Heslop

Journal of the T. E. Lawrence Society
ISSN 0963-1747

Vol. VII, No. 2, Spring 1998

Edited by Philip Kerrigan

Railways of the Near East: after Lawrence in Arabia

Major D. G. Heslop

From The Railway Magazine, April 1934

Note that this article was written in Lawrence's lifetime, before the first publication of Seven Pillars of Wisdom for general circulation and long before the release of British wartime documents. The author inaccurately attributes all the destruction on the Hedjaz Railway to Lawrence personally.

In January 1919, I was stationed at Haifa in Palestine, where I had just completed a sea-wall through that town, built in order to carry the (then) Palestine Military Railway to the Hedjaz station there, when I was instructed to make a reconnaissance of the Hedjaz Railway from Deraa to 'as far as I could get south' towards Medina; and to report on the condition of the line as left by Colonel Lawrence; and to furnish an estimate of the cost of repairs required to put the line into running order again.

At this time trains were being operated with some difficulty between Haifa and Deraa and from Deraa to Damascus, but southwards of Deraa no trains had run since 31 October 1918. During the War the Hedjaz Railway was of the greatest importance to the Turkish Army, forming as it did, the principal line of communication to Palestine and Transjordan. Nearly all the Turkish troops, ammunition, supplies, and reinforcements were brought to their front line by it and detrained at their railheads at Nablus for Jerusalem, Deir Sineid for the Gaza sector, and at Beersheba for their left front.

It was therefore of the highest importance for us to destroy as much as possible of this line, and to this end many air raids had taken place at Deraa junction, the vital spot, Amman, Rayak, and other places, whilst Colonel Lawrence's activities on the main line to Medina are so well known that detailed reference here is unnecessary.

In a paper, I read some years ago, Mr Ian R. Frazer said:

'Just as our railway troops created records in track laying, so did Colonel Lawrence and his team of railway wreckers, operating in hostile country, on the Pilgrim (Hedjaz) Railway south of Deraa, become the world's best track destroyers. Not content with placing charges on the enemy's line and running away, he personally supervised the destruction by electrical detonation from a distance of only a hundred yards or so, and seldom brought down a bridge unless both engines of a double-headed train plunged into the gap, raking the unfortunate trainload of soldiers with machine-gun fire, looting the goods and burning what could not be removed, methodically packing up his apparatus and riding off into the desert. Colonel Lawrence might well be described as the Turkish railway engineers' nightmare, and it is sufficient to say that, having broken up the track in eighty different places, rear seats in trains proceeding from Damascus to Medina were at a premium'.

Our expedition was sent out to report on the amount of damage that had been done, not only by the allied forces but also by the Turks themselves during their retreat from Medina in October 1918. An escort was considered necessary in view of the disturbed state of the country on the further side of the Jordan, where roving bands of Bedouins, ready to prey on anybody, were numerous. We did not expect to get any farther south than Katrani (205 miles from Damascus), for it was known that a large stone bridge there had been severely damaged. It was decided to travel most of the way on an Adler motor trolley, which was an ordinary 5-seater motor-car mounted on railway wheels. This car had been captured from the Turks, and in it I proposed to keep about half-a-mile in front of our special train in order to warn the driver in ample time of any obstruction.

On 2 January 1919, therefore, five of us set out from Haifa in the Adler, the remainder of the party following in the ordinary passenger train which would take them to Deraa, the jumping-off place of the expedition. Leaving Haifa we went at a good speed along the rough northern slopes of Mount Carmel, on our right, with the Nazareth road between us and them. Coming to the bridge over the Kishon, we entered the valley of Esdraelon, the arena of fighting from the days of Nebuchadnezzar to those of Allenby. Jews, Gentiles, Saracens, Crusaders, Assyrians, Persians, Turks, French, Arabs and English have all fought here, and this is prophesied as the site of the coming Armageddon. Nazareth could be seen in the hills some eight miles to the north of Afule station, at which place we were some 40 ft. above sea level. Now we began to descend rapidly into the deep valley of the Jordan, passing through the Valley of Jezreel, where Jehu drove so furiously, the village of Endor, and past Mount Tabor, where Napoleon defeated the Mamelukes on 17 April 1799.

At Beisan (the Scythopolis of the Greeks) we were 400 ft. below sea level and the weather was intensely hot in consequence. Beisan is now a purely Arab village situated on the plain at the extreme edge of the southern descent to the Jordan. Very fine views of the river can be had from the housetops, and on a clear day the Mountains of Moab across the valley are very sharply defined, the shadows in the deep ravines forming a strong contrast to the sun-bathed spurs. The grades of the railway now greatly increased and there were many sharp turns to be encountered as we coasted down the precipitous slopes of the valley, the scenery becoming much wilder and more rugged. Old Roman roads and bridges were seen, and many nomad and Bedouin encampments, distinguished by their black tents, were scattered about the riverine plain, their flocks and herds grazing round them.

At Jisrel Majame we crossed the Jordan on a steel bridge 700 ft. below sea level; this is not only the lowest point on the line, but is also the lowest in the world for a railway. Close to the modern railway bridge there is a very ancient stone bridge of different-sized arches, attributed to the Romans; it now carried the road from Beisan to Samakh. The Jordan here was a clear, swiftly-running stream, with banks of rock in which grew clumps of gaily-flowered bushes.

Our next stop was at Samakh station, 80 miles from Haifa, built on the south shore of the Sea of Galilee. Samakh (Arabic for 'fish') is a small Arab village about two miles away from the station. Here we picked up our escort, which embarked on the passenger train (this had now caught us up), together with a month's rations for the party. Samakh is some 650 ft. below sea level, and the Sea of Galilee is 30 ft. lower. The water in the latter is fresh, though it is said that the River Jordan, in flowing through it from North to South, does not mingle its waters with those of the lake, but passes straight through.

Upon leaving Samakh we entered almost at once the gloomy forbidding valley of the Yarmuk River, which was to lead us up to a height of 3,000 ft. above the sea at Deraa, 80 miles away. Rising on a continuous gradient of 1 in 50 we reached sea level once more at Makaren station. On the way we crossed two large steel bridges which had been destroyed by the Turks, but which had been sufficiently repaired with high wooden trestles by the Canadian Engineers to enable us to pass over in safety. At the station of El Hamme (meaning 'heat' in Arabic, and not without reason) we bathed in the natural hot sulphur baths, which are a feature of the place. From here we continued our journey through seven small tunnels, the scenery being very wild and grand in the extreme. The alignment through the Yarmuk valley reflects the greatest credit on the skill and thoroughness of the German engineer who located the line.

At Makaren station we came across petroleum shale rock, which could be set alight with a match. Incidentally, this station was the scene, in December 1919, of the capture of my survey party by Bedouins, and of the destruction of tents, instruments, and plans; the result was the temporary abandonment of an extensive scheme for a railway and pipe line from Haifa to Hit, on the Euphrates. At Mezerib station we passed some beautiful waterfalls over which the line ran, crossed the last high bridge over the Yarmuk River, entered a tunnel, traversed a long limestone rock cutting and finally emerged, on top of the Mountains of Moab, into Deraa station.

Deraa is an important railway junction built about one and a half miles from the village. It had been the scene of heavy fighting and bombing during the war both by Lawrence and his Arabs and by the British, and of this there was abundant evidence. On the east of Deraa are the mountains of the Druse country, and on the north is Mount Hermon, with its snowclad summit, and the Lebanon mountains. The country round Deraa is a flat stony desert, but wheat and barley are grown to a large extent in peace time, as the soil is volcanic and very fertile. At Deraa there were no engines suitable for our requirements, so I had to send to Damascus for a small one, as in all probability the larger engines would not get very far, owing to the damage done to the railway. On the third day this engine arrived, in charge of an Arab driver, and bringing with it a private coach belonging to Kemal Bey, an Egyptian engineer, who was in it and who had brought with him the plans and sections of the line. In the Adler car, therefore, Kemal Bey, myself, an Australian trooper with a Hotchkiss gun, and the driver, proceeded south, the remainder of the party following half a mile behind, sharply on the lookout for any signals which might be given from our car.

Up to Nessib, 20 miles off, we proceeded with confidence, but after that place caution was very necessary. Twice we had to stop the train and call all hands with ropes to pull two abandoned wagons off the track, and many times a halt was called to clear aside telegraph poles and wires lying across the line. Every kilometre had been marked by the builders with a post 6ft. high carrying an iron plate about 12in. square, upon which the kilometrage had been painted, but almost all these plates had been used as a target by the Bedouins, and they were riddled with bullet-holes and the numbers obliterated. From Deraa onwards we were completely out of touch with the outside world, as the telegraph line had been destroyed, and for many miles we saw no villages or any human being. The district traversed was still that dreadful arid stone desert known as 'the Wilderness of the Israelites,' which appeared to extend for hundreds of miles into Mesopotamia and probably beyond. Apart from one or two diversions of the line, which the Turks had made in haphazard fashion round demolished bridges, we encountered no serious obstruction up to Amman station. Colonel Lawrence had been lenient to this part of the railway, though the case was very different further on.

Amman station had suffered little damage, and that only to the roof of the engine shed. The town itself proved very interesting. It is the ancient Philadelphia, and it contains one of the finest and best preserved Roman amphitheatres in existence. There are many ruins of Roman buildings and bridges, and on the top of a hill opposite the station is the ruin of a large Roman temple, round which arrow-heads and other relics can still be found. Leaving Amman we came to the only tunnel on the line, at Kassir, and as this might have been mined, I walked through it first and carefully examined it by means of hand-lamps. Nothing was wrong with it, and we proceeded past a high arched bridge. This splendid structure was undamaged, and upon it we found a large marble slab upon which had been engraved, in Arabic letters of gold, the magnificence of the Sultan of Turkey and the name of the builder. At 205 miles from Damascus we reached the important station of Katrani, and here our progress was definitely checked. Incidentally, it was only at Amman and Katrani that we were able to obtain any water for ourselves and for the engine.

An arched bridge over a dry river bed here had been so damaged by Lawrence that the train could not pass until repairs had been effected. Estimating that three days would be required, I took the opportunity of sending the engine, with Kemal Bey, back to Damascus, to bring back a truck of coal and two large water-tanks on another truck. A garrison of Hedjaz soldiers was quartered in the station, and with these men and my own, repairs to the bridge were taken in hand. No other materials being available, use was made of telegraph poles, wires, and old rails, and in three days the bridge was safe to pass the train. There were also some Hedjaz officers at Katrani, who were very anxious to be allowed to go with us to Maan, on the way to their homes at Medina. When Kemal Bey returned with the water and coal, I allowed these officers to make themselves as comfortable as they could in the coal-wagon and go with us. Very serious damage had been done to the line beyond Katrani, and our days were filled up in repairing bridges, removing trucks, trollies, poles and wire from the line; on one particular day, when we had to take up several hundreds of yards of track behind us and relay it in front of the train to enable us to proceed, we only covered 10 miles.

About 30 miles south of Katrani we came across a portion of the line completely washed out, and it looked like coming to a full stop. However, with the aid of nests of sleepers, which we took up from behind the train, we managed to bridge the gap and proceeded. Near Aneiza we found that both the main arches of a high bridge had been blown out at the crown and the rails were hanging in festoons over the gaps. Rail clusters, held together by the ubiquitous telegraph wire, helped us over these. At Aneiza station we found a limited supply of water, and all hands, including the Hedjaz officers, were told off to fill our tanks with buckets. Late in the afternoon we proceeded, but only did 10 miles to Jardoun station, where we halted for the night. So far during the journey we had not found a single station standing except Amman and Katrani; the rest were nothing but heaps of ruins, and all wells and cisterns, where they existed, had been filled up.

Lawrence's most effective demolitions, however, were when he destroyed several hundred yards of permanent way by blowing up the joints. These we could not repair, and much delay was caused by taking up the track behind the train and relaying it in front. At Jardoun station the Hedjaz officers became insubordinate because I could not spare them any rations, so I left them behind the next morning, with instructions to walk into Maan and fend for themselves. A truck was detached for them to sleep in. We then went ahead in the Adler to Maan station, and on the way came across two large masonry bridges entirely demolished. The Turks had laid a diversion round them, and the grade was favourable going north, but quite impossible for any train going south; moreover, the diversion was unfit to pass a train, and required considerable repair. The Adler got over it and 10 miles further on we ran into Maan station. Here there was a large Hedjaz garrison, under Abdul Latif Bey, who must have thought we had sprung out of the earth, so astonished did he look. I got him to send out Arab rations to my men and then proceeded southwards.

About three miles beyond Maan I found at least one and a half miles of the track completely destroyed, and decided that I had got as far as I could and must now return. Easier said than done, however. Returning to the train that night I placed the Adler at the rear, as I had no further use for it then. Next morning the train proceeded to the two destroyed bridges and remained on the top of the bank whilst repairs to the diversion were undertaken. This meant building two dry stone walls, filling in with smaller stones and earth, and then relaying the track. Meantime, the Hedjaz officers at Jardoun, with more energy than could have been imagined, started pushing their truck towards Maan. At the top of the grade it got out of control, and charging down on the poor Adler crushed it like a concertina, and made repairs to it impossible. Detaching the engine of the train, I sent it off to Maan for water and to return for us when filled up. With great difficulty it managed to climb the diversion slope, and it was clear that it would never be able to pull up our train.

We then had some food and turned in; with our train we were at the bottom of the diversion and between two dry watercourses. But during that night a tremendous cloudburst occurred, and when we got up next morning it was to find ourselves marooned between two raging torrents, and the water rising rapidly. The rain still continued and we were absolutely imprisoned. First of all the diversion, which we had so carefully repaired, was washed away, and it was followed by the coal truck, the body of which floated off the frame and turned over, disappearing somewhere into the Arabian desert and taking the coal with it. By this time the water was up to the floor of our carriages and I had visions of the whole lot being washed away. Luckily the water rose no higher, but all our fantassies (Egyptian water-tins) floated merrily off down-stream.

The engine now returned but could not, of course, approach the train. Next morning the water had subsided sufficiently to allow us to repair the diversion again, and in the evening we got the engine down and coupled up. But in vain did she labour and pant to pull up the train. We tried two wagons, but these were too heavy, and then, by superhuman efforts, ropes, and sand on the rails, we got up the engine and one truck. This meant abandoning the rest of the train, including Kemal Bey's private coach, very much to his disgust. As we were now quite without food, I decided to give up all further attempts at salvage, and pushed off into Maan with the men and ourselves in the truck. We got into Maan that night.

In the morning the problem to be faced was how we were to get back to our base at Haifa. After that cloudburst I had visions of Katrani bridge gone again, the wash-out still further washed out, fresh embankments disappeared, and many more lengths of permanent way to be taken up and re-laid; and it was clear that we could never go back by the way we had come, even could we be supplied with rations and water. Moreover, the driver reported that his firebox was burnt, owing to shortness of water. There was the further problem of getting the remainder of the train out of the diversion. After consultation it was decided to return overland. There were alternative routes, one to Beersheba round the south end of the Dead Sea, and the other to Akaba on the Red Sea. Maan was in telephonic communication with Akaba, and I spoke to Bimbashi Peake, of the Egyptian Army there, and explained the difficulties. He agreed to send out a convoy of camels with food from Akaba to meet us on our march to the coast, and Beersheba was ruled out.

We spent three days in Maan, which is 285 miles from Damascus, and the first night halting-place for pilgrims going to Mecca. It is furnished with good buildings - a hospital, a caravanserai, and, in peace time, an hotel. The country around is still of the arid desert type, with very few settled Arabs living in the village. I found it best not to make too close inquiries as to how these gentlemen earned a living; probably Maan in its salad days was very lawless indeed, and every man appeared to be armed. Between Amman and Maan we had not seen a single tree, but in Maan itself there were date-palms, figs, pomegranates and orange trees - a veritable oasis in the stony desert.

On the third day after our arrival we started off on the march to Akaba. As this part of the story has no railway application, I will pass over it by recalling that we had started our journey from Haifa in blazing heat at sea level, had then descended to even greater heat at 700 ft. below that level, on this march mounted to frost at 3,000 ft. up, and finally descended to sea level again. The whole aspect of the country passed through was very wild and primitive, until, on the fourth morning, we reached Akaba at 11 a.m., and met the Commander of the garrison and others. The Gulf of Akaba, at the head of which is the village of that name, is a continuation of that curious subsidence in the earth's crust which starts at the Waters of Merom, in Syria, continues down the Jordan Valley and through the Dead Sea, and finally into the Great Rift Valley in East Africa. The high granite mountains at the south end of the Dead Sea form an interruption of this subsidence. After a pleasant stay, in spite of the heat, we embarked on a little steamer of the Anglo-Egyptian Oil Company, named the Min, and set off down the gulf of Akaba, rounded Ras Mohammed and so passed into the Gulf of Suez to that town, where we all disembarked after a passage of 36 hours. We had travelled over 1,000 miles on the round trip, and had lost a train, several wagons, and our coal, but had gone as far south as possible, and had kept in good health. Months after a party of Hedjaz soldiers went to the train and, by man-power, pushed it the whole way back to Deraa. The engine was repaired later and returned to Damascus. What became of those wretched Hedjaz officers I never learnt.

Note

1. 'Military Railways, Egyptian Expeditionary Force', by Ian R. Frazer, read at the Scottish Section of the Permanent Way Institution on 17 December 1930.

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