THE FINDING OF THE SHIELD OF DAVID
Soon after the Bulgarians had thrown in their lot against us, the Turks,
who up to this time had been husbanding their ammunition, felt, I
presume, that there was now no need to be so sparing in their use of
shells, and they therefore took on a much more aggressive attitude.
Turkish bombardments and trench "strafes" once more became the order of
the day. Not to let the enemy have everything his own way, we ourselves
arranged, late in October, to make a tremendous onslaught on the Turks.
One of their trenches, known as H. 12, occupied a somewhat commanding
position and had been giving us a lot of trouble. It was decided,
therefore, to batter it out of existence.
Sharp to time, at three o'clock on a very "nippy" afternoon, a most
terrific cannonade was opened on the doomed trench. Naval guns, French
guns, British howitzers and field-pieces rained a devastating fire of
high explosives and, as if this were not enough, three huge volcanoes
spurted out at three points of the trench, denoting that some great
mines had been exploded. While the fire lasted, it was terrific, and the
dust and smoke speedily hid all the Turkish trenches, as well as Krithia
and Achi Baba, from our view. The infantry were then launched and the
trench captured with very little loss.
Trench warfare, dull as it is, for those who prefer a fight in the open,
with a good horse under them, is yet not without its moments of
fascination, and I often found myself in the thick of a trench "strafe"
when I really had no business whatever to be in the neighbourhood.
Gye, Rolo and I were returning from one of these trench fights in
mid-October, when we ourselves nearly got "strafed" at Clapham Junction,
a well-known spot behind the firing line on our right centre. Our
mortars, borrowed from the French, had thoroughly annoyed the Turks and
they retaliated by bombarding our trenches with shell-fire. We were
pretty safe so long as we remained under cover, but on the way back to
camp we caught it rather badly and only saved ourselves by our speedy
flight over an exposed piece of ground which we had to cross, where the
shells were falling pretty thickly.
[Illustration: BADGE OF THE ZION MULE CORPS (The Shield of David)]
One of the most annoying things the Turks did was to mount a big naval
gun "somewhere in Asia" not far from Troy--as distances go in Asia. This
fiendish weapon had such a high velocity that the shell arrived on us
before the report of the gun was heard. The sensation of hearing the
shell screaming a few feet over one's head was most unpleasant, and we
all looked for the moment that the big French guns in our lines would
begin to shoot, as things were very disagreeable for us while "Helen"
was in action. This gun was altogether so troublesome that we had
christened it "Helen of Troy."
Fortunately, only about one in four of its shells burst, otherwise we
should have suffered very heavily, because many of them fell in and
around our lines. My men would calmly pick up these unexploded shells
and struggle off with them on their shoulders to adorn the entrance of
their dug-outs! This used to horrify the French gunners, who were close
by and knew the danger of touching such dangerous toys. I am afraid my
Zionists thought me somewhat of a tyrant for abolishing these æsthetic
aids to the beautification of their subterranean homes!
Now and again, just as a reminder of the rigours to come, we were
deluged by a downpour of rain, and then life in the trenches was almost
unbearable, for, owing to the subsoil being clay, all the water ran on
the surface and speedily filled up every trench, dug-out and hollow; and
this discomfort, coupled with mud, filth, too little food and sleep, and
too much shells and bombs, made life in Gallipoli more fit for a dog
than a man.
As the cold weather was coming on, I determined to build a good stone
house for my men, where there would always be a big fire going to keep
them warm and to dry their clothes when they came back wet from the
trenches. As it was not in our zone, I had to get the permission of the
Chief Engineer of the French Army to take some stones from Sedd-el-Bahr
village, because it was only there that building material could be
obtained. While we were pulling down a house and excavating the
foundation, we dug up a slab of marble with a beautiful filigree design
carved round the outer edge of it, and in the centre, strange to say,
was the Shield of David! The stone must have been very, very old, and
how it got there is a mystery. Perhaps it may have been taken from
Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem.
My Zion men were delighted at the find and brought the stone in triumph
to our camp, and it was kept in the new house as a talisman to ward off
the shells. Strange to say, although they fell all round, the building
was never touched nor was any one injured in its vicinity.
Our own dug-out was also greatly improved when the weather became
bitterly cold. We made the fireplace and chimney-stack out of old
kerosene tins, which made a kind of brasier on which we burned charcoal
obtained from the refuse heap at the Field Bakery. Altogether, our
dug-out was considered to be the cosiest one in the whole Peninsula, as
indeed it had every right to be, for was not Claude Rolo, who was our
architect and engineer, one of the cleverest civil engineers that ever
passed through the Polytechnic in Paris?
Our charcoal fire was very useful in many ways; it made very good toast,
for the bread, which up to now had been excellent, began to be sodden
owing to the bakery being in the open and, of course, getting the full
benefit of all the rain that often came down in torrents; and in
addition to the rain the unfortunate bakers were at all times under
shell-fire. Although the bread was not up to the usual standard after
the rains set in, yet in the whole history of war I do not believe that
men and animals have ever been better fed than were the troops, horses
and mules during the whole time we were on the Peninsula. The variety of
food might perhaps have been bettered, but the quality and quantity on
the whole were excellent and reflected the greatest credit on the
organisation of the Army Service Corps; in fact, it was the only
department where one could say all the time--it had done well. The
Ordnance failed at times--failed lamentably in the supply of high
explosives for the guns, but this was through no fault of the ordnance
officer on the spot, who, I know, took every precaution to ask for every
conceivable article months before it was required. Of course, he did
sometimes get the needed articles, and sometimes, when it was on its
way, submarines would sink the ship, or the ordnance people said the
ship was sunk, which amounted to the same thing and covered a multitude
of sins. Those submarines saved many reputations! All the sapper
supplies, however, might just as well have been sunk, as it was
impossible to get the smallest scrap of material, no matter how urgently
required, without the most minute details as to what it was for and all
about it. There was any amount of stuff one wanted in the Field Park,
but when application was made for it the invariable reply was, "It is
earmarked for other purposes."
This policy is all very well in normal times, but does not do for war.
Some men cannot shake off the petty trammels by which they are fettered
in times of peace.
I have no doubt the Turks much enjoyed the use of a considerable amount
of this "earmarked" material, which, if it had been issued to us, would
have greatly enhanced the comfort of man and beast.
I remember on one occasion being in want of a gallon of tar. Now there
was any amount of it in the stores, in fact, one could see it oozing out
of the barrels in all directions. I wanted this tar to put on some ropes
and sacks filled with sand which I was burying in the ground to make my
horse lines and to waterproof some canvas; so I sent a man to the R. E.
Park, with a requisition, hoping to get it back in the course of half an
hour or so; but no: all he brought back was a letter to say: "Please
explain for what purpose you require this gallon of tar." I was so
annoyed that I replied: "To make a bonfire when you get the order of the
boot." But I have some doubt as to whether this message ever reached
its destination, as I had a very diplomatic adjutant.
The officers and men of the corps of Royal Engineers who wore no
red-tabs were simply splendid, and it was with admiration that I often
watched them at all hours of the day and night, digging trenches, making
saps, or putting up barbed wire, right in the very teeth of the
enemy--"Second to None."
It is sometimes of vital importance in war to do the exact contrary to
all peace tradition; but men get into a groove, get narrow, and often
fail to rise to the occasion. I have a good instance of this in mind. A
certain officer refused to issue sandbags from his store when they were
urgently needed. (This did not happen at Helles.) "They cost sixpence
each," he remarked, "and I have got to be careful of them,"--a wise
precaution in peace-time, but utterly unsound in war, because a few
sandbags at sixpence each might save the lives of several soldiers worth
hundreds of pounds, putting it on merely a cash basis.