The narrative of the Zionists in Gallipoli hasbeen written during the enforced idleness of thepast month—a month which has been spent inendeavouring to recover sufficient health andstrength to enable me to take a further, and, Itrust, a more useful, hand in the Great Dramanow approaching its climax.
In the following pages I have "set down noughtin malice," neither have I given a word of praisewhere praise is not due—and more than due. Myrelations with those with whom I came into contactwere excellent, and on the very rare occasionswhen they were otherwise, it was not due to anyseeking of mine, but, unfortunately, my temperamentis not such that I can suffer fools gladly.
My story is one of actual happenings, told justas I saw them with some suggestions thrown in,and if from these a hint is taken here and thereby those in the "Seats of the Mighty," then somuch the better for our Cause.
My chief object in writing this book is to interestthe Hebrew nation in the fortunes of theZionists and show them of what their Russian[vi]brothers are capable, even under the commandof an alien in race and religion. Those who havethe patience to follow me through these pageswill, of course, see that I am not by any means analien in sympathy and admiration for the peoplewho have given to the world some of its greatestmen, not to mention The Man who has so profoundlychanged the world's outlook.
London, 1916.
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