4th October, 1943: Back to Camp

This was our last morning, and by way of a favour, we asked for eggs, chips and tomatoes for breakfast. Our wishes were granted. We were really sorry to have to leave, but that sinking feeling that one faces when returning to Camp in England, was not present. Joe, our servant showed some regret when he knew we were leaving. I had begun to think that the smile on his face was a fixture, and was really surprised to see concern written on his face. He was really human. Good old Joe - I wish more of us were like him, wearing a pleasant smile at all times. We left the hotel, and stood on the corner hoping for a lift back. We had not long before we were in a bus lorry. We passed through some of the worst districts one could expect to see anywhere. Poverty was written on everything - the people, the buildings, and the whole districts. Most places seemed in ruins - and little better than the ruins of out houses on a derelict farm yard in Britain. Some people, filthy and ill-clad, lay in the dust anywhere where they might have peace to sleep. There was little to distinguish between man and animal - they were just a bunched up massof humanity lying in the dirt, their hair filthy and matted for the want of washing it. Poverty could not be blamed for this, they were filthy in habit due to neglect and ignorance. These great cities are, so we are told in books, romantic, mystic and beautiful, but one must see the back streets as well as the main streets to know what a city is really like. It is almost like looking at a beautiful apple that is rotten at the core. We crossed the new causeway, one side appears to be a salt lake - white and glittering, the other side seemed to be fresh water - or maybe, sea water. Wer were put down about fifteen miles out of the city - in the desert again. We were really in the desert, on the road, and the loneliness of it is most impressive. A few Arab tents, if a network of sticks and sacking can be called such, a few camels and donkeys lying down - what a life these people lead. This life appears to be one long struggle to live a life that seems hardly worth living. We had another lift almost to the check post, and in a few moments we were in another waggon on our way to Camp. We stopped at "Half-Way House" for some refreshments. The journey is a really tiring one, and the only thing of interest along the whole road are the mile stones, distances being in kilos. When Cairo West came into sight, it was the first time in my history in the services when I was really glad to see a Camp after leave. The journey had taken us three and a half hours. Back in the mess, we quenched our thirst with glass after glass of lime. It was good to be back. I did miss Joe coming in at the last moment to see if we wanted anything - but once in bed, I was soon asleep.