Within two days of the receipt of General Allenby's letter cancelling the mixed Brigade formation, we were suddenly ordered to leave the cool and pleasant hill-tops of Ephraim and march down to the sweltering heat and fever-stricken desolation of the Jordan Valley, 1,300 feet below sea level, in the very hottest and most unhealthy month of the year.
We, of course, took our orders for the deadly Valley quite cheerfully, feeling that it was "not ours to reason why," but we did feel that it was a blow below the belt to be taken out of the line on the Nablus front, just as an attack, for which we had done most of the spade work, was about to be made.
Had we remained with General Emery, I feel sure that he would have given us a chance to show our mettle in the raid which was timed to take place on 12th August, 1918.
Even when we were transferred to the Brigade in the 60th Division we still looked forward to taking part in this move, and, as I have already mentioned, we slaved away at every kind of preparation for the affair, but, alas, we were taken out of the line, and ordered to march to a new front, just three days before the attack.
It almost looked as if our enemies feared we would do well, and our prowess would then get noised abroad to the discomfiture of our detractors.
On the 9th August we marched from our pretty camp at Inniskilling Road, where we had revelled in the grateful shade of the olive trees which abound there, and took the road, bag and baggage, for Ram Allah, our first halt, where we were to bivouac. Here we were to get further orders from the G.O.C. 53rd Division, whose headquarters were in that ancient town. It was midnight when we got to our camp, where we found that someone had carefully chosen a site for us which was literally one mass of stones. It must have been the favourite place of execution in olden days when stoning to death was in vogue, and the stones had never since been gathered up! There was no grumbling, however; every man cleared a little patch whereon to lie down on his waterproof sheet, and slept the sleep of the tired. We remained at this delectable spot for the best part of two days, and on the afternoon of the 11th we marched to Jerusalem, where we came under the orders of the Desert Mounted Corps.
We bivouacked about a mile or so short of Jerusalem, and, as the camp was reached long after dark, the City remained hidden until dawn next morning. I had a cheery and welcome dinner the evening we arrived with Lieutenant-General Sir Philip Chetwode, who commanded the 20th Corps, at his headquarters at the German Hospice on the Mount of Olives.
I was awake about 5 o'clock next morning, just as the mist was beginning to disperse, and woke up everybody all round about me to have their first look at the Holy City. My officers were all very tired, so merely gave one peep at it out of sleepy eyes, and then buried themselves once more in their blankets. Later on the men spent the whole of the forenoon visiting Jerusalem, and especially the celebrated Wailing Wall, which is the only authentic portion of the Temple enclosure which still remains. Its huge blocks of stone seem to be as indestructible as the indomitable race which designed, shaped, and placed them in position so many centuries ago. The Jewish "bevel" is a noticeable feature in the stones. Here the Jews for nearly two thousand years have wept and wailed, placing their foreheads against the walls and copiously watering the masonry with their tears. The wailing of the Jews at this remnant of their Temple is one of the most pathetic and curious sights I have ever witnessed.
The Jewish mendicants who are allowed to congregate in the vicinity of the Wailing Wall are not a pleasing spectacle, and I hope that one of the first acts of the Zionists will be the removal of this blot on Jewry.
Bethlehem can be reached in a few minutes by motor from Jerusalem, and near to it Rachel's tomb stands by the roadside, while almost opposite is the field in which Ruth gleaned.
At 4.30 in the afternoon of this day (12th August) we marched off under the walls of Jerusalem, past the Damascus Gate, skirted the Garden of Gethsemane, and wended our way on to the road which would take us down to Jericho. It was a lovely sight as we halted and looked back over the Valley of Jehoshaphat, with the brook Kidron between us and the walls of the venerable city, the beautiful Mosque of Omar overshadowing the Temple area, the mysterious Golden Gates fronting us, sealed up, and the westering sun gilding Mount Zion.
I have seen Jerusalem since from many points, but the view from the corner of the Jericho Road, where it skirts the Mount of Olives on the descent to Bethany, is, to my mind, by far the most beautiful and impressive. I halted every platoon there, so that all might look well at the glory of it—a glory which, alas, some of them would never again return to look upon.
We bivouacked about three miles beyond Jerusalem, and next morning (13th August) marched through Bethany while it was yet dark, and reached our bivouac at Talaat ed Dumm at 2.30 in the afternoon. I reported our arrival to General Chauvel, of the Australian Mounted Division, whose headquarters were at this place, and from his hut I had a splendid view of the beauty and desolation of the Jordan Valley which lay spread out before me.
Talaat ed Dumm is a weird uncanny spot. It is mentioned in the Book of Joshua as Adummim, and is the gate of the Judæan wilderness. The red and yellow barren hills and rocky narrow valleys have a peculiar desolation all their own, while the heat at the time we were there was scorching.
By some jugglery on the part of the Staff, all our transport animals had been taken away from us, and we found ourselves stranded without a particle of shade, shelter, or food on this God-forsaken spot, sweltering in the fierce rays of the burning sun. At last, towards sundown, our baggage and rations arrived in motor lorries, dinners and teas were rolled into one, and peace reigned once more in this drowsy wilderness.
When the terrific heat had become somewhat less scorching, accompanied by the Padre, I wandered up to an ancient ruin which topped the summit of a hill dominating the roadway. This proved to be the castle of a redoubtable robber chief, who had lived here in bygone days and taken his toll from every traveller. From time immemorial this had been the stronghold of the robber bands who waylaid, robbed, and even murdered those journeying to and fro between Jerusalem and Jericho. It was close to this bandit's castle that the Good Samaritan poured oil and wine into the wounds of the unfortunate wayfarer who had fallen among thieves. It was an ideal spot for a robber's lair, because it commands a full view of what is practically the only route for caravans through this dreary barren wilderness.
We were not sorry to leave our camp at dawn, and strode out so merrily that we overtook a Cavalry Brigade which blocked our way! As we marched down the steep descent to the Jordan Valley we had on our left the Wadi Kelt, which wound its tortuous course through the boulders at the bottom, hundreds of feet sheer below us. Some people say that it was here that the Prophet Elijah was fed by the ravens, but it has been satisfactorily proved that the brook Cherith, where Elijah hid, is now known as the Wadi Fusail. It runs into the Jordan from the westward, near a place called the rock of Oreb.
This suggested an idea to me that the "ravens" spoken of in the Bible were not birds but people, for the word "Oreb" means a raven. Now we know there was a prince called Oreb, for we have an account of his death in Judges, Chapter 7, Verse 25. It is also a well-known fact that in the East tribes take their names from their prince or chief man, so that in all probability there was a tribe called Orbim (the plural of "oreb" or raven).
The place where Prince Oreb was slain was the rock of Oreb, and it is known to this day as "Tel el Orbaim." Moreover, this place is in Gilead, which was Elijah's old home, so it was quite natural that he should flee to this neighbourhood and be fed with flesh and bread, night and morning, by his friends the Orbim, or "Ravens."
How similar, too, are the words used in the 4th and 9th verses of 1st Kings, Chapter 17: "I have commanded the ravens to feed thee there," and "I have commanded a widow woman there to sustain thee!"
Can it be possible that the ravens were people and not birds, and that our old and learned translators fell into the error of thinking that they were birds, because they did not know of the possible existence of a tribe called "Orbim" or "Ravens"?
We continued our march down through the Judæan wilderness, the place where the High Priest yearly turned loose the Scapegoat which bore on its head the sins of the Children of Israel.
Occasionally, away to our right, between the desolate, dusty, sulphurous-looking hills, we caught a momentary glimpse of the emerald sheen of the Dead Sea, while away on our left on the edge of the valley, stood out the Mount of Temptation.
The moment we got down to the Jordan Valley (or Ghor, as the Arabs call it) the real trials of the men began. The heat was intense, and the going became very heavy, for we had no longer a good metalled road on which to march. Dust lay a foot deep on the path; it was exceedingly fine and looked like the best powdered cement. As the men marched clouds of it arose and choked them, while their feet were actually sucked down at each step, and an effort had to be made to draw the foot out again, as if some devil were below, pulling at the sole of the boot.
The sixteen platoons forming the battalion marched well apart in order to evade as much of this blinding, choking, sulphurous dust as possible.
Jericho, the city of the Palms, lay a little to our right. We passed its outskirts and halted for a rest under Old Jericho, the walls of which the Bible tells us miraculously fell to Joshua's trumpets over 3,000 years ago. This was a thought which acted as a spur to every Jewish soldier, and although the march was a hard one and the worst of it had yet to be done, the men came through the ordeal triumphantly, and very few dropped out by the way. Those who did fall by the wayside were helped along by our Padre, the Rev. L. A. Falk, who gave up his horse to the footsore and carried the pack and rifle of the weary, thus cheering them along into Camp. This time it was the Priest who proved the Good Samaritan on the road to Jericho.
Soon after we recommenced our march from under the walls of old Jericho a huge black column of fine dust, whose top was lost in the Heavens, arose in front of us and gyrated slowly and gracefully as our vanguard, leading us onward to our bivouac on the banks of a cool and pleasant brook, where it vanished. I felt that this was a good omen for our success in the Jordan Valley, for it was a case of the Children of Israel being led once more by a pillar of cloud.
The Headquarters of the Australian Mounted Division was close beside our bivouac, and here I had a very welcome breakfast with Major-General H. W. Hodgson, its capable and genial Commander. The General told me that he would review the battalion on the following afternoon, on its march out to the new camping ground on the Auja.
Next morning, while the men were resting and refreshing themselves on the banks of the Nueiameh (for so the cool stream was named), I rode down the Valley to the eastward of Jericho, accompanied by our Padre.
We waded through the Wadi Kelt, luxuriant grass growing where the water had overflowed its banks, showing how fruitful the Valley would be if it were irrigated. We searched the plain to discover, if possible, some traces of the ancient Gilgal, Joshua's G.H.Q., and eventually we came upon what we took to be the site, some three miles to the south-east of Old Jericho. At all events we found some very ancient stonework buried in grass-grown mounds just about where Gilgal might be looked for, and I feel sure that if excavations were carried out here some very interesting discoveries would be made.
After we had briefly examined the ruins, I suggested to the Padre that we should go and breakfast in Jericho, if indeed we could find a caravanserai there, so in search of a hostelry we rode into the modern city of the Palms.
It proved to be but a poor tumble-down jumble of buildings, as might have been expected. However, as we rode along, we came upon a somewhat pretentious looking building on which was painted "The Gilgal Hotel." Whatever doubt there may have been about the ancient Gilgal, here at any rate was a modern one, the discovery of which at this moment was most opportune, for we were both decidedly hungry after our explorations.
As we rode into the courtyard a dozen Arab urchins who had been lounging about made a dash for our horses, each eager to grasp the reins in the hope of some "baksheesh." An elderly dame, on hearing the scuffle, emerged from a doorway, scattered the surplus boys, and called loudly, "Victoria, Victoria." A musical voice from a room above responded to this familiar name, and, on looking up, we saw a buxom, olive-tinted damsel step on to the balcony. A voluble dialogue then took place between mother and daughter, the result of which was that Victoria, in excellent English, invited us up to breakfast. We had a most sumptuous feast, or so it appeared to us, inured as we were to plain Camp fare. I was particularly pleased with the flavour of the honey, which Victoria informed me was taken from a hive in the garden. The milk, too, was good and plentiful, so we had at last reached the "land flowing with milk and honey."
Before we left, I asked our fair hostess how it came about that she, a Syrian damsel, was known as Victoria, to which she promptly replied, "Because I am Queen of Jericho."
Some time afterwards I made a special visit to Old Jericho. Naturally, during the 3,000 odd years that have elapsed since its capture by Joshua, the old city has got silted up and the place has been covered over by soil washed down from the Judæan hills; but just before the War a party of Antiquarians commenced excavation work and exposed several buildings of the old city, some twenty or thirty feet below the surface of the ground. There the lintels and door-posts of wood may still be seen embedded in the brickwork, but they are all turned into charcoal, probably from the fire which consumed the city by Joshua's command.
It will be remembered that the rebuilding of Jericho was forbidden under a terrible curse, "Cursed be the man before the Lord that riseth up and buildeth this city Jericho; he shall lay the foundation thereof in his firstborn, and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates of it."
The Battalion left its pleasant bivouac by the Nueiameh at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and waded across through its cool waters; when we had marched through the appalling dust of the Valley for some three miles, I observed General Hodgson waiting to review us on the far side of a steep nullah. I cantered on, and took my place beside the General and his A.D.C., Captain Buxton.
I am certain that a review was never held under more peculiar circumstances.
The men marched in column of fours, platoon after platoon, down one side of the steep gully and up the other, and then past the General, who apparently expected to see them marching as steadily as if they had been in the Long Valley at Aldershot; and the strange part of it is that they were marching steadily, shoulder to shoulder, in spite of the difficult ground which they had to negotiate and the enormous load they had to carry. They were one mass of dust from head to foot. Nothing could be seen of their faces except a pair of eyes blinking out of a countenance which looked as if it had been dipped in a flour barrel and then streaked with lines of soot, for rivulets of black sweat ran in parallel lines down their dust-covered faces.
It was the funniest sight I ever saw in my life, but the men were as grave as owls. I could hardly keep my face straight when, on the command "eyes left" being given, they turned their comical looking faces boldly up to the General!
I remarked to him that it was a bit of an ordeal to review them just after scrambling down and up the steep sides of a gully, and he replied, "That is exactly why I am here. I want to see how they shape under the most difficult possible circumstances, and I must congratulate you on their soldierly bearing and steadiness."
The Battalion certainly did itself credit that day, for it was no light ordeal to go through, considering the dust and heat, and the enormous weight that the unfortunate men had to carry stowed away on every part of the person.
When we had completed about six miles of the march towards our camping place at the Auja, we were met by the Brigade Major of the 12th Cavalry Brigade, an energetic Staff Officer, who, besides coming himself, had thoughtfully provided guides to lead us into the Camp in the darkness. It must be remembered that we were now within sight and range of the Turkish guns, and all large bodies of troops had to move in the dark. We were very glad to reach our bivouac on the Auja, which is a pleasant, swiftly-flowing streamlet, with many cool and shady nooks amid the foliage which grows in profusion along its banks.
We were now attached to the 12th Cavalry Brigade, commanded by Brigadier-General J. T. Wigan, and on the 16th, 17th, and 18th August we took over D and E sections of the Desert Corps front line, relieving the 19th Indian Lancers and the 6th Indian Cavalry Regiments. We were unfortunately only a few days with the 12th Brigade, which was moved to Ludd soon after we were posted to it.
The Jordan Valley, at the place where we were entrenched, is about fifteen miles wide and is over 1,200 feet below sea level. It is for the most part fairly flat, but is intersected here and there by huge ravines, which are in places quite narrow, and at others some hundreds of yards across, with sheer cliffs some thirty to fifty feet high as banks. Looking at the valley from the hills that border it, one would never suspect the existence of these great rifts. The River Jordan runs in the centre of one of these depressions, which in places is 50 to 100 feet below the ordinary level of the rest of the valley.
The Wadi Mellahah is another huge cleft or rift, running about a mile to the west of, and more or less parallel to, the Jordan. It is some 10 miles long, and varies from a few score yards to a mile in width. Steep cliffs and slopes shut it in on both sides, and make the bed of the Mellahah about as hot and stifling a spot as can well be imagined, while, to add further abomination to it, noxious fumes arose in places from its barren and desolate looking sides and bed. A tiny, briny streamlet runs its straggling course through it in the dry season, although in places it spreads out into large reed-covered swamps. The water of this rivulet was so salt that a single drop was more than one could bear to take on the tip of one's tongue.
We made our headquarters in this gully some three miles from where it flows into the Auja, of which it is a tributary, and here we fixed up a reed hut as our mess house, under the shade of the only tree in this depressing spot. Of course we had to keep down in the depths of the ravine, otherwise we would be seen and shelled by the Turks.
This Mellahah Wadi had been made in the course of ages by the rush of water coming down from the Judæan range and from other hills to the north where there is a heavy annual rainfall. Here and there in the ravine, where it is at its broadest, stand isolated hillocks which the water has not worn away, and on these had been constructed some of our more northern redoubts; they were easy to defend and commanded a good view, for their tops were on a level with the surface of the surrounding valley.
One of our redoubts was named "Salt," and just to the north of it a sparkling spring bubbled out of the side of the cliff. It looked so pure and inviting that I took a mouthful, and was nearly poisoned for my pains. It was the most briny, sulphurous liquid imaginable. There is a fortune awaiting the man who exploits its medicinal properties!
The northern end of the Mellahah was held by the Turks, and there it opened out into a huge swamp. Of course the mosquitoes bred and thrived in this natural reserve, and played havoc, not only with the Turkish Army, but with our men too; when the wind blew from the north it carried the little demons amongst us in swarms. We had drained the swampy part of the Mellahah within our own lines at enormous pains, so that unless the wind blew from the north, we were fairly free of the irritating pests.
As a matter of fact we used to go out every night half a mile or so in front of our wire, deepening and diverting the streamlet, in order to dry up the swamp and remove the breeding ground of the mosquitoes as far as possible from our posts. This was always risky work, for, if the Turks had discovered what we were about, they would no doubt have made it very lively for us with rifle and machine-gun fire.
From a military point of view our position in the Mellahah was a hazardous one.
We were now on the extreme right flank and extreme north front of the British Army in Palestine—the post of honour and danger in the line, with the Turks practically on three sides of us in the salient which we held. We had the most exposed piece of front to guard which it is possible to conceive, and we were so badly supported by guns, etc., that, had the Turks made a determined attack in force, we would probably have been annihilated before succour could reach us. It was altogether an extraordinarily risky position in which to place a raw battalion. The authorities must have had great faith in our fighting abilities.
We were the only troops in the Mellahah, or within miles of it, our next nearest neighbours being the West Indian Regiment, which had a much better position than ours, close under the Judæan hills, with the swift sweet waters of the Auja running through their lines.
The 20th Indian Infantry Brigade held the Jordan some three miles to the south of us, and it would have been quite feasible for the Turks to have concentrated a considerable force and thrust themselves into the gap between our lines and theirs, and by so doing we would have been completely cut off.
The Anzac Mounted Division was strung out a long way southward, from the Auja to the Dead Sea, and some considerable time would have to elapse before these doughty warriors could come to our assistance. The guns guarding our section of the front were very few—about six 13-pounders and a couple of howitzers, the latter being rarely brought into action.
We had in our neighbourhood part of the 4th Turkish Army, some 10,000 strong, with over 70 guns, so it can be seen how precarious our position was. In our infant days some wag had bestowed upon us the unofficial motto of "No advance without security," but here we did not live up to it, for we were indeed well advanced without any security.
The Turks were in possession of the important Umm esh Shert Ford on the Jordan, and held very strong positions covering the ford on our side of the river, and their entrenched line ran right across our front and onward to the Judæan foothills, some ten miles to the west of our position.
To the southward of the Umm esh Shert Ford we had an observation post on the cliffs which overlooked the Jordan, and on a moonlight night it was an eerie experience to stroll across to it and lie on the warm sand, listening to the melancholy howling of the jackals and hyenas which filled the air with their dismal cries and wailings. I often wondered if the thick growth of tangled trees and shrubs which spread out over 100 feet below me up and down the river banks did not conceal many strange wild creatures, still unsuspected in these regions; the place lends itself to the weird in all things, but the only uncanny thing I saw there was a reddish coloured hare with enormous ears, which, on that occasion at all events, got away safely to the shelter of the reeds.
The Turkish outposts at this point were established on the opposite bank of the Jordan, but they never molested us, or attempted to cross at this point.
Our sector of some seven miles of front stretched from this point in a north-westerly direction, and we held a series of redoubts, some on the Jordan bank of the Wadi Mellahah, others on hillocks in the ravine, as I have already described, and three more on the right bank of the Wadi.
This sector was divided into two. I placed Major Ripley in command of the north-western part, while Major Neill commanded the south-eastern wing. Each of these officers had some six redoubts to defend, and several of the posts were quite isolated and had to depend entirely on themselves in case of attack.
I recommended that two of these posts should be abolished, for they were unsuitable for defence purposes. The Corps Commander (General Chauvel), the Divisional Commander, and all their staffs came out one day to see if my suggestion was sound. I remember we all stood in a row looking over one of the parapets of the useless redoubt in full view of the Turks; if they had only fired a lucky shot from "Jericho Jane" that morning they might have made a good bag!
All the generals agreed that the two posts were useless, so we dismantled them gladly, for it meant less men to find for duty each night—a most important consideration when one's men are all too few for the work in hand.
This was the last I saw of General Chauvel and General Hodgson, for they were soon afterwards ordered out of the Valley to prepare for the great concentration which was being secretly carried out on the extreme left of the Army near Jaffa. When the Australian Division was removed we were attached to Major-General Sir Edward Chaytor, who commanded the Anzac Mounted Division of immortal fame. This was a piece of rare good fortune for us, for we found in General Chaytor a man of wide sympathy and understanding, a demon for work and efficiency, but always ready to give honour where honour was due—even unto Jews.
Although our position in the Mellahah was such an isolated and precarious one, we had no pessimistic forebodings with regard to our ability to give a good account of ourselves if attacked. We felt that "the greater the danger, the greater the honour," and it behoved us to be all the more vigilant, and up and doing at all times.
The magnificent way in which the men responded to the call of duty in that desolate, nerve-racking region, is beyond all praise. All day long the sun beat down mercilessly on them, their only shelter being a flimsy bit of bivouac canvas, and the nights were stifling. Perspiration streamed from every pore, even when resting. Flies and mosquitoes deprived everyone of sleep, for our mosquito nets soon became torn and worthless, and could not be replaced.
Just before dark every available man other than those required to go on patrols and reconnoitring duty had to parade fully equipped and march to his post on the redoubts. Here the apparently endless night was spent. At dawn the men marched back to their comfortless bivouacs to snatch what repose they could before they were again called upon to work on strengthening the redoubts and deepening the trenches.
It was in truth an exceedingly strenuous life under such terrible climatic conditions.
Water could only be obtained in very limited quantities; every drop had to be carried from the Auja four or five miles away. The whole place was constantly enveloped in stagnant dust, so it can be imagined with what appetite a man could tackle food under such appalling conditions, every mouthful of which was necessarily full of sand and grit.
An Australian summed up life in the Jordan Valley very well, when he remarked one sweltering day, "God need not have troubled to make Hell when He had the Jordan Valley."
This part of the Jordan Valley is not supposed to be habitable during the months of August and September. Even the wild Bedouins, who linger in these parts to feed their flocks of goats, flee from the accursed place in these two dreaded months.
No British soldier had yet been called upon to endure the horrors of the Mellahah even for a week; nevertheless the Jewish Battalion was kept there for over seven weeks at the most deadly period of the year. Looking back upon it all I can only say that the Jewish people may well be proud of their Battalion for the admirable way it "carried on" in this abomination of desolation. It was about the hottest, most unhealthy, and most God-forsaken place in the universe—in fact some of my men assured me that they saw the Devil himself there, horns, tail and all!
Such was the position allotted to the 38th Battalion to defend and hold, and it can be imagined that the change from the hill tops of Ephraim to this inferno was appalling.
Knowing that our enemies had already tried to abolish the Jewish Battalion, I was strongly reminded of the story of Uriah the Hittite!
How terribly we suffered owing to our tour of duty in this pestilential region will be described in a later chapter.
Although the climatic change from the cool hill-tops of Samaria to the inferno of the Jordan Valley differed as does Heaven from Hell, still we had compensations in the fair, just, and kindly treatment meted out to us by General Chaytor and every officer, non-commissioned officer, and man of the Anzac Mounted Division.
The battalion stood entirely on its merits, and that it found favour in the sight of these famous fighters is the proudest feather in its cap. Their minds were as broad as the wide spaces from whence they had come, and in their strong souls there was no room for petty spite or discrimination. If we quitted ourselves like men and performed our duties like good soldiers, then it did not matter, even if we were Jews.
The Anzac Mounted Division Headquarters were about eight miles from my own, and it frequently fell to my lot to ride there through the devouring heat of the day for a conference with the General. Never shall I forget the delicious cool draught of shandy that always welcomed me, straight from the ice-box, mixed by the cunning hand of Colonel Bruxner, the A.A. and Q.M.G. of the Division. Bruxner would spy me from afar off, and, being a man of understanding, had the nectar all ready by the time I reached his tent, and oh, how good it was! No place in the world can raise a thirst like the Jordan Valley, but it was almost worth enduring when it could be quenched by a long draught of Bruxner's elixir.
The principal objective on our special piece of front was the Umm esh Shert Ford over the Jordan. It was some two miles to the East of our most northerly posts on the Mellahah, and it was well protected by a series of trenches, by barbed wire entanglements, and by the fortified Jordan cliffs. If we could, by any chance, get possession of this crossing, it would mean that the Turkish communications would be thrown considerably out of gear, and all their local arrangements East and West of the Jordan completely upset.
Furthermore, in the case of an advance on our part, by pushing mounted troops across this Ford, the whole of the Turkish position, ten miles to the East-South-East of us at Nimrin, would be turned, for the road by the Umm esh Shert Ford was the short cut to Es Salt (the old Ramoth Gilead) and Amman (the ancient Rabbath Ammon, where that splendid Hittite soldier Uriah was treacherously sent to his death).
Our constant endeavour, therefore, in patrol and reconnaissance, was to gather all possible information as to the ways and means of getting at this spot and making it our own. No stone was left unturned and no risk avoided which would lead to this important result, and in due course we had our reward.
In such an isolated position as ours, the only thing to be done was to adopt an aggressive attitude towards our enemies and so induce them to think that we were a great deal stronger than was actually the case. This policy succeeded admirably, and we put up such a good bluff, and harried the Turks so vigorously, that they were in constant dread of attack, and immediately began to erect barbed wire fences right along their entire front, with every appearance of haste and nervousness.
Considering the nature and extent of the position which we held, we lost very few men in killed, wounded, and missing during the seven odd weeks we grilled in the Jordan Valley. We were daily and nightly shelled, but the Turkish gunners rarely had any luck. On the other hand we harassed them continuously, with the result that deserters began to come in freely, sometimes singly, and often in twos and threes. It is strange, but true, that until we came into the valley, prisoners and deserters were very scarce.
On one occasion a prisoner was brought before me trembling violently. On asking him what was the matter, he replied that he feared his throat was about to be cut! His officer, he said, had told him that we finished off all our prisoners in this way. I laughed, and (wishing to prove him) told him that after he had had some food I proposed to send him back to his camp so that he might tell all his comrades how well we treated those who fell into our hands. On hearing this he cried bitterly that he did not want to return to his camp at any price, and begged to be kept by the British, a request to which I of course readily acceded.
A Turkish sergeant who was captured one day made us all laugh heartily. Before he was marched off to the prisoners' compound somebody wanted to take a photo of him. The little sergeant (for he was quite diminutive) preened himself like a peacock, gave a rakish tilt to his headgear, a fierce twist to his moustache, and struck a dramatic pose before he would allow himself to be snapped. He was a regular Turkish Charley Chaplin!
Most of our prisoners told us quite frankly that they were tired of the war, their ill usage, and bad food, and were glad to be in our hands, more especially as they never got any rest in front of our lines.
On the 26th August thirteen Turks of the 1st Infantry Battalion of the 2nd Regiment of the 24th Division surrendered. These men deserted en bloc while they were holding a post which guarded the flank of their battalion. I found out from them that their relief party was due to arrive before I could possibly get a half platoon from my battalion to occupy the deserted post. If time had allowed me to lay a little trap, I should like to have seen the faces of the incoming Turks when they found themselves looking down our rifle barrels as they marched into their post. They must have been sufficiently astonished as it was to find the place empty.
I watched an exciting little adventure one morning as I stood in one of the fire bays of our most advanced redoubt, just as dawn was breaking, peering through my field glasses to the northward, along the jagged course of the Mellahah where it spread out into many channels and ravines near the Turkish lines.
All at once I spied, some 800 yards off, two Turkish officers standing at the foot of a huge sand slope, gazing at something away to their left. They looked to me as if they had come out to shoot a hare, or perhaps a gazelle, as there were some of these pretty creatures in the Valley. One of the officers was extremely tall and wore a long black cloak.
Now I knew that I had an officer (Lieutenant Evans) and man out scouting in that neighbourhood, and I felt rather anxious for their safety if they should, unexpectedly, come upon the Turks. I therefore searched the vicinity with my glasses, and sure enough, there they were walking calmly along on the opposite side of the high sand bank under which the Turks were standing. Neither party was aware of the presence of the other. I felt it was not a time to take any chances, for I did not know how many more Turks there might be concealed from my view behind the many sand hills that were dotted about, so I called up Major Ripley and sent him and half-a-dozen men at the double, to cause a diversion, and, if possible, to capture the enemy officers.
While giving these directions I kept my glasses on my two scouts, hoping that a lucky turn would take them out of danger, or expose the enemy to them before they themselves were spotted. All at once Lieutenant Evans headed up the side of the sand ridge, and I knew then that all would be well, for the Turks had their backs to him. As soon as he reached the top he cautiously peered over, and he must have been astonished to see the enemy so near, for he promptly ducked his head out of view. He then slid down the slope, took his orderly with him, and ran to put himself between the Turks and their lines, hoping, I suppose, to ambush them as they returned. The latter, all unconscious of what was going on, were taking things very casually, and instead of going back to camp, they came on a little way in the direction of our lines. This upset Evans' calculations, so he and his man began to stalk the Turks, and just as he was about to open fire on them they discovered him, and then both sides loosed off their rifles and a regular duel began.
Meanwhile Major Ripley and his men had climbed half-way up the side of the ravine, and they in turn began to blaze away at the Turks, who were now thoroughly scared. They took to flight, and in the many twists, turns and channels thereabouts managed to get safely away to their own lines.
Evans and his scout got back to ours, none the worse for their adventure.
I had a narrow shave myself in this same post a couple of days later. It was my custom to scan the enemy's lines soon after daybreak every morning from this commanding position in order to see if any changes had taken place in the night. A Turkish sniper must have seen me and marked me for his own. At all events I had just finished my survey, and stepped down from my perch, when a bullet buried itself with a thud in the bank just where my head had been!
A couple of days later Lieutenant Mendes and Sergeant Levy were out scouting along the intricate course of the Mellahah, to the north of our lines, when they walked into an ambuscade; the Sergeant fell at the first volley, but luckily Mendes was not hit. He refused to surrender, and, in spite of some fleet-footed Turks making the pace very hot for him, he eluded the lot and got back to our lines safely, but thoroughly exhausted.
On the 28th August a patrol of six privates, under the command of a sergeant, crept up to the Turkish trenches near the Umm esh Shert Ford. It was a dark and windy night, so they got quite close to the enemy without being seen. When about thirty yards short of the Turks they lay down and then observed a sentry standing a little way off. One of the patrol, Private Sapieshvili, a Jew from the Caucasus, began to crawl forward and cautiously stalk the unwary sentinel. When eventually he succeeded in getting behind him, he stood up and advanced boldly, pretending to be a Turk, for he was able to speak a few words of Turkish. All at once he pounced on the sentry, seized him by the throat and bore him to the ground.
The enemy in the trenches heard the scuffle and opened fire and one man of our patrol was badly hit. Sapieshvili, however, stuck to his prisoner, disarmed him and took him triumphantly off to our camp. The Turks in the trenches numbered about a score, and kept up a heavy fire, so the rest of the patrol withdrew. Before doing so, Private Gordon lifted his wounded comrade (Private Marks) and carried him back to our lines under a rain of bullets from the Turks.
I recommended these men to General Chaytor for their gallantry and coolness under fire.
It was unfortunate that Private Marks' wound proved to be a mortal one. He had only joined the battalion some three days previously, and this was his first encounter with the Turks. He had served in France and other war centres, and had passed through many a fierce fight scathless.
We gave him a very impressive burial the following morning, under the lea of a little hillock, with his face turned towards Jerusalem; the spires of the buildings on the Mount of Olives could actually be seen from the spot where we were standing around his grave.
One of the ten men who, at Helmieh, had wished to join a Labour battalion, but who, on reconsideration, had seen that it was his duty to remain as a fighting soldier, was Private Greyman. He was a man who disapproved of all forms of violence. He hated war and all the brutalities pertaining thereto, yet he carried out his military duties most conscientiously. He happened to be one of a party on duty in the forward trenches on the Day of Atonement, and while repelling some snipers who were attempting to make it unpleasant for us in our camp, poor Greyman met with an instantaneous death, an enemy bullet passing through his head. I heard afterwards that when his widow received the usual War Office notification that he was killed in action, she refused to believe it, for she saw that the date given was the Day of Atonement, a day on which she said no Jew could possibly be fighting; but alas, we had to man the trenches continuously, no matter how sacred or in what reverence any particular day was held by Jew or Gentile.
We were sometimes attached to the 1st and sometimes to the 2nd Australian Light Horse Brigades under Generals Cox and Ryrie; when they moved we were placed under General Meldrum, the Commander of the New Zealand Mounted Rifles Brigade. All were keen soldiers and good and gallant comrades.
While we were under General Ryrie I remember he said to me one day that he would like to come out and inspect my posts.
"Very good, General," I said. "Come out with me any morning you wish."
"When do you start?" he asked.
"Generally at 3 a.m.," I replied.
"That's a d—d good time to sleep," said the General.
Another night some of our patrols scared the Turks badly, and they started a tremendous fusillade with every rifle and gun that could be brought into action. The noise of the battle reverberated down the Mellahah and reached the Auja, where General Ryrie was encamped. Thinking that a serious attack had begun, the General sprang hastily out of bed and planted his naked foot right on to the tail of a huge black scorpion. For a full half-hour afterwards Australia was heard at her best.
When I saw him a couple of days later he philosophically remarked that there was virtue even in a scorpion sting, for it had completely cured him of ever attempting to get out of bed again in the dark, even if all the Turks in the Ottoman Empire were at his door.
General Ryrie, afterwards promoted to Major-General, was appointed to the command of the Australian Mounted Division, and had the K.C.M.G. conferred on him.
Towards the end of August General Allenby reviewed the Anzacs at their Headquarters, some four miles to the north of Jericho. The Mounted Division was formed into three sides of a square, and into this General Allenby galloped, followed by his Staff. It was well for the Commander-in-Chief that he was a good horseman, for the spirited animal which he rode gave one or two very hearty bucks, quite enough to have unseated the majority of our Generals.
Later, the Chief decorated a number of the officers and men who had gallantly won distinctions, and at the end of the ceremony made a good soldierly speech to the Division.
I was invited to be present at the review, and on being presented by General Chaytor to the Commander-in-Chief the latter remarked, "Oh, by the way, Patterson, I fear I cannot form your Jewish Brigade, for I have been notified by the War Office that there are no more Jewish troops coming out." I replied that I thought this information must be inaccurate, for I had just had a letter from the officer commanding the 40th Battalion at Plymouth, informing me that he was about to embark with his battalion for service in Palestine. The Commander-in-Chief seemed somewhat surprised on hearing this, but remarked that he considered his information later and better than mine, so of course there was nothing more to be said.
A few days afterwards, on 30th August, General Chaytor had a conference with all his Brigade and Infantry Commanders, and as he had heard General Allenby saying to me that he considered his information with regard to Jewish reinforcements better than mine, he remarked: "Well, Patterson, your information about the coming of the other Jewish Battalions was better than the Chief's after all, for one of my officers has just come from England, and he tells me that a strong Jewish Battalion came out with him in the same ship and landed in Egypt a couple of days ago."
As I considered it only right to let the Commander-in-Chief know that the information he had received was not accurate, I wrote and told him that I understood that another Jewish Battalion, some 1,400 strong, had already arrived in Egypt.
In reply to this I got a memorandum from the Chief of Staff, Major-General Louis Jean Bols, intimating that in future I was only to address the Commander-in-Chief through the ordinary channels of communication.
It was evident from this that the Chief of Staff was not pleased that the Commander-in-Chief should have any sidelight from me on Jewish affairs. Of course this had long been apparent, for anything I had previously written through the ordinary channels—no matter how important to the welfare of the battalion—had invariably been returned to me with the remark that it was not considered necessary to refer the matter further.
Some months after my interview with the Commander-in-Chief yet another thousand men arrived from England, and altogether there were over five thousand Jewish soldiers serving in the Jewish units in Palestine. The formation of a Jewish Brigade had been the definite policy of the War Office, and an intimation to this effect had been sent to General Allenby. The Commander-in-Chief of the E.E.F. had himself written to me to say that a Jewish Brigade would be formed, yet this promise, which meant so much to the comfort and efficiency of the men and to the prestige of Jews the world over, was never fulfilled; instead, we were pushed about from Brigade to Brigade and from Division to Division in the most heart-breaking manner, with the result that we got all the kicks and none of the traditional halfpence!
In the space of three months we were shunted about like so many cattle trucks and found ourselves, in that brief period, attached to no less than twelve different formations of the British Army!
General Chaytor gave a great lift to the spirit of the battalion when he conferred the Military Medal on Privates Sapieshvili and Gordon for their gallant conduct on the night patrol already mentioned. We had a special parade in "Salt" post redoubt, after Divine Service on the first day of the Jewish New Year (7th September, 1918). Before all their comrades the General recounted their gallant deeds, pinned the coveted ribbons on their breasts, and then ordered the battalion to march past and salute—not himself, but the two men whom he had just decorated. From this moment General Chaytor had with him the heartfelt devotion of every man in the unit. A small thing can win the respect, goodwill, and devotion of a Regiment, but it is not every General who has the knack of gaining it.