It had passed through the trials, if not the perils, of war.  It had been the headquarters and base of a Turkish Army.  Great bodies of troops were never quartered there, but staffs and depots were established in the City, and being in complete control, the military paid little regard to the needs of the population.  Unfortunately a not inconsiderable section of Jerusalem’s inhabitants is content to live, not by its own handiwork, but on the gifts of charitable religious people of all creeds.  When war virtually shut off Jerusalem from the outer world the lot of the poor became precarious.  The food of the country, just about sufficient for self-support, was to a large extent commandeered for the troops, and while prices rose the poor could not buy, and either their appeals did not reach the benevolent or funds were intercepted.  Deaths from starvation were numbered by the thousand, Jews, Christians, and Moslems alike suffering, and there were few civilians in the Holy City who were not hungry for months at a time.

When I reached Jerusalem the people were at the height of their excitement over the coming of the British and they put the best face on their condition, but the freely expressed feeling of relief that the days of hunger torture were nearly past did not remove the signs of want and misery, of infinite suffering by father, mother, and child, brought about by a long period of starvation.  That a people, pale, thin, bent, whose movements had become listless under the lash of hunger, could have been stirred into enthusiasm by the appearance of a khaki coat, that they could throw off the lethargy which comes of acute want, was only to be accounted for by the existence of a profound belief that we had been sent to deliver them.  Some hours before the Official Entry I was walking in David Street when a Jewish woman, seeing that I was English, stopped me and said:  ’We have prayed for this day.  To-day I shall sing “God Save our Gracious King, Long Live our Noble King.”  We have been starving, but what does that matter?  Now we are liberated and free.’  She clasped her hands across her breasts and exclaimed several times, ‘Oh how thankful we are.’  An elderly man in a black robe, whose pinched pale face told of a long period of want, caught me by the hand and said:  ’God has delivered us.  Oh how happy we are.’  An American worker in a Red Crescent hospital, who had lived in Jerusalem for upwards of ten years and knew the people well, assured me there was not one person in the Holy City who in his heart was not devoutly thankful for our victory.  He told me that on the day we captured Nebi Samwil three wounded Arab officers were brought to the hospital.  One of them spoke English—­it was astonishing how many people could speak our mother tongue—­and while he was having his wounds dressed he exclaimed:  ’I can shout Hip-hip-hurrah for England now.’  The officer was advised to be careful, as there were many Turkish wounded in the hospital, but he replied he did not care, and in unrestrained joy cried out, ’Hurrah for England.’