An Amphibious Expedition
"Garden of Eden, indeed!" growled Philip, some few weeks after that fine
combat in which the Indian Expeditionary Force had proved so successful,
and had cleared the road to Kurnah. "Where's the garden?"
The disdainful Mahratta subaltern looked round him from the doorstep of
the house in which he and a few of his brother officers had taken up
their quarters, and to which at that moment his chum Geoff had paid a
visit. And well might the youthful and disgusted Phil have turned up his
nose, have scoffed, and have shown the most infinite displeasure, for
rains had set in since the occupation of Kurnah, and the whole
country-side was soaked. That smooth, sandy, and gravelly desert was
covered a foot deep in sticky, sandy mud, different from any mud
encountered elsewhere; mud which clung to the boots, which piled up on
the feet of those who trudged about the camp, and who must needs
therefore carry about with them so much extra weight.
A hot, stifling mist hung over the country and blotted out the River
Tigris. For, bear in mind, the Expedition had now advanced beyond the
junction of the Euphrates and the Tigris Rivers, and had camped on the
banks of the latter. Time was, centuries before, when these two
historic rivers had come together in the neighbourhood of Kurnah--the
little town now captured--where the country-side was drained, and
fertile, and productive, and where, no doubt, date-palms had offered
grateful shade, and patches of green had relieved the dull, dirty yellow
of the desert. But that was in days gone by. Now, a change in the course
of the River Euphrates--a river which, like many a one in China, changes
its course in the most fickle and unforeseen manner--had cut a channel
for itself farther to the south, where it now met the Tigris. "Garden
indeed!" The place was a muddy swamp, set amidst the most depressing
surroundings.
"Not so very cheerful," Geoff had to agree, as he puffed at a cigarette
and smiled at the indignant Philip; "but then we're campaigning, my dear
fellow, and soldiers should take things as they come, and not grouse and
grumble."
"Shut up!" Philip told him. "None of your Head-quarters airs for me!
What's doing?"
It was always the way with Philip to demand of his chum what movements
might be expected, as if indeed, though attached to the Head-quarters,
Geoff was likely to be in the confidence of his seniors. Yet he knew
something of their intentions at times, and knew well enough that
further movement was anticipated.
"You see, it's like this," he told Philip, there being no one else
about. "The party we sent off along the Karun River and the pipe-line
into Persia have seized Ahwaz, and have secured the oil-supply for our
battleships. Just look at this map I am making in the mud! Rather a good
place for drawing one, ain't it? Now, here's the Tigris and Kurnah, and
there are the swamps that we went into with Commander Houston. By the
way, glad to hear that he's doing well. He's on his way to India now,
and good reports have been received about him. Well, there are the
marshes."
"Where our good friend the Turk did us the honour of joining us, eh!"
grinned Philip. "What an adventure that was, Geoff! Wish we could have
more of 'em!"
It was Geoff's turn to tell his friend to "Shut up!"
"Don't interrupt!" he said irritably, thrusting the point of his stick
deep into the mud, and pointing impatiently to the map which he had been
outlining. "Let a fellow get on with his description. There's the
Tigris."
"You've said that already," grumbled Philip.
"Well, I say it again! There it is!"
"Yes, the Tigris, we all know that! Put a T against it!"
That made Geoff laugh, and obediently he sketched a huge T in the sand
and mud before him.
"Right oh!" he said. "Tigris."
"Get on," growled Philip. "Here are the marshes," and bending swiftly he
scraped a row of lines in the mud. "Marshes--M--there we are, and just
about here, I suppose, will be the spot where our dear friend the Turk
joined us."
He dug a finger deep into the mud in the midst of the patch which he had
designated "marshes", and then, standing up, grinned irritatingly at
Geoff.
"We know all about that," he went on. "T for Tigris, M for marshes!
What next? K for Kurnah, I suppose."
"It's there--K!" said Geoff, laughing, for who could allow himself to be
irritated with Philip? "K for Kurnah, and B for Basra. There's the head
of the Persian Gulf, and there's Ahwaz. Now let's move up this line we
call the Tigris. Perhaps a hundred miles up there is a place called
Amara, from which the enemy can easily reinforce the troops they have in
front of Ahwaz; there's nothing to prevent them but marshes and desert,
and seeing that they've lived all their lives in such surroundings they
know all about them. So the next move is there, to seize Amara, and make
doubly secure that our pipe-line cannot be cut or damaged."
As a matter of fact, the sketch-map which Geoff had drawn in the mud for
the edification of his chum, was not entirely complete or informative,
and we hasten at this point to supplement the information he had given.
Had he prolonged the line which represented the Tigris River farther to
the north and west, as it bent in that direction, he would, when he had
covered sufficient space to indicate perhaps another hundred miles of
desert country, have come to a place called Kut-el-Amara, where at that
very moment Turks were in force; and, arrived at Kut, he would no doubt
have carried on the line, making it twirl and twist in many
directions--for above Kut-el-Amara the Tigris winds considerably and is
most difficult of navigation--to Bagdad, that city where Major Joseph
Douglas had taken up his quarters, and where the onset of this huge
world war had found him an alien in a nest of enemies.
Going farther, Geoff's stick would have scratched the line in an almost
due southerly direction till it struck that broad patch which Philip had
contemptuously designated marshes. Unknown then to the leaders of the
Indian Expeditionary Force, a channel runs from Kut-el-Amara down to the
head of those marshes into the midst of which Geoff and his chum had so
recently ventured, and ends at a spot on the River Euphrates where that
broad, sluggish, and ever-changing stream plunges into the mass of sandy
and reed-covered islets which form the marshes at Nasiriyeh, where at
that very moment Turks were collecting. Not, let us add, that the Indian
Expeditionary Force was entirely ignorant of their situation, for,
indeed, the Intelligence Branch, thanks to the capture of that fat
Turkish officer, had considerable news of a force of Turks collecting at
Nasiriyeh. Yet they did not know of the Kut-el-Hai, connecting Nasiriyeh
and Kut-el-Amara, and therefore were not aware that the Turks could
reinforce the garrison already collected at the head of the marshes, and
were at that moment hastily doing so. This force, joined by numbers of
Arabs and tribesmen, was even then moving down beside the marshes,
following their edge, and taking advantage of the drier parts where the
desert was not submerged, their objective being Shaiba, hardly ten miles
to the south-west of Basra.
Information of their coming reached the Head-quarters of the division
within a few hours, in fact, at the moment when Geoff and Philip were so
eagerly discussing the situation, and the blare of bugles, and the stir
in the camp, immediately gave occasion to Philip to demand once more of
his friend: "What's up?"
"Remember that old Turk?" asked Geoff.
"Not 'arf!" grinned Philip.
"And the tale he gave us of the Turks at the head of the marshes?"
"Get along with it!" Philip told him.
"Well, the enemy are said to be now at Shaiba, within striking distance
of Basra, and we are sending back to reinforce our troops there."
"Mahrattas?" asked Philip eagerly.
"Can't say," came the short answer. "You'll know precious soon. So long,
Philip! I'm busy."
Geoff was, as a matter of fact, frantically busy; so busy, and so
engaged in carrying messages, that he might, had he been inclined to
arrogance, have suddenly formed the idea that he was the most important
individual with the division. Dashing backwards and forwards on Sultan's
back, he had hardly time to think of the Mahrattas, of Philip, or of
anything else but his present duties; and it was not until some days
later that the two met in the neighbourhood of Shaiba.
"Somewhere about twenty thousand Turks opposite us," Geoff was able to
tell his friend, "and plenty of guns. We're moving out to attack them.
The beggars are entrenched at the foot of a slope along a line about two
miles in length, and their supports occupy the high ground behind them.
Of course there are German officers with them."
That early morning, was repeated in the neighbourhood of Shaiba the
action which the Indian Expeditionary Force had fought on its way to
Kurnah; for the troops advanced over the open, there being not a vestige
of cover, while the cavalry manoeuvred towards the flank of the
enemy; a guard of Arab horsemen, and amongst them the chief whose
acquaintance we have already made, supporting the regular cavalry and
making ready for a dash upon the enemy.
To hardened campaigners, as Geoff and Philip had now become, the roar of
guns, the splash of shells, and the detonations about them made hardly
any difference; they were as cool as cucumbers, and went on with their
work as though nothing were happening. And gradually, as the hours flew
on, Indian and British--those gallant troops who had invaded
Mesopotamia--advanced upon the Turks by little rushes, advanced, and
then lay down, throwing up a parapet of sand in front of them to give
them some protection, while British guns thundered in the rear and
plumped shells into the Turkish trenches. And then that long blast was
repeated, that shout down the line of attacking troops, the shrill
shriek of officers' whistles, and the charge which was to carry our men
into the enemy's position had begun. With those shouts there mingled the
shrieks of hundreds of Arab horsemen--those excited individuals
manoeuvring at that moment towards the flank of the Turkish trenches.
Their shrill cries could be heard right across the field of battle,
while their robed figures, their waving arms, and their gesticulations
could be observed from the far distance. Waiting till the British troops
had plunged into the Turkish trenches, and until the enemy were broken
and were fleeing, the Arabs burst like a bolt towards the open, and,
swinging in behind those trenches, went charging amongst the enemy,
cutting them down, shouting as they rode, riding over the unfortunate
subjects of the Sultan and those scheming German officers who had come
to train the enemy. One moment there was Bedlam--shouts and shrieks, the
rattle of rifles, the sharp splutter of machine-guns and the deeper roar
of cannon--and the next there was almost complete silence, save for the
distant calls of those fierce Arab horsemen wreaking vengeance upon the
Turks.
"And now commences the march on Amara," Geoff was able to tell his
friend a few days later. "We've got the Turks running, and I expect the
G.O.C. will make the most of it. A sharp and rapid advance might allow
us to capture Amara with little opposition, and then we should be firmly
posted on the river and able to take up a defensive position."
As a matter of fact, the capture of Amara was, in its way, a startling
and most dramatic affair, and proved, if proof were necessary, that the
nerves of the Turks had been considerably shaken. For though the
advance-guard of the Expeditionary Force advancing towards Amara was of
but slender proportions, it met detachments of Turkish troops coming
towards it, troops anxious to surrender, so that the town of Amara was
seized without so much as a shot being fired, and was promptly occupied
by the British.
But the task of the Expeditionary Force to Mesopotamia was not yet
completed, not by a great deal, for now there came news of that channel,
the Kut-el-Hai, leading from Kut-el-Amara to Nasiriyeh, and it became
necessary to seize both points before our troops could have any
security. Preparations were therefore made to attack both places, and,
to the delight of Geoff and Philip, they were both detailed to accompany
an expedition, designed to strike at Nasiriyeh, through those marshes
which they had already penetrated.
Meanwhile, to bring our tale up to date, one needs to mention that, as
the months had gone by, as that trench line had been dug firmly across
Belgium and France, and had held up the advance of the Germans on Calais
and Paris, the Russian line too had checked the enemy, had advanced
across Poland and into Galicia, and was within an ace of invading
Austria-Hungary. In the Caucasus, a Turkish army corps had been severely
dealt with by the Tsar's forces called to that inhospitable region;
while an ambitious if reckless attempt on the Suez Canal, on the part of
Turkey, had met with dismal failure.
The taking of Amara, in fact, coincides with the period when Britain had
recovered from the first shock of this sudden and unexpected conflict,
when she was training those hundreds of thousands of volunteers who had
answered the call of their country, and when, while fighting beside the
French in France, she still had troops sufficient to attack the enemy
elsewhere. Even as those gallant Indian and British troops with the
Mesopotamia Force charged down upon the trenches at Shaiba, other
British troops--men from England, from Australia, and New Zealand--were
gathering in the neighbourhood of Egypt. Indeed, within a few days there
occurred a landing on the Peninsula of Gallipoli, a most desperate and
gallant undertaking, which launched Great Britain and France into a
conflict the difficulty of which was stupendous, and the result of which
cannot be said to have been altogether a failure, though it failed to
gain for us the capture of those forts which line the approach to
Constantinople. A conflict, in fact, abortive, as it proved, yet one
which struck the Turks an exceedingly heavy blow, and set up a record of
bravery and determination on the part of British and French which will
never be exceeded.
Was there ever such an expedition as that which set out for Nasiriyeh?
"Queer, ain't it?" remarked Philip, on the point of embarking with his
chum Geoff on board the steam-launch which they had captured from the
enemy in the midst of the same marshes whither they were now bound. "Did
you ever see such a collection of boats and fellows? and the navy look
as though they meant to make a race of the business."
There was a string of bellums--the shallow light craft common to that
part of Mesopotamia, and used by the natives for progress through the
marshes--towing at the tail end of the steam-launch--bellums crammed
with British soldiers and with Indians. There were motor-boats near at
hand, pushing their busy way across the Shatt-el-Arab; there were
shallow-draft steamers brought from India, cranky, dilapidated, rusty
vessels, which looked as though they had done long service, and had
arrived at a time when they were fit for the scrap-heap only, or to be
relegated to long and continuous rest. As a matter of fact, many of
these curious craft--long since abandoned as useless by their
owners--had been brought across from India, surviving in a most
extraordinary manner a voyage which might have been expected to smash
them to pieces, and to shake their already quivering sides so severely
that if they had been swamped, if the ocean had poured through many a
crevice, it would have been a wonder to no one. And there they were, at
anchor in the river, their decks packed with men of the navy--men in
duck white or in khaki, grinning fellows, who shouted to their comrades
of the army.
"Cheer oh, navy'll be in first!" they bellowed. "We're in for the
Turkish stakes, and back ourselves to beat the army."
What a scene it was when the expedition set off at length! The lighter
craft finding their way through the marshes, and steering an irregular
course amongst the muddy islets, whilst the vessels drawing deeper water
ploughed their way along the uncertain course of the Euphrates, and
stemmed the gentle flood down which Phil and Geoff had steamed with
their Turkish prisoner. Little tails of open boats trailed at the stern
of every steamer, while not a few, manned by natives, with soldiers
aboard them, were paddled into the marshes farther afield on the
outskirts of this huge inundation. There were other troops wading
knee-deep, all with the one objective--Nasiriyeh and the Turkish camp.
Perhaps never before had such an amazingly curious, amphibious
expedition been undertaken, and it is quite certain that never before
had British and Indian sailors and soldiers enjoyed a thing more hugely.
"A regular sort of mud lark," Phil called out as the launch ran on a
submerged bank of mud, and came to an abrupt halt, causing the bellum
towing nearest to her to collide violently with her stern and capsize
promptly. There were roars of laughter as the men fell into the water
and got to their feet again, dripping, and standing there with the water
hardly higher than their knees, grimacing and shaking themselves like
dogs.
"All overboard!" cried Geoff, who was in command of the launch. "There's
no use in trying to pole her off, for she's hard and fast. Overboard
with you!"
Pulling his long boots off and his breeches higher up his legs, he was
over the side in a twinkling, while the crew, enjoying the experience
amazingly, followed him, Phil helping to set an example.
"Now, all together, boys!" shouted Geoff. "Pull her off! Pull her back!
That's done it; she's moving!"
Not once, but half a dozen times, in the next two or three days, were
they forced to extricate themselves from a similar sort of situation by
similar methods. For, let us explain, there was no opportunity to take
careful account of the obstacles before them, to steer a slow and
cautious course, and to make a complete reconnaissance of the route they
were to follow. Under ordinary conditions, with time at their disposal,
Geoff would have steered his launch at a placid pace, and would have
avoided enclosed waters where islands of mud abounded; but now, with
this expedition, it was a case of each man for himself, of push ahead
all the time. It was a race, in fact, a friendly race, between the army
and the navy, each service vying with the other in its efforts to push
onward, and each secretly determined to get to the goal before the
other.
"If we don't look out we shall be running our heads into a hornets'
nest," Geoff cried irritably, when, for the fifth time at least, he and
his crew had had to leap into the shallow water and pull their vessel
free of a mud-bank. "This sort of headlong course will not help us to
beat the enemy, but will give them an enormous opportunity."
Whereat Phil grinned. He was one of those incautious, careless,
happy-go-lucky sort of subalterns who never think of consequences, and
who, perhaps for that very reason, so seldom come to grief. Perhaps it
was a lucky star which always watched over Phil's progress, for, in any
case, happy-go-lucky though he was, careless to an irritating degree, he
yet had so far come through many a little adventure unscathed.
"Tremendous opportunity--yes!" he told Geoff. "But--but will they take
it? Bet you they're already thinking of bolting; for don't forget, my
boy, we've given them a pretty hard hammering. Besides, an expedition
such as this is, spread out through the marshes, ain't so jolly easy to
tackle. You could stop a portion, perhaps--say one flank, or the portion
in the centre of the ground, or rather the water. What do you
Head-quarters chaps call it? It would be called terrain if it was a
question of land operations, and I don't happen to know the term under
these conditions. But that's what might happen; one portion of our
spread-out front might get stopped, but the others would push on like
blazes! Cheer up, Geoff! It'll all come right, and you'll earn promotion
yet."
It always ended like that with such a fellow as Phil, and Geoff,
cautious and earnest young officer though he was, was forced to laugh
uproariously, and join in Phil's merriment. And, after all, if caution
had been thrown to the winds by all of them--which was far from being
the case--caution on his part would hardly remedy the situation. Pushing
on, therefore, and taking the most out of his steam-launch, thrashing
her across every open strip of water till her bow waves washed almost
aboard, and until the rope to which the bellums were attached was drawn
like a bow-string, and the unfortunate individuals aboard those craft
drenched with spray, he wriggled his way forward with other boats of the
expedition, determined to be well in the van at the coming conflict.
Then, as the dusk fell, and the boats tied up or anchored for the night,
he selected a likely spot towards the edge of the marshes, and dropped
anchor. Entering a bellum, he went off towards one of the bigger craft,
aboard which the Staff conducting this extraordinary expedition were
quartered.
"What's up?" asked Philip on his return, the inevitable question that
young officer fired at his comrade. "Of course, everyone knows that
we're jolly near this Nasiriyeh, so to-morrow there'll be something
doing, eh?"
"Come over here," Geoff said, nodding towards the stern of the vessel.
"Secrets, eh?" grinned Philip, yet wonderfully eager to hear what Geoff
had to say. "Now then, what's the business?"
"A forward move to-morrow, as you might expect, but before that a
reconnaissance."
"A re--con--nais--sance! Jingo! Ain't that a mouthful? Put in simpler
language, a sort of scouting expedition," smiled Philip, sucking
furiously at a cigarette.
"Just that; an expedition by a small party to discover the actual site
of the Turkish camp and to hear what they are saying."
"Oh! And--but you don't mean----George! That would be ripping!"
Geoff cooled his ardour most brutally. "What would be?" he asked curtly
enough--coldly, in fact, knowing full well what would be the result of
such action.
And, indeed, in a moment the hitherto eager and impulsive Phil was
reduced to a condition almost of despair, was grumbling, was far less
elated; and then, in the dim light which still existed, he caught just a
glimpse of Geoff's bantering smile, and gripped him by the shoulder.
"So you're pulling my leg, eh? It--it----There's a job for us to do?
Something special?"
"There is for me. I have orders to make my way forward as quickly as
possible, and learn all that I can of the enemy. Of course, if you
cared----"
"Cared!" Phil almost shouted, though Geoff warned him instantly to
subdue his tone. For let us explain that if, during the first stage of
this expedition, the rush and hurry and scurry of the navy and army had
been accompanied by cheery calls, by shouts and laughter, by whistling
and singing for some hours, now, at least, silence had been enjoined
upon every man in the marshes. Orders were given by signs, men whispered
to one another, while not an unnecessary shout came from the vessels of
the expedition.
"You'll call the enemy down on us," said Geoff severely. "Of course
you'll come. Everyone knows that, I more than anyone. We'll take Esbul
with us to paddle the bellum, and with a little luck and a little care I
think we shall be able to discover something. You see, Phil, we have, as
it were, a better chance than the other fellows, for we've been in these
marshes before, and know quite a heap about them."
Standing aboard the steam-launch, now that darkness had settled down
over the River Euphrates and the stagnant marshes stretched out to the
south of it, one would have found it difficult indeed, on this
particular night, to imagine that there were other inhabitants of this
inundated area. Broken up as the surface of the water was, by
innumerable muddy islands, by heaped-up patches of sand, and by banks of
reeds, it was difficult enough even in the daytime to catch a full view
of any other vessel, and now that the night had fallen and hidden the
ships entirely not one was to be seen, though here and there, in fifty
odd places, perhaps, the ruddy glow of pipes could be seen as the men
smoked tranquilly. A gentle hum rose, too, above the water and the
islets--the hum of voices of men of the expedition, men who talked in
undertones, who giggled and laughed and joked only just above a whisper,
and who, eager for the success of the morrow and for the defeat of the
enemy, implicitly obeyed the orders which had been issued.
Geoff stripped off his service-coat and put his belt round his shoulder,
thus raising his revolver well above the water. Pulling off his long
boots, he donned a pair of tennis shoes--the only change he had from the
heavy pair he wore during the daytime--then, followed by Phil, he
stepped into a bellum, which had been drawn alongside the steam-launch,
and, pushing away from her, at once felt the thrust of Esbul's paddle.
"Directly ahead!" he told the Armenian; "and don't stop unless we are
brought up by a mud-bank, or unless I snap my fingers."
It was uncannily still all round them, once they had got some two
hundred yards from the somewhat irregular position taken up by the
expeditionary vessels, and banks of reeds and columns of mist seemed to
spring up out of the darkness at them, to hover round them, and to
settle right over them in the most ghostly and inexplicable manner. Once
Geoff snapped his fingers with unexpected suddenness, and gripped Phil
by the wrist to enjoin silence upon him.
"Eh?" asked that young officer rather breathlessly a few moments later.
"Thought I saw something," said Geoff.
"So did I. I thought I saw somebody or something half an hour ago. I've
thought it every moment since we left the steam-launch. Bogies, Geoff?"
"Not nerves, I hope!" came the cheerful answer. "But it's rather uncanny
work, ain't it? I could have sworn just now that a fellow stood on the
edge of an island into which we were running, and I snapped my fingers;
but the way of the boat carried us right on to the very point where he
was standing, and right over it. He had gone though."
"Like a nasty nightmare!" said Phil. "Let's go ahead; it's cold and
chilly here, and takes the courage out of a fellow."
It was perhaps an hour later, when they had slowly crept forward towards
the Turkish position, and when they had caught sight of a glow in the
distance--the glow of camp-fires--over the position occupied by the
enemy, that the bellum suddenly came to an abrupt halt, grinding noisily
upon the edge of the desert.
"Hard ground," said Geoff. "Looks as though we'd come to the edge of the
marsh land, and--and--I've thought it for some while, the sky over there
shows the reflection from camp-fires. We're near them, Phil."
"Then let's get nearer. But how are we to find this bellum again,
supposing we leave it?"
That set them cogitating for a few moments while they stepped ashore,
followed by Esbul, and, lifting the bellum clear of the water, carried
her into a bank of reeds which could be heard rustling beside them.
"How to find her, that's it!" said Geoff, while the respectful Esbul
listened.
"My master," he said of a sudden, for thanks to Major Douglas's tuition
the man could speak English tolerably well. "My master, perhaps were we
to return from the Turkish camp before the dawn breaks these reeds would
aid us. There may be other banks; but, on the other hand, there may be
no more, and thus we should be aided."
"In any case we've got to chance it," said Geoff lightly. "Now, come
along, and let's make direct for the glow of those camp-fires."
Stealing away from the place where they had hidden their boat, the three
crept cautiously but swiftly towards the enemy's position, and,
ascending slowly as they went, soon gained a ridge, from which they were
able to look right down into the camp where the Turkish soldiers were
concentrated. Lying flat on their faces, they were busily engaged in
taking full stock of what they saw, when a sudden exclamation came from
Esbul.
"Excellency, something behind us!" he whispered.
"Stop! There's someone coming up from the Turkish camp," muttered
Philip, making a dive for his revolver.
Glancing swiftly in both directions, Geoff was on the point of leading
his comrades to one side, so as to escape the danger of discovery which
seemed to threaten them, when shouts resounded all about them, and in a
trice figures dashed up from every direction, surrounding the three, and
throwing themselves upon Geoff and his friends with a swiftness that was
dramatic.