LIFE ON THE SUEZ

Grey River Argus, 15 February 1929, Page 6

LIFE ON THE SUEZ

PAGEANT OF WARTIME. WHEN RACES MINGLE. I-wish that I had been on the bank of the Suez Canal tho other day to see the Singapore dock pass (writes W. R.B. in the Melbourne Argus). I would have stood, on the high, sandy slope at tho old military camp of Scrapeuni, in the shade of that w-elcome belt of trees, to conjure up afresh the memories of wonderful war years, the passing ships, scarcely moving, the activity all round, the great desert yonder, a blazing sun above, and happy-go-lucky soldiers in their thousands. I wish that I had seen the dock, just a’, 13 or 14 years ago, we watched the liners, th e warships, and the sprightly launches steam by, to the aeompaniment of cheers and coo-ees, the Marseillaise, ” or the National Anthem, and the inevitable banter. Of the war-time preparations, those op the canal were unique in the picturesqueness and strangene's of their se'ting, in the variety of happenings in the mingling of races, in the transformation of a peaceful and quiet waterway, into a series of strong defence posts, with advance lines being til rust quickly into the desert, Toussom, Gabel Miriam, El Kantara (rapidly developing into an immense dump). Deversoir, Ferry ami pretty Ismailia —they bring back memories.

In the earlier months of 1916 there were many- thousands of Australians camped in or near the banks of the Canal. Some had arrived from Australia and others from Gallipoli, seasoned warriors, brown and muscular, with wondrous stories of fighting to unfold to the latecomers. Battalions had come down from Tel-el-Kebir to the little railway station of Ain Goshien. at the back of Scrapeuni, full of tales of Gallipoli, and unforgettable, Cairo. Others had travelled by rail to Abd el Rahman, and others again reached tho Canal zone by ship including the Ceramic.

Some'imes croivded troopships, strangely camouflaged, passed, with khaki-dressed Tommies packed at the railings and in the rigging, chattering Incessantly. They were bound for In,dia, or the Perian Gulf, or returning. As the ship moved by there was much arm signalling, much cheering to be repeated as other camps would be passed. Hurriedly a band would be brought o the Canal bank if a warship appeared, as they often did, cruisers, monidestroyers, British and French. The Canal was a delightful place for bathing, and always round the ships there could be seen the black heads of Australian swimmers, most of them exchanging news with those on board, or endeavouring to catch gif s hurled from the deck.

Not only Australians were there. For a while Serapeum sheltered nug- ■ get'y Ghurkas and Hyderabad Lancers, tall, good-looking men, content in leisure hours to squat ia their tents, and endeavour to converse with the soldiers from southern sias sealing their friendship with presents of brown, crisp distasteful cigarettes, or even a cooked preparation somewhat resembling flour paste. “Johnnie,” they called us. if Johnnie-Hyderabad Lancer —brothers,” some had learned to say. Every day swarms of “Gippos,” arrived to assist in the canal works, a motley crowd, burrowing in the sand like so many ants, though not so industriously. These hordes of noisy workers, scorned wheelbarrows, using hundreds of buckets instead, so that they looked like children on the seashore building mighty castles. What joy it gave them to receive our cigarettes, and what fun to see one of their foremen descending upo.i them pellmell to drive them about their work, while lie did the begging himself. Camel-men came, sometimes a long line.,of them, with water for the troops. This was carried in containers strapped on either side of the camel’s hunip. How precious the water was!. Behind the camp stood a well-equipped canteen, wj.th the du’ky “George” ' as one of its most popular attendants, an export in the provision of “eggs-a cook.” The announcement of refresh-

meats on sale included ‘ ‘Limonade. ’ ’ “Soiid e Water.” and ‘‘Bacon Eggs.” with the assurance that ail were of the “bestes qualite.” Many will remember the commotion on the arrival of a draft of men from Tel-el-Kebir, and how in their wrath at a supposed injustice they almost wrecked the canteen sending the native attendants scurrying in dismay over the waste of sand. Across the canal the heavy, hardworked punt moved almost continuously, to and fro, always crowded with men, horses, camels, and war material.

‘‘Get to it, Achmed,” orders a tall Australian. “La! La!” protested the native passenger. “Get to it!” The order was repeated wi h emphasis. ‘‘Work your passage, or over you go! ” The Australian menacingly advanced, and Achmed took his position at the punt handle with his fellow courttrymen, to go through the task more or less graciously chanting with the oth ers meanwhile. Down the stream again went the trim little launch Alouetta, a familiar

friend. Moored to the bank were native craft, with long curved masts, im which the members of the crew wfft S induced to elimb and hang ly from the extremi’y for the rewardof half a piastre. A bugle sounded, and the men of one of the brigades converged to their parade ground for more practice in modern warfare. All is changed. Scrapeum no longer shows activity; the high, sandy banks' are practically deserted. Th e Si.iga-’ pore dock probably parsed that way without a single encouraging cheer. ' ' £ >•