The division had been promised a rest at Sidon for the remainder of the day, but shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon an urgent message came ordering us to make a forced march in order to reach Beyrout, thirty-five miles away, the following night! At four o'clock we left the beach and climbed steadily past those glorious gardens, until we struck the highroad. A few miles outside Sidon, we passed an inn which could not have changed much in character since the time of Christ. It formed a bridge across the road, and thus gave shelter to the passer-by from the noonday heat in summer and the torrential rains in winter; on one side there were the living rooms for the traveller and on the other side the stables wherein his ass or his horse could rest for the night. There were a few men lying in the shade of the "bridge" as we passed, and, peering into the stable, I could just see a donkey contentedly munching at the manger: the whole scene seemed to have come straight out of the New Testament.
Later in the afternoon I noticed a beautiful little house standing in its own garden, and rode over to examine it more closely. One thing only I saw; the rest was blotted out. Nailed to his door was the body of the owner, and beneath lay the charred—yes, charred—remains of what had once been his legs. He had been crucified and burnt alive; the twisted body, and the awful, tortured expression on the martyred man's face, left no room for doubt.
After a halt for a couple of hours at midnight we began the final stage. While it was yet dark we had tremendous difficulty with those camel-drivers who were unable to see at night, the "mush-shuf-bi' leil's" ("can't see-at-nights") we used to call them; and as we had a few blind camels as well the situation called for some ingenuity. The only way to solve the problem was to tie the men's wrists to the saddles of the camel immediately in front of them. They then allowed themselves to be towed along, keeping the rope just taut enough to act as a guide.
The blind camels were similarly treated, though even then there were accidents. One came shortly before dawn as we were crossing a viaduct with neither wall nor protection of any kind against a thirty-foot drop. A blind camel blundered towards the edge, slipped, and crashed down into the riverbed, and as he had 200 lbs. of biscuits on his back to speed his fall, it looked like a certain casualty. With some difficulty we clambered down to him, and found him not only alive but calmly grazing on the herbage around! And when the biscuits were removed he got up, grunting and snarling, but absolutely uninjured and ready to carry his load again.
As we approached Beyrout the signs of distress among the people grew more and more pronounced. Along the route were several tiny villages whose inhabitants gathered by the roadside to beg for food, and it was awful to see the wolfish way they ate the biscuits we gave them. At many places women stood with jars of water which they offered to the camel-drivers, not, I am sure, as a quid pro quo, but because it was all they had to offer.
Just at the entrance to the olive-groves, which extend for six miles out of Beyrout, I saw a dead child lying by the roadside, and from that point the journey became a succession of heartrending sights. Gaunt, lean-faced men, women thin to the point of emaciation, and children whose wizened faces made them look like old men, lined the route weeping for joy at their deliverance. Every one of our men as he passed handed over his day's rations of bully-beef and biscuits to the starving people; I saw one woman hysterically trying to insert a piece of army biscuit into the mouth of the baby in her arms, and groups of little boys fighting for the food thrown to them. It was pitiful to see the gratitude of people who succeeded in catching a biscuit or a tin of bully; and the way they welcomed our camel-drivers, who, of course, spoke Arabic like themselves, was a revelation.
A man, haggard with want, came out of his little wine-shop and offered me a glass of aniseed, apologising courteously for its poor quality, and explaining that it was the only drink he had been able to obtain for sale during the War! A glance at the rows of empty bottles in his shop-window confirmed the statement. God knows how he had earned his living during the past three years.
Towards evening the head of the long column entered Beyrout: from miles behind on the hills we could see the swinging kilts of the Highlanders, while the sound of the bag-pipes floated faintly back to us. By eight o'clock, we, too, were marching into the town through crowds of delirious people, who clung to the troops as they passed and kissed the boots of the mounted men; it was the most painful, pitiful experience of all. As we swung down the hill towards the beach a man said: "You are just in time, monsieur; in six days we should all have been dead."
That was the main thing: we had marched ninety-six miles in six days, we were dog-tired after a last continuous trek of eighteen hours, but—we were in time!