I shall pass over the Turkish fiasco at the Suez Canal. Suffice it to say the thing was foredoomed to failure. Whatever hopes the enemy may have cherished of breaking through and causing a rising in Egypt were squashed by the arrival of the Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces. With those forces actually on the scene it is hard to comprehend what devil of rashness and crass folly impelled the Turkish leaders to go on with the venture. Perhaps it was pride; perhaps German influence lay back of the move; perhaps some queer twist in the Eastern character—who knows? Not I. But this I do know: they came on bravely enough—as Turks always do—and were slaughtered like sheep. It was just a glorified shooting match. Poor devils!
Reader, have you heard of the "Battle of the Streets"? That isn't its right name, but it's near enough. Anyway, it was fought in Cairo, the scene being a locality much in favour by the painted ladies for residential purposes.
No one I have spoken to seems to be quite clear as to what actually started the scrap. One yarn was to the effect that a New Zealander had been stabbed; another was that some Australians had been robbed of a biggish lot of cash. Letting the reason go, however, there is no doubt that things were fairly lively in Cairo that night, and at one time it looked an odds on chance that the whole street might have been burnt.
I happened to be in Cairo that evening having a run round in company with three mates. We had got comfortably outside an A1 dinner and a bottle of light Greek wine when the row started. As a matter of fact, we drove slap into the mix-up in a gharri, and before we got shut of it the battle had developed into a first-class slather-up. The street was packed full of Australians and New Zealanders, with here and there little groups of badly scared effendis working overtime in their efforts to get clear of the struggling mass of grim Colonials, who, to an ear-splitting accompaniment of yells, cat-calls and coo-ees, were devoting their energies to an all-round wrecking and smashing game. Crash! went a wardrobe as it struck the ground with the impetus acquired by a forty-feet fall from a top-storey balcony. R-i-p-p! went the balcony itself as it followed hard on the heels of the bedroom furniture. Hither and thither rushed the lightly-clad love-ladies screaming as only Eastern women can, and stopping only to hurl a bottle or other missile at some grinning Vandal who ducked quickly, then went on enjoying himself. Soon the street bore the appearance of a West Indian town that had bumped up against a cyclone. It was a work of art threading one's way through it with all those household gods hurtling round one's ears.
Presently the street was illuminated with a dancing red glare as the stacks of piled-up furniture broke into flame. Soon a house itself began to belch smoke and fire, the bone-dry woodwork responding eagerly to the licking tongues of flame that ran lizard-like from doorway to eave, and danced merrily through the interstices of the sun-scorched shutters and blistered piazza rails. In a minute the lofty structure was sheathed in rolling smoke clouds, pierced with darting spears of a ruddier hue; the whole house was blazing fiercely, the roar of the fire blending with the wild shouts and cheers of the excited incendiaries as they danced a mad corroboree round the burning wreckage in the street below.
Another sound—the clang of a bell—broke on our ears as the fire-engines came racing up. Out came the hose; the police, who had hitherto remained in a state of "armed neutrality," endeavoured to clear a way for the native firemen. That settled them; no Colonial will stand the touch of a nigger's hand on his shoulder.
"Rush the adjectived, asterisked, double-starred sons of lady dogs, boys!"
The "boys" did so. I never saw a command obeyed so promptly and with such unanimity. The black police were just as quick to appreciate the general unhealthiness of the locality, and left with one accord. The firemen, bereft of their lawful guardian angels, followed. The hose was cut, and the engines were captured. This done the mob proceeded with the work they had set out to accomplish—the cleaning up of one of Cairo's cesspools.
Another interruption! This time from the "Red Caps," the military police, a little coterie of well-fed, rather pampered, and intensely self-consequential johnnies who were openly accused by the Australasians of suffering from "cold feet." Perhaps this was just a bit unfair, as they knew Cairo like a book, and knew all there was to know about their own special job. But our chaps could never understand why an active man of military age and training should remain permanently on a soft town job (as they did) instead of going on active service with the other boys. Come to think of it, who could? And some of the military police I have run into have had feet like refrigerated mutton. They didn't join the army to be shot at. Not much! Which perhaps accounts for their zeal in hunting down the unfortunate Tommies who, coming home from the front wounded or on leave after a pleasant little spell of "killing or being kilt," may have neglected to salute an officer, to have buttoned up their greatcoats, or committed some other such grave military offence—running him down, I say, and seeing to it that the erring one received every single day of "C.B." that hard swearing could procure him. Such, in far too many cases, is their conception of soldiering.... And the previous sentence reads for all the world like an Irish bull. All the foregoing by the way, however.
The police behaved like looneys. They seemed to imagine they had a mob of English Tommies or niggers to deal with, but when they began trying to force their horses on top of the crowd they soon dropped down to the fact that they were up against something tougher. They were told pretty straight to go home and eat pie and not come meddling round where they weren't wanted. They didn't like being treated that way and showed it, so they had to be shoo'd off. At this they seemed to lose their top covering altogether, and, being armed with revolvers, opened fire on the crowd.