[2002] SID’S WAR

0080 - Sidney Lane War Diary 18

[this is an extract of the war diary, 'An Ordinary War', by my uncle (Sid Lane, my mother's brother) travelling to Qum in Persia] 

3/11/42 

Left Kermansha. Having had advance information of the impending move, I started to lay in a stock of rations for the trip. I was not very successful in this, and procured only a few biscuits, three pomegranates and two dozen eggs. The eggs I boiled the night before the move. Boiled eggs in large quantities have the unfortunate effect of causing me to have a great windy flatulence, which is very unpleasant even for myself, and I foresee that I am not going to be at all popular with the driver of my lorry. 

The lorry in which I am riding is loaded with odds and ends, including one motorcycle and 4 O.F.C.s We are in the main column. The guns of the Regt. (F Group) left at 3 a.m., but the main column did not move till 2 p.m. In the intervening time we cleaned up the camp area. Wogs appeared from everywhere to pick up old tins etc. One in particular had his head and shoulders down the latrines fishing up stuff - Horrible. Well we finally got under way and at a speed of 5 miles an hour crawled along the rough mountain road. It was soon dark and the greater part of the journey was at night. 50 miles was the distance covered and it was fairly uneventful. 

4/11/42 

Today we started much earlier (07.45 to be precise). The country we travelled through changed slightly and instead of having barren desert the valleys showed a little vegetation - A few trees, grass in patches where the natives had made efforts at irrigation. As the day progressed, we reached more and more grassland and herds of sheep were seen. The herdsmen's dwellings being tents suggested a nomadic existence. The high spot of the day, to my mind, was when we reached Tuisarhan. It was in a (for Persia) pretty valley, well wooded and with plenty of pasture; again the fruits of extensive irrigation. The main street was tree lined and the shops and bazaars looked very intriguing. The town itself was of a mud and adobe type, though more wood was used in the front of shops etc. I felt I wanted to stop and poke around. The people seemed pleasanter - they smiled and laughed and I'm sure the whole population was there to see us go through. As we left the village and started to climb the mountain pass, I looked back. The place seemed cut off from the rest of the world by the barren mountains and plains. It looked remote, contented and, with the twilight hiding the dirt and squalor that I knew to be there, clean and peaceful. It soothed my spirit which had become depressed and doubting as we had journeyed on through those bleak mountainous dreary wildernesses that had remained unchanged for thousands of years, and will remain so for thousands of years after I have passed into the unknown. 

It was dark when we reached the foot of the pass, and a terrifying ride the pass proved to be. For three more hours we carried on, finally reaching our night staging point pitching tents for the night. 

A good supper and hey ho - Goodnight. 

5/11/42 

We started today at 07.45 and the first 20 miles of the road proved to be tarmac. I could hardly believe it. The mountains gave way to broad plains, ploughed and irrigated. The ploughing was very primitive. Just two oxen pulling a long pole to which was attached a pointed stick that stuck in the ground and made a furrow. All the villages we passed were walled and from a distance looked like ancient forts. The roofs of houses instead of being flat now had domes and were more solidly constructed. Then the mountains closed in again, wilder than ever and when, in the evening, they did open out it was on wide salt deserts - No vegetation whatsoever. Darkness fell as we crossed these deserts or rather skirted the edge, and it was in darkness that we passed though Sultanabad. 

6/11/42 

There remained only 80 odd miles to do today over a mountain road following the railway. Long before we got there we could see the golden dome of the mosque at Qum, glowing red in the dying sun. Qum was our destination, the third holiest city in the Muslim world and it is here that we are to spend the winter.

On a scrap of paper salvaged from the bottom of my kit bag

- No date - 

Those terribly perishing guards when despite the sheepskins, heavy gloves and balaclavas you felt frozen to the back-bone and were thankful to see the sun come up in a gloriously red dawn from behind the mountains. After such a night only a neat vodka seemed to restore the circulation. 

There was something about those guards though. The tinkle of the camel bells growing nearer and nearer until out of the misty moonlight the ghostly caravan revealed itself, to go padding through the loose sand. Great beasts with greater swaying burdens, the gutteral mutterings of the drivers, and the whole scene softly fading again into the night. 

Where had they come from? What were they carrying? And where were they going? There was a kind of magic in it. I know I am writing this long afterwards, and that time lends enchantment, but I really did feel like that about it.

[back] [home]

hits