EGYPT
_25th March, 1915. H.M.S. "Franconia." At Sea._ A fine smooth sea and a
flowing tide. Have written to K. and Mr. Asquith. Number two has caused
me _fikr_.[8] The P.M. lives in another plane from us soldiers. So it
came quite easily to his lips to ask _me_ to write to him,--a high
honour, likewise an order. But K. is my soldier chief. As C.-in-C. in
India he refused point blank to write letters to autocratic John Morley
behind the back of the Viceroy, and Morley never forgave him. K. told me
this himself and he told me also that he resented the correspondence
which was, he knew, being carried on, behind his (K.'s) back, between
the army in France and his (K.'s) own political Boss: that sort of
action was, he considered, calculated to undermine authority.
I have had a long talk with Braithwaite _re_ this quandary. He strongly
holds that my first duty is to K. and that it is for us a question of K.
and no one but K. Were the S. of S. only a civilian (instead of being a
Field Marshal) the case _might_ admit of argument; as things are, it
does not. So have written the P.M. on these lines and shall send K. the
carbons of all my letters to him. To K. himself I have written backing
up my cable and begging for a Brigade of Gurkhas. Really, it is like
going up to a tiger and asking for a small slice of venison: I remember
only too well his warning not to make his position impossible by
pressing for troops, etc., but Egypt is not England; the Westerners
don't want the Gurkhas who are too short to fit into their trenches and,
last but not least, our landing is not going to be the simple,
row-as-you-please he once pictured. The situation in fact, is not in the
least what he supposed it to be when I started; therefore, I am
justified, I think, in making this appeal:--"I am very anxious, if
possible, to get a Brigade of Gurkhas, so as to complete the New Zealand
Divisional organisation with a type of man who will, I am certain, be
most valuable on the Gallipoli Peninsula. The scrubby hillsides on the
South-west face of the plateau are just the sort of terrain where those
little fellows are at their brilliant best. There is already a small
Indian commissariat attached to the Mountain Batteries, so there would
be no trouble on the score of supply."
"As you may imagine, I have no wish to ask for anything the giving of
which would seriously weaken our hold on Egypt, but you will remember
that four Mounted Brigades belonging to Birdwood's force are being left
behind to look after the land of the Pharaohs, and a Mounted Brigade for
a battalion seems a fair exchange. Egypt, in fact, so far as I can make
out, seems stiff with troops, and each little Gurkha might be worth his
full weight in gold at Gallipoli."
Wrote Fitz in much the same sense:--"We are desperately keen to extract
a Gurkha Brigade out of Egypt and you might lend a hand, not only to us,
but to all your own Sikh and Dogra Regiments, by making K. see that the
Indian Army was never given a dog's chance in the mudholes. They were
benumbed: _it was not their show_. Here, in the warm sun; pitted against
the hereditary _dushman_[9] who comes on shouting 'Allah!' they would
gain much _izzat_.[10] _Now mind_, if you see any chance of an Indian
contingent for Constantinople, do everyone a good turn by rubbing these
ideas into K."
Braithwaite has already picked up a number of useful hints from Roger
Keyes. His old friendship with the Commodore should be a help. Keyes is
a fine fellow; radiating resolve to do and vigour to carry
through--hereditary qualities. His Mother, of whom he is an ugly
likeness, was as high-spirited, fascinating, clever a creature as ever I
saw. Camel riding, hawking, dancing, making good _band-o-bast_ for a
picnic, she was always at the top of the hunt; the idol of the Punjab
Frontier Force. His Father, Sir Charles, grim old Paladin of the
Marshes, whose loss of several fingers from a sword cut earned him my
special boyish veneration, was really the devil of a fellow. My first
flutter out of the sheltered nest of safe England into the outer sphere
of battle, murder and sudden death, took place under the auspices of
that warrior so famouséd in fight when I was aged twenty. Riding
together in the early morning from the mud fort of Dera Ismail Khan
towards the Mountain of Sheikh Budin, we suddenly barged into a mob of
wild Waziri tribesmen who jumped out of the ditch and held us up--hand
on bridle. The old General spoke Pushtu fluently, and there was a
parley, begun by him, ordinarily the most silent of mankind. Where were
they going to? To buy camels at Dera Ghazi Khan. How far had they come?
Three days' march; but they had no money. The General simulated
amazement--"You have come all that distance to buy camels without money?
Those are strange tales you tell me. I fear when you pass through Dera
Ismail you will have to raise the wind by selling your nice pistols and
knives: oh yes, I see them quite well; they are peeping at me from under
your poshteens." The Waziris laughed and took their hands off our reins.
Instantly, the General shouted to me, "Come on--gallop!" And in less
than no time we were going hell for leather along the lonely frontier
road towards our next relay of horses. "That was a narrow squeak," said
the General, "but _you may take liberties with a Waziri if only you can
make him laugh_."
_26th March, 1915. H.M.8. "Franconia." At Sea._ Inspected troops on
board. A keen, likely looking lot. All Naval Division; living monuments,
these fellows, to Winston Churchill's contempt for convention.
Reached Port Said about 3.30 p.m. Nipped into a "Special" which seems to
have become my "ordinary" vehicle and left for Cairo. Opened despatches
from London. "Bullet-proof lighters cannot be provided." "I quite agree
that the 29th Division with its artillery is necessary." Not a word
about the Gurkhas. Arrived at 10 p.m., and was met by Maxwell.
_27th March, 1915 Cairo._ Working hard at Headquarters all day till 6.15
p.m., when I made my salaam to the Sultan at the Abdin Palace. A real
Generals' dinner--what we used to call a _burra khana_--at Maxwell's
hospitable board:--
General Birdwood,
General Godley,
General Bridges,
General Douglas,
General Braithwaite,
Myself.
_28th March, 1915. Cairo._ Inspected East Lancashire Division and a
Yeomanry Brigade (Westminster Dragoons and Herts). How I envied Maxwell
these beautiful troops. They will only be eating their heads off here,
with summer coming up and the desert getting as dry as a bone. The
Lancashire men especially are eye-openers. How on earth have they
managed to pick up the swank and devil-may-care airs of crack regulars?
They _are_ Regulars, only they are bigger, more effective specimens than
Manchester mills or East Lancashire mines can spare us for the Regular
Service in peace time. Anyway, no soldier need wish to see a finer lot.
On them has descended the mantle of my old comrades[11] of
Elandslaagte and Caesar's Camp, and worthily beyond doubt they will wear
it.
[Illustration: Lieut.-Gen. the Rt. Hon. Sir J. G. Maxwell, G.C.B.,
K.C.M.G.]
The enthusiasm of the natives was a pleasing part of the show. During
four years of Egyptian Inspections I recall no single instance of any
manifestation of friendliness to our troops, or even of interest in
them, by Gyppies. But the Territorials seem, somehow, to have conquered
their goodwill. As each stalwart company swung past there was a
spontaneous effervescence of waving hands along the crowded street and
murmurs of applause from Bedouins, Blacks and Fellaheen.
Maxwell will have a fit if I ask for them! He will fall down in a fit, I
am sure. Already he is vexed at my having cabled and written Lord K. for
_his_ (Maxwell's) Brigade of Gurkhas. To him I appear careless of his
(Maxwell's) position and of the narrowness of his margin of safety. For
the life of him K. can't help putting his Lieutenants into this
particular cart. The same old story as the eight small columns in the
Western Transvaal: co-equal and each thinking his own beat on the veldt
the only critical spot in South Africa: and the funny thing is that
Maxwell was then running the base at Vryberg and I was in command in the
field! But _there_ my word was law; _here_ Maxwell is entirely
independent of me, which is as much as to say, that the feet are not
under control of the head; i.e., that the expedition must move like a
drunken man. That is my fear: Maxwell will do what lies in him to help,
but in action it is better to order than to ask.
Grand lunch at the Abdin Palace with the Sultan. Most of the Cabinet
present. The Sultan spoke French well and seems clever as well as most
gracious and friendly. He assured me that the Turkish Forts at the
Dardanelles were absolutely impregnable. The words "absolute" and
"impregnable" don't impress me overmuch. They are only human opinions
used to gloss over flaws in the human knowledge or will. Nothing is
impregnable either--that's a sure thing. No reasons were given me by His
Highness.
Have just written home about these things: midnight.
_29th March, 1915. 9.30 p.m. Palace Hotel, Alexandria._ Early start to
the Mena Camp to see the Australians. A devil of a blinding storm gave a
foretaste of dust to dust. That was when they were marching past, but
afterwards I inspected the Infantry at close quarters, taking a good
look at each man and speaking to hundreds. Many had been at my
inspections in their own country a year ago, but most were new hands who
had never worn uniform till they 'listed for the war. The troops then
marched back to Camp in mass of quarter columns--or rather swept by like
a huge yellow cloud at the heart of which sparkled thousands of
bayonets.
Next I reviewed the Artillery, Engineers and Cavalry; winding up with
the overhaul of the supply and transport column. This took time, and I
had to make the motor travel getting across twelve miles or so to
inspect a mixed Division of Australians and New Zealanders at
Heliopolis. Godley commanded. Great fun seeing him again. These fellows
made a real good show; superb physique: numbers of old friends
especially amongst the New Zealanders. Another scurry in the motor to
catch the 4.15 for Alexandria. Tiring day if I had it in my mind to be
tired, but this 30,000 crowd of Birdwood's would straighten up the back
of a pacifist. There is a bravery in their air--a keenness upon their
clean cut features--they are spoiling for a scrap! Where they have
sprung from it is hard to say. Not in Brisbane, Adelaide, Sydney,
Melbourne or Perth--no, nor in Dunedin, Christchurch, Wellington or
Auckland, did I meet specimens like unto these. The spirit of War has
breathed its fires into their hearts; the drill sergeant has taken
thought and has added one cubit to their stature.
D'Amade has just been to make me known to a couple of Frenchmen about to
join my Staff. They seem to be nice fellows. The French have been here
some days and they are getting on well. Hunter-Weston landed this
morning; his first batch of transports are in the harbour. I am to see
the French troops in four days' time; Hunter-Weston's 29th Division on
the fifth day. Neither Commander has yet worked out how long it will
take before he has reloaded his transports. They declare it takes three
times as long to repack a ship loaded at haphazard as it would have
taken to have loaded her on a system in the first instance. Six days per
ship is their notion of what they can do, but I trust to improve a bit
on that.
Hunter-Weston had written me a letter from Malta (just to hand) putting
it down in black and white that we have not a reasonable prospect of
success. He seemed keen and sanguine when we met and made no reference
to this letter: so it comes in now as rather a startler. But it is best
to have the black points thrust upon one's notice beforehand--so long
always as I keep it fixed in the back of my mind that there was never
yet a great thought or a great deed which was not cried down as
unreasonable before the fact by a number of reasonable people!
_30th March, 1915. Alexandria._ Have just dictated a long letter to Lord
K. in the course of which I have forced myself to say something which
may cause the great man annoyance. I feel it is up to me to risk that.
One thing--he knows I am not one of those rotters who ask for more than
they can possibly be given so that, if things go wrong, they may
complain of their tools. I have promised K. to help him by keeping my
demands down to bedrock necessities. I make no demand for ammunition on
the France and Flanders scale but--we must have _some_! There must be a
depot somewhere within hail. Here is the crucial para.:--
"I realise how hard up you must be for ammunition, but I hope the M.G.O.
will have by now put in hand the building up of some reserves at our
base in Alexandria. If our batteries or battalions now serving in France
run short, something, at a pinch, can always be scraped together in
England and issued to them within 24 hours. Here it would be a question
of almost as many days, and, if it were to turn out that we have a long
and severe struggle, with no reserves nearer us than Woolwich--well--it
would not be pleasant! Moreover the number of howitzers, guns and rifles
in France is so enormous that it is morally impossible they should all
be hotly engaged at the same time. Thus they automatically form their
own reserves. In other words, a force possessing only ten howitzers
ought to have at least twice the reserves of a force possessing a
hundred howitzers. So at least it seems to me."
In the same letter I tell him about "Birdwood's crowd" and of their
splendid physique; their growing sense of discipline, their exceeding
great keenness, and wind up by saying that, given a fair chance, they
will, for certain, "render a very good account of themselves."
Confabs with d'Amade and Hunter-Weston. Hunter-Weston's "appreciation"
of the situation at the Dardanelles is to be treated as an _ad interim_
paper; he wrote it, he says now, without the fuller knowledge he is
daily acquiring--knowledge which is tending to make him more sanguine.
His stay at Malta and his talks with Officers there had greatly
impressed him with the hardness of the nut we have to try and crack; so
much so that his paper suggests an indefinite putting off of the attempt
to throw open the Straits. I asked him if he had laid his view before K.
in London and he said, No; that he had not then come to it and that he
had not definitely come to it now.
D'Amade's own inclinations would have led him to Asia. When he left
France he did not know he was to be under me and he had made up his mind
to land at Adramiti. But now he waives all preconceived ideas and is
keen to throw himself heart and soul into Lord K.'s ideas and mine. He
would rather I did not even refer to his former views as he sees they
are expressly barred by the tenor of my instructions. The French are
working to time in getting ship-shape. The 29th Division are arriving up
to date and about one-third of them have landed. We are fixing up our
gear for floating and other piers and are trying to improvise ways and
means of coping with the water problem--this ugly nightmare of a water
problem. The question of the carriage and storage of water for thousands
of men and horses over a roadless, mainly waterless track of country
should have been tackled before we left England.
To solve these conundrums we have had to recreate for ourselves a
special field service system of food, water and ammunition supply. As an
instance we have had to re-organise baggage sections of trains and fit
up store ships as substitutes for additional ammunition columns and
parks. We are getting on fairly fast with our work of telling off troops
to transports so that each boat load of men landed will be, so to say,
on its own; victualled, watered and munitioned. But it takes some doing.
Greatly handicapped by absence of any Administrative, or Q. Staff. The
General Staff are working double shifts, at a task for which they have
never been trained:--
It's a way we have in the Aaarmy!
It's a way we have in the NAAAAvy!!
It's a way we have in the Eeeeeempire!!!
That nobody can deny!!!!
What would my friends on the Japanese General Staff say--or my quondam
friends on the German General Staff--if they knew that a
Commander-in-Chief had been for a fortnight in touch with his troops,
engaged with them upon a huge administrative job, and that he had not
one administrative Staff Officer to help him, but was willynilly using
his General Staff for the work? They would say "mad Englishmen" and this
time they would be right. The British public services are poisoned by
two enormous fallacies: (_a_) if a man does well in one business, he
will do equally well or better in another; (_b_) if a man does badly in
one business he will do equally badly or worse in another. There is
nothing beyond a vague, floating reputation or public opinion to enable
a new Minister to know his subordinates. The Germans have tabulated the
experiences and deficiencies of our leaders, active and potential, in
peace and war--we have not! Every British General of any note is
analysed, characterised and turned inside out in the bureau records of
the great German General Staff in Berlin. We only attempt anything of
that sort with burglars. My own portrait is in those archives and is
very good if not very flattering; so a German who had read it has told
me. This is organisation: this is business; but official circles in
England are so remote in their methods from these particular notions of
business that I must turn to a big newspaper shop to let anyone even
begin to understand what it is to run Q. business with a G.S. team.
Suppose Lord Northcliffe decided to embark upon a journalistic campaign
in Canada and that his scheme turned upon time; that it was a question
of Northcliffe catching time by the forelock or of time laying
Northcliffe by the heels. Suppose, further, that he had no first-hand
knowledge of Canada and had decided to place the conduct of the campaign
in the hands of his brother who would spy out the land; choose the best
site; buy a building; order the printing press; engage hands and start
the paper. Well; what staff would he send with him? A couple of leader
writers, a trio of special correspondents and half a dozen reporters?
Probably; but would there not also be berths taken in the Cunarder for a
manager trained in the business side of journalism? Quite a fair way of
putting the present case, although, on the other side, it is also fair
to add that British Officers have usually had to play so many parts in
the charade of square pegs in round holes, that they can catch a hold
anywhere, at any time, and carry on somehow.
_31st March, 1915. Alexandria._--Quill driving and dictating. Have made
several remonstrances lately at the way McMahon is permitting the
Egyptian Press to betray our intentions, numbers, etc. It is almost
incredible and Maxwell doesn't see his way clear to interfere. For the
last day or two they have been telling the Turks openly where we are
bound for. So I have written McMahon the following:--
"General Headquarters,
"18 RUE EL CAIED GOHAR,
"ALEXANDRIA, 31/3/15.
"DEAR HIGH COMMISSIONER,
"I was somewhat startled a couple of mornings ago by an article in the
_Egyptian Gazette_ giving away the arrival of the French troops, and
making open references to the Gallipoli Peninsula. The very frankness of
such communications may of course mislead the Turk into thinking we mean
thereby to take his mind off some other place which is our real
objective, but I doubt it. He knows our usual methods too well.
"Consequently as it is very important at least to throw him into some
state of bewilderment as to our movements, I propose sending the
following cable to Lord Kitchener:--
"'Whether of set purpose or through inadvertence articles have appeared
in Egyptian Press openly discussing arrival of French and British troops
and naming Gallipoli as their destination. Is there any political
objection to my cautiously spreading rumour that our true objective is,
say, Smyrna?'
"Before I despatch the wire, however, I think I should like you to see
it, in case you have any objections. I have all the facilities for
spreading any rumour I like through my Intelligence Branch, which would
be less suspected than information leaking out from political sources.
"Could you kindly send me a wire on receipt of this?
"Yours sincerely,
(_Sd._) "IAN HAMILTON."
"I only propose to ask Lord K. in case there may be political reasons
why I should not select any particular place about which to spread a
rumour of our landing."
Forgot to note a step taken yesterday--to nowhere perhaps--perhaps to
Constantinople. Yesterday the _Doris_ brought me a copy of a long cable
sent by Winston to de Robeck six days ago, together with a copy of the
V.A.'s reply. The First Lord is clearly in favour of the Fleet going on
knocking the Forts to pieces whilst the Army are getting on with their
preparations; clearly also he thinks that, under rough handling from
Q.E. & Co., the Turkish resistance might at any moment collapse. Then we
should sail through as per Lord K.'s programme. Well; nothing would suit
me so well. If we are to have an opposed landing better kill two birds
with one stone and land bang upon the Bosphorus. The nearer to the heart
I can strike my first blow, the more telling it will be. Cable 140 puts
the case very well. Winston hits the nail on the head, so it seems to
me, when he points out that the Navy is not tied to the apron strings of
the Army but that it is the other way about: i.e., if the Fleet makes
another big push whilst we are getting ready, they can still fall back
on the combined show with us if they fail; whereas, if they succeed they
will save us all the loss of life and energy implied by an opposed
landing at the Dardanelles. Certainly Braithwaite and I had understood
that de Robeck would work to that end; that this is what he was driving
at when he said he would not be idle but would keep the Turks busy
whilst we were getting ready. Nothing will induce me to volunteer
opinions on Naval affairs. But de Robeck's reply to Winston might be
read as if I _had_ expressed an opinion, so I am bound to clear up that
point--definitely.
"_From_ GENERAL SIR IAN HAMILTON.
"_To_ VICE-ADMIRAL SIR JOHN DE ROBECK.
"Copy of number 140 from Admiralty received AAA I had already
communicated outline of our plan to Lord Kitchener and am pushing on
preparations as fast as possible AAA War Office still seems to cherish
hope that you may break through without landing troops AAA Therefore, as
regards yourself I think wisest procedure will be to push on
systematically though not recklessly in attack on Forts AAA It is always
possible that opposition may crumple up AAA If you should succeed be
sure to leave light cruisers enough to see me through my military attack
in the event of that being after all necessary AAA If you do not succeed
then I think we quite understand one another AAA
"IAN HAMILTON."
_1st April, 1915. Alexandria._ The _Arcadian_ has arrived bringing my
A.G. and Q.M.G. with the second echelon of the Staff. God be praised for
this immense relief! The General Staff can now turn to their legitimate
business--the enemy, instead of struggling night and day with A.G. and
Q.M.G. affairs; allocating troops and transports; preparing for water
supply; tackling questions of procedure and discipline. We are all sorry
for the Q. Staff who, through no fault of their own, have been late for
the fair, _their_ special fair, the preparation, and find the show is
practically over. On paper at least, the Australians and New Zealanders
and the 29th Division are properly fixed up. We should begin embarking
these formations within the next three days. After that will come the
Naval Division from Port Said and the French Division from here.
_2nd April, 1915. Alexandria._ Hard at it all day in office. Am leaving
to-night by special train for Port Said to hurry things along.
A cable in from the Foreign Office telling me that the Russian part of
my force consists of a complete Army Corps under General
Istomine--evidently War and Foreign Offices still work in watertight
compartments!
Left Alexandria last night at 11 and came into Port Said at dawn. After
breakfast mounted an Arab charger which seems to have emerged out of the
desert to meet my wishes just as do special trains and banquets: as if I
wore on my finger the magic ring of the Arabian fairy tale: so I do I
suppose, in the command it has pleased K., Imperial Grand Vizier, to
bestow upon this humble but lively speck of dust. Mounting we cantered
through the heavy sand towards the parade ground near the docks. Here,
like a wall, stood Winston's far-famed Naval Division drawn up in its
battle array. General Paris received me backed by Olivant and Staff.
After my inspection the Division marched past, and marched past very
well indeed, much better than they did when I saw them some months ago
in Kent, although the sand was against them, muffling the stamp of feet
which binds a Company together and telling unevenly on different parts
of the line. Admiral Pierce and his Flag Captain, Burmeister, honoured
the occasion: they were on foot and so, not to elevate the stature of
the Army above that of the Senior Service, I took the salute dismounted.
Next had a look round camp. Found things so, so. Saw Arthur Asquith and
Rupert Brooke of the Howe Battalion, both sick, neither bad. Asked
Brooke to join my personal Staff, not as a fire insurance (seeing what
happened to Ronnie Brooke at Elandslaagte and to Ava at Waggon Hill) but
still as enabling me to keep an eye on the most distinguished of the
Georgians. Young Brooke replied, as a _preux chevalier_ would naturally
reply,--he realised the privileges he was foregoing, but he felt bound
to do the landing shoulder-to-shoulder with his comrades. He looked
extraordinarily handsome, quite a knightly presence, stretched out there
on the sand with the only world that counts at his feet.
Lunched on the _Franconia_ and conversed with Lieutenant-Colonel
Matthews and Major Mewes of the Plymouth Battalion; also with Major
Palmer. To see with your eyes; to hear with your ears; to touch with
your fingers enables you to bring the truth home to yourself. Five
minutes of that personal touch tells a man more than five weeks of
report reading. In five minutes I gained from these Officers five times
more knowledge about Sedd-el-Bahr and Kum Kale than all their own bald
despatches describing their own landings and cutting-out enterprises had
given me. Paris' account had not helped me much either, the reason being
that it was not first hand,--was only so many words that he had
heard,--was not what he had _felt_. Now, I do really, at last and for
the first time, realistically grasp the lie of the land and of the
Turks. The prospect is not too rosy, but Wolfe, I daresay, saw blue as
he gazed over the water at his problem, without map or General Staff
plan to help him. There lay Quebec; within cannon shot; but that enemy
was thrice his strength; entrenched in a fortress--there they lay
confident--a landing was "impossible!" But all things are possible--to
faith. He had faith in Pitt; faith in his own bright particular star;
faith in the British Fleet standing resolute at his back:--he launched
his attack; he got badly beaten at the landing; he pulled himself
together; he met a thousand and one mishaps and delays, and when, at the
long last, he fell, he had the plum in his pocket.
The Turks lie close within a few yards of the water's edge on the
Peninsula. Matthews smiled sarcastically at the War Office idea that no
Turks can exist South of Achi Baba! At Sedd-el-Bahr, the first houses
are empty, being open to the fire of the Fleet, but the best part of the
other houses are defiladed by the ground and a month ago they were held.
Glad I did not lose a minute after seeing the ground in asking Maxwell
and Methuen to make me some trench mortars. Methuen says he can't help,
but Maxwell's Ordnance people have already fixed up a sample or
two--rough things, but better than nothing. We have too little shrapnel
to be able to spare any for cutting entanglements. Trench mortars may
help where the Fleet can't bring their guns to bear. The thought of all
that barbed wire tucked away into the folds of the ground by the shore
follows me about like my shadow.
Left Port Said for Kantara and got there in half an hour. General Cox,
an old Indian friend of the days when I was A.D.C. to Sir Fred., met me
at the station. He commands the Indian troops in Egypt. We nipped into a
launch on the Canal, and crossed over to inspect the Companies of the
Nelson, Drake, Howe and Anson Battalions in their Fort, whilst Cox
hurried off to fix up a parade of his own.
The Indian Brigade were drawn up under Brigadier-General Mercer. After
inspection, the troops marched past headed by the band of the 14th
Sikhs. No one not a soldier can understand what it means to an old
soldier who began fighting in the Afghan War under Roberts of Kandahar
to be in touch once again with Sikhs and Gurkhas, those splendid
knights-errant of India.
After about eighteen years' silence, I thought my Hindustani would fail
me, but the words seemed to drop down from Heaven on to my tongue. Am
able now to understand the astonishment of St. Paul when he found
himself jabbering nineteen to the dozen in lingo, Greek to him till
then. But he at least was exempt from my worst terror which was that at
any moment I might burst into German!
After our little _durbar_, the men were dismissed to their lines and I
walked back to the Fort. There I suddenly ordered the alarm to be
sounded (I had not told anyone of my intention) so the swift yet smooth
fall-in to danger posts was a feather in Cox's helmet.
Back to main camp and there saw troops not manning the Fort. There were
the:--
Queen Victoria's Own
Sappers Captain Hogg, R.E.,
69th Punjabis Colonel Harding,
89th Punjabis Colonel Campbell,
14th K.G.O. Sikhs Colonel Palin,
1st Bn. 6th Gurkhas Colonel Bruce,
29th Mountain Battery
and the Bikaner Camel
Corps Major Bruce.
Had a second good talk to the Native Officers, shaking hands all round.
Much struck with the turn-out of the 29th Mountain Battery which is to
come along with the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps to the
Dardanelles.
From the platform of the Fort the lines of our defences and the way the
Turks attacked them stood out very clearly to a pair of field glasses.
Why, with so many mounted men some effort was not made to harry the
enemy's retreat, Cox cannot tell me. There were no trenches and the
desert had no limits.
_Now_ (in the train on my way back to Alexandria) I must have one more
try at K. about these Gurkhas! My official cable and letter asking for
the Gurkha Brigade have fallen upon stony ground. No notice of any sort
has been vouchsafed to my modest request. Has _any_ action been taken
upon them? Possibly the matter has been referred to Maxwell for opinion?
If so, he has said nothing about it, which does not promise well. Cox
has heard nothing from Cairo; only no end of camp rumours. Most likely
K. is vexed with me for asking for these troops at all, and thinks I am
already forgetting his warning not to put him in the cart by asking for
too many things. France must not be made jealous and Egypt ditto, I
suppose. I cannot possibly repeat my official cable and my demi-official
letter. The whole is _most_ disappointing. Here is Cox and here are his
men, absolutely wasted and frightfully keen to come. There are the
Dardanelles short-handed; there is the New Zealand Division short of a
Brigade. If surplus and deficit had the same common denominator, say
"K." or "G.S." they would wipe themselves out to the instant
simplification of the problem. As it is, they are kept on separate
sheets of paper;
too many troops too few troops
Maxwell Hamilton
* * * * *
Have just finished dictating a letter to K., giving him an account of my
inspection of the Indian troops and of how "they made my mouth water,
especially the 6th Gurkhas." I ask him if I could not anyway have _them_
"as a sort of escort to the Mountain Battery," and go on to say, "The
desert is drying up, Cox tells me; such water as there is is becoming
more and more brackish and undrinkable; and no other serious raid, in
his opinion, will be possible this summer." I might have added that once
we open the ball at the Dardanelles the old Turks must dance to our
tune, and draw in their troops for the defence of Constantinople but it
does not do to be too instructive to one's Grandmother. So there it is:
I have done the best I can.
_4th April, 1915. Alexandria._ Busy day in office. Things beginning to
hum. A marvellous case of "two great minds." K. has proffered his advice
upon the tactical problem, and how it should be dealt with, and, as I
have just cabled in answer, "No need to send you my plan as you have got
it in one, even down to details, only I have not shells enough to cut
through barbed wire with my field guns or howitzers." I say also, "I
should much like to have some hint as to my future supply of gun and
rifle ammunition. The Naval Division has only 430 rounds per rifle and
the 29th Division only 500 rounds which means running it fine."
What might seem, to a civilian, a marvellous case of coincidence or
telepathy were he ever to compare my completed plan with K.'s cabled
suggestion is really one more instance of the identity of procedure born
of a common doctrine between two soldiers who have worked a great deal
together. Given the same facts the odds are in favour of these facts
being seen eye to eye by each.
Forgot to note that McMahon answered my letter of the 31st personally,
on the telephone, saying he had no objection to my cabling K. or
spreading any reports I liked through my Intelligence, but that he is
not keeper of the _Egyptian Gazette_ and must not quarrel with it as
Egypt is not at war! No wonder he prefers the telephone to the telegram
I begged him to send me if he makes these sort of answers. Egypt is in
the war area and, if it were not, McMahon can do anything he likes. The
_Gazette_ continues to publish full details of our actions and my only
hope is that the Turks will not be able to believe in folly so
incredible.
_5th April, 1915. Alexandria._ Motored after early breakfast to French
Headquarters at the Victoria College. Here I was met by d'Amade and an
escort of Cuirassiers, and, getting on to my Australian horse, trotted
off to parade.
Coming on to the ground, the French trumpeters blew a lively fanfare
which was followed by a roll of drums. Never was so picturesque a
parade, the verdict of one who can let his mind rove back through the
military pageants of India, Russia, Japan, Germany, Austria,
Switzerland, China, Canada, U.S.A., Australia, and New Zealand. Yes,
Alexandria has seen some pretty shows in its time; Cleopatra had an eye
to effect and so, too, had the great Napoleon. But I doubt whether the
townsfolk have ever seen anything to equal the _coup d'oeil_ engineered
by d'Amade. Under an Eastern sun the colours of the French uniforms,
gaudy in themselves, ran riot, and the troops had surely been posted by
one who was an artist in more than soldiering. Where the yellow sand was
broken by a number of small conical knolls with here and there a group,
and here and there a line, of waving palms, there, on the knolls, were
clustered the Mountain Batteries and the Batteries of Mitrailleuses. The
Horse, Foot and Guns were drawn up, Infantry in front, Cavalry in rear,
and the Field Artillery--the famous 75s--at right angles.
Infantry of the Line in grey; Zouaves in blue and red; Senegalese wore
dark blue and the Foreign Legion blue-grey. The Cavalry rode Arabs and
barbs mostly white stallions; they wore pale blue tunics and bright
scarlet breeches.
I rode down the lines of Infantry first and then galloped through the
heavy sand to the right of the Cavalry and inspected them, by d'Amade's
request, at a trot, winding up with the six Batteries of Artillery. On
reaching the Saluting Base, I was introduced to the French Minister
whilst d'Amade presented colours to two Regiments (175th Régiment de
marche d'Afrique and the 4th Colonial Regiment) making a short and
eloquent speech.
He then took command of the parade and marched past me at the head of
his forces. Were all the Houris of Paradise waving lily hands on the one
side, and were these French soldiers on the other side, I would give my
cold shoulder to the Houris.
The Cavalry swung along at the trot to the cadence of the trumpets and
to the clink-clank and glitter of steel. The beautiful, high-stepping
barbs; the trembling of the earth beneath their hoofs; the banner
streaming; the swordsmen of France sweeping past the saluting base;
breaking into the gallop; sounding the charge; charging; _ventre à
terre_; out into the desert where, in an instant, they were snatched
from our sight and changed into a pillar of dust!
High, high soared our hopes. Jerusalem--Constantinople? No limit to what
these soldiers may achieve. The thought passed through the massed
spectators and set enthusiasm coursing through their veins. Loudly they
cheered; hats off; and hurrah for the Infantry! Hurrah, hurrah for the
Cavalry!! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah for the 75s!!!
At the end I said a few farewell words to the French Minister and then
galloped off with d'Amade. The bystanders gave us, too, the warmest
greetings, the bulk of them (French and Greek) calling out "d'Amade!"
and the Britishers also shouting all sorts of things at the pitch of
their voices.
Almost lost my temper with Woodward, my new A.G., and this was the
thusness thereof:--
Time presses: K. prods us from the rear: the Admiral from the front. To
their eyes we seem to be dallying amidst the fleshpots of Egypt whereas,
really, we are struggling like drowning mariners in a sea of chaos;
chaos in the offices; chaos on the ships; chaos in the camps; chaos
along the wharves; chaos half seas over rolling down the Seven Sisters
Road. The powers of Maxwell as C.-in-C., Egypt; of the Sultan and
McMahon, High Commissioner of Egypt, and of myself, C.-in-C., M.E.F.,
not to speak of the powers of our police civil and military, have all to
be defined and wheeled into line. We cannot go rushing off into space
leaving Pandemonium behind us as our Base! I know these things from a
very long experience. Braithwaite believes in the principle as a student
and ex-teacher of students. And yet that call to the front!
We've _got_ to tackle the landing scheme on the spot and quick. Luckily
the problems at Alexandria are _all_ non-tactical; pure A.G. and Q.M.G.
Staff questions; whereas, at present, the problems awaiting me at the
Dardanelles are mainly tactical; G.S. questions. So I am going to treat
G.H.Q. as Solomon threatened to treat the baby; i.e., leave the
Administrative Staff here until they knock their pidgin more or less
into shape and send off the G.S. to pluck _their_ pidgin at the Straits.
The Q. people have still to commandeer offices for Woodward's men, three
quarters of whom stay here permanently to do the casualty work; they
have to formulate a local code of discipline; take up buildings for base
hospitals and arrange for their personnel and equipment; outline their
schemes for getting sick and wounded back from the front; finish up the
loading of the ships, etc., etc., etc., _ad infinitum_. Whilst the Q.
Staff are thus pulling their full weight, the G. Staff will sail off
quickly and put their heads together with the Admiral and his Staff. As
to myself, I'm off: I cannot afford to lose more time in getting into
touch with the sailors, and the scene of action.
All was well until the Commander-in-Chief said he was going, but that
moment arose the good old trouble--the trouble which muddled our start
for the Relief of Chitral and ruined the Tirah Campaign. Everyone wants
to rush off to the excitement of the firing line--(a spasm usually cured
by the first hard fight), and to leave the hum-drum business of the Base
and Line of Communication to shift for itself. Braithwaite, of all
people, was good natured enough to plead for the Administration. He came
to tell me that it might tend towards goodwill amongst the charmed
circle of G.H.Q. if even now, at the eleventh hour, I would sweeten
Woodward by bringing him along. I said, yes, if he, Braithwaite, would
stand surety that he, Woodward, had fixed up his base hospitals and
third echelon, but if not, no! Next came Woodward himself. With great
pertinacity he represented that his subordinates could do all that had
to be done at the base. He says he speaks for the Q.M.G., as well as for
the Director General of Medical Services, and that they all want to
accompany me on my reconnaissance of the coasts of the Peninsula. I was
a little sharp with him. These heads of Departments think they must be
sitting in the C.-in-C.'s pocket lest they lose caste. But I say the
Departments must be where their work lies, or else the C.-in-C. will
lose caste, and luckily he can still put his own Staff where he will.
Finally, I agreed to take with me the Assistant to the Director of
Medical Services to advise his own Chief as to the local bearings of his
scheme for clearing out the sick and wounded; the others stay here until
they get their several shows into working order, and with that my A.G.
had fain to be content.
D'Amade and two or three Frenchmen are dining with me to-night. Sir John
Maxwell has just arrived.
_6th April, 1915. Alexandria._ Started out at 9.15 with d'Amade and Sir
John to review the Mounted troops of the 29th Division. We first saw
them march down the road in column of route. What a contrast between
these solid looking men on their magnificent weight-carrying horses and
our wiry little Allies on their barbs and Arabs. The R.H.A. were superb.
After seeing the troops I motored to Mex Camp and inspected the 86th and
87th Infantry Brigades. There was a strong wind blowing which tried to
spoil the show, but could not--that Infantry was too superb! Alexander,
Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon; not one of them had the handling of
legionaries like these. The Fusilier Brigade were the heavier. If we
don't win, I won't be able to put it on the men.
Maxwell left at 4 p.m. for Cairo. I have pressed him hard about Cox's
Indian Brigade and told him of my conversation with Cox himself and of
how keen all ranks of the Brigade are to come. No use. He expects, so he
says, a big attack on the Canal any moment; he has heard nothing from
K.; the fact that K. has ignored my direct appeal to him shows he would
not approve, etc., etc., etc. All this is just the line I myself would
probably take--I admit it--if asked by another General to part with my
troops. The arrangement whereby I have to sponge on Maxwell for men if I
want them is a detestable arrangement. At the last he consented to cable
K. direct on the point himself and then he is to let me know. Two things
are quite certain; the Brigade are not wanted in Egypt. Old campaigners
versed in Egyptian war lore tell me that the drying up of the wells must
put the lid on to any move across the desert until the winter rains,
and, apart from this, how in the name of the beard of their own false
prophet can the Turks attack Egypt whilst we are at the gates of
Constantinople?
But if the Brigade are not wanted on the Canal, we are bound to be the
better for them at the Dardanelles, whatever course matters there may
take. Concentration is the cue! The German or Japanese General Staffs
would tumble to these truths and act upon them presto. K. sees them too,
but nothing can overcome his passion for playing off one Commander
against another, whereby K. of K. keeps all reins in his hands and
remains sole arbiter between them.
Birdwood has just turned up. We're off to-morrow evening.
'Phoned Maxwell last thing telling him to be sure not to forget to jog
K.'s elbow about Cox and his Gurkhas.
_7th April, 1915. S.S. "Arcadian." 10 p.m._ D'Amade looked in to say
good-bye.
On my way down to the harbour I overhauled the Assyrian Jewish Refugee
Mule Corps at the Wardian Camp. Their Commander, author of that
thrilling shocker, "The Man-killers of Tsavo," finds Assyrians and mules
rather a mouthful and is going to tabloid bipeds and quadrupeds into
"The Zion Corps." The mules look very fit; so do the Assyrians and,
although I did not notice that their cohorts were gleaming with purple
or gold, they may help us to those habiliments: they may, in fact, serve
as ground bait to entice the big Jew journalists and bankers towards our
cause; the former will lend us the colour, the latter the coin. Anyway,
so far as I can, I mean to give the chosen people a chance.
Got aboard at 5.15, but owing to some hitch in the arrangements for
filling up our tanks with fresh water, we are held up and won't get off
until to-morrow morning.
If there drops a gnat into the ointment of the General, be sure there
are ten thousand flies stinking the ointment of the troops.
_8th April, 1915. S.S. "Arcadian."_ Sailing free to the Northwards. A
fine day and a smooth sea. What would not Richard Coeur de Lion or
Napoleon have given for the _Arcadian_ to take them to St. Jean d'Acre
and Jerusalem?
As we were clearing harbour a letter was brought out to us by a launch:
"UNION CLUB,
"ALEXANDRIA.
"The following telephone received from General Maxwell, Cairo:--Your
message re Cox, I will do my best to meet your wishes. Will you in your
turn assist me in getting the seaplanes arriving here in _Ganges_? I
have wired to Admiral de Robeck, I want them badly, so please help me if
you can.
"_Forwarded by_ ADMIRAL ROBINSON."
Cutlet for cutlet! I wish it had occurred to me sooner to do a deal with
some aeroplanes. But, then I have none. No matter: I should have
promised him de Robeck's! South Africa repeats itself! Egypt and Mudros
are not one but two. Maxwell and I are co-equal allies; _not_ a combine
under a Boss!