<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Bir Salem—An Exciting Race.</span></div>
<p>Early in May we were transferred from Rafa to
Bir Salem. The advance party moved on the
6th, and on the 10th the Battalion Headquarters followed,
and took over duties from the 7th Indian Infantry
Brigade, which was then sent to Haifa.</p>
<p>We were replaced at Rafa by the 40th (Jewish) Battalion
Royal Fusiliers, which was now composed mainly
of the Palestinian youths recruited by Major James de
Rothschild and Lieutenant Lipsey. For a time they
were commanded by Lieut.-Colonel F. D. Samuel
D.S.O., but he left for England while the battalion was
doing garrison duty at Haifa.</p>
<p>The command then fell to Colonel Scott, a most conscientious
officer, and a man in full sympathy with
Zionist aspirations. While at Rafa he had a most
anxious time owing to the unwise action of the military
authorities. The men of the 40th Battalion had enlisted
for service in Palestine only, but the local Staff ignored
this definite contract and ordered part of the battalion to
Cyprus. As this was a breach of their terms of enlistment,
the men refused to go, and in the end the officials
had to climb down and cancel all their unjust orders.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</SPAN></span>
Why did the Staff, when they knew all about this special
contract for service in Palestine only, drive this excellent
battalion almost to the verge of mutiny? There were
many other battalions available for Cyprus.</p>
<p>Happily, Colonel Scott brought his men safely
through the rough time at Rafa, and he served on with
them until December, 1919, when the 40th was merged
in the 38th Battalion.</p>
<p>All through the early days of May I saw chalked up
everywhere—on the Railway Station, signal boxes,
workshops, on the engines, trucks, and carriages—the
mystic words, "Remember the 11th May."</p>
<p>This was, of course, the date on which all soldiers,
rightly or wrongly, believed themselves entitled to their
release, because it was six months after the Armistice
granted to the Germans on November 11th, 1918.</p>
<p>I heard it rumoured that there was a conspiracy on
foot in the E.E.F. for a general mutiny on that day, and
found that men from other units had endeavoured to
seduce my battalion from its duty.</p>
<p>On learning this, I at once determined to nip the
attempt in the bud, and so made it my business to speak
to every man in the battalion, and on every isolated post,
impressing upon them the responsibility which rested on
their shoulders as Jews, and urging them on no account
to be led away by the hot-heads in other units.</p>
<p>I told them that British troops could perhaps afford to
mutiny, but Jewish troops, while serving England,
never.</p>
<p>I am proud to be able to state that not a man of my
battalion failed on the 11th May, but just "carried on"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</SPAN></span>
as usual. Mutinies took place elsewhere, and thousands
of British soldiers at Kantara ran riot and had the place
in a blaze. However, the matter was hushed up, concessions
were made, the mutineers were not punished,
so far as I know, and things gradually became normal
again.</p>
<p>Our effective strength when we left Rafa was 15
officers and 1,300 other ranks. Our duties at Bir Salem,
Ludd, and Ramleh were exceptionally heavy, the men
being very often on duty three nights in a week, and
when they were off guard duties they were immediately
put on to prisoner of war escorts, etc., as there was a
very large Turkish and German Prisoners of War Camp
at Ludd.</p>
<p>At Bir Salem we were attached to the 3rd (Lahore)
Division, under the command of General Hoskin. It is
a great pleasure to me to be able to state here that this
officer and his Staff gave us a very hearty and cordial
welcome to Bir Salem, and did everything possible for
our comfort and welfare.</p>
<p>I look upon General Hoskin with his Staff as the
one bright luminary amidst the gloomy British constellations
among whom we were continually revolving!
What an immense difference it makes to the feelings of
a regiment or a battalion when it is known that the Staff
are out to help and assist (as is their proper function),
instead of to crab and block everything; in the former
case one is ready to work the skin off one's bones, while
in the latter everybody's back is up, with the result that
co-ordination and happy working is impossible.</p>
<p>This was a happy time for the young lions of Judah,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</SPAN></span>
for the G.O.C. and his staff were out to help and assist
in every possible way. We were not then aware of all
the trials and tribulations that awaited us on the departure
of General Hoskins and his excellent staff—sahibs
to a man.</p>
<p>The battalion owes a deep debt of gratitude to Mr.
Jessop, the capable secretary of the Y.M.C.A. in
Egypt, who supplied us with a magnificent marquee,
completely furnished with tables, chairs, forms, lamps,
etc., etc. Only for this gift from the Y.M.C.A. we
should have been very badly off indeed, for we were
camped on a sandy waste without huts or any conveniences
which other troops in our neighbourhood fortunately
possessed.</p>
<p>It is a fact worthy of note that, although the wealthy
Jews of Cairo and Alexandria contributed generously to
the E. E. F. Comforts Fund, not a single article of any
kind was ever sent to the Jewish Battalion to cheer them
in their desolate surroundings. We asked for gramophones,
etc., but got nothing—not even a reply!</p>
<p>There were compensations, however, at Bir Salem.
We had many interesting visitors who came to cheer us
in our camp in the sands, among others the Haham
Bashi (Grand Rabbi of Jaffa) and the famous Dutch poet
Dr. de Haan. I remember that the latter took great
interest in a pet monkey which belonged to one of the
men of the battalion, but the quaint-looking little animal
showed little respect for the poet, for she evinced a
decided desire to leave the print of her teeth in his finger
as a souvenir of his visit.</p>
<p>We were always kindly and hospitably received by the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</SPAN></span>
citizens of Jaffa, headed by Mr. Bezalel Jaffe, and by
those of Richon-le-Zion, headed by Mr. Gluskin, when
we visited those colonies.</p>
<p>While stationed here I spent many a pleasant evening
chatting with Mr. Aharoni, a well-known naturalist, who
lives at Rechoboth. There is perhaps no man in all
Syria and Palestine with such a wide knowledge of the
flora and fauna of those countries, and he gave me many
interesting accounts of his adventures among the
Bedouins while in quest of specimens for various
European museums.</p>
<p>When the Great War broke out he had secured two
live ostrich chicks, new to science, and these he had
hoped to send alive to England. However, when the
pinch for food came there was none for the ostriches, so
they had to be killed; they were stuffed, and may now
be seen at Lord Rothschild's famous museum at Tring
Park, Hertfordshire. This story of the ostrich
chicks was related to me by Mr. Aharoni while I was
celebrating with him the "Feast of Tabernacles,"
under the shade of "boughs of goodly trees, branches
of palm trees, and the boughs of thick trees, and willows
of the brook," and we did greatly rejoice, for the Feast
was a goodly one, and the pottage of Gevereth Aharoni
was such as my soul loved.</p>
<p>About this time many military Race Meetings were
organized in different parts of Palestine, Syria, and
Egypt, and officers were encouraged to take part in them
and get the men interested in the sport, so as to take
their thoughts away from the absorbing topic of demobilization.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>On the 5th June a Race Meeting was held at Surafend,
a few miles from Bir Salem, and as we were all expected
to support the programme, I entered my charger Betty
for one of the events.</p>
<p>Betty was a beautiful dark-brown creature, but somewhat
skittish and wayward, like many of her sex. I
knew her little ways and how to humour her to perfection,
and she always gave me of her best. More than once
she managed to slip her fastenings in the horse lines,
and used her freedom to gallop off to my tent, where
she would thrust her head through the doorway; then,
apparently satisfied, she would fly back to her place in
the lines.</p>
<p>She appeared at times to see something not visible to
the human eye, because, now and again, when cantering
quickly along, for no apparent reason she would suddenly
bound aside as if the Devil himself had scared her
out of her wits.</p>
<p>The 3rd Lahore Division had at this time on its Staff
an able and energetic sportsman, Major Pott, of the
Indian Cavalry; this officer provided an excellent programme
and ran the meeting without a hitch.</p>
<p>It was a lovely sunny afternoon, and thousands of
people flocked to the course, soldiers from the camps
round about, civilians from Jerusalem, Jaffa, and the
surrounding colonies; the Arabs and Bedouins also sent
a very strong contingent.</p>
<p>In the race for which I had entered Betty (I called
her Betty in memory of another Betty, also beautiful and
with a turn of speed!) a full score of horses went to the
post, and I, unfortunately, drew the outside place. I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</SPAN></span>
therefore felt that unless I got well away at the start,
and secured sufficient lead to enable me to cross to the
inside, I would have but a poor chance of winning, for,
about half-way down the course, there was a tremendous
bend to negotiate. I was lucky enough to jump away
in front, and, soon finding myself well ahead, swerved
across to the inside, where I hugged the rails. For
three parts of the way round Betty made the running,
but soon after we came into the straight for home I eased
her a bit and was passed by Major Pott, who was riding
a well-known mare, also, strange to say, called Betty.
At the distance the Major was quite a length ahead of
me, but I felt that there was still plenty of go in my
Betty, so I called upon the game little mare to show her
mettle. Gradually she forged herself forward until there
was but a head between them, and for the last dozen
strides the two Bettys raced forward dead level amid
the frantic roars of the crowd, all shouting, "Go on,
Betty! Go on, Betty!" We both rode for all we
were worth, my Betty straining every nerve to defeat
her namesake, and finally, amid terrific cheering, by the
shortest of heads, Betty won—but, alas, it was the other
Betty!</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN href="images/i251a.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/i251a-t.jpg" width-obs="345" height-obs="400" alt="" /></SPAN> <span class="caption"><br/>RUINS AT BAALBEK<br/> (<i>See page</i> <SPAN href="#Page_212">212</SPAN>)</span><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN href="images/i251b.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/i251b-t.jpg" width-obs="229" height-obs="400" alt="" /></SPAN> <span class="caption"><br/>MY CHARGER BETTY<br/> (<i>See page</i> <SPAN href="#Page_209">209</SPAN>)</span></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</SPAN></span></p>
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