Chapter II

Fresh from great triumphs in France, a Man came to Egypt in June, 1917--burly and square-jawed, clear-eyed, vigorous and outspoken; startlingly young in looks for his fifty-six years,--until he removed his cap and you saw his bald, domed brow. The successes at Romani and Magdhaba and Rafa had whiskers. Plans for the taking of Gaza, that stoutly resisting stronghold of the Turk--long since evacuated by all civilians--had fizzled out; there was a hang-up somewhere, things had to be set going again. He moved G.H.Q. from Cairo to Kelat, in Southern Palestine--a huge wire-enclosed area on the grass-covered slopes within sight of the Mediterranean--and took things in hand. Two Rolls-Royce box-cars carried him and his Staff,--three armoured Fords preceded him as Scouts--and two others followed with Wireless and life's necessaries. So he would appear unexpectedly in various quarters, causing confusion it may be, to commanding officers--and huge contentment to the rank and file.

He looked, upon a certain day in July,--on the positions of the forces attacking Gaza--from an observation-point affording room for three.... The day was misty, the Turkish 5.9 inch guns were silent; no warning drone of propellers counselled care as his binoculars swept the enemy trenches towards Beersheba, noting the railway-system for the shifting of big guns; the defence-works--enormously strong, and a tangle of barbed wire--running from Beersheba down to the sea.

He came down, and went through the trenches asking questions: sat on a gun-limber eating bully out of a tin with a jackknife and commended the Engineers and the Egyptian Labour Corps for the pace at which the railway had followed on the heels of our Advance. Then he went away--and the rations increased in quantity, and later certain trucks came up by railway--containing barrels of a malty liquor much welcome to the thirsty throats of British soldier-men....

Later in October, when the Irish Division, and the Indian Cavalry and the entire strength of the Camel Transport Corps, and the London Division which had fought with the assistance of one John Benn Hazel in France and Macedonia--had been added to the army of strange nations now mustered upon the soil of Palestine,--and the capture of Beersheba, with the well-springs of Sheria and the huge Turkish dumps that lay to the rear of them--combined with a bombardment from the hill tops round about her--from the sea to the West of her and the hot sky above her--had brought the gates of Gaza toppling down,--he swung into the camp of the battle-weary 'Fenchurch Streets,' a stalwart stranger in a battered pith helmet, sleeveless shirt, shorts and canvas shoes; and stooped under the door-fly of a tent full of dusty undersized Cockneys; unwashed, unshaven, bone-weary and just lying down to snatch an eyeful of sleep.

"How's things going, Londoners?" he asked with cheery brevity; and a gaunt brown giant of six feet four with a bristling two-inch beard, and a portentously hooked nose, Acting Company Sergeant _pro_ So and so, sick or wounded--I forget which--recognised him, and said in a big bass voice, displaying a mouthful of large white teeth:

"All the better, Sir, because you've come! We fellows said all along you'd be the man for the job!"

"And, by G--" he said in his deep strong voice, "if you go on doing as you've done at Sheria, it won't be long before we carry through.... See you're wounded.... Anything much?" He laid a finger on a naked brown left arm, knotty with muscle, and decorated above the elbow with a bandage of iodine-smeared gauze....

"Nothing, Sir, thank you, but a bit of a flesh-cut. A German officer slashed at me with his sword, as he tried to shoot me left-handed with his revolver."

"Moral," he said, with his big schoolboy's chuckle, "don't try to do two things at once! And a scratch may turn septic, in this fly-cursed country, so don't neglect it, man! ..."

And he passed on, to gladden the heart of the Battalion Commander with discriminating praise, and drop a few curt sentences;--pregnant with great issues--before he went away. Pausing beside the step of his car to ask with the smile that won the men and charmed the women:

"Who's the big tyke overtopping the little Terriers in F. Company's tent? Not an exotic in this climate, or I don't know what it is to command a Jewish Battalion."

"I think," said the C.O., "you refer to Private Hazel, Acting Sergeant to F. Company in place of Langston.... We call Hazel the 'Lightning Change Artist,' because he's always doing somebody's duty, and doing it uncommonly well too! Killed twelve Turks with the bayonet in the scrapping at Sheria.... Sings as he fights--a habit when he's butchering men...."

"Sings, does he? Curious...."

"Sings in Hebrew, the men'll swear to you. Some of them call him 'The Musical Maccabee.' We've two other Jews in the Battalion, both good men, but he's damned good! ... Peculiar in his refusal of stripes and so forth, else he'd have had his Commission long ago. Has the Distinguished Conduct Medal for something he did in France...."

"Glad to hear that. He seems a hefty kind of beggar. Have noticed that he's wounded.... Would you recommend him for the Military Medal when you're sending in the other names?"

The pleased Colonel reddened through dust and sun-tan:

"Certainly, Sir, with pleasure, if you'll permit me! ... But there are a great many names, and I was rather thinking--"

"My dear Sir, never under any circumstances think that there can be too many names!"

"Thank you, Sir. With regard to Acting Sergeant Hazel.... He has been very keen on leave for Alex., since Sheria--most unusual thing with a man of that sort to risk the loss of a scrap. Some family affair perhaps. Has big interests in Palestine--chiefly wine and olives and so forth. Kind of a millionaire, I am told, in his way...."

"I don't care a Syrian curse about the millionaire! but I'm ready to stretch a point to oblige the man who spits twelve Turks--and sings while he's doing it! He's got a knock from a German, too--and might have put in for a Red Cross bag--a ride in the White train--and a cane chair on the lawn at Montana on the strength of it! So send him down to railhead at Gamli with the wounded.... He can put in three weeks at the General Hospital at Alex, and attend to his business there...."

"Very good, Sir! But it occurs to me that an R.F.C. two-seater scouting-plane in difficulties came down in our lines about an hour ago,--Wing Major Essenian Pasha on board--an Egyptian officer from the Ismailia Air Station--"

"I know Essenian Pasha!" The tone was enigmatical. "Copt or Moslem,--nobody seems certain. Some people seem to think it's a case of being all things to all men. Though,--for my own part--if I had to place him--I'd rank him with the Advanced or Super-Jews. But the man's an incomparable scout, and flies like one of the Sons of Eblis.... Some of his reports have been damned useful! We sent for him to do some special reconnaissance over the enemy's rearguard in the hills. Have Djemal's sharpshooters potted the Pasha? Hope he'd made his observations first!"

"The Pasha's all right, Sir, but his observer was shot dead. Flying-Lieutenant Usborn--there was a regular ding-dong battle over Hebron with some Turkish fighting-planes.... And Essenian Pasha would like us to bury Lieutenant Usborn--and supply an observer to replace him for the home-flight to Ismailia!"

"Well, can you?"

"It appears, Sir, that the Pasha knows Hazel. They foregathered at Salonika a month or so ago. And there being a lot of dysentery among the men of the Pasha's Flying Squadron--and Hazel having dabbled in aviation--five-guinea flutters at Hendon, I suppose!--the Pasha took him on several reconnaissance-flights. By the way, Sir, he has brought in a bit of intelligence.... The Sherif of Mecca's tribesmen are at Diariyeh--among the hills to the N.E. with the Emir Feisal and a host of Bedwân cavalry. And they're waging guerilla warfare against the enemy's rearguards and flanks."

"Good for the Sherif Husain!" The keen blue eyes sparkled. "And news worth having. We shall be able to shift the --th Division outposts a good bit more to the N.E. Where's the Pasha? _Marhabâ_, Essenian Pasha!"

"_Marhabtain Gananâr Saiyid!_" came the quick response to the greeting, as he turned to take the report from the dark hand of the Egyptian Flying Officer, looking back a moment later to say to the Colonel, with his parting handshake: "Well, so-long, Colonel! Remember, your next objective is Huj, the terminus of the Turkish branch-rail from Deir Sineid. The Desert Mounted Corps--3 Cavalry Divisions--pushed for there yesterday to cut off the garrison retreating from Gaza. So-and-so with such-and-such another force of mounted troops is working round by sea--to engage the enemy rear-guard at Beit Hannu. Dyemal's Eighth Army Corps on our right flankguard have rolled back towards Hebron." (Fifteen miles north-east from Beersheba, among the Judæan Hills.) "The only Turks now holding their ground are those facing the 53rd Division at Muweileh. They may not have heard of the fall of Gaza--as we have the cavalry between them and the rest of their Army--and Blank smashed the Gaza Wireless installation when he bombed their big mosque! You'll find the road to Huj nicely marked out with Turkish canteens, tin gas-mask-cases, stretchers and trenching-tools, and the terrain fairly continuous in its drop,--about forty feet to the mile.... Don't contemplate much trouble for you from well-posted Austrian batteries. The Warwicks and Worcesters and Australians have accounted for 'em all!"

And as the baking Earth rolled up, blotting out the huge red-hot sun; and the short twilight heralded the sudden swoop of Night on Syria, the Rolls-Royce box-cars carrying the Chief and his Staff moved smoothly on, following the four armoured scouters, and the other Fords swung out and dashed after them.... And the dust of Philistia--watered with the blood of brave men since Wars began on this sad earth--how many times? rolled up and blotted out the moving specks, on the safety of one of which hung the hopes of Christendom.