All these improvements, all these reinforcements, all these extra
supplies could have but one meaning and but one end in view, and that
was as soon as the summer heat was over in the words of Nelson's
famous signal to "engage the enemy more closely."
The time spent out of the trenches was no holiday, one talked of going
back to the Rest Camp. But Rest Camp was only a kindly term; it did
not mean, as one might be led to believe, a delightful camp where
comfortable chairs and well-served meals were supplied to tired and
war-worn officers and men. No such thing; in fact so much the opposite
was the case that one often heard it remarked that one got far more
rest in the trenches than in any Rest Camp at the immediate front. The
Colonel of the Regiment was a thruster. He never wasted a moment
himself and would have his regiment the same. On the great Bronze Gong
of one of our Battalions is engraved "I mark the hours, Do you?"
Certainly the Colonel of the 2nd Battalion did. It was too hot for any
drill or outside parades between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., so
everyone gasped for air inside their tents during those awful hours
when the temperature rose to 124° in the shade, and the one thing one
prayed for was the hastening of sunset; but if the officers or men
slept or tried to sleep during those trying hours it was not so with
the Colonel, at almost any time one visited his tent it was to find
him busy; he did not seem to know what it was to suffer from fatigue,
and during all those trying summer months, when with one solitary
exception every officer was off duty ill for some period of time,
however short, the Commanding Officer was only confined to his tent
for half a day. Duties commenced soon after sunrise and very often
before, every opportunity being taken to make as much use of the
coolest and light hours of the 24. A very strict course of intensive
training was gone through and the results were to make themselves
manifest early the next year. Bombing was practiced morning and night.
Bayonet fighting was excelled in, and attacks by bombers and
bayonetmen were practiced with frequency in trenches especially
prepared for the purpose. Officers were trained to march by compass
and stars and some were even given a course of riding lessons, nothing
being left to chance. The long hot trying summer was not wasted; it
was a preparation for what was to come. Long marches were out of the
question, but short night marches were often practiced, sometimes by
the Battalion alone, sometimes by the whole Brigade with an attack at
dawn. These manoeuvres were very popular with everyone; it was
possible to enjoy moving about in the cool of the night and the
quietness and silence with which it was possible for a whole Regiment
to advance on to a supposed enemy position often impressed one. Having
marched to a certain point from which an attack was to be delivered,
the pre-arranged signal having been given, the bagpipes would burst
forth into music and with a wild cheer the whole Regiment would charge
forward in wave after wave and the supposed enemy driven from their
stronghold. A few moments' rest would be given and the C. O. would
call his officers around him and explain, praise or condemn various
things which had struck him and, as the sun rose over the Pusht-i-Kuh
hills, we would march back to camp. A keen rivalry and competition was
established among the various platoons as to which would mount the
best guard, and a very searching examination was conducted each
evening by the Adjutant and Sergeant-Major. This led to great interest
being taken by the whole Battalion in the mounting of the guard, and
the smartness of the guard increased by leaps and bounds. The heat, of
course, found its victims and in spite of all precautions there was a
fair amount of sickness during the summer; it was impossible to avoid
it. Great care was taken to see that all drinking water was properly
chlorinated, and special waterproof tanks were erected on the river
banks. If anyone went sick they were almost immediately sent to the
Field Hospital where they got every possible attention. All through
the summer the Battalion was very much below strength and the work
fell heavily on those remaining.
[Illustration: Views In Zobeir. The site of Ancient Basrah, the home
of Sinbad the Sailor.]
[Illustration: The President, Regimental Institutes.]
[Illustration: Captain T. W. STEWART.]
It was decided to hold "Highland Sports" on Wednesday, August 30th,
and a number of other units, both British and Indian, were asked to
take part. A suitable piece of ground was chosen some five miles
behind the firing line, and on the day a great concourse of people
assembled. The Corps Commander honoured the Regiment and several
Generals from other Brigades were also present, our own Brigadier
being an interested spectator. The events were keenly contested and
the honours were fairly evenly divided. We won the Highland Dancing
with a very fine exhibition. Another Highland unit carried off the
board jump with a record leap. The officers "Donkey Fight", a scrap
"Five aside" between our officers and those of another Highland unit
caused huge delight and amusement and before many moments blood was
flowing freely. The mile race by the Indian Regiments drew a big crowd
and a large number of entries and a great race was won by the
Punjabis. The inter-company cross country run was a keen contest. 13
men were chosen from each company, with one officer in charge and an
N. C. O. They had to run in full kit and packs also carrying rifles
and a severe course of training was gone through. P. P. B. Miller
Stirling commanded one company, the brothers Smythe (South Africans
and both keen sportsmen) each commanded other companies. I forget who
commanded the fourth company. The average time was under ten minutes
over a two-mile course, and the remarkable thing showing the
uniformity of training was that there was scarcely two minutes'
difference in time between any company. But the event of the day was
the 'tug-of-war' between the two Highland Regiments. It was the best
tug-of-war that many of us had ever witnessed. The sides had been
carefully picked and well trained. Officers and men cheered on their
respective regiments, the crowd of onlookers swelled till the whole
Brigade was looking on in feverish suspense, and so even were the
sides that for nearly five minutes not an inch of ground was lost or
gained. The cheering ceased and the silence became intense; one could
see the veins standing out on the competitors' foreheads and
perspiration pouring off their faces, each man pulling to the last
ounce, then our coach shouted "come away" and as if by magic they gave
a convulsive pull and gained a foot, the spell was broken, and the
men of our Regiment looking on gave a wild cheer. In a second everyone
was shouting for their side, but slowly, very slowly, inch by inch
they were winning, they would lose a foot and then gain two, till
after one of the sternest pulls in the history of the Regiment, our
opponents crossed the line and we were victors. Both sides sank
exhausted to the ground as their Regiments cheered them to the echo.
Perhaps some daring Turkish flying man heard that brave cheer from his
observation car far above and thought the mad English were practising
some new game to worry his existence. That evening at a concert given
by the Regiment the General made a speech and congratulated the two
teams on the best tug-of war he had ever seen, congratulating them on
their splendid staying powers and for the tenacity and determination
they had displayed, which he remarked augured ill for the Turk in the
coming months. History records how true was his prophesy. Our
Brigadier was General Charles Norie whose gallantry in the field was
well-known, as in some strange way gallantry ever is known, to every
man who served under him. And well loved was Charles Norie. He had
lost an arm fighting on the Indian frontier. There have been many
depressing optimists since August 1914 who every Autumn swear the war
will end next spring, and every spring know it cannot last beyond next
autumn. An answer given by one of our Sergeants was consonant to the
serene spirit and resolution that filled the regiment and bid defiance
to the future. Glancing at the General waving his one arm in the air,
he answered some faint-hearted hopeful, "I'm thinking the war will not
be over till Norie claps his hands." It is in that spirit that the
armies of England win their way through at whatever cost.
[Illustration: The P. M. C.]
[Illustration: Tigris Salmon.]
[Illustration: The Palm Creeks.]
That evening the Colonel gave a dinner party and the powers of the
Mess President were taxed to the utmost limit. Nearly 40 sat down, the
Mess staff rose to the occasion, and the cook turned out things we had
never seen before. The next day the Commanding Officer remarked at
dinner "Really, P.M.C., I don't at all know why when we have 2 or 3
Generals to dinner you can give us nice white table cloths but at
other times it is only bare boards", "Well Sir," he hesitatingly
replied, "they were two of Stewart's sheets." Sundays were usually
fairly slack days. I sometimes thought that they could have been even
slacker, it being so absolutely necessary to have one day's rest a
week. Church Parade would be held in the early morning, and another
service at 6 in the evening after the sun had set. These evening
services were very impressive; we would form round in a half circle
sitting on the grass, or what formed a substitute for grass, with the
Padre in the middle. The Commanding Officer would sit at one end of
the half circle either amongst his officers or at the other end
amongst the men, and the Padre knowing well the limits of human
endurance and the severe test that the great heat was putting us to,
never preached too long a sermon. We all loved him, and as he had been
with the Regiment for a dozen years he knew everyone and about
everyone, and when he went sick after the great advance on Baghdad,
all felt that they had temporarily lost a friend. We were miles away
from any village and still further from any town, so there was no one
to visit on Sundays and no social life; unlike our comrades in
France we were unable to enjoy the hospitality of a friendly
population or look forward to going home on leave. We were out here
and we knew it meant for months or may be years. Leave in a restricted
form was granted to India during the 1916 summer, but that is going
from one hot country to another and, though appreciated, could not be
compared to going home. We knew two or three days in advance, the day
that we would go up to the trenches for our spell, and we usually went
in at the commencement of the month, so had the advantage, or
disadvantage as it sometimes proved, of having a full moon. The
distance to march was about three miles before we reached the end of
the communication trench and we never started till late in the
afternoon. All that day we were busy preparing our trench kits and
packing up the necessary kit which had to be as little as possible. We
always marched up in kilts and marched out in kilts, but during our
stay there our clothes were the irreducible minimum, shorts and
shirts. I well remember my first spell in the trenches of the famous
Sanniyat position. We usually held the centre of the line with an
Indian Regiment on either side and one in reserve. We left camp soon
after seven, the night was one of those wonderful clear still
moonlight nights for which this country is justly famous. It was
difficult to imagine before one came within sound of rifle fire that a
grim struggle was being enacted a mile or so in front, everything was
still quiet and peaceful, there were no villages to pass through on
our way up, it was simply open flat country with a river on one side
and a marsh on the other, a long dusty road leading from the Rest
Camps to the rear of the trenches. A light was burning in Brigade
Headquarters and a sentry on duty and we silently filed up the long
communication trench which was deep in dust as rain had not fallen for
months. We passed fatigue parties coming down for rations and the dust
was most distressing. The relief of trenches is usually a long and
tedious process--handing over stores, getting receipts, pointing out
anything of exceptional interest and generally getting settled down
for ten or fourteen days. The Regimental Headquarters were about 200
yards behind the front line and connected up by telephone and various
companies and platoons took it in turn to do their round of duty in
the front line. I think in the trenches you come to know men as you
can get to know them in no other place, the reserve of civilization is
often thrown off and you know a man for what he is, not for what he
would have you think he is. I remember sitting one night on the fire
step of the front line trench and having a long and interesting talk
with a Sergeant about Nigeria. He was telling me all about his life
out there before the war, and the part he took in the Cameroon
Campaign. Back in a Rest Camp he would never have got so
communicative, but when one knows that one's lives are dependant on
each other a close comradeship often results between both officers and
men. This gallant fellow some months later was killed as his company
was advancing to attack a Turkish position after the capture of
Baghdad. I always feel glad I had that talk with him.
[Illustration: Ashar Creek.]
[Illustration: Ashar Creek.]
[Illustration: Native Bazaar, Ashar.]
[Illustration: Scenes In Basrah.]
The nights in the trenches were the busiest time not only on account
of darkness but also on account of coolness. At 9 o'clock in the
morning an inspection of rifles and kit would be held by the Company
Officers, after which the whole Company would retire to dug-outs in
the reserve front line trenches, 10 yards behind the fire trench and
then endeavour to get through the day as well as possible. The
dug-outs had not the comforts of present day dug-outs on the Western
Front. The only roof we had was sail cloth, so if a shell happened to
strike it the results were fatal. This sail cloth kept the sun off,
but the heat was terrific. Sentries only, and one officer per Company
were kept on duty during the day in the front line, where there was
not a yard of shade, the sun beat down with relentless vigour and
gradually as the day wore on the temperature would rise to 120 degrees
in the shade and 160 degrees in the sun and there was no shade. And
this was not for a day or two days but week after week. After 9
o'clock in the morning a death-like stillness would creep over
everything, both sides suffering too much to be able to add any more
suffering to each other. The stillness would be broken now and again
by the crack of a sniper's rifle and one dare not look over the
parapet. In the early mornings aeroplanes would fly over the lines but
without any great show of activity on either side; the heat kept
everything quiet. The very flies are scarce in the hottest months,
only the sandflies torment one at night, and so the day gradually
passes, and as one goes the round to see everything is in order and
one sees the men stretched out in their dug-outs, reading, trying to
sleep, very few talking and all suffering, one remembers with what
irritation one had read in a famous London daily paper, a query--why
the Mesopotamian Campaign had come to an end during the summer, why no
advance was heard of. One longed to put the writer of that article
over the parapet in the sun where within five minutes or less, he
would have his question answered. At times, on a hot parching day
lying in one's dug-out, one would hear a great flutter of wings as a
flight of cranes or wild geese flew over our lines, immediately
followed by a loud fusillade of rifle fire as the sentries endeavoured
to bring one down; several times a goose was brought down, and I well
remember the annoyance of an officer when a goose he had winged
managed to flutter across into the Turkish lines. The heat was at the
maximum between 2 and 3 when we could almost boil oil in the sun. At 4
o'clock things livened up somewhat and at 5-30 everyone stood ready in
the front line awaiting any possible attack but neither side showed
any intention of attacking. Night duties were arranged, parapets had
to be mended, new trenches dug, barbed wire put out and all the
necessary work in connection with trench warfare continued. Officers
patrols were regularly sent out into "No Man's Land" to examine the
enemy's wire and find out if he were sapping forward. As the summer
advanced the marsh receded on the left of the enemy's line, and this
gave our scouts an opportunity to patrol and harass the Turks by
penetrating in rear of their left flank. Much gallant work was done in
this direction and much credit gained by the Regiment, for the Colonel
considered that a good test of the fighting energy of a Company was
the vigour of its patrol duties, and a good number of the Turkish
sentries, I feel sure, agreed with him. The usual night "Hate" started
about six when both sides opened fire, rifle and machine gun, on the
opposite trenches, this was kept up all night, some nights would be
more lively than others, some nights would be comparatively quiet,
but now and again an artillery bombardment would take place, when we
always seemed to give more than we got. Both we and the Turk were very
free with rifle grenades, but what troubled us most was a special
pattern of trench mortar that threw a heavy bomb over quarter of a
mile. One night I remember one landed in and blew up the whole of the
regimental cookhouse; luckily the cooks were sleeping elsewhere and it
was only the dixies that suffered.
[Illustration: The Tree Of Knowledge, Kurnah. Supposed Site Of The
Garden Of Eden.]
[Illustration: Ashar Creek.]
I have always considered myself a very light sleeper, but one evening
I had cause to come to another conclusion. I had just come off duty
from the front line and was speaking to a brother officer outside my
dug-out about 9 o'clock when suddenly we opened artillery fire on the
Turkish position with considerable vigour, and they replied but in a
milder form. I retired and lay down in my dug-out listening to the
shells whistling above and praying to Providence that none would land
on my sail cloth roof. In about half an hour the bombardment ceased
and one wondered what damage had been done and how many lives lost. I
then slept. At breakfast the next morning remarking on the bombardment
I was asked "which"? "Which?" I replied, "why last night's of course,"
"Yes, but the first or second?" "Well, I only heard one," I said. "Oh!
another took place at midnight," I was informed. I had slept through
it and had not heard a sound. So trench life must tire one out
somewhat to enable one to sleep so soundly as to be unaware of a
bombardment. On still nights when possible the very perfection of the
night made men less inclined to fire rifles at each other's trenches.
I used to hear a Turk singing. He had a deep rich voice and I often
stood in the front line or in a communication trench listening to him
as his voice carried across "No Man's Land" from the Turkish line 120
yards away. It used to fascinate me quite a lot and one felt that
under the eastern sky, in the land of Sinbad the Sailor and Omar
Khayyam that war had not quite killed romance. I wonder what happened
to that singer. I wonder if in the great push to Baghdad and beyond he
was killed or if he is now singing to his fellow-prisoners in
captivity in India, or if he is still cheering on his comrades in the
front line further up the Tigris. I don't suppose one will ever know,
but if he should ever read these lines I would like him to know he not
only cheered his own side but gave pleasure to at least one of his
enemies.
[Illustration: The Ship Of The Desert Plays An Important Part In
Mesopotamia.]
[Illustration: Ruins Of "Old Bassorah."]
We used to have three Officers' Messes when in the trenches. The
Headquarters Mess presided over by the Colonel and two Company Messes,
presided over by their respective Company Commanders. The Headquarters
Mess was a very comfortable affair, a big dug-out, and made in such a
way that ground formed the table in the middle and seats all around,
the sides were well banked up with sand bags and outside a small ante
room where one could sit and smoke in the evening, and the roof was
the sky and a very wonderful sky during those long rainless cloudless
months. Round about the Headquarters, the Colonel, the Adjutant, the
Doctor, the Sergeant-Major, had their dug-outs, and the Mess did for
Orderly Room also. The Company Messes were not so elaborate, and were
situated nearer the front line and close to our own dug-outs. We
endeavoured however to make ourselves as comfortable as possible,
but for some reason or other the flies took a great liking to our
Mess (No. 1 Company), and at any time day or night they were assembled
in their hundreds on our canvas roof. We had a large war map fixed up
on to the mud wall to enable us to follow events and we had occasional
visits from the Padre and the Doctor, but it was not a healthy place,
no part of the second line was; the second line was about a 100 yards
behind the first, and for some reason it seemed to give the Turks much
more pleasure to put their shells nearer to the second line than the
first. I have picked small flowers growing on the front line parapet,
but I have never seen any on the second. During my first spell in the
trenches after being in the front line, I was put in charge of the
reserves in the reserve trenches and spent three awful days and four
awful nights in this position. The heat seemed to be worse here than
anywhere. I had to spend my days in a small 40 lbs. tent lying on the
ground gasping for air as the sun poured down with relentless fury. It
was burning hot from the moment it rose till it set 14 hours after
over the Arabian Desert. The men were slightly more fortunate in that
they had a bigger tent, but they suffered also and it was at these
times that one could not but admire the spirit of the 'British
Soldier.' One seldom heard a complaint, of course they were "fed up"
with the heat, everyone was the Archangel Gabriel would have been, but
there was never any thought given to anything else but to "stick it at
whatever cost." The officer in reserve was attached to the
Headquarters Mess and so one was likely to get any news going. Lying
in my tent reading, I now forget the name of the book, but I came
across the passage which I will always remember "The writing which
Nebuchadnezar saw on the wall." As I read that I felt convinced that
Nebuchadnezar never saw any writing on the wall and when I reached the
Mess that evening, the first one to come in was the Doctor and being a
good Presbyterian I felt sure he would have this knowledge at his
fingers' ends, so I asked him who saw the writing on the wall and he
immediately replied "Nebuchadnezar". "Not at all," I said, and I told
him I had just read the same thing in a book but felt convinced it was
wrong, he felt certain the book was right. "Very well," I said, "I'll
bet you, you are wrong," he accepted the bet. The Adjutant came in
soon after and supported the Doctor. I now saw a veritable gold mine
before me and he too was willing to back his knowledge against mine.
We decided to refer the matter to the Colonel, so when he came in we
asked his opinion. The Colonel was not only a gallant soldier but he
was a cautious Scotchman. "Well," he said, "I think it was
Nebuchadnezar, but I would not be willing to back too much on it." It
is only necessary to turn to the 5th Chapter of Daniel to see who won
the bets. That night sanction came for several N.C.O.'s and men to go
on leave to India for a month. Sanction had been hanging fire for some
time and the lucky ones were beginning to despair. My sergeant was
among the lucky ones and I knew how pleased he would be when I got
back and told him to report to Headquarters at 5 the next morning for
leave to India. It was late when I got back, but little did he mind
being disturbed to receive such news. I vouch for it that he slept
well that night and did not oversleep himself in the morning. To those
in France who get leave every three or four months it is impossible
to understand what leave even to India once in one or two years
means, but when the news comes that we can get leave for England, it
will indeed be a red letter day for us all. I was so exhausted the
next day with the heat that I was unable to appear at Mess. The
Colonel sent up to find out what was wrong and wanted me to return to
the rest camp at once, but I was not sufficiently done up for that,
and I only relate this incident to show the thoughtfulness of the
Commanding Officer for those under him.
[Illustration: Quartermaster-sergeant HOBBS.]
[Illustration: The Regimental Sergeant-major In The Trenches.
Sergeant-major A. SMART, M.C.]
[Illustration: Pipe Major KEITH.]
[Illustration: No. 3 British General Hospital.]
The next evening after the Regiment was relieved the reserves being
the last to come out of the trenches, I found a horse waiting for me,
on the Commanding Officer's instructions, so that I would not have the
exertion of the march back to camp; that and similar incidents made
our affection for our Commanding Officer a very real thing. But being
in reserve had one compensation, in the early morning before the sun
rose and just at dawn to lie and watch the wonderful colourings on the
Pusht-i-Kuh Hills, colours changing every moment, was always
pleasurable, and suddenly a shell would burst near the artillery
position and one would know the daily Hate and Strafe had started, and
shortly after the sun would rise. We spent some uncomfortable evenings
being shelled in these trenches, and watching and waiting for them to
burst was not an enjoyable occupation. There were no safe dug-outs to
seek safety in, one had to stick it out wherever one was situated and
hope for the best. The damage done was seldom great beyond knocking
the trenches about a bit and these were soon repaired. Having been put
in charge of a digging party one morning in the rearward area whose
duty it was to widen and deepen a communication trench, I saw a good
opportunity while the work was going on of looking for souvenirs in
the shape of Turkish shell caps. So getting out of the trench I
commenced a search and continued for some time but without success,
when I was driven to seek shelter in the trench by a shell bursting in
close proximity, they had evidently spotted someone walking about and
opened fire, but it did not last for long. During our period in the
trenches if there was very little doing, as was usually the case
during the hot weeks, we were in turn sent down to the Depot three
miles behind for two days' rest, and it was an absolute and complete
rest. One had nothing whatever to do, get up at any time, go to bed at
any time, complete relaxation, those two days were a great boon to us.
To have absolutely nothing to do was a great luxury and anything out
of the ordinary routine was enjoyable. During my spell of leave at the
Depot one evening sitting round the Mess table which we had outside on
account of the great heat, we were discussing the movements of the
Regiment during the past 20 years and when I remarked that I had
watched the Regiment embarking at Durban for India 15 years before,
the Quartermaster said, "I was there and out of the whole Battalion
that embarked that day, there are only two of us left with the
Regiment, the Sergeant-Major and myself". I little thought as I
watched the 2nd Battalion saying farewell to South Africa that 15
years later I would share in some of its trials on the banks of the
Tigris. Sitting in the Headquarters Mess in the evening, as I
previously stated, one got all the news, about 8 o'clock the
Quartermaster would appear having come up from the Depot in charge of
the rations party and to make his report. The mails would be
brought up by them too and if the English mail was due and had arrived
with letters and papers great was the excitement. Our letters took
about six weeks from England to the firing line, but we were allowed
to send week-end cables at a very reduced rate, something like 6_d._ a
word, and could send them off actually from the trenches on their long
journey half across the world. The food, taking everything into
consideration, was good, although of necessity it had to greatly
consist of tinned and dried varieties and we suffered somewhat from
lack of fresh vegetables. Later an improvement in this respect was
effected.
[Illustration: Scenes In The Trenches At San-i-yat.]
[Illustration: The Filters.]
[Illustration: Captain MACQUEEN, R.A.M.C., And His Aid Post.]
[Illustration: Indian Water Carriers At San-i-yat.]
A flag of truce was always an interesting event. A white flag would be
prominently displayed by one side above the trench and kept there till
the other side responded and also hoisted a flag, and two or three
officers would go out from either side meeting in the middle of "No
Man's Land" where the business was discussed. Sometimes it would be
simply handing over a letter or letters; other times the business
would take longer. A truce of some hours' duration would sometimes be
arranged. The longest I remember was for 24 hours when we exchanged
sick prisoners; but there was no fraternizing; we might sit on the
parapet of our trench and the Turk would do the same; but there was no
attempt made to be friendly; the Turk knew and so did we that within a
few short months we would be at death grips with each other and that
one side or the other would be driven out of the present strong
positions we had taken up; but whichever side won, the losses of both
would be great and so we sat and looked at each other during those
short respites, and both sides adhered strictly to the truce. When it
expired it was not safe to show even a helmet over the parapet. The
Colonel told me that several times the same Turkish officer brought
the flag of truce. He spoke French easily and said he had been
fighting more or less continuously the last eight years--in the Iraq
against Arabs, in Tripoli against the Italians, in Gallipoli, and now
on the Tigris against the British. He had been wounded four times, and
was again wounded and taken prisoner by us during the advance, 1917.
In 1916 we were fighting a foe, elated by his success at Kut, and it
was only after our victories in the spring of 1917, that he showed any
signs of war weariness.
One hot and sunny morning I was speaking to one of our sentries who
had been watching a Turk appear above their parapet and had already
had one shot at him and was waiting to get another and I had scarcely
moved a 100 yards down the trench when the unfortunate sentry having
looked over too far received a bullet clean through his head. Once or
twice during the hot weather bombing parties went over for short raids
but without very much success and very little advantage.
I witnessed no instance of gas being used but precautions were taken
and gas helmets issued with orders that they must always be carried
whilst in the fire zone. Gongs were placed at intervals all along the
front line and had to be sounded at the first alarm, but fortunately
that alarm never came.
[Illustration: The Regiment In The Trenches At San-i-yat.]
[Illustration: In The San-i-yat Trenches.]
[Illustration: Looking Towards The Turkish Lines At San-i-yat.]
One of my duties was to buy stores for the Officers' Mess and the
men's canteen and before Field Force Canteens were opened immediately
behind the firing line it meant a trip down to Sheikh Saad about once
a month, after the arrival of the canteen boat, of which we were
duly notified. Buying was usually brisk but we generally got our fair
share of anything going and the Regimental Canteen retailed to the men
at just above cost price, everything was disposed of in a very short
space of time as the things for sale were looked upon as luxuries and
in great demand. On the morning of the anniversary of Loos the
Commanding Officer addressed the Regiment and proclaimed the day a
holiday stating that night a ration of whisky would be issued to
commemorate the event. I heard afterwards that it was all the
Sergeant-Major could do to keep the men from cheering, weeks and
months had passed since the men had had anything stronger than tea to
drink and this ration was much appreciated. Another very welcome event
was the arrival of parcels from Lady Carmichael's Gift Fund in
Calcutta. A great deal of gratitude is due to Lady Carmichael and her
staff and the ladies of India for the way the fund was organised. They
sent us shirts and shorts and towels and soap, razors, chocolates,
mufflers, cigarettes, tobacco, tinned fruit and _chutney_. Certainly
the best _chutney_ I ever tasted came in a gift, I remember it was
home made and came from Assam and the maker's name written on the jar.
I told the Mess Sergeant to write a special letter thanking the maker,
thinking that by doing so some more might appear. But I am sorry to
have to say, none did. As the summer began to draw to an end
preparations had to be made for the winter. The terrific heat of the
summer had gone and now the biting cold of winter had to be prepared
for. If the coming winter was going to be anything like the previous
one, then we were going to suffer; but preparations for it were in
full swing. The Doctor gave an order for a supply of rubber water
bottles for his aid post, whereupon a very liberal and kind-hearted
officer cabled home for one for each officer. I don't know if anyone
else used them for heat purposes. I know I used mine. Fifteen years in
tropical climates has made the 'cold' one of my worst enemies, but if
they were not used as hot water bottles they certainly were as air
cushions; this same officer never neglected an opportunity of doing
acts of kindness to his brother officers and men immediately under his
command, and when he was eventually invalided to India he still
remembered his friends and sent them delightful and much appreciated
parcels.
[Illustration: Qualat Saleh.]
[Illustration: Rawal Pindi Hospital, Amara.]
[Illustration: On The Banks Of The Tigris.]
[Illustration: A Marching Post.]
[Illustration: The Bridge At Arab Village.]