Penniedarling

 Just look at this boy, he was 18 when this photo was taken, just a baby.

In 1915, cousins Bert and Raymond Bishop follow in Ray's older brother Harold footsteps and join the Army, they are sent to Cairo before they head to France to fight in WW1.

My Great Grandfather Alex Long was a Captain and stationed in Cairo.

Bert survived the War and wrote this book but his cousins Harold and Ray died in battle.

An excerpt from Bert's book -  Bert is telling the story, the cousins have arrived in Cairo.

Back in our hut after church parade next morning we heard a runner calling out.  As he came nearer we got his words.
"Private R. C. Bishop!  Where the blazes is Private R. C. Bishop?"
"He's looking for you Ray, get out and see what the trouble is."
"Found you at last. You're R. C. Bishop, Ninth of the Nineteenth?  You're wanted at the orderly room."
I accompanied Ray, waiting outside.
In a moment he rejoined me.
"The C.O. quizzed me at first," he said.  "He seemed puzzled.  He made sure I was the man he wanted, even had a look at my pay book."

     It appeared a message had arrived, addressed to Ray, from Shepheard's Hotel, Cairo.  Shepheard's was headquarters for all British troops in the Cairo-Canal zone.  It was a beehive of beautifully-uniformed officers, red tabs, brass tokens of rank, glitter, shine and swank canes.  What an ordinary private could have to do with top headquarters had the C.O. puzzled.
"What do you know about Shepheard's?"
"Nothing Sir.  We saw it one day as we strolled by and knew it was no place for us."
Would you by any chance know an officer, staff, of course, stationed there?"
"I have an Uncle on General Wallack's Staff, aide-de-camp or adjutant or something.  If General Wallack is at Shepheard's  my uncle may be there also."
"What is your Uncle's name?"
"Long --- Alex Long.  He came over a week or two before us.  He was a captain back home, I think he's a major now."
"That must explain it," the C.O. said.  'A private and Shepheard's just do not dovetail at all.  Here, take the message."

     The note said, briefly:  "Meet me at gate, Shepheard's Hotel at two pip-emma. Uncle Alex."
     We reached the gate a few minutes before two.  A guard, rifle beautifully sloped, everything about him shining, full of dignity, was doing his beat to-and-fro in front of the gate.
     He took no notice of us at first, such trash as infantry privates were well below his army grading as guard at Shepheard's.
     As we loitered by the kerb he at last stopped his beat and turned to face us.
"What do you two think you are doing here? Hanging about this gate isn't allowed.  Get along, quick."
     Ray was quicker to rile than I was.
"Get along yourself.  We have an appointment for just right here at two pip-emma.  We're keeping it."
"You're not.  Now clear out at once.  Do you know that I can call out the guard and have you arrested?"
"Call out your guard, we'd enjoy being arrested at the gate of Shepheard's."
     The guard seemed taken aback.
"Who is your appointment with?  I think you're a pair of liars.  You've got ten seconds to clear out, then I call out the guard."
     Hurried footsteps were coming down the path to the gate.  Uncle Alex joined us.
"It's great to see you again," he said as he warmly shook hands with Ray, then me.  No need to ask how you are.  You both look one hundred per cent."
     Our Guard was looking foolish and embarrassed.  Uncle Alex turned to him.
"These fellows have been upsetting you?  I'm not surprised, I know them better than you do."
"I'm sorry, Sir.   I thought they were trying to put one over me."
     Ray butted in.  "Do you know Uncle, this chap was going to have us arrested , court-martialed and shot."
     Uncle laughed heartily.  He said to the guard:  "Don't apologize, you did the right thing.  It's my fault, I was a few minutes late.
     I remembered how I immediately liked Uncle Alex the first time I met him.  The guard did the same.
     We did the Zoo, the Citadel, some museum, and in between there was always something of interest to watch in the seething streets and bazaars.
     Uncle looked at his watch.  "I have to be back on duty at eight o'clock.  We've got time to enjoy a meal."
     He took us to Groppi's restaurant.  Ray and I knew Groppi's --- from the outside.  Inside was no place for non-commissioned ranks.  Like Shepheard's Hotel it was usually crammed with officers adorned with shinning brass and red tabs.  There was no notice to say so but it was generally understood that Groppi's was out of bounds to ordinary troops.
     Ray and I halted at the entrance.
"We're not allowed in here, Uncle Alex," Ray said, "This place is for heads only."
    Uncle Alex told him that rank and file men were admitted provided they were guests of top-rankers.
"There's not a non-commissioned man inside,"  I said as I looked in.
"That's good," said Uncle.  "There will be two right away.  Most of that swank and glitter in there is carried by staff officers who don't go to any war.  You two are fair dinkum men who provide the show for these chaps to ride on.  If they try to throw you two out I'm in it with you."
     We went in, finding a table to one side of the room.  Up raised eyebrows, astounded expressions, looks of sheer disbelief, were everywhere.
     Uncle quite unperturbed, saw us seated comfortably and picked up a menu.
     A waiter, a dazed look about him, took the order.
     It was a good meal, the unwelcome look of the glances all around us having no effect on our appetites.  Finishing the meal in slow motion Uncle asked us many questions.  How did we feel about the army, the war?  Were we sorry we had enlisted?  did we write home regularly? how much had we seen of Cairo? Make sure you see the Pyramids, you'll have next weekend here, make it a must, it will be your last chance.

Alex asked the boys many questions and the boys told him of all the places they had seen... one story had Alex laughing out loud...

     Uncle's chair tilted back.  He laughed so heartily that the whole crowd of customers looked towards us.
     
I caught a voice nearby saying something like --- "Those beastly Orstralians, they are quate-quate impossible. My dear chappie, they are hardly civilised bai Jove."

     I felt some embarrassment, but it disappeared completely when I caught the eyes of two of our Aussie Light-Horsemen some feet away.  They were both Captains and were enjoying the situation.  One even winked at me.

Bert and Ray made it to the Pyramids.

Below - Alex Long with (we don't know)  in Cairo.

Labels: Bishop, Books, Long Family