大象传媒

Early in 1943 I wrote the following letter to my wife Minna:

Dearest Minna,

I want to share an experience with you - a lovely experience. I had been on a duty-trip to pay some scattered units out to the westward. Lieutenant Birkett, our driver Rabirotti and I set out at 8.30 a.m. and drove along the coastal road. The weather was brilliant, the road twisting and turning, commanding splendid views of the sea. Secluded coves, reminiscent of Cornwall and shelving beaches of fine yellow sand. Sometimes the road ran as straight as a ruler for miles through an avenue of trees. We drove past villages where the bougainvilliae hung in huge clusters and the gardens were filled with blowsy roses - very different from our trim English Madam Butterflys or Standards. Then past acre upon acre of tomato-plants, each field carefully shielded from the wind by high wicker fences. Marrows too were plentiful and in many fields the first harvest was already gathered (wheat, maize etc.) and the fields already furrowed again for the next crop. We left the main road and turned right . In a few moments we were in a pine-wood with soft shady roads, the very image of those woods between Aldershot and Farnham. Swallows were everywhere and with them the gay finches and martins filling the trees with their merry racket. We finished our job here and rejoined the main road , still proceeding west. We took lunch at a commercial hotel close by the water's edge and spent a pleasant hour stretched out on the beach in the sun.

From this spot onwards the country seems littered with the remains of the Roman occupation. I saw an aqueduct straddling a valley, remarkably well-preserved, very high - a splendid sight amid the hills. We continued and on either side were piles of mason-hewed stones, some obviously forming the ground-plan of buildings while others had been seized by the natives to build walls for their fields. The arches of another aqueduct arch - very ruined - had been converted into an Arab dwelling. Now we reached Cherchell, a fairly large town about a hundred kilometres from our starting point (Note: at this time my 'whereabouts' were supposed to be secret!) Outside the town were the remains of an entire settlement while on the main square are grouped Corinthian columns, pedestals and capitals in profusion. I had read of a museum of antiquities here and made for it.

My disappointment was keen when I found it closed and, on peering through the windows, saw that many of the exhibits were sandbagged up. I went to the rear and found the concierge who, for a consideration, let me in to see what remained. The museum had been closed since 1939 and the best pieces removed to safety. What remained was interesting - some mosaics of the Christian period, a few good statues, some graffiti and tomb inscriptions.

Had this been all I would have been well satisfied but the best was yet to come. After we had gone some twenty kilometres I saw a signpost on the right: 'Tombeau de la Chretienne - 2 ks.' This aroused a memory and I mentioned it to Birkett who said he seemed to remember it himself. We followed the road which degenerated into a cart-track, spiralling upwards into the hills. I shall never forget one vista - on either side stretched the hills, rocky and scanty of vegetation. Far below, the rich plains were a carpet of green. Beyond all lay the sea, glittering in the sunlight, while away to the west, a mountain seemed to rise out of the ocean, but so far distant that it was a mere blue outline. As we climbed higher we could see far inland, where the great range of the Atlas stood against the sky.

And thus we came to the 'Tombeau de la Chretienne' and I recognised it. You will find a picture in my 'Wonders of the Past' and an article which should prove interesting reading. The 'Tombeau' was actually built for one of Rome's client-kings. It is like a huge beehive, perched on the crest of a hill. It is about forty feet high and around the base is carved a 'dummy' colonnade and two 'dummy' doors. The custodian, an ancient Arab with long white moustaches, approached and asked if we would care to see the interior. We agreed and he hobbled away, returning with a small spirit lamp which burned with a fearful spluttering. The real entrance is below the dummy and is about four feet high. A passage which is no higher goes inward for about twelve feet and then one can straighten up in a little chamber. This passage is deeply grooved in two places where it was originally sealed with a sliding stone. Inside the chamber our guide's little lamp revealed that one end had been battered down by early treasure-seekers who, as was just, found nothing.

On the right-hand side two lions are carved in bas-relief upon the wall and just below them lies another four-foot aperture. Having negotiated this we found ourselves confronted by a row of wide steps and ample head-room. At the top of the steps commenced a long passage, about ten feet high, the stones all regular and well-fitting. It ran in a continuous bend around the building with its bias towards the centre. After about 200 yards it ended abruptly. This was obviously intended to deceive possible robbers. There were no sliding stones here, but they had bored through into another four-foot high passage which gave access to a dim chamber about twelve feet long and fifteen high. Around the walls were niches where oil-lamps could be placed and in the flickering light of the guide's lamp, age-old soot-stains could be seen.

This, apparently, was the end of our exploration and this is exactly what robbers were supposed to think. But on the far wall there was another pierced stone, another short passage and another, final, chamber - an exact replica of the first. Both rooms were bare. If there ever were anything there it had been stolen centuries ago. The air smelt musty and ancient and the ensemble gave me a pretty good idea of what to expect when I explore the Great Pyramid one fine day. As we retraced our steps to the long corridor the guide accidentally dropped his lamp and we were left in a darkness which could be touched. Luckily I had some matches and we relit our beacon. I shouldn't care to be left there alone. We emerged into daylight and took a final look at the splendid panorama of mountain, sky and sea and made for 'home' It had been a wonderful day, a day which made me realise once again that my correct metier is archeology. I attach a ten-minute essay in draughtsmanship to give you an idea of the lay-out. If it is missing when you receive this letter you will know that the censor has discovered it to be a cleverly-concealed plan of an aerodrome.

(Note: the plan WAS missing when my wife received this letter!)

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.