Shalom and Sheiks: 29 – Leading In The Staff Car
…From time to time the MPs had erected signs of a skull and crossbones as a reminder of the scene of some fatal accident, or, maybe, to sharpen the concentration of the drivers on the long, never-ending drive. When we stopped for lunch, the empty desert suddenly erupted with Bedouins appearing from nowhere, and carrying baskets of eggs and scraggy chickens to supplement our rations…
John Powell leads a convoy of Guardsmen into the Sinai desert.
To read earlier chapters of John’s richly enjoyable autobiography please click on Shalom And Sheiks in the menu on this page.
We left Cairo later than I anticipated, delayed partly by army red tape and also due to the detailed inspection of every vehicle and its equipment, upon which I insisted. I sent off a Sergeant and the two cooks with two ration trucks ahead of us to establish a base on the other side of the Suez Canal at a staging campsite there, and to prepare a meal for us.
We set off. Leading in a staff car destined for my CO, I saw the long convoy of trucks trailing out behind me, brought up in the rear by a Transport Sergeant of the Coldstream Guards. Slowly we threaded our way through the Cairo traffic, a staff car, thirty-five trucks, seventy Guardsmen and one brass ring with a glass diamond missing. On the way we sometimes held up the traffic as we passed, and once were held up ourselves by a long camel train.
Due to our late start, night fell long before we reached the canal — and a pitch-black night it was too. With the help of a torch on the map, I tried to establish our position in order to take a left turn down to the canal. I anticipated difficulty in any case, knowing that the army pontoon bridge was pulled in at nightfall. 'God!' I said to myself, 'If I miss this blasted turning we could finish up in Aden with a Court Martial.'
"Drive a little slower," I told my driver, "there is a left turn near here." Too late! In the glare of the headlights it flashed by as a brief glimpse.
"Blast! Missed it."
"Shall I stop, Sir?"
"No, drive on, but very gradually reduce speed to stop." A leading vehicle suddenly stopping in a day convoy is bad enough; at night it would be chaos. Looking at the map I noticed an army camp on the main road. As we approached it, we gradually slowed to a standstill. It was an Indian Army camp. I entered the Duty Office and courteously saluted the Captain on duty and said, "Me; convoy; must get canal; me want MP," raising my voice as I did so, which seems customary when an Englishman speaks English to a foreigner who does not understand, as if in some manner he will understand so much better if shouted at.
A slight smile flitted across the face of the Captain and then he replied with an impeccable Oxford University accent, "Oh, I say, really? By jove, old boy, we'll soon fix you up. I'll get an MP to guide you and also I'll buzz the pontoon blokes to open it up for you."
Thank you," I replied, "Me think you good man; me very happy you know help", and we both burst out laughing as I apologised.
The MP soon arrived to guide us down to the pontoon in the darkness. After turning half the convoy round, while leaving the other half just short of the turning, (no doubt laughing their heads off at the stupid officer who had got himself and the whole convoy in a tangle) and with me feeling like a nincompoop, we headed down to the pontoon bridge.
The MPs had opened it without a murmur. The prospect of feeding and housing seventy Guardsmen for the night was too daunting and well beyond them. Crossing the Suez Canal, we drove into the campsite and parked the vehicles in the form of a square, with the ration trucks in the middle. We fed the troops, arranged sentries and then prepared for an early rise.
At 5am the ration trucks set off ahead of us for the next camp. Then we followed shortly afterwards across the historic Sinai Desert. At times the desert was interminably flat; at others, undulating, but always monotonous, while the road was often covered with a thin layer of sand and very, very dusty, the only vegetation being a few sparse bushes here and there.
From time to time the MPs had erected signs of a skull and crossbones as a reminder of the scene of some fatal accident, or, maybe, to sharpen the concentration of the drivers on the long, never-ending drive. When we stopped for lunch, the empty desert suddenly erupted with Bedouins appearing from nowhere, and carrying baskets of eggs and scraggy chickens to supplement our rations. When we moved off again, I looked back quickly. They had all vanished. In less than a minute there was not a soul in sight.
