NAINI TAL CLUB.

_August 4th, 1915._

To N.B.

I got a telegram on Sunday asking me to take out a draft to the 4th

Hants, in the Persian Gulf, so my address till further notice will be

"I.E.F. 'D,' c/o India Office, S.W." I thought I should hate the idea

of going to the P.G., but now that it's come along I'm getting rather

keen on going. We have been kicking our heels so long while everyone

else has been slaving away at the front, that one longs to be doing

something tangible and active. The P.G. is not exactly the spot one

would select for a pleasure trip: but on the other hand there is

likely to be more to do there that is more in my line than the purely

military side of the business. The main trouble there is sickness and

I'm sure a lot of it is preventible: and though in a battle I should

be sure to take the wrong turn and land my detachment in some

impossible place, I don't feel it so beyond me to remind them to boil

their water and wear their helmets.

I don't know when I'm off, having heard nothing but the bare telegram.

They don't want me back in Agra till Saturday, so I shall almost

finish my full fortnight's leave. It has been heavenly here and the

memory of it will be a joy for months to come. The forests are

lovelier than ever: the ferns which clothe the trees are now full

grown, and pale purple orchids spangle the undergrowth. Wild dahlias

run riot in every open bank, and the gardens are brilliant with lilies

and cannas.

It rained with drenching persistence for three days, but the last two

have been lovely. I got up early this morning, rode up a mountain and

saw the most superb view of the snows. The brown hills between me and

the snows had their valleys full of rolling white clouds, and the

result was a study in deepest blue and purest white, more wonderful I

think than anything I've seen.

The whole station turned out to the Anniversary Service to-day. It is

dreadful to think that we've all been denying our Christianity for a

whole year and are likely to go on doing so for another. How our

Lord's heart must bleed for us! It appals me to think of it.

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Letters from Mesopotamia in 1915 and January, 1916 From Robert Palmer, who was killed in the Battle of Um El Hannah, June 21, 1916, aged 27 years · 第 5 / 103 题