‘I understand.’
‘You might feel like a bit of a girl, but even if you’re going to the karzi after dark take someone with you. You’re one of Mr Watson’s staff, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then my advice to you, sir, is to get in a bit of guard duty as soon as you can – get used to moving around the compound in the dark. Get used to what it looks like.’
‘OK. Tell me about the states of alert, SWO . . .’
‘They are levels of alert, sir . . . for that read danger – for British personnel in the Canal Zone. That is anywhere in the Canal Zone, got it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Red is danger – meaning you won’t leave camp until you’re ordered to, and when you do you carry a fully loaded side arm at all times. Please understand that the bastards out there will try to kill you. Usually mob-handed, so we can’t pin down the killers afterwards. Soldiers and airmen have been kicked to death, beaten and drowned, shot, carved up . . . you name it. Couple of months ago they kidnapped one of our bus drivers, and tossed his bits back over the wire later that night. They even raped and killed a nun for being a teacher in an English school. Your Egyptian is neither a stable nor a nice man, and never will be in my opinion . . . and this is serious stuff I’m telling you. Got it?’ I nodded. I wonder if he noticed my involuntary swallow. He probably did, as SWOs don’t miss much. ‘Red-Amber is only one notch down . . . you’re usually going to be OK outside the camp, but if anything happens to you I’d probably say it served you right for being out there. Amber is more or less OK . . . but you’re expected to carry a pickaxe handle with you outside the wire at all times, and if you see a British soldier in trouble, you’re expected to wade in with it. Got that? Green is OK. It means that some silly bugger has decided that the British serviceman will be safe out here, wherever he goes. If you believe that then you’re thicker than you look, sir.’
‘I’ve just been given a ninety-six, and had decided to see a bit of Egypt, Ismailia or Port Said. Now you’ve almost changed my mind.’
‘Good, that means you may be safe out there, sir, and I’ve done my duty.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, sir. In Egypt you never ask a policeman, despite the old song. On-duty policemen are off-duty terrorists. They’ll direct you up a dark alley to get a good kicking or worse . . . and don’t follow a Gyppo offering you a young virgin, or cheap gold jewellery, as you’re bound to end up in the Sweet Water with a knife between your ribs.’
I leaned back in my chair. It creaked, reminding me of my earlier doubts.
‘Someone else told me that about the cops. You make it sound more dangerous down here on the Canal than out in the desert.’
‘I’m glad you’ve worked that out, sir, because it is. Lastly, keep your papers and your wallet buttoned into a pocket. The clubs are full of girls with long fingers, and while one hand’s in your fly the other will be robbing you blind. End of sermon – sorry.’
I grinned. Grinning is one of the things I’m good at, so I do it a lot. ‘No. It’s exactly what I needed. Are there areas of Ismailia or Port Said out of bounds?’
‘I’ll give you the street maps we’ve xeroxed; they’re clearly marked. I’ve made them up into a small booklet – with Cairo, Suez and Alex as well.’
‘OK. Thanks. Today’s alert is actually amber – it said so on your noticeboard outside: so where do I collect a pick handle?’
‘At the gate. And there’s a big box of johnnies there as well – make sure you take a pocketful.’
As I left him, I recognized a feeling I’d had since I’d landed. It was as if I was being watched all the time, and not by the Brits. It was a feeling that I’d met in Bremen at the end of the war, and I hadn’t liked it then either.
I went up to Ismailia in the back of a three-tonner which had come forward on a milk run from one of the Army bases. There was no cover on the wagon bed and we sat with our arses on the floor and our heads below the level of the cab so the wires couldn’t reach us.
Oh yeah, the guy I squeezed in alongside was Roy Rogers. He said, ‘Hello, sir. Off for a few days?’
‘Yeah, Roy. What about you?’
‘I drew a forty-eight after that little lot.’
‘They gave me ninety-six.’
‘Yer an officer. You need it.’ He had a wicked grin himself. ‘You meeting someone tonight?’
‘No, I thought I’d get a look at Ismailia or Port Said.’
‘I’m not doing anything; I’ll show you round Ish if you like?’
‘That would be great: get me started.’
The pickaxe handles carried by the Brown Jobs were bigger than mine. I resolved to swap one as soon as I could, and keep it. What made me laugh was that they all had a WD stamp and a painted number on them, and that upside-down arrow. Somewhere some poor clerk would be busy tallying them up. It was a smooth old road, and because I couldn’t see a horizon from my seat on the truck bed, the heat soon began to get to me. My head began to nod, and my eyes closed. When I opened them again we had stopped outside the Blue Kettle club.
Rogers said, ‘C’mon,’ and hopped over the tailboard. We handed our packs up to the driver, with an instruction for him to drop them off at a billet near the
