Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel) (20 page)

By 11.0 pm, however, the one thousand strong chain of camels had arrived and the soldiers who had remained in Pelusium set about the task of sorting them and loading them with supplies and ammunition. Despite a lack of understanding and knowledge of these big beasts, the work was performed with great enthusiasm and good humour. The convoy was soon on its way again carrying its precious load of water, blankets and ammunition and the 1/8 Lancashires prepared themselves for their own imminent departure.

They had heard that when the three Manchester battalions had arrived at the front, the sight of them, lining up with the mounted Anzac Brigade and preparing to attack, had proved sufficient to persuade the already weary Turks that perhaps this wasn’t their chosen time for glory. They turned in their thousands and fled, chased by the determined Allied troops. The sight of this retreating army, however, was almost eclipsed during the night by the vision of a thousand camels, many carrying water in fanatis on their backs, trudging out of the desert night. The Manchester men had endured a long march through the blazing desert without food or water and now these huge animals were like angels bringing deliverance from their parched agony.

The next morning, having made a start in the early hours, Edward, Liam and Big Charlie found themselves in the front line of Allied troops marching in pursuit of the fleeing Turkish army. They were in high spirits and as they marched they laughed, joked, sang songs and smoked cigarettes and pipes. As they progressed they collected souvenirs of bayonets, belts, caps and badges from the bodies of dead Turkish soldiers that lay in the slowly embracing sand.

Their respect for the Turks, who had so recently made the long distance march across this vast, open desert, grew as the day wore on. The glaring sun rose higher in the cloudless sky and the heat became stifling. As they marched through the treeless landscape the heat radiated from the sides of the low hills and turned the valleys into ovens. Their bodies ran with the sweat that poured out of them but they were told to conserve their water supplies because the support units were so far behind. The yielding sand sapped the strength from their legs as they trudged wearily through this huge desert expanse towards the blinding heat haze of the horizon.

The Lancashire soldiers became increasingly affected by this relentless, oppressive heat. They discarded the souvenirs that they had collected earlier in the day and tried to focus on dragging one weary foot after the other. Some collapsed with sunstroke and were left under a temporary shade formed by a blanket draped over a rifle until they could, hopefully, be collected later by the support units.

Edward had become increasingly concerned for the sweating Big Charlie. When he had asked him how he was coping he had replied that he ‘felt hotter than an iron-caster’s arse.’

Edward and Liam had shared their water supply with their desperately struggling friend and their efforts to keep him going had provided a temporary distraction from their own troubles. By the late afternoon, on the outer limits of their reserves of strength, they heard a shout from the front of the column. Looking up, they could see the looming bulk of Mount Meredith where they were to bivouac that night. Spurred by this welcoming sight, they drove themselves forward and, as the cooling, evening air provided welcoming relief from the heat of the day, they dragged their aching limbs up the slopes to the ridge.

The whole of the area was littered with the corpses of hundreds of dead Turkish soldiers and, as they achieved the vantage point of the ridge, they could see in the distance the cavalry pursuing the fleeing Turks. Out at sea an Allied ship was lobbing shells into the ranks of the retreating army, the explosions echoing with a dull clumping from the surrounding hills.

The stop brought only shallow relief for the British soldiers, however. As the sky darkened the night temperature plummeted. There had been very little food or water to sustain their weakened bodies and they had been told that the following day they were to march on to Qatia where the enemy had established a strong and determined defence. There was little hope of improving the situation regarding the food and water because many of the natives who were bringing the supplies had been stampeded by enemy shell fire. The prospect of a repeat of the day that they had just endured was profoundly depressing to these shattered, hungry men as they scooped out hollows in the sand and lay down, hoping to snatch a few hours sleep in the bitter cold of the Egyptian night.

At 3.00am the next morning, the tired, hungry soldiers were woken up and prepared for the agonies of another day’s march through the desert. Liam, having vowed not to pee because he wasn’t prepared to part unnecessarily with another drop of water out of his body, had gone for a walk to stretch his legs and to check on the condition of some of his mates. Edward tidied himself up the best that he could and, shivering in the bitter cold of the clear night, he wearily packed away his few belongings.

‘Eddie, Eddie.’ He could hear Liam shouting his name but couldn’t see him. He stood up to get a better view and saw Liam running over the ridge and waving frantically. ‘Come up here quick. They’re here. We’re saved. You’ll never believe it. Bloody Norah. We’re saved. Yeheeee.’

Edward struggled up towards his excited pal and followed his urgently pointing finger. Peering out into the eerily lit desert that they had so recently crossed he at first saw nothing. Then his eye caught a slight movement. He stared, trying to focus, not daring to believe what he was seeing. It couldn’t be true. He had been told about mirages that appeared before you in the desert but that was only during the day. He held his breath and stared again. He could see the movement more clearly now and he jumped into the air, threw his arms around Liam, and they danced round and round like demented clockwork dolls, whooping and shouting.

Eventually, they stopped, breathless, and, for the benefit of the crowd that had now joined them, pointed down to the plain where the long line of camels snaking slowly towards them was more clearly visible. Many of them had fantasse – the large water tanks – strapped to their backs whilst others carried food and other precious supplies. When they approached closer, the cheering soldiers saw that some of the camels were carrying the casualties that had dropped out on the previous day’s march.

Liam did a jig down the hill, hands in the air, and made a dash for the first, water-laden, camel. ‘Just look at this lovely fella,’ he shouted, pointing at the camel’s native minder who was plodding morosely along holding a rope attached to the animals halter. ‘Did you ever see such a thing of beauty? The man is an angel sent to save us.’

He lunged forward, intending to show his gratitude with a manly, welcoming hug. The Egyptian, slightly less certain about the apparent amorous intentions of this wild looking British soldier, ducked under the camel’s head and Liam was left grasping the dusty neck of the big beast. Camels are renowned for being both bad tempered and unsociable, especially after a long trek through the desert, and Liam found himself inches away from two flaring black, cavernous, nostrils and large, thick lips furled back to reveal big, brown, slab teeth. From the depths of its body it emitted a low belching growl, accompanied by a noxious vapour, straight into Liam’s startled face. He jumped away with alacrity. ‘Bloody Hell. That smelt worse than the Grapes on a Sunday morning.’

The columns of troops eventually moved off at 4.00am. Alongside them were the cavalry and the heavy artillery guns being hauled along by large teams of horses. They were refreshed by the food and water although this was strictly limited. The ration was less than one pint of water per man and the order had been given that no one was to have a drink without the permission of a commanding officer. But as the sun rose in the sky, the day grew rapidly hotter. The conditions became as unbearable as the day before and the desperate soldiers forced themselves forward through the soft sand.

After eight hours of marching in the insufferable heat, during which many had gone down with heatstroke, they saw the green tops of the trees that heralded the approach to Qatia. Their spirits were lifted again, they pushed their weary bodies into covering the last, short distance to the beckoning oasis and their befuddled brains struggled to focus on the confrontation that awaited them.

They finally reached Qatia in the early afternoon and were almost disappointed to find that the Turkish army had already departed. The Turks, by now, had lost over half of their army and they had decided that the desert was a safer prospect than facing the formidable army that was approaching them.

The disappointment of the British soldiers was compounded when they discovered that, despite the clearly thriving trees growing in the area, there was no water. Rumours went round that an underground supply was available two feet below the surface and, over the next hour, holes started to appear all over the camp as frantic soldiers searched for the precious liquid. Fortunately, as they were reaching the point of desperation, a camel train arrived carrying supplies of food and water and, once again, these ugly beasts with their patchy, vermin ridden hides and their unpleasant habits were greeted with rapturous cheering by the Lancashire soldiers.

The men, so used at home to seeing excessive amounts of water falling freely and, often, inconveniently out of the skies, sipped at the now scarce liquid with a reverential relish. They rolled drops of it with sensuous delight around their mouths, experienced its pleasure as though it was nectar from the hands of some lustrous goddess, and then let it slide caressingly down their throats.

Their thirsts slaked for the moment, Edward and Liam went to root out Big Charlie who they found prostrated and gently snoring in his bivouac. They explained to him that they had volunteered the three of them for a scouring party to go out in the desert to find and bring back casualties. After a long succession of loudly repeated ‘Sod Offs’ from the big man they managed to persuade him to his feet and to adopt a minimum of a half-interested expression.

***

29 Myrtle Street

Cross Lane

Salford 5

Great Britain

15th July 1916

Dear Dad,

Something very sad has happened to Miss Howard because when I went to Sunday School at the Mission she was in the Church Hall by herself playing the piano and crying so much she was dripping on the keys. I stood near Mrs Willoughby whilst she was talking to Elsie Craddock’s Mother and she told her that Miss Howard had had some bad news from the Somme (Mam told me how to spell Somme. She said it is foreign.) Mrs Willoughby said that Miss Howard had been sat there crying all day playing the same music called ‘Jesu Joy of Man’s Desirings’ and she wouldn’t talk to anyone.

I asked Mam how they would get the piano keys dry because you can’t get a cloth down those little gaps between the keys and she said it is not important because her sweetheart must have been killed. She said that she should have got married when she wanted to but she didn’t because her Mam was a widow and was pulling her face. Mam told Billy Murphy’s Mam when she came round and said now she might never know. I asked her what she might never know but she just said that I was too young to understand and, anyway, I was supposed to be washing the pots. I heard Mrs Murphy telling Mam that he shouldn’t have been in the army but some woman had given him a white feather. That must be some kind of secret code.

I told Mam that perhaps she had better go and get Miss Howard and give her a cigarette like she did with Edith Hardcastle’s Mam or else she might stay there for ever. She said God will put his arm round her and comfort her and I told her that Reverend Williams was trying to do that when I left and he is God’s spokesman but he wasn’t having any luck.

Thank you for the headband that you sent for my birthday. I really like it and I saved it and wore it at Whit Week with my new dress that Mam had made. I told everyone that it was from Egypt and that you had bought it from near where Jesus came from. I told Uncle Jim about the carpenters and he said to ask you if you have come across any nice stables.

Our Mary has started in the beginners’ class at Sunday School and I had to sit with her the first time because she was frightened of old Mr Hillman whose nose is always running. She was alright last week because Mrs Hillman was there and she told the story about Jesus feeding thousands of people with a bit of bread and some fish.

Mam said that I can help her tomorrow to make another fruit cake for you. She said that it depends a bit on what our Edward can fetch home but we should be alright although sometimes it might be handy if Jesus could come round here and do his trick with the bread and the fish.

Love

Laura

PS Mrs Murphy told Mam that she had had a letter from her Liam and he’d had an accident with the toilet. She used some naughty words about him but then asked God to forgive her so that it would be alright.

***

‘This bloody, sodding war. Just when you think that you are coping something else comes along and kicks you in the balls.’

Hearing the agonized cry from his friend, Edward looked up from his letter to see Liam, his own post scattered on the sand in front of him, holding his bowed head with his clenched fists as his body was shaken by a deep, racking sob. A slight evening breeze blowing through the doorway of the bivouac fluttered the letters then left them still again at Liam’s feet.

‘What’s the matter, mate? Is there anything I can do?’ Edward searched for suitable words but felt inadequate in the face of this surprise show of naked grief. Liam, in all the thirty years that he had known him, had coped with any difficulty with a shrug of the shoulders, a laugh and a joke. They had been to infant school together, played football together, swum in the nude in the lake at Ordsall Park and shared the same bed when Liam’s mother had been confined with his young sister. The close bond between them was never discussed or even thought about. It was just there. Now Edward felt slightly uncomfortable and totally unprepared as he witnessed the turmoil that his friend was trying to contain.