 High in the history of brilliant military masterpieces stands the capture of Jerusalem from the Turks by British forces under General Edmund Allenby. For his services in this decisive campaign of the First World War, the general was raised to the peerage, but there was another man, a man named Kelly, whose only reward was oblivion. And yet, Jerusalem would have remained uncaptured had it not been for Kelly's wizardry. It was in June of 1917 that Edmund Allenby took over the command of the armies of Egypt and Palestine. For four months thereafter, he devoted his energies to intensive preparations for a great autumn offensive against the Turks. And at last, in the middle of October, he was ready to begin the preliminary bombardment of the defenses of Gaza. And then he received information from one of his officers. But hang it, old man, we're ready to move. We've had plenty of water so far. We're our engineers. Let them dig for water. They have dug. They haven't found a drop. All that day, General Allenby brooded alone in his tent, his carefully laid plans, his hopes for personal advancement, his dream of a magnificent military triumph. All were shattered. And then, toward evening, the general's bitter reverie was broken by the sound of an unfamiliar voice. If you've no objection, General, I'll be having a word with you. Allenby glanced up into the tent, strode a disheveled, bewiskered man with a glimpse in his eye, and the face as Irish as his brogue. What do you want with me, fellows? Not a thing, General, but I think there's something you'll be wanting with me. It might be water. You mean you know where water can be found in this hellhole? Just say the word, General, and it won't take me long to discover it. And the best engineers in the British Army haven't been able to locate water. Maybe your engineers aren't properly equipped, General. A willow brown? She's a dulcet ride, sir. Or a diviner ride, as some folks call it. A divining ride. Oh, good Lord. You're a water diviner. I can't count on science, so I'm supposed to put my trust in witchcraft. Well, why not? I couldn't be any worse off than I am now. Not wanting his staff to know that their General was actually giving credence to the worst sort of charlatanism, Allenby waited until dusk before he slept quietly out of his tent into the company of Stephen Kelly. They made their way to the open desert beyond the outpost of the camp. For more than an hour, the two men wandered across the sand. And then suddenly, Stephen Kelly stopped and pointed with his stick. You can do your digging right here, General. You'll find all the water you'll ever need. All the next morning, British soldiers dug beneath the sand. And all the next morning, General Allenby sat in his tent, asking himself how he could be such a naive fool. And then at last, an officer breathless with excitement barged into his tent. We hit it, General. Right where you said. Carol Clear Spring Whopper, 13 feet. On December 9th, General Allenby dismounted his horse and entered Jerusalem on foot to dictate the terms of surrender. The world acclaimed his genius in the power of his armed might. And back in Cairo, an obscure Irishman smiled sardonicly, for he knew that his was the power, a power greater than that of guns and bayonets, a power incredible but true.