THE RETREAT
Bewildered by this sudden turn of events, we hurriedly hooked the horses in
again to guns and ammunition-waggons, slung on the personal equipment
recently discarded--though our water-bottles were now, alas, empty--and
quickly vacated the nullah.
Where we were going to nobody save those in command knew; most of us were
too weary to care. Our deadened senses were hardly capable of realising
that the relieving Turks had somewhere broken through the cordon; we had to
clear out and, in spite of what the firing had told us at sundown, we had
failed to take Gaza. That much was now obvious; victorious troops do not as
a rule retreat, especially at our present pace.
Hence we had no option but to keep moving as fast as we could until we were
ordered to stop.
A mile or two out of the nullah we encountered the rest of the brigade, and
gradually a troop from one unit or a squadron from another joined the
column. By now it was pitch dark, but as far as one could judge we were
taking a different route from that by which we had come. Our present
direction was due west, and had we persisted in following it this route
would have led us straight into the Turkish lines at Gaza.
The reason, which I give with some reserve, was learnt later. A German
officer speaking perfect English and dressed in the uniform of a British
staff-officer, rode up to the head of the column and announced that he had
been sent by Headquarters as a guide. Thereupon the column followed this
audacious gentleman's leadership for some miles, until a pukka British
officer, who had providentially spent some years surveying this very
country, asked his commander whether he knew that we were making a bee-line
for the Turkish defences. A startled ejaculation burst from the general,
who turned to the guide to ask him if he was quite sure of the way.
But he asked in vain, for the man had disappeared!
Whether this explanation be true or no, there are in connection therewith
two somewhat significant points: one was that some days later a German,
masquerading as a British staff-officer, was undoubtedly captured, and paid
the customary penalty; the other was that after we had trekked for perhaps
a couple of hours in a westerly direction, we turned sharply to the left
and continued almost due south, at right angles to our previous route.
We had not proceeded far this way when we came across the remainder of the
mounted divisions, and fell in beside them, a heterogeneous mass. Troopers
of the Light Horse were riding with gunners from the artillery; cacolet
camels, whose native drivers had their heads shrouded in blankets, trudged
beside ambulance carts; here and there a man who had lost his horse
stumbled wearily along, first in one column then in another; guns and
ammunition-limbers were mingled with cable-waggons; and all followed
blindly man or waggon in front of them. The army slept as it marched. Men
slid gradually down into the saddle, with bowed heads, until the tired
horses stumbled and jerked them again into a hazy consciousness for a few
yards. Then the heads drooped once more, the nerveless hands loosed the
reins, and bodies swayed unevenly back and forth. Here and there a man,
utterly overcome by sleep, lurched from his saddle, pitched headlong and
lay where he had fallen until one more wakeful picked him up and set him on
his waiting horse again or in an ambulance. Some tied themselves on
gun-limbers and slept there, while their riderless horses gregariously
followed the column.
A slumbering, ghostly army, moving like automata. What sounds there were
seemed to come from a great distance: the soft pad-pad of the camels, the
creaking of the cacolets swaying high and low and the moans of the tortured
men in them, the uneven beat of hoofs, and mingled with every sound was
the monotonous crunching of waggon-wheels on the rough ground.
It was terribly difficult work for the drivers in the engineers and
artillery, for the country now was broken by great boulders, dust rose in
clouds obscuring the vision, and no semblance of a road was to be found.
The lead-drivers had to keep a sharp look-out lest they ran down somnolent
stragglers wandering across their path, and if the column halted suddenly
they had to throw off quickly to one side to avoid running into the waggon
immediately in front and telescoping the whole team. This was a
particularly onerous task, for the dust made it impossible to see more than
a yard or two ahead. The wheel-drivers were in no better case and in
addition they had the waggon-pole to look after, and the centre-drivers
were betwixt the devil and the deep sea.
Besides the rough country there were deep, narrow nullahs to be crossed,
some of them with sides as steep as the roof of a house. Then the
wheel-drivers reined in till the pole-bars almost lifted the weary horses
from the ground, and those in front picked a perilous way step by step over
the rocky surface of the incline.
Nearing the floor of the nullah the drivers loosed the reins and flogged
their horses into some semblance of a gallop in order to gain enough
impetus to carry them up the ascent on the other side. One of these nullahs
was a fearsome place: half-way down the descent the path had a twist in it
and at the angle of the turn was a gigantic boulder almost blocking the
way. In the inky darkness it was hideously difficult to get down without
overturning the vehicles. The very path itself was a mere narrow cleft in
the side of the nullah, and the lead horses, thrown out of draught to allow
those in the wheel to bring their waggon round the boulder, had to scramble
up the rocky slope again until they were almost level with the waggon
itself. Many encompassed the journey in safety, but soon the inevitable
happened: a limber failed to clear the boulder. As the horses were making
the turn the off-wheel crunched against the side, lifted, hung poised for a
second, then, as the other wheel continued to move, swung farther over, and
the waggon overturned with a sickening crash, dragging men and horses to
the earth in inextricable confusion. The way was completely blocked, and
meanwhile those behind, ignorant of what had passed, were preparing to make
the descent!
A terrible débâcle was prevented by the quick presence of mind of one who
scrambled to the lip of the nullah and called a halt. How the waggon was
righted and set on its way again nobody could say clearly. Men tugged at
drag-ropes and strained at the wheels, it seemed for hours. But the task
was at last done--horses and men were providentially unhurt. One of the
drivers, who had been pinned between his two horses by the fall, had fallen
asleep while waiting to be extricated, and lay peacefully oblivious to the
pother around him.
When all was clear and the waggon once more sent on its way, the remainder
started to come down, the dangerous turn now being lighted by a
hurricane-lamp, held by an officer mounted on a boulder. By the disastrous
delay, however, the column was riven into two parts and there was grave
danger of one losing touch with the other. For some miles the pace of those
in the rear was accelerated in the hope of catching up, but the country was
so rough that real speed was impossible.
Moreover, during the long wait men had fallen into a stupor of sleep so
profound that even the incessant jogging failed to rouse them. Occasionally
we encountered a level stretch of ground, and the horses were urged into a
trot which set the drooping figures on them bobbing in their saddles like
marionettes on strings. For some seconds the absurd motion continued until
the riders, becoming unbalanced, instinctively clutched the pommel of their
saddles to save themselves or dug their heels into their horses' sides.
Whereupon the startled animals broke into a shambling canter for a few
yards till for very weariness they dropped again into a walk. So it went on
for hours--walk march--trot--halt, till the gaps were closed; then: walk
march--trot--halt again. Even the wheels beat out the words with damnable
iteration and made of them a maddening refrain. We seemed to be marching
to the ends of the earth. During a brief moment of wakefulness I found
myself wondering, in a detached kind of way, if we should ever stop. It did
not appear to matter much anyway, for we could only go on till we dropped,
and then perhaps should be able to sleep.
At last we caught up with a long line of camels softly plodding along,
which seemed to be at the rear of the leading column. Shortly afterwards we
reached the Wadi Ghuzzee and attempted the crossing, which was the worst we
had yet encountered by reason of its precipitous nature. Indeed, seen
afterwards by daylight, it was difficult to understand how the horses
managed even to keep their feet, so steep was the path.
At the foot of the farther slope, lying in the bed of the wadi, was an
overturned ammunition-waggon by the side of which was a dead horse--a
silent warning of the danger of the ascent. There was no room here for a
final gallop to help the waggons up the hill; it was simply sheer, steady
tugging all the way. If the strain were relaxed for a moment the waggons
began to slide down the slope, and the gunners had hurriedly to scotch the
wheels till the horses were ready to take hold and pull again. When the
gallant brutes did eventually reach the top they were shaking in every limb
as if with ague.
But the worst was now over. Some time or other we must have reached our
destination; I cannot remember. I have the vaguest recollection of placing
a nosebag for a pillow, but that is all; the rest of that night is lost in
deep oblivion.
It was a curious sight that presented itself next morning. Men were lying
just where they had fallen. Some were stretched straight out with faces
upturned to the sky; others huddled up in strange attitudes; others again
lay with their heads pillowed on their saddles; and all had utter weariness
stamped in every line of their bodies. Nearly all the horses were lying
down, a sure indication of extreme fatigue, for as a rule they slept
standing.
One by one the men stirred, stretched, and looked dazedly about them.
Presently, when consciousness returned, we began to remember that it was
twenty-four hours since we had eaten. Haversacks were searched for what
remained of the bully-beef and biscuits, which were very hard to get down
without water, and of that we had none.
In this respect the horses were in worse plight than we. It was forty hours
since they had been watered. In no country, save Mesopotamia, did the
exigencies of the campaign lie so heavily upon our four-legged comrades as
in Egypt and Palestine. But for the fact that all animals in the army are
better treated and looked after than any in the world, it would have fared
very hardly with them. You should have seen some of the captured Turkish
horses! It made us heartsick to look at them, so emaciated were they from
ill-usage and neglect. The Eastern has no idea of kindness to animals; it
was a common practice for them to ride horses with open sores as big as the
hand on the withers and elsewhere, day in and day out, with no thought of
giving the tortured creatures treatment for their ills.
It is a poor day for the British soldier when he cannot find some little
dainty for his horse, or "win" an extra handful of grain when the
quartermaster-sergeant is looking the other way; his first thought is
always for his horse.
When we had snatched a hurried meal we set out to look for water. The only
known wells were at Deir el Belah, whither we proceeded. We had apparently
crossed the wadi some distance to the east, for we went seven miles or
thereabouts before we reached the wells, which were, however, only for the
use of the men. The horses were watered at a large lagoon, bordered with
tall reeds, considerably nearer the sea, which lagoon I shall remember.
There were no troughs, and we had to ride the horses some yards into the
water to clear the reeds before they could drink. The bed was covered to
the depth of nearly a yard with black sticky mud, and my horse, plunging
forward to get at the water, stepped into a steep hole where the mud was of
Stygian blackness and incomparable stickiness, and we investigated these
qualities together. As I was leading another horse as well, my position was
exceedingly uncomfortable, for in the confusion a trace slipped over my
head and was caught by the back of my helmet, pinning me under the water.
Nor were the most desperate efforts to free myself of any avail, for the
horse was struggling like a mad thing to get his--or rather, her--head
above the surface.
I had reached the stage where one's hectic past is supposed to pass in
mournful panorama across the mental vision, when the chin-strap of my
helmet broke and the trace was released, jerking my head above the surface
of the water with a force that nearly dislocated my neck. The pent-up
wrath--and mud--inside me came out in a yell which almost drowned the
shouts of laughter from the bank, and covered with black slime from head to
foot I scrambled out.
This personal reminiscence is here obtruded because the incident made the
rest of the day a blank.
Orders to harness up and go out again came almost immediately the watering
was finished. We went somewhere and came back again towards nightfall, but
what happened in the interim I know not. At every halt I was engaged in
scraping the mud off myself with a jack-knife, an indifferently successful
implement for the purpose. An officer gave me half a pailful of water
wherewith to wash myself, but as my entire wardrobe was at the moment
modestly hiding under a thick layer of mud, his kindly act did not help
very much. However, as the troops bellowed with joy every time they looked
at my piebald countenance, somebody was pleased, which was all to the good.
That lagoon loomed very large on our horizon for some days. We camped near
it on our return and, hoping to make up some arrears of sleep, settled down
very early. The plan went awry, however. We had neighbours so anxious to
make our acquaintance that they called--nay, thrust themselves upon us--at
sundown. Mosquitoes! They came in clouds and very nearly caused a panic.
This was a new terror. We had suffered most of the plagues of Egypt--which
did not include mosquitoes; those of Palestine were beginning their
operations already.
Even the tiniest creature on the earth has its function in life, we are
told, but for the life of me I cannot see the use of the mosquito, which
may sound uncharitable. But when, after lying down for a rest that you know
is well-earned, thousands of these pernicious insects fasten on you and
bite you and raise large lumps on your person, hatred, malice, and all
uncharitableness are the only emotions you are capable of feeling. And
these mosquitoes from the lagoon were of surpassing virulence. Presumably
they had been living on a diet of lean and hungry Bedouin for many months
and had found no sustenance therein; for they made of our well-nourished
bodies a feast of Lucullus and gorged themselves to repletion. A doctor
once told me that the female mosquito hums but does not bite, while the
male bites but does not hum. That is just the kind of immoral trick a
mosquito would practise. While the female is creating a diversion--and a
disturbance--by her vocal camouflage, the other criminal silently puts in
his deadly work. Having stuffed himself till he can hold no more he goes
into a corner, well out of reach, and pretends to weep over his evil deeds.
This is merely Pecksniffian; indigestion is his trouble.
Another neighbour we had was the frog--several thousands of him--and his
voice was out of all proportion to his size. Just after sundown the Chief
Frog made a loud noise like stones rattling in a can, apparently calling
the tribe to attention. For a moment there was deep silence. Then the
chorus burst forth, rose to a hideous crescendo and descended to a
monotonous rattle; and this was the motif of the song. Frogs must have very
powerful lungs, for these never seemed to draw breath; theirs was, as it
were, a continuous performance and a most infernal din withal. We became
accustomed if not reconciled to the nightly chorus during the three weeks
we camped by the lagoon, and after that first night the row failed to
disturb our rest, which is more than can be said of the mosquitoes.
Familiarity with them breeds anything but contempt; it is generally
malaria.
Although the mounted divisions had been obliged to retreat the battle was
by no means over. During the night of the 26th Turkish reinforcements, now
unopposed, poured into Gaza from all over the country. Next day the Turks
counter-attacked Ali Muntar in great strength, and though our infantry, who
had suffered and were suffering great privations from want of water, put up
a magnificent resistance, they were at length driven from the positions
gained at such heavy cost. The Turks followed up this success by capturing
a ridge farther east, from which they could shell our positions at Mansura
practically with impunity, and could, moreover, prevent supplies and water
from reaching the beleaguered garrison.
The daring little band of Anzacs who had penetrated into Gaza were also cut
off and captured, though the Turks failed to retake their lost guns, which
were proudly brought in by the remnants of the brigade. The situation now
looked extremely serious, for the Turks, growing bolder, launched a most
determined attack on Mansura, and in spite of numerous counter-attacks
rapidly made the ridge untenable. The "Cameliers" again sacrificed
themselves in a gallant effort to raise the siege and played sad havoc with
the Turkish cavalry. Temporarily the advance was held, but as death from
starvation and thirst was the only alternative to ultimate capture by the
Turks, the garrison made good their escape in the second night of the
battle, and the following day all our troops were on the western bank of
the wadi.
I wish it were possible to speak here of some of the countless acts of
gallantry and self-sacrifice performed by our infantry during this three
days' battle. Most of these, however, reached me at second-hand, and it is
as well to write mainly of things seen.
The story of one may perhaps be told as being typical of many, and this
story I know to be true. A man taking part in the first assault on Ali
Muntar was shot through both legs, and for many hours lay exposed to the
heat of the sun. Succour could not reach him and his sufferings from thirst
and the pain of his wounds can faintly be imagined. His constant and
semi-delirious cries for water were heard by a comrade lying, shot through
the lungs, some thirty yards away. This man had still a little water left
in his water-bottle, and, in spite of his own intolerable agony, dragged
himself painfully across the intervening space. The exertion killed him; he
died in the act of raising the bottle to the lips of his comrade.