Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Henry Gordon Simpson letters, 1915-1916
MLMSS 9408/Folder 1/Item 1

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Headquarters, In the beastly desert, 7th June 1916
My dear Onion, Still in this wretched hole but we hope to be away soon – to probably some much cooler climate where the language will not apparently consist of yash nash ah wah ah wah wah and where the people do not all talk at once. This is really a most amazing place but I am getting very fed up with it we indulged in a real dust storm last Sunday. – You simply couldn’t see anything ten yards away from you and our clothes were the colour of red brick in no time. After yesterday all leave was stopped as we expect to be moved off at any moment. However I managed to get a pass for Cairo yesterday from 7 in the morning until ten in the evening and managing also to get the right side of the Field Cashier I got an advance of £ 2 on my pay. – I am several pounds in credit

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now not withstanding the giddy whirl of London but we are not allowed to collect more than £ 1 a fortnight in Egypt. and One simply can’t look at Cairo under 30/- even for a day. I ambled up to the weird city but was not particularly sorry to come back – everything very hot and very dull and expensive – quite different to what it was this time last year. I saw very few whom I knew – those whom I did see I didn’t want to know. Leaving here at 7 in the morning we get to Cairo at ten having witnessed a most extraordinary sight. 3 Arabs, a man and his woman was were on the train who and had evidently incurred the wrath of the Egyptian police. We were just moving out of Benha station when suddenly the police got hold of these 3 poor devils and gaily threw them and their bundles on to the platform. The last I saw of them was 3 figures lying prone on the ground mixed up with blankets, tins, bits of bread, bottles of stuff, old apricots, all bursting out of their bundles. I shall be very much

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surprised if none of them had any bones broken I intended going to the Museum but it was too hot so regaled myself with a hot bath and decent meal and some passable liquor at the St James’. not bad but they can’t grill a steak in Cairo – will over do it!! By finally explaining in my best French that I required a blood red steak I managed to get something akin to what I have been accustomed; though the chef rather took me at my word about the steak. There were a lot of men whom I knew at this camp but they are nearly all moved off now. Likewise all the canteens are gone, nothing but a few Arab kids running about offering to clean your boots. We shall all be glad to get away. Mary Reid is at the no 3 Australian Hospital at Abassia – a little way out of Cairo. I spoke to her on the phone but as she was on duty she was unable to come into town. She told me she had both peter Bright and Neil Campbell in her ward. The war has dealt very harshly with

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Neil – only 5 days on the Peninsula and severely wounded – now he comes back from Australia again and almost immediately is laid low with para typhoid. Mary tells me he is round the corner now but he has had a bad time. Strictly entre nous I am afraid his marriage is rather a tragedy. I suspected so all along and my suspicions received a large amount of confirmation in London. I’ve been quite busy in one way – there have been a whole crowd of fires round here lately – somehow or other the native shops will get on fire and strangely enough there seem to be a whole crowd of our men ready to make a raid as soon as the fire starts then immediately may be seen, soldiers running in all directions loaded with tins of milk, jam fish cigarettes, chocolates, any old thing the canteen contains. The next thing that happens is that for the Arab to make a claim upon the Military authorities for damages and he goes to the interpreter. I

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happen to know the interpreter. The Arab seldom gets more than 1/6th of his claim but he goes away quite satisfied and comes to me full of thanks and for him, money. So I don’t do badly sometimes. There is really nothing to write about. I don’t know what that juggins could have been thinking of when he talked about the flesh pots of Egypt. There are plenty of pots but mightily little flesh. Most of the natives have only one eye; those that have two get them crossed to make up for their loss. If the women whose faces are covered are anything like those whose faces are uncovered they really might save themselves the trouble; but perhaps they are ashamed of themselves. Taking them all in all they are an ugly unattractive lot, tho’ the very young boys are amusing – very quick at picking up any slang or swearing and can imitate an inflection of voice splendidly. Will you remember me to Mrs Minnett and the Honorable Mr James. I hope Jimmy is being persuaded to come out of his lair occasionally and that

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the family. I know they used to exhaust me. Harold Bruce and a man named Brocksopps (one of the Wills & Co Brocksopps) are in the same corps – that is how I came across Bagot. I am just off to draw some pay and will have a bit of a shivoo tonight so will say au revoir for the time being. Gordon

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The Dardanelles 27th 11 August – I think [1915?]
My dear Onion Your most interes welcome letter has just arrived. The only one I’ve had since leaving Australia. I wrote to mother from Fremantle, Aden and Cairo & again from here the other day. The Cairo one ought to be in Sydney by now, the others of course long ago. if the mater has written, her letters must have gone astray. Our Company has been 3 weeks here today – at the front or a small portion of it. We landed at dead of night very quietly, occasionally a rifle spitting out some distance off. Then we had a perfect hell of a march on a sandy track of hills & over rocks & bushes, with all equipment & tent on – very heavy until we got to our trenches where we halted for the night. We all fell down & went to sleep – then about 2 a.m. – up again at 5. We went to another trench. We had a scratch breakfast & tried to settle down for some rest in our dugouts – about 11 oclock the order came along for all the th company to be ready by 3 o’clock – ten of us were detailed off for fatigue work – we didn’t know of what nature – the rest await further orders –

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At 3 o’clock the fatigue ten of us went in charge of an N.C.O. through trenches to God knows where & get to our allotted spot. A little later the fun began, shells bursting everywhere, bits of shrapnel dropping in a most friendly fashion right alongside you, rifle bullets bumping up against protecting sandbags & then orders came for our for our party to bring up ammunition & bombs – anyway we all went, bullets falling about us, shells bursting, wounded men being carried to the field dressers, dead men laid on one side, smoke dust & earth thrown up every whery where & the noise deafening deafening. Some of us took cases of bullets, others bags of bombs. My 2nd trip was with a bag of bombs which had to be carted thro’ a pitch dark tunnel to the firing line, crowds of men going into action, many being carried out wounded. I made several trips like that between 6 in the evening & 4 the following morning. Once or twice it took over an hour to do 30 yds of tunnel. It seemed ages -

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for a first experience of battle, it was a pretty warm time – in fact I never thought to come out of that night alive – several of our company were wounded & 2 I think killed. This was known as the ‘night of the charge’, & the days following we were drafted into off into units different trenches in the firing line, & a few more of our crowd were killed & several wounded, but really it is rather difficult now to remember what happened each day, the first was the most fierce fighting; since then an intermittent bombardment has been going on, occasionally a man near you is killed or wounded. Personally I have only been stunned by about 20 sand bags hitting me with much precision & over the right eye to necessitating my going to the field dresser for a time. I turned out that it wasn’t the sand bags fault, for they in their turn had been in collision with the deadly 75 & had in fact saved me from being shelled to smithereens – that little incident & a bullet choosing a part of my cap for a target

[Transcribed by Colin Smith for the State Library of New South Wales]