We had often gazed at dawn on the gorgeous sunrise over the Mountains of Moab, and seen the dull silver of the Dead Sea turned to burnished gold; we had also seen that white streak across the dark plain of Jericho which denoted the presence of that wonderful stream, the Jordan, but the thought that the words of the old song “One more ribber to cross” would ever come literally true never entered our heads. If it did we gave it no serious thought. We had heard of the Jordan Valley and its appalling heat in summer (for had not the Turk left in Jericho a note to the effect that they would return in the autumn to bury us), and also were familiar with the expression “go to Jericho,” so, indeed, had no wish to spend any time there. If the shades of the hereafter are hotter than the scene of Joshua’s miracle they can have no terrors for the 60th London Division. “Brass hats,” however, have ever since their creation been seers of visions and dreamers of dreams, but their decision to give us an Easter holiday in Moab could only have been the result of a nightmare.
Accordingly, the 21st March, 1918, saw the 60th Division concentrated with the Anzac Mounted Division in the Jordan Valley, ready to carry out a raid on a scale unheard of in the annals of the war: that is, penetrating over thirty miles into enemy territory of the wildest nature, with the destruction of the Hedjaz Railway at Annam as the objective. The Civil Service Rifles crossed the river on the afternoon of the 23rd of March by a pontoon bridge at Makhadet Hajlah, which had been gallantly constructed under fire by the Engineers, and moved up the left bank of the river, passing on our way the Commander-in-Chief, General Allenby, and the Duke of Connaught, who was on a tour of inspection well within range of the Turkish field artillery. Our object to the north was to rout out a nest of machine guns which was delaying the crossing at the El Ghoranyieh Ford some five miles to the north, but to our delight this particular body had realised the threat to their rear, and had “impshied.”
We bivouacked for the night in the Wadi Nimrin, near Umm Enkhala, and at 5.0 a.m. the next day moved out in support of the London Scottish and the Queen’s Westminsters, who attacked the hill of El Haud which, held in force by the Turk, barred the second means of approach to Es Salt—that by way of the Wadi Arsinyet.
A Boche “pip squeak” battery, which endeavoured to hinder us, drew the attention upon itself of one of our own 4·5 howitzer batteries, and speedily ceased fire. We were not called upon to assist, and were fortunate to witness a most successful attack in open order against an extended position. The sight of lines of London infantry advancing calmly under a heavy enemy field and machine-gun fire, and also of the final assault with the bayonet was one to be remembered and treasured. El Haud was taken with little loss to our forces, and we moved up to the foot-hills and bivouacked in the Wadi Arsinyet, near El Haud.
The river Jordan at Makhadet Hajlah is 1,200 feet below sea level, and El Haud is 846 feet above, and the weather changed, becoming steadily worse. The night was wet and bitterly cold, and we were not sorry to start at 7.0 a.m. the next day on our advance up the Arsinyet track to Es Salt (Ramoth Gilead).
In heavy rain up a most slippery, muddy, and stony track, we toiled upwards and upwards as advanced guard to the Brigade, which, with a Regiment of Australian Light Horse and Mountain Battery, was soon strung out in single file. Communication was maintained with the 181st Brigade on the main Es Salt Road by means of a portable wireless installation, carried by the Light Horse. After a most exhausting climb of nearly 3,000 feet, we arrived on the outskirts of Es Salt about 1.0 p.m., thoroughly fatigued and soaked to the skin. The weather was bitterly cold, and it was felt all the more, for in a little over twenty-four hours we had moved from the tropical heat of the Jordan Valley up some 4,800 feet to the climatic conditions in winter of the top of a mountain higher than Snowdon. The Turk had retired hurriedly, and offered little opposition, and further progress being impossible owing to our exhausted state we bivouacked—and slept in inches of mud. The night was disturbed by much rifle fire from Es Salt, and at dawn on the 26th, No. 16 Platoon was detailed to reconnoitre the town. Under Lieutenant Andrew, who was acting as O.C. Company, they entered the town to find no trace of the Turk, and to receive a tumultuous welcome from the population who, during the night, had kept up a “feu de joie” from their house-tops, which noise we had interpreted as hostile rifle fire. We were the first British infantry to enter Es Salt, for it was not until some hours later that the 181st Brigade, which had been moving up the main road from Shunet Nimrin, arrived in the town. Supplies were lacking owing to the great difficulty of getting the camels up the slippery mountain track, and an officer was detailed to proceed to the 181st Brigade and bring back some water camels—water being the pressing need.
The remainder of the Division moved up the Annam road, and the defence of Es Salt was left to the Civil Service Rifles. The same evening the Battalion moved out to the north-east of the town to Kefi Huda (3,597 feet), and took up a position covering the route from the north to Es Salt.
News came through of a possible attack by some 2,000 Circassian cavalry, and arrangements were at once made for their proper reception. Time available was short, but by toiling all night under the protection of standing patrols of the Australian Light Horse, dawn on the Maundy Thursday saw the 2/15th snugly settled ready behind stone sangars. Firing started with the first light of dawn and continued throughout the day, but no serious attack was attempted by the Turk.
At dawn on Good Friday, under cover of a thick mist, the Turks attacked with bombs a post in the centre of the Battalion. An energetic reply with Mills hand and rifle grenades, and a burst of fire from a machine gun resulted in their speedy repulse. The mist suddenly lifted, and opposite a neighbouring post was discovered a Turkish captain and his batman, with their kit complete. He was brought in and it transpired that he had set out with 200 men to assault the hill under cover of the mist, but his left flank got too far forward and pressed the attack before the remainder were ready, and they in consequence—like the burglar who heard the noise overhead—thought all was lost and fled, leaving their officer stranded on the hillside. In his pocket was found a small diagram which showed the relative positions of all our Lewis and machine guns, and this caused no little searching in the mind, for we had, as we thought, camouflaged them successfully. However, even if he, the captain, knew, his snipers apparently did not, for, though throughout the week-end we were continually sniped, one of our Lewis guns, though continually in action, had not a shot fired at it.
