ROYAL MILITARY POLICE - 1945-48
"Lasting Memories of the Middle East"
As Remembered By Bill Perrett
The notable occasions that come to mind from those times are often re-visited,
raising a smile, as I search further in my thoughts from those amazing periods
some 70 years before.
The Cairo MP Patrols were probably the most notable being etched in my mind as if yesterday, some were decidedly bizarre, others interesting to say the least.
Several times I came across the Friday prayers in the city, when we observed the necessary respect. Watching briefly a mass of worshipers on the pavements, before we slipped quietly away as being only concerned with British Troops. It was something to witness the huge numbers at serious prayer.
The Mogador nightclub was one of the regular haunts of various service personnel over the war years, when apparently mayhem had been unleashed. Not so in my time when the numbers in the big city were diminishing fast, though we would still make the visit. It was notable where similar areas of entertainment provided so-called perks to Police, when it was all very soberly dealt with. This club, while not large looked immense, with walls covered floor-to-ceiling with large mirrors. Two of us would quietly arrive among the civilian and military who were enjoying a visit, to sit at a side table when within moments a tray with two glasses of Sherry would arrive. It was a guarantee we would always be there to quell any troop disorder, now a courtesy from the very different past when the many police would deal with urgent issues. At no time did we have a conversation with anyone; our thank you was a nod as we quietly slipped away. We were invisible to the normal club business.
Another pleasant call was the unlikely Opera House. There was an obscured side door of the large ornate building which we entered into a hallway, then a short stairway to a room upstairs where a dining table was fully laid up, complete with a freshly laundered table cover. As it by clockwork a smartly dressed waiter appeared through a curtain covered opening, and silently served the meal with a drink. There was no eye contact from the man who vanished as soon as he had served.
Today’s travelers to Egypt would perhaps wonder over our strange visit to the Pyramids. This would have been well after midnight when on a joint British/Egyptian mobile patrol. The skies were clear with a hint of the early dawn, when we were introduced to the “Night-watchman” who was looking after the historical site. This burly Egyptian was seated in a tented area, when we were invited to take coffee with him. Small cups of the strong black liquid were not a thirst quencher, but the flavour was amazing. There were serious thoughts of our visiting the actual Pyramids using his large torch, but unfortunately we had to move on. A real moment of magic lost!
When the so-called international patrols were over it was normal to return
the officer to his house as it was the middle of the night. The usual Major
lived deep in a part of the old town of Cairo which provided a setting for a
serious fantasy drama. At three in the morning it was normal to encounter a
strange swirling coloured mist, as we proceeded
along unmade narrow roads to reach his darkened house. Not a district to linger
long.
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Our leisure time in Egypt, at Cairo or perhaps Alexandria when not in the tasteless barracks amounted to visiting The Blue Kettle services club near Heliopolis, or the Red Cross clubs. A popular one with us was in fact the Alex, when we would have a simple meal or cup of tea. It gave us a chance to enjoy a different dish we would not have been served in the canteen. A moment to discuss our world, and chat to the staff who were Egyptians or from elsewhere in Africa. One civilian worker in particular was from Sudan, a happy guy. I was short of cash one evening before we were paid and he stood me a meal. I was touched by that friendly gesture and made sure he was repaid the next evening.
A group of us had an afternoon by the Suez Canal when we went for a dip. I can’t remember any shipping that got in our way. However, I was determined to swim to the other side as it looked any easy distance. But it was not that simple. I paused when my eyes drew level with the water; it now seemed a swim too far. I trod the water to consider my next move and glanced at my watch, it was probably time to return to Cairo. But the face of the watch was flooded with water, it was done with so I undid the simple strap and cast the timepiece into the Suez water.
After the evening patrols we returned to the Cairo Barracks where there was a chance to have refreshments from a mobile tea wagon. This facility was only there for such occasions and run by a local lad and his mate. The “Boss” of the duo was quite a short chap who we used to rag with good humour. He sported a red fez and he kept calling out “Chai – hot tea”. We called him Sudanny, as he was dark skinned. His friend who cleared up wore a white skull cap and remained completely silent and expressionless during the periods of banter.
The area around our barracks was not the best part of Cairo although it was
near the main railway station. We would cross a road from our main depot to
opposite where our quarters were situated and pass though an open gate to reach
the entrance. A cluster of shoeshine boys were usually gathered there and gave
us a lot of cheek by seeking custom to polish our boots. They would even line
up and salute us! We usually declined and there was no problem with that. Out
in the streets it could be a different matter for the population; the boys would,
in desperation, pester fold to clean their shoes when often a refusal could
mean the contents of the liquid polish splashed over their clothes.
