town of importance was a ramshackle mud-walled affair called Tauq, twenty
miles beyond, on the far side of a river known as the Tauq Chai. The
leading cars pursued to within sight of the town and came in for a good
deal of shelling.
The Turks we captured were in far poorer shape than those we had recently
taken on the Euphrates front. Their shoes were worn out, they were very
ragged, and, what was of greater significance, they were badly nourished.
The length of their line of communications had evidently severely strained
them. Supplies had to come overland all the way from Nisibin, which is
more than a hundred miles beyond Mosul. The broken country made the
transportation a difficult problem to solve. It was a miracle that they
had the morale to fight as they did under such disadvantageous conditions.
Here, as throughout the campaign, it was a continual source of pride to
see the way in which our soldiers behaved to the natives. I never heard of
a case in which man, woman, or child was wrongfully treated. Minor
offenses were sometimes committed, but these were quickly righted. No
doubt there were isolated instances of wrong-doing, for in such a large
army there are bound to be degenerate individuals from whose conduct it is
unfair to judge the whole.
That night we encamped in the outskirts of Tuz, not far from the Turkish
aerodrome. Next morning one of the batteries was ordered to reconnoitre as
far as the town--pursuing a different route than that taken on the
previous day. The commanding officer asked me to go along because of my
knowledge of Arabic. The road followed the telegraph-lines, and part of
the time that was the only way in which we could distinguish it from the
surrounding country. Of course, the map was hopelessly incorrect. The
villages were not even rightly named. A great deal of reconnoitring was
called for, and in one village we had to knock the corner off a mud house
to enable us to make a sharp right-angle turn. The natives were in pitiful
condition. The Turks had not only taken all their crops, but even the
grain that should be reserved to sow for the following year. The sheep had
been killed in the lambing season, so the flocks were sadly depleted. Such
standing grain as there was left looked flourishing. The wheat waved above
the cars.
As we came out of a deep, broad ravine that had caused us much delay and
difficulty, we caught sight of an attractive town situated on a steep,
flat-topped hill. Upon drawing near, a fine-looking, white-bearded Arab
rode up on a small gray mare. He said that he was the head man of the
town; that he hated the Turks, and would like to be of any assistance
possible to us. I asked him if the enemy had evacuated Tauq. He replied
that they had. I then asked him if he were positive about it. He offered
to accompany us to prove it. The trail was so bad that we could not go
fast, and he rode along beside us at a hand-gallop.
When we came to the river in front of the town we found that it was
impossible to get the armored cars across. The Turks had evidently fallen
back, but not far, for they were dropping in shells with regularity. Our
Arab friend told us that there was a bridge six miles up-stream, but it
was too late for us to attempt it, and we turned back to Tuz after
arranging with Sheikh Muttar to meet us in the morning.
[Illustration: The Kurd and his wife]
[Illustration: Sheik Muttar and the two Kurds]
Next day we found him waiting for us as he had promised. With him were two
handsome Kurds. One of them had his wife perched behind him on the horse's
crupper. Together they undertook to guide us up to the bridge. It was
invariably difficult to find out from natives whether or not a road was
passable for motor-cars. They were accustomed to think only in terms of
horses or men, and could not realize that a bad washout might be
impassable for automobiles. Curiously enough, even those natives whom we
had taken along with us on several reconnaissances as guides could not be
trusted to give an opinion as to the feasibility of a proposed route. We
experienced no little trouble in following our guides to the bridge,
although we afterward discovered a good road that cut off from the main
trail about half-way between Tuz and Tauq.
When we reached the bridge we found it to be a solid, well-built affair of
recent construction. The retreating Turks had tried to blow it up, but the
most vital charges had failed to go off, so the damage done would not be
sufficiently serious to stop our passage, after six or seven hours'
preliminary work. We immediately sent back for the engineers, and put in
the time while waiting by taking a much-needed bath in the rapids beneath
one of the side arches. Every one who has wandered about in the waste
places of the world can recall certain swims that will always stand out in
his memory. Perhaps they have been after a long and arduous hunt--perhaps
at the end of a weary march. Our plunge in the Tauq Chai took its place
among these.
In the late afternoon we drove back to Tuz. Our camp there was anything
but cheerful, for swarms of starving townsfolk hovered on the outskirts
ready to pounce on any refuse that the men threw away. Discarded tin cans
were cleaned out until the insides shone like mirrors. The men gave away
everything they could possibly spare from their rations. As the news
spread, the starving mountain Kurds began straggling in; and the gruesome
band made one glad to leave camp early and return after dark. Our line of
communication was so extended that it was impossible to attempt any relief
work.
The following morning we crossed over the bridge with little trouble, but
ran into a lot of difficulty when we tried to make our way down to the
town. A couple of miles above the main town there is a small settlement
grouped on a hill around the mosque of Zain El Abidin. The "mutabelli," or
keeper of the shrine, is an important personage in the community, so when
he appeared riding a richly caparisoned stallion and offered to accompany
us to the town, we welcomed the opportunity of going in under such good
auspices. We decided to take Seyid Mustapha, for that was his name, in one
of the Ford vans with us. It was comparatively easy to get the light car
up over the precipitous, rocky trail; and eventually one of the fighting
cars succeeded in following. I was driving, with Mustapha beside me. In
front of us on a white horse galloped the Seyid's attendant singing and
shouting and proclaiming our arrival. We stopped at Mustapha's house for a
cup of coffee and a discussion of events. The information which we secured
from him afterward proved unusually correct. I took him on with us to the
town so that he could identify the head man and see that we got hold of
the right people. Our reception was by no means cordial, although after we
had talked a little and explained what we were after, the mayor became
cheerful and expansive. He had a jovial, rotund face, covered in large
part by a bushy beard, and would have done excellently as a model for
Silenus. In the town were a handful of Turkish stragglers--among them a
stalwart Greek who spoke a little English. He said that he had been
impressed into service by the Turks and was most anxious to join our
forces.
We found large stores of ammunition and other supplies, among them a
wireless set. What interested us most, I am afraid, was the quantity of
chickens that we saw strutting about. A few of them and a good supply of
eggs found their way to the automobiles in short order. We were always
very particular about paying for whatever we took, and seeing that the men
did likewise; our reputation went before us, and the native, as a rule,
took it for granted that we would pay. It was up to the officers to see
that the prices were not exorbitant. We always used Indian currency--the
rupee and the anna. In normal times a rupee is about a third of a dollar.
Throughout the occupied area Turkish currency also circulated, but the
native invariably preferred to be paid in Indian. Curiously enough, even
on entering towns like Tauq, we found the inhabitants eager for payment in
rupees. I was told that in the money market in Baghdad a British advance
would be heralded by a slump in Turkish exchange. Paper rupees were almost
everywhere as readily accepted as silver, but paper liras and piasters
were soon of so little value that they were no longer in circulation.
When we got back to camp I found a wire informing me that I had been
transferred to the American army, and ordering me to report at once to
Baghdad to be sent to France. Major Thompson asked me if I would delay my
return until the end of the advance. It was rumored that we would continue
to push on and would attack Kirkuk. Many felt that the difficulty that was
already being experienced in rationing us would preclude our thrusting
farther. Still, I made up my mind that as long as the major wished it and
would wire for permission I would stay a few days longer on the chance of
the attack continuing.
On the morning of the 3d we moved camp to the far side of the Tauq Chai
bridge. When the tenders were unloaded I started back to bring up a supply
of gasolene, with the purpose of making a dump in case we were called upon
for a further advance. I was told that the nearest supply from which I
could draw was at Umr Maidan; and the prospect of running back, a distance
of seventy miles, was not cheerful. When I got as far as Tuz I found a
friend in charge of the dump there, and he let me draw what I wanted, so I
turned back to try to get to the bridge by dark. One car after another
got in trouble; first it was a puncture, then it was a tricky carburetor
that refused to be put to rights; towing-ropes were called into
requisition, but the best had been left behind, and those we had were
rotted, and broke on every hill. Lastly a broken axle put one of the
tenders definitely out of commission, and, of course, I had to wait behind
with it. To add to everything, a veritable hurricane set in, with thunder
and lightning and torrents of rain. The wind blew so hard that I thought
the car would be toppled over. What made us more gloomy than anything else
was the thought of all the dry river courses that would be roaring floods
by morning, and probably hold up the ration supply indefinitely.
Two days later the orders for which we had been waiting came through. We
were to march upon a town called Taza Khurmatli, lying fifteen miles
beyond Tauq and ten short of Kirkuk. If we met with no opposition there we
were to push straight on. From all we could hear Taza was occupied only by
cavalry, which would probably fall back without contesting our advance.
The cars had been out on reconnaissance near the town for the last two
days, and had come in for artillery and machine-gun fire; but it was
believed that the Turks had everything ready to withdraw their guns on our
approach.
In the gray light that preceded dawn we saw shadowy columns of infantry
and artillery and cavalry passing by our camp. The costumes of the
different regiments made a break in the drab monotony. The Mesopotamian
Expeditionary Force was composed of varied components. Steel helmets could
be worn only in winter. In many of the native regiments the British
officers wore tasselled pugrees, and long tunics that were really shirts,
and an adaption of the native custom of wearing the shirt-tails outside
the trousers. The Gurkhas were supplied with pith helmets. It was
generally claimed that this was unnecessary, but the authorities felt that
coming from a cold, high climate they would be as much affected by the
Mesopotamian sun as were Europeans. The presence of the Indian troops
brought about unusual additions to the dry "General Routine Orders" issued
by general headquarters. One of them, referring to a religious festival of
the Sikhs, ran:
"The following cable message received from Sunder Signh Hagetha,
Amritsar, addressed to Sikhs in Mesopotamian force:
"To our most Dear Brothers now serving the Benign King-Emperor oversea,
the chief Khalsa Dewan tenders hearty and sincere greetings on the
auspicious Gurpurb of First Guru. You are upholding the name and fame of
Gurupurb. Our hearts are with you and our prayers are that Satguru and
Akalpurkh may ever be with you and lead you to victory and return home
safe, after vanquishing the King-Emperor's foes, with honor and flying
colors."
The British Empire was well and loyally served by her Indian subjects, and
by none more faithfully than the Sikhs.
We let the column get well started before we shoved off in our cars. The
trail was wide enough to pass without interfering; and long before we were
in sight of Taza we had taken our place ahead. As was foreseen, the enemy
evacuated the town with scarce a show of resistance. I set off to
interview the local head man. In the spring all the upper Mesopotamian
towns are inundated by flocks of storks, but I have never seen them in
greater force than in Taza. On almost every housetop were a couple,
throwing their heads back and clattering their beaks in the odd way that
gives them their onomatopoetic Arabic name of Lak-Lak. It sounded like the
rattle of machine-guns; so much so that on entering the village, for the
first second I thought that the Turks were opening up on us. No native
will molest a stork; to do so is considered to the last degree
inauspicious.
There was but little water in the river running by Taza, and we managed to
get the cars through under their own power. A few miles farther on lay a
broad watercourse, dry in the main, but with the centre channel too deep
to negotiate, so there was nothing to be done without the help of the
artillery horses. The Turks were shelling the vicinity of the crossing, so
we drew back a short distance and sent word that we were held up waiting
for assistance to get us over.
Once we had reached the far side we set out to pick our way round Kirkuk
to get astride the road leading thence to Altun Kupri. This is the main
route from Baghdad to Mosul, the chief city on the upper Tigris, across
the river from the ruins of Nineveh. It was a difficult task finding a way
practicable for the cars, as the ground was still soft from the recent
rains. It was impossible to keep defiladed from Turkish observation, but
we did not supply them with much in the way of a target. At length we got
round to the road, and started to advance down it to Kirkuk. The town, in
common with so many others in that part of the country, is built on a
hill. The Hamawand Kurds are inveterate raiders, and good fortifications
are needed to withstand them. As we came out upon the road we caught sight
of our cavalry preparing to attack. The Turks were putting up a stout
resistance, with darkness fast coming to their aid. After approaching
close to the town, we were ordered to return to a deserted village for the
night, prepared to go through in the early morning.
The co-ordinates of the village were given, and we easily found it on the
map; but it was quite another proposition to locate it physically. To add
to our difficulties, the sky clouded over and pitchy blackness settled
down. It soon started to rain, so we felt that the best we could do was
select as likely a spot as came to hand and wait for morning. I made up my
mind that the front seat of a van, uncomfortable and cramped as it was,
would prove the best bed for the night. My estimate was correct, for at
midnight the light drizzle, that was scarcely more than a Scotch mist,
turned into a wild, torrential downpour that all but washed away my
companions. The waterproof flap that I had rigged withstood the onslaughts
of wind and rain in a fashion that was as gratifying as it was unexpected.
The vivid flashes of lightning showed the little dry ravine beside us
converted into a roaring, swirling torrent. The water was rushing past
beneath the cars, half-way up to their hubs. A large field hospital had
been set up close to the banks of the stream at Taza. We afterward heard
that the river had risen so rapidly that many of the tents and a few
ambulances were washed away.
By morning it had settled down into a steady, businesslike downpour. We
found that we were inextricably caught in among some low hills. There was
not the slightest chance of moving the fighting cars; they were bogged
down to the axle. There was no alternative other than to wait until the
rain stopped and the mud dried. Fortunately our emergency rations were
still untouched.
Our infantry went over at dawn, and won through into the town. If it had
not been for the rain we would have made some important captures. As it
was, the Turks destroyed the bridge across the Hasa Su and retreated to
Altun Kupri by the road on the farther bank. From a hill near by we
watched everything, powerless to help in any way.
At noon the sky unexpectedly cleared and the sun came out. We unloaded a
Ford van, and with much pushing and no little spade work managed to get it
down to a road running in the direction of Kirkuk. We found the surface
equal to the light car, and slowly made our way to the outskirts of the
town, with occasional halts where digging and shoving were required. We
satisfied ourselves that, given a little sun, we could bring the armored
cars out of their bog and through to the town.
[Illustration: Kirkuk]
Next morning, in spite of the fact that more rain had fallen during the
night, I set to work on my tenders, and at length succeeded in putting
them all in Kirkuk. We were billeted in the citadel, a finely built,
substantial affair, with a courtyard that we could turn into a good
garage. The Turks had left in great haste, and, although they had
attempted a wholesale destruction of everything that they could not
take, they had been only partially successful. In my room I found a
quantity of pamphlets describing the American army--with diagrams of
insignia, and pictures of fully equipped soldiers of the different
branches of the service. There was also a map of the United States showing
the population by States. The text was, of course, in Turkish and the
printing excellently done. What the purpose might be I could not make out.
The wherefore of another booklet was more obvious. It was an illustrated
account of alleged British atrocities. Most of the pictures purported to
have been taken in the Sudan, and showed decapitated negroes. Some I am
convinced were pictures of the Armenian massacres that the Turks had
themselves taken and in a thrifty moment put to this useful purpose. This
pamphlet was printed at the press in Kirkuk.
There were a number of excellent buildings--mainly workshops and armories,
but the best was the hospital. The long corridors and deep windows of the
wards looked very cool. An up-to-date impression was given by the
individual patient charts, with the headings for the different diagnoses
printed in Turkish and French. The doctors were mainly Armenians. The
occupants were all suffering from malnutrition, and there was a great deal
of starvation in the town.
I did not wish to return to Baghdad until I could be certain that we were
not going to advance upon Altun Kupri. The engineers patched up the
bridge, and we took the cars over to the other side and went off on a
reconnaissance to ascertain how strongly the town was being held. The long
bridge from which it gets its name could easily be destroyed, and crossing
over the river would be no light matter. The surrounding mountains limited
the avenue of attack. Altogether it would not be an easy nut to crack, and
the Turks had evidently determined on a stand. What decided the army
commander to make any further attempt to advance was most probably the
great length of the line of communications, and the recent floods had made
worse conditions which were bad enough at the best. The ration supply had
fallen very low, and it seemed impossible to hold even Kirkuk unless the
rail-head could be advanced materially.
I put in all my odd moments wandering about the bazaars. The day after
the fall the merchants opened their booths and transacted business as
usual. The population was composed of many races, chiefly Turcoman, Kurd,
and Arab. There were also Armenians, Chaldeans, Syrians, and Jews. The
latter were exceedingly prosperous. Arabic and Kurdish and Turkish were
all three spoken. Kirkuk is of very ancient origin--but of its early
history little is known. The natives point out a mound which they claim to
be Daniel's tomb. Two others are shown as belonging to Shadrach and
Meshech; that of the third of the famous trio has been lost. There are
many artificial hills in the neighborhood, and doubtless in course of time
it will prove a fruitful hunting-ground for archæologists. As far as I
could learn no serious excavating has hitherto been undertaken in the
vicinity.
The bazaars were well filled with goods of every sort. I picked up one or
two excellent rugs for very little, and a few odds and ends, dating from
Seleucid times, that had been unearthed by Arab laborers in their gardens
or brick-kilns. There were some truck-gardens in the outskirts, and we
traded fresh vegetables for some of our issue rations. There are few
greater luxuries when one has been living on canned foods for a long
time. I saw several ibex heads nailed up over the doors of houses. The
owners told me that they were to be found in the near-by mountains, but
were not plentiful. There is little large game left in Mesopotamia, and
that mainly in the mountains. I once saw a striped hyena. It is a
nocturnal animal, and they may be common, although I never came across but
the one, which I caught sight of slinking among the ruins of Istabulat,
south of Samarra, one evening when I was riding back to camp. Gazelle were
fairly numerous, and we occasionally shot one for venison. It was on the
plains between Kizil Robat and Kara Tepe that I saw the largest bands.
Judging from ancient bas-reliefs lions must at one time have been very
plentiful. In the forties of the last century Sir Henry Layard speaks of
coming across them frequently in the hill country; and later still, in the
early eighties, a fellow countryman, Mr. Fogg, in his _Land of the Arabian
Nights_, mentions that the English captain of a river steamer had recently
killed four lions, shooting from the deck of his boat. Rousseau speaks of
meeting, near Hit, a man who had been badly mauled by a lion, and was
going to town to have his wounds cared for. Leopards and bears are to be
met with in the higher mountain regions, and wild boars are common in many
districts. They inhabit the thickets along the river-banks, in country
that would permit of much sound sport in the shape of pig-sticking.
Game-birds are found in abundance; both greater and lesser bustard; black
and gray partridges, quail, geese, duck, and snipe. A week's leave could
be made provide good shooting and a welcome addition to the usual fare
when the wanderer returned. Every sort of shotgun was requisitioned, from
antiquated muzzle-loaders bought in the bazaar to the most modern
creations of Purdy sent out from India by parcel-post.
After waiting a few days further, to be certain that an attack would not
be unexpectedly ordered, I set out on my return trip to Baghdad. The river
at Taza was still up, but I borrowed six mules from an accommodating
galloping ambulance, and pulled the car across. We went by way of Kifri, a
clean, stone-built town that we found all but empty. The food situation
had become so critical that the inhabitants had drifted off, some to our
lines, others to Persia, and still others to Kirkuk and Mosul. Near Kifri
are some coal-mines about which we had heard much. It is the only place in
the country where coal is worked, and we were hoping that we might put it
to good use. Our experts, however, reported that it was of very poor
quality and worth practically nothing.
VIII
BACK THROUGH PALESTINE
Several days later I embarked at Baghdad on one of the river boats. I took
Yusuf with me to Busra to put me aboard the transport for Egypt. It was
the first time he had ever been that far down-stream, and he showed a fine
contempt for everything he saw, comparing it in most disparaging terms to
his own desolate native town of Samarra. The cheapness, variety, and
plenty of the food in the bazaars of Busra were the only things that he
allowed in any way to impress him.