MORE AFRICAN MEMORIES
Since we last wrote of the Arabian gentry - or Wogs as they have been affectionately dubbed - we have been further informed as to how they got the peculiar name of Wog. Our informant who has holidayed in Palestine at His Majesty's Pleasure, says that the name came from the last war "title" of "Western Oriental Gentleman" - however, if any fair reader has any other ideas about this subject please write and tell us all about it. Now for my tale.(As author of this article, written over a half-century ago, I wish to apologise for having employed a term which, today, may be considered as being derogatory - Ed)
During last winter when we sojourned near the Algerian village that gives its name to our Crew, it so happened that the writer was confined to bed with a spot of jaundice. When one had been lying on one's back for a week or so that "browned-off" feeling is inevitable, so, when I heard an Arab calling from the nearby road that he had a "chick-chuck" for sale, I flipped up the back of my bivvy to have a "look see". (I would explain here that on this particular day most of the chaps were out doing a spot of cross-country work, in consequence of which the camp was well nigh deserted.)
As I looked out I espied a Bedford 3-tonner, Bône bound, pull up beside the Wog and his chicken and the driver started to haggle with the Arab. Unfortunately the distance was too great for me to hear what was going on but after a perhaps ten minutes of fierce gesticulation the Bedford driver reached out a note. More gesticulation, until suddenly the Wog darted away in the Philipeville (today called Skikda - Ed) direction, chicken in one hand, note in the other. He would have quite probably got away with it, being nippy on his feet, but for a big American Air Force truck (also Bône bound) which pulled up by the fleeing Arab. Out bounded a burly Yank and, asking no questions, grabbed hold of the Wog and hurled him bodily in to a nice muddy ditch - chicken and all! By this time our boy had come up and he retrieved his note, together with the loudly sqawking "chick-chuck", before inviting the Yank and his pal along to the Bedford out of which he produced three bottles of Canadian ale. The last I saw of the episode was the amber liquid gurgling down a trio of throats. My comment? The American must have been a Scout doing his good turn for the day!
(Later, I found out that I hadn't recognised the Arab to be the one with whom I bartered for eggs. To preserve goodwill he was paid for the "chick-chuck" and, surprisingly enough, he was not at all upset by the dunking that was afforded to him. - Ed)