INTO SYRIA

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 65, Issue 5493, 3 July 1942, Page 3

INTO SYRIA

THE JOURNEY FROM EGYPT WHAT A SOLDIER SAW INTERESTING DESCRIPTION OF COUNTRY The following soldier’s narrative forms part of a letter recently received by z Mr A. J. Shepherd, of Morrinsville and formerly headmaster of the Te Awamutu School, from his son, Driver B. F. (Bert) Shepherd, who is well-known locally, stating that it signified a new phase in his military life, Driver Shepherd detailed at length his recent journey with the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force to Syria. “Moving in convoy,” he wrote, “we travelled parallel to a ‘lifeline of Empire’ before crossing it and embarking upon a military road—military in the sense that it is not properly surveyed nor meant to be permanent. It consists only of a thin crust of bitumen laid on soft shifting sand and stretching up hill and down dale mile after mile. This desert is as monotonous and unproductive as anything I have ever seen.”

Occasional evidence of the last war came to light, and Driver Shepherd commented on the vast empire the Turks once controlled, i.e., Libya, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, etc. Almost imperceptibly the barrenness gave ;vay to sparse desert scrub in wadis formed by sentinel escarpments which breasted the highway. Here the übiquitous nomadic Arab appeared with poor herds of scraggy camels. Further on, in depressions and valleys of the higher country, scattered grass and springtime desert flowers eked out miserable vegetation. And here the Bedouin Arab became noticeable' with flocks of fat-tailed sheep and piebald goats, accompanied by donkeys and camels. The low-slung black tents so typical of these people nestled unobstrusively among the rocks, while ill-clad children rushed to the road calling for “backsheesh” and “mungareea” (food). “RATTLE-BANG” BUS SERVICES The traditional dress, a flowing robe (often white) reaching to the ankles, with a white head-dress that droops down the back and is kept in place by a black cord looped round the head, with tassels flying in the breeze, is worn by the Arab in this part of the East. He often adds a scarf for utility purposes, and one is occasionally seen with sword or rifle and commonly with staff or crook. The wealthier Arabs ride on “steeds” of various descriptions but invariably decked in as radiant harness as can be afforded. Saddles as we know them are infrequent, but colourful saddle cloths always appear. But for all this the old donkey holds sway in transport for goods and people, and '“shank’s pony” isn’t despised. But “civilisation” cannot be denied —the old internal combustion engine is making inroads either in the form of old “Lizzies” or “Chevs” or rattlebang bus services. The Arab, said Driver Shepherd, varies considerably from the Egyptian insofar as he is more upstanding, more industrious and independent. He is lighter in skin and cleaner in habit, worthier of respect and more likely to command it. ARMED POLICE COMMON Driver Shepherd added that one was constantly reminded of the strife which had riddled Palestine too long—reminded by the police posts which have now been built all over the country and by the high protective wire fences -oft seen guarding orchards and gardens. The police posts were miniature garrison forts sited in commanding positions and designed to resist and repel attack, while armed police, in common with other occupied Eastern countries, caught the eye. Flying squads of armoured police cars were another precaution. The tarmac led to the coast, where white-sailed schooners on the calm blue Mediterranean, plying their coastal trade, reminded the narrator that this was once the famously-rich Levantine coast with its cedar woods, spices and oils, the outlet of a vast hinterland, the focal point of trade between East and West, between Western civilisation and the fabulous East. Because of these factors world conquerors coveted it and ravaged it with war. For other reasons, but including war, the trade is largely dissipated, but wars remain—and so does oil—mineral, not vegetative—which means wealth and power. The forces of evil want this oil for dastardly and perverted ambition—oil for a malignant purpose of domination which is its own destructive curse and scourging fallacy. PERCEPTIBLE CHANGES A snow capped distant mountain loomed into view. The countryside now reminded the narrator of Greece for olive trees became abundant, hamlets nestled half hidden in the hills, cultivation appeared everywhere, walled and terraced on the steeper slopes; herds and flocks of goats and sheep foraged under the care of herdsters. But the spontaneous welcome of a free, vigorous and righteous people was entirely lacking. As one moved round the Mediterranean one saw a gradual but perceptible change in the inhabitants. The Lebanese appeared as being “halfway” between the nomads of the western desert and the peasants of Greece —semi-European and semi-Oriental in dress, habits and colouring. Quite suddenly the New Zealanders found themselves in a vast amphitheatre. .The hills closed in behind them but curved away ahead in a sweeping arc oft lost in cloud and snow. These mountain ranges looked down on to the sea, enclosing an arena of heavily wooded trees and slopes, each intensely cultivated. Each prominent gave rise to a village or suburb—each an outpost of the main port of the country, a nestling on the waterfront below. BESIEGED BY HUNGRY The New Zealanders nudged into its narrow streets, each one lined with loquat, fig and citrus trees, Skirted the business area, passed the resplendant palace of French governors, and then stopped—and were immediately besieged by the hungry and the poor. That night Driver Shepherd contrived to spend a few hours in the town, and 1 although first impressions are said to

be best, perhaps experience would prove him wrong. Here are his impressions. A city of poverty, high prices and poor civil administration; a place of inertia, of despondency, a back-water thrown on to its own resources by the war and, having no free will of its own, knows not which way to turn; a town that is waiting to be rescued by whoever will do it; but a town that being concerned with its own affairs and blind to those elsewhere will not be thankful for and helpful in anything attempted or accomplished; a place which will think that the “other man” is always best; a place of sinister planning; but for all that, a city with a purpose and a future. QUARTERS OF LEGIONNAIRES Next morning took the New Zealanders winding through garden suburbs, past summer residences, impressively built of stone in bold sheer fashion, up, up, up a mountainside by a good road that vied with a twisting narrow-gauge railway, until *e panorama lay below like a little world all its own— a world of many colours and shapes and sizes, isolated-by hills but focused on the central metropolis to which all else paid homage, all except the distant sea, the void that is unknown and unknowable. On into the snow and cloud and over, the top into another world far below—a valley between two lofty ranges,- a patchwork of fields, villages, trees and orchards and pools. The railway disappeared into frequent concrete tunnels, protection against snow slides, the road edged down carefully.l The valley itself appeared not nearly so attractive now—bleak and barren. The New Zealanders were glad to take up quarters in old French Legionnaire barracks on the outskirts of the town.