Ismailia, a small town on the Suez Canal, has a considerable French population, connected with the canal company. The town is very clean, even in the native quarters, while palm groves and tropical gardens furnish a relieving contrast to the surrounding desert of yellow sand. During the war it became the Base of the Australian Imperial Forces and also contained a large British Ordnance Depot. The main railway line from Port Said to Suez passed through the town, and on the east lay the large lakes of Timsah which form part of the Suez Canal. Leave passes into the town were granted, and this freedom was greatly appreciated by the men; for since the days of Katerina we had not even been encamped near a village. Officers were invited as honorary members of the French Club which provided excellent luncheons and dinners at a reasonable cost. The place was crowded each evening and jolly times were spent there. Leave as far as Cairo and Alexandria was granted, and parties left daily for three days in one of these cities. A certain amount of training was carried out in the early morning and in the evening. The men in their pith helmets and “shorts” soon became acclimatised and accustomed to the terrific heat of the sun. Bathing parades in the lakes were held daily, and on the whole our stay at Ismailia was most enjoyable. At the end of July the Battalion moved by road as far as Kantara.
It was only a few days after our arrival at Ismailia that the Transport Section, minus horses, limbers, mules, etc., joined us from Salonica. They had left on board the Cestrian, and while at sea had been torpedoed and landed on the island of Mudros.
The following eye-witness story by the Transport Officer, Lieutenant T. W. Pearson, gives a short description of the sinking of the Cestrian:—
“The Battalion and part of the transport personnel sailed for Egypt a few days before the main body of the transport. The remainder of the transport received orders to load and embark on the Cestrian, on the 23rd of June, 1917. In addition to ourselves, with our limbers and animals, the Sherwood Rangers Yeomanry and a Divisional S.A.A. column sailed on the boat; in all about 980 men and 960 animals.
“While we were loading, a German plane came over, but it flew at such a height that no one took much notice of it, but afterwards we thought it may have had something to do with the loss of the Cestrian.
“The Staff Veterinary Officers commented very favourably on the condition of our animals.
“We eventually sailed about 9.0 p.m. in the evening, under glorious conditions; all the men and animals having comfortable berths. We were escorted by two destroyers, and these sailed on either side. We were about 12 or 13 hours out of Salonica early on Sunday morning, the 24th June, having just been dismissed from boat drill, and all was peaceful and the water as smooth as a billiard table, when suddenly the boat gave a terrible lurch; the water around was churned up and shot to a great height on the starboard side. We had been torpedoed right amidship and the torpedo had struck the boilers, and soon every one was drenched with the sooty water which had been forced out of the funnels, and a funny looking lot we were.
“Part of the torpedo was forced on the upper deck. It was a terrible shock to all, as there was no warning whatever, but no one lost his head, every one went quietly to his respective boat station, without any panic. One of the life-boats allotted to us was broken up by the explosion, and, as an example of the coolness of our men, one of the fellows calmly produced a pocket camera and took snapshots of the damage.
“Nobody was allowed to go down below to the animals, though we could hear them screaming. If the incident had occurred about half an hour later we should have been below at stables and probably there would have been many more casualties. Fortunately, the casualties were confined to the ship’s crew below. I heard that one had been killed and several seriously wounded and scalded.
“Within a few seconds, one of the destroyers was alongside and commenced transferring the men from the wreck aboard her by means of ropes and rope ladders, and while this was taking place she was firing at 1,000 yards range at the periscope of the Hun, and is believed to have made a hit. The second destroyer was circling around at full speed to keep the submarine from reappearing. Many of the men jumped overboard on the port side, but all were saved by the second escort. The wireless was soon busy, and in a very short time help came from all directions. The Cestrian did not sink at once, but was towed to within a few miles of land when she suddenly went down with all animals on board. It is thought that she would have been towed in safely except for the fact that so many port-holes had been left open.
“The men were landed at Mudros, which was one of the islands used as a base depot during the Dardanelles campaign. We were a queer-looking crowd when we landed; some with nothing on their feet; others just in shirts and trousers; I don’t think anyone was fully dressed. The staff on the island were wonderfully kind, and did all that was possible to make us comfortable. Within half an hour of landing at Mudros, all were billeted and were comfortably housed. The A.S.C. officials were very prominent and had rations out to the men in a very short time. During our stay here, the Y.M.C.A. deserves great praise, they got all manner of things for the men free of charge, and organised concerts. They did so well that I believe many of the men wrote home to their parents to send a subscription to the Y.M.C.A. We were on the island for just a week when we were picked up by a boat from Salonica proceeding with troops of our own Brigade (London Scottish) for Egypt. We arrived in Alexandria minus our transport. I regret to say that the Battalion never had such good animals again all the time in the Palestine campaign as those which we had lost on the Cestrian. On arrival in Egypt the Battalion had to have the ‘cast offs’ from the other Battalions in the Division who were reducing their strength, and, naturally, they handed to us all their ‘duds,’ and you never saw such ‘clothes racks’ as they were. How the transport ever kept up with the Battalion on trek in Palestine I don’t know. As time went on, however, we were able to make exchanges with the Remount Department and got rid of some of our worst.”
To return to the doings of the Battalion in Egypt. Their stay at Kantara, which had by this time developed into an immense base for the Egyptian Expeditionary Force, was only for a day, and they were soon on the train bound for the Palestine Front. This desert railway across the Sinai Peninsula for over a distance of 150 miles was one of the finest engineering feats of the war. Early in the war the British garrison had jealously guarded Egypt by means of outposts along the Suez Canal, and frequent raids on this defensive line were made by the Turks. It was, therefore, decided to push the line right out into the desert, and under the pressure of the Australian Mounted units, the Desert Mounted Corps and certain Infantry Divisions, the Turk was forced north, and when the Battalion joined the E.E.F. the firing line was just south of Gaza and running inland to Sheik Nuran on the south-east, generally speaking along the line of the Wadi Ghuzze. The whole of this advance from the Canal to Gaza had been made over the trackless waste of the Sinai Peninsula desert. In order to provide rations, stores and ammunition to the advancing troops a railway was laid by the Royal Engineers, ably assisted by working parties of the Egyptian Labour Corps of natives. The railway was kept up to the advancing troops at each step forward, and in order to provide water a pipe line ran at the side of the railway. Dumps and depots were made at intervals. At El Arish numerous sidings were built and stores and water were accumulated, and the small oasis of palm groves became a busy advanced base. From this point the line was pushed forward through Rafa, and when the Battalion arrived in Egypt the railhead was at Belah a few miles south of Gaza; where there were large dumps and also two extensive stationary hospitals. On arrival at Belah the Battalion detrained and marched through loose sand, ankle deep, and great was the relief when it pitched its bivouac near the seashore; the pleasure of sea bathing was shortlived, for in a few days, on the 29th July, 1917, the Battalion marched inland to join the Desert Corps. It was here at Belah that a new method of transport was introduced in the shape of the Camel Transport Corps. That fascinating quadruped, the camel, was substituted for the mule, although a few mule-drawn vehicles still remained for general purposes. At Belah there were extensive camel lines; each camel company, which consisted of 600 camels, having its own area. Ropes were staked across the width of these lines at regular intervals and to these ropes the camels were tethered a few yards apart. Each pair of camels had an Egyptian attendant, who was dressed in a long butcher-blue smock with the letters C.T.C. in red on the chest. These natives took great pride in their lines and kept them particularly clean, while the saddles were neatly arranged just in rear of the camels.
The saddle fitted over the hump of the camel, and at each side near the top of the saddle were fixed two stout bars of wood, about ten inches longer than the saddles, on to which the loads were hooked in rope nets. Water was carried in “fanatis” or copper tanks, which rested on the sides of the saddle. A certain number of men were detailed as camel guides from each company and section in the Battalion.
On leaving Belah, on the evening of the 29th July, the Battalion struck inland in a south-easterly direction along rough-made tracks, but the sand was loose and made the going very heavy. Although it was evening time the heat was terrific, and soon the perspiration was rolling down every one’s face and the dust raised by the column soon formed into mud on the face and hands. Every one was choked with dust and eyes and nostrils became extremely painful. No one felt like singing, and even talking was rewarded with a mouthful of sand, one and all just blindly followed on through the cloud of dust raised by the four in front, which could only just be discerned. Water was limited, and it was practically forbidden to drink it; only a mouth wash or gargle could be indulged in. After struggling for about nine or ten miles in this unpleasant fashion the whole column was relieved to move off the tracks and settle down for a rest. With no movement the dust clouds disappeared, and in the wondrous beauty of the moonlight of a warm Egyptian night bivouacs were soon erected, but water was too scarce to make tea, and doubts arose as to when the next issue would arrive. Nevertheless, tiredness overcame the Battalion, and it was soon asleep. The next morning the sun poured down, but the arrival of the water camels cheered us and the routine of desert life, which was to be our existence for some time to come, had begun. After a day’s rest, which included the kicking about of a football by some of the more energetic, the Battalion moved off again in the evening, about 4 p.m., and plodded its weary way past Sheik Nuran to Gambli on the Wadi Ghuzze. This was a repetition of the previous night’s march in every detail, except that the ending was not a simple right wheel on to the level desert, but as a special treat a descent of the steep cliffs of the wadi banks had to be negotiated. This descent was difficult with such appendages as company mules, camels and transport, and was followed by a mile over the stony bed of the wadi. About midnight the Battalion halted and settled for the night under the steep banks of the wadi. The next day the companies went out to take over the line on the Gambli defences. Reliefs were carried out by day and companies simply marched over the desert in mass, a most amusing performance after the communication trenches in France and the careful night reliefs on the Salonica Front. At this point of the line the Turks were at least 20 miles away, and, therefore, precautions from shelling were not necessary. This, indeed, was a pleasant part to hold and keep. Strong points well wired around were held, these being about 150 yards apart. The right flank of our line curled back so that it actually faced away from the Turk. The front was protected by night by cavalry patrols of Australian Light Horse, while to the east the Desert Camel Corps was operating as a mobile flank guard. Bivouacs were arranged in the small wadis or fissures in the ground and, of course, movement was not restricted. To those who were not privileged to see this part of the war it would be humorous to think of the sentry by day standing in the trench shewing well above the parapet under the protection of a huge umbrella-like shade which could be seen for miles around. Although the war in this theatre lacked shot and shell it had other horrors in the shape of oppressive heat, limited supplies of water, sandstorms, and numerous flies. In addition to the ever-present insect life associated with active service and the trenches, there were centipedes, scorpions, tarantula spiders and small snakes, which invaded our blankets. Chameleons were also plentiful and were kept as pets, though we never committed the atrocity attributed to a man in a Scottish Division on the Palestine Front who placed a pet chameleon on his tartan kilt and wondered why the poor little beggar suddenly died.
An average day in these parts was as follows: Early morning company drill in front of the wire, breakfast, and then utter collapse and seeking of shade until about 4 p.m. The only joy of the hot day was the arrival of the camels with water, and even this water was strongly chlorinated. Water was drawn from the Wadi Ghuzze where, by digging down for a few feet, pools of water were frequently found. During the day every one lay down and put pieces of muslin over their faces, hands and exposed knee caps, so that the flies should not be too irritating. Each afternoon a hot wind, called the “Khamsin,” blew regularly and brought with it a sandstorm. Drifting sand found its way into every nook and cranny; the food was soon covered and things were generally unpleasant while the storm lasted. It was during one of these afternoons that a private remarked: “They call this a land of milk and honey, eh! One tin between 20 men and not a b——bee to be seen.” However, about 4 p.m. each day the atmosphere cooled a little; letter writing (not to forget the inevitable censoring), card playing and dinner were the next items on the programme, only to be marred by the company drill and exercises that followed.
At night-time sentry groups were posted by each platoon in its own strong point, and visiting patrols wandered between the posts throughout the night. It was a short night and no aerial torpedoes or other types of frightfulness disturbed the tour of duty. Each evening about 5 p.m. large bodies of Australian Cavalry went out to the front, sometimes accompanied by Armoured Cars, and took up an outpost line some five or six miles ahead of the defensive line. But even with this cavalry screen it was possible for a strong raiding party of Turks to attack one of our posts. In fact, only a short time before our arrival, our predecessors had been surprised one morning by a heavy bombardment with field guns, which some adventurous Turks had brought up under cover of darkness.
The Battalion, however, remained in undisputed possession of this part of the line until the 12th August, when it was relieved by the 2/13th Londons (Kensingtons) and retired to Tel el Fara, renowned as being a camping ground of Richard Cœur-de-Lion and his Crusaders. Tel el Fara was a high cliff jutting out into the Wadi Ghuzze and could be seen for many miles around and was used as an observation post. It was the local landmark for all who were lost on the desert. It is an easy matter to be lost on the desert, as each square mile is identical with its neighbours, and only a feature like Tel el Fara helped the wanderer.