The last letter
Jan. 19th, 2008 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustIt's ten years today since my father died. It's hard to believe it's been so long. After the first few years I stopped thinking "I must remember to tell Tom that next time we speak," although I still think "Tom would have loved that, I wish I could tell him," and probably will all my life.
Anyway, this seems like the right time to post the last of the letters he wrote to his brother during the war:
Dear Ralph
[Passage obliterated: The train journey from Cairo to Palestine... illegible] was stationed during part of the last war, is the only journey in this part of the world that I have any desire to repeat. Not that the train is at all comfortable, on the contrary the 3rd class coaches which we use have every inconvenience from wooden seats to the complete absence of any toilet facilities. But the experience of passing out of Egypt, with its sand and filth and smells into a country of green fields, orange groves, modern towns and hospitable European men and women, is something to be remembered.
Probably I exaggerate the beauties of Palestine, by comparison with this country a Durham pit-heap would seem lovely, but I saw most of the country during my leave and it was a glorious and refreshing experience. Travelling by road I went from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem, after visiting Jericho and the Dead Sea, to Tiberias, on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. There I stayed for a few days as the guest of a Jewish Collective Farming Settlement, later travelling to Haifa, via Nazareth.
The road system is a magnificent feat of engineering. Unconcernedly the roads wind through valleys, climb mountains and drop hundreds of feet below sea level. The result is a collection of breath taking views. From Mt Scopus the Jewish University looks down on Jerusalem with the whole city laid out below like a map, or in the other direction looks down to the Dead Sea, over 4000’ below and across to the barren hills of Transjordan. Then the view of the Sea of Galilee from the Nazareth Road would take some beating. The lake lies, a harp shaped stretch of water, below in the valley surrounded by green hills, their many shades emphasising the blueness of the water.
The settlement was most interesting. The Zionist agency arranged my visit and the members of the settlement received me hospitably, although only one could speak English and another only thought he could. They were keen to show me round, and were proud of the improvements they had made. During the past 15 years they had drained a dangerous malarial swamp, fertilised and irrigated it, and so had some reason to be proud in showing me a prosperous mixed farm supporting over 500 people in a higher standard of living than agricultural workers have in England.
You would probably hear from home how I met Bill Armitage in Tel Aviv. I had not seen him for years and we found plenty to talk about. He was asking after you most sincerely and remarked how long ago it was when he saw you last.
Well Ralph if there is anything more you want to know about my leave you will have an opportunity of asking your questions in ‘45 or the years following.
Anyway, this seems like the right time to post the last of the letters he wrote to his brother during the war:
989689. LAC Rogers
YI O.T.U.
RAF MEF
15.4.43
Dear Ralph
[Passage obliterated: The train journey from Cairo to Palestine... illegible] was stationed during part of the last war, is the only journey in this part of the world that I have any desire to repeat. Not that the train is at all comfortable, on the contrary the 3rd class coaches which we use have every inconvenience from wooden seats to the complete absence of any toilet facilities. But the experience of passing out of Egypt, with its sand and filth and smells into a country of green fields, orange groves, modern towns and hospitable European men and women, is something to be remembered.
Probably I exaggerate the beauties of Palestine, by comparison with this country a Durham pit-heap would seem lovely, but I saw most of the country during my leave and it was a glorious and refreshing experience. Travelling by road I went from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem, after visiting Jericho and the Dead Sea, to Tiberias, on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. There I stayed for a few days as the guest of a Jewish Collective Farming Settlement, later travelling to Haifa, via Nazareth.
The road system is a magnificent feat of engineering. Unconcernedly the roads wind through valleys, climb mountains and drop hundreds of feet below sea level. The result is a collection of breath taking views. From Mt Scopus the Jewish University looks down on Jerusalem with the whole city laid out below like a map, or in the other direction looks down to the Dead Sea, over 4000’ below and across to the barren hills of Transjordan. Then the view of the Sea of Galilee from the Nazareth Road would take some beating. The lake lies, a harp shaped stretch of water, below in the valley surrounded by green hills, their many shades emphasising the blueness of the water.
The settlement was most interesting. The Zionist agency arranged my visit and the members of the settlement received me hospitably, although only one could speak English and another only thought he could. They were keen to show me round, and were proud of the improvements they had made. During the past 15 years they had drained a dangerous malarial swamp, fertilised and irrigated it, and so had some reason to be proud in showing me a prosperous mixed farm supporting over 500 people in a higher standard of living than agricultural workers have in England.
You would probably hear from home how I met Bill Armitage in Tel Aviv. I had not seen him for years and we found plenty to talk about. He was asking after you most sincerely and remarked how long ago it was when he saw you last.
Well Ralph if there is anything more you want to know about my leave you will have an opportunity of asking your questions in ‘45 or the years following.
Love to all,
Tom
