Guerrilla Leader

by James Schneider

  At length, Nuri agreed to cover Lawrence’s advance closer to the bridge. Before moving to get a closer inspection of the blockhouse, he gave Hemeid his camel and told him to go back to the camp and return with the shirkers. He informed Hemeid that if they didn’t join him at the bridge, they would face a wrath greater than death. At that, Hemeid lunged away with the two camels, happy to get off the ridgetop unscathed.

  While Lawrence was examining the structure of the bridge in the waning light, the two leaders of his bodyguard raced down: Abdullah, the Robber, and el Zaagi. Both were apologetic and furious at the unfortunate lapse of military virtue displayed by the others and now eagerly sought redemption. The two gathered up demolition charges and blasting caps and with Lawrence headed toward the nearest bridge abutment. The abutments were five feet thick and almost twenty-five feet high. They quickly stacked dynamite against the structures, while Nuri and his men covered them from his higher position. After the charges were laid, Nuri’s Arabs began a retreat toward Umtaiye a few miles to the east. The withdrawal of Nuri’s troops to a place of safety from the blast seemed interminably long: Lawrence and his sappers were waiting underneath the bridge, where a sudden sally by the Turks from the other side would easily seal their fate. Lawrence had cut six-inch fuses that would offer a thirty-second burn. If the enemy suddenly advanced, he would have to light the fuses immediately, whether or not Nuri and his men got away.

  After nearly an hour of waiting, Nuri fired a flare that cracked open the night sky, signaling he had gotten to safety. Lawrence quickly rechecked the eight hundred pounds of explosives, lit the fuses, and ran with the others into the shelter of the abandoned bridge redoubt. At that instant, the whole earth recoiled and lifted the bridge from its pier, raining boulders and debris on Lawrence’s position. The titanic concussion knocked out Lawrence and his fellows. Their last moment of consciousness was a collage of dust, shock … and joy, for Lawrence had just destroyed his seventy-ninth bridge and, strategically, one of his most important.

  Soon Lawrence awoke—or, rather, was awakened by a heavy yet gentle hand. He looked up, peering through dancing stars in a snow globe of confusion and concussion, to see the face of … God. The stars quickly settled and a mortal Nuri squinted back, his bearded visage coming alive in a tobacco-stained grin.

  LAWRENCE’S BAND REJOINED the main column and rested the night near Umtaiye, just off the rail line. But sleep did not come easily, for all through the night more visitors continued to wander into the encampment. The Arab fighters had had little sleep the last three nights and were now subjects of slavering oaths of fealty from the native peasants. However, some of these peasants seemed disheartened, different from those at Mezerib. Some sort of discontent had shattered their initial enthusiasm, and it seemed to emanate especially from the village of Taiyibe. Apparently, the settlement had gotten into a shooting scuffle with Joyce’s armored cars the day before. After a chat with Nasir, Lawrence decided to ride directly and unannounced into Taiyibe and settle the situation. They arrived at the sheikh’s tent well after midnight just as a major confab was taking place among the elders. Fearing the chance encounter with Joyce would now escalate into full-scale hostility, the peasants were debating whether or not to approach the Turks for mercy and protection. The sudden arrival of Lawrence with armed men decided the matter, as it became clear to the headmen that the Turks were a losing horse, and despite yesterday’s unfortunate incident, backing the Arab cause would be in the villagers’ own best interest. After an hour of tea and idle conversation, the sheikhs vowed to support the revolt.

  Lawrence returned to his bivouac just before dawn to try to steal some sleep. As he dozed off, a large explosion shook him awake. The Turks had just sent down from Deraa an armored train carrying a field gun. This intrusion sent the entire camp scurrying into action out of range of the piece. Up above, an airplane was spotting for the train and dealing an accurate, observed fire on the Arabs, killing two of the camels. The plane then suddenly slewed out of the air to land. With its “eyes” gone, the cannon began pounding the nearby village of Taiyibe with fifty well-placed rounds until its ammunition ran out and the train withdrew.

  At that moment, Joyce returned with the armored cars. Lawrence informed him of the suspicious landing that might indicate an airfield nearby. After a quick breakfast—their first in days—Joyce and Lawrence with Junor in the second car went off on the hunt. They drove five miles over rugged terrain and entered a still valley where the aircraft appeared to have landed. The drivers turned off their engines and began to coast quietly down into the canyon about a thousand yards from the railway. The path bent into a small meadow, where they discovered a covey of three Turkish aircraft. Astonished to find their quarry, they fired up the engines and raced to get into machine-gun range. Unfortunately, a direct path to the enemy was blocked by a deep and impassable ravine, forcing them to drive a course tangent to the aircraft. At about twelve hundred yards they were spotted, and two of the planes made a dash to escape. The cars immediately began plastering them with fire, but the range was too great for accuracy, so the fliers made good their getaway. The third bird wasn’t so lucky: its balky engine refused to start, probably the reason it had landed in the first place. The crew tried valiantly to get the engine fired up but were eventually driven off by the machine guns. As the gunners found the range, the plane went into a shuddering dance as it was hit repeatedly by fifteen hundred rounds of .303-caliber ammo. Satisfied that the sieved fuselage was useless, Lawrence and the two cars drove off. As they left the valley, they heard a muffled explosion and turned back to see black smoke billowing from the wreckage.

  The two lucky planes went back to Deraa to rearm and refuel and soon returned to become the hunters, seeking out Lawrence and his cars. The planes found their targets, and each began dropping a string of four bombs on the vehicles. A near miss blew off the front tire of the lead vehicle. Despite the damage, all returned safely to Umtaiye, where Lawrence was soon fast asleep under one of the armored cars. Although a desultory bombing continued throughout the rest of the afternoon, it failed to rouse him from his deep slumber.

  When at last he did awaken, Lawrence’s first thought concerned the vulnerability of the Arabs to air attack. The Turks had at least a full squadron of planes operating against him, probably eight or nine aircraft. The constant bombing and strafing was beginning to unnerve the Arab irregulars, and he knew that without his guerrilla raiders, the entire Arab army would be blind. What was clear was that Lawrence would have to see Allenby and request sufficient air cover to save his force. It was now September 18. If he left immediately, he could be back by September 22 and resume the drive on Damascus. The force could continue their cat-and-mouse game until he returned. Yet at the same time, the Arabs must still exercise some positive initiative and maintain their freedom maneuver through continuous attacks against the Turks.

  For now, the rail line into Deraa from the north and the line leaving town to the west had both been cut. The track to the south needed attention next. The bridge at point 149 was already repaired and had to be struck again. A site just farther to the south had to be severed as well, so that repair parties couldn’t come up from the south to reach the bridge and restore it. The first task was for Nuri’s regulars. Lawrence would take his bodyguard and strike the second location.

  Still, a further question lingered. The incident at the Shehab bridge made it evident that the morale of his private bodyguard was shattered. And while Lawrence was away that morning hunting Turkish airplanes, Abdullah and el Zaagi had administered a heavy dose of Bedouin punishment. This only made the men more fearful, lowering their morale even further. Lawrence had self-styled his bodyguard as a model of the Persian Immortals of antiquity, so-called because the guard maintained a constant strength, with each loss being replaced immediately with new blood. Lawrence’s personal force had been stable at ninety men, but over the last several months sixty had been killed. Now the constant attrition was rendering h
is bodyguard virtually ineffective and beyond his abilities as a tactical leader to rally them.

  Lawrence would have to discuss the situation with Nasir and Nuri: the air cover issue, the continuous bombing of Taiyibe, and the moral collapse of his retainers. During the brief council of war, a reframing emerged: Lawrence would personally request air support from Allenby; meanwhile, any village that had suffered damage from Turkish air attacks would be recompensed in English gold and in gratitude for its loyalty; and Lawrence’s bodyguard would stand down and recover its honor.

  There still remained the task to support the demolition of the bridge at point 149. Denied employment of his bodyguard, Lawrence chose Junor with his Ford and one of the armored cars. The mission quickly turned into a fiasco. Without the pathfinding skills of his retainers, Lawrence’s party became hopelessly lost in a maze of canyons and wandered about the stony echo chambers for three hours. Finally, they heard Peake’s demolition at point 149 and drove to the sound, discovering a train hastily backing away from the destruction. Lawrence’s group opened up with machine guns; the Turks rejoined with an ineffectual fire from the train. At that moment, however, one of the enemy had perhaps the luckiest day of his life. A lottery ticket shot struck the only unarmored portion of the armored car. A bullet hit a rock and then ricocheted upward into the belly of the car, puncturing the gas tank. The round just as easily could have pierced Lawrence between the eyes. It took an hour to repair the hole, and with dawn breaking, the hapless mission was scrubbed.

  THE DETACHMENT ARRIVED back at Azrak in early afternoon. During the return, Lawrence was able to snatch three hours of dreamless sleep following the abortive night mission. At Azrak he found Feisal and Nuri Shaalan waiting to hear the latest news, which Lawrence was able to provide, speaking well into the evening. After daybreak the next day, an aircraft arrived with the first news of Allenby’s astonishing victory. He had smashed through the Turkish defense as through a house of cards. After making the stunning proclamation, the pilot was about to head back to GHQ in Ramleh. Lawrence seized the opportunity to fly back as well and confer with Allenby.

  After reaching Ramleh, Lawrence immediately went to Allenby’s headquarters. Afterward Lawrence described the meeting: “There I found the great man unmoved, except for the light in his eye as [Louis] Bols [chief of staff] bustled in every fifteen minutes, with news of some wider success. Allenby had been so sure, before he started, that to him the result was almost boredom: but no general, however scientific, could see his intricate plan carried out over an enormous field in every particular with complete success, and not know an inward gladness: especially when he felt it (as he must have felt it) a reward of the breadth and judgment which made him conceive such unorthodox movements; and break up the proper book of his administrative services to suit them; and support them by every moral and material asset, military or political, within his grasp.”4

  Now Allenby roused himself from his moment of self-reflection and, taking Lawrence by the elbow, strode over to the large operations map mounted on the wall. The advancing red arrows showed the true magnitude of Allenby’s success better than words could describe. And there was more punishment to come for the Turks: Beirut was now added to the agenda of military objectives along with Damascus. The coup de grâce would be delivered by Allenby’s swift cavalry forces: Major-General Edward Chaytor and his New Zealanders would jump the Jordan River and drive for Amman; Major-General George Barrow’s Indians would cross the Jordan farther north and thrust at Deraa; and finally, Chauvel’s Aussies would strike across the Jordan at Kuneitra near the Golan Heights. Barrow and Chauvel, after seizing their intermediate objectives, would ride on Damascus and, then, checkmate. Lawrence was to assist all three axes of attack and not seize Damascus, the crown jewel of the entire campaign, on his own hook; it was to be a combined effort. Lawrence next explained the situation with respect to air cover for the Arabs: there was none. At this Allenby rushed over to his desk and pressed a button. Almost immediately General Geoffrey Salmond, commander of British air forces in the Middle East, hustled in with his aide, Brigadier-General Amyas Borton. The presence of the air commander reminded Lawrence of another aspect of Allenby’s leadership genius: “The perfection of this man who could use infantry and cavalry and artillery and Air Force, navy and armored cars, deception and irregulars, each in its best fashion!” Lawrence reiterated the air situation to Salmond, who only smiled enigmatically and said, “So much the better.” All the enemy planes on the Palestine front had been annihilated in the air or captured on the ground during the furious advance. Salmond would now have fresh meat to grind beyond the Jordan and promised to send over a couple of Bristol fighters. Then Allenby interrupted: “I say, Salmond, how do you propose to support these devils? We have no significant refueling and rearming capability with the Arabs.”

  “Not a difficulty,” was Salmond’s response. “We’ll supply the lot by air, including the petrol.”

  Lawrence thought to himself, “Only by air? An air-contained fighting unit? Unheard of!” Even before he completed the thought, Salmond and Borton sat down with a stubby pencil and paper and worked out a logistics load table for a D.H.9 and a Handley Page. Of the scene Lawrence would later write: “Allenby sat by, listening and smiling, sure it would be done. The cooperation of the air with his unfolding scheme had been so ready and elastic, the liaison so complete and informed and quick. It was the RAF, which had converted the Turkish retreat into a rout, which had abolished their telephone and telegraph connections, had blocked their long columns, scattered their infantry units.”

  The question then emerged concerning the single Handley Page bomber, one of the largest planes flying at that time and the only one in the theater: Could it land out in the desert? Lawrence was certain it could but requested an expert’s opinion at the landing site itself. After a quick review of the bidding, the staff meeting broke up and Lawrence went off to find breakfast in the HQ garden. Soon he began to appreciate the civilized quality of Allenby’s headquarters—and it made him feel guilty: “I felt immoral, enjoying the white table-cloths, and coffee, and soldier servants, while our people at Umtaiye lay like lizards among the stones, eating unleavened bread, and waiting for the next plane to bomb them.”5 Lawrence continued to sip his fresh-brewed coffee, increasingly aware of how the garden’s fecund growth startled him with a sudden wind-driven movement; the vegetation “seemed to fidget,” unnerving him in a way the desert never did. At length he was joined by some of Allenby’s staff, who for the moment distracted his unease.

  BEFORE DAWN ON September 22, Lawrence stood by at an Australian airfield for his flight back to Umtaiye. In a few moments Ross Smith, his pilot, taxied over in the D.H.9 and Lawrence hopped aboard. Two other planes would complete the flight as well. The passage was uneventful and took about an hour. When the three planes arrived at Umtaiye, they were waved off and sent to a new bivouac at Um el Durab a few miles away. The continuous bombing had forced the displacement of the camp, and even after the relocation the Turks continued to bomb the empty campsite.

  Ross Smith examined the new landing strip and certified it serviceable for the heavy Handley Page. The sight of the three British aircraft did much to boost the morale of the Arab army. Even Lawrence’s chastened bodyguard appeared renewed, exhibiting a fresh fire in their hearts and blood in their eyes. While all were distracted by a breakfast of hot sausages, the alarm was sounded to warn of another aerial attack; this time the Germans were leading the assault. Two of the British planes were scrambled and made ready to meet the attack. Peters, one of the pilots, looked invitingly at Lawrence, as if to present him a backseat to the forthcoming dogfight. Lawrence considered the offer but in the end thought better of it: “No: I was not going up to an air-fight, no matter what caste I lost with the pilot. He was an Australian, of a race delighting in additional risks, not an Arab to whose gallery I must play.” Peters turned away and flew up into the fray. In five minutes, Smith shot down one of the German scouts, mu
ch to the exultation of the onlooking Arabs. After the rest of the Germans had been chased away, the pilots landed and resumed their meal of cold sausages and tepid tea.

  For Smith, the time at the front was growing short. He still had to return to Ramleh after shuttling the bomber over to Azrak. With that task in mind, he would fly Lawrence to Azrak and continue on to GHQ in one of the scouts. Feisal and Nuri Shaalan were waiting just as the huge beast dropped effortlessly from the sky. The Arabs were overjoyed at its arrival and at its size, saying, “Indeed and at last they have sent us the airplane, of which these smaller planes are its foals.” One of the tribesmen ran about flapping his arms, saying repeatedly, “The biggest plane in the world!” Before dark, rumor had spread throughout the entire area of the new bomber that had come to be placed under the hand of Feisal. Salmond’s chief of staff, Borton, had come along as well to help integrate the huge bomber into the Arab army. A ton of fuel was carried in the bomb racks and in the fuselage, which like some flying titan began to disgorge its cargo of spare parts for the fighters, food, medicine, letters, and communications. At nightfall, the huge plane rose from the desert, a black dragon winging its way into the setting sun toward Ramleh. There it would rearm with real bombs and begin night bombing runs on the garrisons at Deraa and Mafrak.

  Lawrence spent the rest of the evening informing Feisal and Nuri Shaalan of his recent visit to Allenby’s headquarters. The Arab army would continue to harass the Turkish Fourth Army around Amman and wait to link up with Chaytor’s New Zealanders. It was Lawrence’s view that the Turkish front had so catastrophically collapsed that Feisal’s army could be in Damascus in a week. Wrapped in a black broadcloth cloak, Nuri’s eyes lit up at the news, and he immediately offered his Ruwalla Camel Corps to support the advance. This meant that Feisal’s liberation army would now number over four thousand men, three-quarters of whom were guerrillas. Nuri’s unique brand of hard, tight leadership would be especially useful during the mad pursuit to Damascus.