The assault mixed artillery, infantry, and mounted troops in a complex plan that depended heavily on timing and communications. Early on, signs were good. Units captured parts of the Ottoman line. Mounted brigades swung around to threaten the town from the east. As afternoon shadows lengthened, some officers believed that with one more push they could take Gaza completely.Then confusion, dust, and fear did what Ottoman bullets alone could not. Reports reached headquarters that Turkish reinforcements were massing. Telegraph lines crackled with contradictory messages. Murray’s subordinates erred on the side of caution and began to pull back some of the attacking forces to avoid being cut off. The Ottomans, whose morale had been wavering, saw the withdrawal and rallied.By the next morning, the opportunity had gone. The British had taken heavy casualties without taking the objective. In April, a second attempt went worse. The Ottomans, now under the more dynamic overall direction of the German general Erich von Falkenhayn and supported by German officers like Kress von Kressenstein on the spot, had strengthened their trenches and artillery positions. The Second Battle of Gaza became a frontal assault against barbed wire, machine guns, and well sighted guns. The attacking troops suffered heavily, and once again the line held.For the men in the trenches outside Gaza, this looked like any other First World War fiasco, just with sand instead of mud. For leaders in London, it looked like something more dangerous. The myth that desert meant easy progress had died. If Gaza could not be taken, those neat lines in the Sykes Picot map and that fine sounding pledge in the Balfour Declaration would stay theoretical.Murray was replaced. In his place came General Edmund Allenby.Allenby is often remembered through legend and photograph. There is the famous image of him entering Jerusalem on foot in December nineteen seventeen, choosing not to ride or drive through the Jaffa Gate to avoid outshining the religious symbolism of the city. There are stories of his temper and his height. What matters for the campaign is something quieter. Allenby understood that guns and water would decide the next phase, but he also understood performance.He needed a victory that would resonate in London and Cairo. He also needed to convince the Ottoman command that he would do the obvious thing and then not do it.The obvious thing was a third attempt to slam straight into Gaza. So Allenby and his staff crafted an elaborate deception. Over weeks, they made sure that Ottoman observers and agents saw British forces massing opposite Gaza. Dummy camps sprouted. Wireless traffic increased. At the same time, engineers and mounted units worked on something that looked, on a small map, like a side road and, on the ground, like an enormous gamble.East of Gaza, the Ottoman line bent inward toward a town called Beersheba, sitting at the edge of the desert with its vital wells. If Allenby could seize Beersheba and its water before the defenders destroyed the wells, his forces could wheel north and roll up the Ottoman line from the flank while it remained pinned in front of Gaza. If he failed, thousands of men and animals could find themselves without water in enemy territory.The distance from the British starting positions near the Wadi Ghuzzee to Beersheba was roughly twenty five miles of rough ground. For infantry this was a long, exhausting march. For mounted troops, it was a hard but possible approach, provided the horses could be watered at the end.On thirty first October nineteen seventeen, Allenby played his card.At dawn, British artillery began a bombardment of Beersheba’s defenses from the west. Infantry advanced methodically, taking outer trenches. Ottoman defenders destroyed some wells and fought stubbornly. By mid afternoon, progress had been made but the town was not yet in Allied hands. The sun began to slide downward. Every passing minute meant hotter, thirstier horses.Then commanders of the Australian mounted brigades proposed something that would become legend and, more importantly, would crystallize how mobility, water, and psychology could intersect in desert war. Instead of dismounting and advancing on foot as usual, they would launch a mounted charge straight at the defensive line east of the town.This was not classic sabre swinging cavalry. The Australians carried rifles and bayonets. Their horses were hardy country mounts, not parade ground chargers. The plan relied less on shock in the Napoleonic sense and more on speed, dust, and surprise. Ottoman defenders were used to seeing the mounted troops dismount and attack on foot. A full gallop straight at them would be unexpected.Late in the afternoon, the Australian and some British mounted units formed up in lines. Bugles sounded. They surged forward across the rocky ground, first at a trot, then a canter, then a gallop. Ottoman artillery opened fire. Some horses went down. The rest thundered on. Turkish riflemen shot from trenches, but the fast moving targets and falling light made precise fire difficult.
