Another letter came from F---- a month later, this being in answer to
one I had rushed off on receiving the card announcing his departure
for the Persian Gulf:--
“You ask what we are driving at here, by which I suppose you mean,
‘What is our plan of campaign?’ This, obviously, is a question I can
answer only in the most general way. Our principal purpose in the
present campaign will be the occupation of southern and central
Mesopotamia up to and including the cities of Bagdad and Kerbela, a
region roughly corresponding to what might be called ancient Babylonia
proper. Our objective in this is twofold. First, to gain control of
all the irrigated--and hence highly productive--portion of the
Tigro-Euphrates Valley, and, second, to establish ourselves strongly
upon the flank of Persia in the event that that country should show a
disposition to make common cause with our enemy.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE TIGRO-EUPHRATES VALLEY, Where the
operations against Bagdad were carried out.]
“There is little doubt that the advance to Bagdad will be a fight all
the way. The most difficult country will be that between here and
about fifty miles north of where the Tigris and Euphrates come
together. Most of this area is marshy all the year, and practically
all of it will be under water from the spring floods by the time we
are ready to get into it. An endless network of ‘canals’ and backwater
channels makes it practically impossible to advance on foot even
across much of the overflow country, and one of the main reasons for
our long halt in Bassorah has been the training of our men in the use
of the various native craft which will have to figure in our
transport. Luckily, the Turks will be under the same handicap as
ourselves in this region, and our superior artillery and organisation
are sure to give us the ‘edge.’ The real fighting is going to come
when we emerge upon the level alluvial plains of Central Mesopotamia.
Here the enemy will have the Bagdad railway at his back, and, without
doubt, a pretty complete little system of German-made light railways
to keep him in munitions and food.
“It may be that it will take us to the end of 1915 to attain our first
goal. Then, if a decision in Europe has not been reached in the
meantime, our next general advance would be up the Tigris to Samara,
Tekrit, and Mosul, and up the Euphrates to Hitt and Deyr; this advance
would place in our hands an upland grain-growing region of
considerable productivity. Still another campaign would have to be
launched to occupy the country up to a line from Aleppo to Mardin or
Diarbekir; but Russia should reach this region from the Caucasus
before we can get there from the south. Upon the guns and munitions
which the Germans are able to send through to Bagdad will depend the
character of the stand that the Turk is going to make in Babylonia.
“But what a game it is going to be, this fight for the old Garden of
Eden,--with the high-banked canals and the crumbling walls of Babylon
and Hitt serving for trenches and forts, and the _khans_ which
sheltered Ali Baba and Haroun-al-Raschid as outposts! Why, the
‘G.C.C.’ and I have even discussed how we are going to use that
isolated old _tepe_ of Birs Nimrud--which some call the ‘Tower of
Babel’--when the time comes!
“Our transport for the new campaign will probably be the most
remarkable thing of the kind ever assembled. The fact that the
country into which we are advancing will be largely under water will
compel us to become practically amphibious. On land we are using
camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, while on the water the services of
everything, from the native _balems_, _gufas_, and _kaleks_ to
shallow-draught gunboats and river-steamers, will be in demand. The
old Bagdad side-wheelers have all been converted into gunboats, but
even their slight draught of five or six feet is too great for all but
the main river-channels. One of these, by the way, went into action
the other day with an armour improvised from mats of dried dates. Of
course the Turkish shrapnel made an awful mess of it, and, I am sorry
to say, also of the chaps behind it.
“The direction of the training of our men in the use of the native
watercraft has been one of my recent duties. The _balem_ is a
gondola-like sort of boat which has long been used for passenger
transport on the canals and rivers of this region. It may be rowed,
sculled, or paddled, and since it is of fairly stable equilibrium, the
men are not long in mastering it. The _gufa_, however, is quite
another matter. It is a slightly flattened ball of woven reeds covered
with pitch, having a hole from five to ten feet across at the top to
receive passengers and freight. It is propelled by paddling, now on
one side, now on the other, and two or three old hands can make very
fair progress with it. A novice, however, can do little more than make
the thing spin on its own axis. Moreover, he invariably renders
himself still more helpless by laughing at his own uselessness; and
although some of the more serious-minded Sepoys have made considerable
progress in handling the _gufa_, I am afraid we shall never be able to
make Thomas Atkins, or his equally frivolous comrade-in-arms, the
Ghurka, take it as other than a perpetual joke.
“A score of miles to the north of here, a few days ago, a dozen
dismounted troopers, in lieu of anything better to hand, tried to
cross a broad back channel of the Shat-el-Arab in a _gufa_, in order
to dislodge some troublesome Turkish snipers. Their best efforts,
however, served only to send the contrary craft bobbing down their own
bank, the finest kind of a mark for the enemy’s sharpshooters. The
latter (I have this on the word of the sergeant whose misplaced
enthusiasm was responsible for the trouble), evidently highly amused,
held their fire until after the ‘marines,’ as they have since been
dubbed by their comrades, had kicked a hole in the bottom of the
_gufa_ and been compelled to take to the water. The few scattering
shots fired even then were apparently sent only with the intent of
‘shooing’ several belligerent Tommies back to their own side, for the
only casualty reported was the drowning of a man who, in the language
of one of his surviving comrades, ‘caught ’is bloomin’ spur in the
bally goofy an’ got ’eld under water.’
“Which incident reminds me to say a word for our old friend, the Turk,
as a sporting fighter. Of course, we knew all the time that he was a
first-class offensive fighter and a superlative defensive one; but,
because for years we have known him under such characterisations as
‘The Terrible,’ and ‘The Unspeakable,’ we had come to expect from him
a programme of ‘frightfulness’ quite in keeping with that of his
allies of the Occident. That nothing of this character has been in
evidence is one of the most refreshing surprises of the campaign. I
can only set down here one of a number of instances in point which
have fallen under my observation.
“You doubtless read in the papers that the Turks made an attempt in
some force to recover Bassorah a few weeks ago, going by boats to
Nasire, on the Euphrates, and marching from there around the
inundation area to approach this point from the west. Fortunately, one
of our ‘friends’ sent us word of what was afoot, and we were able to
prepare a proper reception at Shaiba. It was after we had beaten them
back at this point, and while they were fighting rearguard actions in
a most cleverly conducted retreat, that the incident I have in mind
occurred. I was out with, though not in command of, a troop of cavalry
which was pressing the pursuit a considerable distance ahead of our
main force. About eleven o’clock in the morning we found our way
blocked by a small detachment of the enemy which had been left to make
a stand at an isolated _khan_, one of those walled desert
halting-places of the caravanserai order,--really more of a fort than
a tavern.
“There was no use in trying to dislodge the Turks until the guns came
up, but, unluckily, about a dozen chaps, out of touch with their
officer, attempted to rush the gate ’on their own.’ The enemy coolly
let them come on to about a hundred yards from the _khan_, and then,
unmasking a machine-gun, dropped them all in a space not fifty feet
square. A rifle volley brought down the three or four reckless spirits
who, in spite of wounds, staggered to their feet and lurched ahead.
Taking advantage of the cover afforded by a pair of old canal banks,
we managed to get up within about three hundred yards of the _khan_
gate without exposing ourselves dangerously, there to wait for our
field guns and to be ready to make it lively for our Turkish friends
in case they tried to evacuate in the meantime.
“For a while we thought that, mercifully, no life remained in any of
the still, sprawling brown figures in front of the _khan_; but
presently, with his face covered with the dirt a sniper’s bullet had
thrown on it as he put his head up for a look, a man crawled back to
report to Major S---- that he had seen a hand feebly raised as though
trying to attract our attention. Verifying the truth of the statement
at the risk of his big new _shikar_ helmet, S---- promptly called for
volunteers to try to bring the wounded man in. ‘It’s a slim chance,’
he said, ‘but this noonday sun would kill an unwounded man lying on
his face for an hour out there. We’ve got to make the attempt.’
“Passing down the line, S---- picked the four spryest and wiriest
looking of the sprawling row of grimy Tommies, each of whom had raised
an appealing hand as the word for volunteers passed along. ‘Make the
best of the cover of that strip of date-palms, and bring in the
man--he’s the one nearest us--the same way,’ he ordered just about as
he would have sent them out on patrol. ‘We’ll give the Turks what
diversion we can in the meantime.’
“Then we began peppering the ports of the old _khan_ in a blind and
large sort of way that had little effect, as a consequence of the fact
that the machine-gun fire which came in reply made it impossible to
put our heads up to aim. Enough of a diversion was created, however,
to allow the volunteers to make their way, apparently unobserved, to
the farther end of the palm clump. But a hail of bullets met them as
they left cover, and the last of them dropped while he was still a
dozen yards from the object of his rush. The three first to fall lay
still,--shot dead, as we learned later,--but the last one, in spite of
a punctured femur, presently pulled himself together and began to
crawl forward. It was not until this moment, I am certain, that the
Turks fully comprehended what we were driving at; for now, although
they continued to keep us under cover with sweeping jets from their
machine-gun, not another shot was directed at the man on the ground.
Nor was there any attempt to check his painful progress as he dragged
the man he had been sent after back to the palm grove. Nor yet, finest
of all, did the Turks try to wing a single one of another brave four,
who, disdaining the cover of the palm trunks, dashed out to relieve
their comrade of his burden.
“Encouraged by the forbearance of the enemy, we were about to send out
a squad under a white flag to see if any more of the wounded were
alive, when dust clouds on the southern horizon warned the Turkish
leader that our field-guns were coming up; and, with his task of
delaying the pursuit well fulfilled, he made ready to retire by
sweeping our cover with a fresh fusillade. The only gate of the
_khan_, opening to the south, was completely covered from our
position; but the resourceful Turk coolly breached the northern wall
with a flake or two of gun-cotton, and, the first thing we knew, the
whole troop--machine-gun and all--went scurrying off across the
desert. For two or three minutes they were fair marks for us, and, as
they sent several Parthian volleys themselves, there was no military
reason why we should not have tried to bring down a few of them. As a
matter of fact, we did send a few perfunctory volleys; but if its
shooting on that occasion was any criterion of the marksmanship of
S----’s troop, Allah have mercy on it when it comes to real grips
with the Turk! Not one of the fugitives dropped from his saddle, and
I don’t think one of them was hit. If we had done for even a man of
them, imagine what our feelings would have been when, on taking
possession of the _khan_, we found, hung carefully in a thick-walled
crypt well beyond all danger from our rifle fire, three goatskins of
clear, cold water, while scrawled on the wall, in both French and
Turkish, was the direction, ‘For the Wounded.’ As we had been out of
water for hours ourselves, and as a few cups sufficed for the two or
three wounded who had survived the withering sun heat, you may surmise
that our hostility toward the ‘unspeakable Turk’ was not materially
increased by this latter incident.
“The chap who was rescued at so great a cost died a few hours later,
but rather from exposure to the sun than from his wound, which was
slight. The man who brought him in is well on the road to recovery
and, I trust, a V.C.”