Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel) (6 page)

‘There’s no chance of that, Charlie,’ Edward reassured him. ‘That’s why the legs of our beds are standing in those cans of water; so that no nasties can ravage us during the night. Unless they can swim, of course.’

‘Well, I knew that,’ said the slightly mollified Big Charlie. ‘I didn’t think they were for peeing in. But they could soon jump down off the top of the wall.’

Liam inclined his head towards the empty bed opposite. ‘Jimmy Hargreaves didn’t turn up for the game this afternoon and it looks as though he’s still missing.’

‘I heard that he’s been taken to the Citadel hospital for a spot of treatment,’ Edward offered, lowering his voice and directing his eyes towards his crotch.

‘Oh, I see. What a piecan,’ Liam said, grimacing. ‘He obviously got more than he bargained for when he visited those exotic dancers.’

‘What? Do you mean down there?’ queried Big Charlie, crossing his legs protectively as he pondered Jimmy’s misfortune.

Liam nodded in confirmation. ‘Poor fella will be going through hell. I’ve been told that they stick an umbrella up your donker and then open it up to scrape all the VD out.’

‘An umbrella? God help us.’ Big Charlie’s eyes were staring disbelievingly at Liam. ‘They sound like maniacs, these Army doctors’

‘It’s probably just a bit of propaganda that the Army puts out to keep the lads away from those sorts of women,’ Edward suggested helpfully.

‘Well, it’s worked for me,’ Liam confirmed.

‘And for me as well,’ Big Charlie agreed, nodding vigorously whilst arching his body protectively forward.

‘I’ll start closing these shutters,’ Edward said raising himself painfully off the bed. ‘It’s nearly five o’clock and it will be dark in a few minutes.’

‘Aye, and freezing the balls off us to boot,’ added Liam.

‘You’re lucky that you’ve still got any to freeze off after Chopper Hennessy trod on them in the match this afternoon,’ chuckled Big Charlie. ‘You’re face was a picture.’

‘I’m glad that you find it entertaining. I’ll be bruised up to my armpits tomorrow and having to do a twenty mile route march through the desert and all you can do is laugh. Bloody Chopper Hennessy. He should stick to playing football. At least then it’s only ankles he’s bruising.’

Edward stood gazing through the window at the rapidly darkening sky. He was amazed by the speed with which it came light in the morning and by how it then went dark again at night within the space of about ten minutes. It also changed quickly from an almost unbearable heat to penetrating cold. In front of him was the huge expanse of the sandy parade square set on all four sides with the accommodation blocks, the offices, the equipment storage rooms, the Chapel and the extensive stables. The arched entrances of Abassia Barracks had heavy, fortified doors and a colonnaded arcade stretched all the way round the inside of the parade ground buildings. Elegant, slender columns standing on square plinths supported the upper levels along which ran the castellated walled walkways from which the guards kept their constant watch.

Reveille would be sounded in the morning at five o’clock and they would be on their first parade an hour after that. By seven o’clock the sun would be coming up and within minutes it would be uncomfortably hot. They would then have an intensive day of training and drill which, tomorrow, was to include the route march through the desert that Liam was dreading.

The training sessions, that had become a routine part of their Army life in Egypt, were divided between instructions in the techniques of desert warfare and familiarisation with the background to why they were there in the first place. They had been told that the main task of the British Army in Egypt was the defence of the Suez Canal as this was a vitally important supply route for the British Empire. Troops and equipment of the Australian, New Zealand and Indian forces passed this way en route for the Western Front, along with millions of tons of foodstuffs, minerals and other provisions bound for Britain and her Allies. It was explained that, because the strategic importance of the Canal had been recognised for a considerable time, Egypt had been occupied by British troops long before the Great War had started. For centuries before the Canal was built, however, this land had been part of the Turkish Ottoman Empire and the Turks bitterly resented this Western presence.

Edward was fascinated to hear the explanation of the significance of Egypt and the Suez Canal. None of them had really understood how the various countries had come to be involved and what the relationship was between them.

They were told that Germany had for many years before the war assiduously developed Turkey as an ally, which it saw as an important part of the Drang nach Osten – the Thrust towards the East. They wanted new markets, new territory. They wanted power and influence to match that of some of their European neighbours and they saw Turkey as a means of getting this. Their influence was already felt in the Turkish trade and commerce and the Turkish army was led by German military advisers. The Germans were also encouraging Turkey to declare a Jihad – a Muslim Holy War – against the British forces and they had put many Turkish agitators in the area to stir up hatred for the Allies.

The Arabs had thereby become an important part in the developing war. Some of the tribes responded to this rallying call from Muslim brethren but many, fearing a return to the dominating presence of the Turks, chose instead to fight with the British.

As he moved around the room closing the shutters, Edward could see hundreds of bats swooping over the parade ground. He watched the Arab labourers sweeping the dusty walkway outside the window. When they saw him they shouted a greeting, smiling broadly as they demonstrated their interesting, although limited and often robust, English vocabulary. ‘Heh. Good bloody rugby man. You have good bloody win today,’ one of them shouted when he saw Edward through the window.

‘Aye. It was a hard game but we’re well pleased with the win,’ he said, smiling as the Arab waved his brush in the air. It had been a good game. They had played against the 7th Lancashires in front of a crowd of around eight hundred that had included a sprinkling of tourists and locals amongst the troops from both Battalions. The heat had been stifling but they had all suffered equally. They had made the 7th defend in their own half for most of the game and had come out eventual winners by 9 points to nil. Liam’s constant probing attacks from scrum half had bemused the opposition and given Edward the space and the platform to operate in his position at stand off. Big Charlie’s powerful runs from prop, particularly on balls fed to him by Liam, had been devastating and even the semi professional players in the 7th team had found him difficult to handle.

‘Well, you might feel like knacker horses that have just finished their shift,’ Edward said as he closed the last set of shutters, ‘but let’s go and get a couple of beers. We can celebrate and kill the pain at the same time.’

***

The Battalion found that, apart from training, drilling and desert marches, much of their time was spent in strengthening the defences around the Suez Canal and improving the communication facilities. What had become clear at an early stage was that they also had a special role in cultivating suitable relationships with the Arabs. They had a strict code of conduct to adhere to whenever they were in contact with local people but the good natured geniality of the northern soldiers broke down many barriers.

At first, they had found that the cultural differences and the unfathomable language created a large gulf, but the natural affinity and respect between working class men of any race soon helped to bridge it.

Edward was intrigued by the contrast between the Spartan and often shoddy clothes that the men wore and the brightly coloured clothes and glittery sandals of the women. Their contact was invariably with either the men or the boys as they were the ones who filled the jobs in the barracks and served in the bars, the cafes and the shops.

Off the main thoroughfares, the back streets of Cairo were a riot of exciting and vivid experiences. Plain, pale brown buildings with erratic windows and protruding upper floors supported by bracing, wooden jambs leaned together conspiratorially over narrow alleys. Broken render revealed the mud bricks of the structure. The streets had an amazing vigour, with heady aromas of exotic spices and cooking hanging sharply against the pungent and often putrid smells of cloth dying and leather tanning. Front rooms of the houses were given over to the pursuit of the family business with blacksmiths, pan makers, cobblers, leather workers and tailors, shops selling fruit and vegetables and stalls laden with colourful seeds, peppers and spices. The cries of the tradesmen, the sound of the carts and the babble of neighbourly exchanges and customer negotiations, created an atmosphere that thrilled the three Salford men as they walked around.

Liam was quick to pick up some Arabic words and enjoyed the rapport that he soon established. His technique was a combination of facial expressions, gesticulating and pointing, and a disarming willingness to laugh at his own difficulties. The Arabs responded warmly to him and tried to use the few English words that they, in turn, had managed to acquire.

Initially, Edward felt a natural reticence, fearing the embarrassment of using words in the wrong context, but Liam’s determined and good humoured approach reinforced him and he quickly acquired a limited but useful vocabulary. Big Charlie, however, relied on his repertoire of expressive grunts reinforced by the nodding or shaking of his head, in order to get by. The Arabs were, anyway, generally just pleased to find that this large, somewhat intimidating, Englishman was actually quite affable.

The Salford Battalion, with their friendly and patient approach, and the Arabs, with their creative and articulate gestures, soon established a level of communication. Gradually, the soldiers managed to gain the trust and friendship of the natives and this helped to overcome the Turkish efforts to turn the conflict into a religious war.

During their time off the troops organized a variety of sports and social activities. Some of them discovered hidden talents as they took part in performances by the concert party whilst many, despite the stifling heat during the day, nurtured their talents in football, rugby, cricket and lacrosse.

On the odd occasions that they had a free evening, the three friends would take the opportunity to see a little more of Cairo, wandering around the busy streets, sitting in the cafes or in the bars. Their sense of adventure, or their yearning for a decent pint of beer, often induced them to sample a range of locally produced drinks with, sometimes, unfortunate consequences.

‘Do you have a dominant leg when you’ve had a few, Eddie?’ Liam asked, suddenly breaking the raw silence that hung over their breakfast cups.

Edward looked up, his bloodshot eyes and the untouched breakfast betraying the excesses of the previous night’s visit to a bar suggested by another group of soldiers with a recommendation that they should try the Camel whisky. Mistaking the name for a famous Scottish clan and being surprised by the reasonable price, they had ignored the dubious taste, which the Egyptian barman had told them was because of the heat, and had drunk a few too many of them.

‘Sorry, mate, what are you saying about legs?’

‘Do you have one that takes over when you are a bit drunk?’ said Liam, his voice sounding like two sheet of sandpaper rubbing together. ‘I always find that my right leg goes off and takes my right arm with it. Then my left leg makes a bloody feeble attempt to catch up but my left arm gets no signal at all and just hangs there. Just when I’m trying to get my left side sorted out, my right leg takes off again and makes a right bugger’s muddle of things.’

‘Can’t say that I’ve ever really thought about it,’ Edward replied, frowning with the strain of having to address such a demanding issue. ‘But I know that last night my left leg had a mind of its own.’

‘Have you ever noticed Big Charlie? The signals seem to take a bit of time to get down to his legs. His body takes off first but his feet stay where they are, and then he has to do a bit of a run to catch up with himself.’

‘Talking about Charlie,’ Edward said, suddenly remembering his big friend’s whereabouts, ‘We’d better go and give him a shake. We’re due on parade in ten minutes.’

***

When the morning parade was finished, and being much in need of some fresh air and exercise to purge the evil Camel whisky spirits, they decided on a trip to the pyramids.

‘I wonder how many navvies they needed to build this lot,’ the slowly recovering Big Charlie observed phlegmatically.

‘Well, they would have had plenty to go at if Cairo had been anything like it is today,’ Liam observed helpfully. ‘And if they ran a bit short they could always nip up the Nile into Africa and grab another boatload. They controlled everything round here in those days.’

‘But it sets you wondering, doesn’t it, as to how they got those big blocks up there?’ said Edward thoughtfully. ‘They must weigh a few tons apiece some of those.’

‘Aye. It’d take a fair bit of effort to lift them to the top of there,’ observed Big Charlie, his brow furrowing as he concentrated on the heights of the mighty constructions.

‘Hmm. I think that they would have had some kind of crane that they would have kept moving up to the different levels,’ suggested Liam.

‘Bit of a problem when you got to the pointed bit on the top though,’ Big Charlie countered.

‘Well, it’s probably hollow inside so that they could pull the stones up round it,’ Liam said impatiently. ‘If you opened it up you would probably find a crane still inside it.’

Leaving the awe inspiring constructions they retreated to the welcoming shade of a palm tree and shared a much needed billy-can of water. They watched as a British Army officer marched down the line of a long queue and stood in front of a group of camels carrying soldiers from the ranks of the 1/8 Lancashires. The sandy moustached, slightly rotund Major, monocle stuck imperiously in his right eye, held up his hand to stop the procession.