With the Judaeans in the Palestine Campaign Part 22

I only hope that those who give up the struggle will not follow the example of a few misguided irresponsibles who chose the wrong way to support a right claim. I hope that they will await their release in a calm and dignified manner, discharging their duties to the last moment, and thus giving those who misrule this country a lesson in fair play--a lesson badly needed.

I remain, Sir, Your obedient Servant, XX.

To LIEUTENANT-COLONEL J. H. PATTERSON, D.S.O., Commanding 38TH BATTALION ROYAL FUSILIERS.

Bir Salem, 17-7-1919.

TO OFFICER COMMANDING 38TH ROYAL FUSILIERS.

SIR,

I have the honour to request that this application praying that I may be permitted to resign my Commission in His Majesty's Forces be forwarded through the usual channels, together with the undermentioned reasons for my taking this step after having originally volunteered for the Army of Occupation.

My resignation, Sir, is my only method of protest against the grossly unfair and all too prevalent discrimination against the battalion to which I have the honour to belong. I desire to point out to you, Sir, the fact that this unfair and un-British att.i.tude affects not only my honour as a Jew, but my prestige as a British officer, and this latter point must inevitably handicap me in the efficient discharge of my military duties.

The disgraceful exhibition of yesterday morning is but a fitting climax to the endless series of insults and annoyances to which this battalion--because it is a _Jewish Battalion_--has been subjected, almost since our first arrival in the E.E.F. Insults to a battalion as a whole, Sir, are insults directed to every individual member of that battalion, and as long as I remain a member of His Majesty's Forces, I regret to say I find myself unable to fittingly resent in a manner compatible with my own honour, and the honour of my race, the insulting att.i.tude towards my race, and through my race, towards me, of my military superiors.

In pa.s.sing, may I point out that my being a Jew did not prevent me doing my duty in France, in Flanders, and in Palestine, and in the name of the countless dead of my race who fell doing their duty in every theatre of war, I resent, and resent very strongly indeed, the abusive att.i.tude at present prevalent towards Jewish troops.

I have innumerable instances of petty spite, and not a few cases of a very serious character indeed, all of which I can readily produce should the occasion ever arise.

I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient Servant, Y.Y.

It was not only my Jewish officers who found life unbearable under these conditions, but the other officers also felt the strain.

I received the following letter from one of my senior Christian Officers after an outburst on the part of the Staff:

To the O.C. 38TH BATTALION ROYAL FUSILIERS.

Sir,

I have the honour to request that I be immediately relieved of my duties and permitted to proceed to England for demobilization. I am 40 years of age, and have had nothing except my desire to do my duty to keep me in the Service. The impossible conditions forced on the battalion by higher authority are too much for me, and I very much regret that I should have to trouble you with this application at the present time.

I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient Servant, SS.

Bir Salem, 24TH AUGUST, 1919.

Letters such as these give some slight conception of the extremely difficult position in which I was placed. On the one hand I had to ward off the blows aimed at the battalion by the local military authorities, while on the other hand I had to do my utmost to allay the angry feelings of my officers, N.C.O.s, and men, goaded almost to desperation by the att.i.tude adopted towards the battalion.

This anti-Jewish policy was directed not only against the Jewish Battalions, but also, in a flagrant manner, against the Jewish civil population, upon whom every indignity was poured; in fact, the British Military Administration made of the famous Balfour Declaration--the declared policy of the British Government--a byword and a laughing stock.

Early in 1919 the Chief Administrator then in office in Palestine, the man who represented the British Government, offered a public insult to the Jews at a Jewish Concert, by deliberately sitting down and ordering his staff to do the same when the Hatikvah, the Jewish national hymn, was being sung, while, of course, all others were standing. This was as deliberate an insult as could be offered to the feelings of any people.

England must be in a bad way when a man such as this is appointed to represent her as Governor.

Judge Brandies, of the United States Supreme Court, visited Palestine about the time when these anti-Jewish manifestations were at their height, and was shocked and horrified at the un-English att.i.tude he saw adopted towards the Jews and all things Jewish.

I myself told him of the mockery of the Balfour Declaration as exemplified by the British Military Administration in Palestine, and said I thought it was a pity that Mr. Balfour had not added three more words to his famous utterance. The Judge asked me what words I meant, and I said they were that Palestine was to be a national home for "the baiting of" the Jewish people!

I know that Judge Brandies went home hurriedly, very much perturbed at what he heard and saw, which was so contrary in everything to the spirit of the declared policy of England. He represented the state of affairs in Palestine to Downing Street, with the result that the local military authorities were told that the policy as laid down in the Balfour Declaration must be carried out.

This was a sad blow to those purblind ones who had looked forward to a long rule in the Middle East; for them the writing was already on the wall.

I want it to be clearly understood that this att.i.tude was merely the policy of the local military officials who, by their att.i.tude, were practically defying and deriding the policy of England, as expressed by the Home Government.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

A TRIP TO THE SEA OF GALILEE.

I had long looked forward to a visit to the Sea of Galilee (Lake Tiberias), and eventually, late in October, my ambition was fulfilled, for, taking advantage of "Damascus week," when leave was easy to get, I slipped off from Ludd one morning at 8.30, and arrived at Samakh, on the southern sh.o.r.es of the sea, at 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

My first peep of the Lake, as it stretched out before me and melted away in the purple haze to the north, was delightful. The colouring was superb and, as I sat on the edge of the rickety pier, I drank in my novel surroundings with all the enthusiasms of a rapturous pilgrim.

The Lake glistened and glinted in the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, the abrupt arid-looking hill-sides deepened the silent mystery that seemed to hang over it. Away to the right was the spot where the Gadarene swine, possessed of the evil spirit, rushed down to the sea and destroyed themselves.

Peering through my gla.s.ses straight north, I could see in the s.h.i.+mmering distance the dense groves of evergreens which told me that this was the place where the Jordan plunged down from "the waters of Merom" through a rocky gorge, and entered the Lake. Away to the left I caught a glimpse of a few trees and houses, and I realized that I was looking at Capernaum, the place in which it will be remembered the worthy Roman Centurion built a synagogue. Glancing further west, and somewhat nearer to me, I saw the site of Bethsaida; sweeping further westward and yet nearer, the round towers and rectangular walls of Tiberias itself stood revealed, while close to my left hand, at the south-west corner of the Lake, the thriving Jewish colony of Kinnereth overlooked the spot where the Jordan rushed out of the Lake on its way to the Dead Sea.

Round about me were children revelling in the limpid water, and even a few discreetly-veiled damsels displayed a fair share of their neat limbs, while paddling along the sandy sh.o.r.e in the shade of the cliffs.

Suddenly, into all this old-world scenery, there dashed a lively motor-boat, which had come from Tiberias to collect pa.s.sengers. We scrambled down from the crazy pier, and within an hour found ourselves climbing up the rickety gangway leading to Tiberias, a city which stands to-day much as King Herod Antipas, the builder, left it, although, in the meantime, it has been much devastated by earthquakes.

I was agreeably surprised to find a clean and fairly comfortable hotel, most capably managed by Frau Grossmann. It was still hot at Tiberias, and yet, by some mysterious means, Frau Grossmann always managed to produce a bottle of cold beer for dinner, a most grateful drink in this thirsty valley.

In the early morning, I hired a boat with a good-humoured Arab crew of three, and made an expedition across to Capernaum. Fish are still as plentiful here as they were in the days of Simon Peter, and the Capernaum fishermen still cast their nets as they did in apostolic times, and wear just as little clothing.

As I wandered among the ruins, I met a striking Franciscan, Father Vendelene, who was hospitality itself. He was a venerable German, a very fine-looking man, standing over six feet high, full of Christian charity, and apparently resigned to the blow which had fallen upon his nation. Besides being a monk he was also an architect and had built many monasteries, convents, and churches for the Franciscans in many parts of the world; but he had been a soldier before he became a monk, and I noticed, as he smoked a pipe and related to me his varied career, that his eyes glowed, and his broad shoulders were thrown back, as he described how he charged at the head of his squadron of Hussars in one of the battles of the Franco-Prussian War. The good Father took me round what was left of the synagogue built by the worthy Centurion whose servant was healed. It must have been a fine piece of architecture in its day, and it is a thousand pities that it has been levelled to the ground by an earthquake.

On my return to the hotel I found that two Nursing Sisters had arrived from Egypt to spend a few days at Tiberias, and at dinner I suggested that they should join me in my boat on a voyage of discovery which I intended to make across the Lake on the following morning, and to this they readily agreed.

The Military Governor of Tiberias had very kindly arranged for a mounted escort and a horse to be ready for me at the north end of the Lake where the Jordan enters it, as I wished to make an exploring expedition as far as possible up the river towards Lake Merom.

We left Tiberias at dawn and had a most delightful trip across the Lake, breakfasting in the boat on the way. Sister Cook, who was blessed with a charming voice, was moved to song, and the time pa.s.sed so pleasantly that before we knew where we were, we found ourselves stuck on a sandbar in the Jordan River itself. Our boatmen hopped out, pushed the boat over the bar into deep water, and off we paddled again up the famous river.

Great fields of ripe maize stretched away on either hand, and it was curious to see dusky youths perched aloft on stagings, armed with a sling, doing slaughter among any birds that dared to settle on their crops. We shoved the nose of our boat into the bank, took a stroll along a path through the tangled undergrowth, and soon met a crowd of Bedouins who presented us with some delicious maize cobs. In this manner we pleasantly meandered up the Jordan, now landing on this bank, and now on that, as it took our fancy, until at last a point was reached where the river was so shallow that the boat could go no further, and here I found my pony and escort awaiting me.

The latter was composed of local mounted Arab gendarmerie, under the command of a Jewish corporal, who had at one time served in the 40th Battalion Royal Fusiliers, and I noticed with pleasure that the Jew and the Arabs seemed to be on excellent terms.

I charged the boatman to take the Sisters to Capernaum, where I told them to call on Father Vendelene, who I knew would give them a warm welcome.

Having seen the boat safely started on the way, and with strict injunctions to the sailors to return for me in good time, I mounted my pony and started my exploration of the Upper Jordan.

My escort (who were also supposed to be guides) often got completely lost in the dense oleander jungle that here abounds, but after many trials and tribulations, in the course of which I came upon a submerged herd of buffalo sleeping peacefully in a marshy backwater, I emerged torn and bleeding at the entrance of the black rocky gorge down which the Jordan rushes. Riding here became impossible, so I went on foot until the westering sun warned me it was time to return.

On the way back, which was by another and much easier route, we came across a stalwart Bedouin hunter who, only five days before, had shot a splendid leopard on the hillside.

I asked him if there was any chance of my being able to do likewise. He replied that it was possible, but I might have to wait a month before I got a shot; I could, however, have other good hunting any day I liked, for the thickets were alive with wild boar. This man knew every track round about, and, as we were still shut in by dense thickets, he volunteered to come with me as a guide to the Lake. On parting he refused all offers of money, but later I sent him some tobacco, which I hope he received safely. My escort, when we reached open level country, raced and chased each other on their ponies, pulling up suddenly, or darting to the right or left in wild career. Both rode thoroughbred Arab mares and were immensely proud of their steeds, and their own prowess thereon.