Cliff’s next letter was dated 25 May, ten days later, and he was writing from Syria. They’d traveled by bus to Haifa, then by train to Damascus. As context it’s interesting to note that Cliff was in Damascus over 80 years ago, but little more than 20 years after Lawrence of Arabia. Time flies. Part of this is in the first person, written by Cliff, the rest in the third person is by me from his notes and letters ~ Ian
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It’s not mentioned in his letter, but Cliff wrote later that he’d travelled with a group of 20-30 Kiwis heading north to rejoin the Division, which was being rested after Sidi Resegh. They were with a large number of British troops and under the command of Tommy — “Pommy” — officers. The British officers had pissed off the Kiwis by messing up their travel arrangements. Their sense of entitlement hadn’t helped either. When Cliff came across an oblivious bunch of them completely blocking the footpath he elbowed his way through them to express his displeasure while his mate walked politely around them. It became apparent at the railway station that the Brits had forgotten the Kiwis, so the New Zealanders took matters into their own hands, climbed the fence and occupied an empty carriage. Some of them apparently travelled again in a goods wagon.
The Hejaz rail line headed eastwards, south of the Sea of Galilee, then north to Damascus. The first part of the trip was over fertile plains, followed by mountains and ravines. They caught glimpses of the Sea and the River Jordan. A sign at the Syrian border informed them that they were 809 feet below sea level, and a Tommy soldier told them that the temperature had been up to 130F. There were more cultivated plains on the way up to Damascus, where they stayed the night at a transit camp. Now they were in the desert again — not as bad as Egypt and Libya but still very hot and dusty — and it was weird to see, in the distance, snow on the mountains.
The letters were becoming sparse, 3-4 weeks apart. He’d obviously been struck by his experience at Kfar Vitkin in Palestine but now his letters were mainly gossip about daily life, meeting friends, and letters, packages and news from home — understandable since he was now back in camp.
He’d been hoping to stay with his mates in K Section, attached to 5 Brigade under Brigadier Hargest, but instead he was transferred to L Section and 6 Brigade. It didn’t take long for him to get to know and admire his new commander, Brig. Clifton.
In Damascus they only had time to explore two streets of the Bazaar. Each street had a specialty and the goods displayed were “lovely”, but they only had time to see the leather goods and carpets.
“The carpets and tapestries were marvellous. I saw one which I couldn’t resist. The man wanted £24 for it. They are the biggest rogues on earth of course. I showed him a Palestinian Pound and told him that was all the money I had. After searching very carefully through my paybook to ensure there was no more money, he wanted me to borrow from Bill, but I wouldn’t play. We were in a hurry and wanted to leave the shop but he couldn’t resist the sight of the £1, so the £1 and the carpet changed hands.”
After looking around later he decided that £1 was a fair price — £1 Palestinian was worth about £9 Syrian. Unfortunately he somehow managed to post the carpet home to Dorothy without any stamps, so had to apologise for what it would cost her.
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Cliff wrote again three weeks later, on 15 June, from Aleppo, where they’d again travelled by train. ~ Ian
Part of the journey was in darkness, which provided some excitement at one stop. In the usual manner some of our former engine drivers had taken control of the train and, with knowledge gained from previous experience, stopped it about 200 yards from an eating house and brothel — they would blow the whistle when it was time to leave.
Bill and I didn’t know it was a brothel, but it would break the monotony so we took off, in the lead, and at the run, along a dark path in the blackout.
“Halt!”
I just caught a glimpse of the bayonet as it came down to the level of my stomach. Halt we did, smartly. The Sudanese sentry was as black as the night. He had panicked when we ran towards him in the dark, and we were lucky we’d put the brakes on in time and been able to pacify him.
The brothel was quite homely. There were tables and chairs, snacks and drinks available, and what appeared to be quite nice company. No pressure to buy. A chat and a drink in a relaxed atmosphere.
Bill and I sat and observed and awaited developments. Only about half a dozen others had arrived from the train, and for those interested there didn’t seem to be enough time for a quick one. A quick beer it would have to be.
Then — hello what’s this? Appearing from a passageway with a girl on his arm was Syd — not his real name. I’d known him in civilian life.
“Hello Cliff!” he said, “How’s things? What the eye doesn’t see the mind doesn’t grieve.”
The train whistle blew and we made a hasty exit. But Syd didn’t need to hurry. As a member of the Division’s Petrol Supply Company, this was probably one of his comfort stops on his regular trips. He’d been an infantryman in 21 battalion in Greece and Crete, and had told me earlier that that was not for him. He had sought a safer job, and found one, as many others did during the war.
It can be safely said that very many Return Soldiers never came within range of small arms fire. All those were allotted their duties, and had little say in what those duties would be, so they couldn’t be described as dodgers. Some were, however, and their first action soon sorted them out. Men who were unreliable were a bloody menace to the rest of us in the forward areas, and were smartly despatched to the rear.
Three of my off-siders left me. One became a Sergeant Instructor in base camp, another a Corporal in charge of the Officers’ Mess in base camp. The third did return and was wounded later on.
No job could be described as safe, of course, in war time, but it was those at the sharp end who did most of the suffering and dying. Sadly the cream, the finest of our young men, did most of the fighting, suffering and dying. As a result of two world wars we have lost too many of them, and society suffers from that loss today.
What I do say with a good deal of pride is that, when I was up at the sharp end of the action, I knew, and was absolutely confident, that I could rely on every man there to do his duty to his last breath. This did not apply when we had untried reinforcements. Then there would be a period of disquiet, and it would take a little time for things to settle down.
it was thinking of my friend Syd that brought that on. Syd was, and is, a good bloke, and who can blame him for wanting to live?
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Their quarters in Aleppo were very comfortable, a German barracks overlooking the city — two to a room, straw mattresses on the bed, electric lights. Showers and wash basins quite handy. The Kiwis had been there quite a while by the time Cliff’s group arrived. They were very popular with the kids, who swarmed all over them. The kids were great to have around, even if they were really after sweets and chocolates. But it didn’t last.