Part 14

_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.

Lunched aboard the _Malamir_. General Lake was very kind. I went off 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.

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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.

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