They were horrible in themselves, and made more horrible by our
circumstances and their habits. They lived upon the dead, between the
trenches, and came bloated from their meal to fasten on the living. One
day I killed a fly on my leg that made a splash of blood that half a
crown would not have covered.
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Monday, September 27, 1915._ _No. 2 Outpost._ Last night F.
dined. He said that the Indians could get back from Mudros if they
gave the hospital orderly ten rupees. The hospital orderly would then
certify them as having dysentery. Most of them did not want to go back,
some did. When they were reluctant about fighting, he thought it was
due to the fact that it was Moslems they were against.
This morning the General and I went round Colonel Anthill’s trenches.
Billy H. was there, as independent and casual as ever. He came out here
as a sergeant and is now Acting Brigade Major. I am giving him a shirt.
* * * * *
Billy H. was not the only member of his family who was independent.
His father, a well-known Australian doctor, on one occasion gave one
of the chiefs of the British R.A.M.C. his sincere opinion about the
treatment of the sick and wounded. After a while the chief of the
R.A.M.C. said: “You don’t seem to understand that it is I who am
responsible for these things.” “Oh yes, I do,” said the Australian
doctor, “but it’s not you I’m getting at; it’s the fool who put you
there.”
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Thursday, September 28, 1915._ _No. 2 Outpost._ Last night
I dined with S. B. and H. Woods. Walked back through a still, moonlit
night, with the sea and the air just breathing. Very bright stars. We
sent up flares. The General was ill this morning, so did not go out.
The Greek interpreters have been called up for mobilization. This
Greek mobilization ought to do some good about the German submarines.
Last night at Anzac they had iron needles dropped from aeroplanes.
I always objected to this. This morning over our heads there was a
Taube firing hard at something with a machine-gun. It produces an
unpleasant impression, I suppose because it is unfamiliar, to hear
the noise straight above one. Two bombs were dropped--at least, I
suppose they were. They fell with a progressive whistle, but not close
to us; another big one, however, an 8-inch one, I believe, from the
Dardanelles, fell with a tired and sensuous thud just over the ridge.
_Wednesday, September 29, 1915._ _No. 2 Outpost._ The General went out
at nine this morning, P. and I with him. He went to the Apex and round.
In the evening Kettle and I talked in the fort.
_Friday, October 1, 1915._ _No. 2 Outpost._ Yesterday morning General
Godley, General Birdwood, de Crespigny and I went round the trenches,
Apex, Anthill’s, etc., from 9.30 until 3. A very hot day; I wish that
Generals were a hungrier, thirstier race. We had some light shelling,
into which the Generals walked without winking or reason, though they
made us take intervals.
G. L. has gone home. Ross turned up last night; glad to see him again.
He said that a statement was to be made almost at once, and that we
weren’t going to be here for the winter. He had a notion that the
Italians were going to take our place....
This morning there was a very heavy mist; the hills and the sea were
curtained in it. My clothes were wringing wet. The Greek interpreters
have been called up by the Greek mobilization and have gone to Imbros,
some of them to try to avoid going. They have, says Christo, “kria
kardia” (cold feet.) Xenophon, in a moment of enthusiasm, changed
Turkish for Greek nationality. He now speaks of the days of his Ottoman
nationality with a solemn and mournful affection, as of a golden age.
He envies his cousin, Pericles, who was not so carried away. Kyriakidis
is too old to go, thank goodness.
Going into Anzac with the General, and glad to be quit of the trenches.
It’s a weary business walking through these narrow mountain trenches,
hearing the perpetual iteration of the same commands. The trenches are
curiously personal. Some are so tidy as to be almost red-tape--the
names of the streets, notices, etc., everywhere--and others slums.
(_Later._) I went into Anzac with the General to see General Birdwood,
but he had gone out to see the bombardment from the sea. The General
went off to the New Zealand hospital ship, _Mahino_. I went to get P.
off, who was ill. The General and I had a very philosophical talk
coming back. There was a radiance over Anzac; the sunken timbership
shone against the sunset, with the crew half of them naked. Shells
screamed over us, and in the Headquarters hollow parts of them came
whimpering down.
_Saturday, October 2, 1915._ _No. 2 Outpost._ This morning General
Godley, Colonel Artillery Johnson and I went round to see the guns,
all across the Anafarta plain. Yesterday they had been shelling a good
deal and had killed some Gurkhas.... We trudged about in the open,
the Turkish hills in a semicircle round us. We kept about fifty yards
apart.... I thought it very risky for the General; however, nothing
happened. Have been meeting various school acquaintances these days....
_Sunday, October 3, 1915._ The General and Charlie B. went to Suvla.
I lunched with S. B. and H. Woods. We played chess. A good deal of
shelling. A fair number hit....
_Monday, October 4, 1915._ Changed my dugout this morning with
an infinity of trouble, I didn’t like doing it; it involved men
standing on the roof, and if one of them had been hit I should
have felt responsible. However, we did it all right. I stole some
corrugated iron, and am well off. This morning the Turks had a fierce
demonstration. The bullets kicked up the dust at the mouth of the
gully. Colonel Artillery Johnson just missed being hit, but only
one man struck. They shelled us with big stuff that came over tired
and groaning, bursting with a beastly noise and torrents of smoke.
General C. lunched. He said people sent curiously inappropriate stores
sometimes. In the middle of the summer they had sent us here mufflers
and cardigan jackets, and two thousand swagger canes. These were now
at Mudros. Chauvel has taken over command while the General is sick. He
borrowed all my novels.
_Tuesday, October 5, 1915._ General C.O. turned up. He said we are
going to attack through Macedonia. Heaven help us! Bulgaria has been
given twenty-four hours’ ultimatum by Russia.
Went into Anzac, to go by boat to Suvla. Met C., who was at W---- (my
private school). He said there was no boat. I went on and played chess,
coming back through one of the most beautiful evenings we have had, the
sea a lake of gold and the sky a lake of fire; but C. and I agreed we
would not go back to Anzac or to W----, if we could help it.
_Wednesday, October 6, 1915._ I was going into Suvla with Hastings, but
in the morning a Turkish deserter, Ahmed Ali, came in. He promised to
show us two machine-guns, which he did (one German, immovable, and the
other Turkish, movable), and seven guns which he had collected; this
he failed to do, and also to produce three more comrades by firing a
Turkish rifle as a signal.
In the afternoon I had a signal from S. B. to say he was leaving, sick,
for Egypt. I walked in to see, and found he had gastritis....
_Thursday, October 7, 1915._ _N.Z. and A. H.Q._ This morning we went up
with Ahmed Ali, and lay waiting for the Turkish deserters until after
six. One Turkish rifle shot, a thicker sound than ours, was fired at
Kidd’s Post, but no Turks came. Ahmed Ali was distressed. The dawn was
fine; clouds of fire all over the sky.
The Turkish deserters and prisoners were put through a number of
inquisitions. There was first of all the local officer, who had
captured the Turk and was creditably anxious to anticipate the
discoveries of the Intelligence. Then there was G.H.Q., intensely
jealous of its privileges, and then Divisional H.Q., waiting rather
sourly for the final examination of the exhausted Turks.
The Turkish private soldiers, being Moslems, were inspired rather with
the theocratic ideals of comradeship than by the _esprit de corps_
of nationality, and spoke freely. They were always well treated, and
this probably loosened their tongues, but Ahmed Ali was more voluble
than the majority of his comrades, and I append information which he
supplied as an illustration of our examinations and their results. The
two sides of Turkish character were very difficult to reconcile. On the
one hand, we were faced in the trenches by the stubborn and courageous
Anatolian peasant, who fought to the last gasp; on the other hand, in
our dugouts we had a friendly prisoner, who would overwhelm us with
information. “The fact is you are just a bit above our trenches. If
only you can get your fire rather lower, you will be right into them,
and here exactly is the dugout of our Captain, Riza Kiazim Bey, a poor,
good man. You miss him all the time. If you will take the line of that
pine-tree, you will get him.”
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Saturday, October 9, 1915._ _A. and N.Z. H.Q._ Ahmed Ali
proposed coming to England with me when I went there.... Last night we
had bad weather; a sort of whirlwind came down. It whizzed away the
iron sheeting over my dugout and poured in a cascade of water, soaking
everything. Iron sheeting was flying about like razors; it was not
possible to light candles. Finally, Ryrie came and lent me a torch, and
I slept, wet but comfortable, under my cloak. Our people and the Turks
both got excited, and heavy rifle fire broke out, as loud as the storm.
An angry dawn, very windy and rifles crackling.
* * * * *
At this point the diary ends, for the writer was evacuated on the
hospital ship, and did not return to Active Service for several months.
Of all those who had sailed from Egypt with General Godley on April
12th, the General himself remained the only man who saw the campaign
through from the first to the last day, with the rare exception of a
few days of sickness.
KUT
1916
[Illustration: _SIFTON, PRAED & CO LTD. ST JAMES’ ST. LONDON S.W._]
KUT, 1916
After some months of convalescence, I was passed fit for Active
Service. Admiral Wemyss, Commander-in-Chief of the East Indian Fleet,
had done me the honour to ask me to serve under him, when I was well
again, as his liaison and Intelligence officer. I accepted very gladly,
for I knew how devoted to him were all those who served Admiral Wemyss.
The unappreciative War Office showed no reluctance in dispensing with
my services, but my orders got lost, and it was only late in February
when I left. When my weak qualifications in the way of languages were
put before the Department concerned, the brief comment was: “This must
be an immoral man to know so many languages.”
About this time the question was perpetually debated as to whether war
should be made mainly on the one great front or _en petits paquets_;
that is, practically all over the globe. “Hit your enemy where he is
weakest,” said some, while others were violently in favour of striking
where he was strongest.
When I left England, she was in a curious state of official indecision.
It would then have been, obviously, greatly to our advantage had we
been able to get the Turks out of the war, for the collapse of Bulgaria
would almost certainly have followed. On the other hand, Russia had
been promised Constantinople and the Church of Santa Sophia, and while
these promises held it was idle to think that the Grand Turk would
compromise or resign his position as head of Islam. So the dread in
the minds of Englishmen of friction with Russia was unconsciously
adding square leagues to the British Empire, by forcing us reluctantly
to attack an unwilling foe. In the end, we chose both Scylla and
Charybdis, for the Turks remained in the war, Russia went out. Yet we
survived, victoriously. Allah is greatest.
The story of this campaign is the most difficult to tell. The writer
was in a humble position, but in a position of trust, and can only
record what he saw and the things with which all men’s ears were too
familiar in Mesopotamia.
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Monday, February 28, 1916._ _S.S. “Mooltan.”_ _Off
Marseilles._ The Germans are by way of not torpedoing our boats
until Wednesday, but to-day is St. Leander’s Day, not a good day, on
the sea, at this time of year. They have torpedoed four boats these
last days near Marseilles. We are off the coast of Corsica, dull and
unattractive.... John Baird is here....
_Wednesday, March 1, 1916._ _SS. “Mooltan.”_ Yesterday J. B., Captain
Cummings and I went ashore at Malta. We heard of the torpedoing of
the _Maloja_ off Dover. I saw Admiral Limpus, an old friend; then
dined with Admiral de Robeck. I saw R. K. He still wants to go up the
Dardanelles. This seems to me to be a war of ants and attrition, and
no one ought to think of the glory of the Army or the Navy before
winning the war. I do not think he cares if he is at the bottom of the
sea, as long as the country and the Navy is covered with imperishable
splendour. He talked about the blizzard as if it had been a zephyr.
You can’t beat that sort. A lot of old Admirals rolled up. They had
rejoined long past the age as Commanders of Sweepers, or in any and
every kind of capacity. The spirit of their Elizabethan ancestors was
not more tough or fine than theirs.... Left J. B. and Jack Marriott.
_Monday, March 6, 1916._ _Ismailia._ We landed without incident from
the _Mooltan_. The last day, at luncheon, there were two tremendously
loud bangs, the lids of hatches falling; they sounded exactly like
cannon shot. Nobody moved at lunch, which I thought was good. Am
staying with O’Sullivan. He has been eighteen years in Central Africa.
To-night I went to the Club and found Kettle, alive, whom I thought
dead--very glad to find it wasn’t true--and lots of Anzacs. Then went
for a walk with the Admiral; I understand why men like serving him.
Afterwards tea with General Birdwood and a yarn about the Peninsula.
All the men from Anzac talk of it with something like reverence. I
dined with General Godley. I have been doing work between the Navy and
the Army; found them very stiff. Yesterday they said: “What can you
want to know?” Also, in my humble opinion, what they are doing is wrong.
_Friday, March 10, 1916._ _Cairo._ Back again at Zamalek. They have
sown a proper, green, English lawn instead of the clover which we
put in for economy. Saw C. in the evening. Agreed that for the time
being our Arab policy was finished.... If the Russians go ahead and
threaten Constantinople, the French agreement may stand. If, on
the other hand, they cannot get beyond Trebizond, then Arabia will
probably be a Confederation, perhaps nominally under the Turks. The
Powers would probably look favourably at this, as it would be a return
to the bad old principle. It would constitute one more extension of
the life of the Turk, outside Turkey, made miserable to him and his
subjects, during which all his legatees would intrigue to improve
their own position. They would go on fermenting discontent amongst the
subjects of the Turk, and when it did not exist they would create it.
It is the old cynicism that this war has done nothing to get rid of.
On the other hand, if annexation follows there will be two results:
(1) The population in the annexed French and Russian spheres will be
rigorously conscripted. I think we ought to do our best to prevent the
Arabs being the subjects and victims of High Explosive Powers. They
themselves don’t realize what it means, and simply look forward to the
boredom of having to beat their swords into ploughshares and take up
the dullness of civilization. The second result is that we shall have
vast, conterminous frontiers with France and Russia, and that we shall
be compelled to become a huge military power and adopt the Prussianism
that we are fighting. There ought to be a self-denying ordinance about
annexation. We should none of us annex.
_Wednesday, March 8, 1916._ _Cairo._ I arranged for Storrs to come
down the Red Sea with the Commander-in-Chief. In the evening I saw
the Sultan at the Palace. He prophesied that the Russians would be in
Trebizond in eight days, and that we should be in Solloum in the same
time; he put our arrival at Bagdad at the end of May. The snows were
melting, he said, and the waters of the Tigris and Euphrates rising;
the Turks might be cut off, and might have to surrender.... He said we
did not understand the Moslems or what was their fraternity. In his
hall he had two signs, “God and His Prophet,” and the other, “I live
by God’s will!” Any Moslem who entered saw these, and knew him for
his brother. He would rather have been a farmer, dressed as a farmer,
and, he added, rather quaintly, sitting in his automobile, amongst his
fields, than in his Palace with interviews before him all day long.
He had accepted the Throne when it had been offered to him after
consideration, because the good of Egypt was bound up in our success,
and as Sultan he could help us. He regretted he had not been allowed
to help more. He was loyal, but neither we, nor any man, could buy
his honour. We could throw him over at any moment. So be it; he knew
what his honour and individual dignity demanded. General Maxwell, he
said, understood the Moslems. Even the Duke of Connaught could hardly
have done better in Egypt. He, the Sultan, had deplored Gallipoli,
both before and after. We English were _bons enfants_, but did not
understand the East. He gave many messages to his friends, especially
General Birdwood.
_Thursday, March 9, 1916._ _Cairo._ Saw Jaafar Pasha, a prisoner.
He was wounded by a sword-thrust in the arm. They had had a good
old-fashioned mêlée. He was just off shopping, taking his captivity
with great philosophy. It was beautiful weather. The Bougainvillea was
purple and scarlet all over the house. It looked as fairylike as a
Japanese dwelling.
_Friday, March 10, 1916._ _Cairo._ The Admiral came up on Thursday
night. I lunched with General Maxwell. Bron came. He said his leg
troubled him flying, but he loved it. I saw his Colonel, who told me
that he was worried, as if he fell in the desert he was done, as he
could not walk great distances like the others, with his wooden leg.
I have got a “Who’s Who,” for Arabia, but I want a “Where’s Where.”
_Saturday, March 11, 1916._ _Ismailia._ The Australians have
been having high old times in Cairo. We have to pay for their
extraordinarily fine fighting qualities, but it’s a pity that they
can’t be more quiet.... They admire General Birdwood, who’s got a
difficult job. We owed a lot to their initiative at Anzac, when all
their officers were killed. Salutes, after all, matter less than
fighting. In peace they resent General Godley’s discipline, and that’s
natural, but it’s inevitable, and they know it, when it comes to
fighting. Charlie Bentinck came down with us, going home; I hope he
gets there all right.
_Tuesday, March 14, 1916._ _Ismailia._ Maxwell is now definitely
recalled.... It’s a pity to take away the man whose name is everything
in Egypt. On Saturday I dined with the Admiral and Potts of the
Khedive’s yacht. Like Jimmy Watson, he was very fond of his ex-Chief.
Sunday I lunched with the Admiral and General Murray, and saw my old
friend Tyrrell. Yesterday the Admiral left with Philip Neville for
Solloum. I should have liked to have been in that show.
Here are criticisms and indescretions, which are better left lying at
the bottom of a drawer....
* * * * *
All are very sad about Desmond Fitzgerald’s death. There was no
one quite like him. He would have played a great part. He was
extraordinarily fine, too fine to be a type, though he was a type, but
not of these times. I shall never forget him during the Retreat, always
calm and always cheerful. Bron came, and we had a long talk.
_Wednesday, March 15, 1916._ _Cairo._ This morning I saw Jaafar Pasha
for a minute. He is becoming less and less a prisoner. Was off to shop,
and said that he heard that Cairo was a nice town. He was unmoved by
the war. I said to M. that the war ought to prevent one’s pulses ever
fluttering again. M. said to me: “Yes, unless it makes them flutter for
ever.”
* * * * *
Here there followed naval, strategical, political and commercial
considerations which are irrelevant to this published diary.
* * * * *
_Diary._ _March 15, 1916._ Went to the citadel to see the old Sheikh.
It was a lovely day of heat, fresh winds, clear air and flowers
everywhere.
_Wednesday, March 22, 1916._ _Ismailia._ I have neglected my diary.
Yesterday I went and said good-bye to General Birdwood. General Godley,
he and everybody went to see Maxwell off. It was a very remarkable
demonstration; all were there--red hats and tarbouches, blue gowns and
the khaki of the private soldier. We were all downhearted at his going.
To-day I rode with Temperley through the groves of Ismailia, out by
the lagoon. The desert was in splendid form. The Australians were
bathing everywhere and French sailors were paddling. I lunched with
General Russell.... I dined with General Godley. All the talk was of
Mesopotamia. Some one said at dinner that no securely beleaguered force
had ever cut its way out. I could only think of Xenophon, who, General
Gwynne said, quite truly, was not beleaguered, and also of Plevna, that
didn’t get out.
_Sunday, March 26, 1916._ _Cairo._ This morning we leave for
Mesopotamia, by the Viceroy’s train. He arrived yesterday, having
been shot at by a torpedo on the way. The soldiers are becoming
discontented. Their pay is four months due, and when they get it they
are paid in threepenny bits for which they only receive twopence in
exchange. Hence their irritation. Tommy Howard’s brigade has nearly all
got commissions. There are now forty-seven officers and only enough
soldiers left for their servants. Saw Uncle Bob G., who reminded me of
Sayid Talib, the Lion of Mesopotamia and the terror of the Turks, with
whom on one occasion I travelled from Constantinople. Sayid Talib once
wanted to get rid of a very good Vali of Basrah. He went round to all
the keepers of hashish dens and infamous houses and got them to draw up
a petition: “We, the undersigned, hear with anguish that our beloved
Vali is to be removed by the Merciful Government. He is a good man, has
been just to all, and most just to us, who now implore the mercy of the
Sublime Porte.” Constantinople was in a virtuous mood. The experts of
Basrah were summoned. They expressed their horror at the support which
the Vali was receiving from all the worst elements in the town. The
Vali was removed. Sayid Talib scored. He was on our side, and remained
in Basrah, but we made him a prisoner and sent him to India, I believe.
_Monday, March 27, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus._” _Gulf of Suez._
Yesterday, Sunday, the Prince of Wales, the Viceroy, General Birdwood
and the High Commissioner travelled down to Ismailia. Storrs and I were
also of the company. General Godley was at the station to meet the
Prince, and a lot of others.
_Tuesday, March 28, 1916._ _H.M.S._ “_Euryalus.”_ I wonder what
situation we shall find in Mesopotamia. Willcocks in Cairo said that
the Arabs were feeding Townshend’s people. “In the old days,” he said,
“Elijah was fed by the ravens--that is, ’orab,’ which means Arabs as
well as ravens.” That was how he explained that miracle.
It’s getting very hot. I am working at Hindustani. The Staff here are
all first class. It’s luck to find Colonel de Sausmarez, who was on the
_Bacchante_, now promoted.
_Thursday, March 30, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus.”_ Took a bad fall
down the ladder. Storrs sleeps in a casemate. The only ventilation
is through a gun whose breech has now been closed. Have been writing
précis and political notes. We are bound to make mistakes in dealing
with the Arabs, but they need not matter if they are passive mistakes;
they can be corrected. If they are active, they are much harder to
remedy.... Our people divide the world into two categories. The
Ulstermen, the Serbs and the Portuguese are good, loyal people, because
they are supposed to put our interests first, whereas the Bulgars,
the Arabs, etc., are beastly traitors because sometimes a thought of
self-interest crosses their minds.