In March, 1918, the Camel Corps trekked through Palestine to Richon, where they sampled the wine of the country. Then, after the rains, they ploughed their way through mud and slush and wire to Bethlehem. From the wintry heights of Judea they descended by way of Jericho to the midsummer of the Jordan Valley and on to Amman. Much has been written about the adventure, or misadventure, into the hills of Moab. Never will the Cameleers forget that night journey over slippery goat-tracks to Es Salt. Never before or since was there ever such a journey. Hour after hour the cavalcade struggled onward and upward, crawling round ugly devil’s-elbows on mountain tracks, slipping and floundering in the mud. Time and again camels would collapse, bogged and helpless, and some toppled over the precipice. But the Brigade got to Amman and blew up the Hedjaz Railway. Back to the Jordan Valley again, the prey of snakes and scorpions and spiders, mosquitos and flies and Turkish shells—but the mosquitos were the worst. Scores and scores of men went sick with malaria, which recurred during subsequent operations. The last big scrap of the I.C.C. was the defence of Musallabeh, which the Turks attacked with grim determination. In spite of very heavy casualties, the Cameleers held on and beat off the enemy. Because of this gallant defence, General Allenby decreed that henceforth Musallabeh should be called “The Camel’s Hump.” With Sinai far behind and well-watered country ahead, it was seen that the Camel Brigade had outlived its usefulness. So, in May, the Cameleers returned westward towards Jaffa, handed over their camels, and were mounted on horses and armed with swords for the Big Push. “TROOPER BLUEGUM.” [Illustration] [Illustration: PORTION OF CONVOY OF 8,000 CAMELS BEARING SUPPLIES ON THE PHILISTINE PLAIN _Australian Official Photograph_ ] RESTING [Illustration] There’s a delightful sound about that little word “Rest.” It conjures up delicious visions of breakfast in bed, scrambled eggs on toast, lying about in the sun, nice books to read, etc., etc., as the imagination wills. Now, we didn’t expect all these things, but when we got the word, “The regiment is going for a rest behind the lines,” everybody’s ears pricked up, and we were all on the _qui vive_ for the few days following.