The emergence of Dawnay and Hedgehog transformed the whole nature of Lawrence’s guerrilla operation from a “wild-man show” to a fully integrated part of Allenby’s conventional campaign and “removed it terrifyingly further from the sphere of joyous adventure.” The broadened military role of Lawrence’s raiders also broadened their responsibility to the total effort of the campaign. Increasingly, Allenby would count heavily on their success, and from this point further, Lawrence ceased to be a “sideshow.” It was under Dawnay’s intellectual leadership that the Arabs created their first major joint regular and irregular operation. The plan was meant to coincide with the first phase of Allenby’s operations in Palestine and had three prongs of attack. The right prong with Joyce and his armored cars would sweep over to Mudowwara and finally cut the Hejaz railway, thus isolating Medina for good. The center prong of Arab regulars under Jaafar would circle north of Maan and strangle the garrison there at the rail line. Lawrence’s leftmost prong would take the guerrillas and ride the farthest, linking up with Allenby around Es Salt. Since Lawrence would execute his move on March 30, he was free to dally a bit with Zeid and Nasir in Shobek.
Here the weather had changed considerably from the previous months, and Lawrence was able to enjoy the visit in relative comfort. He also received news from Ali ibn el Hussein el Harith at Azrak that Daud, close friend of Farraj, had died of disease. Word also came concerning the center prong of the Arab offensive under Feisal and Jaafar. Although the two leaders embraced the plan of cutting off Maan from the north, the Arab officers wanted to take the place through a direct assault. Joyce warned them that they lacked sufficient artillery and machine guns to make the attack succeed, and besides, their men were still untrained in urban combat. The main instigator was Maulud, who clamored for attaque à outrance, going so far as to write a long memo to Feisal urging this solution. Joyce continued to press his advice, but suddenly he was stricken with pneumonia and sent down to Suez. Next, Dawnay came over urgently to argue the case from the boot-polished staff position, but by then it was too late: the Arab cocktail of tribal honor and testosterone seized rational thought, thus ending the argument.
If the Arab army lacked the argument, they did, however, possess the military means to make the attempt, though in no manner were they a professional force: “In the regular Arab Army there was no power of punishment whatever: this vital difference showed itself in all our troops. They had no formality of discipline; there was no insubordination. Service was active; attack always imminent … men recognized the duty of defeating the enemy. For the rest they were not soldiers, but pilgrims, intent always to go the little farther.” As a leader, Lawrence was willing to make practical compromises with his men, seeing the fundamental difference between conventional, reflexive discipline born and enforced during peacetime and its irregular variant, reflective discipline, whose utility emerged during war itself. Discipline was a “stamp” that marked the peacetime recruit as a regular soldier but also “stamped” him into a conventional box of reliability and expectation. Guerrilla warfare, on the other hand, always demanded a kind of mental “trip wire” for self-reflection and reevaluation, because unconventional operations were in a constant state of dynamic emergence, subject to immediate review and challenge.
Perhaps because of his personal crisis after Tafileh, Lawrence considered another aspect of discipline beyond its role in normalizing corporate action and group reliability. Discipline had a binding effect on the human will to victory. In a modern, protracted war, discipline, like all the other military virtues, began a fundamental erosion: “Discipline was modified, supported, even swallowed up by an eagerness of the man to fight. This eagerness it was which brought victory in the moral sense, and often in the physical sense, of the combat. War was made up of crises of intense effort. For psychological reasons commanders wished for the least duration of this maximum effort: not because the men would not try to give it—usually they would go on till they dropped—but because each such effort weakened their remaining force. Eagerness of this kind was nervous, and, when present in high power, it tore apart flesh and spirit.… The Arab Army, born and brought up in the fighting line, had never known a peace-habit, and was not faced with problems of maintenance till armistice-time: then it failed signally.”2
THE LATE WINTER brought essential changes to the two opposing sides in several fundamental ways. For Allenby, the capture of Jerusalem validated his command style as a generous but hard-driving taskmaster little willing to countenance incompetent subordinates. Among the local Arabs he had achieved almost biblical stature. The Arab rendering of his name, Allenby—“Allah en Nebi”—meant “the Prophet of God.” By an extraordinary stroke of fate, he decided to enter Jerusalem on foot, fulfilling a Muslim prophecy that a holy man from the West would thus enter the holy city and free the Arabs from the Turks. Former inspector general of British cavalry, Allenby was beginning to appreciate the opportunities for mobile operations in the Palestine theater, and his campaign designs began to embrace maneuver warfare as its chief planning cornerstone. Field Marshal Earl Wavell of World War II fame, who served on Allenby’s staff, regarded “the Bull” as the best British general of World War I.
As for the Turks, the beating administered them through the fall and winter had destroyed the entire offensive capability of their ground forces. In February 1918, the Turkish high command facing the British was shaken up and reorganized. The Yilderim (“Lightning”) Army Group consisted of the Turkish Seventh and Eighth Armies, commanded by General Erich von Falkenhayn, who was sacked and replaced by General Otto Liman von Sanders, the victor of Gallipoli. Like Allenby, Liman was a horse soldier and loathed incompetency. His experience at Gallipoli taught him the power of a stubborn defense, but he turned this quality into a deficit by failing to recognize that every defensive position had a limited shelf life and every good defensive commander had to know when that life had expired. By most accounts, he was a “corpulent and charming gentleman” with wide political contacts throughout the Ottoman Empire. He was also the first real German commander to understand the psychology of the Turkish soldier, after having spent many months training him. He especially understood the resentment among the Turkish officer corps toward the many German leaders placed among the Turkish General Staff. Liman’s first action was to replace German officers with Turkish officers, helping to restore confidence among the officer corps and eliminating unnecessary conflict among the staff. His initial arrival rejuvenated the flagging morale of the beaten Turks and animated them with a new sense of purpose and optimism.
Allenby began the operation to link up with Lawrence and the Arabs on February 19. Moving into the eastern Judean Hills brought very slow progress, for here the British encountered some of the worst terrain in the entire theater. The flank above the Jordan dropped precipitously toward the edge of the river and was dominated by ridges and steep ravines. Artillery batteries often took thirty-six hours to travel eight miles over the tortuous terrain. Despite these difficulties, Jericho was captured on February 21. The constricted nature of the terrain, however, prevented a complete and immediate breakout across the Jordan and an attack on Amman thirty miles to the northeast of Jericho. A lot of tactical “to-ing and fro-ing” had to take place before a sizable penetration could be achieved. Finally, on the night of March 21, at the same moment the Germans began their massive offensive on the western front, British troops began crossing the Jordan. But again mountainous terrain and bad weather intervened with heavy rains, causing difficulties in expanding the bridgehead. On March 25, men slogged and fought their way into Es Salt and reached Amman on the morning of March 27. During these delays, Liman von Sanders was able to reinforce the seriously weakened Amman garrison by rushing down troops on rail from Damascus and by redeploying troops from the recent recapture of Tafileh with as many as nineteen thousand men. For four days the British struggled to seize Amman, and all the while they controlled the key rail line passing through the area—yet they did
nothing to damage it.
Lawrence called this failure “unpardonable carelessness,” failing to break a single foot of rail line. The “raid” ended on April Fools’ Day with the British forced to retrace their steps across the muddy Jordan Valley toward Jericho. From Allenby’s perspective, the failure had the saving grace in creating in Liman von Sanders’s mind an impression that the main effort of the British forces was being directed at Deraa and Damascus. The Allies captured a thousand prisoners but suffered as many casualties. Furthermore, the advance created an outpouring of hope among the civilians that was soon dashed during the retreat. The Turks, following in the wake of Allenby’s withdrawal, used the subsequent opportunity to identify and punish the politically awakened Arabs.
AT THE SAME time, Lawrence continued to support the original plan, unaware of the British difficulties. After gathering his bodyguard, he left Aba el Lissan on April 2 with a caravan of two thousand baggage camels carrying enough gear to equip ten thousand guerrillas for an entire month and ignorant of the fact that the English had retreated from Amman two days earlier. On April 6, he reached Atara, where several wells were located southeast of Amman. According to the original plan, Lawrence with his supply caravan was to meet up with the Beni Sakhr and move westward to set up a main camp at Es Salt. From here, with the help of British cavalry, the entire force would move north against Madeba. As Lawrence was organizing the Arabs, conflicting messages flew about: first that Amman had been captured, then that the British were “falling back,” and finally that they were fleeing from Es Salt. To clarify the situation, Lawrence sent out his trusty scout Adhub to the British headquarters. Adhub returned with bad news: the Turks were in control of Es Salt and were hanging the local Arabs, who had openly greeted the British. There was now fear that the Turks might even go on to recapture Jerusalem.
Lawrence was thoroughly confused and embarrassed by the sudden turn of events. Allenby’s plan seemed feasible and easily executed. What could have gone wrong? Now he and the British had lost esteem in the eyes of the Arabs, while Turkish stock had soared under their new German commander. While trying to determine a new course of action, Lawrence conducted a personal reconnaissance of the city dressed as a gypsy. He realized just how strong the garrison had grown and determined that Allenby’s original mission had indeed become impossible. The question now was, what to do? Lawrence decided to rejoin Feisal at Maan and perhaps reinforce him with the Indian machine-gun company wasting away at Azrak. Maan was one hundred twenty miles south of Amman.
Lawrence headed for Maan around April 11 with his small bodyguard. Along the way, he encountered a squad of Turks checking over the railway. The younger men of Lawrence’s entourage wanted to assault the Turks immediately, while he cautioned restraint. When they began to gripe, he relented and they attacked instantly. The older men advanced in a wide arc, attempting to outflank the enemy, who had rushed for cover in a culvert. The sullen Farraj, still despondent from the loss of his friend Daud, charged directly at the position, and when he reached the embankment the enemy loosed a volley, whereupon he seemed to fly off his camel, disappearing into the undergrowth. After dispensing with the Turks, they all ran over to the embankment and found Farraj near his camel, shot through the stomach and back. A dead Turk was lying nearby, staring glassily at the wounded Arab. Farraj seemed dead, but when the men dismounted he greeted his comrades softly. In an instant a hush fell upon them: Farraj seemed to peer beyond the horizon and to withdraw within the last vestiges of his existence, “sunken in that loneliness which came to hurt men who believed death near.” El Zaagi quietly told Lawrence that Farraj had just a few more hours to live. The men gathered around him and tried to stop his life’s blood from seeping away into the sand. And as the red pool grew larger, they attempted to carry him away in his blanket, but the damage to his shattered spine was too great and he let out a piercing, heartrending scream. The raiders continued to fumble with him, and he finally asked to be set down and left alone, “for he was dying, and happy to die, since he had no care for life. Indeed, for long he had been so [since Daud’s death], and men very tired and sorry often fell in love with death, with that triumphal weakness coming home after strength has been vanquished in a last battle.”
Just then, Abd el Latif, one of Lawrence’s bodyguards, yelled a warning. About a thousand yards up the line, he could see a detachment of Turks pacing an armored trolley in the raiders’ direction. Farraj’s agony could not stand any hasty movement, so now the ancient pledge was invoked: Leave no prisoner to a brutal enemy. His bodyguard had willingly embraced the old oath, but Lawrence never imagined the burden of Farraj’s death would fall upon him. He crouched down next to the dying man, hiding his Webley in the folds of his robe. In an instant, Lawrence recalled all the petty punishments he had delivered Farraj and Daud since the early days of Aqaba; now he was about to relieve Farraj of the final punishment and deliver him into glory. He looked down at the dying Farraj, who suddenly “opened his eyes and clutched me with his harsh, scaly hand, the tiny hand of these unripe Nejd fellows.” Lawrence paused, knowing that Farraj had guessed his purpose. The desert air seemed to stir and then to whisper: “Darkness … darkness … darkness.” An old, familiar smile blossomed on Farraj’s ashen lips. “Daud will be angry with you,” he murmured.
“Salute him for me,” Lawrence replied.
In a moment, as if to gather his final strength, Farraj said hoarsely, “Allah will give you peace.” He closed his eyes, and then Lawrence covered Farraj’s face with his bloody head scarf. After a pause Lawrence pulled the trigger, saluting Farraj with a bullet’s song carried upon a chorus of wind.
BY NOW THE advancing Turks were very near, spraying machine-gun slugs among the mourners. The bodyguard wrapped Farraj in his blanket and shuffled hastily to the camels. Already as they rode off, they were murmuring over the best way to divide his belongings, especially Farraj’s splendid camel. El Zaagi coveted the beast for himself. They camped at nightfall, and Lawrence’s anger rose as his grief subsided: “I was bitter that these perfected dead had again robbed my poverty; and to cheapen the great loss with a little one I shot the poor beast with my second bullet.”3 When supper came they all feasted on Farraj’s camel, his final comrade’s legacy to share and share alike.
In the morning they rode out and stumbled across the Indians, still as inept at desert riding as when first they’d joined the Arabs. Lawrence helped them reload their camels and retie their sliding saddles. Finally, at sunset they were regroomed and moved off on their own under Hassan Shah, their gear and harnesses creaking and jingling into the sunset, observed by a lone cowering jackal. Lawrence pushed on toward Maan and Feisal; riding through the night, he heard the distant, muffled crump of artillery fire and saw the twinkling lights of artillery flares off in the distance. Next day, they passed through glimmering clouds of locusts beating their glinting wings against the heat of the day. The season had suddenly changed, causing Lawrence to reflect that he was now commencing his seventh straight summer in the desert.
They approached the mound surrounding Maan called Semna. A party of litter bearers was coming down the slope with a heavy load when one of the carriers gestured with a toss of his head and said, “Maulud Pasha.”
Lawrence leapt off his camel and ran up, crying, “Is Maulud hit?” He was one of the most competent regular officers in Feisal’s army. A man of the old school: honest and wise, direct, stalwart. He had been hit by shrapnel that shattered his leg above the knee. It would likely need amputation, if gangrene didn’t kill him first.
The old lion, so small in the large litter, replied weakly: “Yes, indeed, Lurens Bey, I am hurt but thanks be to Allah, it is nothing. We have taken Semna.” Despite the severe injury, he was proud of his military accomplishment outside of Maan. He leaned out of the litter, pointing out to Lawrence the key deployments he himself had made on Semna ridge. Lawrence then bade a hasty farewell and went to find Nuri Said, who had succeeded the wounded Maulud. Lawrence foun
d Nuri positioned on a nearby hilltop just as Turkish artillery began to lob a desultory, poorly targeted barrage. As he spoke with Nuri, intelligence reports began to arrive from positions north and south of Maan: Jaafar had destroyed three thousand rails above the town, and the night before, Nuri had smashed the Ghadir el Haj station below Maan, wrecked its five bridges, and torn up a thousand rails. The Hejaz line would be useless for weeks. With the news, Lawrence hurried to the temporary field hospital to look in on Maulud. He found him under the care of a red-bearded doctor, Mahmud, who reassured Lawrence that the old warrior would survive without amputation. Much relieved, Lawrence went off to find Feisal, whom he spotted in the distance, etched black against the burning sun. As he approached closer, the prince’s headband glittered brightly like a halo, even through the ever-present cigarette smoke. The sound of Lawrence’s camel pulled Feisal from his reverie and he offered his hands to the Englishman, saying, “Please Allah, good [news]?”
Lawrence said, “The praise and the victory be to Allah.” Feisal threw down his cigarette and grinned broadly, bundling Lawrence into his nearby headquarters tent. Here they exchanged the latest news. It was clear from the discussion that Feisal, in close contact with Dawnay, had the most up-to-date information. The emir was especially anxious to discuss his army and its new role in the reframed plan. Feisal explained the revised task organization of the Arab Northern Army, which fell under his command. It now consisted of four subordinate units: (1) the Arab regular army: a brigade of infantry, a battalion of mule-mounted infantry, a battalion of Egyptian Camel Corps, and a section of eight infantry guns; (2) the British detachment (commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel C. P. Joyce—still in the hospital with pneumonia): the Hejaz Armored Car Battery (three Rolls-Royce cars with mounted machine guns and two ten-pounder [2.75-inch, 70 mm] mountain guns mounted on Talbot trucks, a company of Egyptian Camel Corps, a flight of four airplanes, and logistical units; (3) the French detachment (commanded by Captain Rosario Pisani): two mountain guns, four machine guns, and ten automatic rifles; (4) the Arab irregular detachment (commanded by Major T. E. Lawrence): Ageyli bodyguard, various Bedouin and peasant formations as needed. The force was reorganized into three tactical columns: a center column under Maulud, reinforced by Auda abu Tayi’s horse-mounted irregulars; a northern column under Jaafar, also of Arab regulars; a southern column under direct command of Alan Dawnay, comprising most of the ailing Joyce’s force with additional Bedouin reinforcements. The French detachment was in reserve with Feisal along with his bodyguard. Lawrence learned the details of the fight for Maan thus far: Ghadir el Haj was the nearest station south of Maan and was seized successfully by Maulud on the night of April 11, the day before Lawrence’s arrival. Jaafar had just stormed Jerdun, the station immediately to the north of the town. Dawnay with his southern column was at Guweira, readying to strike the Mudowwara station sixty miles farther down the line from Maan.
Guerrilla Leader Page 28