An Oriental Assembly – Aubrey Nigel Henry Molyneux Herbert (1880-1923)

Highclere Castle

The recent success and popularity of the ITV television period drama Downton Abbey reminded me that the country house that ‘plays’ the title role has a significant Middle Eastern association, linked forever with Egypt in particular, and by familial connection, with Newcombe and Lawrence. The master servant, upstairs downstairs drama uses the magnificent Highclere Castle in Berkshire for most of its external and internal scenes, with the servants' living areas constructed and filmed at Ealing Studios. Since 1679, Highclere has been the country seat of the Earls of Carnarvon, a branch of the Anglo-Welsh Herbert family. It is currently the home of the 8^th Earl and Countess of Carnarvon. 

Set in 1,000 acres of spectacular Berkshire countryside and boasting a park by Capability Brown, Highclere Castle is in the Jacobean style and was redesigned in 1838 by Sir Charles Barry, the architect responsible for rebuilding the Houses of Parliament in Westminster. Barry himself classified the style as Anglo-Italian.

Lord Carnarvon

‘Everywhere the glint of gold’

Highclere’s connection with ancient Egypt began through the patronage of the archaeologist Howard Carter by George Edward Stanhope Molyneux Herbert (1866-1923), who as Lord Porchester was known as Porchy Carnarvon. When Porchy, who enjoyed a bit of a gamble, became the 5^th Earl of Carnarvon after his father’s death he put some of his money into funding 16 years of excavations near Luxor in the Valley of the Queen’s, the Valley of the Nobles, the Valley of the Kings, and in the Nile Delta near Alexandria. Having decided that it would be the last year of funding excavations in Egypt, Porchy knew he had quite literally struck gold with the gamble of a lifetime when on 22 November 1922, after Carter had broken through to an inner tomb chamber, he asked the anxious question: ‘Can you see anything?’ What Carter had seen had literally struck him dumb with amazement - a room full of “strange animals, statues, and gold - everywhere the glint of gold.” After a pause to compose himself, Carter replied, ‘Yes, wonderful things.’ 

The discovery of Tutankhamun's nearly intact tomb received worldwide press coverage and sparked a renewed public interest in ancient Egypt. The Boy King captured the public imagination and exhibits of artefacts from his tomb continue to tour the world. His gold burial mask is not only a key attraction but remains a potent symbol of his status and power.

Highclere now houses a permanent exhibition commemorating this historic event.

Aubrey Herbert

The man who would be King? 

Porchy’s half-brother was the Right Honourable Aubrey Nigel Henry Molyneux Herbert, the second son of Henry Herbert, the 4^th Earl of Carnarvon, a British cabinet minister and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and his second wife, Elizabeth Howard of Greystoke Castle, Cumberland.

Aubrey Herbert was elected to the House in 1911 as the Conservative Member of Parliament for South Somerset at a time of great changes within British domestic politics but his pre-election travels made foreign affairs a more natural area of interest. He was forever drawn to the Balkans and took up the Albanian cause with vigour while keeping a watchful eye on Turkey where he had been an honorary attaché in Constantinople. His commitment to Albania led to an extraordinary hypothetical proposal when a delegation attending the Balkan Conference in London in May 1913 put to him the question of whether he would accept their throne. Lack of funds and not conviction prevented him for accepting. Seven years later the Albanians would not forget their friend and offered him the throne once more under different circumstances, and yet again he had to refuse for very different reasons. But his legacy to Albania still stands. “No one understood better the internal and external problems of the Albanians,” wrote the writer and editor Desmond MacCarthy. “And if it is asked what Aubrey Herbert most notably achieved during his public career, the first answer is that he contributed more than anyone to bringing into existence the modern independent state of Albania.”

Aubrey goes to war

On 1^st September 1914, Aubrey Herbert was shot and wounded as he rode his horse Moonshine at breakneck speed along the edge of a beech tree wood delivering orders to a division of the Coldstream Guards that was holed up in a copse near the village of Rond de la Reine, 25 kilometres south-west of Compiegne, France. Moonshine, a thoroughbred mare racehorse with an impeccable pedigree, had been purchased by Herbert only a few days before in a nearby village for forty pounds. She held up surprisingly well under the fusillade of fire that was sweeping the open field towards the trees and after Herbert was hit her racing spirit carried him onto his regiment where he was treated for a single bullet wound to his stomach. Later that afternoon Herbert became a prisoner of the Germans when they overran the woods where he lay injured on a stretcher.  He was moved to a makeshift hospital which was in turn retaken ten days later by the French, a scene replicated many times in the area during the confusion surrounding the ebb and flow of the retreat. 

Herbert underwent a second operation to extract the fragmented bullet that was still causing him considerable pain. Two days later he left France to transfer to hospital in England. On the way he passed the woods and witnessed the fresh communal grave of one hundred and twenty men. It was the 13^th September, exactly a month to the day since Herbert had landed in France. 

That he was in France at all was nothing short of an impertinent deception that could only have been carried out by someone with Herbert’s nerve. His shockingly poor eyesight, a defect since birth and put down to a congenital imperfection blamed on the consanguinity of his parents, would certainly have ruled him out for active service. So how did he come to be there? In a stunt resembling a university prank, Aubrey had brazenly walked into a military tailor and asked to be fitted out in a uniform of an officer of the Irish Guards. Then appropriately kitted out he later simply sidled up to the departing regiment as it marched out of Wellington Barracks at seven in the morning and joined their ranks as they crossed Vauxhall Bridge on their way to Nine Elms train station. Reaching Southampton he lost himself amongst the melee of soldiers as they embarked on a troop ship bound for France. Once on board he was somehow able to bluff his way into the regiment with the rank of Lieutenant as it steamed out of harbour.  In this most extraordinary manner, Herbert was on his way as perhaps the most incongruous member of the British Expeditionary Force. 

By mid September 1914, Herbert had returned to England to convalesce after his adventures in France. Before the end of the year he was to join Newcombe, Woolley and Lawrence in Cairo. In the meantime, he had three months to recuperate at his country estate at Pixton Park and bask in the love and good wishes of family and friends. As one friend wrote, ‘It was thoroughly characteristic of you to be shot and lost but equally characteristic to be found and healed. I would always put my last shilling on your luck in these little things...’ 

Before Herbert’s name was put forward for a role in the new Cairo set-up, he had thoughts of returning to the front, but his poor eyesight was finally exposed and he waited like Lawrence for Turkey to show her hand. 

The Turkish decision to side with Germany was a blow to Aubrey Herbert who had hoped for neutrality. He was eventually ordered to the east because, as he put it, ‘it had been my fortune to have travelled widely, and I had a fairly fluent smattering of several Eastern languages.’ This experience and knowledge would be put to good use in the new Intelligence department that would soon be formed in Cairo. 

Savoy Hotel, Cairo

Herbert travelled out by the slow route via Gibraltar. With him on the ship were Leonard Woolley and George Lloyd. Lloyd was an old friend who had shared the role of honorary attaché in Constantinople. They ran into heavy seas out from England and the ship pitched violently, although not enough to interrupt the chess games the men played to pass the time. While Herbert was studying Arabic his place was taken either by the architect Edwin Lutyens or the painter William Nicholson who had joined their group for the duration of the voyage. At Gibraltar the news that an enemy submarine had passed through into the Mediterranean kept everyone alert. Once they safely reached Cairo on Friday 18 December the men went to their appointed quarters. Herbert chose to take up residence at Shepheards Hotel where he was soon joined by his wife Mary and a few weeks later by his mother, Elizabeth, the Countess of Carnarvon, who left the comfort of Highclere Castle to be with both her sons after the Foreign Office transferred Aubrey’s younger brother, Mervyn, to Cairo. The Countess would arrive just in time to see them depart for Gallipoli. 

In the meantime, Herbert was assigned to the offices of Military Intelligence housed in the Savoy Hotel, positioned on a prominent corner of Midan Soliman Pasha and identified by its distinctive rotunda tower. Even before being taken over by the British Military, the Savoy was decidedly English in character, although Aubrey Herbert likened it to an oriental railway station, with its bustle and jangling bells and running to and fro. 

Herbert and Newcombe
Before long, Herbert became deeply discontented with his position within the office and began manoeuvring for a more fulfilling role. His frustrations arose principally from a clash with Newcombe, rather than from any real discontent with the duties assigned to him. In any case, most of the more mundane tasks, such as amending a large map to show current Turkish troop movements, were in fact undertaken by his batman, Johnny Allen, who went everywhere with him. Herbert’s dislike of Newcombe was class based and he made no attempt to disguise his disdain for the senior officer. He noted down his thoughts in his diary and even shared his views with George Lloyd, who tended to agree. Even Lawrence did not come out of this first round of character assessments too well, although Herbert’s description of him as ‘an odd gnome, half cad – with a touch of genius’, afforded Lawrence with at the very least a blended compliment, as well as providing future biographers with an eminently quotable phrase. Most first impressions in the office were apt to change over time. Not so with those formed of Newcombe by Herbert. 

Amongst this congenial coterie of university-educated amateurs, with their impeccable connections and impressive titles, Newcombe was clearly the odd man out. A professional soldier with years of loyal service, he was now in command of a group of what he might rightly have considered to be elitist dilettantes, albeit most of them holding perfect credentials and with highly relevant experience for the present undertaking. But it must have rankled, on both sides, and although Newcombe seems to have conducted himself in a thoroughly professional manner within the rigid and hierarchical military structure, his patience must have been sorely tested by men like Herbert who after all had donned his military uniform by deceit. With only a short period with the Territorial Army before the war, Herbert was likewise ill-equipped to deal with Newcombe. Unfortunately, these tensions were exposed most vividly during a testing time when the fledgling department was just getting off the ground and at the very moment the Turks were knocking on the door of the canal defences. Relationships were not improved when a memo written by George Lloyd listing Newcombe’s shortcomings landed on Newcombe’s desk by mistake. 

Herbert was moved soon after to field duties and tasked with an intelligence-gathering mission on board the battleship Bacchante that sailed the Eastern Mediterranean coastline watching for Turkish troop movements. After a few weeks, both he and Lloyd would be moved from Egypt to form the nucleus of a new intelligence department that was to serve the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force assembling at the Greek island of Lemnos in preparation for the invasion of Gallipoli. 

Throughout all this, Lawrence remained somehow detached from the squabbling within the office and managed to steer a neutral path between all the personalities. The letters he wrote at the time betray no hint of the problem and he remained loyal in his friendship with Newcombe and unwavering in his admiration for his abilities.

Herbert would go on to have many more adventures during the war, not least in undertaking a secret mission in 1916 with Lawrence to secure the release of the besieged British-Indian garrison at Kut-Al-Amara, 160 kilometres (100 miles) south of Baghdad, and commanded by General Charles Vere Ferrers Townshend.  Khalil Pasha, the military governor of the region, refused the bribe of two million pounds and therefore surrender became the only option for Townshend after about 1,750 of his men had died from wounds or disease during a siege that had lasted 147 days. Some 2,600 British and 9,300 Indian other ranks were rounded up and marched away, most to certain death. In fact, 70% of the British and 50% of the Indian troops died of disease or at the hands of the Ottoman guards during the death marches or in captivity. General Townshend sat out the war in some comfort on a small island in the Sea of Marmara, close to Istanbul, and was knighted whilst in captivity. Newcombe would later meet up with Townshend in Turkey when Newcombe, himself an escaped prisoner-of-war on the run, was secretly negotiating armistice terms with the Ottomans while under cover in Constantinople. 

In 1921, Aubrey and his wife Mary welcomed the Emir Feisal, accompanied by Lawrence, to their home at Pixton Park. In the evening, they all played bridge and chess while Feisal fretted about the future. Four months later he took the throne of Iraq. 

“At the dear journey's end”

Porchy, the Earl of Carnarvon, and his half-brother Aubrey died within a few months of one another in 1923, both from septicaemia. Porchy died in the Continental-Savoy Hotel in Cairo on the 5 April 1923 after shaving a mosquito bite, leading to wild stories about the ‘mummy’s curse’. Towards the end of his life, Aubrey had become totally blind and his right eye was removed to give his left a better chance. He was given bad advice to the effect that having all his teeth extracted would restore his sight. Some weeks later, perhaps remembering the advice or in answer to a twinge of toothache, he had several teeth extracted. The dental operation resulted in the blood poisoning from which he died on 23 September 1923 aged 43. He is buried in the Herbert memorial chapel at the Church of St. Nicholas in Brushford, Somerset, under a wooden canopy designed by Edwin Lutyens. His sword hangs over the tomb. 

Desmond MacCarthy wrote: “When to distract himself from the sensation of blindness he turned to memories of his early travels, the verses which he wrote are characteristic both of his muse and himself.” In this poem, Aubrey seems to take comfort in his memories and in the inevitable end to a life full of adventure and well spent:

Gold-dusted memories of the Past
Abide like friends, but falter,
Like morning mirages that last,
Yet lasting, later, alter.
Ah, was that mountain quite so high,
and had its flowers that scent?
Could winds be friendly and as shy,
That filled night's starlit tent.
And did it taste so good, that wine,
At the dear journey's end,
Beneath the whispering island pine,
Beside a singing friend?
God knows the answer to these things,
Man is a dreamer, age and youth,
And none forget the sound of wings,
No rainbow's traitor to the truth.
And if these colours were not fair,
As memory paints, still let them stand,
To be as perfect and as rare,
As all the ghosts of that dream land.

There is a fuller portrait of Aubrey Herbert in Desmond MacCarthy's introduction to Herbert's Mons, ANZAC and Kut.

The second series of Downton Abbey premiered in the UK on 18 September 2011, and is due to do so in the U.S. on 8 January 2012. A Christmas special is also planned.

This is the second of an occasional portrait on personalities from the desert campaigns of the Arab Revolt of 1916-1918

An Oriental Assembly - Bimbashi (Major) Herbert Garland

‘In loving memory of Major Herbert Garland OBE MC FCS 1880-1921 lost but found in 2004’ 

Herbert Garland

Behind this simple and enigmatic gravestone inscription lies the compelling and fascinating story of Major Herbert Garland, R.E., O.B.E., Military Cross, F.C.S., a gifted chemist and metallurgist who trained the Sherifian Arab Army in the use of explosives and demolitions during the Arab Revolt.  He had been a captain in the British Army in Cairo, having seen service in Sudan, and before the war he worked in Cairo as superintendant of a government explosives laboratory. Fascinated by the metallurgy of ancient artefacts, he was elected a Fellow of the Chemical Society (now the Royal Society of Chemistry) on 15 May 1913 and was later awarded a £10 grant to research ancient Egyptian alloys. During the first year of the war he invented a grenade and 174,000 were sent for use in the Dardanelles and Gallipoli campaigns. Photos in the Imperial War Museum (IWM) in London show ‘Garland and Natives experimenting on Garland grenades.’ These short-barreled floor-mounted howitzers were approximately three feet in length and set at an appropriate angle to fire the missile at the enemy. Experiments with this type of weapon were conducted by Garland and native handlers over the safety of the Nile, the resulting splash giving a fairly accurate estimate of distance.

At the beginning of his service in the Hejaz he was promoted from Sergeant to Major (known as ‘Bimbashi’ in the Egyptian Army) and worked alongside Stewart Newcombe and T.E. Lawrence until he retired from the field of operations through illness and exhaustion. His arrival in the Hejaz can be said to be when the active war against the Ottomans in the region truly started.

An Uninsurable Occupation 

It was as an explosives expert that Garland had been sent out to the unforgiving environment of the Hejaz to train irregular troops, preceding both Newcombe and Lawrence in attacking the Hejaz Railway, and it was in this role that Lawrence was to write that Garland's "knowledge of Arabic" enabled him "to teach the art of demolition to unlettered Bedouin in a quick and ready way. His pupils admired a man who was never at a loss", adding: "Incidentally, he taught me how to be familiar with high explosive.” In fact, Garland was to be the first allied rail-breaker to derail a moving troop-train in February 1917 near Toweira Station using a contact detonating device of his own design soon after he and Newcombe had commenced long-range attacks to the interior accompanied by Bedouin forces.

Garland developed what became known as the ‘Garland Mine’, an explosive device which soon became the preferred method for attacking the line as it was virtually impossible to detect when laid properly. Lawrence reported back that he observed eleven men searching for twenty minutes for one he had buried beneath the rails before they eventually gave up. He was equally impressed by the way Garland worked with high explosives and the tools of his trade: "Sappers handled it like a sacrament, but Garland would shove a handful of detonators into his pocket with a string of primers, fuse, and fusees and jump gaily on his camel for a week's ride to the Hejaz railway." This is also Lawrence’s description of working with a Garland mine: “Laying a Garland mine was shaky work, but scrabbling in pitch darkness up and down a hundred yards of railway, feeling for a hair-trigger buried in the ballast, seemed, at the time, an almost uninsurable occupation. The two charges connected with it were so powerful that they would have rooted out seventy yards of track; and I saw visions of suddenly blowing up, not only myself, but my whole force, every moment. To be sure, such a feat would have properly completed the bewilderment of the Turks!”

Diverse observations 

Garland’s observations on Bedu culture during his time in the region provide an interesting alternative to Lawrence’s narrative in Seven Pillars of Wisdom. His comments on slavery, medical matters, camels, Arab clothing, the conduct and behaviour of the Bedu, as well as his own frustrations regarding the conduct and progress of the campaign against the Ottoman Army, contain many light-hearted but perceptive observations designed to inform and entertain a post-war audience. He wrote up his observations and later lectured on the desert campaign and it is these lecture notes that now form the bulk of the Garland Papers held at the IMW, a gift of his last surviving daughter Mena who aged 92 lives in the USA. The notes are full of interest for those interested in the minutiae of the Arab campaign.

Garland, who as a young man had written a short romantic novel set in Guernsey entitled Diverse Affections, included in his lecture notes fascinating information often omitted from official reports, recording items of daily existence in the Hejaz with all its distractions and amusements. Here is Garland on an encounter with a hungry tribesman: “A certain Bedu told me that if I would pay for a sheep, he would eat the whole of it at one sitting. I did not think such a feat was possible until I watched him do it and had to pay one pound for the animal as I had promised. In addition to the sheep he devoured about three lbs of rice which he boiled inside it.” He was equally impressed by the agility of the Bedu and of their hunting prowess, especially in their simple but effective method of catching hares: “An Arab explained to me that a hare, when pursued, runs in circles, and that, after chasing the animal several times circumferentially, the huntsman catches it by darting across the diameter.” 

He also described life in camp at Wejh, the coastal town that had been occupied by Sherifian troops since January 1917. Wejh was strategically and psychologically significant to the future of the campaign, allowing the Arabs, with their British and French allies, to attack almost at will along the line and able to keep the Ottoman troops pinned down in their garrisons, “strung like beads on the long thread of the Hejaz Railway.”  While Emir Feisal was preoccupied with politics, labouring day and night in his counsel tent, the Bedu entertained themselves with boisterous parades and exhibitions of joy-shooting, often for no reason at all or to accompany victory parades. Inevitably there were accidents. One such incident occurred when a group, playful behind the tents occupied by Newcombe and Lawrence, became a little too inquisitive with a dud bomb from one of the seaplanes, a dangerous relic from when the town was first captured. The ensuing explosion sent limbs scattering among the tents whose canvas sides immediately became crimson stained. Those tents that could be washed were exchanged while the rest were destroyed as unfit habitation. Throughout the camp, spread out like a new town, guests were billeted according to status, rank and tribal association at varying distances away from Feisal’s hearth. One day a guest tent went up in flames and almost roasted its inhabitants alive. The crowd went wild and roared heartily with laughter until the fire extinguished itself and the injured could be attended to. 

Joy-shooting could also be extremely hazardous and a mare was seriously wounded by a falling bullet, along with many tents pierced during the hailstorm of metal. Garland was one officer who was appalled by the Arabs love for this sort of exhibition and noted that at the end of a successful raid on the railway the return journey always took less time than going out to the line. As the triumphant Bedouin raiders approached the Sherif’s tent they would set off an erratic feu de joie in which every member of the party would fire off into the air as many rounds of ammunition as he could spare, creating “a joyous and spectacular affair.” The resulting cascade of falling bullets went largely ignored except among many of the accompanying British officers who thought the display was wasteful and dangerous. Garland thought that he should have been provided with a shrapnel helmet while in the camps, “for a bullet fired vertically into the air descends with a very uncomfortable velocity, as I observed personally when one dropped beside me during a Bedouin demonstration.”  

Such were the amusements and diversions in the scattered camp now settled happily in the gulleys and sandy valleys which ran back from the land-locked harbour of Wejh. This low lying valley was edged by a steep coral shelf, below which Feisal had pitched his numerous tents, those for living and receiving visitors, and more for the accommodation of guests, staff and servants. Newcombe and Lawrence had been honoured with a spot on some heights looking down on the plain and where in the evening they benefitted from a refreshing sea breeze. Lawrence also thought he could detect a sea murmur that reminded him of the echo of traffic that can be heard drifting up from a London side-street. Below them were located the Ageyl tribesmen, colourful but fierce warriors who had entered the fight for Wejh half naked so as to not damage their precious clothes. On a more practical level they explained that it was to ensure a clean wound. 

Garland described his own desert attire as a frustrating encumbrance: “Except for a uniform jacket, (which I deemed wise to have with me in case of capture), I had discarded my uniform and was dressed in cotton pantaloons, a long white shirt with expansive, drooping, sleeves, a black mantle, and the Arab head-dress consisting of a shawl, with a head-rope, which fits on the head over the shawl. I wore European boots.” He later expands on his dislike of the Arab garments. “I have said that on this journey I wore a complete outfit of Arab clothing and I may as well add at once that it is impossible to conceive any form of raiment less suitable for the work I had before me. The outer cloak, which has two holes for the arms but no sleeves, is not fitted with fastenings of any kind and so has a most unpleasant way of slipping down one’s back especially when the camel is trotting. The ends of the headshawl, instead of lying in a seemly manner over the shoulders, answer to every little breeze, and have a playful habit of knocking the cigarette out of one’s mouth....” He ends his heartfelt complaint with the claim that: “Many a time during that journey I was reduced almost to sobs by the impeding behaviour of my Arab dress.”

His descriptions of Bedu medical practices and beliefs form a remarkable record of a lost world: “The Bedouin have their own forms of treatment for disease, the chief of which are bloodletting and branding. I saw a sheikh who had burnt huge patches on the soles of his feet as a cure for dysentery.” 

The mood changes 

Future operations against the line would not always be so full of that sense of optimism and confidence that had driven Lawrence to write, “The Arabs had passed from doubt to violent optimism, and were promising exemplary service.” An Intelligence Report written by Garland in mid May 1917 from Abu Markha highlighted the increasing frustration of some officers when working with Bedouin: “I am not sure that the taking of Bedouin parties is a white man’s job. They always leave you in the lurch. When laying my last mine, for instance, the instantaneous fuse accidentally went off in my hands and the whole party ran away and left me with Sherif Abdullah.”

Garland on camel

Over time, rail-raiding was to prove an arduous occupation. Garland was soon suffering from exhaustion and had become dangerously ill with dysentery. His commanding officer described him as ‘entirely broken down’, explaining he was unable to eat food and looked ‘a wreck.’ He was duly relieved of his duties and was pulled out of the theatre of operations for a period of rest in Cairo. Not yet fully recovered, he returned too soon to the field and immediately undertook a one hundred miles camel march in less than two days to deliver an important message. When he reached his destination he was once again in a very exhausted state. His description of camel riding is a delightfully amusing vignette, belying the true rigors of such a journey, as well as a warning to any newcomer to the harsh environment of the Arabian hinterland: ‘The camel’s gallop is not a thing for the novice to experiment with. A galloping camel with its immense stride gets over the ground very quickly, but to the rider it is a sort of cup-and-ball game in which he takes the part of the ball and spends most of the time in mid-air wondering whether he will land in the cup when he comes down.’

Before he retired from the field for good, Garland had successfully passed on sufficient knowledge to his Bedu pupils to give them the freedom to carry out demolitions on the line, and especially the line near Medina, without European assistance. For this outstanding work he was duly awarded the Order of the Nile, Egypt's highest honour. 

“Shortly afterwards he died.” 

Immediately after the armistice Garland was deemed fit enough to be sent to Medina, the last place to be surrendered by the Ottomans, with responsibility for overseeing the surrender of the town to the allies. The garrison’s commander, the redoubtable and stubborn Fakhri Pasha, refused to acknowledge that his advisor Captain Garland was an “Allied commander”, as stipulated in the negotiated terms of the Armistice signed at Mudros, and therefore ignored the order. Should Fakhri Pasha, the last knight of the last Sultan, a General of a Division and guardian of the Sacred Tomb of the Prophet, give his sword to a mere Captain, especially one that apparently held a political post? He held out too long for the sake of personal honour and was eventually lured to his capture by his own faltering subordinates who immediately contacted Garland to formalise the surrender.

Finally in 1919, Garland was appointed Director of the Arab Bureau in Cairo with the task of winding up its affairs long after its more illustrious members had departed. Palestine was now the centre of attention and with Ibn Saud’s Ikhwan warriors threatening the Hejaz from the east, Garland’s task soon became an onerous one. He still had plenty of bite and on 4 June 1919 he fired off a searing report, ‘The Khurma Dispute between King Hussein and Ibn Saud', but you feel he was more at ease in his simultaneous post as Superintendent of the laboratories at the Cairo Citadel Museum.

Garland returned to England in March 1921 and died of an aneurism after only six days in the country, leaving scant records of the circumstances of his death or of his last resting place.

After his death, his wife May fought bureaucracy to have a war pension awarded to her to support her family but the British government invoked obfuscation and a bewildering entanglement of red tape to avoid an obvious and compassionate decision. Colleagues would be enlisted to give their testimonies on Garland’s involvement in the war. Major W.A. Davenport wrote in 1923 that Garland’s death “if not caused by service in the Hedjaz, was certainly precipitated by this.” He added, “Only those who served there can realise the filthy unsanitary conditions we had to live under, the filthy water that had to be drunk, and frequently the Arab food that had to be eaten.” The government merely reiterated that Garland did not die of injuries caused in Arabia. It would take two and a half years before a pension was forthcoming, a fitting result supporting the final endorsement of his colleague Davenport who wrote: “No man worked harder for the success of the operations than Major Garland, and it was only due to dogged pluck that he worked on as long as he did in the Hedjaz.”   

Garland in the Hejaz

There the story would have ended but for the determination of a few surviving relatives and friends scattered around the world, utilising the internet and good old-fashioned detective work to unearth the whereabouts of a long-forgotten hero of a long-forgotten desert war, yet one more remarkable personality eclipsed by Lawrence’s legend. For nearly ninety years Garland had languished in an unmarked grave located near to the eastern wall of the old part of the appropriately named Gravesend Cemetery, 22 miles east of the City of London on the south bank of the Thames estuary. He was 38 when he returned to England from Egypt, seriously ill and with an already weakened heart put under further stain by recurring bouts of dysentery picked up in the desert campaigns. A friend of his daughter Mena found his grave in 2004, a discovery that would eventually unite far-flung family members and friends, and finally bring to public attention this remarkable untold story.  

Stewart Newcombe rode on many rail-breaking operations with Garland and shared many of his frustrations and disappointments. Lawrence was quick to praise Garland’s efforts but saw the weakness that eventually forced his removal from the region: “His health was poor and the climate made him regularly ill. A weak heart troubled him after any strenuous effort or crisis; but he treated these troubles as if they were detonators and persisted until he had derailed the first train and broken the first culvert in Arabia. Shortly afterwards he died.”

My thanks go to Herbert Garland’s grandson, Chris Mitchell, who has actively pursued the remarkable story of his grandfather from his home in New Zealand and sent the results out to the world. He generously paid this tribute to Newcombe in reply to my enquiries: "Stewart Newcombe saw so much more service than Herbert and it is a tribute to his fortitude that he came through relatively intact." 

Lost but found

I am especially grateful to Mena Garland, Herbert’s daughter whose friend was instrumental in helping to discover a long-lost grave, for donating her father's papers to the Imperial War Museum and allowing researchers access to the thoughts and actions of a forgotten hero whose newly erected headstone conveys the poignant epitaph: “LOST BUT FOUND IN 2004”.

This is the first in a series of occasional portraits of personalities from the desert campaigns of the Arab Revolt of 1916-1918.

See also this update on Garland's remarkable story: A young man's near miss 

Every uniform tells a story

Stewart Newcombe's Dress Uniform

This photograph of Stewart Newcombe’s Royal Engineers dress uniform represents one of those memorable moments in research when you come that little bit closer to your subject. Often it's through coming into contact for the first time with something they have written in their own hand, perhaps a letter, a report or a diary. There’s something about the condition of the paper, the stains, the creases and of course the style of the handwriting itself; small clues which might give you some idea of the circumstances in which it was written or of the writer's frame of mind. Without being an expert it's possible to sense all kinds of emotions within the controlled and measured field reports, such as urgency, frustration and anger, as increasingly became the case with Newcombe. But when he once wrote: 'I am told I'm not so popular as I was,' his words were clear and unambiguous, realising he had crossed the line in his dealing with the Bedouin tribesmen he had overworked in prosecuting the attacks on the Hejaz railway. ‘Nekoom’, as he was called by the Bedu, was not alone in his frustrations which were shared by other British military staff attached to the Sherif of Mecca's forces, officers such as Captain Henry Hornby and Bimbashi (Major) Herbert Garland. 

Newcombe’s desert campaign had started off well. After racing across a broad flat scrubland on a fast horse from the small coastal port of Um Lejj, where he had just landed, he caught up with Sherif Feisal's troops during their march north to take the town of Wejh. Lawrence offered him his spare camel and introduced him to Feisal who greeted him like an old school chum. As Lawrence later wrote, ‘at once they plunged into the midst of things, suggesting, debating, planning at lightning speed. Newcombe's initial velocity was enormous, and the freshness of the day and the life and happiness of the Army gave inspiration to the march and brought the future bubbling out of us without pain.'  But very soon Newcombe's war became a record of missed opportunities and disappointments. The frustrations he shared with other British officers led almost inevitably to Lawrence composing the Twenty-Seven Articles, handed down like commandments and giving instructions on how to work alongside the Sharifs and Bedu of the Hejaz. Lawrence's respect and friendship for Newcombe prevented him from openly criticising the senior officer but the inference is clear throughout the 27 points and in the Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Newcombe was ‘family’; when Lawrence wanted to criticise ‘outsiders’ he did so, but family affairs were kept within the family.

Col. Newcombe with medals

Newcombe’s dress jacket could tell its own story with its creases, stains and signs of age, from the missing regimental button to the frayed cotton bands that once secured the bar holding his medals, including his Gallipoli Distinguished Service Order, South African medals, the Mons Star, British War and Victory medals, the French Ordre National de la Légion d'Honneur, and Italian and Turkish awards. Below these there is a small reinforced thread that held in place the much larger Order of Nahda of the Kingdom of the Hejaz, second class, when worn without the neck ribbons. The jacket was smaller in size than I had imagined, considering that Newcombe has been described as rangy and even lanky, but perhaps for his time these were valid observations. His chest size was possibly no more than 38 inches (96.5 centimetres).   

Newcombe’s uniform and dress sword, laid out for me on the table of the library while I researched his involvement in the Second Boer War, added tangible evidence, if any was needed, of a life well spent in the service of his country – a life that has been overshadowed by an even more remarkable legend. It also reminded me of an extraordinary footnote to Newcombe's life.

On the death of Newcombe’s daughter, Baroness Elles, her obituary was carried by most of the leading newspapers. This resulted in a letter being sent in to The Times on 9 November 2009 by a member of staff from the London auction house that had handled the sale of Colonel Newcombe’s campaign medals in 1992, the very set that had been reported stolen during a burglary at the family home in 1955. Publicity for the auction had included a glossy house catalogue where the medals were described as ‘an important Gallipoli group’ and mentioning the ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ connection, along with a full and largely accurate biography of Newcombe comprising several pieces previously written by Liddell Hart. The writer of the letter stated that soon after the sale of the medals he received a phone call from Baroness Elles from her holiday home in Lucca, Italy, where the high-profile publicity of the Lawrence connection had alerted the family to an account of the sale carried by The Times. ‘I see from this morning’s Times you have just sold Daddy’s medals,’ she said to the startled auctioneer. When she disclosed details of the burglary, backed up by police reports, the deal had to be unravelled and the medals were finally returned to the Newcombe family thirty-seven years after they had disappeared. It was subsequently found that the widow of the police constable who originally came to investigate the robbery had put the medals up for auction, leading to the inevitable assumption that it was in fact the policeman who had taken them himself some time during his enquiries. 

As the auctioneer poignantly observed in reply to my enquiries, ‘It was a pity Col. Newcombe lived to see his medals stolen, but not recovered.’

Creating History: Lowell Thomas & Lawrence of Arabia

Lawrence and Thomas

A new on-line exhibit explores how American journalist Lowell Thomas helped create the 'Lawrence of Arabia' legend. Clio Visualising History has put together a dynamic website that tells the story of how "journalism can create legends and such legends can make history".

"Searching for a World War I success story entrepreneurial American journalist, Lowell Thomas, encounters an extraordinary figure in Jerusalem: a British army officer, T.E. Lawrence, who, dressed in Arab robes, had helped capture the Turkish port of Akaba. With a cameraman in tow and a ton of equipment, Thomas follows Lawrence into the desert, turns his footage into a multimedia spectacle seen by millions, and helps create "Lawrence of Arabia". Lawrence’s new celebrity and brilliant mind earn him a seat at the table when the map of the Middle East is redrawn."

The website can be found at http://www.cliohistory.org/thomas-lawrence/

Some reading suggestions

Books by or about T.E. Lawrence would fill a fair-sized library. Recently, in  connection with S.F. Newcombe's involvement in the region and its politics, I have been exploring the Israeli narrative of the years that followed the end of the British Mandate - what is in fact an Israeli re-assessment and re-evaluation of the evidence that has brought the region to its current situation. The following is a suggested selection of books on Lawrence and on the region, past and present:   

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA by Jeremy Wilson, 1989, William Heinemann Ltd, 0-434-87235-0

This is the authorised biography of T.E. Lawrence, running to more than 1150 pages (with notes) and essential reading for anyone interested in Lawrence, the Middle East and the history of the Arab Revolt during the First World War. Jeremy Wilson continues to publish Lawrence material through his Castle Hill Press in limited editions, typeset to fine-press standards and printed by high-quality printers.

HERO: THE LIFE AND LEGEND OF LAWRENCE OF ARABIA by Michael Korda, 2010, Harper Publications, 978-0-06-171261-6

In contrast, this is the latest biography of T.E. Lawrence published at the end of 2010. It is aimed at a general audience but is nonetheless the first major biography of Lawrence for some years. At least one book on or featuring Lawrence has been published every year since he died in 1935, along with a handful during his lifetime. Korda's biography relies on previous biographies when narrating Lawrence's life story but also brings in other aspects, such as his role as a writer and publisher as well as an assessment of his political ideas for creating a post WW1 Middle East.

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA'S SECRET AIR FORCE by James Hynes, 2010, Pen and Sword Aviation, 978-1-84884-266-3 

This book has been discussed in a previous posting (26 August 2010) and was also published in 2010, continuing the consistent publishing history of books on Lawrence.

LIFE AT THE CROSSROADS: A HISTORY OF GAZA by Gerald Butt, 2009, Rimal Publications, 978-9963-610-39-6  

A comprehensive yet concise chronicle of Gaza's history from ancient times to the end of the 2008-2009 Israeli war against the territory’s Hamas-led administration. Newcombe knew the town well from before WW1 and praised the Rev. Dr. Sterling of the Church Missionary Society for his  medical work in Gaza where the CMS opened the first hospital in the Holy Land in 1907, continuing today as the Al Ahli Arab (Anglican) Hospital. Newcombe's raid behind enemy lines contributed to unlocking the stalemate over the Turkish held Gaza-Beersheba line prior to the Third Battle of Gaza. 

PALESTINIAN WALKS: NOTES ON A VANISHING LANDSCAPE, by Raja Shehadeh, 2008, Profile Books, 978-1-86197-899-8

Palestinian Walks was the winner of the 2008 Orwell Prize and covers seven walks that the author, a Palestinian lawyer and writer living in Ramallah, regularly took over a 27 year period, chronicling the different stages of Palestinian history. It is a story that is infused with the author's pain and anger without the excesses of pure polemic. Jimmy Carter wrote: 'Palestinian Walks provides a rare historical insight into the tragic changes taking place in Palestine.' Stewart Newcombe also walked this way - before, during and after the First World War. His experiences took him on paths that were often contrary to the direction of his own government. I would recommend that you walk with Shahedeh and Newcombe to discover an endangered landscape. 

The same landscape, this time 'uncovered' by an Israeli, is portrayed in:

SACRED LANDSCAPE: THE BURIED HISTORY OF THE HOLY LAND SINCE 1948, by Meron Benvenisti, 2002, University of California Press, 978-0-520-23422-2

Benvenisti was deputy mayor of Jerusalem from 1971 to 1978 and as a young man accompanied his father, a distinguished geographer, throughout the Holy Land charting a Hebrew map that would rename Palestinian sites and villages (sites and names meticulously charted by Conder, Kitchener, Newcombe and the Palestine Exploration Fund) to correspond with Israel's ancestral homeland. In doing so, Benvenisti's quiet outrage, combined with meticulous scholarship, makes this a formidable critique of the Zionist myth.

"Landscape is the work of the mind," wrote Simon Schama. "It's scenery is built up as much from strata of memory as from layers of rock."

In Sacred Landscape, Benvenisti explains how an Arab landscape, physical and human, was transformed into an Israeli Jewish state.

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.

A Cartographer's Tool Kit et al

Theodolite and Gunter's Chain

A Cartographer’s Tool Kit

On the eve of the First World War, a team of military cartographers and surveyors, under Stewart Newcombe’s command, was sent out to measure and map a strategic triangle of southern Palestine - today’s Negev Desert – as part of a secret survey carried out on behalf of the British War Office between January and May of 1914. The survey of the region known since Biblical times as the Wilderness of Zin would gather vital information about a previously uncharted area, considered to be of military importance in the run up to any future conflict with Turkey. It would provide the Director of Military Operations in London with the missing piece of a jigsaw that was started by Conder and Kitchener’s extensive Survey of Western Palestine in the 1880’s, carried out on behalf of the Palestine Exploration Fund - the P.E.F. 

The Wilderness of Zin survey proved to be the last opportunity before the First World War to systematically gather reliable intelligence on the ground. By the time the War Office got their maps of the Sinai and the Negev, a shift to visual air reconnaissance had been introduced, augmented in the latter half of 1916 by photo reconnaissance. Some years later, Newcombe himself would explore a method of land contouring by use of the Thompson Stereoplotter on aerial photographs. But in the great surveys of Palestine, Sinai and the Wilderness of Zin the surveying teams in the field used the simple tools of their trade – theodolite, compass and measuring chain - essential components of a cartographer’s tool kit. What were also needed were ingenuity, courage, diplomacy and tact when dealing with local tribes or Ottoman authority. Newcombe was highly praised by T.E. Lawrence for possessing these qualities in abundance and paving the way for future travellers in the desert.

Suez Canal showing Sinai to the east

A resourceful and tenacious character, Stewart Newcombe’s life epitomized those robust Victorian qualities that helped paint the globe pink but whose life encompassed the eventual shift in Britain’s relations with its subject peoples and saw the beginning of the fall of the last of the great world empires, a life that spanned Pax Britannica to decolonisation. He died in 1956, just days before Gamal Nasser of Egypt nationalised the Suez Canal and three months before the débacle that became known as the Suez Crisis created shock waves across the region, when Israeli incursions into the Canal Zone "forced" Britain and France to attempt to regain control under a pre-arranged agreement known as the Sèvres Protocol. Politically it was a shoddy operation; militarily it was of benefit only to Israel which gained an outlet for international shipping through the Straits of Tiran, an 8 mile bottleneck between the Sinai Peninsula and Saudi Arabia that the Egyptians had previously kept shut with strategically placed guns to close off access for Israeli ships entering the Red Sea for routes to and from Africa and Asia. The fiasco also helped bring about the abandonment of the British policy of slowly nurturing the colonised people of Africa to self-determination. The cry now was for Britain’s immediate departure. Suez had been fought over by Britain for the last time; the crisis would prove to be the death knell not just of the British Empire but to all the empires of Western Europe.

Stewart Newcombe was not to witness the inevitable conclusion to the dismantling of the British Empire, but he would not have been surprised at its outcome.

A wind of change blowing across the Arab world

Newcombe had once helped protect the canal by mapping its eastern approaches. Where maps then held the power, cheap transistor radios were the new weapons, distributed widely by Nasser to spread the word of nationalism and unity across Africa and the Arab world. Today, the internet is the weapon of choice where the rallying cry of a new generation can be heard across the Arab world on Facebook and Twitter - a wind of change that is felt more keenly when the cry is heard by those without access to the media. The use of force by regimes against its own people now changes the situation, as seen recently in Libya and Bahrain, while around the world the wheels of diplomacy turn slowly. Before a U.N. resolution was passed on 17 March 2011 the international community appeared reticent to reach an agreement on how to intervene – in most cases it was an oil-driven paralysis that had not affected their response to Egypt, in others it is the risk of setting a precedent when their own domestic condition may trip them up in the future.  

Today we exist with the consequences left over from the end of the age of empire, where an occasional aftershock pricks our collective conscience, yet one more seismic shift in the new world order – a constant reshuffling of the pack. Regimes come and go - our response to them is judged by history.

Japan and the Newcombes

In the 1870’S Newcombe’s father, Edward, helped build the first railways in Japan under the accelerated industrialisation of the period known as the Meiji Restoration. Two of Newcombe’s brothers were born in Osaka. It was therefore inevitable that Stewart Newcombe should have become interested in engineering, and especially in the engineering and construction of railways. During the scramble for Africa he helped push the railways through Sudan; by 1917 he was to prove equally adept at blowing up railway lines in the Hejaz. My thanks and thoughts go to the followers of this blog from Japan who, my stats tell me, have continued to visit during the last few days.

A Prelude to War - Mapping Palestine, Sinai and the Wilderness of Zin

Eretz Magazine

I recently wrote an article for Eretz, a bi-monthly magazine published in Israel, which has now appeared in English after first being published in Hebrew translation last November. The magazine focuses on "the heritage, geography history and culture of the Land of Israel and the Jewish People". The article looks at the surveys of the Negev and Sinai deserts carried out by and on behalf of the Palestine Exploration Society (P.E.F.) both for peaceful and military purposes and naturally features Stewart Newcombe, T.E. Lawrence and C.L. Woolley.

As Newcombe was firmly in the Arab camp and a strong advocate for a bi-nation state in Palestine, circa 1922-1948, I was not sure if his anti-Zionist stance would sit well with the readers of Eretz. He held strong views on what he considered were acceptable levels of Jewish immigration to Mandatory Palestine in the years between the World Wars, based on his long study of the region, its people, infrastructure and resources. He tried in his own way to come up with proposals that were fair to both sides, as they stood at that time, but as he tended to side with anti-Zionist European Jews his arguments are often seen as biased and at variance with the parallel Zionist movement as well as his own government. 

The article highlights the role played by the P.E.F. in charting the history and culture of a thriving Palestinian society within Ottoman Greater Syria. In mapping the historical geography of the Holy Land, and in meticulously chronicling the process, the P.E.F. sought to recover a landscape that was already familiar to the Christian imagination. By retrieving the original map of the Bible from place-names of a predominiantly Arab and Muslim country, the P.E.F. documented an urban and rural geography that would be largely transformed following the future development and colonisation by European Jews, a group which by then had not fully emerged as a likely candidate for the 'redemption' of the land after its neglect by an Ottoman government in decline. 

Wilderness of Zin

The article also discusses Newcombe's secret military surveys, largely in the Negev region, carried out on behalf of the War Office under the guise of a scientific survey for the P.E.F. prior to the First World War. His post-war joint surveys with the French for the Boundary Commission, delineating the borders of the British Mandate of Palestine and the French Mandate for Syria, are still relevant today in Israel's relations with Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Egypt. This intimate involvement with the country would naturally contribute to his strongly-held views on its future, leading to his association with organisations like the Palestine Information Centre in London where he held the post of Honorary Secretary.

Most Israelis today - at least the "reading" public - accept that the Zionist narrative runs parallel to an Arab narrative and that both have equal merit. There is definitely a growing interest in the Palestine narrative and an attempt to get a more balanced picture of the Mandate and Pre-Mandate years - including an interesting re-evaluation of the merits of the Mandate itself and in subjects represented by figures like Newcombe, the British Empire and the P.E.F.     

Newcombe believed that the Arabs would not vanish like the mist before the sun of Zion and therefore thought that it was imperative that they had fair representation in the contest for the hearts and minds of those in lofty power who would ultimately bring about the fulfillment of the Balfour Declaration, with all its stipulations - important provisos which supported his firm belief that only by respecting native interests could you achieve a lasting consensus. He worked tirelessly towards that aim after consulting the opinions of his many Jewish and Moslem friends before reaching his proposals that he hoped would satisfy both Moslems and Jews as well as best serving the interests of the British Empire.

Entrance to Islamic Centre

Whatever his lasting impact on mapping the region or subsequently in his life-long interest and involvement in Islamic affairs, Newcombe refused to be satisfied and once exclaimed, 'I wish I could have done more'. A legacy to his prodigious efforts can be found in the maps, papers and records held in government files or in libraries alongside those of his friend T.E. Lawrence, with whom he will be forever connected. But perhaps it the invaluable assistance he gave in helping to establish the East London Mosque, the first purpose built mosque in London, that Newcombe's legacy to his Muslim friends is best illustrated.

Eretz can be found at www.eretz.com

A Mosque for London

The recent discovery of Stewart Newcombe’s involvement in the creation and development of one of London’s first mosques certainly adds a further dimension to his life and I wish to thank the archivist at the mosque concerned for his invaluable help in supplying the supporting documentation that illustrates Newcombe’s considerable contribution to this commendable endeavour. A full and public recognition for the assistance of the archive department will be made in the appropriate manner once the section has been completed.

It could be argued that coming at a time of national emergency during the early years of the Second World War the benefits of keeping the empire’s millions of Muslims on board were obvious and a mosque in London was an absolute minimum requirement, one that was "worthy of the tradition of Islam and worthy of the capital of the British Empire".

As a non-Muslim, Newcombe was not alone in giving his time and expertise to the enterprise. Others sitting on the management committee included Sir Ernest Hotson, who as Acting Governor of Bombay in 1931 was shot twice in the chest at point blank range by V. Gogate, a young revolutionary student who spent the next 6 years in prison alongside Mahatma Ghandi. Hotson remarkably survived, going on to help secure his assailant’s release and later sending him a substantial sum of money to help towards completing his education in politics. The cheque was duly accepted and proved to be a worthy donation in Gogate’s future political career in an independent India. Hotson served with distinction alongside Newcombe as Joint Honorary Secretary until his death two years later, making way for Newcombe to take over the role single-handed.

One other non-Muslim sitting on the mosque’s management committee was Lord Winterton who was recently mentioned in the Daily Telegraph (24.08.2010) for setting the desert on fire in his own inimitable manner:

Daily Telegraph - Lawrence of Arabia's secret X flights revealed in diary

This article refers to an entry in the latest Lawrence book to be published in which Winterton is mentioned as burning the breakfast for a group of men belonging to X Flight, a squadron of the Royal Flying Corps which in this book has been dubbed ‘Lawrence of Arabia’s Secret Air Force’. Of course, this group was not a ‘secret’ and not exclusively ‘Lawrence’s’.

Based on the diary of Flight Sergeant George Hynes, this latest book on Lawrence adds an attractive dust cover to the bookshelves but little else in the way of new or startling information on the desert war, except perhaps that it confirmed that it was George, on behalf of his fellow X Flight colleagues, who initiated the idea of sending a piece of rush-grass originally brought back from Aqaba to Lawrence’s brother Arnie when Lawrence died in 1935 with a request that it be placed inside his coffin. But even this small detail was already accessible to those with a keen eye in the form of a note in Paul Marriott and Yvonne Argent's book The Last Days of T. E. Lawrence, A Leaf in the Wind.

Congratulations must go to Henry Wilson and his team at Pen and Sword Publishers who have yet again produced an evocative and attractive cover, in keeping with the range of cover illustrations they produce across all military subjects. By making accessible information that was only previously available in archives, Pen and Sword have produced a book that is worth reading not only by Lawrence aficionados but by aviation buffs, for whom this title is also intended.

The green, green grass of home...

Informed viewers of the Rory Stewart programmes on Lawrence will of course have noticed the error made in the first few minutes of the first programme. Stewart stated that Lawrence was born into a middle class family in Oxford where he later went to school and university. As any Lawrence follower will know, he was born in Wales. One other error, repeated twice, was that while Lawrence was working with the Arabs his two brothers were killed on the Western Front. Of course, these events took place while Lawrence was behind his desk at the Military Intelligence Department based in the Savoy Hotel in Cairo. His brother Frank died in May 1915 and Will in September of the same year. It was to be a full year later that Lawrence made his first visit to the desert in October 1916 and the famous meeting with Feisal. Nevertheless, it seems that the programme was generally well received and Stewart's enthusiasm for his subject was refreshing. These errors did not detract from the general message of the film, which was well expressed, despite perpetuating the myth that there was only one member of the British Military Mission to the Hejaz driving the revolt forward. It is interesting to note that Stewart Newcombe was also born in Wales, although like Lawrence this gave him no particular claim to be called Welsh. Interesting still when you consider that the other famous railraider, Captain Henry Hornby, was also from Wales. Now there's a coincidence! 

The photo above shows Newcombe standing on the left wearing a white robe and Hornby on the far right in British military uniform and Arab headdress.

The Legacy of Lawrence of Arabia

Part Two of the Rory Stewart documentary, The Legacy of Lawrence of Arabia, will be shown on BBC2 on 23 January 2010 at 7pm. This is a revised time from the one originally advertised.

Part One can still be seen via the BBC iplayer at The Legacy of Lawrence of Arabia until the 23 January, although only in the UK. 

For those interested in early reviews - of Part One - look at the Daily Telegraph's  Lawrence of Arabia's legacy and the paradox of power and The Scotsman's The TV Review