The days passed slowly and routinely and the sweltering summer gave way
to winter. Winter could not be described as being very cold but after
the high temperatures the contrast was palpable. On six or so nights
the water in the chatties would freeze and then we piled everything
including our greatcoats on our beds and even then we sometimes
shivered. Our huts were unheated but in some of the work huts primitive
fireplaces were made. These consisted of two low brick walls 18 inches
high, three feet long and about one foot apart. On top of these was a
steel plate that carried a funnel at its front and a flue pipe at its
rear; the funnel was fed through small pipes from two cans, one
containing water and the other containing discarded engine oil. The two
fluids dropped through the funnel on to a piece of pipe which caused
them to splatter; oil soaked rags were used to start the combustion and
then the flames quickly roared along under the steel plate and up the
flue pipe. The heat was controlled by adjusting the flow of the fluids
in the cans. Our small Drawing Office was so heated.
The office was also home to ants (small, medium and large) and red ants,
mice, termites and temporarily to visiting hornets and scorpions. The
termites built their tunnels of regurgitated wood fibre up one wall,
along the insulated electrical wires and down the central wooden roof
support to the nest that housed their queen. She was a bloated white
creature. They were constantly building, repairing and enlarging the
tunnels and nest. Red ants contested possession of this area and we
watched the perpetual battles unfold.
Arab incursions into the workshop compound were a bit of a problem and
in order to combat them the sergeant-major announced that the perimeter
fence would be mined. The mines were really hand grenades, not the
No.36 or Mills bomb but the No.69, a plastic cased type. I suggested to
him that if he were to record their position then we could add the
information to our map of the camp or record it on a separate map. He
agreed. Off he went, several hours passed and then he and a couple of
his accomplices returned. "Gimme the map." he politely requested
and I did so. Now the scale of the plan was such that the whole area
covered a sheet measuring about four feet by three feet. He looked at
it for a bit and then stabbing at it with his stubby forefinger he said,
"We put one or two here, some about there and a few in this part ----
." Relative to the scale of the plan his stubby forefinger spanned
about 20 or 30 feet so his information was useless and we never did have
an accurate record of the disposition of the mines. Presumably after
the passage of more than 50 years they have been discovered, probably to
the disadvantage of the discoverers.
Our OC had an unusual name, Bonallack that was often mispronounced as
bonny-lack and to remedy this gaffe a notice appeared on Daily Orders to
the effect that, "The Colonel wishes it to be known that in the
pronunciation of his name the accent should be placed upon the
penultimate syllable." Uncomprehending soldiers stood around the
notice-board saying things like, "Wot's 'ee mean?" or "Wot the
'ell's a penultimate syllable?" The kinder more knowledgeable types
explained it to them. Of course this lesson was purely academic for as
far as we lesser mortals were concerned we never had occasion to address
him as other than Colonel or Sir.
It fell my lot one moonlit night to stand guard on the Officers'
Quarters and I clicked for the 6-8 and the 12-2 shifts. The first
period passed uneventfully and not much was happening on the second
shift; I was wandering about, looking at the moon and counting the
grains of sand and longing for my bed when I heard shots nearby. Duty
called and I hastened to the spot where I believed they came from. In
front of me stood, or rather swayed, a Scottish lieutenant; I assumed he
was Scottish as he was wearing trews but in the British army one can
never tell. In the hand that he was slowly waving around was a smoking
Smith and Wesson. "What's up, Sir?" I enquired He continued to
sway and wave. 'shnakes," he said, 'shnakes, there's shnakes
in my bed." and he pointed. I followed his gaze to his bed that was
out in the open since it was a warm summer night; his batman had made it
nice and comfy for him complete with a tent type mosquito net. With my
bayonet I gently raised the edge of the mosquito net and prodded the
apparent corpse of the serpent; there was no movement; gaining
confidence I approached closer to solve the mystery. The snake was in
fact one of the tapes of the net, carelessly coiled on the pillow and he
had put three bullets into it. I don't think he believed me as I
assured him that all was well, I left him gently swaying and went back
to looking at the moon and counting the grains of sand.
There were some lighter moments in the desert life, near Easter time a
day's entertainment was usually organised, not quite a fairground
atmosphere but something approaching it. A few more talented types
showed of their skills on army motor cycles, some in trick riding and
others in racing. One such fanatic was Johnny Lockett who after the war
rode briefly for the Norton team until a crash involving a head injury
persuaded him to retire from racing. The main event of the day however
was the Donkey Derby where steeds were hired from local Arabs to take
part in a series of races. A sort of auction was held in which bids
were asked for various mounts; the successful bidders became the
jockeys. Some sort of prizes, I forget what, went to the winners.