We reached Um El Surab soon after dawn on a rather autumnal day, which was a reminder that the "lesser rains" would probably start earlier than they did the previous year, which, in Palestine, was supposed to be the longest and hottest summer in the memory of man. Certainly, I do not remember ever being much hotter in midsummer in those parts than at the battle of Khuwelfeih, just after the capture of Beersheba, in October 1917.

The surroundings of Um El Surab were much pleasanter than El Umteiye, because the wells there were dry (we had to send over to El Umteiye each day for water), and consequently, as it offered no inducement for a Bedouin camp in ordinary times, the ground was cleaner and the surrounding plain full of grass. General Nuri arranged a system of day and night pioquets as well as patrols by the Ruweilah horse, and altogether we felt safer and more comfortable, especially as the Turks continued to bomb El Umteiye for the next few days, apparently under the impression that we were still there, though the reconnaissance from Deras never materialised, for the reason, which we did not then know, that the whole Turkish organisation was in disorder as a result of the first great phase

of Allenby's victory. Fortunately, the daily bombing never synchronised with the hours at which the cars and animals visited El Umteiye for water.

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That morning at Surab we heard that L. and the Egyptian Camel Corps had destroyed another small section of the railway near a station called Ifden during the night. J. left about midday, accompanied by Sherif Nasser, for Azrak, to confer with L. over one or two points that had arisen during the previous twenty-four hours, and before leaving arranged that further raid on the railway should be attempted that night by a party from the column. It was obvious that so long as we stayed in the vicinity, the more we could interrupt rail communication between Deraa and Ammon, the safer we were. The plan for this particular night's adventure was to send an armoured car with an escort of about thirty Arab regulars and a "demolition party," consisting of K. and four of the French ganners, who understood the business. K. was a young British officer who was attached to General Nuri's staff as Intelligence Officer, and who spoke Arabie almost as well as he spoke English, as he had spent his @hildhood in Egypt. He possessed the only British batman in the column, an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander, very redoubtable in action, who had perhaps the most remarkable rôle of any British soldier in any force; for, since K. messed and lived at the Arab Headquarters, his batman resided there also, cooking his own food and living by himself, on terms not of familiarity but of mutual respect with the Arab soldiers - respect based on weeks and months of hardship and endeavour in

Whenever K. undertook any perilous enterprise, of which occupation he was very fond, he was accompanied by this dour, stalwart Highland soldier. Of the four French gunners mentioned above (the majority of the detachment were from French North Africa), one was a Frenchman born, Sergeant M., a round, rather fat little Frenchman with large spectacles and wondering eyes, but, as I shall presently show, of unquestioned courage.

The officer who commanded the Arab escort was a vivacious and smiling young man who spoke bad French and worse English with tremendous rapidity. He had, however, the merit of being quite fond of "serapping."

The composition of the force having been settled, there remained the question of who was to be the senior British officer who was to accompany it in command or as "adviser" (whichever you will!), and for this there was some competition, the sport of railway destruction in Arabia having

of impossible boulder - strewn ground. Moreover, there was one wadi which had to be crossed and could only be negotiated by the armoured car at one point. However, K. and I memorised the lie of the land as well as we could, and erected cairns of stones to help our memory when night came. We could not, of course, reconnoitre the last two miles to the railway, as it was essential that the Turks should be unaware of our project. From a distance, however, this part of the route looked comparatively easy.

Soon after dusk we set out. The armoured car throbbed rhythmically over the ground, very slowly and cautiously, with K. and I looking over the top of the turret and direoting the driver; whilst the thirty Shereefians, plentifully supplied with Hotchkiss guns, and the four French gunners, jogged soberly along on their camels on our flank, with four men in front and four behind, as advanceand rear-guard respectively. A wadi, unsuspected by K.

It appeared that M. had calmly continued to explode his "tulips," despite the orders to retire if we were attacked. With many expressions of regret for the trouble that he had caused me, he hoisted his brave little person into the car (his camel having got loose in the meanwhile and returned "on its own" to Um El Surab), and, with its human freight packed like sardines, the car proceeded to back out of action, still spitting venomously at our unseen enemy, who must have fired thousands of rounds of ammunition, but never caused us a single casualty. Two hours later we were all safely back at Um El Surab. My explanation of the Turks' attitude is this. I am convinced that they had a post quite close to where we were working-probably a dozen private soldiers with two machine-guns-but that such was their growing demoralisation, as a result partly of the news which had probably reached them, though not yet us, of Allenby's victory, and partly at the uniform success of our daily and nightly raids, that they decided to lie low and do nothing until the noise of the explosives compelled them to make a show of resistance, in view of the fact that they would be likely to get into trouble with their officer if he knew they had let us once again blow up the line without hindrance, The officer was probably at Ifden, a mile or two away, and whilst he would not have heard our arrival and work

on the line, he could not fail to hear the explosions. If this is not the explanation, I do not know why the machinegun erews which finally attacked us ever allowed us to reach the line at all, or why, if they were a party which arrived after we had started work, they did not make some attempt to scupper us when we retired. Had they worked round to our flank we should have been "in the soup."

The next day (or rather the same day, for we got back just after midnight) we spent quietly at Um El Surab, being still without news or orders; but in the early morning of the 22nd L., in a Bristol Fighter, accompanied by two other machines, arrived from Palestine with the electrifying news of Allenby's great victory. When we heard that Nazareth, Nablus, Janin, Afule, and a score of other places, with 22,000 prisoners, had been captured, we could scarcely believe our ears. We heard, too, of the projected advance northwards to Deraa and Damasous, and of our increasingly important rôle as the force, tiny in truth, but still the only force, between the Turks and their line of retreat. I began to realise with a start that little midnight adventures such as I had lately taken part in were but play-acting compared with what we might be called upon to do in the way of getting between the Turk and his objective, the goal of his fleeing famished army in the North; for his one idea was