With the Judaeans in the Palestine Campaign Part 20

About this time many military Race Meetings were organized in different parts of Palestine, Syria, and Egypt, and officers were encouraged to take part in them and get the men interested in the sport, so as to take their thoughts away from the absorbing topic of demobilization.

On the 5th June a Race Meeting was held at Surafend, a few miles from Bir Salem, and as we were all expected to support the programme, I entered my charger Betty for one of the events.

Betty was a beautiful dark-brown creature, but somewhat skittish and wayward, like many of her s.e.x. I knew her little ways and how to humour her to perfection, and she always gave me of her best. More than once she managed to slip her fastenings in the horse lines, and used her freedom to gallop off to my tent, where she would thrust her head through the doorway; then, apparently satisfied, she would fly back to her place in the lines.

She appeared at times to see something not visible to the human eye, because, now and again, when cantering quickly along, for no apparent reason she would suddenly bound aside as if the Devil himself had scared her out of her wits.

The 3rd Lah.o.r.e Division had at this time on its Staff an able and energetic sportsman, Major Pott, of the Indian Cavalry; this officer provided an excellent programme and ran the meeting without a hitch.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon, and thousands of people flocked to the course, soldiers from the camps round about, civilians from Jerusalem, Jaffa, and the surrounding colonies; the Arabs and Bedouins also sent a very strong contingent.

In the race for which I had entered Betty (I called her Betty in memory of another Betty, also beautiful and with a turn of speed!) a full score of horses went to the post, and I, unfortunately, drew the outside place. I therefore felt that unless I got well away at the start, and secured sufficient lead to enable me to cross to the inside, I would have but a poor chance of winning, for, about half-way down the course, there was a tremendous bend to negotiate. I was lucky enough to jump away in front, and, soon finding myself well ahead, swerved across to the inside, where I hugged the rails. For three parts of the way round Betty made the running, but soon after we came into the straight for home I eased her a bit and was pa.s.sed by Major Pott, who was riding a well-known mare, also, strange to say, called Betty. At the distance the Major was quite a length ahead of me, but I felt that there was still plenty of go in my Betty, so I called upon the game little mare to show her mettle. Gradually she forged herself forward until there was but a head between them, and for the last dozen strides the two Bettys raced forward dead level amid the frantic roars of the crowd, all shouting, "Go on, Betty! Go on, Betty!" We both rode for all we were worth, my Betty straining every nerve to defeat her namesake, and finally, amid terrific cheering, by the shortest of heads, Betty won--but, alas, it was the other Betty!

[Ill.u.s.tration: RUINS AT BAALBEK (_See page_ 212)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MY CHARGER BETTY (_See page_ 209)]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

DAMASCUS.

Towards the end of June I took part in the military races at Alexandria, and from the "home town" of Hypatia I took ship and went to Beyrout--a lovely seaport, nestling under the mighty and magnificent Lebanon. Here I was most hospitably entertained by my friends, the Bustroses. From the balcony of her palatial residence Madame Bustros enjoys a view second to none in the world, and every imaginable fruit and flower grows and blooms on her estate. Beyrout is undoubtedly a place of milk and honey, and is unquestionably within the Biblical boundaries of the Promised Land. Ezekiel xlvii., 17, states: "and the border from the sea shall be Hazar-enan, the border of Damascus and the north northward and the border of Hamath." This was the northern boundary a.s.signed to Israel and was actually occupied in the days of David and Solomon.

My journey across the Lebanon was one long feast of the most beautiful scenery in the world. As we topped the range my last peep of mountain and valley, stretching away down to Beyrout, hemmed in by the glittering sea, was like a vision of Paradise.

Instead of going to Damascus direct, I branched off at Ryak and ran up the Bakaa, the valley which stretches between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon to Baalbek, where I spent a wonderful time amid the mighty ruins of that ancient temple to Baal.

Baalbek is the most beautiful and impressive ruin that it has ever been my good fortune to look upon. Thebes may exceed it in size, but the wonder of Egypt had not the effect upon me that was produced when I stood under the magnificent columns of this great temple to the heathen G.o.d.

I wandered through the vast pile, an insignificant speck amidst its gigantic pillars and fallen lintels, overthrown and shattered by the devastating earthquake which centuries ago wrecked this mighty structure. Who were the architects who designed it? and who were the engineers who set on high those stupendous blocks? Verily there were giants in those days.

At Baalbek railway station I came across one of the prettiest girls I had seen for many a long day engaged in selling peaches. She was a Syrian from Lebanon, which is noted for the beauty of its maidens; I overheard her companions address this Houri of the mountains as "Edeen."

While I was standing waiting for my train to arrive a dust storm suddenly sprang up, and when it was over Edeen sat down and calmly _licked_ the dust off every peach until they all bloomed again in her basket; then presently she presented the fruit, fresh and shining, to the incoming pa.s.sengers, who eagerly bought it from the smiling damsel!

I need hardly say that peaches were "off" for me during the rest of my trip, for not all sellers were as beautiful as Edeen!

A few hours in the train took me over the Anti-Lebanon, and I caught my first glimpse of Damascus, that most ancient of cities, which I had long desired to see.

When Mohammed was a camel driver, making a caravan journey from Medina to Aleppo, the story goes that he once camped on a hill overlooking Damascus. His companions asked him to join them and go into the city but he replied--"No; Paradise should only be entered after death!"

I viewed the city from the same spot, but, not being so sure of my hereafter as was the Prophet, I decided to take my chance of entering this earthly Paradise while it offered.

It is rightly described as a pearl set in emeralds. White mosques, minarets, and cupolas peep dazzlingly in all directions out of the emerald foliage. Trees, gardens, and flowers of all kinds abound in this delectable city, whose charm is enhanced by the murmur of the many rivers running through it. I, too, like Naaman the Syrian, found "Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel."

The latter is in the district, and runs some ten miles to the south of the oldest city in the world. The great Saladin is buried in Damascus, and of course I made a pilgrimage to the tomb of this famous warrior.

I like to avoid the caravanserais set up for Europeans as much as possible when travelling in the East, so that I may see something of the life of the people. In this way one has many pleasant little adventures, experiences and remembrances, which give zest to life.

While lunching at a famous Arab restaurant I made the acquaintance of Dr. Yuseff, a well-known medical man of Damascus and Beyrout; among other subjects we talked horses and races, and we became such good friends that he lent me his fiery, pure-bred Arab steed to ride while sight-seeing in the neighbourhood--a sure token of friendship from this cultured Arab of Syria.

Just on the outskirts of the city on the banks of the river Barada (the Biblical Abana) I had noticed a Bedouin camp crowded with good-looking horses, so thither I went and called on the Sheik of the tribe. While sitting with the elders in a huge circle, sipping coffee out of tiny cups, I discovered from their conversation that my hosts were wandering Kurds, who were just about to set off for the confines of Persia. I hinted that I would like to join their caravan, and was immediately given a warm welcome, but, much as I should have liked to roam the desert with them, I had to think of my Jewish Battalion waiting for me at Bir Salem. The Kurds expressed much interest when I told them I had to go on a pilgrimage to El Kuds (meaning Jerusalem), for of course they were good Moslems and reverenced the Holy City.

On leaving Damascus I travelled down the Hedjaz Railway as far as Deraa.

The moment the ancient Syrian capital is left the train enters the desert, the home of the Ishmaelite. These bold rovers, from time immemorial, have hunted and harried the peaceful traveller caught toiling through their fastnesses. We were not molested for the simple reason that troops of cavalry, British and Indian, were posted at strategic points all along the railway. A few months later, when we withdrew from these parts, the Bedouins began their old games, and took a fierce joy in derailing trains, and robbing, and even killing, the pa.s.sengers. In this way a good friend of mine, Comandante Bianchini, an officer of the Royal Italian Navy, met his untimely end at the hands of these desert marauders. Bianchini was deeply interested in, and worked hard for, the Zionist cause, and his loss is a sad blow to his many friends. A more cheery, lovable man never sailed the seas.

We reached Deraa (the ancient Edrei) without incident, and then branched off westward to Haifa, the train clambering down and around the precipitous sides of the Yarmuk Escarpment, past the southern sh.o.r.e of the Lake of Galilee at Samakh, across the Jordan and running parallel to it for some miles, then curving upwards out of the Jordan Valley, into the valley of Jezreel, which continues into the plain of Esdraelon.

These narrow plains, the heritage of Issachar, sever the head of Palestine from the body, or, in other words, separate Galilee from Samaria and Judaea. To use an Irishism, this neck had been the "Achilles'

heel" of Israel throughout her history. All down the ages armies from Babylonia, a.s.syria, Persia, and Egypt have marched and counter-marched through this fertile belt. Open pa.s.ses southward made Samaria an easy prey. Beisan (the ancient Bethshan), which guards the eastern end and dominates the pa.s.sage over the Jordan, was generally in the hands of the stranger. It was in the neighbourhood of this famous old stronghold that Barak defeated Sisera, captain of the host of Jaban, king of the Canaanites--a victory celebrated in the famous song of Deborah. It was also in this neighbourhood that Gideon smote the Midianites. His motto, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," was also the motto of the Zionists who served England so stoutly in Gallipoli, and it was a curious coincidence that, just as the Midianites were routed by the shouting and clamour of Gideon's three companies, so was the Turkish Army routed by the Zion mules when, with rattling chains and clattering hoofs, they stampeded one dark night and galloped through the Turks as they were creeping stealthily up to attack the British trenches.

Later on in the military history of the Israelites we find the Philistines battling for the supremacy on these plains and overthrowing the army of Israel under their first King Saul, who, in the bitterness of defeat, and finding he could not escape, fell on his sword and died on Mount Gilboa. In the same battle and the same place the death of Jonathan put an end to his immortal friendship with David and called forth the famous lament: "The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places; how are the mighty fallen."

These stories of the Old Testament flashed vividly through my mind as we rolled onward through this historic valley between Mount Gilboa and Beisan on the left, and the cone-shaped Mount Tabor away on the right.

Other countries and other scenes were recalled to my mind when I spied half a dozen beautiful antelope near some standing corn, and my thoughts of Africa were further intensified when I caught a glimpse, on the railway bank, of a huge black snake, some six feet long, rapidly darting away out of danger.

Soon afterwards, on looking to the north, I saw Nazareth perched upon a southern Galilean hill-top. We wound in and out by the brook Kishon, where Elijah smote the false prophets. Finally we pa.s.sed along the mighty shoulder of Mount Carmel into that great natural anchorage of Haifa, nestling under its shadow; then southward to Ludd and Bir Salem--the whole train journey from Damascus taking some fifteen hours and giving me an unrivalled feast of Biblical landscapes.

Early in July I visited Acre to take part in the races there (which proved a fiasco owing to the antics of the starter), and suddenly found myself close to the dwelling of the famous Abdul Baha, the exponent of the doctrine of the Brotherhood of Man. He certainly has a wide field before him, for at the present moment there seems to be very little brotherly love in any part of the world! His particular mission is to unite the peoples of the earth, and do away with all barriers of race, creed, and prejudice.

Since Patriarchs, Popes, Archbishops, Mullahs, and ministers of all creeds have failed to make humanity realise the necessity of "brotherly love," the League of Nations would be well advised to adopt the Sage of Acre and make him President of a "League of Teachers," pledged to inculcate love for one's fellowmen as the cardinal feature of his curriculum. One thing is certain--the League of Nations will never bring the world into harmony unless the young are taught to love and help their brothers, irrespective of nationality.

It will be remembered that Acre was the town to which Napoleon laid siege after his wonderful march from Egypt with about 10,000 French Infantry. This extraordinary man was able to cross the Sinai desert with his army, without either roads, railway, or water supply, capture Gaza, Jaffa, and Haifa with ease, and only for the British Fleet would undoubtedly have added Acre, and probably all Syria, to his spoils.

Those who have traversed the Sinai sands in a comfortable railway coach can afford to pay a warm tribute to this redoubtable warrior, and to the no less redoubtable Infantry of France.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AMONG THE PHILISTINES.

When General Hoskin left Bir Salem to take up a command in England he was replaced by Major-General Sir John Shea, under whom we had served for a short time in the line. If this officer had not been called elsewhere, I am quite sure that the regrettable incidents which I shall have to relate would never have taken place; but, unfortunately, General Shea was away practically all the time we were attached to his Division, and a senior Brigadier acted in his place.

This Brigadier was apparently well aware of the anti-Jewish att.i.tude taken up by certain members of the G.H.Q. Staff, and trimmed his sails accordingly, but unfortunately for himself, as the sequel will show, his zeal to second their ill-advised efforts carried him to such lengths that even those influential members whose policy he was supporting were unable to save him from the consequences of his own outrageous folly.

No sooner had we come under his command than his anti-Semitic bias became apparent. Certain areas were placed out of bounds to "Jewish soldiers" but not to men in other battalions. Jewish soldiers were so molested by the Military Police that the only way they could enjoy a peaceful walk outside camp limits was by removing their Fusilier badges and subst.i.tuting others which they kept conveniently in their pockets for the purpose. They found that by adopting this method they were never interfered with by the Military Police.

Traditional British fair play seemed to have taken wings as soon as General Z. appeared on the scene. I repeatedly made official complaints about the way the men were persecuted, but nothing was done to mend matters. As a British officer I felt ashamed to hold my head up in my own camp owing to the unfair and un-English treatment to which the men were subjected.

It may well be imagined that this att.i.tude of the Staff made my command anything but an easy one. In the first place, knowing how all ranks were discriminated against, no officer or man wished to remain in the battalion. It was exceedingly difficult under the circ.u.mstances to get the best out of the men. While we were with the Anzacs, although we suffered exceedingly from the deadly climate in the desolate Jordan Valley, yet we were all thoroughly happy, because we were treated with justice and sympathy by the Staff and by all other ranks in that famous division. At Bir Salem, on the contrary, we were anything but a happy unit.

It will be remembered that before we left Rafa the battalion had been swamped by about 800 recruits. Physically they were a very fine lot, but, being young and hailing from the United States, they were a bit wild and difficult to handle. The moment they joined the battalion they had to do real hard soldiering, and were put on outposts and detachments up and down the country, guarding thousands of prisoners of war, long stretches of railway line, millions of pounds worth of munitions, food, ordnance supplies, etc. In fact, so arduous were these duties that the men had scarcely more than every alternate night in bed, although it is the rule in the army that whenever possible every man should be allowed at least three consecutive nights' rest.

The great majority of my old trained men of the 38th had by this time either been demobilised, invalided to England, or employed on special duties between Cairo and Aleppo, so that a great part of the heavy duties which had to be carried out fell on the American recruits. There was absolutely no time to train these men, and I consider it was really wonderful that they did so well under the circ.u.mstances.

I know of no more heart-breaking task for a Commanding Officer than to endeavour to keep a battalion in a high state of discipline when he is surrounded by a hostile staff, apparently all out to irritate and humiliate both officers and men. From "reveille" to "lights out" it was a case of countering the actions of those in authority which constantly tended to create discontent and ill-feeling in our ranks.