CHAPTER X.

SUMMER IN LOWER MESOPOTAMIA.

The voyage of the Thirteenth to Mesopotamia was uneventful but not altogether pleasant, as any one can understand who has been on board ship in the Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf in the month of July. A few extracts from diaries and letters will give some idea of it.

_Private Massey, “D” Squadron--Diary._--“Réveillé was at 3 A.M. on the morning of the 18th, and I was ordered to stay behind and load the rifles and swords on the motor-lorry, and went down to the docks on it afterwards, so I was saved a march of about four miles. After reaching the docks, the Regiment commenced to embark the horses and mules. All were soon on board, and at 11 o’clock the ship, the _Islanda_, set sail, and it was a voyage I shall never forget....”

_July 23, 1916._--“During the voyage we had the horses to water, feed, and clean out their stalls, which involved a great deal of hard work, besides which we had to get their forage out of the hold, and carry it through no end of awkward gangways, and up and down flights of stairs. Added to this was the awful food we had issued: there was only half enough to supply the wants of the men, and what there was was unfit to eat. The mutton we had served up had always to be killed the same morning. The sheep were herded together in the bow of the ship, and though they had shelter from the burning sun the poor animals were nothing but skin and bone: little wonder we could get no meat off the bones at meal-time. Complaints were made, but it was of little use. Often at breakfast the porridge was spoilt in the cooking. I remember we were issued out with presents from the ‘Ladies from the Presidency of Bombay,’ which included cake, toffee, and games, but there was so few given to each troop that the three sections in the troops decided to toss for it, and our section won the games--deuced little comfort for a man with an empty belly. I myself was so weak that I made sure my knees would give way under the weight of my body, but the worst was yet to come. We continued sailing all day of the 24th, and in the early morning of the 25th July we arrived in close vicinity to the port of embarkation [_sic_], and after waiting for an hour or two moved alongside of the bank, and stopped against a sort of promenade which reached out into deep water. Every one was glad to see land once again, as it meant the chance of a decent meal anyway, for those who had money. The sun was now beginning to make itself felt.[15]

“After we had anchored we commenced to disembark the horses and mules. It was a slow and dangerous job, as horses were led down a gangway from the ship to the land. Finally, the painful job being finished, we next commenced to unload the saddles, after having tied up the horses in a hurdles plot. I myself was stall guard, and I had had to work in the blazing sun all morning. I had to get into an empty stall to attend to the horse next to it, and put my topee down on the deck so that I could get under the entrance, and the horse put his foot on it, smashing the topee to bits.

“After we had finished the saddles it was getting late, but there was a lot of hard work to do yet, and I do not remember stopping for meals; even if we did, it was doubtless the same as the proceeding [_sic_] days.

“Late at night, and lighted by lamps, we commenced to unload limbers and guns, also two aeroplanes, from the hold of the ship. Before commencing, we were issued with a pint of beer each, and what was left over was taken down in a ship’s jug: thus we were able to get a refresher now and again, and it did us a great deal of good. It was 4 A.M. of the 26th before we had finished. Réveillé was at 5 o’clock, so we had an hour in which to rest.

BASRA

“We lay down on the tables, the benches, and the floor; the hour soon went, when we got up, and proceeded to unload kit and equipment, then had breakfast, and then commenced to water the horses, and immediately prepared to leave for the camp, which was about four miles away.”

Such was Private Massey’s remembrance of the voyage, and if he grumbled a little, as is the way of the British soldier when he is not fighting, it must be admitted that he did a long day’s work for his “shilling and grub.” No forty-hours week for him on a six-pound wage.

Lance-Corporal Bowie’s account of the voyage is short: “The voyage to Basrah was uneventful, one horse only being lost from the effect of the heat”; and his Colonel sums it up in exactly the same words.

Another officer writes before the start, giving such news as Bombay could supply about Mesopotamia. The port was full of sick and wounded officers and men sent back from there. Their reports were not unfavourable.

_Captain Eve._--“I gather it is hot and unpleasant just now, but quite all right. Vegetables and fruits are the great want.... There is a lot of shooting, they say, and pig, and there is also excellent fishing, so we ought to have some fun.” But evidently the heat was not negligible, for “We were all issued with Cawnpore topees instead of our helmets, as they say they are necessary for Mesopotamia, and I drew one like the men’s. We wear the Regimental colours on them....

“To-morrow I start at six, when 236 horses arrive by train from Deolali, where they have been collected from all over the place. I expect most of them will be partly trained anyhow. There will be half for ‘D’ and half for ‘A,’ and I shall simply take the first 118 and let ‘A’ have the other 118. We can pick them out properly if we decide to at the other end. There are also 75 mules arriving--the whole of the Regimental transport--so there will be plenty to do, and I shall be quite content. We shall have to work to-morrow morning. They will be here by six, have breakfast, and then start away, and the ship has to be out of the docks by eleven.... There is practically no room for exercise at all, but it is only a short voyage. I do hope we have luck and don’t lose many....”

_July 23, 1916._--“All is really well, all of us and the horses very fit and flourishing. I am so pleased, and hoping with luck to get all safely ashore.... It was a wickedly hot night the one I wrote to you in the docks. I got to bed about 12.45, but could not sleep a wink, with the heat and the noise and thinking about next day. I got up again about 4.45 and was down before 6, and we worked like anything; the men were first-class, and we had no trouble with horses or mules, and were all aboard by 11 A.M. It was extraordinarily lucky I went round myself the evening before, for I found both the ramps leading below for the horses from the upper deck were made too low to let anything but a pony in. Of course I made trouble and had to have both altered.... Things worked beautifully.... 25 chargers and 235 horses and 84 mules.... The mules we put on board first, a very mixed lot, mostly in poor condition, some very big, some small, but I think they will be all right. The horses we simply took straight from the train on board.... They seem to be all walers,[16] and a small lot on the whole--some very weedy and light of bone, not many common ones, and a few showing a lot of quality; very few though showing much scope or size, and the majority of them in distinctly poor light condition. They look very healthy, and well in their coats....

“We could hardly be more comfortable than we are on this ship. She is the best for horses I have ever seen--the men are very comfortable, and so are we.... There is a lovely head breeze and it is blowing right through the ship, and it isn’t at all bad below, and all is as well as possible, and if only it goes on like this we shall, I hope, bring all in safe and well. Every one said it would be terrible....

“To-day we might get wireless news from Aden or from B.[17] How I do hope we may. You can’t tell how we want news.... This evening we are going to have a men’s concert on the boat deck, 8 to 9.30....

“We are as fit as fleas, sweating like anything of course, but I don’t seem to feel it and am ever so fit, and never been so comfortable and content on a voyage.... Every one wears shorts, and they are a great comfort....”

BASRA

_July 25._--“Everything has worked most awfully well, and we are now, 7.45 A.M., well on our way up the river.... Last night was terribly hot. I went below myself about 1 o’clock, and a lot of horses were blowing badly and we had them out in the hatchways. But they got through the night well.... There is a most lovely fresh head breeze, and it is as cool as anything. The river here is wide, and we are able to full-speed ahead, but so far it is the most terrible unhealthy-looking place--palm groves very low lying, mud, and sand. Of course this is only the delta. It ought to be much more interesting farther up....

“I can’t write proper letters from here, because I am told all officers’ letters are invariably opened and read right through by the Censor....

“We anchored about 1 P.M., and then moved on about 3.15 to our berth, and got tied up about 4.30 to the most ramshackle wooden pier--everything truly Eastern, you know what I mean. Luckily there was a good bridge down the river. I disembarked the horses, all down one gangway, in about 1 hour 20 minutes, and put them in sort of railed paddocks on shore. It was very hot. We then got to work at baggage, all the regimental transport, &c., a terrible long, slow business, and we worked the whole night, and I lay down for three-quarters of an hour. The men and we slept on board, a guard with the horses on shore. They came off all fit and well, only two with any temperature. The rest of the Regiment came in a few hours later and started disembarking too. They lost one horse _en route_. I saw the Colonel, who seemed very content. We were at it from 4 next morning, and finally got all ashore about 7.30.”

So the voyage ended, and the Thirteenth were safely landed in Mesopotamia, just twenty-eight days after leaving Marseilles. But the first few months in the country were not agreeable. The heat was great, and there was no news or excitement of any kind, nothing to do but to get the men and the new horses fit for the campaign, if there was to be a campaign, when the weather allowed of movement. For the present the Turks were not giving any trouble. Since the capture of Kut they had seemed content to sit quiet, waiting for the British to try another attack if so disposed. Meanwhile, they strengthened the defensive positions on the Tigris, from which they had inflicted so many bloody repulses upon the invaders of their country, and hoped to inflict more. They did not realise that affairs had changed, that troops and guns and equipment of all kinds were pouring in from the sea, and that the attack when it came would be a very different matter from the hasty frontal assaults in the mud, by small forces, which they had beaten off before. The British War Office had now taken over from the Indian Government the control of the expedition, and the whole resources of England were being set in motion to provide the British force with all the things necessary for modern war, and above all, with ample transport for land and river.

The Thirteenth at first suffered considerably. The letter-book from which I have quoted goes on to speak of the move from shipboard into camp.

_Captain Eve._--“It was very hot, and we got in about 11 to find our camp on the edge of the desert, about three miles off and a mile from the river. All of us in the usual E. P. large Indian tents,[18] horses in the open, all pretty uncomfortable at first. The men felt it terribly, and about eight or ten of D went down with heat-stroke on the way up, including Sergeant Hill. Pearson was knocked over the night before on the ship and went to hospital, as did all the men, of course. Next day we spent getting straight more or less, and only led the horses out. They felt the heat terribly, and poor Mam’zelle and one or two horses in the squadron died, and several others in the Regiment too. It was very heart-breaking. Three men in the squadron died, and two or three others in the Regiment.... I must go and get inoculated for cholera now. Back again. The horses are a moderate lot, still they were much better than I expected. I had hardly any men the first few days, and we were very hard worked. The men simply went down like flies with the heat. It was partly after the long time without exercise....

“The rest of the day has been wretched--a blinding filthy sand and desert storm, everything smothered in layers of filth.... Every one remarks on how well I look. Things were uncomfortable at first, and most people seemed to feel the heat very much; but I never did, and have been ever so fit all along and with a tremendous appetite.

“They have now built long matting-roofed stables for the horses, who are improving visibly.... The dust is simply unbelievable. The only thing beyond desert is date-palm groves, but I am certain here at any rate it is healthy. We have a field force canteen quite close, so while we are here shan’t need any of our weekly supplies, but shall keep everything in reserve. Also the rations are very good, both porridge and bacon and fresh meat quite often, and things like dried apricots, figs, &c., and potatoes. We can buy bread here. The ration is all biscuit....”

The officer commanding the Regiment, Colonel Richardson, dismisses the period in a very few words. “Our arrival,” he writes, “coincided with a severe heat-wave, and during the first four days about forty cases of heat-stroke occurred, of which ten proved fatal. For the next three months we were stationary in this camp, training and acclimatising horses and men. The men lived in E. P. tents, and after the first fortnight suffered comparatively little from the heat, the cool nights proving a great boon to every one. The chief maladies with which we had to contend were fever, diarrhœa, and septic sores.”

Private Massey’s account of the heat-wave is as follows:--

“In the blazing heat of a tropical sun we started, each man leading two horses, besides two haversacks, bandolier containing ninety rounds of ball ammunition, a water-bottle, and a rifle and bayonet.

“On and on we trekked, men falling out by the way with heat-stroke, many stark mad, and men were told off to hold the poor devils down, whilst the motor ambulances raced away with them to hospital at Ashar.... On getting into camp we tied up the horses, and after stables the squadron leader, Captain Eve, told us we had had a very hard time getting off the boat, and thanked us for what we had done, telling us that such things were likely to happen on active service. The same night the orderly corporal reported Private Tarr had died in hospital.... We were glad to get into the tents, and lie down, and drink lots of iced water.

“Next day, the 27th, Private Killackey was reported dead. Many others went sick the next few days, some of them dying....

“Thus ended the month of July, but from this time onwards things began to get better, and the men were getting better food, but there was a big percentage of sick amongst the Regiment, and men occasionally became delirious.”

It certainly was a rough beginning, but the men seem to have acclimatised rapidly. The Regiment had considerable work in training the hastily provided remounts, some of which stampeded and got lost; but by the end of September the training was completed, and the Thirteenth were almost fit for active service again. In October some regimental and Brigade drills and musketry put on the final polish. Doubtless the fine physique of the men had much to do with their quick return to health. Just before they landed to face the Mesopotamian heat, one of their officers had written:--

_2nd Lieutenant Guy Pedder--July 24._--“It was 100° in the shade this morning, but they say they often get 118° and 120° where we are going, and of course the trouble is, there isn’t much shade, so it is generally 150° to 160°....

“All the men wear next to nothing, probably a thin vest and a thin pair of pants: I never realised before what a magnificent lot of men they are, their physique is marvellous; of course, they ought to be, as they are the original old Army plus K.’s best men....

“There is a decent breeze this morning, and it’s just like a heat from an oven striking you in the face!...”

Some further letters from officers of the Regiment will show how the summer passed.

_Captain Eve--August 3._--“Here we are likely to remain for the next six weeks or so, training our horses and getting them fit. We are under canvas, and the horses in straw-matting stabling.... It is of course very hot, but it is very dry heat, and the nights are cool.... Dust and sand-storms are the worst thing....

“I have got young Pedder, a very nice fellow, transferred to me, and am now full up again with officers and have a very good squadron....”

_2nd Lieutenant Pedder--August 3._--“We are staying here for at least two months in a desert about four miles from where we disembarked.... I have got no news: there is none out here, every day is precisely the same as the one before.... There’s a hot sand-storm raging this morning: we get it pretty regularly every day. I have got hold of one very nice new horse; of course all these horses are untrained, so we have an awful job with them. Yes, Stirling is all right, and Munster, who fell out at Port Said, has rejoined us.”

_Captain Eve--August 3._--“We all wear neck-shades on our Cawnpore helmets, and all wear spine-pads and short sleeves. Later we shall wear our coats, but now no one does, and the men have khaki shorts too....

“I bought what they call a chágal in Bombay, a canvas bag for water, which you hang up full, and which keeps cool. We have all had them issued to us as well, so we are well off. They are invaluable, and the drinking-water is good, and we mostly live on that, some with lime-juice and tea....

“You have no idea the dust, heat, and discomfort in which I write. If the letter arrives in a mucky state you will know. You don’t know what a sand-storm is like, and that with real heat and all the sand turning to dirty mud under one’s hands and arms when one was sweating, and one’s indelible pencil staining one all over for the same reason.”

The heat, apparently, was more than uncomfortable, for in spite of the writer’s hearty appetite and contentment, and the sober joys of the “chágal” (which, by the way, rhymes approximately with “gargle,” as “jangal” becomes “jungle”), his letters for the next fortnight are written from hospital in Basra. Still they are contented enough.

“I shall be very comfortable indeed here, and shall stop till both my complaints are really right. This is a nice high, big, cool building right on the river, with electric fans, and light, and all that sort of thing--in fact, civilised comforts.”

The Thirteenth were certainly fortunate in that way, that they came to Mesopotamia too late to share the horrible discomforts and sufferings endured by the sick and wounded during the campaigns of 1914 and 1915, before the medical arrangements had been fully organised.

“The General came to see me last evening, and sat talking a long time. I thought it so nice of him. But he really is simply charming....

“I feel fairly well this morning--just a bit weak and tired, of course. The great thing is the comfort here. A tent in the desert is not a paradise when you are feeling ill.”

_Lieutenant Munster--August 4._--“The heat is not as bad as I expected. Dust is the great trouble at the moment....

“I do not think I can compare this place to anything I have ever seen. There are little creeks off the river, and the banks are covered with date-palms, but a little way from the river there is nothing but dust.

“A few Bombay shops have opened branches in the town, and we can get most things that we want--of course, at a high price.”

Lieutenant Munster must have had a contented disposition in regard to climate, for another officer writes:--

_Lieutenant Chrystall--August 4._--“We are close to the Garden of Eden. We cannot go outside from 9 till 5 owing to the heat, which is now 120° in the shade. The flies and mosquitoes are positively awful, and sand-storms are the order every day; water is at a premium and is rationed out, so you see everything in the Garden is not lovely.”

_Captain Eve--August 16._--“First all is well--no need to worry. I am convalescent, as I knew I soon should be, and am now (moved yesterday) in the Officers’ Convalescent Hospital, about four miles down the river from Basra, and feeling very fit and well. I expect I shall be here a week; it’s a really nice place--large two-storied bungalow facing on the river: I don’t intend going back till I am really fit.

“There is no news at all here: one is buried in an absolute backwater, and there is nothing at all going on out here, not a shot being fired by us or the Turks, I believe. Occasionally there are Arabs to be dealt with, but that’s all. They are always scrapping either among themselves or with some one else.... I believe we shall do no more fighting with the Turk--that he’ll most probably have chucked it before the time when we could do anything real here comes along. I look upon this just as an exile like India.... Sometimes it is hard to be really keen about the training one does, feeling as I do about things here, though there is really tons to be done.... I wish one could know more, but I will always be hopeful, and, oh! I pray for the end, though I hardly see it in sight yet. But one never knows.”

_2nd Lieutenant Guy Pedder--August 17._--“We had a small stampede here the other day, 3 troops clearing off into the desert; however, after many searchings we have retrieved all except 7 horses. The Shemal (strong north wind which covers everything with dust) is still going strong (supposed to last 40 days--it has been on 21 days now). We get a fortnight’s intense heat, then it gradually gets cold, and in December there is a freezing wind which goes through you apparently. You would laugh to see us walking about in the daytime (when we have to) in stockings, shorts, shirts, sunshade, spine-protector, goggles, and a large umbrella, khaki!”

_Captain Eve--August 21._--“The rest of the Brigade is arriving at once, but I doubt if we shall leave here for a month yet. It is dull, but really a good thing, for there is such a lot to be done, with all new horses and so on, and then one wants to get all one’s men well acclimatised. As it is, there are a good many still in hospital, but they’ll mostly be coming out soon.

“Lake, who has been in command out here, leaves to-day ... and I believe we are to get Cobbe, lately on the Staff with us, the Indian Cavalry Corps, in France.[19]

“The worst of the hot weather is about over, and it is slowly getting cooler now. It is anyhow infinitely better than India. Here at the base we are doing ourselves pretty well. It is up at the Front when trouble begins, owing to the great shortcomings in the transport.”

_August 23._--“First, I am out of hospital, and back at work with the Regiment, and ever so fit and well. Next, I have got Caprice,[20] and was riding her this morning.... Caprice is of course looking a bit pulled down and poor, but has still good stuff on her, and is very lively, and bright, and hungry, and searching me for sugar, which I haven’t got here.”

No, the end was not in sight yet, nor would be for two years longer, and meanwhile the Turk was to do much stiff fighting, and the writer was to ride Caprice yet through some long days of it.

_Lieutenant Chrystall--August 24._--“The heat is very bad to-day, and you find me writing this under a mosquito-net at 3 P.M. The flies are awful, and without a net writing would be impossible. I am lying practically stark naked, and am sweating buckets! Bathing is carried on in a very primitive form. I stand on a sack (after dark, of course) and simply sponge myself all over from a horse bucket--it is the best one can do, and it really is not half bad.”

_Captain Eve--August 30._--“Still a very large sick list among the men, but the weather is better and the nights cool.... Of course all the middle of the days one can do absolutely nothing. That is one of the great trials of the East to me....

“We have nothing definite about moving yet, nothing but rumours. The great difficulties out here are transport and supply, and at this time of year the river is at its lowest, which, of course, makes great extra trouble.”

These Mesopotamian rivers, the only real lines of communication, were in fact very difficult to use. In the hot season they became so shallow that even flat-bottomed steamers of small draught found it hard to avoid sticking on their innumerable loops and sand-banks. At the same time, though there was some dry ground, troops could not march on account of the heat. When, on the contrary, it rained, the dry ground rapidly turned to deep alluvial mud, or was even covered with water, while the rivers became too swift for boats unless very powerful and handy.

_Lieutenant Munster--August 31._--“We carry out the same routine--early parade, and then slack about in the tent till about 5 o’clock. Some people shoot in the evening. I believe there are some pigeons about. There is moderate fishing here as well.... Perhaps I shall begin to learn to knock a polo-ball about soon. A few people play in the desert in a rough sort of way.”

_September 7._--“We are still at the base. I have just got a pony. We are each allowed one to carry pack-saddles, and they have been selected with a view to polo: probably we shall play quite a lot later on.”

Poor boy. His experience of polo was to be a very short one.

_Lieutenant Chrystall--September 7._--“We are getting much cooler weather now--although the desert is not the ideal spot to live in.... The nights are generally good.”

_2nd Lieutenant Guy Pedder--September 14._--“Last Monday it was 112° in the shade in our hut, and yesterday it was never higher than 89°, and dropped to 45° at night; everybody turned into bed early, and most people pulled their beds into their tents and then slept in a blanket.... It is much cooler now altogether, and at night one realises how cold it is going to be in six weeks or so....”

_Lieutenant Chrystall--September 26._--“We have just got a patent fly-trap in the mess, a Japanese thing which slowly revolves a wooden wheel on which you place sugar and lime-juice: the flies are gradually dropped over into a cage. This is a great invention and catches them by the handful.... Our sick list is diminishing now, I am glad to say, as it does make work so hard for the men, having about five horses to look after. This country is remarkably good for horses, and they do very well except for a sort of biliary fever.”

_2nd Lieutenant J. O. P. Clarkson--Amara, Mesopotamia--October 15._--“I’ve been sent up here on a course for a few days. I came up by river. We passed Ezra’s tomb: there is not very much to see really; we were allowed inside, but had to take our shoes off. The boat was rather wide, rather like a Thames paddle-steamer, except they have a second storey to them, and are open all round. They are boats that used to be on the Irawaddi before the War. We churned up the river, with a barge in tow on either side, and in this manner we went right up-stream. We often bumped into the banks of the river, especially at the turns, and there are some very nasty ones. Some were absolutely hairpin turns, and some were lively S-bends, so between the two we had quite a lovely time bumping into the banks. After we had got a short way up the Tigris we went at a walking pace for a whole day--that was in the narrows. There are plenty of Arab villages, and the whole population would turn out offering us chickens and eggs. We had the band of the 104th going up on the same boat, so we had music every evening. The Arabs used to love the band, and would run alongside the boat and jump and dance and shout and clap their hands. One evening when the band was playing we came across a large band of Arabs building a railway or something; anyway when they heard the music they didn’t exactly ‘down tools,’ but picked them up, stopped work, and came rushing up and down and waved their spades, &c., in the air.

“We are billeted in an Arab house, and on the other side is the Club, which has been well organised. There are several concert troupes here, and they are very good.”

_Captain Eve--October 18._--“We have not moved yet, but I hope and think we shan’t be long. It is still very hot in the afternoons, but the mornings are good now, and so are the nights. We are very busy and all very fit, but very heartily sick of this place, and looking forward to a move, and to the march, which should be great fun--they always are--and to the chance of some good shooting _en route_. We are ready, but have no orders yet. The river is still very low, but should rise a foot next month. This makes all the difference. This whole campaign is a question of transport and supplies--the great difficulty of getting the latter.

“I don’t expect we go farther than Amara, a ten days’ march, at present, as that is, I fancy, the farthest point which full supplies reach yet. But anyhow that will be part way, and a welcome change. This spot is, of course, the worst out here for climate. It is degrees cooler and healthier farther up. Still we have a very small sick list now, though we have lost a lot of men since we got here.

“Horses do wonderfully well here, and look, and are, as fit as fleas. Of course they are on a full and very good ration here, so they ought to do well. It’s for their sakes entirely that I don’t want to go farther up than full supplies are getting to. I can imagine no greater misery than seeing one’s horses slowly starving on half rations.... I go on the river in the evening sometimes, generally in a _bellum_ (native boat) ... something like a gondola, worked by punting or paddles. The river is full of life these days, tremendous activity, and there is always something to see. Also it’s a great relief after the desert.”

_2nd Lieutenant Guy Pedder--October 25._--“Anniversary of Balaclava, 1854. To-day is a whole holiday, as the Regiment took part in the charge of the Light Brigade. This evening there’s a hockey match, officers _v._ sergeants. I am playing, but rather funk it, as I’m so stiff after playing ‘D _v._ B’ Squadron yesterday. It was a draw, 0--0. We went out grouse-shooting this morning.”

_Lieutenant Chrystall--October 30._--“Our messing arrangements out here are rather funny. I have to beg, borrow, or steal firewood, as there is absolutely not a stick in the country; everything has to come from India, even firewood. Then meat is awfully scarce, and of course tough, like leather. You also see me chasing a poor unfortunate misshapen chicken, and falling over a tent rope in endeavouring to collar it, in true ‘Rugger’ style.”

_2nd Lieutenant Guy Pedder--November 2._--“We really are moving to-morrow and have got a long march in front of us. It is very hot again, but the nights are very cold. Just been given (every officer gets one on going up-country) a sackful of war gifts--thick pyjamas, boots, fly-nets, shaving-soap, books, eatables, &c., &c.--ripping things.... Played polo for the Regiment yesterday, and a very good farewell concert last night.”

So ended the summer training in camp, and the comparative inaction for the Thirteenth. Much of all this may seem trivial, and no real part of the doings of the Regiment in the Great War. But war, and especially a war of such magnitude, cannot be all fighting. The greater part of any campaign is made up of comparatively peaceful days, during which the soldier sees no shot fired. They are none the less an important time, full of work, and yet not without rest and pleasure, all of which have much to do with his fitness when the fighting days come upon him. The months spent in the desert camp at Basra, far from the front, had not been wasted. The end of them found the Thirteenth in good health and spirits, with men hardened to the climate and horses properly trained. They had two trying years in front of them, years in which they were to see much rough fighting and hardship. It was fortunate for them that they had had this breathing space before being thrown into the actual conflict.