Read Ebook: Parassiti: Commedia in tre atti by Antona Traversi Camillo

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The strategical importance of Kut-el-Amarah lies in the fact that it is at the junction of the Shatt-el-Hai with the Tigris. The force which controls Kut has the choice of movement down the Hai or the Tigris at will, and this advantage was with the Turk.

The summer was rapidly advancing with its awful heat and the enemy, unable to press his advantage any further, was quite willing to remain in his trenches and await events. And so for seven months both sides resorted to trench warfare, and sat down facing each other through the most trying period of the year.

The Secretary of State made the following announcement: "General Lake reports on May 20th that the right bank of the Tigris is clear of the enemy as far as the Shatt-el-Hai, except for small rear-guards covering the bridge over the Hai some 500 yards below its junction with the Tigris. Our main force on this bank has reached the line Magasis-Dujailah. On the left bank the enemy are reported to be still occupying the San-i-yat position. Weather is intensely hot and trying, and temperature during the last few days has been over 100 degrees in the shade."

Owing to the melting of the snows in Asia Minor the Tigris is at its highest in the spring and early summer and the left of our lines stretched to the water edge. The Suwakie marsh is also very full at this season and forms a natural protection to the right flank of the San-i-yat position. Consequently as the front held was under two miles the lines could be safely held by one Brigade at a time, with the other two in reserve. The procedure adopted during the summer months was for one Brigade to hold the trenches, one Brigade in the forward area rest camp, and the other the rearward area rest camp, situated at the Bridgehead opposite Arab Village, some six miles behind the firing line.

Fresh troops were arriving in the country daily, drafts to different regiments to make up for those killed, wounded and sick. A great number coming direct from England and Scotland and quite unaccustomed to the great heat went sick immediately on arrival in the country.

These two battalions had served together as the Highland Battalion during a period of their history that will never be forgotten. Close friends in India, the two battalions had now fought shoulder to shoulder in many a hard-fought action, they had captured and defended trenches together under conditions sometimes so desperate that only their faith and confidence in each other enabled the two regiments not only to maintain their glorious traditions but also to enhance their reputation. No jealousy marred the good feeling between officers and men; there was nothing but goodwill. We all had absolute trust in Colonel Thompson, and Colonel Wauchope has often said he always found the same spirit, the same wholehearted readiness to perform every duty equally amongst both units. In some ways the Platoon, in some ways the Division is the tactical unit of the British Army, but by tradition, custom and wholesome practise the living organism is the Battalion, and the Commander who ignores that fact loses a source of strength that no other factor fills. It was only the strength of fellowship and their confidence in their two commanders that enabled these two famous regiments to work and fight under every adverse circumstance so wholeheartedly and with the single-minded devotion which they always showed during these trying times.

The bond of sentiment holds when other bonds fail. To all to whom regimental feeling appeals there is no sight like the swing of the kilt, no sound like the sound of the pipes. Men of both regiments might often recall how they had charged forward in France, the pipers leading the way, and no body of men had themselves shewn greater gallantry or inspired others with their spirit more than the regimental pipers. Yet even in war the days of battle are few and the days of trial many, and many a time at reveill? and retreat, on the march and in camp has the sound of the massed pipers stirred our memories and stoutened our hearts to face whatever danger or hardship lay before. The old Crimean reveill? was still heard, but a new reveill?, "The Highland Regiment in Mesopotamia," arranged by Pipe-Major Keith, was played more often. During a long march "Scotland's my Ain Hame," and "Neil Gow's Farewell to Whiskey" were often call for, and, on reaching camp, before striking up with "The Blue Bonnets," the pipers always played the Colonel's favourite air, "After the Battle."

In these days lack of tents, and the excessive heat were minor troubles compared to the prevalence of sickness and constant flow of casualties. Whatever the strength of the Battalion, the duties had to be performed. Again and again men left their turn of sentry duty only to take part in one of the innumerable but essential working parties. Over and over again men had to work throughout the cooler hours of the twenty-four, and pick up what rest they might in the heat and glare, amid the dust and flies, of midday. But if there was much sickness there was no grumbling, and the energy and thoroughness with which all duties were performed will remain for all time a lasting credit to the men of the Regiment. The average age of the Company Commanders was one and twenty, yet the C. O. told me that never was a Colonel better served in this and every respect. The Adjutant was under twenty, but no more capable or devoted officer was ever Adjutant to the Regiment. The Sergeant Major was absent sick, and during part of the time there were but four sergeants remaining with the Battalion; but the young men specially selected to fill the vacancies, responded to the call, accepted all their responsibilities, and never was the standard of discipline or smartness higher in the Battalion. Of the many awards given to the Battalion I doubt if any were better deserved than the D.S.O. gained by the Adjutant, and the two Military Crosses awarded in succession to our two Regimental Sergeant-Majors. To these might well be added the four D.C.Ms. gained by the four Sergeant-Bombers, two of whom added a bar to their medals, and unsurpassed by any, the D.C.M., with the bar, gained by the Stretcher-Bearer Sergeant.

On August 28th, General Maude took over command and his wonderful capacity for administration was soon manifested. Also more boats were arriving for river transport, more supplies, both Medical and Military, were being sent out. Control of the campaign was taken over by the War Office. Canteens were established at different points, enabling both officers and men to buy small luxuries, and the Y.M.C.A. had branches established at many places. The country will never be able to thank the Y.M.C.A. enough for what they did for its soldiers in Mesopotamia.

The Hospitals were being rapidly well established, and excellent work was being done to provide all necessary accommodation and comfort for sick men and wounded. Casualty Clearing Stations were in full swing, and hundreds of men were sent down the line from hospital to hospital, in many cases to eventually be sent to India in an endeavour to be restored to health after having endured all sorts of privations and hardships in Mesopotamia. An excellent Officers' Hospital was established at Amara, and went under the name of the "Rawal-Pindi Hospital." It was well run and had a large and capable staff. There were other hospitals at Amara for officers and men and improvements were being added daily.

There was a large number of hospitals in Basrah and a very fine one called the Beit Naama Hospital about six miles below Basrah, beautifully situated on the banks of the river and surrounded by palm trees, was opened in June 1916 to try and relieve the pressure of officers coming down river, which No. 3 British General Hospital could not easily cope with. This place was fitted up with electric light and electric fans, hot and cold water baths, lift, ice and soda water factories, up-to-date "X" Ray installation and an Operating Theatre for surgical cases.

They took in on an average about 135 officers a month and sent on an average 28 to India. It had accommodation for 100 officers and had a staff of three Medical Officers, a Matron and seven Sisters. The work done by the Nursing Sisters in this country, the untiring devotion to duty displayed under most trying climatic conditions when the temperature rose to nearly 130 degrees in the shade, is beyond all praise, and only those who have seen and suffered in this campaign should be competent to judge.

All these improvements, all these reinforcements, all these extra supplies could have but one meaning and but one end in view, and that was as soon as the summer heat was over in the words of Nelson's famous signal to "engage the enemy more closely."

The time spent out of the trenches was no holiday, one talked of going back to the Rest Camp. But Rest Camp was only a kindly term; it did not mean, as one might be led to believe, a delightful camp where comfortable chairs and well-served meals were supplied to tired and war-worn officers and men. No such thing; in fact so much the opposite was the case that one often heard it remarked that one got far more rest in the trenches than in any Rest Camp at the immediate front. The Colonel of the Regiment was a thruster. He never wasted a moment himself and would have his regiment the same. On the great Bronze Gong of one of our Battalions is engraved "I mark the hours, Do you?" Certainly the Colonel of the 2nd Battalion did. It was too hot for any drill or outside parades between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., so everyone gasped for air inside their tents during those awful hours when the temperature rose to 124? in the shade, and the one thing one prayed for was the hastening of sunset; but if the officers or men slept or tried to sleep during those trying hours it was not so with the Colonel, at almost any time one visited his tent it was to find him busy; he did not seem to know what it was to suffer from fatigue, and during all those trying summer months, when with one solitary exception every officer was off duty ill for some period of time, however short, the Commanding Officer was only confined to his tent for half a day. Duties commenced soon after sunrise and very often before, every opportunity being taken to make as much use of the coolest and light hours of the 24. A very strict course of intensive training was gone through and the results were to make themselves manifest early the next year. Bombing was practiced morning and night. Bayonet fighting was excelled in, and attacks by bombers and bayonetmen were practiced with frequency in trenches especially prepared for the purpose. Officers were trained to march by compass and stars and some were even given a course of riding lessons, nothing being left to chance. The long hot trying summer was not wasted; it was a preparation for what was to come. Long marches were out of the question, but short night marches were often practiced, sometimes by the Battalion alone, sometimes by the whole Brigade with an attack at dawn. These manoeuvres were very popular with everyone; it was possible to enjoy moving about in the cool of the night and the quietness and silence with which it was possible for a whole Regiment to advance on to a supposed enemy position often impressed one. Having marched to a certain point from which an attack was to be delivered, the pre-arranged signal having been given, the bagpipes would burst forth into music and with a wild cheer the whole Regiment would charge forward in wave after wave and the supposed enemy driven from their stronghold. A few moments' rest would be given and the C. O. would call his officers around him and explain, praise or condemn various things which had struck him and, as the sun rose over the Pusht-i-Kuh hills, we would march back to camp. A keen rivalry and competition was established among the various platoons as to which would mount the best guard, and a very searching examination was conducted each evening by the Adjutant and Sergeant-Major. This led to great interest being taken by the whole Battalion in the mounting of the guard, and the smartness of the guard increased by leaps and bounds. The heat, of course, found its victims and in spite of all precautions there was a fair amount of sickness during the summer; it was impossible to avoid it. Great care was taken to see that all drinking water was properly chlorinated, and special waterproof tanks were erected on the river banks. If anyone went sick they were almost immediately sent to the Field Hospital where they got every possible attention. All through the summer the Battalion was very much below strength and the work fell heavily on those remaining.

It was decided to hold "Highland Sports" on Wednesday, August 30th, and a number of other units, both British and Indian, were asked to take part. A suitable piece of ground was chosen some five miles behind the firing line, and on the day a great concourse of people assembled. The Corps Commander honoured the Regiment and several Generals from other Brigades were also present, our own Brigadier being an interested spectator. The events were keenly contested and the honours were fairly evenly divided. We won the Highland Dancing with a very fine exhibition. Another Highland unit carried off the board jump with a record leap. The officers "Donkey Fight", a scrap "Five aside" between our officers and those of another Highland unit caused huge delight and amusement and before many moments blood was flowing freely. The mile race by the Indian Regiments drew a big crowd and a large number of entries and a great race was won by the Punjabis. The inter-company cross country run was a keen contest. 13 men were chosen from each company, with one officer in charge and an N. C. O. They had to run in full kit and packs also carrying rifles and a severe course of training was gone through. P. P. B. Miller Stirling commanded one company, the brothers Smythe each commanded other companies. I forget who commanded the fourth company. The average time was under ten minutes over a two-mile course, and the remarkable thing showing the uniformity of training was that there was scarcely two minutes' difference in time between any company. But the event of the day was the 'tug-of-war' between the two Highland Regiments. It was the best tug-of-war that many of us had ever witnessed. The sides had been carefully picked and well trained. Officers and men cheered on their respective regiments, the crowd of onlookers swelled till the whole Brigade was looking on in feverish suspense, and so even were the sides that for nearly five minutes not an inch of ground was lost or gained. The cheering ceased and the silence became intense; one could see the veins standing out on the competitors' foreheads and perspiration pouring off their faces, each man pulling to the last ounce, then our coach shouted "come away" and as if by magic they gave a convulsive pull and gained a foot, the spell was broken, and the men of our Regiment looking on gave a wild cheer. In a second everyone was shouting for their side, but slowly, very slowly, inch by inch they were winning, they would lose a foot and then gain two, till after one of the sternest pulls in the history of the Regiment, our opponents crossed the line and we were victors. Both sides sank exhausted to the ground as their Regiments cheered them to the echo. Perhaps some daring Turkish flying man heard that brave cheer from his observation car far above and thought the mad English were practising some new game to worry his existence. That evening at a concert given by the Regiment the General made a speech and congratulated the two teams on the best tug-of war he had ever seen, congratulating them on their splendid staying powers and for the tenacity and determination they had displayed, which he remarked augured ill for the Turk in the coming months. History records how true was his prophesy. Our Brigadier was General Charles Norie whose gallantry in the field was well-known, as in some strange way gallantry ever is known, to every man who served under him. And well loved was Charles Norie. He had lost an arm fighting on the Indian frontier. There have been many depressing optimists since August 1914 who every Autumn swear the war will end next spring, and every spring know it cannot last beyond next autumn. An answer given by one of our Sergeants was consonant to the serene spirit and resolution that filled the regiment and bid defiance to the future. Glancing at the General waving his one arm in the air, he answered some faint-hearted hopeful, "I'm thinking the war will not be over till Norie claps his hands." It is in that spirit that the armies of England win their way through at whatever cost.

That evening the Colonel gave a dinner party and the powers of the Mess President were taxed to the utmost limit. Nearly 40 sat down, the Mess staff rose to the occasion, and the cook turned out things we had never seen before. The next day the Commanding Officer remarked at dinner "Really, P.M.C., I don't at all know why when we have 2 or 3 Generals to dinner you can give us nice white table cloths but at other times it is only bare boards", "Well Sir," he hesitatingly replied, "they were two of Stewart's sheets." Sundays were usually fairly slack days. I sometimes thought that they could have been even slacker, it being so absolutely necessary to have one day's rest a week. Church Parade would be held in the early morning, and another service at 6 in the evening after the sun had set. These evening services were very impressive; we would form round in a half circle sitting on the grass, or what formed a substitute for grass, with the Padre in the middle. The Commanding Officer would sit at one end of the half circle either amongst his officers or at the other end amongst the men, and the Padre knowing well the limits of human endurance and the severe test that the great heat was putting us to, never preached too long a sermon. We all loved him, and as he had been with the Regiment for a dozen years he knew everyone and about everyone, and when he went sick after the great advance on Baghdad, all felt that they had temporarily lost a friend. We were miles away from any village and still further from any town, so there was no one to visit on Sundays and no social life; unlike our comrades in France we were unable to enjoy the hospitality of a friendly population or look forward to going home on leave. We were out here and we knew it meant for months or may be years. Leave in a restricted form was granted to India during the 1916 summer, but that is going from one hot country to another and, though appreciated, could not be compared to going home. We knew two or three days in advance, the day that we would go up to the trenches for our spell, and we usually went in at the commencement of the month, so had the advantage, or disadvantage as it sometimes proved, of having a full moon. The distance to march was about three miles before we reached the end of the communication trench and we never started till late in the afternoon. All that day we were busy preparing our trench kits and packing up the necessary kit which had to be as little as possible. We always marched up in kilts and marched out in kilts, but during our stay there our clothes were the irreducible minimum, shorts and shirts. I well remember my first spell in the trenches of the famous Sanniyat position. We usually held the centre of the line with an Indian Regiment on either side and one in reserve. We left camp soon after seven, the night was one of those wonderful clear still moonlight nights for which this country is justly famous. It was difficult to imagine before one came within sound of rifle fire that a grim struggle was being enacted a mile or so in front, everything was still quiet and peaceful, there were no villages to pass through on our way up, it was simply open flat country with a river on one side and a marsh on the other, a long dusty road leading from the Rest Camps to the rear of the trenches. A light was burning in Brigade Headquarters and a sentry on duty and we silently filed up the long communication trench which was deep in dust as rain had not fallen for months. We passed fatigue parties coming down for rations and the dust was most distressing. The relief of trenches is usually a long and tedious process--handing over stores, getting receipts, pointing out anything of exceptional interest and generally getting settled down for ten or fourteen days. The Regimental Headquarters were about 200 yards behind the front line and connected up by telephone and various companies and platoons took it in turn to do their round of duty in the front line. I think in the trenches you come to know men as you can get to know them in no other place, the reserve of civilization is often thrown off and you know a man for what he is, not for what he would have you think he is. I remember sitting one night on the fire step of the front line trench and having a long and interesting talk with a Sergeant about Nigeria. He was telling me all about his life out there before the war, and the part he took in the Cameroon Campaign. Back in a Rest Camp he would never have got so communicative, but when one knows that one's lives are dependant on each other a close comradeship often results between both officers and men. This gallant fellow some months later was killed as his company was advancing to attack a Turkish position after the capture of Baghdad. I always feel glad I had that talk with him.

The nights in the trenches were the busiest time not only on account of darkness but also on account of coolness. At 9 o'clock in the morning an inspection of rifles and kit would be held by the Company Officers, after which the whole Company would retire to dug-outs in the reserve front line trenches, 10 yards behind the fire trench and then endeavour to get through the day as well as possible. The dug-outs had not the comforts of present day dug-outs on the Western Front. The only roof we had was sail cloth, so if a shell happened to strike it the results were fatal. This sail cloth kept the sun off, but the heat was terrific. Sentries only, and one officer per Company were kept on duty during the day in the front line, where there was not a yard of shade, the sun beat down with relentless vigour and gradually as the day wore on the temperature would rise to 120 degrees in the shade and 160 degrees in the sun and there was no shade. And this was not for a day or two days but week after week. After 9 o'clock in the morning a death-like stillness would creep over everything, both sides suffering too much to be able to add any more suffering to each other. The stillness would be broken now and again by the crack of a sniper's rifle and one dare not look over the parapet. In the early mornings aeroplanes would fly over the lines but without any great show of activity on either side; the heat kept everything quiet. The very flies are scarce in the hottest months, only the sandflies torment one at night, and so the day gradually passes, and as one goes the round to see everything is in order and one sees the men stretched out in their dug-outs, reading, trying to sleep, very few talking and all suffering, one remembers with what irritation one had read in a famous London daily paper, a query--why the Mesopotamian Campaign had come to an end during the summer, why no advance was heard of. One longed to put the writer of that article over the parapet in the sun where within five minutes or less, he would have his question answered. At times, on a hot parching day lying in one's dug-out, one would hear a great flutter of wings as a flight of cranes or wild geese flew over our lines, immediately followed by a loud fusillade of rifle fire as the sentries endeavoured to bring one down; several times a goose was brought down, and I well remember the annoyance of an officer when a goose he had winged managed to flutter across into the Turkish lines. The heat was at the maximum between 2 and 3 when we could almost boil oil in the sun. At 4 o'clock things livened up somewhat and at 5-30 everyone stood ready in the front line awaiting any possible attack but neither side showed any intention of attacking. Night duties were arranged, parapets had to be mended, new trenches dug, barbed wire put out and all the necessary work in connection with trench warfare continued. Officers patrols were regularly sent out into "No Man's Land" to examine the enemy's wire and find out if he were sapping forward. As the summer advanced the marsh receded on the left of the enemy's line, and this gave our scouts an opportunity to patrol and harass the Turks by penetrating in rear of their left flank. Much gallant work was done in this direction and much credit gained by the Regiment, for the Colonel considered that a good test of the fighting energy of a Company was the vigour of its patrol duties, and a good number of the Turkish sentries, I feel sure, agreed with him. The usual night "Hate" started about six when both sides opened fire, rifle and machine gun, on the opposite trenches, this was kept up all night, some nights would be more lively than others, some nights would be comparatively quiet, but now and again an artillery bombardment would take place, when we always seemed to give more than we got. Both we and the Turk were very free with rifle grenades, but what troubled us most was a special pattern of trench mortar that threw a heavy bomb over quarter of a mile. One night I remember one landed in and blew up the whole of the regimental cookhouse; luckily the cooks were sleeping elsewhere and it was only the dixies that suffered.

I have always considered myself a very light sleeper, but one evening I had cause to come to another conclusion. I had just come off duty from the front line and was speaking to a brother officer outside my dug-out about 9 o'clock when suddenly we opened artillery fire on the Turkish position with considerable vigour, and they replied but in a milder form. I retired and lay down in my dug-out listening to the shells whistling above and praying to Providence that none would land on my sail cloth roof. In about half an hour the bombardment ceased and one wondered what damage had been done and how many lives lost. I then slept. At breakfast the next morning remarking on the bombardment I was asked "which"? "Which?" I replied, "why last night's of course," "Yes, but the first or second?" "Well, I only heard one," I said. "Oh! another took place at midnight," I was informed. I had slept through it and had not heard a sound. So trench life must tire one out somewhat to enable one to sleep so soundly as to be unaware of a bombardment. On still nights when possible the very perfection of the night made men less inclined to fire rifles at each other's trenches. I used to hear a Turk singing. He had a deep rich voice and I often stood in the front line or in a communication trench listening to him as his voice carried across "No Man's Land" from the Turkish line 120 yards away. It used to fascinate me quite a lot and one felt that under the eastern sky, in the land of Sinbad the Sailor and Omar Khayyam that war had not quite killed romance. I wonder what happened to that singer. I wonder if in the great push to Baghdad and beyond he was killed or if he is now singing to his fellow-prisoners in captivity in India, or if he is still cheering on his comrades in the front line further up the Tigris. I don't suppose one will ever know, but if he should ever read these lines I would like him to know he not only cheered his own side but gave pleasure to at least one of his enemies.

A flag of truce was always an interesting event. A white flag would be prominently displayed by one side above the trench and kept there till the other side responded and also hoisted a flag, and two or three officers would go out from either side meeting in the middle of "No Man's Land" where the business was discussed. Sometimes it would be simply handing over a letter or letters; other times the business would take longer. A truce of some hours' duration would sometimes be arranged. The longest I remember was for 24 hours when we exchanged sick prisoners; but there was no fraternizing; we might sit on the parapet of our trench and the Turk would do the same; but there was no attempt made to be friendly; the Turk knew and so did we that within a few short months we would be at death grips with each other and that one side or the other would be driven out of the present strong positions we had taken up; but whichever side won, the losses of both would be great and so we sat and looked at each other during those short respites, and both sides adhered strictly to the truce. When it expired it was not safe to show even a helmet over the parapet. The Colonel told me that several times the same Turkish officer brought the flag of truce. He spoke French easily and said he had been fighting more or less continuously the last eight years--in the Iraq against Arabs, in Tripoli against the Italians, in Gallipoli, and now on the Tigris against the British. He had been wounded four times, and was again wounded and taken prisoner by us during the advance, 1917. In 1916 we were fighting a foe, elated by his success at Kut, and it was only after our victories in the spring of 1917, that he showed any signs of war weariness.

One hot and sunny morning I was speaking to one of our sentries who had been watching a Turk appear above their parapet and had already had one shot at him and was waiting to get another and I had scarcely moved a 100 yards down the trench when the unfortunate sentry having looked over too far received a bullet clean through his head. Once or twice during the hot weather bombing parties went over for short raids but without very much success and very little advantage.

I witnessed no instance of gas being used but precautions were taken and gas helmets issued with orders that they must always be carried whilst in the fire zone. Gongs were placed at intervals all along the front line and had to be sounded at the first alarm, but fortunately that alarm never came.

Everything was ready. The Regiment was in excellent form and fettle, highly trained and efficient, and the powers that be knew that it could be depended on to a man. The first rains had fallen and it was cool without being cold. Mesopotamia takes a long time to cool after the great summer heat and does not usually get very cold till January, and on December 13th the British offensive began on the right bank of the Tigris near Kut, and very severe fighting took place. It was not till February 1917 that the last Turkish position on this bank was captured. In the meantime, on the left bank, the position for the moment remained much the same. Limpits could not cling with greater tenacity to their native rock than the Turks stuck to their position at San-i-yat. It would seem as if nothing could drive them out from this, the strongest position in Mesopotamia. 'Xmas Day and New Year's Day were spent out of the trenches, but in the forward area. Events were moving rapidly on the other bank, but the marvellous secrecy with which the Commander-in-Chief kept all his plans inspired the greatest confidence in those under him. No one knew his plans; everything was a dead secret; it was even rumoured that his immediate staff were often kept in ignorance up to the last moment, but all ranks had confidence. On January 21st at 4 p.m. we struck camp at Faliyeh, crossed the river and for 10 days occupied a position along the Narrows from Chahela Mounds to near Beit-a-Essa, a distance of about five miles, establishing picquets along the line. This was a most welcome change. We had been on one side of the river for practically a whole year and new duties and new country broke the monotony. Each Company was divided up. Three Companies holding the line along the Tigris bank and the fourth in reserve. Casualties were very light and Captain Haldane did excellent work sniping and kept the enemy well in hand. The gunners were good enough to remark that a great change was noticeable since the line had been taken over by us; this was probably a little bit of flattery on the part of the Artillery men, but it was quite welcome. During these days the Commanding Officer was an unknown quantity as one never knew where he would next appear on the five-mile line. I think that he must have known every inch of it. We were relieved by another Highland Regiment and a very pleasant ten days came to an end with a march back across the river to the forward area and back to the now muddy trench at San-i-yat. It was now bitterly cold and uncomfortable at night and the mud in the trench almost as bad as the dust in the summer. Bombardments were of daily occurrence and the Turk must have had a most uncomfortable January. About the middle of February the Army Commander determined to make a combined attack with one force at the Shumran bend, and with one of our brigades at San-i-yat. The attack at San-i-yat was delivered by two Indian Battalions of our Brigade under great disadvantages, and though at first successful, the attackers were eventually compelled to withdraw back to our lines. Every officer and every man regretted that the Battalion had not been selected to take part in the attack in the first instance, and were eager to lead the Brigade in another assault. This indeed was the wish of the whole Brigade, and orders in fact were issued to that effect, but two days later, when every arrangement had been completed, it was decided to make the attack with a fresh Brigade and ours was withdrawn and held as a reserve.

Before leaving the trenches, however, the Colonel ordered two officer's patrols to go out the last night to examine the enemy's wire and locate, if possible, the position of their machine guns, thinking thus to assist the attack of the coming Brigade. Of these patrols one was led by Lieut. Cowie and met with rather exciting adventures. Cowie and two scouts crawled across "No Man's Land" to within 20 yards of the Turkish trench without mishap. Then creeping along the enemy's wire they spotted a machine gun with the team standing beside it. Right into this group the three threw three grenades, wounding several Turks as we afterwards learned. Inevitably the alarm was given, rifle fire broke out in all directions and, before the patrol could make good their escape, Cowie and one of his men were hit. The Turks saw the two figures lying close to their own wire, jumped the parapet, and made both prisoners, and carried them within their lines. They were well treated, if not well fed, by their captors, and two days later when the retirement began were moved out of the Turkish hospital on to a steamer. This boat was one of two that when trying to escape some days later up the Tigris were captured, after a short but severe engagement, by our gunboats. Cowie, in the confusion of the fight, forced the pilot of his steamer to run her aground and, though most of the Turks effected their escape, Cowie and his orderly instead of continuing their journey to Aleppo, found themselves at General Headquarters attended to by several surgeons and Intelligence Officers, anxious to dress their wounds and hear their story.

On the 22nd the attack was delivered by a battalion of Highlanders and a Punjabi battalion. Under a heavy artillery bombardment they gained the enemy's first line without much loss. Then after severe fighting they captured the enemy's second line and consolidated their position. The Turks made several counter attacks and though nothing could move the Highlanders, the position on the left was not quite secure. Our battalion was therefore ordered back to the trenches, and the Colonel obtained leave to send two platoons under Captain Young across to the Turkish position in order to strengthen the left of our new line. Captain Young was wounded, but the two platoons that night and the following day held the line down to the river where a counter attack was most expected.

The Colonel asked leave to push forward that day, but it was not till nightfall that two battalions of our Brigade were ordered to pass through the other Brigade and take the enemy's 4th line. It was necessarily a slow business moving up unknown trenches at night, and the battalion on our left met with considerable resistance. However, if progress was slow it was sure, our patrols pushed steadily forward, the enemy's snipers were forced back and before dawn the whole San-i-yat position was in our hands, and the Turks in full retreat. Thus fell this position which for ten long months had held us up, and had claimed such a big toll of lives from both sides. The sky was clear and without cloud. The same sun shone out on victors as on vanquished, on pursued and pursuers. One wondered how often, ten months before, the gallant defenders of Kut had looked towards this position longing, hoping, praying for its capture which was only now accomplished. Meanwhile after very hard fighting the Tigris had been bridged at Shumran above Kut and our infantry was pouring across. Patrols of the 2nd Battalion were immediately sent forward towards the Nakhailat position some two miles further east and the two leading companies followed in attack formation. An Indian battalion conformed to our movements on the left, while the leading battalions of the other Brigade began to appear on our right rear. None of our men will ever forget the scene that morning, nor the feeling of freedom and elation as our lines passed over trench after trench now deserted by the Turks, and it was these trenches over which we were now so casually advancing that we had been anxiously watching from behind our parapet for nearly a year. It seemed increditable, but we passed by trenches filled with Turkish dead. We passed several of the heavy minenwerfers whose shells had been a source of such trouble and loss the last few months, and before 8 a.m. after some little sniping and the capture of a few prisoners the Nakhailat position was also ours. Here a pause was made by order of the General to give time to another Brigade to secure our right flank, and then in conjunction with the Indians on our left the Regiment advanced in attack formation with patrols well ahead against the Suwada position, but the crossing of the Shumran Bend the day before had rendered resistance impossible and, after a little firing and the capture of a few more prisoners, the last of the Turkish trenches fell into our hands before noon.

The Divisional Commander now ordered a halt. An order doubtless necessary, but that was somewhat reluctantly obeyed, the troops being anxious to get in touch with their vanishing foe, and it was not till 4 p.m. that an order came to send two patrols some four miles further north to the Horse Shoe lake. As it was uncertain what they might encounter the Commanding Officer sent forward four platoons and they reached the Nwhrwan Ridge without opposition. Our Colonel proposed that the rest of the Brigade should push forward after the enemy, but instead of this patrols were brought back about midnight, and it was not till the next day that the line of the Dahra Canal was taken up by the Division, the Turks by then being many miles to the north.

On February 24th Kut fell in the hands of the British and the King cabled to the Army Commander:

When some five months later I stood on the summit of Kut's famous minaret, from which Briton and Turk had each in their turn observed the enemy closing in on them, and from which one could see the junction of the Hai with the Tigris now very low, the ruins of what was the Liquorice Factory, and miles away Es Sinn and San-i-yat, it was impossible not to be impressed and to feel a certain sadness and yet a great admiration for all those lives which had been so freely given to uphold the honour of the flag and the dignity of the Empire, and how when failure after failure had dogged our steps, grit and perseverance had at last won the day, and success crowned our efforts. Kut was ours; it must have cheered those lonely prisoners in captivity in the fastnesses of Asia Minor when the news eventually leaked through that their defeat was avenged and that the flag which Townshend had been compelled to haul down once again flew over the small but famous village to the Banks of the Tigris.

Pursuing is only slightly less arduous than being pursued, and in his despatches well might the Army Commander have quoted those famous words used centuries before by another great leader when an equally strenuous pursuit was in progress. 'Faint yet pursuing'. One has to remember that these same troops had been cooped up in trenches for nearly a year, and to suddenly be called upon to take a prominent part in such a pursuit as was now in progress was no ordinary strain. Not a man in No. 1. Platoon fell out on the march from San-i-yat to Baghdad, a record of which the platoon and its officer might well be proud. The going was bad, there was no road as one understands a road in England, it was plain flat open country. A stay was made at Dahra and then a night march carried us to Shumran, where there were signs of a cavalry fight and prisoners were being brought in.

The Brigade had orders to clear the battlefield and booty of all kinds, guns and ammunition were collected, rifles which had been thrown away, as it is easier to run without one than with, and what little surplus kit the Turk possessed had been discarded, so that his flight might not be impeded; they were all out for Baghdad and we were all out after them, but we were out-running our Transport and Supplies, and the meals during the great pursuit were both scanty and irregular, but who cared, so long as we had enough to carry us on. All England was looking on, and day by day following our progress with feverish interest. "Is Baghdad going to be taken" was on everyone's lips. Beards were making their appearance even on the youngest soldiers' chins, numbers of men were being knocked up by the continuous strain and a four days' halt was called at Sheik Jaad, No. 1 Company being sent forward to Beghailah. Still pressing forward we reached Azizie, 46 miles from Baghdad, and the total number of prisoners since the advance now mounted to well over 5,000. Turkish depots and stores at many points were in flames, 38 guns, many machine guns, trench mortars, ships, tugs and barges, miscellaneous river craft and bridging material fell into our hands.

Booty was strewn over 80 miles of country and the Arabs living in the neighbourhood must have secured sufficient goods of various description to last them the rest of their lives.

Zeur, Bustan, then Ctesiphon were all passed, there being no time or opportunity to stay and examine the famous arch. But as we halted for the night beside the magnificent ruin, one could but reflect on the ironies of a soldier's fortune. Here it was, long before the arch was built, that the Emperor Julian, marching from Constantinople, had been forced to halt his army, and met with disaster and death; and under the ruins of this great arch Townshend, advancing from Basra, had engaged in the battle that eventually brought his division to disaster and captivity. And now Maude, encamped for the night beside the ancient city walls, was pressing forward with his whole force to the capture of Baghdad and Samarra.

The next morning, the 9th of March, we were glad of a short march to Bawi. The Division crossed the Tigris by a pontoon bridge that night; our Brigade being in reserve. After a hard march we reached Shawa Khan, the enemy retiring before us and our Brigade came under shell fire only. The following day was a very trying one. A gale was blowing right in our faces, and the dust was so thick that our movements on that day resembled some horrible night march. We manoeuvred the whole day, and twice the orders for attack were cancelled owing to the difficulty of gaining contact with the enemy. Towards evening we struck the Euphrates-Baghdad Railway and were preparing to attack when orders came postponing further movements till midnight. Never had any of us experienced such a dust storm. With great difficulty we brought up the 2nd Line Transport, filled the men's water bottles, and formed a Brigade bivouac. Movement was again postponed till 3 a.m. on account of the storm, though some of us thought it had been better to take advantage of the darkness and make the attack at once. At 3 a.m. our patrols were sent forward, the Battalion following in artillery formation. Right well led, the patrols pushed on meeting with no real resistance. When about a mile short of the Iron Bridge that crosses the Kharr Canal, the Colonel received a message that our leading patrol had gained the railway station in Baghdad before 6 a.m., that no Turks remained, and that we were driving out the Arabs with little difficulty. This information was immediately sent back to the Army Commander, and the Red Haeckle was the first British emblem seen in Baghdad. The Medical Officer of the Battalion observing a Turkish flag flying over a building, quickly climbed up and hauled it down. That flag is now a trophy of the Regiment.

The Turks had fled, but all that morning firing continued both in the town and neighbouring palm groves, caused chiefly by Arabs and Kurds shooting and looting in all directions. The Brigade, under General Thompson, had the well deserved honour of marching through the city, and order and confidence was soon established. The Regiment took an outpost position on the north of the City towards Kadhimain, and very pleasant was the rest under the shade of the palm groves.

The fall of Baghdad was a severe blow not only to the Turks but to the whole Quadruple Alliance, but how many who read that cheering and inspiring news on the morning of March 12th thought of the trials endured and overcome, thought of the sacrifices and losses that had been endured to make that news possible. How many knew of the advance in the blinding dust storm, when men gasped for air and water. How many knew of the fight on the Dialah when the Lancashires covered themselves with glory; these things are not always published but they were suffered, and suffered in such a manner that one felt it a privilege to belong to the same Regiment, Division or Army, and when the congratulatory message from the King, our Colonel in Chief, was read to the different regiments: 'It is with the greatest satisfaction that I have received the good news that you have occupied Baghdad. I heartily congratulate you and your troops on their success achieved under so many difficulties,' one knew that the Head of all our race understood and appreciated all that had been endured suffered, and accomplished.

THE BATTLE BEYOND BAGHDAD.

Perhaps it is the twilight which gives a feeling of mystery and beauty unknown in the glare and noise of midday, and I hardly know, as the Tigris seems to lose itself in the evening mists, above which the golden minarets of Kazimain still shine and glitter in the setting sun, whether I am truly in the land of reality or if I still linger but half awake in the realm of dreams and fancies, where stand the gates of horn and ivory.

For to how many during the past two years has not flashed the dream of the capture of this city, Dar-al-Salam, the City of Security? And of those who have seen the vision, how many have wondered from which gate the dream has issued, and how many have been filled with confidence? For that vision has drawn many thousands from Basrah and Amarah--many who are now here in the hour of victory, many who now lie where they fell on the field of battle, and many who are still prisoners and captives.

What dream was it of a captured city, of a City of Security, that lured them to their doom, and who was the first dreamer? And who next saw the second dream of fresh battalions and a new organisation that would lead without fail to Baghdad, and had the gift to know that this dream, unlike the other, had passed through the gate of horn?

So I mused but a week ago in the palm groves that had been ringing that very morning with rifle-shots, but seemed so quiet and peaceful in the evening light that I felt all the rush of the past pursuit was over, that our efforts had not only been crowned with success, but that a period of rest would now be given to man and beast. For the pursuit had been much more than merely a hot and dusty march of 120 miles from San-i-yat to Baghdad.

All through January and February the Army Commander had been preparing the way by a series of small victories which gradually drove the Turks, holding the right bank of the Tigris, across the Shatt-al-Hai, and a dozen miles above Kut. Then came the combined master-stroke on February 22 and 23. First, on the 22nd, came the successful attack on the San-i-yat trenches--the position that had held us at bay for a twelve month--the position that had finally checked our troops, struggling most bravely, but struggling in vain, for the relief of their comrades in Kut. This success drew several Turkish battalions to the help of the San-i-yat garrison, and so weakened the Turkish line elsewhere. And then at dawn, on the 23rd, came the crossing of the Tigris five miles above the Shatt-al-Hai--a crossing that will remain famous in history--when the bravery of the troops will not make one forget the careful preparation of the Commander and his skill in making success possible, by causing the Turk to mass his troops both above and below the actual point selected for crossing.

This well-timed and brilliantly executed stroke had sent the Turk flying; but though in the two months' fighting he had lost over 8,000 in prisoners and more than that number in killed and wounded, he was still able to fight a series of stubborn rearguard actions before the road was free to Baghdad. It was dawn on the 11th of March before the Highlanders, who were leading, reached the city, and an order to rest and be thankful had been welcome to troops more used to trench warfare than constant rapid marching in the open.

But when airmen brought intelligence that the enemy was holding an entrenched position some twenty miles north of the city, it was obvious that some of us must move up-river and drive him back.

It was once remarked by an American officer, who had served throughout the Civil War, that he knew that every soldier in the army was always longing to be in the next battle. He knew this because it was so said by every general and so written by every newspaper editor. And yet, although he had served in several regiments during the war, he had always found that that particular itch was more lively in neighbouring units than in his own.

So when orders arrived on the 13th of March for our Division to advance that night, our friends from other divisions congratulated us with what seemed almost undue heartiness on our good fortune in being selected, and the estimate of the numbers of the opposing Turks rose rapidly from five thousand to fifteen thousand. However, the estimated number finally settled down to about half that, with thirty guns, and these figures were subsequently substantiated by captured prisoners.

These orders put an end to the peaceful enjoyment of the palm grove, and preparations were hurried forward. Blankets and waterproof sheets were all stacked, men and officers all carried their own great coats and rations for the next day, water-bottles were filled that afternoon, and enough water was carried on mules to refill them once the next day, and no more given to man or animal till the morning of the 15th. This should be borne in mind when judging of the difficulties overcome by the troops in this action, for the shade temperature on the 14th was about 80?, and there was no shade.

The Turk certainly had judged it impossible for us to advance so far from the river, for we learned later that he had laid out the trace of most of his trenches between the river and the railway; but our main attack was delivered west of the railway, a success there forcing the withdrawal of the whole of his line.

Save for several severe dust-storms the whole pursuit had been blessed with fine weather, and it was on a beautiful starlit night that our Division formed up along the railway for the march towards Mushaidie, a station some twenty miles north of Baghdad on the direct road to Berlin.

Night marches, the text-book says, may be made for several reasons, but it does not suggest that one of these ever could be for pleasure. Constant and unexpected checks break the swing that counts so much for comfort on a long march; hurrying on to make up for lost ground, stumbling in rough places, belated units pushing past to the front, whispered but heated arguments with staff officers, all threaten the calm of a peaceful evening and also that of a well-balanced mind. Many a soldier sadly misses his pipe, which, of course, may not be lit on a night march; but to me a greater loss is the silence of those other pipes, for the sound of the bagpipes will stir up a thousand memories in a Highland regiment, and nothing helps a column of weary foot-soldiers so well as pipe-music, backed by the beat of drum. This march was neither better nor worse than its fellows, and we had covered some fourteen miles before we halted at dawn. Then we lay down, gnawed a biscuit, tasted the precious water in our bottles, and waited for what news airmen would bring of the enemy.

The day is not wasted on which one has seen the sun rise--perhaps some of us changed the old saying, and felt the day would be well spent for him who saw the sun set,--for in war, however sure the victory, so also is the toll of killed and wounded, and the attack of an enemy entrenched in this country, as bare and open as the African veld, is done readily, gladly, but not without losses; and the time one thinks of these is not in the charge, not in the advance, but in the empty period of waiting beforehand. The needle pricks before, not during, the race. "Remember only the happy hours," and if the most glorious hour in life is the hour of victory in battle, so are the hours preceding battle among the most depressing. I confess, as we sat there idle in the chill dawn, my mind was filled not only with the hope of victory and captured trenches, but with memories of past scenes in France and Mesopotamia, and of a strip of ground the evening after Magersfontein, each battlefield dotted with little groups of men lying rigid, each marked with lines of motionless forms.

Action quickly dispels such thoughts, and we all welcomed the definite news that was at last brought of the enemy, and our orders for a farther advance. One brigade was immediately sent forward on the east side of the railway in order to press back the advanced parties of the enemy on their main position, some six miles north of our present halting place. A brave sight it is to see a brigade deploying for action. Even though the scarlet doublet has given place to the khaki jacket, though no pipes sound and no colours are unfurled, the spirit still remains; the spirit that in old days led the British line to victory still fills these little columns scattered at wide intervals over the plain, these little columns of Englishmen, Highlanders, Indians, and Gurkhas. The brigade pushed forward for a mile or two without opposition, then little puffs of white smoke bursting in the air showed that the Turk had opened the battle with salvoes of shrapnel; the little columns quickly spread out into thin lines, and our batteries trotted forward and were soon themselves engaged in action. So far the scene had been clear in every detail, but now as the day advanced, the dust from advancing batteries, the smoke and mirage, formed a fog of war that telephones and signallers could only in part dispel.

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