I was young and
strong and healthy--and even if I had not been, the physical examination
of Turkish recruits is a farce. The enlisting officers have a theory of
their own that no man is really unfit for the army--a theory which has
been fostered by the ingenious devices of the Arabs to avoid
conscription. To these wild people the protracted discipline of military
training is simply a purgatory, and for weeks before the recruiting
officers are due, they dose themselves with powerful herbs and physics
and fast, and nurse sores into being, until they are in a really
deplorable condition. Some of them go so far as to cut off a finger or
two. The officers, however, have learned to see beyond these little
tricks, and few Arabs succeed in wriggling through their drag-net. I
have watched dozens of Arabs being brought in to the recruiting office
on camels or horses, so weak were they, and welcomed into the service
with a severe beating--the sick and the shammers sharing the same fate.
Thus it often happens that some of the new recruits die after their
first day of garrison life.
Together with twenty of my comrades, I presented myself at the
recruiting station at Acco (the St. Jean d'Acre of history). We had been
given to understand that, once our names were registered, we should be
allowed to return home to provide ourselves with money, suitable
clothing, and food, as well as to bid our families good-bye.
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