WE MARCH TO THE JORDAN VALLEY.
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.
[Illustration: THE WAILING WALL AT JERUSALEM
(_See page_ 93)]
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.
[Illustration: THE JERUSALEM-JERICHO ROAD]
[Illustration: NEAR THE WADI KELT
(See page 95)]
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.