Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

George Washington Thomas Lambert reminiscences, ca. 1918
MLMSS 97/4/Item 6

[Transcriber’s note: The following is a handwritten and typed version of a lecture George Lambert was asked to give of his impressions of his time in the Middle East. He speaks of the countryside and his attempts to capture his impressions in his painting.]

[Page 1]

Lambert Family Papers
George Washington Thomas Lambert

Papers re War Service, 1915-1919
First Impressions, c. 1918

[Page 2]

See page 18

[The following two paragraphs crossed through.]
In asking me to come here tonight to enjoy your hospitality you have done me great honour and by asking me to speak to give you some talk about my experiences as an official Artist for the Aust. Im. Forces in the East you rob some of the necessity to apologise for what may be to some of you rather a tedious lecturette reminiscent of Baedeker.
With a view to alleviating your miseries as listeners I propose to skim as lightly as possible over the many miles of sand & scenery which it has been my lot to travel & to record in paint & pencil.

First impressions I suppose are worth remembering because they are untinged by experience or analysis and my first impression of Alexandria was a delightful one.

[Page 3]

As we approached the buoyed channel to the Harbour the water appeared a light chalky blue the land & the city dancing in sunlight & most alluring. Space. Possibly the thought that we had escaped the fate that overtook a transport two days previously enhanced the effect, but that approach to Alexandria from the sea remains a delightful memory of colour. Cairo needs I think no word from me it has been over described. I may however suggest timidly that the glories gorgeous colour of the Orient which it has always been noted for in our guide books was more apparent to me in the gay colours of the native costume than in the general local colour of the place.

My first job was to make some small paintings of our great base camp at Moascar near Ismalia a few miles from the Suez Canal and here my first impressions again were worth recording. Miles & miles of tents and desert, thousands of sweating sunbronzed men and beautiful horses. Tents by the bye that is miles of tents out there to the artist make give a continuous

[Page 4]

Ismalia

[Page 5]

but ever changing problem in paint colour, line, & form. Ismalia a delightful little place. This camp with its teaming military life was only a few minutes walk from Ismalia on the Suez Canal a more delightful spot for an artist who likes that kind of thing that typical Egyptian colour & peoples it is hard to find for it gives many much amelioration to the dry dustiness & shut in feeling of Cairo and also of the Desert towns, for at Ismalia there is sailing on the Salt Lake, a public Garden rich in forestry rare trees & blazing with tropical flowers. The sweet water canal so called chiefly I suggest because it is not salt, runs alongside the main street or road & carries a variety of picturesque feluchas and other craft typical of the East, their cargoes frequently made up of fruits & vegetables colourful & refreshing

[Page 6]

But a number of you possibly most of you know Ismalia and I apo

cropped from the irrigated gardens which border the sweet water canal from Ismalia to Cairo & make those striking patches of lined green against the dry light sand of the desert sand beyond. Most of you possibly know Ismalia Ismalia is of course well known to the tourist and I feel I am becoming Kalaidoscopic if not Virginal. But before I cross the Canal and for your sakes gallop after the Light Horse I must mention the French Club at Ismalia where I have had one or two delightful dances

[Page 7]

where there is a delightful atmosphere of Fr

where there is occasionally quite good music, billiards & cold soda & passable whisky. I must
fair food at enhanced prices cold soda at sixpence a small bottle and bad whiskey at a cost unspeakable in fact so like the London that we have known it reminded us of London. What It was almost a custom to dissipate any small amount of back pay accumulated up the line at the French Club. And the Great Australian Thirst with its British Ally made the placed the Club on a very solid financial basis.

At Ismalia
From Ismalia I passed over the Canal at Ferry Post at that time a base for the Camel Corps.

[Page 8]

and in the minute or so that it takes the antiquated chain ferry to land one on the eastern side one should say goodbye to what is known as civilization, smash the bottle of whiskey on the rails of the pontoon, give the stolen half chicken to the black whalland, pull the Australian line of the hat further down on the forehead, let the sweat dry on the face & brace oneself for the blazing desert The the iron rations smelling of camel the strong tea smelling of camel your best friend smelling of camel & the camel smelling himself smelling like the combined by-products of a tannary & a soap Factory.

[Page 9]

A word or two about the camel may be useful may possibly be of use to some of you who by way of expiation or other motive find themselves in the desert with a camel for the only means of transport. (to the reader but don’t say read)

He is beautiful to draw & paint but he is an animal I cannot love. Never attempt to caress a camel. If he should try to caress you & he will if you are not watchful hit him with anything that is handy & heavy, the butt of the rifle, an army boot hobnailed or the Colonel’s best folding armchair. Hit him on the Jaw & hit hard. When mounting screw his neck right round until you as if you were trying to dislocate it & snub him short so that he can’t bite, his bite is fateful fatal. When on him much may be forgiven for with little urging he keeps up his not unpleasant shamble for with regularity & persistency. On dismounting revert to the original antagonistic attitude. The only bond between man & camel is mutual hate. The common bond of man & camel is undying hate.

[Page 10]

A comprehensive treatise on the camel is yet to be written. There was an Australian trooper of exceptional literary & rhetorical accomplishment who went into the matter very thoroughly describing the animal in detail, with a flow of words but and an intensity of meaning likely to make Saint Paul & the early saints turn in their honoured graves. I regret that he spoke in a tongue almost impossible to translate.

As a matter of religious observance I am forced at this point to reiterate the acknowlegement of the value of the camel as one of the important if not the most important factor in the winning of the Palestine campaign. I have personally followed & observed an endless chain of camel transport convoys 70 miles in length that is 35 miles up & 35 miles down. Allowing about 12 feet to a camel this gives us roughly thirty thousand camels on the move in one sector alone, & when one realizes that 20 would be resting & recuperating to one active it is not an

[Page 11]

mentally whip & spur

[Page 12]

exaggeration to say that during the war they Camels were as numerous in Egypt & Palestine as fleas on the bedding of the Bedouin.

In the same place with the camel
At this stage also I must mention the Egyptian labour corps though differing slightly in his mental outlook the Egyptian labourer under proper British supervision kept pace in value with the camel as an all important auxilliary.

The Gypo as we call him is was properly managed clothed fed & very well paid and in a somewhat perfunctory manner he came in for an occasional clout of the gangers whip. We of the white North already too energetic mentally whip & spur ourselves into greater efforts; the gypo with his natural indolence prefers his whipping to be done by properly appointed officials. With the stimulous of songs weird singing perfect unity of action a phisique equalling that of our finest athletes, and the aid of the whip he performed almost miracles of labour. To see a gang of Gypos shifting a length of broad gauge rails, sleepers and all is to have dispelled the mystery of their early building. Multiply the effort the railway gangs by a of a railway of a gypo railway gang

[Page 13]

and the moving of the monoliths is easy.

During their periodical cleansings they offer a fine subject. Two or three hundred I have seen formed up in rather irregular fours stark naked in the sun their yellow pink bodies telling splendidly against the background of red Palestine earth with green cactus almond trees in blossom & flowers giving decorative properties.

But now having left the Canal behind I must hurry on in the attempt to overtake the Light Horse for be it known I was considered a too luxurious branch of War records to be sent out promptly and my work was sometimes merely that of one attached to grave registration a graveyard artist instead of being carried out in & about the firing line.

Moving on to Romani one is able to study the so called Desert of Northern Sinai which stretches from the canal eastward to the border of Palestine. or the

[Page 14]

It is call
It is called Desert & we always referred to it as the Eastern desert but when one comes to observe & know it one is struck by its fertility & cleanliness. The sand is a great cleanser. The sun burns up the what that which the incinerator leaves, small bushes green in spring brown, lavender, gray in summer are dotted over the doones in fascinating pattern like unto currants in plum duff, the so-called spotted dog of the shearers mess, between the shrubs or bushes there are in due season flowers, & flowering plants, of a variety of form & colour to glad the heart of the rock garden enthusiast, blazing days but cool nights clear light lit by either moon or stars and the only worries are were lack of water sufficient water, the howling of the Jackalls the distant boom of guns to remind one that history was repeating itself & this Sinai country was again the scene of a huge military endeavour. It was my duty to make paintings of that part of the Romani

[Page 15]

where the L.H. had a very stiff encounter with the Turk. The country about Romani country becomes more & more interspersed with the remains of ancient Palm Groves which in early days probably covered the whole of Northern Sinai. Here and there a huge sand hill or mount rears up as a result of years of influence by the main winds and half buries one or more of the groves or Hods. Half way up some of these sand hills the green tops of the palms make decorative spot accompaniment to the undulating line of the almost knife edged ridge on top of the hill intensely sharp against the blue sky. It was in these useful surroundings that the scrap before mentioned took place and I complimented one of our Brigadier Generals on his selection of the site but he modestly assured me that the choice was entirely due to the persistency of the Turk and not his to his innate love of the beautiful.

A word to those who would paint this country.

[Page 16]

Leave your gay pigments at home. Approach nature with a simple palette but an extravagant love of form. The sand hills take on shapes & curves, cuts, concave, convex in an entrancing pattern interwoven sometimes here rythmically sometimes there jagged and eccentrically opposed. With all the knowledge the artist may, nay must, bring to bear he need only copy and he achieves Art – but it takes doing.

Reluctantly, leaving the delights of the desert & touching lightly on the one clean though ancient town of El Arish where I was sumptuously entertained by the Colonel & Officers of the 1st Battalion of the British West Indies Regiment I must tell you a little about Magdhaba & my journeying to this battle ground. The journey from El Arish to Magdaba is a matter of some 25 miles & camels and attendants were provided by the British Governor or Administrator of Northern Sinai, a delightful & capable Soldier under whose rule El Arish became clean & prosperous.

[In margin] El Arish, Magdhaba

[Page 17]

On the eve of our journey we made merry to some tune, swapping yarns with our hosts & partaking liberally of the unwonted but excellent refreshment more than generously provided and it was with some misgivings that I faced the journey next morning in the full blaze of the sun & shifting heat; but my early training as a horseman in Australia & my experience of celebrations at the Chelsea Arts Club stood me in good stead and I arrived that the same evening at Magdhaba fit & full of enthusiasm for work. My guide officer, a major of one of the Light Horse Brigades fared not so well. He was a teetotaller, had a large if not stout body that overflowed the camel’s saddle, he hated camel riding, he disliked scenery, he had a contempt for artists almost charactaristic of the perfect soldier and he landed in a disgr sore disgruntled pessimist.

[Page 18]

My enthusiasm of the next few days didn’t help him any as the Americans say, for I raved about the beauty of the place & painted with a speed never before achieved dragging him round about the place in the heat and insisting that he should not only admire the beauties of nature but especially my interpretation of it. At Magdhaba one comes up against literally the first real solid mountain which beginning the contours existing between seen by our troops in their progress from the canal eastward. It will always be a regret that my duties prevented me from getting a nearer view & closer acquaintanceship with its beauty. On the way back we halted half way to rest & water our camels at a small water hole the last reminder that the remaining remains last of the waters that only a month before had flooded the river or wadi & swept over some miles of flats down to El Arish and into the Mediterranean. At the halt halting place I made a little painting about six inches by four on a maple panel with oil paint & very small sable brushes, of the sand hills on the Laffan side of the Wadi El Arish. This little painting I hold to be my most sincere and successful effort. It was painted in

[Page 19]

heat of the day, a breathless heat, that made the camels ly lie down and look even sorrier more sorry for themselves than usual. Myrids Miriads of flies seeing both my hands busily engaged settled down and enjoyed the an almost interrupted feast on the perspiration that literally saturated every stitch of my uniform including leggings & boots. Despite these difficulties and that curse of the Official Artist the sense of hurry caused by having to work to military schedule I accomplished my six in. by four inch masterpiece. If you would very much like to see it you must go to Australia where it now has housing, under an indiscriminating Government but although Australia is a young country there are other attractions & now that London is become overcrowded there is yet another reason for me to induce you to undertake the pilgrimage.

Raafa
The battle of Raafa as you must have read many times by now, brought the British troops to the promised land. The early Israalites you will remember dogded this direct route possibly on account of the fighting strength of the Philistines and wandered off

[Page 20]

and got lost for forty years coming into the promised land at the top end from the Moab range.

At Raafa where the New Zealanders gave a dashing & brilliant finish to the splendid achievements of all British troops engaged, there are many points of interest archaeological, historical & artistic, I mention briefly the well which the Engineers opened up hoisting to the present level of the surface huge marble columns which are said to be part of an ancient Roman Temple & baths. But the feature that most impressed the Dominion & Commonwealth troops was the beginning of the end of the desert the increasing fertility of the soil and the natural grass feed for the Horses.

Gaza I suppose must be mentioned if only to voice again on befor behalf of the Australian & N. Zealand troops their admiration and reverence for the achievements of their fellows in arms the British infantry. But my intention is to cut out the military and the horrors, also the political side of affairs that are past. I only mention the assaults on Gaza as equalling being equal to anything

[Page 21]

in the history of the gallantry & spirit of sacrifice achieved by British troops. Later on it was my pleasure to receive hospitality from one of our Brigadier Generals and attend a race meeting on the site of this battle, what time the line had moved on into the Judean hills and many troops chiefly cavalry were resting. The races at Gaza equal in my mind any meeting one can mention. Blood horses, trained to a hair, materialized in a mysterious manner, riders rode in colours not unfamiliar to those who attend race meetings in this country England. Every yard of the three mile course was visible from the natural Grand Stand of a greena bright day that made me assume the fatalistic attitude of the soldier “Here today – gone tomorrow, but let’s have a good time while we can". That day I did no painting.

At Beersheba where a great outflanking of the Turks was performed my work was very arduous, consisting of surveys, topographical records in pencil & actually riding over the very trenches where, a short time previously, a brigade of Light Horse did spectacular & useful work. Even the most willing & well bred horse dislikes jumping trenches & when the trenches were filled with Turks with bayonets fixed it will give you some idea of the force with which the charge

[Page 22]

was carried through when I tell you that the casualties were infinitesimal. A great incentive was the desire to capture as many Turks as possible & see what there was in Beersheba in the way of refreshment & any other trifle to be had for the taking. I do not say loot. It was about this time that the horses achieved a record for powers of endurance – going without water for about fifty hours. This record was beaten later on in the campaign.

From now onwards, the country promises more & more the number of gardens increases, attractive Arab villages surmount the knolls, the roofs of the mud houses frequently shewing a green crop of barley – the said Arab or Bedouin villages are attractive enough from the pictorial point of view, from the outside, but more intimate acquaintance leaves a bad smell in the nostrils & necessitates a liberal use of flea powder. Fortunately the Bedouin parasite has homing instincts & will, if given fair play abandon the succulent white man for to return to the bronzed Bedouin, his first love. A passing hand shake to the Jewish colonies, about near which we camped about eight miles from Jaffa. My head still buzzes at the memory of the excellent but young wine which we there imbibed in large quantities. Without being political, I think that these examples of the recrudescence of the Jewish race in Palestine are making a valiant attempt to subdue their natural instinct for trading & finance merely & to pursue

[Page 23]

the humbler & healthier if less profitable calling of agriculture. The climb up the Judeaen hills up to Jerusalem is a feast for the mind, a great trial to the body of the man but still greater for his horse. Looking back for a moment, one realizes the richness of the foothills & the long stretch of agricultural soil that makes up what is known as the Philistine plain. It was a shock, but an amusing one to learn that the rich crops from the lands about Ramleh & Lud had been for a long time given over to the cultivation of a special kind of barley for a well known Scotch distillery.

Jerusalem
The Good Samaritan
Jericho Valley
Damascus
Anatolia

[Page 24]

Gallipoli
Back to Cairo

[The following pages are a revision of the previous pages, excluding part of Page 22 and all of Page 23.]

[Page 25]

1918

First impressions I suppose are worth remembering because they are untinged by experience or analysis and my first impression of Alexandria was a delightful one. I can still visualize pleasurably & realistically.

As we approached the buoyed channel to the harbour the water appeared a light chalky blue, the land and the city dancing in sunlight, and - most alluring.

[Page 26]

Possibly the thought that we had escaped the fate that overtook a transport two days previously enhanced the effect, but that approach to Alexandria from the sea remains is a delightful memory of colour. Cairo needs, I think, no word from me; it has been over-described; I may, however, suggest timidly that the gorgeous colour of the Orient which it has always been noted for in our guide books, was more apparent to me in the gay colour of the native costume than in the general local colour of the place.

My first job was to make some small paintings of our great base camp at Moascar near Ismalia a few miles from the Suez Canal (and here my first impressions again were worth recording). Miles and miles of tents and desert, thousands of sweating, sunbronzed men and beautiful horses. The Tents, by the bye, that is, the miles of tents out there give to the artist a continuous but ever changing problem in colour, line, and form. [Comment in the margin alongside the last two sentences.] “Polish".

This camp with its teeming military life, was only a few minutes walk from Ismalia on the Suez Canal. A more delightful post spot for an artist who likes typical Egyptian colour and peoples it is would be hard to find, for it gives much amelioration to the dry dustiness and shut in feeling of Cairo and also to the desert towns, for at Ismalia there is sailing on the Salt Lake, a public garden rich in rare trees, ablaze with tropical flowers. The sweet water canal, so called chiefly, I suggest, because it is not salt, runs alongside the main street or road and carries a variety of picturesque feluccas and other craft typical of the East, their

[Page 27]

cargoes frequently made up of fruits and vegetables, colourful and refreshing, cropped from the irrigated gardens which border the sweet water canal from Ismalia to Cairo and make those striking patches of lurid livid green against the dry, light desert sand beyond. Ismalia is, of course, well known to the tourist and I feel I am becoming kaleidoscopic. if not Virginal. But before I cross the Canal and for your sakes gallop after the Light Horse I must mention the French Club at Ismalia, where I have had one or two delightful dances; where there is occasionally quite good music; billiards; fair food at enhanced prices; cold soda at sixpence a small bottle and bad whiskey at a cost unspeakable; in fact it reminded us of London. It was almost a custom to dissipate any small amount of back pay accumulated up the line at the French Club. And the Great Australian Thirst with its British Ally placed the Club on a very solid financial basis.

From Ismalia I passed over the Canal at Ferry Post, at that time a base for the Camel Corps, and in the minute or so that it takes the antiquated chain Ferry to land one on the eastern side one should say goodbye to what is known as civilization, smash the bottle of whiskey on the rails of the pontoon, give the stolen half chicken to the black whalland, pull the brim of the hat further down on the forehead, let the sweat dry on the face and brace oneself for the blazing desert, the iron ration smelling of camel, the strong tea smelling of camel, your best friend smelling of

[Page 28]

camel and the camel himself smelling like the combined by-products of a tannery and a soap Factory.

A word or two about the camel may possibly be of use to some of those who, by way of expiation or from other motives, find themselves in the desert with one of these animals as the only means of transport.

He is beautiful to draw and paint but he is an animal one cannot love. Never attempt to caress a camel. If he should try to caress you, and he will if you are not watchful, hit him with anything that is handy and heavy; the butt of the rifle; an army boot hobnailed or the Colonel’s best armchair. Hit him on the jaw and hit hard. When mounting screw his neck right round as if you were trying to dislocate it and snub him short so that he cannot bite. His bite is fatal. When on him much may be forgiven for with little urging he keeps up his not unpleasant shamble with regularity and persistence. On dismounting revert to the original antagonistic attitude. The common bond of man and camel is undying hate. A comprehensive treatise on the camel is yet to be written. There was an Australian trooper of exceptional literary and rhetorical accomplishment who went into the matter very thoroughly, describing the animal in detail with a flow of words and an intensity of meaning likely to make Saint Paul and the early saints turn in their honoured graves. I regret that he spoke in tongue almost impossible to translate.

[Page 29]

As a matter of religious observance I am forced at this point to reiterate the acknowledgement of the value of the camel as one of the important, if not the most important, factors in the winning of the Palestine campaign. I have personally followed and observed an endless chain of camel transport convoys 70 miles in length, that is 35 miles up and 35 miles down. Allowing about twelve feet to a camel this gives us roughly thirty thousand camels on the move in one sector alone, and when one realizes that 20 would be resting and recuperating to one active working it is not an exaggeration to say that during the war camels were as numerous in Egypt and Palestine as fleas on the bedding of the Bedouin.

(At this stage) I must mention also the Egyptian labour corps. Though differing slightly in his mental outlook the Egyptian labourer, under proper British supervision, kept pace in value with the camel as an all important auxiliary.

The Gypo, as we call him, was properly managed, clothed, fed and very well paid and in a somewhat perfunctory manner he came in for an occasional clout of the ganger’s whip. We of the white North, already too energetic, mentally whip and spur ourselves into greater efforts; the Gypo, with his natural indolence, prefers his whipping to be done by properly appointed officials. With the stimulus of weird singing, perfect unity of action, a physique equalling that of our finest athletes, and the aid of the whip he performed almost miracles of labour. To see a gang of

[Page 30]

Gypos shifting a length of broad gauge, sleepers and all, is to have dispelled the mystery of their early buildings. Multiply the effort of a Gypo railway gang and the moving of the monoliths is easy.

During their periodical cleansings they offer a fine subject. Two or three hundred I have seen formed up in rather irregular fours, stark naked in the sun, their yellow pink bodies telling splendidly against the background of red Palestine earth, with green cactus, almond trees in blossom and flowers giving decorative properties.

But now having left the Canal behind I must hurry on in the attempt to overtake the Light Horse, for be it known I was considered a too luxurious branch of War Records to be sent out promptly and my work was sometimes merely that of a graveyard artist instead of being carried out or about the firing line. Moving on to Romani one is able to study the so called desert of Northern Sinai, which stretches from the Canal eastwards to the border of Palestine. It is called desert and we always referred to it as the Eastern desert, but when one comes to observe and know it one is struck by its fertility and cleanliness. The sand is a great cleanser; the sun burns up that which the incinerator leaves; small bushes, green in spring, brown, lavender, grey in summer, are dotted over the dunes in fascinating pattern like unto currants in plum duff, the so called spotted dog of the shearer’s

[Page 31]

mess; between the shrubs and bushes there are, in due season, (flowers and) flowering plants, of a variety of rare in form and colour, to glad the heart of the rock garden enthusiast. The days were blazing but the nights cool, clear lit by either moon or stars, and the only worries were lack of sufficient water; the howling of the jackals and the distant boom of guns to remind one that history was repeating itself and that this Sinai country was again the scene of a huge military endeavour. It was my duty to make paintings of that part of the Romani country where the Light Horse had a very stiff encounter with the Turk. The Romani country becomes more and more interspersed with the remains of ancient Palm Groves, which in early days probably covered the whole of Northern Sinai. Here and there a huge sandhill or mount rears up as the result of years of influence by the main winds and half buries one or more of the groves or Hods. Half way up some of these sandhills the green tops of the half-buried palms make decorative accompaniment to the undulating line of the almost knife-edged ridge on the top of the hill, intensely sharp against the blue sky. It was in these useful surroundings that the scrap before mentioned took place and I complimented one of our Brigadier Generals on his selection of the site, but he modestly assured me that the choice was entirely due to the persistency of the Turk and not to his innate love of the beautiful.

A word to those who would paint this country. Leave your

[Page 32]

gay pigments at home. Approach nature with a simple palette but an extravagant love of form. The sand hills take on shapes and curves, cuts, concave and convex, interwoven in an entrancing pattern, here rhythmical, there jagged and eccentrically opposed. With all the knowledge the artist may, nay must, bring to bear, he need only copy and he achieves art – but it takes doing.

Reluctantly leaving the delights of the desert and touching lightly on the one clean, though ancient, town of El Arish, where I was sumptuously entertained by the Colonel and Officers of the 1st Battalion of the British West Indies Regiment, I must speak a little about Magdhaba and my journeying to that battle ground.

The journey from El Arish to Magdhaba is a matter of some 25 miles and camels and attendants were provided by the British Governor or Administrator of Northern Sinai, a delightful and capable soldier, under whose rule El Arish became clean and prosperous. On the eve of our journey we made merry to some tune, swapping yarns with our hosts and partaking liberally of the unwonted but excellent refreshment more than generously provided by them, and it was with some misgivings that I faced the journey next morning in the full blaze of the sun and shifting heat; but my early training as a horseman in Australia and my experience of celebrations at the Chelsea Arts Club stood me in good stead and I arrived the same evening at Magdhaba fit and full of enthusiasm for work. My guide officer, a major of one of the Light Horse

[Page 33]

Brigades, fared not so well. He was a teetotaller, had a large, if not stout, body that overflowed the camel’s saddle, he hated camel riding, he disliked scenery, he had a contempt for artists almost characteristic of the perfect soldier and he landed in, a sore, disgruntled pessimist. My enthusiasm of the next few days did not help him any, as the Americans say, for I raved about the beauty of the place and painted with a speed never before achieved, dragging him round about the place over the landscape in the heat and insisting that he should not only admire the beauties of nature but especially my interpretation of them. At Magdhaba one comes up against literally the first real, solid mountain seen by our troops in their progress from the Canal eastward. It will always be my regret that my duties prevented me from getting a nearer view and closer acquaintanceship with its beauty. On the way back we halted half way to rest and water our camels at a small water hole, the last of the waters that only a month before had flooded the river or wadi and swept over some miles of flats down to El Arish and into the Mediterranean. At the halting place I made a little painting about six inches by four on a maple panel with oil paint and very small sable brushes, of the sand hills on the Laffan side of the Wadi El Arish. This little painting I hold to be my most sincere and successful effort. It was painted in heat of the day, a breathless heat that made the camels lie down and look more sorry for themselves than usual. Miriads of flies seeing

[Page 34]

both my hands busily engaged, settled down and enjoyed an almost uninterrupted feast on the perspiration that literally saturated every stitch of my uniform, including leggings and boots. Despite these difficulties and that curse of the Official Artist, the sense of hurry caused by having to work to military schedule, I accomplished my six by four inch masterpiece. If you would very much like to see it you must go to Australia, where it now has housing, but although Australia is a young country there are other attractions and now that London is become overcrowded there is yet another reason for me to induce you to undertake the pilgrimage.

Raafa
The battle of Raafa (as you must have read many times by now,) brought the British troops to the promised land. The early Isrealites, (you will remember,) dodged this direct route on account of the fighting strength of the Philistines and wandered off, getting lost for forty years and coming into the promised land at the top end from the Moab range.

At Raafa, where the New Zealanders gave a dashing and brilliant finish to the splendid achievements of all British troops engaged, there are many points of interest, archeological, historical and artistic. I mention briefly the well which the Engineers opened up, hoisting to the present level of the surface huge marble columns which are said to be part of an ancient

[Page 35]

Roman Temple and baths. But the feature that most impressed the Dominion and Commonwealth troops was the beginning of the end of the desert; the increasing fertility of the soil and the natural grass feed for the horses.

Gaza I suppose must be mentioned, if only to voice again, on behalf of the Australian and New Zealand troops their admiration and reverence for the achievements of their fellows in arms, the British Infantry. (But my intention is to cut out the military and the horrors, also the political side of affairs that are past. I only mention) The assaults on Gaza as being were equal to anything in the history of the gallantry and spirit of sacrifice achieved by British troops. Later on it was my pleasure to receive hospitality from one of our Brigadier Generals and attend a race meeting on the site of this battle, what time the line had moved on into the Judean hills and many troops, chiefly cavalry, were resting. The races at Gaza equalled, in my mind, any meeting one I can mention recall. Blood horses, trained to a hair, materialized in a mysterious manner; riders rode in colours not unfamiliar to those who attend race meetings in England. Every yard of the three mile course was visible from the natural Grand Stand, a green hill. It was a bright day that made me assume the fatalistic attitude of the soldier: “Here today – gone tomorrow, but let’s have a good time while we can". That day I did no painting.

At Beersheba, where a great outflanking of the Turks was performed, my work was very arduous, consisting of surveys,

[Page 36]

topographical records in pencil and riding over the very trenches where, a short time before, a Brigade of Light Horse did spectacular and useful work. Even the most willing and well bred horse dislikes jumping trenches. When the trenches are filled with Turks, bayonets fixed, some idea may be gained of the force with which the charge was carried through as it mention is recorded that the casualties were infinitesimal extraordinarily few. A great incentive was the desire to capture as many Turks as possible and see what there was in Beersheba in the way of refreshment and any other trifle to be had for the taking. I do not say loot. It was about this time that the horses achieved a record for powers of endurance – going without water for about fifty hours. This record was beaten later on in the campaign.

Here his personal report breaks off, but he went up to Belah etc.

[Transcriber's note:
Raafa – also spelt Rafa – P. 19
Lud – also spelt Ludd – P. 23

[Transcribed by Judy Gimbert and Betty Smith for the State Library of New South Wales]