Patrol by Fred Majdalany

Author:Fred Majdalany
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: HISTORY / Military / World War II
Publisher: Imperial War Museum
Published: 2020-04-23T00:00:00+00:00

Sheldon spent most of the morning studying the shops. He wanted to buy something for Sister Murgatroyd but he had no idea what. He hoped that by looking in shop windows he might come upon something better than the conventional trinkets, cosmetics, and well-meaning monstrosities with which vagrant soldiery usually loaded up its unfortunate womenfolk. The odd thing was that he found it impossible to connect her with civilian clothes. He saw a great many dresses, hats, shoes, nightdresses, underclothes, but he could never imagine Sister Murgatroyd in any of them. He couldn’t for the life of him picture her as anything but a nurse; couldn’t make even a guess at what she might wear when not in uniform. Her uniform and herself seemed an integral part of one another.

So, deciding to postpone the matter until he had given it further thought, he made for the Officers’ Club, an establishment he was already beginning to find depressing – but which was rendered irresistible by the duty-free prices of drinks and cigarettes. After lunching there he spent the afternoon in a cinema.

There was a café quite close to the cinema, and about half-past five Sheldon sat down in the warm sunshine and ordered himself an anisette. For some time he was the only customer, and he was nearing the end of his second drink when a French lieutenant sat down a couple of tables away.

‘Good evening,’ Sheldon said. ‘Would you care to join me.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What will you have?’

‘Thank you, an anisette.’

It was some time later that Sheldon happened to mention that he had been the previous evening to Chez Suzy.

The Frenchman, whose name was Brassart, laughed.

‘This is a terrible place,’ he said. ‘You must forgive me – it is what we call pour les Anglais et les Américains.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Sheldon said.

‘It is a joke, this Chez Suzy.’

Now if Sheldon was interested in that sort of thing, Lieutenant Brassart went on to say, he would only be too happy to take him somewhere that was really good. Had he heard of the dancers of the Oulad Naïl? No? It would be Brassart’s great pleasure to show them to him. But first they must eat. One could not make love on an empty stomach: he knew a place…

The restaurant, which was in a basement, would have been impossible to find without a guide. After they had gentled their way through a meal consisting of soup, omelette, kidneys served in flaming brandy, cheese, and fruit – along with a bottle of Volnay – Brassart apologised because there hadn’t been a meat course. Meat was at present impossible to get, he said. Sheldon said it was the best meal he had had during the war, and meant it. Brassart insisted that it wasn’t bad for what it was: these people had to make the best of what they got, mostly scraps.

Over the brandy Sheldon learned a little more of the Oulad Naïl. They came, it seemed, from a special Berber tribe who lived in the mountain range of that name, which you had to cross to reach the northern fringes of the Sahara.

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