trenches at Aden, but doubt there being time. Am learning Hindustani. A
number of the same words mean different things. _Kal_ means yesterday
or to-morrow, i.e. one day distant; but on the other hand _parson_
means the day after to-morrow or the day before yesterday. This must
occasionally make muddles about appointments.
_Friday, March 31, 1916._ _Aden._ Got up early this morning and went
over to the Northbrook. The Turks at Lahej are being bombarded. The
Admiral’s going part of the way to see it. Six seaplanes off. A heavy,
hot, grey day. The Turks are fighting well. There is no ill-will here.
They say the Turk is a member of the club, but has not been in it
lately. We are feeding the Turks and they feed us. Caravans come and
go as usual. There are great difficulties in the way of blockade. We
can’t hit our enemies without also hitting our friends, and yet if we
do nothing our prestige suffers.
A conference this morning. Fifty years ago Colonel Pelly said that the
Turks were like the Thirty-nine Articles; every one accepts them, but
nobody remembers them or what they are. India seems extremely apathetic
about Aden. We left early this morning. Last night I saw Colonel Jacob,
who has been twelve years at Aden and in the hinterland. In the evening
I went with the Brigadier to the Turkish prisoners. They said they had
surrendered because life was impossible in the Yemen. They had been six
to seven years without pay, had had bad food and perpetual fighting.
Then they had been put on a ship to go back to their families, then
taken off again and sent to fight us. Human nature could not stand it,
they said. They liked their Commander, Said Pasha, who was good to the
soldiers, but they complained of their non-commissioned officers....
We seem to be perpetually changing our officers here. This C.O. is
the fifth in a short time. Jacob is the only man who talks Arabic,
and there is not a soul who talks Turkish. Wrote to Egypt to get an
interpreter.
_Sunday, April 2, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus.”_ We are steaming through
a grey-black gloom, like an English autumn afternoon, only the
thermometer is 92 and there are no rooks cawing. There are lowering
skies everywhere. Talked about Arabia yesterday with the Admiral.
Have been re-reading Whigan’s _Persia_ and other Gulf books. Wish that
I had George Lloyd’s memoranda. The present position is unsatisfactory.
We have policed and lighted and pacified this Gulf for a hundred years,
and we are entitled to a more definite status. We ought to have Bunder
Abbas. Otherwise, if the Russians come down the Gulf to Bunder Abbas,
they hold the neck of the bottle of the Persian Gulf and we shall be
corked in our own bottle; they would be on the flank of India; they
would be fed by a railway, while our large naval station would be
cooking away in Elphinstone’s Inlet (which is only another name for
a slow process of frying), where we should have battle casualties in
peace-time from the heat. Elphinstone’s Inlet to Bushire is a poor
Wei-hai-wei to a first-rate Port Arthur. Then, if the Russians come
down, any defensive measures which we may be forced into taking
will appear aggressive when the Russians are on the spot. They would
not appear aggressive now. We have a prescriptive right to Bunder
Abbas, which we ought to strengthen. It doesn’t involve territorial
annexations.
_Monday, April 3, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus.”_ Last night I had a long
and rather acrimonious argument with ---- and ---- on the question of
Arab policy. They said: “You must punish the Arabs if they don’t come
in on our side.” I said: “You have no means of punishing them. All you
can do is to antagonize them.”
There is news of a Zeppelin raid on London. Everybody is anxious.
_Tuesday, April 4, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus.”_ _Muskat._ Last night
I had my fourth Hindustani lesson, a very easy one. Jack Marriott is
extraordinarily quick at languages. My teacher said that his affianced
wife is fourteen and that he kept her in a cage at Bushire. Talked with
the Admiral and Captain Burmester....
To-day is a wild day, Arabia crouching, yellow like a lion, in a
sand-storm, and spray and sand flying in layers on the ship. All the
land is lurid and the sea foaming and the sky black. If only there
had been some sharks at sea and lions on shore, it would have been a
perfect picture. This afternoon it cleared and became beautiful. We
passed a desolate coast with no sign of life, where it looked as if a
man would fry in half an hour in summer. A few dhows on the sea were
all we saw. My last journey here came back vividly and the time at
Bahrein after we were wrecked in the _Africa_.
Wireless came into Basrah to say the spring offensive was beginning.
We put into Muskat. I found that the Resident, Colonel Ducat, was a
neighbour. There has been a row at Chahbar, and the _Philomel_, which
we expected to find here, has left, telegraphed for this morning.
The news here is that the tribes intend to attack Muskat, but it’s
not believed. We went ashore this evening, and a Beluchi boy took
the Admiral and all of us round. The people who had not been to the
East before were enchanted by the quiet, the scent of musk, and the
evening behind the Sultan’s Palace. Last time I was here was on
Christmas Day, with Leland Buxton. I was very sick, carrying a huge
bag of Maria Teresa dollars. The Portuguese forts and the names of the
ships that come here, painted in huge white letters on the cliffs, are
the remarkable things about the place. There is a sort of a silent
roll-call of the ships. The men like writing their names up in white
letters. Matrah is round the corner, and looks bigger than Muskat. You
have got to get to it by boat. Muskat itself is completely cut off. I
saw a straight-looking Arab from Asir who had been with the Turks and
had information, and asked the Agent to send him on to Aden.
_Wednesday, April 5, 1916._ _Muskat._ Came ashore early this morning.
Then came the Admiral and his Staff, and we went to the Sultan’s house.
He had about thirty followers. We drank sherbet like scented lip-salve,
and the sailors didn’t like it. The Admiral and the Sultan talked.
Later the Sultan came here with seven A.D.C.’s and a nephew who talked
very good English which he had learned at Harrow. The Sultan has got a
lot of rather nice-looking little horses and a monstrous goat with ears
that are about 3 feet long. The Sultan gets 5 per cent. of the customs
of this place. Jack Marriott went to see a prisoner in the Portuguese
fort. He was Sheikh of a village in which a murder had been committed.
They had failed to catch the murderer, and so the Sheikh had to suffer
imprisonment himself. Not a bad plan, really. It’s the old Anglo-Saxon
idea. That sort of thing discourages men from pushing for power and
makes them very energetic, for their own sakes, when they have power.
Everything seems quiet in the hinterland. The people here are Bunyas,
who cheat the Sultan, slim aristocratic Arabs, and gorilla-like
negroes. They are mostly armed to the teeth. Sheets of rain fell this
afternoon.
_Thursday, April 6, 1916._ _Persian Gulf._ We left early this morning.
Some very fine king-fish were brought aboard, about 4 feet long. Great
heat. We had an excellent telegram about Gorringe’s offensive in
Mesopotamia; the Turks driven back. The Admiral in great spirits. I
am tremendously glad, because I have always felt that we were coming
to a tragedy. I remember the telegram read out to us at Anzac and the
cheers--“The Turks are beaten! The way lies open to Bagdad!”--and our
enthusiasm and the disappointment after it, and I did not think this
would succeed. Hanna, on the left bank of the Tigris, is reported
taken. That ought to open Sinn on the right bank.
_Friday, April 7, 1916._ _Persian Gulf._... To-day we were told by
wireless telegram that we had a slave of the Sultan’s on board. Quite
true; so we have.... He said he had been with the Sultan eight years
and that if he were sent back he feared for his throat. He drew his
finger across it very tenderly, and everybody roared with laughter. I
do not see that the Sultan has a leg to stand on. If the man went to
him eight years ago, he went either of his own free will, in which case
he can leave, or he was sold, and we do not recognize anything except
bondage, no traffic in slavery.
The _Philomel’s_ prisoners have been transferred to us. One of them
looks like an old nobleman. His name is Shah Dulla. He held up Chahbar
for 4,000 rupees, like other old noblemen, and was captured with seven
bearded patriarchs by the _Philomel_ four days ago. They are dignified
people.
_Friday, April 8, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Euryalus.”_ _Bushire._ A very cold
morning with a clear sky. It’s a nuisance having lost all my coats.
Here I leave Edward. I hope he will be all right. He is to follow by
the first opportunity with the other servants and my kit. McKay, who
is a jolly fellow, will look after him. The news this morning is that
we have again improved our position and have taken the second Turkish
line. The Russians are advancing. There was a fight here a couple of
nights ago. Our Agent, his brother and four sepoys were killed last
night at Lingah.
_Sunday, April 9, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Imogene.”_ _Shat-el-Arab._ Yesterday
Commodore Wake came aboard.... He said that an officer had put land
mines down, and that some time after this officer had been recalled.
People in Bushire naturally wanted him either to remove or to mark
his land mines, but he said that they were all right, as they were
only exploded by electricity. The following night, however, there were
loud explosions when dogs gambolled over these mines, so people still
walk like Agag, and walking is not a popular form of exercise round
Bushire. To-day we are in a brown waste of waters that I remember well,
a dismal hinterland to a future Egypt. We passed a hospital ship early
this morning, in these yellow shallow waters. It reminded me of the
Dardanelles, but there it was much better, for there the sea and sky
were beautiful and the climate, by comparison, excellent.
Ages ago, in Egypt, Machel used to talk of ghosts. This ship conjures
them up all right--trips with Sir Nicholas and the children to the
island and many other people, some of them still in Constantinople.
Sir Nicholas would have been surprised if he could have seen the name
of his yacht written on the rocks at Muskat, and, as the Admiral said,
he would not have liked any one else in command of his yacht, here or
in any other waters. Townshend has telegraphed some time ago to say he
could only hold out until April 1st. Here we are at the 9th.
_Sunday, April 10, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Imogene.”_ _Kurna._ Yesterday we
arrived at Basra. It looked very beautiful and green, but we only had
a short time. Everything seemed in a state of great confusion. Two
Generals came aboard. They said we had taken two out of three lines of
the trenches that we had got to take in the first attack. Then our men
had been checked. We ought to have taken the third line last night.
The Sinn position still remains to be taken. If we had been successful
last night (and we ought to have heard this morning), we have got a
chance of relieving Townshend. If not, I am afraid there is not much
chance.... The doctors are being pretty hotly criticized, also the
Royal Indian Marine, though how they can be expected to know this river
I can’t see. Apparently they asked for iron barges from India and were
given wooden barges that the banks and the current continually break.
They asked here for one type of river-craft from home, and were told
they must have another. Lynch out here says that Lynch in London has
never been consulted, though they deny this at home. The troops have
only two days’ supplies. The soldiers in Basra were cheerful; the
wounded also, for the first time, were cheerful, because they thought
it had been worth it and that we are going to succeed....
There is a great storm getting up. The river’s a vast rolling flood
of yellow water, palm-trees beyond and again beyond that, marshes and
glimpses of a skeleton land, with marsh Arabs always in the background,
like ghouls, swarming on every battlefield, killing and robbing the
wounded on both sides. The Turks, they say in Basra, had said: “Let
us both have a truce and go for the Arabs and then we can turn to and
fight again.” Nureddin, the Turkish Commander-in-Chief, is supposed to
have been at Harrow with Townshend. I should think that it was really
a _pension_ at Lausanne. I saw P. Z. Cox yesterday. He and Lady Cox
were very good to me years ago in the Gulf.... The Russians have not
yet met any considerable Turkish force. If we do not relieve Townshend,
and have to fall back, we shall be attacked by all the Arabs, who are
well armed. They say a Royal Commission is being sent to India because
at home they anticipate a failure here and want a scapegoat, which they
have already provided in Nixon.
I dined with Gertrude Bell, Millborrow, whom I had last seen at
Bahrein, and Wilson, whom I had known before. We transferred here at
Kurna from the _Imogene_ on to a tiny Admiralty gunboat, as usual
leaving all our kit. Dick Bevan says that he has a vision of perpetual
landings and expeditions until we arrive in China, with always the
same troubles, too few mules, too many A.P.M.’s, etc. This is a war
threshold to conjure up dreams and visions. It would be hard to find
one more tragic. It’s a curious fate that sends us a second time,
unprepared, to one of the richest countries in the world that, like
Egypt, has combined fertility and desert, with a stream controlling its
future.
_Tuesday, April 11, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Snakefly.”_ Monday night we got
off the _Imogene_ on to the _Snakefly_, one of the twelve Admiralty
gunboats built for this expedition. The Admiralty don’t seem able to
stop building them, now they’ve started. They were sent out here in
pieces, then put together. One has been taken by the Turks.[24] The
_Snakefly_ draws 2 feet 9 inches only. Webster is her captain. We
slept on deck all right. We saw practically no traffic at first on the
river, and could not understand why we did not pass boats coming back
empty for supplies. We passed many Indian troops, mainly on the left
bank of the river; also isolated stations with telegraph-masters as
chiefs. These men go out two or four miles into the desert with only
a couple of rifles. These small posts contain the maximum of boredom
and anxiety, because there is nothing to do, and if any force of Arabs
came along they would be done in. An enterprising Indian sentry fired
at us in the night. We passed dour, scowling Arabs in villages and
groups on the bank with flocks and herds, buffaloes and goats, men more
savage than the Philistines, but armed with rifles. An almost endless
column of our cavalry wound its way through marsh and desert, over the
green grass, and here and there fires sent up their smoke where meals
were cooked. It struck me as more curious than the Australians round
the Pyramids. At 6 p.m. we reached Ali Gharbi. I talked to an officer
of the --th Punjabis. They were all very depressed at the failure of
Aylmer’s attack on the 8th March.... Townshend was the man they swore
by. The 4th Devons, where John Kennaway is, are said to be at the
front. There are flies that bite like bulldogs everywhere. Each night
we have had lightning over towards Kut like a sort of malignant and
fantastic Star of Bethlehem to light us on.
_Wednesday, April 12, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Snakefly.”_ Last night the
weather broke. The Admiral’s got a cabin about 6 feet long by 2-1/2
across. He put his head out of the window and said: “Would any of you
fellows like to come in?” It was a beastly night. Our clothes are the
thinnest tropical khaki, and they tear like a woman’s veil. There was
no shelter. I got into a conning-tower, like a telescope, but finally
walked about. There seemed to be people’s faces everywhere on deck,
though there was a lot of water. I kept my dictionary dry. Now it’s
fine and bright. At seven this morning, when I had gone below, a Boy
Scout of eighteen, one of the crew, went overboard. He was rescued
almost at once, and swam lightly and gallantly. He was lucky. To-day is
the 12th, my lucky day, but I have only got one extra shirt and one
blanket, and a Turkish dictionary for a pillow....
Everything seems greater and greater chaos.... We started this campaign
against one of the great military Powers of the world with two brigades
of Indians, who ought not to have been used at all, if it could have
been avoided, on this ground, which to them is holy. We started with
the wrong type of boat, and also Indian Generals who looked on the
expedition as a frontier campaign.... If we fail to relieve Townshend,
I suppose the best thing to do would be to cut our losses and retire
to Kurna and hold that line, but if we do that the Turks can fortify
the river and make it impregnable. We ran on to the bank last night,
and stayed there. We spent an uncomfortable wet night, but got off all
right this morning. There was an encampment close by. We couldn’t make
out if they were friends or enemies; the Admiral didn’t bother. We all
want a clean pair of socks and fewer mosquitoes.
_Thursday, April 13, 1916._ _Near Sanayat._ It was at noon yesterday
that we arrived at Ali Gharbi. The Admiral saw General Lake. We are
cruelly handicapped by lacking transport and not being able to get
it. In the afternoon I crossed the river and saw General Gilman at
Felahiya. I was very glad to see him again. He had been on our left
with the 13th Division at Anafarta. One of the best men I have met. We
had a long talk.... Then I came back with Dick Bevan. What’s happened
is this: we got in such a state about Townshend being able to hold out
till the end of January that we rushed up troops and attacked without
the possibility of making preparation for the wounded, ambulances,
etc., and we failed.... Townshend has got 5,000 Arabs with him, and
the _bouches inutiles_ have told enormously, but T. has apparently
promised these people his protection and nothing will make him send
them away, and he’s right. The strain on the men with him has been
very great indeed; some of the older men are very sick. No one thinks
that he’s got a dog’s chance of getting out. The --th were badly cut
up at Anafarta, but they kept their keenness, and at the beginning
of this show their officers could not keep them back, _on the 8th of
March_. The fight on the 9th of April was very bad luck. All the men
were very cold and tired. A hot cup of coffee might have made the
whole difference.... We shall have to face a lot of trouble with the
Arabs and look out for Nasryah, which could be cut off by marsh Arabs
from Basra way and turned into another Kut. Most people think that the
line that we ought to defend is Nasryah--Amara--Ahwaz. The Admiral’s
going to Nasryah. I suggested his taking General Gillman, and he is
off too. Every one is raging against the economy of India, especially
a man called Meyer, the Treasury member for the Council of India. He
is said to have refused to give any help. In this flat land they need
observation balloons; none forthcoming. They asked for transport from
May to Christmas, and then got one launch....
I saw the Admiral in the evening. He was cheered after talking to
General Gorringe. We walked by the river. We met some of the Black
Watch--clean, smart men. There was a great bridge of boats, without
rails, swaying and tossing in the hurricane and covered with driven
foam from the raging yellow water. Across this there lurched Madrassis,
Sudanese, terrified cavalry horses, mules that seemed to think that
there was only water on one side, and that they would be on dry land
if they jumped off on the other. We are out of range, but shelling
is going on and one can fix points in the landscape by bursts. The
eternal flatness is depressing. This morning I saw Leachman, the
political officer. He has had a lot of adventures in Arabia--a very
good fellow, whom everybody likes, which is rare.... He was against
our going farther back than Sheikh Saad, both from the point of view
of strategy and also because it would be playing a low game on our own
friendlies. The Arabs on the bank between Sheikh Saad and Ali Gharbi
are, apparently, past praying for.
This afternoon I went out with the Admiral.... Townshend has been
telegraphing to-day. His men are dying of starvation. The whole
situation is pitiful. Here the troops have been on half rations for
some time. Our boats are many, but insufficient. They are of every
kind, from an Irawaddy steamer to the steamers of the Gordon Relief
Expedition and L.C.C. boats. We met some of the 6th Devons, and I asked
them if the way the Admiral was going was safe. They said: “We be
strangers here zur,” as if they were Exeter men in Taunton.... The rain
is making the relief practically impossible. Last night there was heavy
firing and we advanced 2,000 yards, but the main positions are still
untaken. To-night I met Percy Herbert, very useful, as my tropical
khaki is coming to pieces.
_Friday, April 14, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Stonefly.”_ ... A furious wind got
up and drove mountains of yellow water before it, against the stream.
The skies were black. Captain Nunn, the Senior Naval Officer, wanted
to go to Sheikh Saad. I wanted to go to H.Q. to see Colonel Beach,
Chief of the Intelligence, who has written to me to come. We got off
with difficulty into the stream. It was like a monstrous snake, heaving
and coiling. We only drew 3 feet and we were very top-heavy with iron,
and I thought we were bound to turn over. I said so to Singleton, the
captain, who said: “I quite agree. It serves them d----d well right
if we do, for sending us out in this weather.” This thought pleased
him, though it did not satisfy me. Nunn said it was the worst weather
he had seen in the year. I got off at Wadi thankfully, and went to
see Beach, but it was not all over yet. He wanted to go and see how
the bridge of boats was standing the strain. The end of the bridge
of boats had been removed to let the steamers through, though there
were none passing. It was twisting like an eel trying to get free,
and going up and down like a moving staircase in agony. There was
foam and gloom and strain and fury and the screaming of the timber,
but the bridge held. The engineers were calmly smoking their pipes
at the end, wondering in a detached way if it would hold. I prefer
fighting any day to this sort of thing. Then I went walking with
Beach. He asked me to be ready in case Townshend wanted me. I dined
with General Lake, General Money, Williams and Dent; capital fellows.
Had an interesting time after dinner. The future is doubtful. If we
have to retire, we shall have a double loss of prestige, Kut gone and
our own retreat. When we want to advance later, we shall find all our
present positions fortified against us. A retreat will also involve
the abandonment of our friendlies. This campaign has taught me why we
have been called _perfide Albion_. It’s very simple. We embark upon a
campaign without any forethought at all. Then, naturally we get into
extreme difficulties. After that, we talk to the natives, telling them
quite truthfully that we have got magnificent principles of truth,
justice, tolerance, etc., that where the British Raj is all creeds are
free. They like these principles so much that they forget to count
our guns. Then, principles or no principles, we have got to retreat
before a vastly superior force, and the people who have come in with us
get strafed. Then they all say “_perfide Albion_,” though it’s really
nobody’s fault--sometimes not even the fault of the Government.
I slept on the _Malamir_, on deck. It was very wet in the night, but I
kept fairly dry.
_Saturday, April 15, 1916._ “_Malamir._” I went and saw the Turkish
prisoners in one of the most desolate camps on earth; some Albanians
amongst them. They said there were munition factories in Bagdad,
that 4,000 Turks had gone to Persia--they did not know if it was to
the oil-field at Basra or against the Russians. It’s Basra and the
oil-field that are important to us.