thodist padre, was an ex-gunner of the Royal Navy and a
great athlete--attributes that enhanced his influence as preacher.
"Crime," however, did not exist at Ashton-in-Sinai. Nor did temptations.
The real danger was mental and physical deterioration under the
depressing influence of the country and the climate, for the intense
heat sapped every man's vitality. We set ourselves to combat these
risks, and to give the men the food and recreation without which
soldiering becomes a burden, and discipline degenerates to servitude.

Towards evening I would ride into the desert and watch from the east our
men labouring on the great sand ridge in a haze of heat. On this side of
Ashton there were no tracks at all. The eye could see nothing but
endless sand hills, broken only by patches of dry scrub and shimmering
yellow under the burning sun. If nature has changed little in the desert
since Israel came out of captivity, it is easy to sympathise with their
regret for the fleshpots of Egypt. So penetrating was the sun that the
colour of the men's khaki breeches faded into purple.

There was, indeed, a certain charm in our remoteness from the outer
world. Camping out in the wilderness had more than a touch of the desert
island of boyish imagination. There was glamour in the extraordinary
simplicity of a life where the higher command was but a distant name,
and where men dressed themselves and spent the long, hot day as they
pleased. The fret and competition of Europe were felt no more. I
remember our arguing about Irish Home Rule one night till the stars
paled in the eastern sky, but the episode was unique. In spite of its
hardships, no manner of life was ever more calculated to banish ancient
feuds, to strip human nature of envy and uncharitableness, or to mould
that most perfect of all democracies--a brotherhood in arms.

On the afternoon of the 22nd June 1916 we left the wilderness under
orders for Kantara. We spent several days near Shallufa sidings, and
then, having obtained leave for England, I left for Suez with W.H.
Barratt and W.T. Thorp, two subalterns who had made their mark while in
the ranks by distinguished service in the field. Early in July we sailed
from Port Tewfik to Marseilles and watched from its deck the distant
camp of the Turkish prisoners from Arabia twinkling in the sunlight
across the most southerly reaches of the Canal.

I need say no word more in praise of the men of our Battalion, whom I
saw for the