Italy was a doubtful ally, but was nominally with Germany too, and might at least be regarded as neutral.

The German scheme was to deal first with the two great Continental powers which stood in Germany’s way, France and Russia. If they could be attacked and overthrown, as she believed they could be, by a swift onslaught upon each of them in turn, the Continent of Europe would be at her feet. It was calculated that England would be neither willing nor able to interfere in their behalf before their fate was sealed. Then, with France and Russia powerless, or even possibly enlisted as vassal States, Germany would turn upon the only power which stood between her and the dominion of the world—England. Having a contemptibly small Army, and no allies in Europe, England would either come to heel without fighting, or would be attacked in India and overwhelmed, probably with the help of the Indians themselves. Her fleet would not be able to help her against vast armies, German and other, marching upon the Indian frontier from Asiatic Turkey, and the few hundred thousand trained men she could put into line would be swamped by ten times their numbers. Afterwards, if America or Japan or China gave any trouble, it would be easy enough to deal with them. The only powers that really counted were the three great European powers—France and Russia with their trained armies, and England with her trained fleet.

It was an ambitious scheme, but not one that could be regarded as visionary. It did not take sufficient account of England’s sea-power; but undoubtedly if France and Russia had both been struck down, and England had been left standing alone, he would have been a very fearless Englishman who could have faced the future without apprehension. Even supposing that no immediate attack upon England had followed, her prospect of holding her own indefinitely against a Germany rapidly outgrowing her in population and wealth would not have been promising. The silent deposition of the naval power of France by that of Germany in the course of a few years before the War had been a striking lesson. But as a matter of fact a great attack upon England was undoubtedly contemplated. “Der Tag” was to have come, and come soon.

Can any one feel sure that if England had stood by while France and Russia were overwhelmed she could afterwards have successfully resisted that attack? The Boer War had shown that at the beginning of the century a combination of the Continental powers against her was not improbable. Would it have been less probable fifteen or twenty years later, when the sea strength of those powers compared with her own had vastly increased, and when France and Russia had been incensed against her by her failure to help them in their time of need? And if all the navies of Europe had joined against her, could she have drawn for help on India and the Dominions beyond the seas? Would she not have found it hard enough to protect her own coasts? Happily for her she did not stand aside, and that issue was never put to the test. Unready for war as she was, and unwilling, she struck with sure instinct before it was too late.

Even so, though England threw in her lot with Russia and France, the struggle was not an unequal one, and, as everyone knows, there were times when it seemed that the Allies might lose the war, or at all events fail to make more than a drawn fight of it. Their latent numbers and resources were greater, but the enemy enjoyed the immense advantage of having chosen his own time, when he was ready and they were not. He had also the advantage of united command and of the central position, whilst the Allies were widely separated. These advantages very nearly outbalanced latent numbers and resources. Eventually they proved insufficient to do so, but they nearly succeeded. Nothing prevented Germany winning but the fact that she had to put out all her armed power at once, and to fight England then, instead of reserving her Turkish strength for a separate duel with England later.

How formidable her Turkish strength was, a glance at the map will show. Not only were the Turks a great military nation, with warlike traditions and a population capable of raising two millions of fighting men, but Turkey stood across the Straits between Europe and Asia, and while guarding them could throw her weight freely upon the East. India was England’s most sensitive point, the one where she was exposed to military aggression by land. Strike her there, the Kaiser thought, as Napoleon had thought before him, and the clay feet of the great image would crumble under her.

Between Europe and the Indian frontier lies a stretch of country 2500 miles in breadth, held by three independent powers, Turkey, Persia, and Afghanistan.14 All these powers are Mahomedan, and of the three Turkey is, or was in 1914, by far the most powerful. Not only was she the strongest from a military point of view, but in the eyes of countless millions of Mahomedans the Sultan of Turkey was the head of the faith, the true successor of the Prophet; and he was entirely in German hands. His power extended over a thousand miles, to the frontier of Persia, which was not only weak, but at the moment unlikely to use such strength as she had on England’s side. Turks and Persians certainly did not belong to the same sect of the Mahomedan faith, and had often been enemies in the past. But the Persians after all were Mussulmans, and their religious sympathies in any quarrel between Mahomedans and Christians were sure to be against the Christians. Persia held a thousand miles more of the space between Europe and India. Beyond her again to the eastward, right up to the Indian border, lay the third of the independent powers—Afghanistan. The external relations of Afghanistan were supposed to be under British control, and her ruler enjoyed a British subsidy. But his people were turbulent and fanatical, and belonged for the most part to the same religious division of Islam as the Turks. They were believed to have little love for the British, who had more than once invaded their country. Finally, along the Indian border itself, and inside India, there were perhaps seventy millions of Mahomedans, some belonging to wild mountain tribes, constantly at war against the British, and most of the rest inclined to acknowledge the religious supremacy of the Sultan. These Mahomedans had, as a rule, served the British Government with fidelity, and formed a considerable part of the Indian Army. But they too were of the faith. Surely the Germans had some ground for hoping that if the Turks made a vigorous push towards India from their own Asiatic territory, their armies, organised and commanded by German officers, and supported by a hot religious propaganda, would succeed in doing much evil to England. They might, perhaps, succeed in sweeping the independent Mahomedan States with them into a great invasion of India. In any case they would seriously disturb the country, and probably stir up a Mahomedan revolt with which England would find it hard to deal. If backed by a great German army they would be irresistible.

The Kaiser was not far wrong. Even though by joining France and Russia in 1914 England disarranged the German calculations, and brought on the Eastern conflict prematurely from a German point of view, it was shown that there had been good reason for the Kaiser’s confidence. Turkey under German direction proved strong enough, even without the help of a German army in the East, not only to repulse a great Anglo-French attack upon her in the Dardanelles, but to inflict much loss upon England in Western Asia, and with the aid of a strong politico-religious propaganda, to cause sensible trouble on the Indian border. In the end she failed, and the blow which was to have brought about the overthrow of England in India resulted in the complete collapse of the Turkish Empire: India, instead of being a source of weakness to England, turned out to be a great addition to her military power. But before this result was reached there were four years of hard fighting, and at times the issue seemed to be very doubtful. Unquestionably, the Anglo-Turkish conflict was a matter of great moment, and the result of it seriously affected the success of the whole German scheme.

It is interesting to consider in some farther detail what was the strategical position of Turkey with regard to war in Asia when she elected to draw the sword. The original home of the Ottoman Turks was on the Asiatic side of the Straits, and it was there that in this century, if not always, the main strength of the Ottoman Empire has lain. Asia Minor was the great recruiting ground for the Turkish armies, and the great central base from which she could strike out eastward. Assuming that her alliances in Europe, and the possession of the immensely strong position on the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles, made her practically secure on the western side, as proved to be the case, the value of the Asia Minor base for action eastward was very great indeed. There she could place the bulk of her large army, and from there she could throw her weight upon the distant possessions of the Allies, where they were incapable of much mutual help,—upon the Russians in the Caucasus on her left—upon Persia, and possibly through Persia upon India in the centre—upon Egypt on her right. The Allies, hard pressed in Europe, and therefore comparatively weak on these extremities of the great semicircle, seemed to be at an almost hopeless disadvantage in meeting the blows she might strike, outwards as it were from the handle of an open fan towards the end of the spokes. Her fronts in Asia were three—Armenia, Persia, Palestine; and it seemed that from her inner position she could act with greater effect upon each of these fronts than the scattered Allies could do, acting from the outside inwards.

On the central of the three fronts the Turks were perhaps in a specially strong position, for they had an established secondary base in Mesopotamia, with its famous capital Baghdad, to which extended, though with one or two gaps, the great strategical railway from Constantinople. Beyond Baghdad they held the lines of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, and could push eastward into Persia by the highroad which from time immemorial has seen the march of conquering armies eastwards and westwards,—the armies of the Persians for Marathon and Platæa—the armies of Alexander the Great on their way to India—and numberless others before and since.

But what German and Turk alike failed to understand, or at all events to appreciate at its full value, was the sea-power of England. Sea-power had in old days given Rome the mastery over Carthage, and in later times it had enabled England to wear out Napoleon. It was to be the deciding factor now in the overthrow of the Turkish Empire, and with the Turkish Empire, of the great German scheme of world domination.

For recognising at once the great danger to India of letting the Turks push forward into Persia, and possibly into Afghanistan, recognising also the value of the Persian oil-fields and other British interests in that ancient country, Great Britain had determined not to await Turkish and German aggression on its Indian frontier, but to meet the threat with a bold offensive on Turkish soil. Directly it became certain that Turkey had thrown in her lot with the Central Powers, in the autumn of 1914, an expeditionary force sailed from India for the Persian Gulf, and seized the mouth of the Shat-el-Arab, by which the Tigris and Euphrates pour into the sea. The objects of this expedition were at first limited. The protection of the oil-wells, of such importance to our Navy, and the blocking of the German strategical railway through Baghdad, were all that was immediately contemplated. But the comparatively easy success of the Indian force, mainly composed of native Indian soldiery, in defeating the Turkish troops near the coast, encouraged the British commanders to push on up the rivers into Mesopotamia. In 1915, a year after the outbreak of war, a force under General Townshend had taken Kut-el-Amara, three hundred miles from the sea, and the attack on the Dardanelles being on the point of open failure, it was decided that as a counterblast to this failure Great Britain should strike a great blow in the East by marching to Baghdad and conquering all Turkish Arabia.

It was an important decision, and full of interest in many ways. Mesopotamia is the cradle of history, sacred and profane. It is the legendary site of the Garden of Eden, and from its plains, from Ur of the Chaldees, the Patriarch Abraham set out with his flocks and herds for the Holy Land. After his day it was the site of great empires. Babylon lies in the centre of it, Nineveh not far to the north, Shushan a few score miles to the east. It has seen Grecian and Roman armies as well as Asiatic hosts, and the first explosion of the new Mahomedan faith was across its plains to Ctesiphon, and Persia, and Syria. Baghdad soon arose as the Mahomedan capital, and became famous throughout the world. Undoubtedly, to attack Turkey in Mesopotamia was to cover India and Persia from attack on her part; and to beat her out of Baghdad was to strike her a blow which would resound all over the world. She would perhaps exhaust herself in trying to recover her position there, as Napoleon exhausted himself trying to recover from a similar sea-borne blow in Spain. From the time when Townshend was ordered to advance on Baghdad, the Mesopotamian Front became one of the important theatres on which the Great War was being played.

As a fighting ground, Mesopotamia had some advantages for Great Britain, and some great drawbacks. The southern part of it came down to the sea, and communications with India and England were therefore open. Everything required for the conduct of war could be supplied. Moreover, though the climate of Mesopotamia was hot in summer, it was perhaps, as before remarked, better suited for the Indian soldiery, who formed the bulk of the British forces, than what Europeans would consider a more healthy climate, the temperate climate of Northern France. Its plains too were free from the geographical obstacles of mountainous countries. Right up to Baghdad they were flat and bare, very different from the wild fighting grounds of the Indian frontier, with their rocky peaks and forest-clad hillsides and rushing torrents.

On the other hand, the summer heat in Mesopotamia was excessive, even for Indians, and desperately trying to white men, while in winter the wind and cold were at times severe. Moreover, the very flatness of the Mesopotamian plains was a difficulty. The great rivers which wound across them were in the rainy season swollen by the melting snows of their upper courses, until they overflowed their banks, and caused vast inundations and swamps impassable for troops. The march of military forces in the hot season, with the thermometer in tents at 120° or more, was too deadly to face, and movement in the flood season was impossible; so the real fighting season was almost limited to the time from the end of the heat till the filling of the rivers—that is, from about the middle of October to the middle of March.

At all other times, and indeed at all times, the rivers themselves were the chief means of communication for troops and supplies; and boats of any carrying power were few. Even when armed movement on land was possible, any advance against an enemy in position was a formidable task, for the flat ground afforded not a vestige of cover, and troops had often to go forward to the assault of trenches over ground as smooth and bare as a billiard-table, perhaps up to their knees in mud, with deep swamps on each side preventing any attempt at a turning movement. Mud, indeed, proved to be a more formidable obstacle than mountains and ravines. Troops could not advance over it with any freedom or swiftness, and they could not camp in it without misery and loss; nor could they be fed in large numbers, for it made the transport of supplies very difficult. Then the whole country, though not really friendly to the Turks, was inhabited by Arabs who were anything but friendly to an invader. Whether in the marshy lands near the rivers or on the dry plains beyond, they were always hanging on the flanks of an advancing or retreating force, their desert horsemen as elusive as the “web-footed” men of the marshes, swift to gather and as swift to vanish in the mirage of an enchanted land where all seemed fantastic and unreal. With stubborn Turkish soldiery, organised by Germans, intrenched in large numbers along the river lines, and supported by larger numbers of these irregular auxiliaries on every side, the country was no easy field of action for a British army.

Nevertheless, in spite of all difficulties of climate and ground, the British expeditionary force had by the autumn of 1915 established itself in control of the river mouths, with a considerable Turkish province in its hands. Then, in an evil hour, came the decision to advance on Baghdad, and a single British Division was pushed forward. It was a very daring if not an insane project, and it failed. Before the end of the year the unfortunate Division found itself besieged by superior forces at Kut-el-Amara, and in the following April, after a siege of five months, a starving British force of more than 10,000 men, nearly 3000 of them white men, was marched away by the Turks into bitter captivity.

This was the heaviest blow that had ever been dealt to British arms and British prestige in Asia. Not only had 10,000 men been taken prisoners, but the Turks had inflicted upon other British forces trying to relieve them a series of bloody repulses. Struggling forward, time after time, with splendid devotion over the muddy flats, in vain attempts to drive from strong lines of trenches an enemy superior in numbers, our soldiery, white and black, had lost over 20,000 men in killed and wounded, and had been forced to admit that for the time they could do no more. The Turks had won a striking success, the measure of which to Great Britain was the loss of an Army Corps.

But, much to its credit, the British nation refused to accept the defeat in Mesopotamia as a final one. Though staggered by it and the still greater repulse at the Dardanelles, England resolved that the Turks should yet be conquered. Smarting from her defeats, she was not wholly just to the leaders who had done all that men could do to effect impossibilities. Some honourable reputations were sacrificed, and wrong done to brave and capable soldiers. But at least her resolution did not fail. Her legions, rapidly increasing not only on the soil of the British Islands but throughout the Empire, and made available by her sea-power for employment all over the world, were poured upon the Turkish frontiers. The Turks had dealt her two stunning blows; but brave fighters as they had shown themselves to be, they were to learn, as Germany learnt, that it is not prudent for any nation to rouse the English.

In Mesopotamia the military chiefs who had failed in their attempts to reach Kut before its garrison was starved into surrender, were relieved of their commands, and the Mesopotamian force was entrusted to General Maude, who, unlike them, was now given time to collect a large army, properly organised and equipped, and was helped in his task by every possible means both in India and in England. Troops were sent to him in numbers sufficient to let him meet the Turks on at least equal terms, and immense efforts were put forth to give him the necessary equipment for scientific modern warfare, and the transport necessary for effective action. Roads and railways were established, and above all, a great fleet of river steamers was gathered from various parts of the world, in order that he might be able to use to the full the natural highways of the country. During the whole summer of 1916 these preparations were steadily pushed on, with a view to another advance when the hot weather would be over.

It was to this country, and during this pause in the conflict, that the Thirteenth were diverted from their work in France. The diversion was of course a disappointment. The Regiment could no longer hope to join in the coming triumph on the Western Front. Not for them the grand pursuit to the Rhine, and on over German country to the gates of Berlin, and the final march Unter den Linden. It was hard to give up such a prospect. But it has been shown in what spirit the order was received. They were soldiers, and their duty was to do their best wherever they might be most useful to the country. If they were more wanted in the East than on the Western Front, so be it.

And, after all, perhaps it might be as well for themselves. The coming triumph in Europe might be long postponed, might even turn out to be one for the Infantry and guns alone. In the plains of Mesopotamia they might reasonably look for some Cavalry ground—for some chance of striking a blow on horseback and justifying their existence. There, at all events, they would not have the work and the honour altogether taken out of their hands by the airmen, who were to them what the eagle was to the horse, and find themselves chafing in impotence while the enemy defied them from the shelter of his trench lines, against which they were as useless as unarmed men. Mesopotamia held out some hope to the cavalryman who still believed in his arm. He might yet get home with lance and sabre, and take his revenge upon the footmen who had so long held him at a distance with fortifications and “villainous saltpetre.” Asia had always been the land of the horseman. Surely it would be so again.

And he was not wrong. Both in Mesopotamia and in Palestine, horsemen were to strike heavy blows before the war ended.

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.

“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....”

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.

CHAPTER XI.
MARCH TO THE FRONT—MAUDE’S PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.

On the 3rd of November, the 7th Cavalry Brigade marched out of their desert camp and set their faces northward. The Brigade marched in four echelons, of which the Hussars formed the fourth.