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Letter sent from Port Said by Cyril Verdcourt to Papa [Jean Joseph Verdcourt]. Written in pencil.

Tuesday 5 [August] 1919

From: 1919 To: 1919

Dear Papa, I thank you for your letter and will answer your questions before narrating my own recent experiences. The flags and buntings burnt well, I suppose. I am pleased that you have heard from Belgium, and I must write again to Uncle Charles. Tobacco is not desirable out here, but I take a great delight in the cigars which are easily obtainable. Marcellas are 1½ piastres each, ie about 3½d each, here. Certain brands of cigars which a friend who is a conizueur [connoisseur] (how do you spell that) pronounces to be quite good are very cheap at the canteens. An Egyptian cigarette gives me much greater pleasure than a Virginian and has the advantage of being much cheaper. This letter is to be a diary of my present travels and will be posted when we reach post if possible. To be expected the ‘escort duty’ which I vaguely mentioned in my letter to Louis has resolved itself into no less than a trip to South Russia, with a large number of Russian prisoners, recaptured from the Turks, and a call at Constantinople ‘en route’. Truly I am seeing the world and my only regrets regarding the trip is the disturbance it will cause to my mail and the fact that Caz was left behind. He was left in for the ‘hurdles’ and went to ‘Alec’ last Sunday. It was owing to a miscalculation on the part of the battalion that I was not sent for swimming. I was disappointed at the time but am pleased now as I might have missed this trip which will add to my knowledge of the Continent, bringing Turkey and Russia into the list of countries I have visited. We, that is a party of 30 from the Northants joined parties from other regiments at Tanta yesterday and left there for Benha, a junction to the south. From there, after several hours wait, we travelled north to Tel-el-Kebir [Tell El Kebir], the famous battlefield of the Egyptian War and picked up our Russians there. The night was passed at Tel-el-Kebir [Tell El Kebir] and to-day we passed on to Port Said. Benha is situated in the heart of a well watered fertile country flat as a pancake, luxuriant with think foliage of shrubs, and with prickly pear – although Pencil sketch, ‘Prickly Pear’ trees are scarce. Wherever a row of trees is seen there is a pool or waterway. ‘Villages’ of dilapidated mud huts amidst isolated palms are at frequent intervals along the route until the edge of the desert is reached at a short distance from Tel-el-Kebir [Tell El Kebir]. Then the rich soil ending at a belt of trees gives way suddenly to sand and pebbles and the flat ground to dunes and hillocks. Ismailia is the only place of importance in the desert and passing through that we reached the Suez once more. Along the banks of the Suez and through the Kantara [El Qantara] Base Depot and past the familiar tents and enclosures of No. 1 Ammunition Dump we travelled on to Port Said. Port Said is a much smaller place than Alexandria, and is essentially a commercial port. From what I have read it is a Town of dirt and strange sights and I should like to have had a glance around its streets but we were confined to the docks and stowed away aboard the ‘Danube’ as quickly as possible, which was not very quickly either. Upon our voyage out, I was unable to see the entrance to Port Said harbour, being asleep below, but I was amply compensated this time and enjoyed the sight of the half-European half Oriental buildings fading in the gathering dusk and distance. We steamed steadily parallel with a long stone breakwater, which stretches out two or three miles into the blue Mediterranean. About a mile out along this stone road-wall stands a giant statue of the Frenchman who projected the Suez-Canal and who so rumour has it, lost half his fortune in the venture, because of the lack of support he met with. Now, one of his huge stone hands indicates the entrance to his great work. Our trip has been beautiful, so calmly and steadily has the boat steamed on. Save an occasional ‘cushy’ guard there has been nothing to do. Yesterday we passed the coast of Asia-Minor, sandy, rocky and barren at a distance which caused much argument. Anything from three to twenty-five miles was guessed by ‘the troops’. The wonderful clearness of the sky, the intense blue of the sea, and the height of these rocky coats make it difficult to judge distances in these waters. This morning we are passing through the Dardanelles, where so many lives were uselessly thrown away, and it seems strange that some of our men’s very opponents at that time are wandering amicably on our decks and even attempting conversation as far as their limited knowledge of our tongue will permit them. The Russians, who clad in British uniforms looked so much like ‘Tommies’ that we were loudly cheered by British boats as we left Port Said, are very quiet and ‘English-looking’. Only their lack of education stamps a very heavy expression on many of their faces. Once or twice during the trip a score or two of them have given ‘concerts’. Taking their parts with most beautiful harmony and led by one of their number who seems a born conductor, hey have treated their comrades and us to selections of what appear to be Russian roundelays and folk-songs. I cannot imagine our boys ever singing music of that description. With us it is always ‘Swim Sam, swim Sam, swim Sam’ or ‘That Lil Old Home’ or something of that sort. We expect to reach Constantinople to day and I am hoping that we shall be allowed ashore, but in any event we shall see it, which is something more than I ever hoped for. We shall probably stay here for two days and then go on to Russia. Please give my love to all and accept some for yourself. From your Loving son Cyril We have reached Constantinople now, but I have no time to describe the trip but it was glorious. I will write again as soon as I can post my letters which will be when we reach Russia.

2 pages

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Verdcourt, Cyril,
Verdcourt, Jean Joseph

army, Egypt, Turkey