Photostat copy of letters from Percy Wellesley Chapman to his mother, 5 April 1915 to 1 February 1917 - Part 2

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[[?]] paper. Sometimes the fellows get these

niggerettes to yell out headings. We have a

chap in our tent called Roxburgh. Ruby will

know him, he is a B.A. and I suppose very clever

but does not appear so, in fact he seems rather

excentric, well he had a buster the other day

off a horse called Paddy, and the paper boys

were yelling out "Paper, Roxy fell off Paddy paper"

Well Mamman, I really believe there is no

more news. The keen inspirations which seize

us upon entering into new scenes are being

worn away and Egypt the desert and niggers

all becoming commonplace. The days and

nights are getting cooler but Spreer always

riegns supreme here, occasionally a cloud

appears in the sky, but Murcury apparently has

orders to posture the sungods cares in more

congenial climes, as their presence here is very

fleeting and their fruitful milk is never showered

upon the desert sands. Give my love to all and

tell Father to enter my money in the savings bank

so that he can draw it without any trouble

should anything happen to me. Ever love

from your loving son Bob.

 

 

Egypt

21^st May 1916

My dear Mamman,

I have just received

a letter from you in which you say

you have only received one letter from

me since Xmas. Well I have written

a great deal more than that, but they

would not be very descriptive letters.

You see Mamman I have a Commission

now and am responsible for what

I mention. In all probability I could

say a good deal more than I do

most of the officers do I expect. But I

am not going to. From any of the 

mens letters I have to scratch out

where we are, what were all doing or

the movement of any troops. When I

was in the ranks I was not responsible 

and could say just what I liked if

the censor did not bother to read it

and let it go through well and good.

But now whenever I sit down to write

I feel like trying to crawl through barb
[*P.S. I am sorry about your little [[?]], is 
Charlie still [[with?]] the Bakers or has he
returned home. Bob*] 

wire entanglements, each way I turn I seem to be

striking against something which holds me

back.  The only thing I can turn to is my

diary and even in that I don't say very much.

Censorship is a nuisance, it puts a damper on all

my letters. And don't imagine I ever tell

anyone else anymore than I tell you because

I don't. Nina is the only other person I write

to and I never tell her where I am or what I 

am doing. I don't know if she understands

why I can't say more than I do. Egypt is

a pretty hot place in the Summer, - heat

waves occur sometimes, the other day I came

into my tent to find only the wick of the 

candle left, but the heat has not affected

me so far. I believe in about a week we leave

& catch up with Jock but am not sure

Well the desert is a monotonous place to live

in, there is not a town within miles of us,

nothing but sand and flies. This is a miserable

letter Mamman I would write more if I could

& I don't know how this will be posted.

My love to all, your loving son

Bob
 

 

H.M.T. Caledonia

Mediterranean somewhere

between Crete & Malta

24^th June, 1916

My dear Mammon,

I am sitting in the

music room of 
the H.M.T. Caledonia, one

of the officers is 
strumming on the piano

romping perhaps
I should say the way

Father does when
 he starts on [[feika?]] wild

rose. The throb of the
 engine is faintly thudding

in my ears as there is a calm sea. I

am partially tranquil 
only partially though.

Well Mamman my 
letters have been very short

and sweet or sour shall I say of late but

now as regards Egypt I am free to say what I

like. feel think of it, I expand my chest

only to feel the cork of my life belt sticking

in my ribs, I inhale the glorious [[?]] flowing

in my face from all the ocean while I watch

a perky little destroyer that continually

shoots across our bows as if to show

fo display is superior speed, but in reality

searching for mines and
 submarines did I say

 

2

I felt free, well I'm nearly free but for this

lifebelt that must always be worn and the

fact that all lights must be out at night

and fo that business like perky little

destroyer I would be free. But let me talk

of Egypt, not that I am fond of that

place but that you may no longer say,

"why has Bob forgotten us." 
Why does he no longer

write, it was ever so with him out of sight

out of mind"  When I came back from the

peninsular you remember I was transferred

into the x^th Battalion well after about three

weeks the x^th was split up into two battalions

half remaining as the x^th the remainder

forming the 55^th.  The Gods willed it that

I should be one of the latter so I bowed

my head. For about three months we

trained at Tel-el-Kebir and I needed that

training, I know nothing but infantry work

nor how to manage a platoon but gradually

after many mistakes and a good deal of

[[?]] I learned the rudiments of forming

fours. Tel-el-Kebir is situated on the

sweet water canal which runs from the

Nile near Cairo to 
Ishmailia in the Suez Canal
 

x 3.

A sharp defined lines separates the cultivated

area from the desert which stretches
away. a great gravelly desolate waste, here

and there a desert thorn bush would

stretch out its arms & [[?]] to [[?]]

that life could exist even there.  Tel-el-Kebir

you know was the scene of the battle fought

between the English under Sir Garnet Wolsley,

and Aribi Pasha in 1882.  A little cemetry

lives witness where a few graceful palms

gently wave their branches all the groans of

the dead lulling them to eternal rest while

tall straight yew trees stand as sentinels.

Here will be a crude wooden cross with its

epitaph "To one unknown" printed in white

upon it, There a large marble slab with the

names of about a dozen men engraven upon

its surface. Behind this small cemetry lies

the town of Tel-el-Kiber, built in Egyptian

fashion of mud [[?]], the roofs being flat

and used for the storage of maize stalks

dried camel dung fuel or any other thing

that may appear useful for the ovens, the

front yard is often on top of the house, and xx in 

4

one corner a dove cote is usually situated

where pigeons coo and make love to one

another. Donkeys share the rooms with the

occupants below and quite belong to the

family. No attempt seems to be made as

to sanitary arrangements, all space

outside the front door seems to be regarded

as the back yard and the ordinary Egyptian

is by no means modest. The streets are

narrow and dirty, here a train of camels

will be seen carrying their burden through

of green maize stalks or merchandise,

moving neither to the right or left for

any traffic they may encounter, there another

train will be xxxxxxx loading or deposit

their loads, volubly expressing 
their experiences

in a babbling [[?l ]] while doing so. Small

shops, recesses in the mud wall, display

their goods of weird [[wears]] [[crash?ing]] [[jars?]]

flat round [[matted bread cc ovens]] with a

hole in the centre [[?]] the [[?]] threaded

to a string, Water carriers [[d?ed]] in [[flight?]] and

and yelling will cry Maya Maya as they

pass by, while donkeys and children will be

the [[chief?]] occupants of the centre of the [[?]]

 

5

Passing through the town we come to the 

cultivated area a fertile strip of about two

miles width which follows the canal. Some

of the land is marshy, made so for first the cultivation

of rush and other things used by the Egyptians

for weaving mats. Women will be seen in the

fields helping with the crops, while in the

adjoining field a pair of oxen will will labours

slowly along drawing a wooden plough similar

to those used in Abrahams time. It was through

this marshy strip that xxxxx Arabi Pasha

intended returning to avoid his british

pursuers but they come so quickly.

After our training was practically complete

at Tel-el-Kebir, the brigade set off on a

[[?t]] march to Ishmailia a distance of

about 37 miles to complete our training in

the advanced trenches the other side of

the Canal. We marched over the same ground

as that covered by Arabi Pasha and the

British.  Perhaps you would be interested in 

the battle itself so I will describe it

The pursuit started from Ishmailia. When

Wolseley arrived there at that place 
he found the Eqyptian

army had 29 hours start of him and was

 

6
had set off in a 
westerly direction following

the sweet water canal, 
so he immediately 

set off on a [[?]] march across the

desert in pursuit. I can't describe the

actual march itself suffice it to say that

the casualties on the march were greater

than those in the actual battle. Heat thirst

and heavy packs are bad enemies. The

English troops advanced in two divisions

Hand drawn map - see original document
once during the night the

heads of the columns circled

in towards each other and

it was only by the influence

of great discipline that

they were prevented from

firing upon each other.
One division of the British

troops broke through the

centre of Arabi's lines, the

second turned his left

flank and in a very short

time all was over.
 Arabi took the first train

to Cairo, the remainder of 
his army fled as

far as [[Khos??]] 
where 
the pursuing cavalry

obtained 
their surrender.  
Heliopolis where I was

 

 

7

formally was not far 
from Abbassia. In

one of your letters 
you asked me if I was in

that march from
Tel-el-Kiber to Ishmailia

so I suppose you have 
already heard about it.

Water ran out on the
 second day so things

were a little disagreeable
but nothing to

speak of. We camped at 
Moascar, a siding

about two miles outside 
shmailia, after the

march and the following day
 passed through

Ishmailia to Ferry Post, 
Ishmailia is a 

pretty little place most of 
the Canal officials

live there, and the European
section is mostly

a garden, on either
 side of the road, are

avenues of flame 
trees, in the spring 
the bright

red mass of flowers
 and vivid green look

very beautiful, Tall 
trees raise their heads

trying to disguise 
the fact that his majesty

the sun holds perpetual 
sway, in the 

open spaces palm trees
 wave their graceful

fronds while twining 
round their trunks

are boganvilleas
 crowned at the top in a

great mass of scarlet, 
scattered about all

present Egyptian 
monuments and rose gardens

but the roses have no scent, 
the French clay

is the main rendering 
here and it is how