“ALLENBY OF ARMAGEDDON”

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12356, 28 January 1926, Page 5

“ALLENBY OF ARMAGEDDON”

Cavalry Leader, Tactician, Humanist and Nature-Lover

His Association with the Anzacs

Before he left ~ England, FieldMarshal Viscount Alieuby placed a poppy on the grave of his old mend and cinef, Hie Earl of Ypres. This was no mere gesture; it symbolised the finer feelings of the man who was, perhaps, the most dominant personality of the war. “Bull” Allenby they call him in the Service, partly trom. iiis physical build and partly from his roaring voice—the great voice which told his officers in Palestine: “There are no objectives, but I want the whole Turkish army, and I am going to have it.” In a biography of outstanding virility (“Allenby of Armageddon,” by Raymond Savage), we see our Allenby in the. guises of ruthless warrior, tender humanist, and lover of nature. Here is a picture of Allenby the S’oldier at work at the time of the Arras victory in 1917, told largely in the words of an enemy officer: * Every day Allenby pushed up more guns. A letter from a young German officer on this front eloquently outlines the situation. “We are existing in the gravel Horror and horror! , Driven from splendid positions. ... . We dare no longer go forward—and we crouch in the shell-holes, suffering prodigious losses, pulverised by the terrible and continuous English drum-fire.” And here we have Allenby the Humanist: — The big car frequently raced off without stopping, but even after critical battles it would return in a more leisurely fashion, and there were always sweets and a few pleasant words for the orphaned mites watching at the doors of the overcrowded cottages and huts. Few more touching stories have been told than that of little Azenia, aged 10, a refuge© from Arras, who, when the Gothas raided St. Pol, just as she had returned from celebrating her First Communion, was carried away in her bloodisoaked festal attire with a jagged wound in the neck and her right hand nearly torn off: — When she revived. . . . English nurses were hovering around her and then the Soeur Superieure of the Hospice brought in the big English General, who sat by her bedside and held her unwounded band. Next day the pain .was terrible, the hospital was busy, and her little dazed head could not quite make'the English nurses understand. Then, through her tears, she saw everyone bowing. It was the British Commander again; and he came straight over and sat pit her bed. It was surprisingly simple to confide in him. She did not know that the baby was ill and her grandfather dead. It was her birthday, and as she explained through her tears, “Maiman n’est pas venue aujourd’hui!” The little girl got better, and “Bull” Allenby arranged that she should go to the home for maimed children of the war in Paris to finish her education and he taught a trade. “The proudest day of her life came when all France rang with the good news—her General had routed the Turks and captured Jerusalem. Allenby came home from France in the summer of 1917, having been selected for the Egyptian Command. He was sent for by Mr Lloyd'George, the Prime Minister, and informed that the Cabinet would like to have Jerusalem as a Christmas present. Again and again, Mr Savage tells us, the Prime Minister had appealed for an attempt at a knock-out blow .upon one or another of the areas of the far-flung battle line which stretched from Belgium to Bagdad, and, as the great offensives failed, he felt that Palestine should be selected for the trial. Allenby walked into Jerusalem on December 11th. How he swept up the Turkish Army, and went on from victory to victory all the way to Aleppo, still reads like fiction rather than stern soldiering. That Allenby liked the roads clear for' his car was well known to his divisional commanders. Once in Palestine, on his way to visit a particular division, he noticed signallers stationed at intervals, and stopped te ascertain the cause. This conversation took place:— Commander-in-Chief: "What are you doing? Signaller: Signalling, sir. C—in-G.: I can see that, but for what reason are you signalling? S.: A warning that you are approaching Divisional Headquarters, sir. C.-in-O.: Oh, and what form is the message taking? S.: Three letters, sir. C.-in-C.: What are theyP (Confusion, a blush, and dead silence on the part of the signaller.) Came on, what are they?

S. (after a minute’s hesitation): Please, sir, 8.8. L. C.-in-C.: 8.8. L. ? What does that mean ? S. (confused, terrified, hut caught): Please, sir, “B Bull’s loose!” “A 1 Nebey, the Prophet.” By a simple corruption of. the name of Allenby its holder was endowed by the Arab population of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria with some of that semi-supernatural glamour that has fallen to the lot of so many Englishmen, soldiers and civilians alike, who have achieved distinction in the Orient. His coming to the Egyptian Expeditionary Force in 1917 lent colour to the theory, which gained universal acceptance, that he was the Prophet of Levantine tradition, on whose coming the waters of the Nile would be carried into the Holy Land, and the land itself would be freed from its oppressors. Immediately on His arrival, it was apparent that a new, powerful driving

ter-marchings, burst into chuokles when they saw how the Turk had been completely deceived as to the flank on which the main attack was to he delivered. The 1918 campaign opened with the establishing in Jerusalem of an elaborate general headquarters, the lukury of which aroused bitter comment. News of the opening of these H.Q. was conveyed to the enemy — for Allenby proposed to strike in an entirely different direction—and, as usual, the ruse was crowned with success. Megiddo saw the completion of the prophecy,; the waters of the Sweet Water Canal had been carried by pipeline across the deeert to Rafa, in Palestine, and the Turks were in full retreat. A little known sequel to the campaign occurred in Damascus, during the joint occupation by the British forces and the Hedjaz Arabs, under the command of the Emir Feisal, eon of the Shareef of Mecca. Complaints as to the exoesses com-

force was at work. Headquarters of the foroe were moved from Cairo aorosa the Sinai desert, to the front, and in all quarters of the Army area was felt the influence of a tall, tireless, rather ruthless commander, who drove everyone, himself included, at top speed. Like another famous whirlwind campaigner, Stonewall Jackson, of Shenandoah Valley fame, Allenby carried strategic dissimulation to such a high degree that time after time he puzzled, not only his opponents, but even bis own subordinates. Moving troops and establishing headquarters and supply depots, apparently with an absolute lack of method, he kept friend and foe alike in a complete state of bewilderment, which after time changed to unstinted admiration when the combination was complete and the blow struck. Marshal Liman von Sanders) the German Commander-in-Chief of the Turks, escaped in his pyjamas when Allenby’s troops entered Nazareth. “A (British) cavalry officer reined up in front of the building,, which afterwards was discovered to have been the German General’s quarters, and was buttonholed by two excited nuns from the neighbouring convent. These good women volubly attempted in French to explain something to the British' offiper, who, not understanding the language, merely smiled indulgently, and replied, ‘All right. Presently, presently.’ This officer rode off to meet his comrades, and the two good nuns were thus fooled in their attempt to inform him that Liman von Sanders was in an upper room of the house in his pyjamas, and could be led out captive as docile as any lamb.” • a • • The system was first seen in operation at Gaza, where troops, worked to a pitch of -exasperation by their seemingly futile marchings and coun-

mitted by the unruly deeert raiders on the friendly native population were numerous, and relations were somewhat strained. Feisal found his newly won importance somewhat heady, and grandiose dispatches were broadcast through Arabia, in which the exploits of the Arab auxiliaries were much magnified. The climax came on top of a “Special Order of the Day,” in which Fiesal graciously expressed his appreciation of Ijhe loyal co-operation of the British Forces. / What connection there was between a private interview betweeg Lord Allenby and Feisal, and the immediate departure of the latter with all his forces, only the two principals can tell. • • • • Among the New Zealanders Allenby will best be remembered, perhaps, by what was known as “the Surafend affair” and its sequel. This is worth briefly recalling. Close to the camps in which the three brigades of the Anzac Mounted Division were spending their last days in Palestine was the native village of Surafend, whose inhabitants were a gang of stealthy and expert thieves. One night a New Zealand machine-gunner chased out of his tent an Arab from Surafend who had attempted to rob him while he was asleep. The fugitive turned and shot the New Zealander dead. The demand of the New Zealanders for retribution was not satisfied, and, with the assistance of the Australians, they took the matter into their own hands. Next night the village was surrounded, the women and children were passed into safety, and the New Zeatanders, armed with sticks, attacked the male inhabitants and fired the houses. Many Arabs were killed. Having burned a Bedouin camp which was adjacent, the soldiers quietly returned to their lines. What followed is thus described by

Mr H. S. Gullett, a member of tbe Australian Parliament. “Allenby wasted no time in expressing his mind to the division. The brigades were assembled on foot in hollow square, and the Commander-in-Chief addressed them in strong, and even, one might say, ill-considered language. He used terms which became his high position as little as the business at Surafend had been worthy of the great soldiers before him. The division fully expected strong ' disciplinary action for Surafend and would have acoepted it without resentment. But the independent manhood of the Anzacs could not accept personal abuse from the Commander-in-Chief. Allenby’s outburst left the division sore, but unpunished.” Up to the time of the resumption of the embarkation of the overseas forces in June, 1919, Allenby, who was then in control of the affairs of Egypt, had not further recognised the Anzac Mounted Division. Mr Gullett visjted him, and pointed out the unsatisfactory position which existed. Allenby expressed surprise, and maintained that the Surafend incident deserved all he had said of it. Yet, said he. neither it nor anything else could shake his deep admiration and affection for the Anzacs. “He issued at once,” writes Mr Gullett, “a glowing and appreciative farewell order to the Australians, and at the same time wrote personally a tribute to their work in Palestine, remarkable for its discernment of their distinctive qualities.” • • • •

Best of all for Allenby’s prospects when he took over the Palestine command was the fact that he found the British army in Palestine ripe for a new Commander-in-Chief (says H. S. Gullett, in “The A.I.F. in Sinai and Palestine”). Allenby came, so far as the troops in Palestine knew, with a brilliant, untarnished reputation. Every man in southern Palestine had read and talked of his great work when as the leader of the heroio cavalry division in France during the opening days of 1914, he had covered the retreat of French’s hard-pressed little army across the fields and down the highways and byways to the dramatically decisive turning point south of the Marpe, His first decisive action, which was to give entirely new life to the campaign, was to remove his headquarters from the Savoy Hotel in Cairo to the front line area at Kelab, a few miles north of Rafa. That proceeding not only brought him within a short motor drive of every point of his extended trenches, but naturally exercised an _ instant effect upon the efficiency of his headquarters staff. His predecessor’s staff had worked in luxurious offices at the Savoy and lived at fashionable hotels or in comfortable quarters, very often with their wives and l families. It was imposible that they could apply _ to the affairs, of the campaign that intimate knowledge and energy which are as essential to victory as sagacity and valour on the field.

But there was nothing familiar about Allenby’s touch with his regiments and battalions. He went through the hot, dusty camps of his army like a strong, fresh, reviving wind. He would dash up m his car to a light horse regiment* shake hands with a few officers, inspect hurriedly, but with a sure eye to good and bad points, the horses of, perhaps, a single squadron, and be gone in a few minutes, leaving a great trail of dust behind him. His tall and massive, but restlessly active figure, his keen eyes and prominent hooked nose, his terse and forcible speech, and his imperious bearing, radiated an impression _of tremendous resolution, quick decision and steely discipline. Troops who caught only a fleeting glimpse of him felt that here at last was a man with the natural qualities of a great driving commander, who, given a task and supplied, ns Allenby was, with a great scheme for its accomplishment, would relentlessly force it through to its conclusion. On" the occasion of his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, when other lea-lira might have been tempted to introduce some show of ostentation, Allenby walked in, attended by neither flag nor triumphal hand, ae-. companied by representatives of the Allies and followed by his staff, as he would have on any inspection. of troops in the field. Allenby was, by disposition, a downright man, and a plain, dealer, always intolerant of unnecessary show on active service. As the proclamation was read by representatives of the various nationalities and races, he was obviously impatient at the wearisome hut necessary repetition ; and a. few minutes later, when all the religious and civic notabilities were introduced to him in turn, he was again ill at ease, and anxious to pit hack to the prosecution of liia still incomplete military task. ‘ ■

To see, to hear, to observe much, and to speak little, was Allenby’s rule of action in public.