Plans
are now complete for an ‘in the steps of Newcombe’ tour of Turkey
commencing next week which will give me the opportunity to capture the
landscape, atmosphere and spirit of place before publication of In the
Shadow of the Crescent next year. This trip will all too briefly cover
Stewart Newcombe’s onward journey from Carchemish
in 1914 after he had visited T.E. Lawrence and Leonard Woolley at the end of
the survey season that had included the Wilderness of Zin and Sinai
intelligence-gathering missions. From the archaeologist’s house Newcombe and
fellow Royal Engineer officer Lieutenant J.P.S. Greig travelled on horse-back to
observe the progress of the Berlin to Baghdad railway through the Taurus
Mountain passes, although as Newcombe complained, ‘horse is rather a misnomer
for the animals obtained’.
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| Tunnel through the Tuarus Mountains |
Although the archaeologists’ hospitality would have been a welcome
diversion after the rigours of the surveys, Newcombe and Greig were eager to be
off to investigate the progress of the construction of the railway to the west.
After they set off they soon picked up the railhead at Dorak
and followed the line through the Taurus Mountains
until Karapunar (mod. Karapinar) from where I’ll be able to pick up their
journey. Identifying about 18 kilometres of tunnels, they made their way
through the stunning but slightly terrifying gorges of the Taurus range, with its
hair-raising zigzag paths and a cleverly graded carriage-road cut alongside the
route of the line. At the village
of Bedernadik (today’s Belemedik)
they encountered a stone-built camp for engineers supported by a guard of
Ottoman soldiers who stopped them and asked for papers.
Newcombe was able to bluff his way out of a difficult situation. As he
explained: ‘A few chosen words in French to an Austrian, who could only
understand Italian, and the acceptance of a cigar, were sufficient to get us
through.’ They continued in the direction of Bozanti (mod. Pozanti), and
although it was getting dark the effect of the fading light on the rock-cut
road was inspiring and moved Newcombe to describe it as a ‘narrow gorge of the
most impressive and romantic description, seen as it was after dusk with a crescent
moon, on either side the cliffs rising sheer to the snowline.’ It was an uncharacteristically
lyrical description from a man more familiar with technical and factual details.
Always
the engineer, Newcombe was equally impressed by the extremely difficult work of
surveying and construction, especially at the tunnel mouths, which continued through
the night by the glow of electric arc lights – 12 tunnels were eventually built
although the original idea was to pierce the Taurus mountain range by one long
tunnel. Accordingly, he paid his respects to his fellow engineers, hoping also
to elicit intelligence. But as he pointed out, ‘It was difficult, however, to
get any other information than what could be seen on a hurried journey.’
One
of the highlights of my journey north will be a visit to Bursa,
the ancient capital of the Ottoman
State from 1326 to 1365.
It was here that Newcombe was imprisoned and from where he and his brave accomplice
and future wife, Elizabeth (Elsie) Chaki, hatched a daring plan for his escape
back to Constantinople (Istanbul) and where he would later make contact with
the escape organisation of an equally courageous woman who went under the nom
de guerre of The White Lady.
‘A
nice man whom I once met in Constantinople.’
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| Galata Bridge, Constantinople |
Newcombe
knew Constantinople well from before the war.
Gertrude Bell, the ‘Queen of the Desert, Shaper of Nations’, as one recent
biography describes this most extraordinary woman, was already a celebrated
mountaineer, intrepid traveller, writer, political officer and spy when she crossed
paths with Newcombe in the city. She first wrote of him to her mother in 1916 as
“…a nice man whom I once met in Constantinople.”
Years later she would bemoan the fact that he had been ensnared by
marriage: ‘...Col. Newcomb [sic] is the kind of man who never ought to have
married at all. He is an adventurer and really good at the job.’
Before
Elsie and The White Lady came to his rescue, Istanbul was the scene of many failed escape
attempts by Newcombe and his accomplices – some calamitous, some amusing but
all with potentially serious consequences. A boat trip on the Bosphorus from
the Galata Bridge
which spans the Golden Horn will be essential
in recreating one particular adventure that nearly ended in disaster and
necessitated the need for the would-be escapees to return to their military
prison undetected. My return journey will be to a suitably located restaurant
to dine on locally caught fish and to watch the sun setting across the Sea of
Marmara in the knowledge that within weeks of the war’s end, Newcombe and Elsie
were reunited in London and married in a small church nestling in the shadow of
Westminster Abbey, situated at the spiritual and political epicentre of the
Empire he served as a loyal and dedicated agent. Elsie may not have met with
Gertrude’s approval but their marriage flourished within the parameters of his
military career which, given his rank, status and experience, gave them ample
opportunities to share and enjoy fresh adventures together.
