on an Irawaddy steamer, a “P” boat. The Captain told appalling stories
of the wounded on board after Ctesiphon. It took them seventeen days
to Amara, which sounds incredible. They had to turn back three times
at Wadi and return to Kut, because they were heavily attacked at Wadi
by Kurds. General Nixon had to turn back too. The transport was so
overcrowded that men were pushed overboard. I met an Indian political
officer on board ... (and again).... He said one thing to me that was
not indiscreet. Once at Abazai he had seen a Pathan wrestling. Before
he wrestled he held up his hands, and cried an invocation: “Dynamis”
(Might). He thought it must have come from the days of Alexander.
He had been in the Dujaila fight on March 8th, and talked about it,
unhappily. He also said that the corruption of the Babus at Basra was
awful.
On board our ship there were piles of bread without any covering, but a
swarming deposit of flies; good for everybody’s stomach.
_Sunday, April 16, 1916._ Half a day’s food is being dropped daily
by aeroplanes in Kut.... I met a very jolly Irish officer, a V.C. He
said that when the war broke out he, and many like himself, saw the
Mohammedan difficulty. They had themselves been ready to refuse to
fight against Ulster; why should Indians fight the Turks? We were
fighting for our own lives, but the quarrel did not really concern
Indians. They might have been expected to be spectators. Then the
orders came for them to go to France. They called up the Indian
officers and said to them: “Germany has declared war, and on second
thoughts, a Jehad. She quarrelled with England first and then pretended
she was fighting for Islam.” The Indian officers agreed, and came along
readily. They were then ordered to Mesopotamia. They again called upon
the Indian officers, who said: “We would sooner go anywhere else in
the world, but we will go, and we will not let the regiment down.” They
were told to go to Bagdad, and were willing to go, though their frame
of mind was the same.... Then I went off to interrogate prisoners. It
was tremendously hot. The prisoners were under a guard of Indians,
and I found it hard to make the Indians understand my few words of
Hindustani. The prisoners’ morale seemed good. They said they were not
tired of the war and that they did not think of disobeying orders, for
that, they said, would be awful and would make chaos. They thought that
what pleased God was going to happen, and they were inclined to believe
that that would be victory for the Turks. They said twenty-seven guns
had come up in the last eight days, 17 cm. and 20 cm. If that’s the
case, they can shell us out of here. I told the Admiral, and in the
evening we walked. We met General Gorringe ... I am tremendously sorry
for these men here. Last year the God of battles was on our side. We
ought not to have won, by any law of odds or strategy, at Shaiba, at
Ctesiphon, or Nasryah, but we did. They won against everything, and now
the luck has turned. They have brought Indian troops to fight on holy
soil for things that mean nothing to them. They have been hopelessly
outnumbered by the Turks. They have been starved of everything, from
food to letters, not to speak of high explosives. They have been
through the most ghastly heat and the most cruel cold, and they are
still cheerful. I have never seen a more friendly lot than these men
here. They have always got something cheerful to say when you meet
them. The weather has changed and it’s very fine, with a beautiful
wind and clear skies, but there are no scents, like in Gallipoli, of
thyme and myrtle. It’s a limitless bare plain, green and sometimes
brown mud, covered by an amazing mixture of men and creatures: horses
and mules and buffaloes, Highlanders, Soudanese and Devons, Arabs and
Babus. Camp fires spring up, somehow, at night by magic. We generally
have a bombardment most days, but no shells round us.
_Monday, April 17, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Waterfly.”_ Harris is Captain. While
we were having breakfast this morning a German aeroplane flew over and
bombed us ineffectually. Bombs fell a couple of hundred yards away in
camp, not doing any damage, but they’ll get us sometime, as we are a
fine target, three boats together.
_Tuesday, April 18, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Waterfly.”_ Last night the Admiral
went to Amara. He left Jack Marriott, Philip Neville, Dick Bevan and me
here. There was no work down there and a lot here. Last night we did
well, took about 250 prisoners and the Bunds that are essential to us.
If the Turks have these and want to, they can flood the country to the
extent of making manœuvring impossible. There was peace yesterday at
the crimson sunset. Then after that came the tremendous fight. Guns and
flares blazed all along the line. Now comes the news that we have lost
the Bunds and the eight guns we had taken. The position is not clear.
We are said to have retaken most of the positions this morning.
The prisoners’ morale here is much better than in Gallipoli. I asked
an Arab if he was glad to be a prisoner. He said that he was sorry,
because his own people might think that he hadn’t fought well, but
that he was glad not to have to go on fighting for the Germans. Jack
Marriott wrote for me while I translated. The prisoners could not or
would not tell us anything much about the condition of the river. This
morning I had an experience. I walked out through tremendous heat to
where the last batch of officer prisoners were guarded in a tent. As I
came up, I heard loud wrangling, and saw the prisoners being harangued
by a fierce black-bearded officer. I said: “Who here talks Turkish?”
and a grizzled old Kurd said: “Some of us talk Kurdish and some Arabic,
but we all talk Turkish.” I picked out Black-beard and took him apart
from the others, whom I saw he had been bullying. He was a schoolmaster
and a machine-gunner, and fierce beyond words. He began by saying
sarcastically that he would give me all the information I wanted. “You
have failed at Gallipoli,” he said. “We hold you up at Salonica, and
you are only visitors at Basra. I do not mind how much I tell you,
because I know we are going to win.” I answered rather tartly that it
was our national habit to be defeated at the beginning of every war and
to win at the end, and that we should go on, if it took us ten years.
“Ah, then,” he said, “you will be fighting Russia.” I did not like the
way this conversation was going, and said to him: “Do you know the
thing that your friends the Germans have done? They have offered Persia
to Russia. How do you like that?” “The question is,” he said, “how
do you like it?” He then said that he was sick of the word “German,”
that Turkey was not fighting for the Germans, but to get rid of the
capitulations. He said they had four Austrian motor-guns of 24 cm.
coming in a few days. I congratulated him. In the end he became more
friendly, but I got nothing out of him. One prisoner had a series of
fits: I think it was fright. He got all right when he was given water
and food. The river has given another great sigh and risen a foot and
a half. We have crossed over from the right to the left bank. It’s a
black, thundery day. Much depends on to-day and to-night.
_Good Friday, April 21, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Waterfly.”_ I have had no time
to write these last days. This morning is a beautiful morning, with a
fresh north wind. When we first came here Townshend was supposed to
be able to hold out until the 12th. Now the 27th April is the last
date. All the reports that we have been getting from the Turks are
bad. Masses more men and guns coming up, heavy calibre guns. Still,
Townshend is getting some food.... The _Julnar_ is to go up in a few
days, when the moon is waning. It is very difficult to get information
from the prisoners, without running the risk of giving things away.
Costello is chief of the Intelligence here, a capital fellow.
The Royal Indian Marine, freed from the obstruction of India, seem to
have done pretty well. A lot of the boats and barges sent here have
been sunk on the way. The Admiralty goes on building these river Fly
boats like anything. The _Mantis_, with Bernard Buxton captain, draws 5
feet and was intended for the Danube in the days when we were going to
have taken Constantinople. On Wednesday, the 18th, we fired a good deal
from the _Waterfly_. We are not well situated for firing....
The Dorsets and Norfolks, the Oxfords and the Devons, have done the
most splendid fighting. Twenty-two Dorsets saved the whole situation
at Ahwaz. Harris, who is only twenty-five, has been through all this.
He was the first up here, with Leachman. It’s awfully bad luck on
Townshend, being shut up again, the second time counting Chitral. On
Wednesday there was a tremendous fire. It sounded like a nearer Helles.
The Turks are three miles from us. They lollop down mines that go on
the bank, but this morning one was found close by the ship.
I examined a Turk this morning, who said that three Army Corps were
coming up under Mehemed Ali Pasha. I asked him if they could outflank
us on the Hai, to try and turn this place into a second Kut. “That,” he
said, “has always been my opinion.”
Yesterday, the 20th, I went to H.Q. in the morning, then talked to Dick
and got maps revised and borrowed a horse for the afternoon from Percy
Herbert, and got another from Costello for B.
* * * * *
Here I should explain that I had promised my friend B., the sailor, to
take him up into the front-line trenches. He had never been in a front
trench before, and was determined to see what it was like.
* * * * *
_Diary._ General Gillman gave B. and me luncheon. Then B. and I rode
out to the camp of the 18th Division, where I found Brownrigg, now
become a Colonel, with malaria. I congratulated and condoled. I asked
if we could get into the front trench, and Colonel Hillard said it
was unhealthy. B. said that didn’t matter, and I asked exactly how
unhealthy. Hillard said there were no communication trenches and we
should be under machine-gun fire at 80 yards. No rations were being
sent up till nightfall, but still, of course, if we wanted to go, we
could. B. was passionately anxious to go; I was not. We walked down a
shallow communication trench, which we soon had to leave, because of
the water, and then across the open to a beastly place called Crofton’s
Post, an observation post in the flat land, with a few sandbags and mud
walls. They had dug a kind of shelter about 6 feet deep below it. It
stood about 20 feet high. The Turks were eight to nine hundred yards
away. We passed other observation posts, these simply a ladder rising
from the flat land, and men like flies on it. It’s incredible that the
Turks leave these places standing or that they allow people to walk
about in the open in the way in which they do. Coming out, we passed a
lot of quail and partridge and some jolly wild flowers, but also the
smells of the battlefield.
After we had been at Crofton’s Post a little while, a furious
bombardment of the Turks by us began. I cursed myself for not having
asked what the plans of the afternoon were going to be. B. was
delighted. Shells rushed over our heads from all sides. I heard the
scream of two premature bursts just by us. They raised filthy, great
columns of heaving smoke. It was a wonderful picture; the radiant and
brilliant light of the afternoon, the desert out by the river, the
gleam of the gun flashes and the smouldering smoke columns.
The Gurkhas fought very well two nights ago, they said here. They used
up all their ammunition and what Turkish rifles they could get and then
they fought with kukris. At one place an unfortunate mistake happened.
We mistook the Indians for Turks, and we bombarded each other.
We went back almost deafened by our own guns, B. reluctant to leave.
I expected a heavy Turkish return bombardment every minute, which
would have been unpleasant without any cover, but beyond the ticking
of a machine-gun nothing happened. Found General Maude having tea. His
casualties have been heavy--nineteen officers killed and wounded in the
last ten days, simply trench work, no attacks. He said it was putting a
very heavy strain on the new army.
The more I see of this foul country, the more convinced I am that we
are a seafaring people, lured to disaster by this river. The River
Tigris has been a disaster and a delusion to us. These lines are
untenable without two railways, one across to Nasriyah and the other
up to Bagdad. At the present moment, we can be cut off if the river
falls or if they manage to put in guns anywhere down the river and sink
a couple of our boats, or even one, in the narrows, and so block the
channel. We have got no policy. We came here and we saw the Tigris and
we said: “This is as good as the sea, and up we will go,” and now it
will dry up and we shall get left.
Lawrence arrived at Wadi on Wednesday. Had some talk with him; I am
very glad to see him. Got a letter from John Kennaway yesterday--he is
down at Sheikh Saad--asking me to go there. I can get no news about
Bobby Palmer. Am afraid there is no doubt; he must be killed; am very
sad for his people.
_Easter Sunday, April 23, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Greenfly.”_ A curious
morning, with the whole of Pusht i Kuh standing blue and clear. The
last two foreigners who visited that place were given the choice of
embracing Islam or of being pushed over the precipice. They chose the
precipice.
Yesterday morning we attacked. The 19th Brigade, the Black Watch,
the 20th and the 28th. We took two trenches, but were driven back to
our own. I was sent post-haste to H.Q. for news. There was a great
sand-storm and men and artillery going through it like phantoms.
Overhead it was lurid. One could hardly breathe for the sand. High
columns of it rushed across the desert. The repulse looks as if the
end’s very close. I came back to the Admiral and was sent back again.
This time they said there was a truce, and if the Admiral would give
permission, I was to go to the front at once. I came back and found
the Admiral and went on shore. I got a horse and rode up to the front
as fast as I could, passing many dead and wounded. I went to General
Younghusband and asked if I could be of any use to him. He said the
truce was ending. The Turks had pushed out white flags, which was
decent of them. We had done the same. A Staff officer came in to say
that the Turks were taking our kit, and he wanted to fire on them. I
was anxious we should not do so without giving warning.
We discussed the possibility of the Turks’ letting Townshend and his
men come out with the honours of war, to be on parole till peace. I
said that I could see no _quid pro quo_, and even if one existed,
we, here, could not use it, because of our ignorance of the Russian
situation.... The General said that the water had narrowed our front to
300 yards across which to attack. The Turkish trenches were half-full
of water and many of our men fell and got their rifles filled with
mud. The Turks attacked again at once. He said there were not many
troops who would do that when a brigade like the 19th had been through
them. There’s very little left of the 19th; beautiful men they were. I
have talked to a lot of them these last days. I rode back on a horse
that was always falling down. In the evening I crossed the river with
the Admiral and rode up to the front with Beach. There was shelling
going on, but nothing came near. The river was gorgeous in the sunset.
Overhead the sand-grouse flew. We talked about the future.... It seems
to me that if we have got to retreat 130 miles it’s less bad for
prestige to do it in one go. The Politicals’ point of view is that you
should not retreat at all, but that, of course, has got to depend on
military considerations. The Soldiers’ point of view is that you should
not do your retreat in one go, because you do not kill so many of the
enemy as if you fall back from one position to another; but then, I
suppose, that cuts both ways. None of these soldiers have had any
decorations since the beginning of the war. One of them said to me it
made them unhappy, because they felt that they hadn’t done their duty.
It’s an infernal shame. I asked the man who had said this if he had any
leave. He said: “Not much! I should have lost my job.” That would have
been quite a pleasure to a lot of men....
Lawrence has gone and got fever; Nunn also has it. The atmosphere makes
shooting difficult. Yesterday the Turks shot quite a lot at a mirage,
splashing their bullets about in the Suwekki marsh. We often do the
same. Curiously enough, I believe that we won the battle of Shaiba by
virtue of a mirage. We saw a lot of Turks marching up against our
position, and fired at them; these Turks were phantoms of men miles
away; but it happened to be the only road by which they could bring up
their ammunition, and our firing prevented that. To-night the _Julnar_
goes up the river on her journey. She has less speed than they thought.
* * * * *
For various reasons I have barely mentioned the _Julnar_ until now,
though she had been very much in our thoughts. The _Julnar_ was a river
boat, and for some days past she had been preparing to set out upon her
splendid, tragic mission. In her lay the last hope of General Townshend
and his gallant force. Her freight was food, intended to prolong the
resistance of the garrison until the relieving force was sufficiently
strong to drive back the Turks and enter Kut. The writer of this diary
has many heroic pictures in his mind, but no more heroic picture and
no more glowing memory than the little _Julnar_ steaming slowly up the
flaming Tigris to meet the Turkish Army and her fate. Her Captains were
Lieut. Firman, R.N. and Lieut.-Comdr. Cowley, R.N.V.R., of Lynch’s
Company, who had spent a long life in navigating the River Tigris.
When Admiral Wemyss called for volunteers, every man volunteered, for
what was practically certain death. Lieut. Firman and Lieut.-Comdr.
Cowley were both killed, and both received posthumous V.C.’s.
* * * * *
_Diary. April 23rd._ _H.M.S. “Greenfly.”_ We are alongside the
_Mantis_. I am sleeping in Firman’s cabin. He is down-stream, but
he comes up to-night. Many men badly wounded yesterday, but all as
cheerful as could be; one man with three bullets in his stomach, full
of talk and oaths. Fifteen of the Dorsets have died in the nearest
hospital and have been buried close by.
This afternoon an Easter Service was held on board. The Padre made a
good sermon three minutes long. It was a wonderful sight--the desert
covered with our graves, mirages in the distance and the river glowing
in the sun. At the end of the service the _Julnar_ arrived. Firman
is an attractive good-looking fellow. King, whom I met last year in
Alexandretta, whither he had marched from Bagdad, is also here. When
Buxton told the men of the hundred to one chance of the _Julnar’s_
getting through, they volunteered to a man. Gieve waistcoats are being
served out; the cannon’s sounding while they are loading the _Julnar_
and the Black Watch are playing on the bagpipes close by. Overhead go
the sand-grouse, calling and the river and the desert wind are sighing.
It’s all like a dream.... Even if she does get through, I don’t believe
we can relieve Kut. The Turks will have time to consolidate their
position and we shan’t be sent enough men from home to take them. If
this attempt fails, I suppose we shall fall back to Sheikh Saad. I see
three points: (1) Political. Don’t retreat. (2) Military. You’ve got to
retreat, occupying as many positions as possible, in order to attrition
the enemy. (3) If you do this last, you give the Turks the chance of
saying they have beaten you in a number of battles. Probably retreat
as little as possible is the best. A retreat may be more disastrous to
us than the loss of Kut. While we hold Sheikh Saad, it’s difficult for
them to outflank us on the right bank, and while we have the Vali of
Pusht i Kuh with us, they ought not to be able to get to Ahwaz. One
wonders if they realize the supreme importance of Basra at home and
that if we no longer hold it we do not hold the Indian Ocean.
_Monday, April 24, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Dragonfly.”_ Firman came last night,
and I sat next to him at dinner. The _Julnar_ could not start; she
starts to-night.
I went ashore this morning and saw Leachman, then Colonel Beach. The
flies are awful; one black web of them this morning; in one’s hair and
eyes and mouth, in one’s bath and shaving-water, in one’s tea and in
one’s towel. It’s a great nuisance being without Edward and having to
do everything oneself, besides one’s work. It destroys all joy in war.
_Tuesday, April 25, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Greenfly.”_ A year ago to-day we
landed at Anzac. To-day is the day of the fall of Kut, though the
surrender may not be made for some time. Last night the _Julnar_ left.
I saw old Cowley, an old friend. He is to pilot her. He has been
thirty-three years on this river. He is a proper Englishman. He laughed
and chaffed with Philip Neville and me on the _Julnar_ before starting.
Firman was very glad to have got the job, and felt the responsibility.
Everybody wanted to go. The sailors were moved. No cheers were allowed.
They pushed off, almost stationary, into the river, that was a glory
of light with the graceful mehailahs in an avenue on both sides of
it, with masts and rigging a filigree against the gorgeous sunset.
The faint bagpipes and the desert wind were the only music at their
going.... The Admiral told me to be ready to go out at any moment.
This morning Colonel Beach came aboard and told me to hold myself in
readiness. He proposed going out to see the Turks with Lawrence and
myself. He talked about terms. It’s a very difficult thing to get terms
when one side holds all the cards. If Townshend destroys his guns, as
he must, I don’t see what terms we have got. My own opinion is that
Townshend would make better terms for himself with the Turks than we
can get for him here. It will be difficult to stop the Arabs being shot
and hung. We have got to do our best....
The _Julnar_ has grounded above the Sinn position. Nothing is known of
what happened to the crew.
Wilfred Peek turned up here this afternoon, having seen John Kennaway
down the stream. We have no terms to offer the Turks except money,
general or local peace, or the evacuation of territory. I do not think
the first is any good. We cannot offer the second because of ourselves
and of Russia. The third might be all right, if it was not beyond
Amarah. I hope in these negotiations we do not meet a Prussian Turk in
Khalil.
After lunch I met Captain Potter. In the last attack this had happened:
A corporal had gone mad and, after rolling in filth, had come down the
trench with a bomb in each hand, shouting out that he was looking for
the ---- Arabs. The parapet was low, about shoulder-high, and there was
a good deal of shrapnel and bullets coming in. The corporal threw the
bomb into the middle of the officers’ mess, killing one and wounding
the Colonel, knocking Potter and the others out. They collared the
corporal, who had got a madman’s strength. Then the attack followed.
Potter went as soon as he recovered. They charged across 600 yards
under machine-gun fire, up to their knees in mud. The Turks were in
their third trench. The first and the second were filled with mud.
Then the Turks ran out a white flag, which suited us very well, as it
allowed our men in the Turkish trenches to get away, which otherwise
they couldn’t have done. He thought the Turks did it because they
wanted to bring up reinforcements. He now commands a battalion of 84,
all that are left of 650 men. He said they had reached the limits
of human endurance. He had three officers, including himself, left.
The Black Watch had been wiped out twice, and other regiments simply
annihilated. I told him that I thought there would be no more attacks.
He said a Turkish prisoner, a friend of his, had said to him: “Let’s
have a truce and both kill the Arabs.”
Beach says there is no question of going out to-day. I went out
shooting sand-grouse.
_Wednesday, April 26, 1916._ _H.M.S. “Mantis.”_ I am writing in great
haste, till the sun goes down, as the mehailahs stream past on a river
of fire, in the retreat that is beginning.