THE BATTLE BEYOND BAGHDAD.
By Brigadier-general A. G. WAUCHOPE, C.M.G., D.S.O.
The following Chapter appeared in _Blackwoods Magazine_ for August
1917:--'On the banks of the Tigris I am lying in the shadow of a palm,
looking down the river on the brick walls and mud roofs, on the
mosques and minarets of the city of Baghdad, and as I look I am lost
in wonder. For although I am now lying in a grove of date-palms, it is
fifteen months since I have seen a tree of any kind; it is fifteen
months since I have seen a house or lain under a roof; and this girl
coming towards me with hesitating steps, clothed in rags and patches,
this little date-seller with her pale face and dark eyes, her empty
basket resting on her small, well-shaped head--this is the first woman
I have seen or spoken to for more than a year.'
Perhaps it is the twilight which gives a feeling of mystery and beauty
unknown in the glare and noise of midday, and I hardly know, as the
Tigris seems to lose itself in the evening mists, above which the
golden minarets of Kazimain still shine and glitter in the setting
sun, whether I am truly in the land of reality or if I still linger
but half awake in the realm of dreams and fancies, where stand the
gates of horn and ivory.
[Illustration: The Transport Officer.]
[Illustration: Captain R. MACFARLANE, M.C. Killed In Action.]
[Illustration: Arabs Bargaining On The Tigris Banks With Troops Going
Up River. A brisk trade is done in eggs and fowls.]
For to how many during the past two years has not flashed the dream of
the capture of this city, Dar-al-Salam, the City of Security? And of
those who have seen the vision, how many have wondered from which gate
the dream has issued, and how many have been filled with confidence?
For that vision has drawn many thousands from Basrah and Amarah--many
who are now here in the hour of victory, many who now lie where they
fell on the field of battle, and many who are still prisoners and
captives.
A few days ago, as the columns of the Army of Mesopotamia were
hurrying past the great Arch of Ctesiphon, it was impossible not to
think of the ---- Division arriving there some eighteen months
earlier--that gallant ---- Division, war-worn and depleted in numbers
but ever victorious, who found at Ctesiphon, in the hour of their last
and most glorious victory, the beginning of their undoing and tragic
end.
What dream was it of a captured city, of a City of Security, that
lured them to their doom, and who was the first dreamer? And who next
saw the second dream of fresh battalions and a new organisation that
would lead without fail to Baghdad, and had the gift to know that this
dream, unlike the other, had passed through the gate of horn?
So I mused but a week ago in the palm groves that had been ringing
that very morning with rifle-shots, but seemed so quiet and peaceful
in the evening light that I felt all the rush of the past pursuit was
over, that our efforts had not only been crowned with success, but
that a period of rest would now be given to man and beast. For the
pursuit had been much more than merely a hot and dusty march of 120
miles from San-i-yat to Baghdad.
All through January and February the Army Commander had been preparing
the way by a series of small victories which gradually drove the
Turks, holding the right bank of the Tigris, across the Shatt-al-Hai,
and a dozen miles above Kut. Then came the combined master-stroke on
February 22 and 23. First, on the 22nd, came the successful attack on
the San-i-yat trenches--the position that had held us at bay for a
twelve month--the position that had finally checked our troops,
struggling most bravely, but struggling in vain, for the relief of
their comrades in Kut. This success drew several Turkish battalions to
the help of the San-i-yat garrison, and so weakened the Turkish line
elsewhere. And then at dawn, on the 23rd, came the crossing of the
Tigris five miles above the Shatt-al-Hai--a crossing that will remain
famous in history--when the bravery of the troops will not make one
forget the careful preparation of the Commander and his skill in
making success possible, by causing the Turk to mass his troops both
above and below the actual point selected for crossing.
This well-timed and brilliantly executed stroke had sent the Turk
flying; but though in the two months' fighting he had lost over 8,000
in prisoners and more than that number in killed and wounded, he was
still able to fight a series of stubborn rearguard actions before the
road was free to Baghdad. It was dawn on the 11th of March before the
Highlanders, who were leading, reached the city, and an order to rest
and be thankful had been welcome to troops more used to trench warfare
than constant rapid marching in the open.
[Illustration: Ezra's Tomb.]
[Illustration: An Arab Village.]
[Illustration: Fishing By Net On The Tigris.]
[Illustration: Arabs Selling Produce On The Banks Of The River.]
[Illustration: On The Banks Of The Tigris.]
But when airmen brought intelligence that the enemy was holding an
entrenched position some twenty miles north of the city, it was
obvious that some of us must move up-river and drive him back.
It was once remarked by an American officer, who had served throughout
the Civil War, that he knew that every soldier in the army was always
longing to be in the next battle. He knew this because it was so said
by every general and so written by every newspaper editor. And yet,
although he had served in several regiments during the war, he had
always found that that particular itch was more lively in neighbouring
units than in his own.
So when orders arrived on the 13th of March for our Division to
advance that night, our friends from other divisions congratulated us
with what seemed almost undue heartiness on our good fortune in being
selected, and the estimate of the numbers of the opposing Turks rose
rapidly from five thousand to fifteen thousand. However, the estimated
number finally settled down to about half that, with thirty guns, and
these figures were subsequently substantiated by captured prisoners.
These orders put an end to the peaceful enjoyment of the palm grove,
and preparations were hurried forward. Blankets and waterproof sheets
were all stacked, men and officers all carried their own great coats
and rations for the next day, water-bottles were filled that
afternoon, and enough water was carried on mules to refill them once
the next day, and no more given to man or animal till the morning of
the 15th. This should be borne in mind when judging of the
difficulties overcome by the troops in this action, for the shade
temperature on the 14th was about 80°, and there was no shade.
The Turk certainly had judged it impossible for us to advance so far
from the river, for we learned later that he had laid out the trace of
most of his trenches between the river and the railway; but our main
attack was delivered west of the railway, a success there forcing the
withdrawal of the whole of his line.
Save for several severe dust-storms the whole pursuit had been blessed
with fine weather, and it was on a beautiful starlit night that our
Division formed up along the railway for the march towards Mushaidie,
a station some twenty miles north of Baghdad on the direct road to
Berlin.
Night marches, the text-book says, may be made for several reasons,
but it does not suggest that one of these ever could be for pleasure.
Constant and unexpected checks break the swing that counts so much for
comfort on a long march; hurrying on to make up for lost ground,
stumbling in rough places, belated units pushing past to the front,
whispered but heated arguments with staff officers, all threaten the
calm of a peaceful evening and also that of a well-balanced mind. Many
a soldier sadly misses his pipe, which, of course, may not be lit on a
night march; but to me a greater loss is the silence of those other
pipes, for the sound of the bagpipes will stir up a thousand memories
in a Highland regiment, and nothing helps a column of weary
foot-soldiers so well as pipe-music, backed by the beat of drum. This
march was neither better nor worse than its fellows, and we had
covered some fourteen miles before we halted at dawn. Then we lay
down, gnawed a biscuit, tasted the precious water in our bottles, and
waited for what news airmen would bring of the enemy.
[Illustration: The Course Of The Baghdad Railway.]
[Illustration: Different Types In Mesopotamia.]
The day is not wasted on which one has seen the sun rise--perhaps some
of us changed the old saying, and felt the day would be well spent for
him who saw the sun set,--for in war, however sure the victory, so
also is the toll of killed and wounded, and the attack of an enemy
entrenched in this country, as bare and open as the African veld, is
done readily, gladly, but not without losses; and the time one thinks
of these is not in the charge, not in the advance, but in the empty
period of waiting beforehand. The needle pricks before, not during,
the race. "Remember only the happy hours," and if the most glorious
hour in life is the hour of victory in battle, so are the hours
preceding battle among the most depressing. I confess, as we sat there
idle in the chill dawn, my mind was filled not only with the hope of
victory and captured trenches, but with memories of past scenes in
France and Mesopotamia, and of a strip of ground the evening after
Magersfontein, each battlefield dotted with little groups of men lying
rigid, each marked with lines of motionless forms.
Action quickly dispels such thoughts, and we all welcomed the definite
news that was at last brought of the enemy, and our orders for a
farther advance. One brigade was immediately sent forward on the east
side of the railway in order to press back the advanced parties of the
enemy on their main position, some six miles north of our present
halting place. A brave sight it is to see a brigade deploying for
action. Even though the scarlet doublet has given place to the khaki
jacket, though no pipes sound and no colours are unfurled, the spirit
still remains; the spirit that in old days led the British line to
victory still fills these little columns scattered at wide intervals
over the plain, these little columns of Englishmen, Highlanders,
Indians, and Gurkhas. The brigade pushed forward for a mile or two
without opposition, then little puffs of white smoke bursting in the
air showed that the Turk had opened the battle with salvoes of
shrapnel; the little columns quickly spread out into thin lines, and
our batteries trotted forward and were soon themselves engaged in
action. So far the scene had been clear in every detail, but now as
the day advanced, the dust from advancing batteries, the smoke and
mirage, formed a fog of war that telephones and signallers could only
in part dispel.
The mirage in Mesopotamia does not so much hide as distort the truth.
The enemy are seldom altogether hidden from view, the trouble is
rather to tell whether one is observing a cavalry patrol or an
infantry regiment, or if the object moving forward is not in reality a
sandhill or a bunch of reeds. The mirage here has certainly a strange
power of apparently raising objects above the ground-level. I remember
well from a camp near Falahiyah the Sinn Banks, which are perhaps
thirty feet above the plain, were quite invisible in the clear morning
air, but about noon they were easy to distinguish as a cloudy wall
swaying to and fro in the distant haze. Nor shall I forget the
instance of an officer who once assured me he had observed five Arab
horsemen within a mile of our column: we rode forward, and soon the
five shadowy horsemen gave place to five black crows hopping about by
the edge of the Suwaicha marsh. But the most curious illusion I have
seen in this way was looking towards the Pusht-i-Kuh hills across the
marsh from San-i-yat. The foothills, some thirty miles distant, had
sometimes the appearance of ending in abrupt white cliffs such as
one sees at Dover. The cause of this was a great number of dead fish
which had been stranded as the marsh receded, and their white bellies,
a mile away, gave the appearance of white cliffs to the base of the
Persian hills, which in reality slope very gradually down to the level
of the Tigris valley.
[Illustration: Arab Girl Labourers.]
[Illustration: The Barber.]
[Illustration: Washing Clothes.]
So in Mesopotamian battles, little can be trusted that is seen, and to
gain information of the enemy commanders are bound to rely on reports
by aeroplane, messengers, and telephones.
The battle now before us was to be fought over ground typical of the
Tigris valley and the desert into which it merges. There are no hills,
trees, or any distinguishing features, but the strip nearest the
river, varying from one to several miles in breadth, is cultivated and
intersected with irrigation channels, some six feet, some six inches,
in width and depth. These are invaluable as cover to troops on the
defensive, and almost impassable to transport carts. It was here the
enemy had expected us, and was holding numerous trenches between the
river and the railway; but our commanders wisely waited till their
information was complete, and then decided to make our main attack on
the enemy's extreme right, some six miles from the river. The ground
in this part is a wide open desert, bare and level except for a few
low sandhills; but in the dips and hollows below the sandhills the
khaki-coloured desert changes into a thick growth of fresh green
grass, dotted with countless daisies and dandelions, and a little
white flower resembling alyssum giving a sweet smell to all the
countryside. Some five miles beyond our halting-place a definite ridge
runs east and west across the railway, and ends in a low sugar-loaf
hill about forty feet high. This ridge was reported to be entrenched
and held by the Turk, and this ridge we were ordered to attack and
capture.
Our first brigade had moved forward on the east side of the railway,
but had been eventually held up mainly by enfilade artillery fire
coming from positions stretching nearer to the river than to the
railway. The whole brigade was now lying stretched out in extended
order some three thousand yards ahead of us, with the left regiment
touching the railway embankment. Our brigade had followed for some
miles in their tracks, but was now ordered to cross to the western
side of the railway by a small culvert and form up for the main attack
some three or four miles south of the enemy's position. This was done
without difficulty, the third brigade of our Division being held in
support on our left rear.
After the orders and dispositions had been explained to every man,
magazines were charged, and the Highland regiment deployed into attack
formation in four lines of half-platoons in file. A battalion of
Gurkhas was deployed on our left, and the third battalion of the
brigade was formed up in rear of the Gurkhas. The main attack was thus
to be delivered on a narrow front of five hundred yards, the
machine-gun company being held in readiness to support the assaulting
battalions as occasion offered. The first-line transport with the
reserve ammunition halted near the culvert through which we had
crossed the railway, but both our reserve ammunition and our Aide Post
were brought forward as the attack developed.
[Illustration: Indian Cavalry Watering At Arab Village.]
[Illustration: Landing Stores At Arab Village.]
[Illustration: The Great Bund Built To Keep Back The Marsh At
Falahiyah.]
[Illustration: The Liquorice Factory, Kut.]
[Illustration: The River At Kut.]
[Illustration: Drawing Water At Kut.]
[Illustration: View From The Kut Minaret Towards The Hai.]
[Illustration: Kut.]
[Illustration: Progress Is Being Made At Kut, It Now Has Its
Municipality.]
[Illustration: Townshend's Trenches, Kut.]
[Illustration: Looking Towards Kut.]
[Illustration: The Kut Minaret.]
At 3-30 p.m. we advanced, and soon had passed the two field batteries
covering our front, and reached, without opposition, the lines of the
first brigade extended on the east side of the railway. About four
o'clock our patrols reported that the enemy was holding not only the
main ridge that joins Sugar Loaf Hill with the railway embankment, but
also a broken line of low sandhills a few hundred yards in front of
the main position. At the same time some shrapnel burst over our
leading platoons, and a party of Turks, directly on our left, opened
long-range rifle fire. The battalion halted under cover of some
sandhills, the final orders were issued, and half a company and two
machine-guns were sent to clear the enemy firing from our left flank.
Happily the latter retired at once when fired on, and the battalion
advanced in perfect order, the small columns extending into line as
the enemy's rifle fire grew more and more severe. The Turkish
batteries now kept up a regular fire of both shrapnel and
high-explosive shell, but these detonated badly, and our losses on
this account were small. A _rafale_ of shrapnel will of course destroy
any infantry moving in the open, but intermittent shelling, although
it appears to be terribly destructive, will not stop resolute troops
determined to press forward. But the farther we advanced the more
evident it became that Sugar Loaf Hill was the key of the position. It
stood seven or eight hundred yards west of the railway, and the
enemy's riflemen from the entrenchments on top brought a deadly
enfilade fire to bear on our advancing lines. The Gurkhas moving in
echelon on our left escaped this, but to meet it and to dominate the
enemy's fire, the Highlanders were compelled to extend to the left,
their supporting platoons being used to fill up the gap. Two
machine-gun sections also pressed gallantly forward, and in spite of
continual and heavy losses from now onwards, did much to help us to
gain superiority of fire over the enemy.
The battle was now divided into two parts. On our left the Turks had
been forced to retire from their advanced positions, but on the right
they still held some trenches among the broken ground near the
railway, two hundred yards in advance of the main position on the
ridge; but on the right our losses had not been so severe, nor was our
line so extended.
On the left the Turk occupied no advanced positions, but he outflanked
our line, and the enfilade fire from his commanding positions was
causing such losses that it seemed impossible for our men to continue
the advance without strong artillery support. Unfortunately this was
not forthcoming at the time, because our covering batteries had found
they were at extreme range, and were now in the act of moving to a
more forward position. If an attacking line wavers and halts within
close range of an enemy entrenched, that attack is _done_ until
supports come up and give it again an impetus forward. But there were
now few supports available, and the moment most critical.
Yet all along our front small sections of Highlanders still continued
to rise up, make a rush forward, and fling themselves down, weaker
perhaps by two or three of their number, but another thirty yards
nearer the enemy. Now the last supports pressed into the firing line,
and as one leader fell, another took his place. One platoon changed
commanders six times in as many minutes, but a lance-corporal led the
remaining men with the same dash and judgment as his seniors.
[Illustration: The Assistant Adjutant.]
[Illustration: Captain W. A. YOUNG, Commanding No. 2 Company.]
[Illustration: The Money Changer]
It was at this time our Lewis gun teams lost so heavily. The weight of
the gun and the extra ammunition carried renders their movements
slower than that of their comrades, and consequently the teams offer a
better target as well as one specially sought for by the enemy. The
officer in charge, Lieut. Gillespie, had brought up two of our guns in
the endeavour to subdue the fire from Sugar Loaf Hill, but at the very
moment of giving the range his left arm was shattered. He had been
light-weight champion of India, and as he now continued fighting, I
could not but compare him to his famous predecessor in the Ring, who
carried on the fight with one arm broken. I know those brave, brown
eyes of his never flinched in pain, nor wavered in doubt, as he made
his way back, not to the Aide Post, but in order to bring forward two
more guns for the same purpose. But, alas! while directing their fire
he was seen by some Turkish riflemen and fell, never again to rise,
his breast pierced by two bullets.
A number of staff and artillery officers witnessed this attack by a
Highland regiment. Some were chiefly impressed by so much individual
gallantry, others at the example of what can be achieved by collective
determination. Was it the result of hard and constant training,
perfect discipline, or _esprit de corps_ that at this moment of trial
made these thin extended lines work as if by clockwork to their own
saving and the victory of our arms?
It was during this advance of five hundred yards that the regiment met
with its heaviest losses. With four officers and half his men killed
or wounded, and an enemy machine-gun pouring a continuous stream of
bullets on to the remainder, the situation is not a happy one for a
company sergeant-major, and this was the situation which the young
Sergeant-Major Ben Houston of our left company had now to face. He
turned round, as so often in battle one does turn round, hoping to see
supports pushing forward, and a bullet seared an ugly line across both
shoulders. Without waiting, he led his men on, and another bullet
struck his bayonet; fragments cut his face and made his eye swell, so
that he could not see out of it. Yet when I met him at midnight after
the last charge, he told me much of the battle and nothing of his
wounds. High praise is due to those who, although weakened by wounds,
continue fighting and undertaking fresh responsibilities.
The company next on the left fared little better, but these two
companies forced the enemy back, and occupied the low sandhills some
two hundred yards in advance of his main position, and there waited,
by order, before making the final assault. The left company lost two
signallers killed, and the next company had four signallers all
wounded in the act of calling for more ammunition. Ammunition was
brought up, but, though many brave men fell and many brave deeds were
done, nothing was carried out with greater bravery, nothing
contributed more to our success, than the maintenance of communication
throughout the battle.
[Illustration: No. 1 Company Prepares For Inter-company Cross-country
Run.]
[Illustration: Highland Games On The Tigris Front.]
[Illustration: The Last Meal In Camp.]
[Illustration: The Men's Field Kitchen.]
[Illustration: Staff Of Officers' Mess At San-i-yat.]
[Illustration: Loading Up The Kits.]
The left half battalion, reduced to less than half of its original
numbers, was in need of help. This help it now gained from the action
of the companies on the right. Undismayed by the enemy shell and rifle
fire, these two companies, gallantly assisted by the Indian battalion
on the east side of the railway, pressed forward, and at five o'clock
charged the enemy, and drove him out of his advanced trenches at the
point of the bayonet. The very quickness of the manoeuvre had
ensured its success, though it was only achieved with considerable
loss to ourselves as well as to the Turk. But the gain was great.
Small parties of Highlanders now crept forward among the sand-dunes,
two Lewis guns were taken to the east side of the railway embankment,
and a hot enfilade fire was brought to bear on the enemy main
position. So effective was this that the Turks were forced to evacuate
the ridge for some 400 yards nearest the railway, and even from Sugar
Loaf Hill his fire weakened, and the relief to our left half battalion
and to the Gurkhas was correspondingly great. Streams of wounded Turks
were also seen passing from the ridge to the rear: it was not only the
British who suffered losses on the 14th of March.
The situation was now greatly in our favour, and it only wanted a
final charge to complete the success. But this assault could not be
made without either artillery support or the arrival of fresh troops
to fill up our depleted and extended ranks. Our Colonel, therefore,
ordered all companies to wait in the positions they had gained, but to
be ready to charge immediately after the batteries had bombarded the
enemy trenches. Consequently, during the next hour both sides remained
on the defensive.
Little ironies pursue us through life; in battle Death sometimes comes
with a touch so swift and so ironical that we are made to fear God
truly.
Englishmen have learned now the meaning of the saying, dear to the
French soldier, "de ne pas s'en faire," and in the lull of battle
before the bombardment, Sergeant Strachan and Cleek Smith talked of
old times. There had been nine Strachans in the regiment when we
landed in France two and a half years ago, one of whom was then my
orderly. "Any news this morning?" I would sometimes ask.--"Nothing
much, sir, only another of the Strachans was killed last night." My
orderly had become a sergeant, but the other eight were no longer with
the battalion. They had all left, "on command." "Yes," said Cleek
Smith, "I wonder why it is so many poor chaps get it the minute they
join the regiment, while fellows like you and me go through one show
after another and never get a scratch." Scarce a bullet was fired
during that half-hour, yet as a full stop to his question came one
that found a way to that gallant heart, which had never failed him in
the most critical fight, nor on the most dangerous duty when out
scouting. Cleek Smith, you know the answer now to an even greater
Riddle than the one you put to the last of the Strachans. No man
liveth unto himself, and whoever dies in battle, dies for his
regiment, his country, and the cause.
The telephone plays an important part in open warfare, as it does in
the trenches, and though the Brigade Signalling Officer and many of
his men were killed, intermittent communication was kept up throughout
the battle between the battalion, the covering batteries, and the
Brigade Commander. The value of this was now extreme. By telephone our
Colonel communicated his intentions to the firing line, and thus
prevented those sporadic attacks by independent platoons, at once so
gallant, so ineffective, and so deadly in losses. By telephone he
explained the situation to the Brigadier, who ordered up half a
battalion of another Highland regiment, old friends of ours, but never
more wanted than now, and by telephone he arranged that the
batteries should bombard as heavily as possible the trenches on the
right of Sugar Loaf Hill, the bombardment to begin at 6.25 and to last
for six minutes.
[Illustration: Sergeant-major I. E. NIVEN.]
[Illustration: Interior Of A Hospital Ward In Mesopotamia.]
During this hour rifle fire grew less and less, artillery firing
ceased. High above the battlefield some crested larks were singing,
even as they sing on a quiet evening over the trenches in France, as
they sing over the fields at home. A few green and bronze bee-eaters
hovered almost like hawks over the sand-dunes, and a cloud of
sandgrouse were swinging and swerving across the open ground that
divided Highlander from Turk. The wind had died quite away, and a
scent of alyssum filled the air. There was no movement among the
troops, there was none even among the slender wild grasses of the
plain. The sun, that had been blazing all through the day, now hung
low in the western sky. The sound of battle was dying, even as the day
was dying. "The world was like a nun, breathless in adoration." And we
soldiers, absorbed in this remote corner of the world war, intent on
the hour immediately before us, lay there breathless in expectancy.
Suddenly our 18-pounders opened gun fire. With rare precision shrapnel
burst all along the enemy trenches, and at 6-30, as the shelling
slackened in intensity, the Highlanders rose as one man, their
bayonets gleaming in the setting sun, and, with the Gurkhas on their
left, rushed across the open. There was little work for the bayonet.
The Turk fled as our men closed, and the position so long and hardly
fought for was won.
The Highlanders had gained their objective, but had lost heavily in
officers and men. The remainder were exhausted by the labours of the
past twenty-four hours and by lack of water; but when orders came to
push forward and capture Mushaidie railway station there was no
feeling of doubt or hesitation. Some time was spent in re-organisation,
in bringing up and distributing reserve ammunition; the two left
companies were amalgamated, and an officer detailed to act with the
right wing of the Gurkhas, since that battalion, though it had not
suffered such heavy losses in men, had only two officers left
unwounded. The two companies of the supporting Highland battalion now
arrived and were detailed as a reserve to our attacking line. The
third regiment of our brigade had been operating far out on the left
flank, and were now occupying Sugar Loaf Hill, from which they had
driven the last remaining Turks, and the Indian regiment on the right
of the railway, which had fought so well with us throughout the
battle, received orders to halt for the night.
And thus we advanced alone; but though hungry, thirsty, weary, worn,
there was full confidence among all ranks, and one resolve united
all--the determination to press forward and complete the rout of the
enemy.
A mile ahead we passed a position, strongly entrenched but luckily
deserted by the Turks, and it was not for another two miles, when our
patrols came close to the station, that the enemy was reported in any
numbers. There the patrols described a scene of considerable
confusion. A train was shunting, and many Turks rushing about and
shouting orders. Our patrols were working half a mile ahead of the
regiment, so in spite of every effort it was half an hour later before
we filed silently past the station, formed up once again for the
attack, and charged with the bayonet. The enemy fired a few shots, one
of our men and a few Turks were killed and a few more made prisoners;
but the rest fled and disappeared into the night, leaving piles of
saddlery, ammunition, and food behind them. But the last train had
left Mushaidie, and with it vanished our hopes of captured guns and
prisoners. However, we had achieved the task allotted to us, and the
moment the necessary pickets had been posted the rest of us forgot
exhaustion, forgot victory, in the most profound sleep.
[Illustration: No. 1 Company Early Morning Parade Outside Samarra.]
[Illustration: Trenches At Samarra.]
[Illustration: Bathing In The Tigris.]
[Illustration: The Pioneers Of The Regiment In Summer Kit.]
[Illustration: Samarra.]
We had achieved our task, and, as the corps commander wrote, we had
made the 14th of March a red-letter day for all time in the history of
the Regiment. I have told the story of these thirty hours of
continuous marching and fighting from the point of view of a
regimental officer. This is in battle, some say always, very limited
in outlook. But certain things are shown clear. Waste of energy brings
waste of life and victory thrown away. A regimental leader has, with
his many other burdens, to endure the intolerable toil of taking
thought, and of transmitting thought without pause into action. And
those who work with him are not mere figures, not only items of a
unit, but are intimate friends whose lives he must devote himself to
preserve, whose lives he must be ready to sacrifice as freely as his
own. It is well that we neither know nor decide the issues of life and
death. There is, I think, a second meaning in the oft-quoted line of
Lucretius, _Nec bene promeritis capitur_, _nec tangitur ira_. Our
prayers are not attended to perhaps because of their very foolishness.
I believe when we congratulate ourselves after a battle that we and
our friends are still in the land of the living, that in some
mysterious way there may be a counterpart on the other side of the
veil--that there may be welcome and rejoicing also on behalf of those
who have passed through the portals of death. Although every mother's
son of us must experience a feeling of dread in stepping alone into
the night that no man knows, must be filled with sorrow and move with
a heavy heart when his comrades and those filled with the glory of
youth and promise depart, still we can, all of us, also feel thankful
for the loan of their help and strength. Two years of war, two years
of living constantly in the presence of death, has brought to me, as
it has brought to many, the assurance that it is well equally with
those who remain here as it surely is with those who pass away. And we
have no other answer to the last question ever asked by Cleek Smith.
"It is only after the sun hath set that the owls of Athenae wing their
flight." The following day the battalion remained at Mushaidie; a dust
storm was blowing and many reports came in of the enemy returning to
make a counter-attack. But his defeat had been too severe and he made
no real resistance again till we encountered him a month or so later
some 30 miles further north near Istabulat. Meanwhile our brigade
received orders to concentrate on the Tigris at the Babi Bend, some
six miles east of Mushaidie. A pleasant week of comparative rest was
spent there and then, there being no signs of the enemy, we were
withdrawn to our old camping ground in the palm groves, that line the
river bank between Kazimain and the City of Baghdad. The
re-organisation of our platoons after the recent losses was completed,
and fresh equipment and clothing issued. Two companies were split up
on outpost duty, but even so time was found for military training and
for some visits to the City, an equal pleasure to officers and men.
The Colonel was sent for to Army Headquarters, and General Maude
was most complimentary to the Regiment for their great fight.
[Illustration: Tent Pitching.]
[Illustration: The Cultivation Of The Date Palm At Basrah.]
In April the division moved forward, and the brigade again marched
past the Babi Bend, northward of Mushaidie to Beled Station, where we
had a few days' halt and some of us shot a number of sandgrouse.
Thence we pressed on till we overtook the Turks entrenched beyond the
Median Wall, holding a strong position about Istabulat. From this it
was necessary to drive them, our objective being the railhead at
Samarrah.