While we were breaking stones
and trundling squeaking wheelbarrows, however, the most disquieting
rumors began to drift in to us from our home villages. Plundering had
been going on in the name of "requisitioning"; the country was full of
soldiery whose capacity for mischief-making was well known to us, and it
was torture to think of what might be happening in our peaceful homes
where so few men had been left for protection. All the barbed-wire
fences, we heard, had been torn up and sent north for the construction
of barricades. In a wild land like Palestine, where the native has no
respect for property, where fields and crops are always at the mercy of
marauders, the barbed-wire fence has been a tremendous factor for
civilization, and with these gone the Arabs were once more free to sweep
across the country unhindered, stealing and destroying.
The situation grew more and more unbearable. One day a little Christian
soldier--a Nazarene--disappeared from the ranks. We never saw him again,
but we learned that his sister, a very young girl, had been forcibly
taken by a Turkish officer of the Nazareth garrison. In Palestine, the
dishonor of a girl can be redeemed by blood alone. The young soldier had
hunted for his sister, found her in the barracks, and shot her; he then
surrendered himself to the military authorities, who undoubtedly put him
to death.
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