Past Trips...

One of the grubby papers was intent the other day to gather information regarding your past holidays.  Where did you go?  What was the best?  Those deeply intellectual questions being asked.  It surprised me as I could not think of having had a holiday for years.  Last year, while others visited Costa Rica, Portugal, Holland and Spain I had a day out in Great Bardfield churchyard.  I am not sure this counts as a holiday.
When did I last go on proper holidays?  Rare to have had the cash let alone somewhere worth visiting.  As children visits to aunts, as adolescents no money was available and few were rich enough for the early Spanish holidays.  A day out to Whitley Bay was forced on me at 15 by my dad.  Why there?  No idea.  I was intrigued I recall by policemen wearing those tall helmets, gone from Scotland in 1956.  Then later a trip or two to London with my mates, nothing intellectual occurring on these trips though a few hostelries were found.   
Once, only once, living in London, 1976 I reckon, I took a trip to Cardiff for reasons unremembered.  An overnight stay, nothing to recall but a friendly B&B in a backwater, and wondering why the rail tunnel was so long before remembering we went under the River!  

 
In November 1990, just before the first Gulf War, I went to Israel.  This of course was a great trip, even if the intifada and stupidity stopped me seeing all I wished to see.  A trip to Hebron? I enquired, NO! came the response, suicide!  Indeed the worst of the two sides abide there and bus trips do not go there these days.  I did see Jerusalem, mostly, finding much of what I wished to see, getting into the Holy Sepulchre with no difficulty, the American tourists stayed away from fear of Saddam, and sat in the most Holy place by myself, bar one nun.  

   
This shoddy picture shows Mount Tabor rising in the middle of a historical landscape.  I stand in Megiddo, corrupted into 'Armageddon' and before us lie the vast plain in which all the armies of the world will meet on the last days.  A huge plain lies before us.  To our right out of the picture is Mount Gilboa where Saul and Jonathan died, In the foothills near Tabor Barak defeated Sisera, and many a battle occurred where we stand.  In 1918 General Allenby's Cavalry swept across the plain of Megiddo more or less bring the end of the fighting in Palestine during the Great War.  
Sadly I saw no battles, though I can understand why people battle Israeli Border Police, they are a tough force.  Most Israelis were friendly enough, though many wished to sell something to tourists, and all Arab guides should be locked up!  

Not  much of a travelogue to be sure, nowadays I wish to see the Battlefields in France and little else.  The desire to tramp around in hot sun or freezing cold does not call me out.  There again both Brexit and the Virus has killed of foreign and indeed inland trips for us all.  
I can see that the use of digital cameras has improved photography greatly.  Most Israel pictures are on slides, so hidden away for now, the film ones are all pretty poor.  From now on all the pictures will concern Sainsburys and Tesco as far as I can see...

Research?

I have spent much of today in northern Israel fighting the 1918 Battle of Megiddo.  Now naturally I realise I must indicate to the less intelligent among the congregation that I was not actually participating in the fighting myself, I was merely reading about it.  I was trailing the advance of the 5th Essex Battalion after the battle of Jaffa and discovered the part they played in this major 'Mother of all Battles.'  Actually while here can I remind those mentioned previously that the 'Jaffa' in question being battled over is in fact NOT an orange, or indeed an orchard of that succulent citrus fruit, it was the town after which those fruits were named that I meant.   Also I suppose I must indicate that I failed to find much depth in what the 5th achieved in this advance as the reports tended to concentrate on the Cavalry taking major targets, the RAF bombing the communications centre and lesser regiments taking all the credit.  Tsk!  

This is a wee job I began some time ago and returning to it I discovered just how illiterate I am! What appeared to be acceptable at the time turns out to be meaningless drivel!  Now I realise what sub editors, or critics if you prefer, are for.  It didn't help that I had lost my place in all the books, mags and websites I had been using and have to spend hours attempting to find them all again.  Bah! 

For some the Great War was spent in France and Flanders, usually bored, often cold, damp and shot at.  For the 5th the war was spent in the delight of Gallipoli, Egypt and 120 degrees of heat in the Sinai as they approached Gaza.  After three attempts and a new commander they finally passed that historic town and ventured north to Jaffa, not for oranges remember.  I have yet to find out if any of the original 649 men and 29 officers made it to the end.  As they left Gallipoli only 6 officers and 100 men had survived that escapade.  As the war progressed the losses were made up with replacements from Britain, often no longer Essex men alone merely anyone who was available.  A quick calculation shows the 5th battalion lost a total of 332 men dead by wars end.  Around three others would be wounded, often more than once, and no count can ever be made of those who died from their exertions during the next forty years, often long before the next war came to be.  

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