Book Review: Hard Lying, by Lewem Weldpm (Eland, 2023)
Note: this review was first published on 22 May 2023, on my Substack newsletter, The Traveller’s Literary Supplicant.
Reviewed by Christopher Deliso
Lewen Weldon, Hard Lying: An Intelligence Officer on the Levantine Shore, 1914-1919 (Eland Publishing, London: 2023), 173 pp., with a Biographical Afterword by Barnaby Rogerson.
First published in 1925 as Hard Lying: Eastern Mediterranean 1914-1919 (now, an expensive and rare first edition), this newly-reprinted memoir has been faithfully reproduced in affordable paperback format by London’s Eland Publishing, a company known for its unique travelogues and memoirs from the world over.
Added value comes with the Biographical Afterword by publisher Barnaby Rogerson, who was granted special access to Weldon’s personal diaries from his literary estate. Further, the book also includes several original photographs from Weldon and his ships, maps of the region, and an appendix with an important wartime letter from one of Weldon’s colleagues captured by the Ottomans in 1915.
Who Was Lewen Weldon?
A man who truly lived, Lewen Weldon (1875-1958) left us with a great tale of true adventure that is never boastful, and indeed, often self-effacing. Its depiction of harrowing events ranges from big-picture battles like Gallipoli to stealth expeditions in small craft to treacherous Middle Eastern beaches. A larger-than-life figure, Weldon is eternally lucky, surviving numerous ‘close shaves’ and shrugging off misfortune as he moves on to the next mission.
Weldon’s native wit, Arabic and French language skills, ability to easily get on with people of different backgrounds and countries, and careful assessment of both character and geographical and maritime environments made him ideally suited for his two main jobs: first, as a surveyor in Egypt in the pre-WWI years, and later, as an intelligence officer charged with recruiting and landing spies behind enemy lines from several converted cruisers during the war itself.
Anglo-Irish by origin (but always referring to himself as Irish), Lewen Weldon lived at a distance from Ireland, but was obviously aware of the conflict between both countries, though he does not mention it. He saw no contradiction between his nationality and his employment with the British Empire- a factor that made his post-war publication of the book especially important, as the ‘Irish volunteers’ were often criticized on principle by nationalists at home, and had a hard time readjusting to life in Ireland after the war. Weldon’s account is not only exciting, but it thus indirectly aims to restore some dignity to the experience of these oft-forgotten veterans, without being grandiose or self-serving in the process.
A Note on the Book’s Title
Before continuing, it’s necessary to explain the title, which derives from the world of nautical nomenclature.
According to the publisher, “‘Hard Lying’ is a term applied to a special [i.e., extra financial] allowance granted to men serving in small craft, such as destroyers, torpedo-boats, trawlers, etc.” (p. 8).
Although he only attained the rank of captain, Weldon became one of these small-boat operators, due to his sailing skills, linguistic knowledge and courage. He frequently accompanied local secret agents to and from the larger transport ship to and from the shore in the smallest of small craft- that is, the ones that landed directly ashore, ever-endangered by the perilous surf and possibility of Ottoman guards lying in wait in the darkness.
Nevertheless, Lewen Weldon was extraordinarily lucky, carrying out hundreds of successful missions and losing only seven agents during the war.
The Three Main Readerships for Hard Lying
There are (at least) three key audiences here: first, lovers of historical adventure in far-flung locales; second, military historians of WWI and naval intelligence operations generally; and third, historians of the ‘image-management’ of the post-war British Empire, with a special reference to (but not only) Ireland.
In whatever case, unless you’re a compulsive note-taker like me, the book can be read fairly quickly, as it’s written in a conversational tone that does not feel dated (though some of the references to early 20th-century companies, jokes and so on will be lost on the modern reader).
The ease-of-reading and swashbuckling tales of maritime adventure in Hard Lying do, however, belie the book’s significance for historians of both the WWI Eastern Mediterranean theatre in specific, and the evolution of intelligence, special operations, and technology in general. The policies and processes described here would influence those of later conflicts.
Indeed, while the author is writing from the perspective of a British intelligence officer, the action and events he discusses have relevance for the future intelligence and naval policies of countries that did not even exist at that time, such as Turkey, Israel and Egypt. If we want to understand why certain East-Med events and policies have transpired as they have, a close reading of Hard Lying often points out some possible clues to national memory and adaptation in the maritime sphere. The same goes, of course, for how powers like the US and UK would learn from WWI in this region.
Another intriguing aspect of Hard Lying concerns Weldon’s Anglo-Irish roots. Although born in England to a clergyman, he had landed aristocracy on his grandparents’ side in Ireland (and, in the case of his wife, an Irish family tracing its local roots back to the 4th century, Rogerson writes). Weldon graduated from Trinity College Dublin, and often summered with his Irish uncles, Rogerson notes, before he began his civil service tenure at the turn of the century.
These details make Hard Lying of value to historians of Ireland, and the varied public perception there of Britain and Irish volunteers in the Great War. Considering its appearance in 1925, one must recall that it would have gone through the UK military censors, who had previously sought to suppress the Gallipoli memoir of Scottish-born Australian soldier (and future humanitarian) Sidney Loch, on the grounds that its depiction of the debacle there might damage morale.
In Hard Lying, on the other hand, we see the effective rehabilitation of General Maxwell – Weldon’s main military boss through the war’s first half in Egypt – who is of course infamous for his heavy-handed suppression of the April 1916 Easter Rising, after he had been transferred to Dublin. Yet in Hard Lying Maxwell is portrayed as a competent and gracious general, which perhaps he also was. And there are no mention of wartime events in Ireland, only the author’s general nostalgia (Weldon’s wife, child and much of his family were there and he could communicate only by the occasional letter). The author’s lack of national sentiment is however is perhaps not surprising, considering that he had been working in the Egyptian Civil Service since 1901 and was effectively a loyal British subject. And, most fundamentally, the book was written to closely document his own personal adventures in the war, and he is very conscientious to exclude anything that might be extraneous.
Lewen Weldon as a Primary-Source
Since Weldon states from the beginning that he has relied on a personal diary for much of his book, he generally manages to keep very specific and dated accounts of battles, meetings and secret missions. This lends a unique account, often by the hour, to when special operations actually happened (or, just as often, were cancelled due to bad weather or mechanical failures).
For historians, these precise recollections thus provide an excellent first-hand supplementary account to official histories and other sources. Weldon also does not embellish his accounts- to the contrary, he even cites an example of one censored letter from a British Bluejacket who had accompanied him on a landing and (probably, to impress his family back home) made the event out to be much more dangerous than it actually had been.
Structure, Contents and a Brief Chronology
After the author’s Foreword and several pages of maps, Hard Lying unfolds in 18 chapters, an appendix, and publisher Barnaby Rogerson’s Biographical Afterword. The middle of the book also contains several pages of original photographs of Weldon, his ships, and the people and places in which he operated.
Generally, with the exception of the chapter on the Gallipoli Campaign and a chapter on special operations further south in the Red Sea and Arabian shores, Weldon’s main axis of operations was dictated from GHQ in Cairo, with the most common point of departure being Port Said. Famagusta in British-held Cyprus is an indispensable rear base of operations for both the Middle Eastern and Anatolian coastal operations and, when the combined British-French operation really starts working, Weldon’s narration is frequently of triangular sailings between Port Said, the Syrian coast, and Cyprus.
The French contribution in this theatre of operations included both ships and seaplanes; at the time, Weldon’s retrofitted (captured) German vessel became one of the world’s first aircraft carriers, capable of bringing aboard these seaplanes with a large winch. Typical missions would involve a French pilot and British observer who took notes and made reconnaissance of enemy troop movements. Less frequently, these seaplanes also bombed targets.
For much of the war, the relative lack of Ottoman or German planes gave the Allies air supremacy in the Eastern Mediterranean, and the few accidents that occurred were due to engine trouble or mishaps. As the war intensified, German and Austrian submarines became an increasing nuisance in the Eastern Mediterranean; several ships were torpedoed by these unseen adversaries. In the later stages of the war, German air attacks, even on Port Said, became an occasional but real threat as well.
The author’s chronology starts from the outbreak of war in summer 1914, when he is just going on leave from Egypt. He is soon recalled from Britain and put to work on an exciting new assignment, for which he credits General Maxwell. It is not until the end (and publisher Rogerson’s Biographical Afterword) that the reasons for this reassignment become obvious. For while Weldon had been employed by the Survey Department since 1901 (taking him from the Nile Delta to its headwaters and the Sinai Peninsula), from at least 1911 his survey work took on a decidedly military nature, and he was reporting to the military. For example, he collected information on railway routes in the case of a hypothetical war; and, on his own initiative, Rogerson writes, Weldon mapped all desert oases- an intelligence coup which would become invaluable for the British military during the war.
Details like this are why, for serious students of history, reading the Biographical Afterword before the actual text might be beneficial. Weldon is so self-effacing (and, possibly was limited by the restrictions of the official censors) that he does not describe his full background or work in context; instead, he sets out to tell a proper good story, and in this he succeeds. The fact (valuable to historians) that he names so many of his colleagues, one must assume, was done partly out of the author’s wish to give as much of the credit for his success to others. On the other hand, what he assumes would ‘bore’ the reader (like further specific details of his individual missions) are definitely not dull for readers over a century later. Indeed, the only real criticism is that the book is not longer.
Thus, Weldon follows his rushed entry into the war and reassignment with an introduction of some of the crew he gets, as well as their repossessed German ship, the Aenne Rickmers (later, the Anne). It is torpedoed, however, and put in for repair at Mudros Bay in Lemnos, where by spring 1915 the British fleet was slowly amassing for the Gallipoli Campaign. Weldon does not have to experience that campaign through to its end, though, as the boat’s repair and new orders send them back to Egypt, and their main activity of landing agents on enemy shores and sending up seaplanes with the French can resume.
This continues until October 1916 (Chapter 10, ‘With the Hejaz’) when they make the first of a few trips past Suez and into Arabia, to perform reconnaissance and liaise with local Arab chieftains- a convergence of activities between the Egyptian/Mediterranean fronts and the British Mesopotamian Campaign that would have far-reaching effects for future political developments in the post-Ottoman Arab world. Some of the most riotously comical events occur in these chapters (a bullet whizzes by Weldon’s cheek, fired by a friendly Arab trying to ‘get his attention,’ for example) and the crew enjoys swimming (while keeping on the lookout for sharks), and catches 200 pounds of fish.
Still, it is their work on the Syrian and Anatolian coast that dominates the book, and to these Weldon returns in the final chapters, when he has been entrusted with a different vessel, the Managem. He narrates numerous harrowing encounters in landing agents and trying to outwit the Turks on several fronts. Weldon speaks particularly highly of his Syrian boatmen (a father and three sons from the coastal village of Surr), and of several brave agents from the Jewish coastal colony of Athlit. One of the latter, a woman, heroically shot herself under Ottoman torture rather than divulge the secrets of the British mission.
In the final chapter, when the war is winding down, Weldon and his captain, Cain, are excited to be called by the Admiral himself, who orders them to personally tour the Syrian coast and ascertain whether Turkish forces had left. In town after town, they are greeted with cheering local populations and British forces quickly advance. Weldon and Captain Cain are particularly proud at the end when the Managem becomes the first Allied ship to enter Beirut since 1914.
Although the author concludes his narrative with his 1919 shipping out of Egypt following the war, and does not provide any reflection on either post-war changes in Egypt or Ireland, fortunately Rogerson’s Biographical Afterword adds valuable context on both issues. The information he provides about Weldon’s ancestry, education and later life (and particularly the story of how he himself came to know Weldon’s literary heir) is fascinating.
So too is the account of how post-war Egypt, like Ireland, was riven by nationalism. Rogerson discusses how British policy-makers misjudged the national spirit in Egypt and acted too late to grant increased freedoms and a semblance of self-rule. For veterans like Weldon, who had contributed so many years of toil and indeed risked their lives repeatedly in the country, it must have been a difficult experience to witness anti-British attacks and protests. Yet from the book itself, which is eternally sanguine in tone, one would never know it.
Operations, Methods and Technological Innovations
Aside from the specifically historical value of the detailed narration, Hard Lying provides rich picking for analysis of operations and methods- possibly, even more than the author had intended to share. As such, the book covers (albeit patchily and in anecdotal form) everything from British civil and military structure to methods of intelligence-gathering, the use of the wireless transmitter, submarines and aircraft, agent recruitment practices, mapping and target selection, weather and landing practices and so on.
In the course of his narration, Weldon reveals details that seem minute but which are of the utmost importance. For example, their secret landings always take place on moonless or near-moonless nights, to minimize the risk of enemy sighting, without lights. Weldon learns to use stars as points of orientation back to the main transport ship, and describes how he brings in the landing craft with stern facing the shore to expedite a hasty exit, if needed.
As the war proceeded, the British military intensify the ingenuity of their operations, which changed from being simply information-gathering behind enemy lines to sabotage and targeting of Turkish barracks and railways with Bond-style devices like exploding fake rocks set on timers. This sort of activity prefigured the WWII SOE, of course. And the caution they exercised is evidenced by comments about paying agents in gold with mint dates that exclusively predated 1914 (and the war). Weldon also notes having to deceive his own countrymen (such as the case of a nosy Englishman in Port Said who pondered aloud why they only seemed to sail when there was no moon). The ever-unflappable Weldon always had a quick response that put others at ease and defused problems before they could get out of hand.
These revelations are all the more remarkable considering that post-war censors might not have wanted potential future adversaries to have open access to British methods, but apparently they saw no harm in it. One of the most remarkable revelations comes when Weldon interprets a coded message from one of his captured airmen, from an otherwise innocuous-sounding letter sent from a Turkish POW camp. The message – which could only have been known to him – bore no similarity to its context, and verified the operational question that the failed mission had set out to answer.
Gallipoli and Attitude to the Irish
Owing to its fame and controversy, the Gallipoli Campaign is bound to be a chapter of equal interest to readers today, just as it would have been to those of Weldon’s day. There is of course a vast literature on this already, but what stands out for an author writing in 1925 is the relatively non-critical tone of Weldon’s coverage. Partially this was due to his tendency to not seem overly expert on anything above his personal competence and rank, but also perhaps it is due to the fact that he was not there until the end. Whatever the case, Weldon emphasizes the “gallantry” of the Allied soldiers in the Campaign, and minimizes (most) criticisms of the general operational planning.
Still, somewhat by accident, he reveals an extraordinarily poorly planned operation in which thousands of Allied soldiers (among the first being many Irish) were sent to needless deaths against heavily entrenched enemy forces. The landing soldiers had to advance through waters that were strewn with barbed wire and mines, while being fired at from several directions.
Luckily for Weldon, being an Intelligence Officer, his duties were not to storm the beaches but to update the targeting maps on ship, so that as ground was gained, the ships could adjust their shelling. He thus discusses the method that Allied troops use for displaying a red flag and then retracting it, so that the on-ship gunners would know their location as they advance and secure new territory through the smoke and chaos of war. The need for this system arose due to unfortunate ‘friendly-fire’ casualties. As the author notes, “The previous day one of our shells had burst right on a party of our men and had knocked out many of them” (p. 56).
Weldon also notes that after initial slow progress the Irish units, together with some of the English ones, made progress. He describes how they “cleared the village of snipers and gradually worked their way up the slope, taking trench after trench by short rushes, till in the afternoon they took the old castle itself at the point of the bayonet, and held it, firing on the Turks, who retreated down the other side of the ridge” (p. 57).
Weldon also mentions the death of the division’s priest, Father Finn, “a most gallant man” who had insisted on landing with the troops to administer last rites to the dying (p. 57). The next day (April 27th) was devoted to more shelling and bringing the wounded soldiers to the ships. Weldon notes that most of the ships that could provide first-aid had been left at Mudros, another planning mistake.
Weldon then explains his own contribution to the campaign:
“Personally, I was occupied all day in looking after the ‘spotting map’ on the bridge. When a signal was received saying an enemy’s gun, trench or body of troops had been observed on such a position on the map, it was my business to find it and point it out to the Admiral” (p. 58).
Temporary Allied successes allow Weldon to land, in order to perform reconnaissance. He describes ascending toward the village’s old castle despite occasional sniper fire, and past dead bodies from both sides. The chapter ends with a macabre encounter with a severely wounded Irish solider:
“A little way up I came across a Dublin sitting smoking with his back against a rock. His leg was badly shattered, the bone sticking out through the skin. He had bound it up as well as he could. I stopped and spoke to him for a bit and told him not to let anyone remove his bandage till he was safely on board a hospital ship, where he could get proper attention, or else he ran a risk of tetanus. He was quite cheerful, and when I said I was sorry for him, he replied, ‘Shure, sir, and amn’t I better off than them poor boys?’ pointing to about thirty dead Dubs and Munsters lying close to him” (pp. 59-60).
This is the sort of descriptive attitude that Weldon uses to emphasize the quiet, selfless heroism of the common soldier of the Great War. We do not learn whether this man was ever evacuated as promised, or whether he just died first. But (whether or not anecdotes like this were completely true), they do point to one of Weldon’s narrative approaches, that is, commemorating the Irish volunteers as honorable and courageous veterans on an equal footing with other Allied soldiers. Given both the difficulty which many of these volunteers had in reintegration into post-independence Irish society, when anti-British sentiment was higher due to the war, it is easily understandable that the powers-that-be in both countries would have been happy to see memoirs like this one, portraying Irish veterans in a positive light.
Conclusion: Hard Lying for a Light Read or Longer Study
While reading, I simply could not resist the urge to take dozens of pages of notes of my favorite passages, key dates, facts and other worthwhile information. The beauty of Hard Lying is that one can do this, if so inclined, just as easily as one can simply kick back and read for the pleasure of it.
In short, Hard Lying repays a read from both general-interest and academic audiences, and it will certainly transport armchair travelers back into another and now lost world. While Weldon does not aspire to craft spectacular prose, his simple and honest descriptions of people and places are refreshing and often, amusing. He visits places both famous and obscure, and his perceptions and descriptions of them are – if usually too brief – of great interest. So too are his wry observations of human nature, particularly when faced with the pressures of war.
So whether you seek to understand the roots of modern-day regional naval policies, the reasons for the decline of the British Empire, maritime intelligence history, or simply seek an enjoyable escape in a classic true-adventure story from the Near East, Hard Lying is a richly rewarding and accessible read.