In the Steps of Newcombe

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’.

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.’

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.

Newcombe and Lawrence on film

Colonel Brighton, centre in uniform

While much is known about T.E. Lawrence, much is also misunderstood. The film Lawrence of Arabia built upon the legend but also did much to create that misunderstanding through a misrepresentation of the facts not solely confined to artistic limitations. In the forthcoming biography of Stewart Newcombe, In the Shadow of the Crescent,  I  consider the conflicting aspects of Lawrence’s screen and popular persona with the real Lawrence. One question that can be answered here is: if Newcombe played such a significant role in the life of the real Lawrence, then where was Colonel Newcombe in the film?

The following dialogue is based on a scene written by the screenwriter Michael Wilson from an early draft of the screenplay for the film Lawrence of Arabia. Although it differs in dialogue to the version that was actually filmed, the scene will be familiar to those who know the film. To set the scene, T.E. Lawrence, accompanied by his servant Farraj, has just arrived in Cairo after leading the Arab army into Aqaba. They are both exhausted and thirsty after crossing the Sinai and their Arab robes are caked with desert sand. Lawrence leads his young friend straight to the Officers’ Club where the presence of two disheveled Arabs naturally causes quite a stir.

When they reach the bar, Lawrence orders two ginger-beer shandies from a startled bartender who hastily informs them that the bar is reserved for British officers. Lawrence replies: ‘I‘m well aware of that, and more‘s the pity. But we’ll have two shandies all the same.’ Colonel Newcombe enters to see what all the fuss is about. He approaches the two Arabs.

‘Excuse me….’ he begins to ask, before recognising his friend. ‘Good Lord. It’s really you.’

Lawrence turns. ‘Good morning, Colonel,’ he replies. ‘Would you tell the barman we’ve raised a mighty thirst? You got my telegram from Ismailia?’ Newcombe informs him that they have been scouring all of Egypt for him.

‘How the devil did you get here?’ he asks, incredulously.

‘Couldn’t get a train - too much red tape - no priority, no tickets. So I stole a motorbike.’ Newcombe indicates to the barman to pour their drinks and while they both gulp down the refreshingly cold liquid he informs Lawrence that General Allenby will want to see him at once.

‘Allenby?’ asks Lawrence.

‘The new C-in-C. General Murray’s no longer with us.’

‘That’s a step in the right direction.’ Then Lawrence looks into Newcombe’s eyes. ‘Or is it? What’s Allenby like?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough. He’s known as ‘The Bull.’’

Another man steps up to the bar and introduces himself as Lowell Thomas. Newcombe informs Lawrence that he is an American journalist.

Sensing a scoop, Thomas states bluntly: ‘You’re the man who took Aqaba.’

‘The Arabs took it,’ Lawrence corrected him. ‘I went along for the ride.’

Newcombe, anxious not to disclose this important military success, explodes: ‘The story has not been confirmed!’

But Thomas has his story. ‘It has been now,’ he announces triumphantly. With notepad and pen in hand he probes for more information. ‘How many men were with you?’

Newcombe is enraged. ‘He can give no interview until he has reported to General Allenby.' He turns to Lawrence: 'Let’s go. You can change in my digs.’

Lawrence examines his dirty garments. ‘Change, why? They are a bit soiled but I have no other uniform.’

Exasperated, Newcombe takes him by the elbow. ‘Come along, then.’

Lawrence and Farraj are led off through the crowd of curious onlookers.

 

In 1961, Robert Bolt took over the task of rewriting the screenplay for director David Lean’s epic film Lawrence of Arabia from Michael Wilson, a Hollywood writer blacklisted during the McCarthy anti-communist witch-hunts. Bolt, himself an ex-member of the Communist Party and with strong anti-war leanings, kept a fair proportion of Wilson’s dramatic structure but made significant dialogue alterations which slimmed down the original script. In the scene shown above, Bolt changed its emphasis to include evidence of what he saw as Lawrence’s egomania. Bolt’s Lawrence was clearly neurotic and this key scene would eventually contain dialogue that emphasised this side of Lawrence’s character.

Another important change was made to the final version of the screenplay whereby Colonel Newcombe became Colonel Harry Brighton (played by Anthony Quayle), a composite caricature of a typical British officer, named after the archetypical British seaside town. A blunt professional soldier acting as a foil to Peter O’Toole’s angst-ridden portrayal of Lawrence, Bolt saw him thus: ‘…Brighton has to stand for the half admiring, half appalled disturbance raised by Lawrence in minds quite wedded to the admirable and inadequate code of English decency.’ Here was a description of a character created to fulfill a dramatic device, a kind of man for all seasons who bore no relation to the real Colonel Newcombe. He was written out of history, as portrayed as drama, and therefore out of the popular misinterpretation of the Lawrence legend. Bolt wrote a scene, cut and then later restored in 1989, in which Allenby said to Lawrence: ‘I believe your name will be a household name when you‘d have to go to the War Museum to find who Allenby was.’ It would also require determined research to find out who Newcombe was. 

Newcombe at TEL's funeral

Stewart Newcombe appears on a contemporary newsreel taken at the Dorset funeral of Lawrence, positioned to the right and in the middle of the wheeled bier, helping to steady the coffin with his left hand as it is pulled along the church path and out onto the country lane leading to the grave. On that crisp spring afternoon, 21 May 1935, surrounded by friends from all the periods of his life, Lawrence became once again Lawrence of Oxford, of Carchemish, of Cairo, and most famously and persistently, of Arabia - although as Sir Ronald Storrs once pointed out, ‘of any place for a little while’. For others gathered at the grave he was simply Shaw of the R.A.F.

Introduction to Beyond Arabia

Welcome to the first compilation of articles on and about the remarkable life of Colonel Stewart Francis Newcombe, R.E., D.S.O - legendary desert explorer, wartime hero and friend of Lawrence of Arabia, and lifelong supporter of Arab independence and Palestinian self-determination.

Colonel Stewart Francis Newcombe was already a legend in the deserts of Arabia before he was joined in Cairo during the early months of the First World War by a a remarkable team of Middle Eastern specialists. One member of this group was T.E. Lawrence who went on to achieve worldwide fame. Colonel Newcombe's story, like those of other unsung figures in the Anglo-Arabian narrative, has been eclipsed by the legend of ´Lawrence of Arabia´, and has languished in the dusty recesses of regimental records, government files or in the elliptical words of Lawrence’s book Seven Pillars of Wisdom. However, S.F. Newcombe´s untold story is there to be told. 

BEYOND ARABIA is a story of extraordinary exploits and courage, coupled with Newcombe's own legendary and inexhaustible supply of energy and of remarkable adventures under the very noses of the Ottoman authorities – full of danger, intrigue and perhaps more surprisingly, of romance during Newcombe's captivity in Turkey. In the years between the two world wars, Palestine became Newcombe’s main preoccupation, especially after his retirement from military service, and he spent many years in helping to achieve a just solution in relation to the promises that were made to the Arabs during the war in return for their active participation in support of the Allied cause. For this untiring effort he will be best remembered. This is his story.