In the end a driver from one section rode into a gun belonging to the
other, and the situation was saved. Another driver briefly expressed our
unanimous view when he said: "If this is blooming Palestine, give me two
yards of Piccadilly and you can have all of it!" Finally, as it never rains
but it pours, we had the cheering news that we were not returning to El
Chauth, that we were to have a couple of hours' sleep, the first since
starting out, after which we had a further twenty miles to go!
The last five miles of those twenty were the hardest I ever remember. The
horses had not had the saddles off their backs for over two days and were
almost dropping with fatigue; nor were their riders in much better state.
The heat was terrific, and the greater part of the journey was over country
on which scarcely a vestige of green remained; indeed, the last few miles
were through heavy sand powerfully reminiscent of the desert.
We camped at last in a great grove of fig-trees near the sea.
CHAPTER XIII
IN THE WADI
At Fig-tree Camp we had what the army calls a "rest," which must not in any
way be confused with the word that implies repose. There is nothing of a
reposeful nature about an army "rest." It means that you come out of the
line for periods varying from two hours to two months, usually a great deal
nearer the former than the latter, and spend the time doing what the
authorities term "smartening up," after the gay and festive season through
which you have just passed. This generally takes the form of parades every
other hour, when the officers prattle amiably of matters to which you have
long been a stranger, and the Sergeant-Major takes the opportunity of
preventing his vocabulary from falling into disuse. Also, if you are in the
artillery, you clean your harness and polish up the steel-work thereon till
it twinkles like a heliograph in the sun. Then you go out and dirty
everything again.
When you come to examine the various forms of army discipline there are
usually to be found sensible and logical reasons for their existence; but
we amateur soldiers could never understand the necessity, on active
service, for polishing and burnishing steel-work, especially in a country
of strong sunlight; and there was certainly nothing in our daily duties
that we loathed half so much. For ceremonial parades, of course, you turned
out as "posh" as the next man, but in a parched land where you could with
difficulty keep your own person clean, it seemed a grievous waste of time
and energy polishing bits and chains and stirrup-irons merely for the sake
of doing it. Besides, think of the hours so spent which might have been
devoted to sleep! The afternoon we arrived at Fig-tree Camp most of us
would have liked to follow the sound example of that Lord Chesterfield who,
when he felt tired, used to say to his servant: "Bring me a dozen of sherry
and call me the day after to-morrow!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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