Book: With Our Army in Palestine

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No doubt these things will strike you as trivial. Quite so. But when you
remember our complete isolation, that for six months we saw no one but
ourselves, so to speak, you will understand that if one did not laugh at
trivial things one simply did not laugh at all--and in the desert that way
madness lies.

For there were days when one hated the sight of one's best friend, when the
mere sameness of everything drove one almost to distraction, and when the
heat and the little exasperations of our daily work kept the temper
constantly on edge. One had to laugh at something; it was the only way to
keep sane. So, if there should occasionally creep into these pages a
somewhat frivolous tone, I crave your indulgence, for it was truly the
atmosphere in which we, in common with other lonely outposts, lived and
worked. It was fatal to take life too seriously; wherefore, as we had
little else to laugh at, we laughed at ourselves.

But to all things an end. The weary time of waiting and preparation was
almost over. Sparse news filtered through that the northward advance
towards Palestine had already begun; that there had been heavy fighting at
Katia, where the Turks, under cover of a desert mist, surprised and cut
up--but failed to defeat--our cavalry; and that we had at Romani inflicted
the most summary defeat on the enemy since he made his abortive attack on
the Canal in 1915.

All of which, said the wiseacres, seemed to point in one direction; that
all the available troops would very soon be required for the more
considerable business at the northern end of the desert; in other words,
that we should shortly be on the move again. And for once the prophets were
right, for suddenly there was a great to-do in the camp; such a polishing
of guns and a burnishing of stirrup-irons and bits and chains, such a
cleaning of harness and saddlery as had never been known.

When it was done one of the elect came down and inspected us, after which
we went out into the desert beyond and fired at targets the ranges of which
had been carefully taken days before, so as not to disappoint the great man
by bad shooting. Whereupon, when he had expressed himself satisfied with
the accuracy of our fire and the smartness of our drill, he went away; and
presently came others, still more elect, for whom there was more cleaning
and burnishing, and who further declared their entire approval. Finally the
Commander-in-Chief himself came and inspected all the troops in the area;
and the work was as before, only more so. Now, when he too was pleased, we
knew that a move was what the Americans call a "cinch." And so it proved.
To wind up with a flourish, as it were, we went out to the hills again for
a last--and, as it happened, most successful--attempt on the Raha Pass,
when we climbed the hill mentioned earlier in this chapter.

Marching orders were awaiting us on our return. We were to trek to El
Kubri, a post on the Canal near Suez, there to await train accommodation.
This time the orders were not cancelled.




CHAPTER III

ON 'UNTIN'--AND SOME OTHER MATTERS


Having got us to El Kubri and told us to wait for a train, the authorities
apparently washed their hands of the whole affair and forgot all about us.
For six weeks we waited at a siding which seemed to be ashamed to look a
train in the face. Certainly we never saw one approach it, and we kept a
careful look-out for fear we should miss one.

On our arrival we did not, of course, make a camp, believing that we should
entrain in a day or two at most. But as day followed day and no train
appeared we began to think that this was a joke in deplorable taste. Why,
after working for six months like niggers are supposed to work making a
comfortable camp, should we be taken therefrom, dumped down on an
inhospitable siding and forgotten? It was not playing the game; and a
sinister rumour spread that we were not going north after all but were to
be sent down the Red Sea to the assistance of the Cherif of Mecca, who was
having a little war on his own account.

We knew what that meant. The assisting force would be sent to some
evil-smelling native town with an unpronounceable name, miles from
anywhere, left there to garrison the place and impress the inhabitants with
the might of British arms, while the Cherif and his wild horsemen charged
about the desert firing rifles in the air and emitting extraordinary yells
to frighten away the few stray, half-starved Turks in the vicinity. And the
prospect of travelling in a horse-boat down the Red Sea, even in November,
did not appeal to us in the least. However, tired of sleeping in culverts
and disused drains we pitched our camp on the top of a plateau overlooking
the Canal and prepared to await developments.

It was not unpleasant waiting, for there was the daily bathe in the Canal,
and the big ships and liners passing up and down seemed to bring us once
more in touch with civilisation. It used to be the kindly practice of the
passengers to throw tins of cigarettes and tobacco overboard whenever the
boat passed one of the numerous outposts guarding the Canal. It was quite
an ordinary occurrence for a man to dive in with all his clothes on and
swim after the coveted tins. Tobacco was so scarce that a mere wetting was
nothing; besides, our clothes were dry in an hour.

Also, we hunted the fox--or rather, jackal.

Now the Egyptian native undoubtedly looks on the British soldier as
"magnoon," afflicted of Allah, to be treated kindly, but to be relieved of
as much of his hard-earned pay as possible. And further, if the Faithful
are able to obtain something for nothing from these amiable madmen, it is
to be done. So we made ourselves popular with the fellaheen by hunting
jackals, which had the same predilection for other people's chickens as has
brother fox in England.

We had no hounds, except a fox-terrier who was too fat to run; only our
horses and our prodigious enthusiasm. The method of procedure was to
assemble the hunt near a likely place and send forward a fatigue-party to
dig out the jackal. When he appeared--and he usually did appear in a
hurry--we gave him a couple of minutes' start and then tally-ho! and away
after him over the plain. We had, of course, no fences to leap, but there
were deep nullahs and irrigation dykes wide enough to give one something to
think about. Moreover, the jackals were astonishingly speedy; they would
twist and turn and double on their tracks for half an hour at a stretch,
and they were game to the end.

Christmas came and was made endurable and even enjoyable by the kindness of
the Y.M.C.A., who lent us tables, yea and cloths, in addition to other
things.

But the outstanding event of this period of waiting was the visit of one of
Miss Lena Ashwell's concert parties to El Kubri. It will ever remain a
fragrant memory, for it was the first time we had seen English ladies for
nearly a year and it brought home very near to hear them sing.

They gave their concert in a specially constructed "hall" in the desert.
Sandbags were the mainstay of the platform and a large tarpaulin, G.S.,
formed the drop-scene. The walls were of rough canvas, upon which it was
inadvisable to lean, lest the whole structure collapsed. Primitive, no
doubt, but it suited the environment; and I have never seen in the most
elaborate West-end theatre anything like the enthusiasm here.

You called for a popular song or recitation and you got it, and as many
more as you liked to ask for. One of these talented ladies used to give a
recitation which became a permanent feature of her programme in Egypt. She
would come to the front of the stage and say confidentially to the
audience, "Do you know Lizzie 'Arris?" And back would come a mighty bellow,
"Aiwa!" This rite was always insisted upon before the artiste could
proceed, though she obviously enjoyed it almost as much as we did. She
might probably be amused to know that--such is fame!--amongst the thousands
of troops who heard her recite she was always known as "Lizzie 'Arris."

Early in the New Year the Mecca myth was finally dissipated, for we
moved--no, the train never arrived--to the big concentration camp at Suez,
and there started preparations in real earnest. It was strange to be
amongst people again after so many months of comparative solitude, and
stranger still to see houses and streets and civilians. Not that we had
much time to look around, for with the coming of the cool weather the hours
of work became appreciably longer.

Every day long columns of infantry went forth to get themselves into hard
condition by strenuous route marches. Dotted about the camp were little
groups of specialists and others practising their several trades. Here was
a bombing-school urgently killing imaginary Turks; there a squad of
bayonet-fighters engaged in the same pleasurable pursuit; while farther
away an eager band of signallers with their handy little cable-waggons laid
a wire at incredible speed.

Away out on the plain a string of harassed recruits trotted round a rough
manege lustily encouraged to a rigid observance of the good old maxim,
"'eels an' 'ands low; 'eads an' 'earts 'igh," by the astonishing profanity
of their riding-master; and beyond them their more proficient comrades
charged with wild yells upon a long line of stuffed sacks representing a
terror-stricken foe waiting patiently to be spitted.

Hard by these perspiring cavalrymen a battery of horse-artillery struggled
to master the intricacies of driving with fourteen-horse teams. These were
arranged in three rows of four abreast with one pair in lead, while of the
drivers three rode the near-horses and three the off-horses, with one
driver riding the near-horse of the leading-pair; a complicated business
requiring much skill and nicety of judgment in order to get the best out of
the horses.

Occasionally an apparently wild chaos of guns and limbers and horses
proclaimed that the battery had been successfully brought into action;
usually, however, the work was confined to getting the vehicles along under
these novel conditions. Alongside our own, French artillery with their
natty little "75's" daily strove to put the finishing touches to their
preparation.

It was to the confines of the camp that one went for the final signs that a
"show" was surely preparing, for here were all the dumps of material which
was to minister to the needs of an army in the field.

Sacks of grain and bales of tibbin stood in huge pyramidal mounds;
multitudinous rows of boxes containing bully-beef, condensed milk, dried
fruit, biscuits, cocoa, and tea, seemed to stretch for miles. One walked
down streets of bully-beef, as it were; loitered in squares bounded by
biscuit-tins; dodged up alleys flanked by tea-chests and cases of "Ideal"
milk. Through the streets and squares came an endless procession of lorries
and G.S. waggons, passing on their lawful occasions.

After all, the final word rests with the A.S.C. All your preparation, all
your study of new methods, all your concentrations of guns and men and
horses are futile--and how futile!--if the Army Service Corps says:
"Sorry, gentlemen, but we can't feed you; and if we could, there's nothing
to carry the food in." In the beginning this was especially true of Egypt;
for there was a lamentable shortage of nearly everything that goes to the
successful waging of war. It took nearly two years of patient endeavour
before an advance could really be considered, and by far the greater part
of that time was devoted to amassing supplies and organising means of
transport. It was a colossal task, the magnitude of which was never even
imagined by the people at home.

There was practically nothing in the country. We wanted sleepers, rails,
and locomotives for the railway; pipes, pumps, and other materials for the
water-supply; waggons, motor-lorries and light-cars for transport purposes;
sand-carts, cacolets, and ambulances for the R.A.M.C.; and, with the
exception of most kinds of vegetables, food.

All this had to be brought overseas.

There may not at first sight seem to be any striking connection between an
enemy submarine and the date of an offensive. When, however, that submarine
torpedoes and sinks a vessel containing two million pounds' worth of
absolutely essential material, such as locomotives or motor-lorries, the
connection becomes less, as the date of an offensive becomes more, remote.
In fact, as neither a locomotive nor a motor-lorry, nor a boat wherein to
carry them can be built in five minutes, the offensive temporarily recedes
from view, until the next boatload of material is safely landed.

Add to this the facts that a hundred and fifty miles of desert had to be
cleared of an enemy who fought with the most bitter determination all the
way, that a railway had to be constructed, and an adequate water-supply had
to be maintained over the same desert, before an offensive on a large scale
could even be dreamt about, and the connection mentioned above becomes
strikingly obvious.

Those people at home who, from time to time, asked querulously, "What are
we doing in Egypt?" should have seen Kantara in 1915, and then again
towards the end of 1916. Failing that I would ask them, and also those
kindly but myopic souls who said: "What a picnic you are having in Egypt!"
to journey awhile with us through Kantara and across the desert of Northern
Sinai. For the former there will be a convincing answer to their query; the
latter will have an opportunity of revising their notions as to what really
constitutes a picnic.

And we will start now, while the scent is hot, for already the infantry
have begun their march and guns and waggons are rumbling along the roads
from Suez to Kantara, the gate of the desert.




CHAPTER IV

KANTARA AND THE RAILWAY


At this point it would be as well to confer with the map once more. Be
pleased to imagine that we have trekked northwards from Suez, through the
beautiful little town of Ismailia, "the emerald of the desert," thence to
Ferry Post, which was a position of considerable importance when the Turks
attacked the Canal in February 1915, and finally to Kantara, where we will
pause to see if an answer can be found to the query propounded in the
preceding chapter.

If our inquiring friends had sailed down the Canal in 1915 they would have
seen at Kantara--had they noticed the place at all, which is unlikely--a
cluster of tents, a few rows of horse-lines, some camels, a white-walled
mosque, and a water-tank close to the water's edge; while their nostrils
would have been pungently assailed by the acrid smell of burning
camel-dung.

It is at least probable that the last-named would have made the most
striking impression. (It is still a powerful characteristic of Kantara.)
Certainly they would never have guessed from its appearance what Kantara
was destined to become: the terminus of the great military railway running
across the desert and through Palestine, a military port of the utmost
value, the beginning--or end--of the main road into Palestine, and the
biggest base in Egypt.

They are to be excused; no one would. Kantara did not unduly lift its head
in those days, and one did not, perhaps, at a first glance fully appreciate
its unique geographical position; for it is situated within easy reach of
Port Said and Suez, the two great termini of the Canal, and is thus
conveniently near the sea.

Moreover, the Turks were only some fourteen miles away, and the time was
not yet ripe. It is illustrative of our early limitations that our postal
designation was "Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, Canal Defences." Note
that no idea was then entertained of anything beyond defending the great
waterway.

Nothing else could be done. We had simply to hold off the Turks and make
shift as best we could, meanwhile collecting materials and making
preparations for a definite offensive when the psychological moment
arrived.

Originally the troops were on the west bank, near the station, which is on
the State Railway from Port Said to Cairo and Alexandria, until some one
high in authority suggested that as we were supposed to be defending the
Canal, and not the Canal defending us, it would be as well to move over to
the other side. The fact is, this would have been done much sooner had it
not been that the Turkish attack in February caused what is called a
vertical draught in political circles in Egypt, and it needed a very great
man indeed to order the move.

We were still dependent on Port Said for rations and supplies, while all
the water was brought up from the same place by boat and stored in the big
tank. The means of communication between the east and west banks were
somewhat primitive. At Kantara a pontoon bridge and a decrepit chain ferry
of uncertain moods maintained irregular intercourse with the other side. It
used to be one of our diversions to watch the ferry bringing across the
daily ration-waggon, whereof the horses, frightened by the clank of the
chains, frequently bolted the moment the "door" of the ferry was lowered.
To the right, in the direction of the camp, was a particularly nasty
incline, so the waggon usually decided to go to the left through the lines
of the Bikanir Camel Corps; whereupon the horses, having an unconquerable
aversion to camels, at once stampeded, and our rations were in dire
jeopardy. There were, too, a few rowing-boats for passengers, but these
were either on the other side when you wanted them or were too full of
holes to use.

Patrol-duty and spy-hunting were our principal occupations, as in most of
the other Canal stations; certainly few dreamed of the greatness in store.

It was not until the spring of 1916 that Kantara dropped its mantle of
obscurity and began to take its place as our principal base of operations.
From then onwards the place hummed with ever-increasing activity, for the
danger of a further attempt on the Canal was now somewhat remote, and work
could be carried on in comparative safety.

One day, perhaps, a scribe will rise up and write of the doings of the
Royal Engineers in this war, more particularly of their deeds in such
places as Salonica, Mesopotamia, East Africa, and Egypt; where, in addition
to the usual shortage of tools and material, they had to wrestle with every
conceivable kind of geographical obstacle that a bountiful Nature could
place in their way. The present scribe can only write of what they did in
Egypt and Palestine, and not half of that can be told.

As far as Kantara is concerned they came, they saw, they conquered. What
they saw was a desert which they proceeded to transform into a city,
certainly of tents and huts, but "replete with every convenience"--as the
house-agents say. As a start they pensioned off the aged chain ferry into
decent retirement and built a goodly swing bridge, over which were brought
timber to be cut into beams and joists; nuts and bolts and screws, and an
olla podrida of materials.

When this was done a gentleman called the Assistant Director of Works came
and made a plan of the city. Here a difficulty arose. In this climate a
white man has his limitations, and one of them is that hard manual labour
when the sun is summer-high is exhausting in the extreme, and is, moreover,
explicitly forbidden between the hours of 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. by the
authorities.

It was then that the voice of the Egyptian Labour Corps was heard in the
land. Little is known outside the country of this admirable corps, yet it
is scarcely too much to say that they saved the situation here as
elsewhere. Recruited from almost every class of the native community, from
the towns and cities, from the Delta, from their "belods" in the far-off
Soudan, they came in thousands to dig and delve, to fetch and carry, to do
a hundred things impossible for a white man to do in that climate. It is
difficult to over-estimate their usefulness; though not as a rule big men,
they would carry for considerable distances weights that a far bigger white
man failed even to lift.

Their staple diet consisted of bread, onions, lentils, rice, dates, and
oil--with perhaps a little meat after sunset. They drank prodigious
quantities of water, and could not in fact go for long without. Firmly but
fairly treated by their British officers and non-commissioned officers,
they went anywhere and did anything; and wherever you found the sappers,
there, too, you would see the khaki galabeahs and hear the eternal chant:
"Kam leila, kam yom?" of the E.L.C. Under their hands Kantara took shape.

Supervised and directed by the Engineers, gangs of them made roads,
workmanlike affairs calculated to stand the strain shortly to be imposed on
them by the daily passage of thousands of lorries and waggons. Eastward
from the Canal what had been a mere track, fetlock deep in sand, became a
broad road macadamised for ten kilos, from which radiated similar roads in
all directions, and on which abutted presently the great camps that seemed
to spring up like mushrooms in a night.

Alongside the roads other gangs laid watermains connected directly with
Port Said, for it soon became utterly impossible to bring an adequate daily
supply of water by boat. At certain points stand-pipes were erected so that
working-parties and other troops could fill their water-bottles without
having to go far to do so; in the hot weather every extra yard tells.

This was the beginning of the pipe-line laid stage by stage as the army
advanced, across the desert and far into Palestine. We shall see more of it
later.

Then the A.D.W. collected his carpenters and bricklayers and bade them
instruct their dusky labourers in the building of gigantic mess-huts, in
size and shape not unlike a hangar, capable of providing meal accommodation
for hundreds of men at a time; ration and store-huts for the numerous
camps; brick enclosures for the kitchens; incinerators, and a thousand and
one things necessary for the troops.

It was a liberal education to watch a British N.C.O. working with the gang
of natives under his command. Usually his entire vocabulary of Arabic
consisted of about ten words, of which the following are a fair sample:--

Aiwa--Yes.
La--No.
Quais--Good.
Mush quais--No good.
Igri!--Quickly!
Imshi!--Clear out!
Ta-ala henna--Come here.

With these, comically interpolated with English expletives, he performed
marvels, from stone-breaking to bridge-building.

Presumably he gave his instruction by some process of thought-transmission,
an art that seems peculiarly suited to the genius of the British soldier.
"Quais!" he would say, when a man had done a job to his liking, and the
man's comrades crowded round carefully to examine the work, after which
they went away and copied it faithfully. If on the other hand, the man
failed to do what was required of him, there would be an aggrieved bellow
of: "La! Mush quais!" and the perspiring native would get down to it once
more, while the others charged up again to see what in future to avoid.
Moreover, whatever mistakes they made subsequently it was rarely that one.

"Igri, Johnny!" or alternatively and more forcibly, "Get a bloomin' igri
on, Johnny!" was the favourite ejaculation of an N.C.O. when he wanted to
cure that tired feeling peculiar to the Egyptian native. (All natives
answer to the name of Johnny, by the way.)

"Imshi!" was the N.C.O.'s great word, however; he used it on all occasions
implying a departure from his presence; when a man's face displeased him,
for instance, and when he dismissed them for the day. They made a weird
combination, these two, the dominant white man and the dusky native; but
they built Kantara--and a few other places.

As the camp grew and grew so also did its needs. The Army Service Corps
arrived in force and demanded for themselves a great depot, covering many
acres, which was to be the Main Supply of the army advancing into
Palestine. Materials and stores could not now be brought in sufficient
quantities by the State railway on the other bank, and the traffic over the
Canal bridges was becoming increasingly heavy. Accordingly the engineers
found another outlet for their energies: they created a fleet!

Jetties and wharves were built on the east bank, and to them came presently
numbers of strange vessels, broad in the beam like a barge, and with
monstrous lateen sails that looked too unwieldy to be furled or set; and on
their bows they bore the painted letters "I.W.T., R.E." and a numeral.
They were native feluccas, garnered from every canal and waterway in Egypt.
They brought grain and fodder for the horses, rations for the men,
vegetables of all kinds from the fertile province of Fayoum, stores for the
roads; and at Port Said and Suez material from the outside world was
trans-shipped on to them for conveyance to Kantara. Loaded almost down to
the water's edge they came to the jetties, tied up, emptied, and went away
for more. Great wooden warehouses were built to receive the cargoes, and
almost daily the number grew until they extended for miles down the Canal
bank.

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