water out of the river like a mill-wheel in reverse.

If the boat nears the bank scores of children appear from nowhere and will follow for miles, running all the way, shouting 'backshees, backshees'. They are the worlds most indefatigable beggars and I have seen them plunge into the muddy water and swim out to retrieve a small packet of hard biscuits which had been thrown to them and had fallen short.


We entrain oncemore a few miles below Aswan and are now in Egypt. From now on at every station we are besieged by crowds of vendors and beggars. They sell anything and we even see grapes and pomegranites, but it is unwise to buy fruit from an unknown source and having had dysentery once they do not tempt me. This is the worst part of the journey, the next coach is packed sardine fashion with natives, their worldly goods in baskets and their rolls of bedding are packed high to the ceiling. A journey to the toilet through this "Calcutta black hole" is not to be undertaken lightly. At night it is difficult to sleep, fistly because it is cold, secondly because each station we pass through is a noisy bedlam as optimistic beggars cry and as anxious natives try to board our coach and are ejected, not always without force.


Early in the morning we arrive in Africa's largest city and after paying my respects to the R.T.O. I grab a taxi to the New Zealand Club. This is one of the largest and best services clubs in Cairo, there are clubs for the U.K. troops but I have never ventured past their drab portals. Thanks to the Kiwis I have a hot shower, a general clean-up and a long-awaited and cooked breakfast. Cairo is not my favourite town and so, unanxious to go sight-seeing, I conserve my energies for the last lap of the journey. In the afternoon I catch the Milk & Honey express.

29.10.42

The platform is thronged with happy troops on leave and Palestinian soldiers and ATS going home. We are sheperded onto the train by a fussy RTO and I sling my kit down on the first vacant seat, feeling that now there is but "one more river to cross".

A New Zealander sits down opposite me and we start talking right away. A native is selling canned American beer from a pail of ice, the price is equivalent to 2/6d a pint but it is cold and welcome. By the time we reach Kantana, kiwi and I are firm friends, we buy tea and sandwiches and settle down for the night. I am wakened by an M.P. who wants to see my pass, I try to tell him that a bloke at the front of the train has mine but apparently he had heard this before and stupid with sleep I search through all my kit before the elusive pass is found in my shirt pocket. I am so tired now that I could sleep on a clothes line, and I fall off to sleep and only waken when we are passing through bright cultivated green fields; the Promised Land at last. I persuade Kiwi to abandon the train, we bale out at a small station and grab a taxi into Tel-Aviv. As these trains run according to the calender, and not the clock, this piece of strategy saves several hours. Soon we have reported to the DAPM and are accommodated in a comfortable and good hotel on the sea front.


Tel-Aviv is a modern town built in its entirety since 1909. It possesses a good beach and all the other ammenities necessary for an enjoyable leave. My original intention to travel far and wide through the land of the Bible was not so strong after I had been in T.A. for a few hours. It was so good merely to savour the sights and sounds of civilisation sfter my long sojourn in the wilderness, and the luxury of a clean and comfortable bed with an adjacent bathroom and good food within call, was too valued to be easily relinquished. The atmosphere was most happy, crowds of holiday troops thronged the streets, the cafe orchestras played all day long, the Mediterranean supplied a continuous accompaniment.

The natives were very friendly, the most cosmopolitan crowd imaginable, they made the League of Nations seem like a sectarian organisation. The local services club was highly organised and helped immensely, under their guidance I visited Bethlehem, Jerusalem and all the notable sights, also two Collective Farms which were most impressive, but to go into details of all that great experience would take days and you will probably have heard something about it via Athol Rd.

Through the Services Club a met a couple of charming German refugees, a Mr & Mrs Wittenburg. They entertained me royally at their home, together with almost a dozen other troops. It was a wonerful evening, the small room was furnished woth cosy, easy chairs, and softly illuminated with a table lamp and candles. Refreshments included fruit cake, iced coffee and fruit; music and intelligent conversation made altogether the happiest evening I have spent since leaving Durban.

Day to day existence is so drab and monotonous at camp that I could write page after page describibg this red-letter fortnight, but at that rate this letter would neither be finished nor posted. My leave ended as they alwys do and I repeated my marathon railway journey, without this time arriving at such a happy place. Life at camp since then has been merely a succession of Monday mornings. Already I am looking forward to the next time. Perhaps then I shall be able to meet Ted, that will be an event which will make the Livingstone-Stanley episode look like a mere incident.

All for the present, Ralph, I have no recent news of any importance but will try to keep you better informed in future. Meanwhile your letters are always especially welcome, so do not forget to write as often as possible.

Love to Edith & the family,
Best wishes,
Tom

What is this?