Open Writing

A few days later, my Chief was in Horns and he sounded me out about another tour of two years. I voiced my thoughts to him and he listened, silent and understanding.

"It seems to me," I said, "That it will never be the same again for us in the Middle East now. British influence is on a rapid decline. The British 'Raj' is dying."

"No, Johnny, you are wrong there. British influence, derived from power, strength and battleship diplomacy, has already gone; now she must rely more and more on political influence. The British Raj is not dying at all. The British Raj is dead! Dead in the Middle East; dead in India; dead in the Sudan; dead in Pakistan. You made one big mistake, my boy."

"What was that?"

'You were bom one generation too late. My generation has enjoyed it all. You and your generation have missed the boat for the life of a Raj, I am afraid." He paused, then continued, "Your best bet is the USA or the Dominions. Of one thing I am sure — wherever you finish up, I bet you'll make a go of it. You have seen nationalism growing in Syria, Iraq and Egypt; I am sure it will spread to all the smaller, emerging nations. Yes, the British Raj is dead but shed no tears for him for, very often, he was not a pretty sight. How about living in England?" He stopped, laughed, then continued, "Heavens above, I should not be talking to you like this. I am supposed to be encouraging you to sign on for another two years but, to be honest, you have forty years to go to retirement. God knows what the Middle East will be like then. I don't think that you, or any other Britisher, would complete the distance. Let me know what you decide."

"I think I can do that now: I'll be leaving I am afraid; leaving very reluctantly. I love these countries and the Arabs, but it's time to go; the warning signs are there for the future."

"I think you are doing the right thing, Johnny. Good luck. I really will be sorry to lose you." He grinned. "After all, when you go, whom shall I send off on all the nasty sticky assignments?" We both laughed and shook hands.

"I enjoyed them all, every single minute," I said.

"Yes, I know you did, that was one reason that I sent you. The other reason was that I knew I could rely on you to sort things out and so save my ulcers from giving me merry hell." He was right, there was no future; what he had said to me voiced my own thoughts. What a big disappointment. I realised that my planning had been all wrong. After the Guards 1 should have gone to Oxford University for a Law degree, including Islamic Law: then I should have gone to the London School of Oriental Studies, for a one year, concentrated, course in Arabic, so that I could talk it properly as well as read and write it. After that, I could have presented myself to the Diplomatic Corps as a specialist in Arabic. As the Arabs, who are great fatalists, would say about it, "Issma!" — 'Fate', and then have added, "Hake ed donia" — That's the world', or, 'That's life'.