Part 13 (1/2)
Well, we started out at 10 p.m. and marched slowly and silently till nearly midnight. Then we bivouacked for four-and-a-half-hours (5 on sketch,) and a more uncomfortable time I hope never to spend. We had not dared bring rugs for fear of losing them in the subsequent attack, so I had nothing but my Burberry, a m.u.f.fler and a woollen helmet. The ground was bare earth everywhere, very damp and cold. I lay in a ditch and slept for three-quarters-of-an hour, and then woke with extremely cold feet, so I walked about a little, and then, finding Foster in the same case, we both took off our Burberrys and laid one under us and one above and lay like babes in the wood. This expedient kept one flank nicely warm, and soon I got North to make a pillow of my other thigh, which kept _that_ warm: but from the knees downwards I was incurably cold and never got to sleep again. The men were better off, having each a blanket, and sleeping in packets of four.
_Sat.u.r.day._ At last 4.30 a.m. arrived and we started marching again.
It was a blessing to get one's feet warm but the pleasures of the march were strictly comparative. We trekked on eastwards along the river-bank till sunrise, 7 a.m., when we came on a camp of Arabs who fled shrieking at our approach (6 on sketch.) At 7.30, we halted and had breakfast. Our united efforts failed to find enough fuel to boil a kettle. We waited till 9, when the cavalry patrols returned and reported no sign of the enemy, so we marched back to the pontoon bridge (7 on sketch). I suspect our re-entry _qua_ stage reinforcements was the whole object of our expedition, and the out-flankers were a myth from the beginning. The march back was the most unpleasant we've had. It got hot and the ground was hard and rough and we were all very tired and footsore. A sleepless night takes the stamina out of one. There and back our trek was about twelve miles.
On arrival at the bridge we were only allowed half-an-hour's rest and then got orders to march out to take up an 'observation post' on the right flank. Being general reserve is no sinecure with bluffing tactics prevailing.
This last lap was extremely trying. We marched in artillery formation, all very lame and stiff. We pa.s.sed behind our yesterday's friend, the howitzer battery, but at a more respectful distance from the enemy's battery. This latter showed no sign of life till we were nearly two miles from the river. Then it started its double deliveries and some of them came fairly close to some of our platoon, but not to mine.
It took us nearly two hours to drag ourselves three miles and the men had hardly a kick in them when we reached the place a.s.signed for our post (8 on sketch). We were ordered to entrench in echelon of companies facing North. I thought it would take till dark to get us dug in (it was 2 p.m.); but luckily our men, lined up ready to begin digging, caught the eye of the enemy as a fine enfilade target (or else they saw our first line mules) and they started sh.e.l.ling us from 6,500 yards (Enemy's battery, 9 on sketch). The effect on the men was magical. They woke up and dug so well that we had fair cover within half an hour and quite adequate trenches by 3. This bombardment was quite exciting. The first few pairs were exactly over ”D” Company's trench, but pitched about 100 yards beyond it. The next few were exactly right in range, but about forty yards right, _i.e._ behind us.
Just as we were wondering where the third lot would be, our faithful howitzer battery and some heavy guns behind them, which opened all they knew on the enemy battery as soon as they opened on us, succeeded in attracting its fire to themselves. This happened three or four times. Just as they were getting on to us the artillery saved us: there would be a sharp artillery duel and then the Turks would lie quiet for ten minutes, then begin on us again. This went on until we were too well dug in to be a tempting target, and they devoted themselves to our battery. The curious part of it was that though we could see the flash of their guns every time, the mirages made it impossible to judge their ranges or even for our battery to observe its own fire properly. Our howitzer battery unfortunately was not in a mirage, and they had its range to a yard and plastered it with shrapnel. If they had had high explosives they could have smashed it.
About 4.30 the mirage cleared and our guns had a free go for the first time that day: (in the morning mists last until the mirage begins).
I'm told the mirage had put our guns over 1,000 yards out in their ranging, but I doubt this. Anyway it is the fact that those guns and trenches which were sited in mirages were practically untouched in a heavy two days' bombardment.
In that last hour, however, between 4.20 and dark, our heavy guns got into the enemy finely with their high explosives. They blew one of our tormentors bodily into the air at 10,500 yards, and silenced the others, and chased every Turk out of the landscape.
All the same, we were rather gloomy that night. Our line had made no progress that we could hear of; we had had heavy losses (none in our battalion), and there seemed no prospect of dislodging the enemy.
Their front was so wide we could not get round them, and frontal attacks on trenches are desperate affairs here if your artillery is paralysed by mirages. The troops who have come from France say that in this respect this action has been more trying than either Neuve Chappelle or Ypres, because, as they say, it is like advancing over a billiard-table all the way.
To crown our troubles, we were three miles from the river, which meant no water except for necessities--the men had no kits, and it was very cold, and we could not show lights. And finally, after midnight, it began to pour with rain!
_Sunday._ At 5.30 we stood to arms. It rained harder than ever and most of us hadn't a dry st.i.tch. At last it got light, the rain gradually stopped, and a thoroughly depressed battalion breakfasted in a grey mist, expecting to be bombarded the moment it lifted. About 8.30 the mist cleared a little, and we looked in vain for our tormentors. Our cavalry reconnoitred and, to our joy, we saw them ride clean over the place where the enemy's line had been the evening before. They had gone in the night.
A cold but drying wind sprang up and the sun came out for a short time, and we managed to get our things dry. At 1 o'clock we marched back to the river and found the bridge gone.
I think this makes a good place to stop, as it marks the end of our first series of adventures and of the no doubt by now famous battle of D.
I enclose a sketch-map to explain our movements. For obvious reasons I can't say much about the battle itself.
(I will briefly bring this up to date, post it and try to get a cable through to you.)
When we reached the river (10 on sketch), it began to rain again and we spent a very chill and damp afternoon on the bank awaiting orders.
About dusk B. and C. Companies were ordered to cross the river to guard the hospital there, and D. stayed to guard the hospital on the left bank. Mercifully our s.h.i.+p was handy, so we got our tents and slept warm, though all our things were wettish.
_Monday._ A quiet morning, no orders. A Scotch mist shrouded everything till noon and kept our things damp, but the sun got through at last.
C. Company returned to left bank, as all wounded were being s.h.i.+pped across. (N.B. They had to bring them across in our s.h.i.+p. There is still no sign of the Red Cross motor boats up _here_, though I'm glad to hear they've reached Basra.) We got orders to march to D. by night.
We started at 8 p.m., ”B.” Company marching parallel on the other bank. It was seven or eight miles, but we went very slow, and did not get in till 1.30 and our transport not till nearly 3, heavy guns sticking in the ditches. (N.B. Once we got behind the evacuated Turkish line, we found that the ditches had been filled in to allow pa.s.sage of guns, an expedient which had apparently not occurred to the British Command, for no ditch had been filled in between B, and this point!)
_Tuesday._ When morning came we found ourselves camped just opposite D. (11 on sketch), and we are still there. Two fine days (though it freezes at night) and rest have restored us. A mail arrived this morning, bringing letters to December 7th, and your medical parcels.
I only returned you the quinine and bandages, of which people in Amara have plenty. They will come in handy for you to send out again. _Here_ everything medical can be used, but I couldn't have brought any more than I did. As it is, I've left a lot at Amarah.
I must close now. On these cold nights the little kitchener is invaluable, so is the soup. Of the various brands you sent, Ivelcon is the best. The chocolate is my mainstay on day marches. Also the Diet Tablets are very good. Bivouac Cocoa is also good. The Kaross is invaluable.
Stanford's Map has arrived.