World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, Turkish
I think, between us, we explored the whole town. Under Chukri Bey’s
benevolent _régime_ we had almost complete liberty, very much more than
a prisoner could expect. Save that we had to be accompanied by guards,
we were free to wander where we would, in the town and out of the town.
We used to go shopping in the covered bazaar, where whole streets were
shut up, their owners murdered. We used to explore the castle, and climb
its crags. We used to take walks down the valley among the irrigated
vegetable gardens. We used to walk among the hills. And through those
hills some of us intended one day to walk to the sea. Not now, but in
the spring.
The people were not at all hostile to us. I think they rather liked us.
We used to shop a great deal. Our power to buy was limited only by our
purse. But we used to shop for hours, like a pack of women in
Kensington, all shopping no buying. For we had practically no money, and
we had not only to buy blankets and clothes for the winter, but also to
set up house, buy crockery, cutlery, cooking pots. Four bob a day, even
when it still is four bob, is not much to set up house on. So we shopped
much but bought little. There was a large store in the main street, run
by Spanish Jews, and we used to swarm in there in a gang. A very funny
sight we must have been, dressed all sorts of ways, some of us with
shorts on, one young Australian, I remember, wore long pink drawers
under and below his shorts and a fur cap on his head. For we wore the
headgear of the country. We were advised to, to avoid exciting too much
attention; and some of us wanted to acquire a set of disguise.
Personally I had no other headgear of any kind, except a sort of
Glengarry made of pieces of puttee stitched together. My helmet had been
lost soon after I was captured. But the towns-folk did not seem to
think us strange. They were remarkably polite. Several officers out for
a walk one day met a man with a shot-gun, and asked to be allowed a
shot. He handed over the gun; they tossed for the shot; a naval officer
won, put up a woodcock and killed it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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