Part 3 (1/2)
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 gra.s.s, or what formed a subst.i.tute for gra.s.s, 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 s.h.i.+rts. 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 comrades.h.i.+p 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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Ashar Creek.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Ashar Creek.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Native Bazaar, Ashar.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Scenes In Basrah.]
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 sh.e.l.l 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 pa.s.ses, 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 hara.s.s 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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Tree Of Knowledge, Kurnah. Supposed Site Of The Garden Of Eden.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Ashar Creek.]
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 sh.e.l.ls 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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The s.h.i.+p Of The Desert Plays An Important Part In Mesopotamia.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Ruins Of ”Old Ba.s.sorah.”]
We used to have three Officers' Messes when in the trenches. The Headquarters Mess presided over by the Colonel and two Company Messes, presided over by their respective Company Commanders. The Headquarters Mess was a very comfortable affair, a big dug-out, and made in such a way that ground formed the table in the middle and seats all around, the sides were well banked up with sand bags and outside a small ante room where one could sit and smoke in the evening, and the roof was the sky and a very wonderful sky during those long rainless cloudless months. Round about the Headquarters, the Colonel, the Adjutant, the Doctor, the Sergeant-Major, had their dug-outs, and the Mess did for Orderly Room also. The Company Messes were not so elaborate, and were situated nearer the front line and close to our own dug-outs. We endeavoured however to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, but for some reason or other the flies took a great liking to our Mess (No. 1 Company), and at any time day or night they were a.s.sembled in their hundreds on our canvas roof. We had a large war map fixed up on to the mud wall to enable us to follow events and we had occasional visits from the Padre and the Doctor, but it was not a healthy place, no part of the second line was; the second line was about a 100 yards behind the first, and for some reason it seemed to give the Turks much more pleasure to put their sh.e.l.ls nearer to the second line than the first. I have picked small flowers growing on the front line parapet, but I have never seen any on the second. During my first spell in the trenches after being in the front line, I was put in charge of the reserves in the reserve trenches and spent three awful days and four awful nights in this position. The heat seemed to be worse here than anywhere. I had to spend my days in a small 40 lbs. tent lying on the ground gasping for air as the sun poured down with relentless fury. It was burning hot from the moment it rose till it set 14 hours after over the Arabian Desert. The men were slightly more fortunate in that they had a bigger tent, but they suffered also and it was at these times that one could not but admire the spirit of the 'British Soldier.' One seldom heard a complaint, of course they were ”fed up”
with the heat, everyone was the Archangel Gabriel would have been, but there was never any thought given to anything else but to ”stick it at whatever cost.” The officer in reserve was attached to the Headquarters Mess and so one was likely to get any news going. Lying in my tent reading, I now forget the name of the book, but I came across the pa.s.sage which I will always remember ”The writing which Nebuchadnezar saw on the wall.” As I read that I felt convinced that Nebuchadnezar never saw any writing on the wall and when I reached the Mess that evening, the first one to come in was the Doctor and being a good Presbyterian I felt sure he would have this knowledge at his fingers' ends, so I asked him who saw the writing on the wall and he immediately replied ”Nebuchadnezar”. ”Not at all,” I said, and I told him I had just read the same thing in a book but felt convinced it was wrong, he felt certain the book was right. ”Very well,” I said, ”I'll bet you, you are wrong,” he accepted the bet. The Adjutant came in soon after and supported the Doctor. I now saw a veritable gold mine before me and he too was willing to back his knowledge against mine.
We decided to refer the matter to the Colonel, so when he came in we asked his opinion. The Colonel was not only a gallant soldier but he was a cautious Scotchman. ”Well,” he said, ”I think it was Nebuchadnezar, but I would not be willing to back too much on it.” It is only necessary to turn to the 5th Chapter of Daniel to see who won the bets. That night sanction came for several N.C.O.'s and men to go on leave to India for a month. Sanction had been hanging fire for some time and the lucky ones were beginning to despair. My sergeant was among the lucky ones and I knew how pleased he would be when I got back and told him to report to Headquarters at 5 the next morning for leave to India. It was late when I got back, but little did he mind being disturbed to receive such news. I vouch for it that he slept well that night and did not oversleep himself in the morning. To those in France who get leave every three or four months it is impossible to understand what leave even to India once in one or two years means, but when the news comes that we can get leave for England, it will indeed be a red letter day for us all. I was so exhausted the next day with the heat that I was unable to appear at Mess. The Colonel sent up to find out what was wrong and wanted me to return to the rest camp at once, but I was not sufficiently done up for that, and I only relate this incident to show the thoughtfulness of the Commanding Officer for those under him.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Quartermaster-sergeant HOBBS.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Regimental Sergeant-major In The Trenches.
Sergeant-major A. SMART, M.C.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Pipe Major KEITH.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: No. 3 British General Hospital.]
The next evening after the Regiment was relieved the reserves being the last to come out of the trenches, I found a horse waiting for me, on the Commanding Officer's instructions, so that I would not have the exertion of the march back to camp; that and similar incidents made our affection for our Commanding Officer a very real thing. But being in reserve had one compensation, in the early morning before the sun rose and just at dawn to lie and watch the wonderful colourings on the Pusht-i-Kuh Hills, colours changing every moment, was always pleasurable, and suddenly a sh.e.l.l would burst near the artillery position and one would know the daily Hate and Strafe had started, and shortly after the sun would rise. We spent some uncomfortable evenings being sh.e.l.led in these trenches, and watching and waiting for them to burst was not an enjoyable occupation. There were no safe dug-outs to seek safety in, one had to stick it out wherever one was situated and hope for the best. The damage done was seldom great beyond knocking the trenches about a bit and these were soon repaired. Having been put in charge of a digging party one morning in the rearward area whose duty it was to widen and deepen a communication trench, I saw a good opportunity while the work was going on of looking for souvenirs in the shape of Turkish sh.e.l.l caps. So getting out of the trench I commenced a search and continued for some time but without success, when I was driven to seek shelter in the trench by a sh.e.l.l bursting in close proximity, they had evidently spotted someone walking about and opened fire, but it did not last for long. During our period in the trenches if there was very little doing, as was usually the case during the hot weeks, we were in turn sent down to the Depot three miles behind for two days' rest, and it was an absolute and complete rest. One had nothing whatever to do, get up at any time, go to bed at any time, complete relaxation, those two days were a great boon to us.
To have absolutely nothing to do was a great luxury and anything out of the ordinary routine was enjoyable. During my spell of leave at the Depot one evening sitting round the Mess table which we had outside on account of the great heat, we were discussing the movements of the Regiment during the past 20 years and when I remarked that I had watched the Regiment embarking at Durban for India 15 years before, the Quartermaster said, ”I was there and out of the whole Battalion that embarked that day, there are only two of us left with the Regiment, the Sergeant-Major and myself”. I little thought as I watched the 2nd Battalion saying farewell to South Africa that 15 years later I would share in some of its trials on the banks of the Tigris. Sitting in the Headquarters Mess in the evening, as I previously stated, one got all the news, about 8 o'clock the Quartermaster would appear having come up from the Depot in charge of the rations party and to make his report. The mails would be brought up by them too and if the English mail was due and had arrived with letters and papers great was the excitement. Our letters took about six weeks from England to the firing line, but we were allowed to send week-end cables at a very reduced rate, something like 6_d._ a word, and could send them off actually from the trenches on their long journey half across the world. The food, taking everything into consideration, was good, although of necessity it had to greatly consist of tinned and dried varieties and we suffered somewhat from lack of fresh vegetables. Later an improvement in this respect was effected.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Scenes In The Trenches At San-i-yat.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Filters.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Captain MACQUEEN, R.A.M.C., And His Aid Post.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Indian Water Carriers At San-i-yat.]
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.