The Things We Do For Love

By Christina

Being the good mother that I am, I have taken a keen interest in one of Grayson’s greatest passions: war history. As you know from earlier blogs, we have made a point of visiting a number of battle sights and military museums in the countries through which we have traveled. My involvement dates back to before this trip, however, when I attended a Civil War reenactment and traveled to Lexington and Concord for the Revolutionary War reenactment with Grayson. So, it is not surprising that I agreed to accompany him out to El Alamein, sight of a decisive WWII battle, while Abby and Dan stayed back in Alexandria (“Alex” to those in the know) to enjoy the views of the Mediterranean. Our little excursion proved to be a bigger challenge than we expected.

First, there was the matter of transportation. We had met a gentleman in Alex when we got off the train from Cairo who told us he could drive us to El Alamein in his clean, comfortable automobile. Intrigued, we called him from our hotel about an hour later and made the arrangements. Concerned about time since it was now noon and the museum at El Alamein closed at 4, we asked him to hurry over. “No problem” he replied. A half hour later, we gave up waiting and chased down a local taxi driver. Using a horse-buggy driver (Mohammed) as an interpreter, we agreed on a price to have the taxi driver (also Mohammed) drive us to El Alamein (100 kms away), wait while we visited the museum, and then drive us back.

We probably should have checked out the vehicle before agreeing to the deal. Of course there were no seatbelts. Also, the back windows did not roll down, and one window was taped over in black tape. Mohammed smoked like a chimney, so the back of the taxi (where we were sitting) would fill with smoke, while he drove blissfully along the coast of northern Egypt. To top things off, the car could not drive faster than about 70 kph (this is an estimate, because when I tried to check the speedometer, I found that it was broken). With the clock ticking towards museum-closing time, we crawled our way through the desert to El Alamein.

El Alamein’s place in WWII history came about when the Allies, led by British General Bernard Montgomery soundly defeated Italian and German troops (the latter of which were led by none other than the “Desert Fox” General Erwin Rommel) in October, 1942. Rommel, in his eagerness to capture the area east of Alexandria, including the Suez Canal, launched an offensive from Libya. Monty’s Eighth Army, poised and ready in Alex, along with 1000 tanks, barreled across the desert in response to the attack. In two weeks of fierce fighting, the Allies pushed Rommel and his Afrika troops back into Libya. Eighty thousand soldiers were killed or wounded at El Alamein, but many feel the sacrifice changed the course of the war in favor of the Allies.

Our arrival at the museum nearly two hours after leaving Alex was greeted with great fanfare as we were the first and only visitors for the day. The guards (there were about eight of them, plus Mohammed, who wandered in after parking the taxi) woke up as we approached, stamped our tickets, turned on the lights and fans, and proceeded to follow us through the museum. It quickly became apparent why they were shadowing us – the museum was closing in 20 minutes! (45 minutes earlier than listed in our guidebook). So, I had just driven in a smoke-filled, dilapidated taxi for close to two hours to see this museum for a sum total of twenty minutes.

Well, we made the best of what was a pretty good museum. We especially liked the dioramas showing the troops in their desert fox holes shooting at each other. The grounds of the museum were also good, as there were a bunch of Italian, German, British and American army tanks and artillery equipment. My boy was in hog heaven!

Mohammed did not speak a lick of English, so I asked one of the museum fellas to tell him that we wanted to visit the Allied Cemetery down the road. No problem. We set off down the road, only to drive right past the cemetery. We gestured that Mohammed should turn around, which he did. This time we stopped in front of the cemetery, but when I started to get out, he gestured for me to wait until he parked. He then proceeded to drive away again! Once again, I indicated that he needed to turn around so that we could get out and walk the grounds. Eventually, he figured out what we wanted, parked the car, and we had a chance to stroll the grounds of the beautiful bougainvillea-strewn cemetery. (The plot of land is managed by the British government, which explains its immaculate, litter-free condition). We took some time reading the markers of troops from Scotland, Africa, Great Britain, Australia and New Zealand, and noted the groupings of many men according to their regiments. There were many graves marking unknown soldiers.

By this point, we were a bit hungry, having not eaten anything since our scanty bread-breakfast at our Cairo hotel hours earlier. So, we set off in search of food. This task also proved to be a challenge, as the area around El Alamein is desert wasteland (or, once again in a strange juxtaposition of cultures, half completed shopping malls and condominiums for rich folks from Cairo who want to enjoy some beach time). Eventually we located a hotel/restaurant that offered no fresh food, but lots of soda and packaged crackers. Guess what we bought? We also paid a visit to the WC only to find that the “hotel” part of the joint had been invaded by stray cats and there was cat waste everywhere. Yikes.

Happily ensconced in our smoky taxi munching dry crackers and sipping Sprite, we made our way back to Alex. Ah, but one more adventure awaited us: the requisite police checkpoint delay. The police had a real problem with Mohammed’s license/permit paperwork and we were stopped by the side of the road for quite some time. I managed to keep Grayson distracted by pulling out a Sudoku puzzle, but my brain was going through mental gymnastics trying to figure out how I would get the two of us back into Alex fifty kilometers in the distance. All of the minibuses passing by contained men only and in the entire half hour we sat by the road, I never saw another woman.

Eventually Mohammed’s paperwork was sorted out and we made it back to Alex. I joked with Grayson that some day he and I would tell his kids about the time we took off into the Egyptian desert in search of some history and instead found an adventure.