<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
<center>THE SUEZ CAMPAIGN</center>
<p>I have already spoken of the so-called "requisitioning" that
took place among our people while I was working at Saffêd.
This, of course, really amounted to wholesale pillage. The hand of
the Turkish looters had fallen particularly heavy on carts and
draught animals. As the Arabs know little or nothing of carting,
hauling, or the management of horses and mules, the Turks, simply
enough, had "requisitioned" many of the owners—middle-aged or
elderly men—and forced them to go south to help along with
the tremendous preparations that were being made for the attack on
Suez. Among these were a number of men from our village. In the
course of time their families began to get the most harrowing
messages from them. They were absolutely destitute, no wages being
paid them by the Turks; their clothes were dropping off them in
rags; many were sick. After much excited planning, it was decided
to send another man and myself down south on a sort of relief
expedition, with a substantial sum of money that had been raised
with great difficulty by our people. Through the influence of my
brother at the Agricultural Experiment Station, I got permission
from the <i>mouchtar</i> to leave Zicron-Jacob, and about the
middle of January, 1915, I set out for Jerusalem.</p>
<p>To Western minds, the idea of the Holy City serving as a base
for modern military operations must be full of incongruities. And,
as a matter of fact, it <i>was</i> an amazing sight to see the
streets packed with khaki-clad soldiers and hear the brooding
silence of ancient walls shattered by the crash of steel-shod army
boots. Here, for the first time, I saw the German
officers—quantities of them. Strangely out of place they
looked, with their pink-and-whiteness that no amount of hot
sunshine could quite burn off. They wore the regular German
officer's uniform, except that the <i>Pickelhaube</i> was replaced
by a khaki sun-helmet. I was struck by the youthfulness of them;
many were nothing but boys, and there were weak, dissolute faces in
plenty—a fact that was later explained when I heard that
Palestine had been the dumping-ground for young men of high family
whose parents were anxious to have them as far removed as possible
from the danger zone. Fast's Hotel was the great meeting-place in
Jerusalem for these young bloods. Every evening thirty or forty
would foregather there to drink and talk women and strategy. I well
remember the evening when one of them—a slender young
Prussian with no back to his head, braceleted and
monocled—rose and announced, in the decisive tones that go
with a certain stage of intoxication: "What we ought to do is to
hand over the organization of this campaign to Thomas Cook &
Sons!"</p>
<p>However, the German officers were by no means all incompetents.
They realized (I soon found out) that they had little hope of
bringing a big army through the Egyptian desert and making a
successful campaign there. Their object was to immobilize a great
force of British troops around the Canal, to keep the Mohammedan
population in Palestine impressed with Turkish power, and to stir
up religious unrest among the natives in Egypt. It must be admitted
that in the first two of these purposes they have been
successful.</p>
<p>The Turks were less far-sighted. They believed firmly that they
were going to sweep the English off the face of the earth and enter
Cairo in triumph, and preparations for the march on Suez went on
with feverish enthusiasm. The ideas of the common soldiers on this
subject were amusing. Some of them declared that the Canal was to
be filled up by the sandbags which had been prepared in great
quantities. Others held that thousands of camels would be kept
without water for many days preceding the attack; then the thirsty
animals, when released, would rush into the Canal in such numbers
that the troops could march to victory over the packed masses of
drowned bodies.</p>
<p>The army operating against Suez numbered about one hundred and
fifty thousand men. Of these about twenty thousand were Anatolian
Turks—trained soldiers, splendid fighting material, as was
shown by their resistance at the Dardanelles. The rest were
Palestinian Arabs, and very inferior troops they were. The Arab as
a soldier is at once stupid and cunning: fierce when victory is on
his side, but unreliable when things go against him. In command of
the expedition was the famous Djemal Pasha, a Young Turk general of
tremendous energy, but possessing small ability to see beyond
details to the big, broad concepts of strategy. Although a great
friend of Enver Pasha, he looked with disfavor on the German
officers and, in particular, on Bach Pasha, the German Governor of
Jerusalem, with whom he had serious disagreements. This dislike of
the Germans was reflected among the lesser Turkish officers. Many
of these, after long years of service, found themselves
subordinated to young foreigners, who, in addition to arbitrary
promotion, received much higher salaries than the Turks. What is
more, they were paid in clinking gold, whereas the Turks, when paid
at all, got paper currency.</p>
<p>Beersheba, a prosperous town of the ancient province of Idumea,
was the southern base of operations for the advance on Suez. Some
of our villagers had been sent to this district, and, in searching
for them, I had the opportunity of seeing at least the taking-off
place of the expedition. Beyond this point no Jew or Christian was
allowed to pass, with the exception of the physicians, all of whom
were non-Mohammedans who had been forced into the army.</p>
<p>Beersheba was swarming with troops. They filled the town and
overflowed on to the sands outside, where a great tent-city grew
up. And everywhere that the Turkish soldiers went, disorganization
and inefficiency followed them. From all over the country the
finest camels had been "requisitioned" and sent down to Beersheba
until, at the time I was there, thousands and thousands of them
were collected in the neighborhood. Through the laziness and
stupidity of the Turkish commissariat officers, which no amount of
German efficiency could counteract, no adequate provision was made
for feeding them, and incredible numbers succumbed to starvation
and neglect. Their great carcasses dotted the sand in all
directions; it was only the wonderful antiseptic power of the
Eastern sun that held pestilence in check.</p>
<p>The soldiers themselves suffered much hardship. The crowding in
the tents was unspeakable; the water-supply was almost as
inadequate as the medical service, which consisted chiefly of
volunteer Red Crescent societies—among them a unit of twenty
German nurses sent by the American College at Beirut. Medical
supplies, such as they were, had been taken from the different
mission hospitals and pharmacies of Palestine—these
"requisitions" being made by officers who knew nothing of medical
requirements and simply scooped together everything in sight. As a
result, one of the army physicians told me that in Beersheba he had
opened some medical chests consigned to him and found, to his
horror, that they were full of microscopes and gynecological
instruments—for the care of wounded soldiers in the
desert!</p>
<p>Visits of British aeroplanes to Beersheba were common
occurrences. Long before the machine itself could be seen, its
whanging, resonant hum would come floating out of the blazing sky,
seemingly from everywhere at once. Soldiers rushed from their
tents, squinting up into the heavens until the speck was
discovered, swimming slowly through the air; then followed
wholesale firing at an impossible range until the officers forbade
it. True to the policy of avoiding all unnecessary harm to the
natives, these British aviators never dropped bombs on the town,
but—what was more dangerous from the Turkish point of
view—they would unload packages of pamphlets, printed in
Arabic, informing the natives that they were being deceived; that
the Allies were their only true friends; that the Germans were
merely making use of them to further their own schemes, etc. These
cleverly worded little tracts came showering down out of the sky,
and at first they were eagerly picked up. The Turkish commanders,
however, soon announced that any one found carrying them would pay
the death penalty. After that, when the little bundles dropped near
them, the natives would, run as if from high explosive bombs.</p>
<p>All things considered, it is wonderful that the Turkish
demonstration against the Canal came as near to fulfillment as it
did. Twenty thousand soldiers actually crossed the desert in six
days on scant rations, and with them they took two big guns, which
they dragged by hand when the mules dropped from thirst and
exhaustion. They also carried pontoons to be used in crossing the
Canal. Guns and pontoons are now at rest in the Museum at
Cairo.</p>
<p>Just what took place in the attack is known to very few. The
English have not seen fit to make public the details, and there was
little to be got from the demoralized soldiers who returned to
Beersheba. Piece by piece, however, I gathered that the attacking
party had come up to the Canal at dawn. Finding everything quiet,
they set about getting across, and had even launched a pontoon,
when the British, who were lying in wait, opened a terrific fire
from the farther bank, backed by armored locomotives and
aeroplanes. "It was as if the gates of Jehannum were opened and its
fires turned loose upon us," one soldier told me.</p>
<p>The Turks succeeded in getting their guns into action for a very
short while. One of the men-of-war in the Canal was hit; several
houses in Ismaïlia suffered damage; but the invaders were soon
driven away in confusion, leaving perhaps two thousand prisoners in
the hands of the English. If the latter had chosen to do so, they
could have annihilated the Turkish forces then and there. The
ticklish state of mind of the Mohammedan population in Egypt,
however, has led them to adopt a policy of leniency and of keeping
to the defensive, which subsequent developments have more than
justified. It is characteristic of England's faculty for holding
her colonies that batteries manned by Egyptians did the finest work
in defense of the Canal.</p>
<p>The reaction in Palestine after the defeat at Suez was
tremendous. Just before the attack, Djemal Pasha had sent out a
telegram announcing the overwhelming defeat of the British
vanguard, which had caused wild enthusiasm. Another later telegram
proclaimed that the Canal had been reached, British men-of-war
sunk, the Englishmen routed—with a loss to the Turks of five
men and two camels, "which were afterwards recovered." "But," added
the telegram, "a terrible sand-storm having arisen, the glorious
army takes it as the wish of Allah not to continue the attack, and
has therefore withdrawn in triumph."</p>
<p>These reports hoodwinked the ignorant natives for a little
while, but when the stream of haggard soldiers, wounded and
exhausted, began pouring back from the south, they guessed what had
happened, and a fierce revulsion against the Germano-Turkish
régime set in. A few weeks before the advance on Suez, I was
in Jaffa, where the enthusiasm and excitement had been at
fever-pitch. Parades and celebrations of all kinds in anticipation
of the triumphal march into Egypt were taking place, and one day a
camel, a dog, and a bull, decorated respectively with the flags of
Russia, France, and England, were driven through the streets. The
poor animals were horribly maltreated by the natives, who rained
blows and flung filth upon them by way of giving concrete
expression to their contempt for the Allies. Mr. Glazebrook, the
American Consul at Jerusalem, happened to be with me in Jaffa that
day; and never shall I forget the expression of pain and disgust on
his face as he watched this melancholy little procession of
scapegoats hurrying along the street.</p>
<p>Now, however, all was changed. The Arabs, who take defeat badly,
turned against the authorities who had got them into such trouble.
Rumors circulated that Djemal Pasha had been bought by the English
and that the defeat at Suez had been planned by him, and persons
keeping an ear close to the ground began to hear mutterings of a
general massacre of Germans. In fact, things came within an ace of
a bloody outbreak. I knew some Germans in Jaffa and Haifa who
firmly believed that it was all over with them. In the defeated
army itself the Turkish officers gave vent to their hatred of the
Germans. Three German officers were shot by their Turkish comrades
during the retreat, and a fourth committed suicide. However, Djemal
Pasha succeeded in keeping order by means of stern repressive
methods and by the fear roused by his large body-guard of faithful
Anatolians.</p>
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<p>We felt sure that the Turkish defeat would put a damper on the
arrogance of the soldiery. But even the Mohammedan population were
hoping that the Allies would push their victory and land troops in
Syria and Palestine; for though they hated the infidel, they loved
the Turk not at all, and the country was exhausted and the blockade
of the Mediterranean by the Allies prevented the import and export
of articles. The oranges were rotting on the trees because the
annual Liverpool market was closed to Palestine, and other crops
were in similar case. The country was short, too, of petroleum,
sugar, rice, and other supplies, and even of matches. We had to go
back to old customs and use flint and steel for fire, and we seldom
used our lamps. Money was scarce, too, and, Turkey having declared
a moratorium, cash was often unobtainable even by those who had
money in the banks, and much distress ensued.</p>
<p>As the defeated army was pouring in from the south, I decided to
leave Beersheba and go home. The roads and the fields were covered
with dead camels and horses and mules. Hundreds of soldiers were
straggling in disorder, many of them on leave but many deserting.
Soon after the defeat at the Canal several thousand soldiers
deserted, but an amnesty was declared and they returned to their
regiments.</p>
<p>When I arrived at Jerusalem I found the city filled with
soldiers. Djemal Pasha had just returned from the desert, and his
quarters were guarded by a battery of two field guns. Nobody knew
what to expect; some thought that the country would have a little
more freedom now that the soldiery had lost its braggadocio, while
others expected the lawlessness that attends disorganization. I
went to see Consul Glazebrook. He is a true American, a Southerner,
formerly a professor of theology at Princeton. He was most earnest
and devoted in behalf of the American citizens that came under his
care, rendering at Jerusalem the same sort of service that
Ambassador Morgenthau has rendered at Constantinople. He was
practically the only man who stood up for the poor, defenseless
people of the city. He received me kindly, and I told him what I
knew of conditions in the country, what I had heard among the
Arabs, and of my own fears and apprehensions. He was visibly
impressed and he advised me to see Captain Decker, of the U.S.S.
Tennessee, who was then in Jaffa, promising to write himself to the
captain of my proposed visit.</p>
<p>I went to Jaffa the same day and after two days' delay succeeded
in seeing Captain Decker, with the further help of Mr. Glazebrook,
who took me with him. The police interfered and tried to keep me
from going aboard the ship, but after long discussions I was
permitted to take my place in the launch that the captain had sent
for the consul.</p>
<p>Captain Decker was interested in what I had to say, and at his
request I dictated my story to his stenographer. What became of my
report I do not know,—whether it was transmitted to the
Department of State or whether Captain Decker communicated with
Ambassador Morgenthau,—but at all events we soon began to see
certain reforms inaugurated in parts of the country, and these
reforms could have been effected only through pressure from
Constantinople. The presence of the two American cruisers in the
Mediterranean waters has without any doubt been instrumental in the
saving of many lives.</p>
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