dly buried, and our food and drink, our ears
and eyes and mouths were kept full of grit for twenty-four hours.

On January 8th we were off again and moving down to the coast, marched
on to el Arish. The going was naturally very heavy, but we thus avoided
the almost impassable jumble of high sand-dunes inland. On that day the
Anzac cavalry passed us on their way to fight at Rafa, riding down the
beach in long lines, and making a very impressive sight. The effect was
rather spoilt by the inconsiderate attentions of some Turkish planes but
no harm was done. We reached our bivouac area south of el Arish about
two. It is a curious commentary on the complaints of the cold that we
have just voiced, that the men of a new draft reached el Arish, running
with sweat and vowing they had never been so hot in their lives, in
spite of being in shirt sleeves, while the rest of us wore our tunics,
and were hardly even thirsty.

CHAPTER IX

EL ARISH AND FIRST BATTLE OF GAZA.

El Arish, the ancient Rhinocolura, lies near the mouth of the Wadi el
Arish, which runs away southward into the heart of Sinai and is believed
to have been the River of Egypt, the southern boundary of Biblical
Palestine. The wadi hardly deserved the name of river to-day, but during
the winter months it is sometimes covered with water to the depth of a
few inches, flowing slowly down to the sea. Along its banks the
inhabitants plant their crops among the palm trees, watering them
assiduously from wells, with the assistance of tiny donkeys, about the
size of goats, each carrying two enormous water jars. The town is the
capital of the Mudirieh of Sinai, and boasted a British resident and a
force of Beduin police, but was abandoned with the rest of the province
when Turkey declared war. The country round the town is almost
completely bare of scrub, a mass of tumbled hills of sand, rounded
slopes and razor-like crests, alternating with deep valley between
almost sheer cliffs. Here and there are palm or other evergreen trees,
and in the low ground round the wadi are numerous fig trees.

The town itself was a disappointment to the men, who could not but
expect some of the amenities of civilisation in a place of whose
military importance they had heard so much. At the western end was an
ancient fort, now in ruins from a bombardment by our monitors, one or
two more pretentious houses with plaster fronts, and the mosque whose
white minaret, though not of any grea