CHAPTER VI.

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:

"I congratulate you and the troops under your command on the successes recently obtained, and feel confident that all ranks will spare no effort to achieve further success. It is gratifying to me to know that the difficulties of communications which hitherto hampered your operations have been overcome" George R.I.



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.



CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE BEYOND BAGHDAD.

By Brigadier-general A. G. WAUCHOPE, C.M.G., D.S.O.

The following Chapter appeared in Blackwoods Magazine for August 1917:—'On the banks of the Tigris I am lying in the shadow of a palm, looking down the river on the brick walls and mud roofs, on the mosques and minarets of the city of Baghdad, and as I look I am lost in wonder. For although I am now lying in a grove of date-palms, it is fifteen months since I have seen a tree of any kind; it is fifteen months since I have seen a house or lain under a roof; and this girl coming towards me with hesitating steps, clothed in rags and patches, this little date-seller with her pale face and dark eyes, her empty basket resting on her small, well-shaped head—this is the first woman I have seen or spoken to for more than a year.'

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.

A few days ago, as the columns of the Army of Mesopotamia were hurrying past the great Arch of Ctesiphon, it was impossible not to think of the —— Division arriving there some eighteen months earlier—that gallant —— Division, war-worn and depleted in numbers but ever victorious, who found at Ctesiphon, in the hour of their last and most glorious victory, the beginning of their undoing and tragic end.

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 deg., 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.

The mirage in Mesopotamia does not so much hide as distort the truth. The enemy are seldom altogether hidden from view, the trouble is rather to tell whether one is observing a cavalry patrol or an infantry regiment, or if the object moving forward is not in reality a sandhill or a bunch of reeds. The mirage here has certainly a strange power of apparently raising objects above the ground-level. I remember well from a camp near Falahiyah the Sinn Banks, which are perhaps thirty feet above the plain, were quite invisible in the clear morning air, but about noon they were easy to distinguish as a cloudy wall swaying to and fro in the distant haze. Nor shall I forget the instance of an officer who once assured me he had observed five Arab horsemen within a mile of our column: we rode forward, and soon the five shadowy horsemen gave place to five black crows hopping about by the edge of the Suwaicha marsh. But the most curious illusion I have seen in this way was looking towards the Pusht-i-Kuh hills across the marsh from San-i-yat. The foothills, some thirty miles distant, had sometimes the appearance of ending in abrupt white cliffs such as one sees at Dover. The cause of this was a great number of dead fish which had been stranded as the marsh receded, and their white bellies, a mile away, gave the appearance of white cliffs to the base of the Persian hills, which in reality slope very gradually down to the level of the Tigris valley.



So in Mesopotamian battles, little can be trusted that is seen, and to gain information of the enemy commanders are bound to rely on reports by aeroplane, messengers, and telephones.

The battle now before us was to be fought over ground typical of the Tigris valley and the desert into which it merges. There are no hills, trees, or any distinguishing features, but the strip nearest the river, varying from one to several miles in breadth, is cultivated and intersected with irrigation channels, some six feet, some six inches, in width and depth. These are invaluable as cover to troops on the defensive, and almost impassable to transport carts. It was here the enemy had expected us, and was holding numerous trenches between the river and the railway; but our commanders wisely waited till their information was complete, and then decided to make our main attack on the enemy's extreme right, some six miles from the river. The ground in this part is a wide open desert, bare and level except for a few low sandhills; but in the dips and hollows below the sandhills the khaki-coloured desert changes into a thick growth of fresh green grass, dotted with countless daisies and dandelions, and a little white flower resembling alyssum giving a sweet smell to all the countryside. Some five miles beyond our halting-place a definite ridge runs east and west across the railway, and ends in a low sugar-loaf hill about forty feet high. This ridge was reported to be entrenched and held by the Turk, and this ridge we were ordered to attack and capture.

Our first brigade had moved forward on the east side of the railway, but had been eventually held up mainly by enfilade artillery fire coming from positions stretching nearer to the river than to the railway. The whole brigade was now lying stretched out in extended order some three thousand yards ahead of us, with the left regiment touching the railway embankment. Our brigade had followed for some miles in their tracks, but was now ordered to cross to the western side of the railway by a small culvert and form up for the main attack some three or four miles south of the enemy's position. This was done without difficulty, the third brigade of our Division being held in support on our left rear.

After the orders and dispositions had been explained to every man, magazines were charged, and the Highland regiment deployed into attack formation in four lines of half-platoons in file. A battalion of Gurkhas was deployed on our left, and the third battalion of the brigade was formed up in rear of the Gurkhas. The main attack was thus to be delivered on a narrow front of five hundred yards, the machine-gun company being held in readiness to support the assaulting battalions as occasion offered. The first-line transport with the reserve ammunition halted near the culvert through which we had crossed the railway, but both our reserve ammunition and our Aide Post were brought forward as the attack developed.



At 3-30 p.m. we advanced, and soon had passed the two field batteries covering our front, and reached, without opposition, the lines of the first brigade extended on the east side of the railway. About four o'clock our patrols reported that the enemy was holding not only the main ridge that joins Sugar Loaf Hill with the railway embankment, but also a broken line of low sandhills a few hundred yards in front of the main position. At the same time some shrapnel burst over our leading platoons, and a party of Turks, directly on our left, opened long-range rifle fire. The battalion halted under cover of some sandhills, the final orders were issued, and half a company and two machine-guns were sent to clear the enemy firing from our left flank.

Happily the latter retired at once when fired on, and the battalion advanced in perfect order, the small columns extending into line as the enemy's rifle fire grew more and more severe. The Turkish batteries now kept up a regular fire of both shrapnel and high-explosive shell, but these detonated badly, and our losses on this account were small. A rafale of shrapnel will of course destroy any infantry moving in the open, but intermittent shelling, although it appears to be terribly destructive, will not stop resolute troops determined to press forward. But the farther we advanced the more evident it became that Sugar Loaf Hill was the key of the position. It stood seven or eight hundred yards west of the railway, and the enemy's riflemen from the entrenchments on top brought a deadly enfilade fire to bear on our advancing lines. The Gurkhas moving in echelon on our left escaped this, but to meet it and to dominate the enemy's fire, the Highlanders were compelled to extend to the left, their supporting platoons being used to fill up the gap. Two machine-gun sections also pressed gallantly forward, and in spite of continual and heavy losses from now onwards, did much to help us to gain superiority of fire over the enemy.

The battle was now divided into two parts. On our left the Turks had been forced to retire from their advanced positions, but on the right they still held some trenches among the broken ground near the railway, two hundred yards in advance of the main position on the ridge; but on the right our losses had not been so severe, nor was our line so extended.

On the left the Turk occupied no advanced positions, but he outflanked our line, and the enfilade fire from his commanding positions was causing such losses that it seemed impossible for our men to continue the advance without strong artillery support. Unfortunately this was not forthcoming at the time, because our covering batteries had found they were at extreme range, and were now in the act of moving to a more forward position. If an attacking line wavers and halts within close range of an enemy entrenched, that attack is done until supports come up and give it again an impetus forward. But there were now few supports available, and the moment most critical.

Yet all along our front small sections of Highlanders still continued to rise up, make a rush forward, and fling themselves down, weaker perhaps by two or three of their number, but another thirty yards nearer the enemy. Now the last supports pressed into the firing line, and as one leader fell, another took his place. One platoon changed commanders six times in as many minutes, but a lance-corporal led the remaining men with the same dash and judgment as his seniors.



It was at this time our Lewis gun teams lost so heavily. The weight of the gun and the extra ammunition carried renders their movements slower than that of their comrades, and consequently the teams offer a better target as well as one specially sought for by the enemy. The officer in charge, Lieut. Gillespie, had brought up two of our guns in the endeavour to subdue the fire from Sugar Loaf Hill, but at the very moment of giving the range his left arm was shattered. He had been light-weight champion of India, and as he now continued fighting, I could not but compare him to his famous predecessor in the Ring, who carried on the fight with one arm broken. I know those brave, brown eyes of his never flinched in pain, nor wavered in doubt, as he made his way back, not to the Aide Post, but in order to bring forward two more guns for the same purpose. But, alas! while directing their fire he was seen by some Turkish riflemen and fell, never again to rise, his breast pierced by two bullets.

A number of staff and artillery officers witnessed this attack by a Highland regiment. Some were chiefly impressed by so much individual gallantry, others at the example of what can be achieved by collective determination. Was it the result of hard and constant training, perfect discipline, or esprit de corps that at this moment of trial made these thin extended lines work as if by clockwork to their own saving and the victory of our arms?

It was during this advance of five hundred yards that the regiment met with its heaviest losses. With four officers and half his men killed or wounded, and an enemy machine-gun pouring a continuous stream of bullets on to the remainder, the situation is not a happy one for a company sergeant-major, and this was the situation which the young Sergeant-Major Ben Houston of our left company had now to face. He turned round, as so often in battle one does turn round, hoping to see supports pushing forward, and a bullet seared an ugly line across both shoulders. Without waiting, he led his men on, and another bullet struck his bayonet; fragments cut his face and made his eye swell, so that he could not see out of it. Yet when I met him at midnight after the last charge, he told me much of the battle and nothing of his wounds. High praise is due to those who, although weakened by wounds, continue fighting and undertaking fresh responsibilities.

The company next on the left fared little better, but these two companies forced the enemy back, and occupied the low sandhills some two hundred yards in advance of his main position, and there waited, by order, before making the final assault. The left company lost two signallers killed, and the next company had four signallers all wounded in the act of calling for more ammunition. Ammunition was brought up, but, though many brave men fell and many brave deeds were done, nothing was carried out with greater bravery, nothing contributed more to our success, than the maintenance of communication throughout the battle.



The left half battalion, reduced to less than half of its original numbers, was in need of help. This help it now gained from the action of the companies on the right. Undismayed by the enemy shell and rifle fire, these two companies, gallantly assisted by the Indian battalion on the east side of the railway, pressed forward, and at five o'clock charged the enemy, and drove him out of his advanced trenches at the point of the bayonet. The very quickness of the manoeuvre had ensured its success, though it was only achieved with considerable loss to ourselves as well as to the Turk. But the gain was great. Small parties of Highlanders now crept forward among the sand-dunes, two Lewis guns were taken to the east side of the railway embankment, and a hot enfilade fire was brought to bear on the enemy main position. So effective was this that the Turks were forced to evacuate the ridge for some 400 yards nearest the railway, and even from Sugar Loaf Hill his fire weakened, and the relief to our left half battalion and to the Gurkhas was correspondingly great. Streams of wounded Turks were also seen passing from the ridge to the rear: it was not only the British who suffered losses on the 14th of March.

The situation was now greatly in our favour, and it only wanted a final charge to complete the success. But this assault could not be made without either artillery support or the arrival of fresh troops to fill up our depleted and extended ranks. Our Colonel, therefore, ordered all companies to wait in the positions they had gained, but to be ready to charge immediately after the batteries had bombarded the enemy trenches. Consequently, during the next hour both sides remained on the defensive.

Little ironies pursue us through life; in battle Death sometimes comes with a touch so swift and so ironical that we are made to fear God truly.

Englishmen have learned now the meaning of the saying, dear to the French soldier, "de ne pas s'en faire," and in the lull of battle before the bombardment, Sergeant Strachan and Cleek Smith talked of old times. There had been nine Strachans in the regiment when we landed in France two and a half years ago, one of whom was then my orderly. "Any news this morning?" I would sometimes ask.—"Nothing much, sir, only another of the Strachans was killed last night." My orderly had become a sergeant, but the other eight were no longer with the battalion. They had all left, "on command." "Yes," said Cleek Smith, "I wonder why it is so many poor chaps get it the minute they join the regiment, while fellows like you and me go through one show after another and never get a scratch." Scarce a bullet was fired during that half-hour, yet as a full stop to his question came one that found a way to that gallant heart, which had never failed him in the most critical fight, nor on the most dangerous duty when out scouting. Cleek Smith, you know the answer now to an even greater Riddle than the one you put to the last of the Strachans. No man liveth unto himself, and whoever dies in battle, dies for his regiment, his country, and the cause.

The telephone plays an important part in open warfare, as it does in the trenches, and though the Brigade Signalling Officer and many of his men were killed, intermittent communication was kept up throughout the battle between the battalion, the covering batteries, and the Brigade Commander. The value of this was now extreme. By telephone our Colonel communicated his intentions to the firing line, and thus prevented those sporadic attacks by independent platoons, at once so gallant, so ineffective, and so deadly in losses. By telephone he explained the situation to the Brigadier, who ordered up half a battalion of another Highland regiment, old friends of ours, but never more wanted than now, and by telephone he arranged that the batteries should bombard as heavily as possible the trenches on the right of Sugar Loaf Hill, the bombardment to begin at 6.25 and to last for six minutes.



During this hour rifle fire grew less and less, artillery firing ceased. High above the battlefield some crested larks were singing, even as they sing on a quiet evening over the trenches in France, as they sing over the fields at home. A few green and bronze bee-eaters hovered almost like hawks over the sand-dunes, and a cloud of sandgrouse were swinging and swerving across the open ground that divided Highlander from Turk. The wind had died quite away, and a scent of alyssum filled the air. There was no movement among the troops, there was none even among the slender wild grasses of the plain. The sun, that had been blazing all through the day, now hung low in the western sky. The sound of battle was dying, even as the day was dying. "The world was like a nun, breathless in adoration." And we soldiers, absorbed in this remote corner of the world war, intent on the hour immediately before us, lay there breathless in expectancy. Suddenly our 18-pounders opened gun fire. With rare precision shrapnel burst all along the enemy trenches, and at 6-30, as the shelling slackened in intensity, the Highlanders rose as one man, their bayonets gleaming in the setting sun, and, with the Gurkhas on their left, rushed across the open. There was little work for the bayonet. The Turk fled as our men closed, and the position so long and hardly fought for was won.

The Highlanders had gained their objective, but had lost heavily in officers and men. The remainder were exhausted by the labours of the past twenty-four hours and by lack of water; but when orders came to push forward and capture Mushaidie railway station there was no feeling of doubt or hesitation. Some time was spent in re-organisation, in bringing up and distributing reserve ammunition; the two left companies were amalgamated, and an officer detailed to act with the right wing of the Gurkhas, since that battalion, though it had not suffered such heavy losses in men, had only two officers left unwounded. The two companies of the supporting Highland battalion now arrived and were detailed as a reserve to our attacking line. The third regiment of our brigade had been operating far out on the left flank, and were now occupying Sugar Loaf Hill, from which they had driven the last remaining Turks, and the Indian regiment on the right of the railway, which had fought so well with us throughout the battle, received orders to halt for the night.

And thus we advanced alone; but though hungry, thirsty, weary, worn, there was full confidence among all ranks, and one resolve united all—the determination to press forward and complete the rout of the enemy.

A mile ahead we passed a position, strongly entrenched but luckily deserted by the Turks, and it was not for another two miles, when our patrols came close to the station, that the enemy was reported in any numbers. There the patrols described a scene of considerable confusion. A train was shunting, and many Turks rushing about and shouting orders. Our patrols were working half a mile ahead of the regiment, so in spite of every effort it was half an hour later before we filed silently past the station, formed up once again for the attack, and charged with the bayonet. The enemy fired a few shots, one of our men and a few Turks were killed and a few more made prisoners; but the rest fled and disappeared into the night, leaving piles of saddlery, ammunition, and food behind them. But the last train had left Mushaidie, and with it vanished our hopes of captured guns and prisoners. However, we had achieved the task allotted to us, and the moment the necessary pickets had been posted the rest of us forgot exhaustion, forgot victory, in the most profound sleep.



We had achieved our task, and, as the corps commander wrote, we had made the 14th of March a red-letter day for all time in the history of the Regiment. I have told the story of these thirty hours of continuous marching and fighting from the point of view of a regimental officer. This is in battle, some say always, very limited in outlook. But certain things are shown clear. Waste of energy brings waste of life and victory thrown away. A regimental leader has, with his many other burdens, to endure the intolerable toil of taking thought, and of transmitting thought without pause into action. And those who work with him are not mere figures, not only items of a unit, but are intimate friends whose lives he must devote himself to preserve, whose lives he must be ready to sacrifice as freely as his own. It is well that we neither know nor decide the issues of life and death. There is, I think, a second meaning in the oft-quoted line of Lucretius, Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur ira. Our prayers are not attended to perhaps because of their very foolishness. I believe when we congratulate ourselves after a battle that we and our friends are still in the land of the living, that in some mysterious way there may be a counterpart on the other side of the veil—that there may be welcome and rejoicing also on behalf of those who have passed through the portals of death. Although every mother's son of us must experience a feeling of dread in stepping alone into the night that no man knows, must be filled with sorrow and move with a heavy heart when his comrades and those filled with the glory of youth and promise depart, still we can, all of us, also feel thankful for the loan of their help and strength. Two years of war, two years of living constantly in the presence of death, has brought to me, as it has brought to many, the assurance that it is well equally with those who remain here as it surely is with those who pass away. And we have no other answer to the last question ever asked by Cleek Smith. "It is only after the sun hath set that the owls of Athenae wing their flight." The following day the battalion remained at Mushaidie; a dust storm was blowing and many reports came in of the enemy returning to make a counter-attack. But his defeat had been too severe and he made no real resistance again till we encountered him a month or so later some 30 miles further north near Istabulat. Meanwhile our brigade received orders to concentrate on the Tigris at the Babi Bend, some six miles east of Mushaidie. A pleasant week of comparative rest was spent there and then, there being no signs of the enemy, we were withdrawn to our old camping ground in the palm groves, that line the river bank between Kazimain and the City of Baghdad. The re-organisation of our platoons after the recent losses was completed, and fresh equipment and clothing issued. Two companies were split up on outpost duty, but even so time was found for military training and for some visits to the City, an equal pleasure to officers and men. The Colonel was sent for to Army Headquarters, and General Maude was most complimentary to the Regiment for their great fight.



In April the division moved forward, and the brigade again marched past the Babi Bend, northward of Mushaidie to Beled Station, where we had a few days' halt and some of us shot a number of sandgrouse. Thence we pressed on till we overtook the Turks entrenched beyond the Median Wall, holding a strong position about Istabulat. From this it was necessary to drive them, our objective being the railhead at Samarrah.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE BATTLE THAT WON SAMARRAH.

The following article by Brigadier-General A. G. Wauchope, C.M.G., D.S.O., is here republished with permission:

There stretches, some sixty miles north of Baghdad, from the Tigris to the Euphrates, a famous fortified line known to the Greeks as the Median Wall. It is skilfully constructed in tiers of mud bricks to a height fully thirty feet above the level of the plain, the whole has been covered over by a thick layer of earth protecting the bricks these many centuries from wind and weather, for the Median Wall is, so some say, the oldest building in all the world. It formed certainly the outer line of the defences of the Kingdom of Babylon under Nebuchadnezzar II, when it ran from Opis on the Tigris to Hit on the Euphrates and this line in far earlier times marked the boundary between the two ancient peoples of Akkad and Sumer, and was probably even then a fortification of first importance.

However that may be, it stands to-day the most prominent landmark in all this district of the Tigris valley; though broken, tumbledown mounds represent the great wall towards the Euphrates, for many miles near the Tigris it stands without a break, with strong projecting bastions to give flank defence every forty or fifty yards, and at wider intervals the wall rises so as to form some sort of keep or watch tower.



Whoever built the great wall built it for the purposes of war, and no building, I venture to say, has ever had so many battles fought within its neighbourhood. Every race through every age, Aryan and Turanian, Babylonian and Assyrian, Median and Persian, armies from Greece and armies from Rome, have, during the past thousands of years, slaughtered each other with extraordinary thoroughness below these mud bastions; and more recently, but with the same seeming futility, Turk has murdered Arab and Arab Turk, the destruction of villages, mosques and canals marking, as of old, the soldiers sacrifice to the God of War.

Standing this morning on these ancient ramparts, I watch the sun rise over this land which, once so rich and fertile, now shows hardly a sign of human habitation, this country where not a tree nor a house has been allowed for many years to stand, over which the blight of misrule has lain as a curse for centuries and I see yet one more army going forth to battle; once again columns of armed men sweep forth to encounter similar columns, to kill and to capture within sight of the Median Wall. And watching these columns of Englishmen and Highlanders, of Hindus, Gurkhas and bearded Sikhs advancing to the coming conflict, one felt the conviction that this struggle was being fought for the sake of principles more lofty, for ends more permanent, for aims less fugitive, for issues of higher service to the cause of humanity, than those that had animated the innumerable and bloody conflicts of the past.

The delta of the Tigris ends a few miles below Samarrah. That is to say, whoever holds the district about Samarrah controls the waters of the Tigris. For lower down in the Baghdad valaiyet the river in its annual flood deposits so much mud on its bed as to raise itself in course of centuries, above the level of the plain. Consequently, artificial banks about three feet high have been built all along the river, and were these to be cut during the flood season, the whole surrounding country would be inundated and the spring crops destroyed. This renders the districts of Samarrah of great natural importance, and the fact that the Germans had completed a railway between Baghdad and Samarrah, made it also desirable for the British to hold it.

The country here differs little from the rest of the Tigris valley, the same level plain of loam and mud, a strip of two or three miles nearest the river highly irrigated, and at this season, green with young corn and barley; further afield the bare, brown, featureless desert stretching out endlessly in every direction. Dawn and dusk transform this shadowless wilderness into a land of the most wonderful colour and atmosphere, but throughout the heat of the day the glare and dust make it hateful to white men. And even in April, the shade temperature runs to 110 degrees Fahrenheit, and where troops march in this country without trees there is no shade from the sun, no escape from the heat.



Besides the Median Wall, there remain two outward and visible signs of the older civilisation that flourished in happier times. There are, at frequent intervals, low flat mounds composed of old sunbaked bricks the sites of ancient cities; so numerous are these that they seem to justify the Chaldean proverb, boasting of the prosperity of the people, that a cock may spring from house to house without lighting on the ground from Babylon to the sea. The other are the walls of the canals that served to irrigate the country between the two rivers. These canals have for centuries past been dry and useless, but their walls, twenty or thirty feet high, and many miles in length, remain as the most conspicuous monument of the fallen greatness of Mesopotamia. That they will again be put to their original purpose was the confident assertion of Sir William Willcocks, and with Turkish misrule finally banished from the land, a few years may see these canals again filled with water, bringing wealth and plenty to a happier generation. But to-day they seem to have but the one use of acting as tactical features on the battlefield, as was indeed the case in this fight near Istabulat.

For some days before the 31st April, the British had been collecting behind the Median Wall, facing the Turkish position which lay some three miles to the north of the Wall, and some twelve miles south of Samarrah.

A very well selected position it proved, and a very difficult one to attack. The Turkish left rested securely on a re-entrant bend of the Tigris. Thence the line ran east and west across the Dujail River, and continued for a mile along a dry canal, until it met the railway a little to the north of Istabulat station. Both the Railway and the Dujail run roughly north-west to south-east, but the Tigris towards Samarrah bends due west. Consequently the Turks by refusing their right were able to rest that flank on the ruins of the ancient city of Istabulat. These ruins consisted of some low mounds and the high walls of an old canal that had run from the Tigris across the present line of the Railway four miles to the north of the station. The whole country was absolutely flat and bare, except for the broken and uneven walls of the Dujail River and Istabulat Canal.

The so-called Dujail River is a canal that takes off from the right bank of the Tigris some four miles north of the Median Wall. It has been dug and re-dug, till it now flows below the level of the surrounding country, but its walls are fully twenty feet high, and so form the one dominant tactical feature of the level Tigris plain in this district. A couple of miles south of Istabulat station, the Dujail cuts through the Median Wall about a mile to the east of the Railway, which runs from Baghdad through the Median Wall, past Istabulat, and so on to Samarrah.

By the 18th April, the British were holding that part of the Median Wall that runs roughly for a couple of miles eastwards from the Dujail River to the River Tigris, other troops, also in rear of the Median Wall, continued our line on the west bank of the Dujail, and a third body was held in reserve. The open nature of the country, and the difficulty of distinguishing the enemy's main position from his advanced trenches, made the problem of attack uncommonly difficult, and the thorough bombardment of his trenches before assault almost impossible.

The key to the position was obviously the high double wall of the Dujail River. These walls are a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards wide at the top, and being very broken and uneven give some cover to skirmishers in attack or defence. An attack along this line is also made somewhat easier by a small ridge of sandhills that had originally formed the walls of an old canal, which flowed in earlier centuries between the Tigris and the Dujail. Photographs taken by our airmen showed that the Turks had strengthened their line where it crossed the Dujail, by building a strong redoubt on its eastern bank some 300 yards long by 150 broad; here too were a number of machine gun emplacements and, a little in rear, six or eight gun pits.

On the 18th a Highland Regiment pushed forward a strong patrol along the east bank of the Dujail, an Indian Battalion doing the same on the west bank, the two patrols working together and giving each other mutual support. Both Regiments encountered the Turkish outposts within six hundred yards, and after driving them some distance back, the patrols were withdrawn at night.

As an attack on the enemy position was decided on, the Battalion Commander suggested that a line of strong points should be constructed about a mile ahead of our line, that when these had been made good, a second line of strong points a further eight hundred yards in advance should be constructed, so that by this means the final assault might be made from a short distance to the enemy's main position, and also by this means artillery officers would be able to locate definitely the enemy's main trenches and the guns could be brought up within 2,000 yards before the Infantry should assault. This idea was adopted.

During the 19th the Highland Regiment, by some fine patrol work, drove the enemy advanced troops back with little loss, and during the night three strong points were built a mile in advance, two on the east and one on the west bank of the Dujail. From these points both the Highlanders and the Punjabis skirmished further forward on the 20th, and the enemy's position was becoming seriously threatened with but little loss to ourselves.

One incident in this patrol fighting must not pass unnoted. An artillery officer had been sent forward in the morning to observe the ground and enemy positions from our strong point on the east bank of the Dujail. It was a task of considerable danger, for already several of our men had been hit by enemy snipers, and at this moment a wounded man was being carried back by the stretcher bearers. The artillery officer had crawled a little ahead of the Strong Point in order to observe more freely, but his gallantry was ill rewarded by a bullet striking him and incapacitating him from coming back, or even escaping from his exposed position. Easton had been Sergeant of the Highlanders stretcher bearers since his predecessor had been killed when recovering wounded, and he himself had won the Distinguished Conduct Medal for a fine piece of work in France. Without hesitation Easton now ran forward from the strong point and, though the enemy snipers were dropping bullets all round, roughly bandaged the officer, picked him up on his back, staggered down to the river and got him across under the welcome shelter of the other bank, though the stream was over six feet deep. For this action Sergeant Easton now wears a bar to his Distinguished Conduct Medal.



On the 20th it was definitely decided that the situation demanded an immediate advance, and a direct frontal attack was ordered to take place at dawn on the following morning. One force were to lead the attack at 5 a.m. on the east of the Dujail, the Highlanders to advance along the east bank of that canal, and one Company of the Punjabis on the west bank. On the right of the Highlanders a battalion of Gurkhas were to advance from the right strong point with a battalion of Indian Infantry in echelon on their right near the Tigris, another battalion being held in reserve. When this attack had gained ground a second force was to advance over the bare plain on the west of the Dujail, and their right to gain touch with the left of the Company of Punjabis on the Dujail bank. The objectives of the main attack were the redoubt, and the two bridges which crossed the Dujail immediately above it. A third force was held back in reserve.

The orders were thus very clear, and the plan simple; the main difficulty was to ensure effective artillery co-operation, since to come within effective range of the Redoubt our batteries would be forced to move forward over very open ground, and counter-battery work would be obviously hard to arrange.

The frontage of broken ground open to the Highlanders was but little over 150 yards; the Commanding Officer therefore wisely determined to attack on a narrow frontage of two platoons rather than expose his men on the bare plain, and with the Dujail giving the direction to his left, trust to the impetus of eight lines to force the enemy's position.

Precisely at 5 a.m., the covering batteries opened fire on the enemy outposts, the leading platoons charged forward and, without pausing to fire, but advancing by a series of swift rushes drove back the Turkish advanced troops about a thousand yards from our strong points. A few Turks were bayonetted, a number more shot by the fire of a well-placed Lewis gun, but the surprise of the attack and the rapidity of its execution saved our men from any severe loss during this first advance. But as our leading platoons drew near to the enemy main positions, they came under an enfilade fire from the west bank of the Dujail, and a number of men had to swing round to the left, and, from the crest of the wall, reply to the enemy not two hundred yards distant on the opposite bank. The succeeding lines, however, pressed forward, section after section rushed on to the help of their comrades, every rise and every knoll along the river was held by snipers and the battle developed into a fierce contest between skirmishers. But it was not of long duration. Shortly after 6 o'clock nearly two miles of country had been cleared of the enemy, our men were not to be denied, and the leading section of Highlanders made a gallant charge and rushed the main redoubt, killing a certain number of its defenders and driving out the remainder. The success of the attack was greatly due to the rapidity, but its very rapidity had led to considerable intervals occurring between the eight lines that had originally advanced to the assault. Some platoons had been forced to engage the enemy on the opposite bank, others with Lewis guns were keeping down the fire of the enemy who were holding several small trenches ahead, and a number of men had fallen, never to rise again; consequently for the first few minutes there were less than a hundred men in the redoubt, and these were subject to a heavy fire from their front, and enfilading fire from their left.



Now was the moment when artillery support was most needed. But as before explained, this, owing to the nature of the ground, had been most difficult to arrange. The batteries posted under cover of the Median Wall, soon found themselves, as the enemy retired, at extreme range, had been obliged in consequence to advance to new positions. This is a matter which takes longer than the actual bringing up of the guns; fresh observations must be made by artillery officers, new telephone wires must be made, new communications established, and correct ranges ascertained of the new targets before effective support can be given. This was all being done, but under great difficulties, because the enemy had established a strong barrage in rear of the assaulting troops. Many of our gunners were hit, especially among the telephone operators; consequently, just at this critical time, there was little or no artillery support to be had.

Now the Turk is a stubborn fighter. His men on the west bank of the Dujail had not yet been driven so far back as those opposing the Highlanders, and they now opened a very galling fire from the west bank at a range of only two to four hundred yards. The Redoubt had been taken at 6-15 a.m. Within ten minutes the Turks on the east bank had organised a strong body to make a counter attack, and these headed by parties of bombers, rushed the Redoubt, drove the few defenders back, and held its front and side faces. But their triumph was short lived. It was a proud boast of the Highlanders that of all the miles of entrenchments that had at one time or another been entrusted to them not one yard had even been surrendered to the enemy; it was their stern resolve that no Highlander should lie unavenged, that no man who wore the Red Haeckle should give his life in vain. The Redoubt had once been theirs, and in its trenches lay the bodies of their comrades who had died to hold it. It was the Redoubt they had set forth to capture; now more than ever they were determined that not a live Turk should dispute possession. The platoons that had originally formed the rear waves were now fast coming up, bombs and bombers were called for, and an immediate counter-attack organised. But the losses were now very heavy. Within a minute, one Captain and two Subalterns were killed, two Captains and two Subalterns wounded, and a heavy proportion among the rank and file also fell. The smallest hesitation, the slightest wavering, and the Turks had made good their success. But there was no hesitation and, though only one unwounded officer remained, there was no wavering. The bombers dashed forward, every available man followed, and within fifteen minutes of its loss, the entire Redoubt was recaptured and its forward trenches rapidly consolidated. The Highlanders' boast still held true, the Red Haeckle was again victorious.

Many were the dead, many the wounded to testify to the gallant deeds that led to this success. An Artillery Officer, who witnessed the assault, wrote:—

"That day the Highlanders without help won a victory that only those who saw it can realise was among the most gallant fought in this war."



What is the secret, whence comes this spirit, of the wave of bravery that seizes soldiers at these great moments? Many of the very men who charged forward had, but ten minutes before, been driven back, many of their comrades lay dead beside them, they had lost their accustomed leaders, shrapnel and heavy shell were bursting among them, and when the cry for bombs and bombers was given, it must have seemed to many to be but the prelude to disaster, the vain cry for further and useless sacrifice. What is it then that stops the individual from hanging back, from letting others lead, from justifying himself to himself by continuing to fire in comparative safety at longer ranges? Who would detect him? Might he not argue plausibly enough, that his covering fire would be of more assistance to his comrades than his rushing uselessly forward at their head? The secret of it lies in esprit de corps, in the willing surrender by the individual of his freedom of action, by the voluntary sacrifice of the individual for the good of all. And greater love hath no man than this:—that he giveth his life for his friend.

The gallantry of those who lie dead, whether British, or Indian, or Turk cannot be told, but one incident that was witnessed by several is worthy of record. The Redoubt measured several hundred yards on its front and side faces, and the attackers were few in number. One of these, Private Melvin had by some chance so damaged his bayonet that he could not fix it on his rifle. Throwing that weapon aside, he rushed forward where his comrades were scarce, and the enemy in plenty, and encountered a group of Turks single handed. With bayonet and fist he brought three to the ground, the remaining six, stunned by the violence of his attack, surrendered, and were brought back by this brave old soldier in triumph to his Company. For this deed Private Melvin was subsequently awarded the Victoria Cross.



Battalion Headquarters now moved up close in rear of the Redoubt, the telephonic communication was established with the Brigade, and Companies reorganised according to their losses. And fortunate it was that this was done with no loss of time. For the Turk had intended to hold this line of entrenchments, of which the Redoubt was the key, and the main defence of the two bridges, throughout the summer, and he was not going to surrender the position without further struggle. Two counter-attacks formed up and advanced against the front face of the Redoubt, a few Turks got within fifty or a hundred yards of the Redoubt, but each attack was broken up by steady rifle fire and Lewis gun fire, and our position made more secure. A little nullah ran from the Turks' second position to within fifty yards of the Redoubt, and up this channel from time to time he sent parties of bombers, but these were easily held in check. A group of machine guns from further up the Dujail swept the crest of the hard-won parapet, and men less experienced in war had suffered more than did those who bore the Red Haeckle. But no experience of war could save men from the high explosive shell which burst throughout the day among the trenches, destroying indiscriminately parapet and defenders. These 5.9 shell the Highlanders had known all too well in France, and the number of bursts reminded our men rather of a bombardment in the trenches of Flanders than the shell fire ordinary to Mesopotamia. And to this bombardment the defenders of the Redoubt were subject from time to time throughout that long day. It is a constant puzzle, why in this life so many things that are at first merely disagreeable are allowed to make so great a noise and to continue for so long a time that they become almost unbearable. It is a question that often confronts one at a comic opera, always in the near neighbourhood of a gramophone, but never with such persistent irritation as when undergoing a bombardment from high explosive shell. Nothing is more trying to the nerves, for and from it there is no escape. This war has been defined as a war, not of infantry, nor of artillery, but of effective co-operation between the two. The nature of the ground, and the skill with which the enemy had chosen his positions had prevented this co-operation from being as effective as is usual in our army, and this in spite of every effort being made by our Artillery Officers, and in spite of many casualties among their batteries. In consequence, the enemy's batteries were never silenced, and kept up a heavy fire throughout the day, and our losses were heavy. On our right the Gurkhas had advanced in gallant style at the same time as the Highlanders, and in spite of a stubborn resistance had pushed the enemy back along the line of the old canal, and kept up with our advance. Then with the sand dunes dipped to the level of the plain and the salient bend of the Tigris narrowed their front, the Gurkhas swung round to their left in a most soldierly fashion, and, despite, heavy losses, joined the Highlanders on the Dujail, and for the rest of the day shared the honours and the dangers of the defence of the Redoubt and the trenches near it. The Indian Regiment advancing still further on the right had met with misfortune, for, on reaching a small rise in the ground, their lines had been suddenly swept with machine gun fire at a range of three hundred yards. Many men fell within the space of a few minutes, and it became necessary to bring up the Reserve Battalion to their assistance. Consequently no further advance was possible on this flank, nor on the west flank did the situation offer any greater promise. The Punjabi Regiment on the immediate left of the Highlanders had fought under great difficulties, but with such determination that they eventually dug themselves in opposite the Redoubt on the west bank of the Dujail, though half their men were killed or wounded. On their left again, another Highland Battalion, old friends of ours, both in peace and war, had pressed the enemy back, and occupied some eight hundred yards of an old irrigation channel that ran westward from the Dujail towards the railway. Further to the west, this dry channel remained in the hands of the Turks, and bombing attacks were carried on throughout the day. Another battalion had also suffered considerably from shell fire, and was posted in echelon on the left rear.

It was evident that without a renewed bombardment and strong reinforcements, no further advance was possible on either side. We had advanced a couple of miles, driven the enemy from his strongest positions, and gained our immediate objectives. It was evident, that to the day following must be left the final advance and capture of Samarrah.

This account of the fighting near Samarrah purports to give no general view of the whole action. Enough, if something clear is shown of the part played by one Regiment, and of the fighting by its immediate neighbours. The Highlanders had had some tough battles during the past few months, and during this day's fighting had lost over a third of their total strength in killed and wounded.

On the next morning it was found that the Turks had retired several miles on to the ruins of the ancient city of Istabulat, but it was not until the afternoon that the battle was continued. Then it was fought with the same violence, and with equal stubbornness as on the day before. Again the Turk was driven out of his positions, and again, like the gallant fighter he is, he held on till nightfall. Orders were given to renew the attack at dawn on the third day of the battle, but as day broke the patrols of Highlanders sent back word that the enemy had evacuated his forward positions, and we advanced in attack formation straight on Samarrah. The Highlanders were leading, and passed through the ancient ruins and the several lines of enemy trenches; those trenches held so stubbornly by the Turk, empty now, save for groups of dead bodies and a few of unhappy wounded who had not been moved during the night. Surely the world offers no scene more pitiful than that of a battlefield after action. I know, by personal experience, the suffering entailed in lying day and night untended with broken limbs, the utter weariness from wounds, and the exhaustion after conflict, the tragedy of all surroundings, the cries of those who cry for help that never comes, a passionate longing for death alternating with a craven fear of foe and wandering marauder, and above all, the horror of the great vultures swinging round and round in ever closer circles. Little of the pomp or ceremony of war was seen by the Highlanders as they marched that morning through the Turkish entrenchments at the head of the British troops, the first regiment to enter Samarrah as they had marched some six weeks earlier the first to enter Baghdad.

Such is the story of the part played by the Highland Regiment in this hard-fought battle, but though I have told the tale from the point of view of a Regimental Officer, I am not forgetful of the deeds of others. My endeavour has been to give a picture of events as one man meets them in a course of a day's fighting, not to give a narrative of deeds of which I know little and saw nothing. But of the gallant help given by the Gurkhas I have spoken and, after some experience of war both in France and in Mesopotamia, I add my testimony to the value of the loyal services rendered by so many of our Indian Regiments; it will stand to their honour for all time that they have fought throughout these years so bravely and so faithfully. War is a noble comradeship, and the ties that now bind the Indian and British troops will not easily be severed.

The relationship between British and Indian officers is invariably happy; difficulties of language, however, sometimes give a little humour to a long campaign. When I was first given command of a Brigade formed of both British and Indian Battalions I made a point of speaking to each Indian officer, and saying something in appreciation of his services. To this the senior Indian officer replied with the usual Eastern compliments, and then added:—

"Many Generals have come to see us, but each usually spares us but a couple of minutes; you, in your kindness, have spoken to each of us for half an hour and we shall indeed fight bravely for you, for of all Generals, you, O Brigadier, are the most long minded."



CHAPTER IX.

On April 20th, Colonel J. Stewart took over the command of the Regiment, and Colonel A. G. Wauchope became a Brigadier.

It was a great blow to the Regiment to lose their Colonel, and very difficult for any other man coming after him; but the new Colonel proved a worthy successor to the old and the Regiment was fortunate in having two such men in succession to guard its interests and its honour. Months later when I congratulated the General on the successes of his old Regiment and on his promotion, he said, "Yes, yes, B., the Regiment was splendid, but I am not too sure that the other matter is altogether a matter for congratulation." I felt certain that had it been left to his own choice he would have preferred to remain with his Highlanders than accept any higher command.

With the capture of Samarrah it can be said that the winter campaign of 1916-1917 came to an end. We held the rail head of the Baghdad railway and had captured sixteen locomotives, 224 trucks and two barges of ammunition. Already at the end of April, the heat of the coming summer which was to prove the hottest on record could be felt, and the thermometer in that month reached 114 deg. in the shade.

The actual fighting was for the time being practically over, and it was decided that Samarrah should be our advanced position on the Tigris. Preparations were at once commenced to make the position a strong one, and sufficient to hold up any attack which the enemy might have in view; but the summer coming on the Turks were not anxious to be aggressive and took up their most advanced positions some five or six miles further up the Tigris.

The summer was consequently passed under much more pleasant conditions than in 1916. The Turks being far distant a number of officers and men were granted a month's leave to India; tents, rations and comforts were plentiful. The Regiment was at full strength and, despite the heat, the men maintained their health throughout the summer. The main task was the digging of several lines of trenches in front of the old city of Samarrah, but training was carried on continuously so that the Regiment might be ready as always for whatever operations were to take place in the coming cold weather. The Battalion had now spent nearly two years in Mesopotamia, and of the thousand who landed not two hundred remained, and of these many had been wounded. What contrasts the two years offer. In the first period one effort succeeded another, but neither training nor valour were sufficient to redress the balance of the scales, and despite every sacrifice Kut fell. Then came the months when we held San-i-yat, when there were few men and arduous duties, intolerable heat and no comfort.

The spring of the second year was marked by a succession of victories, and achievements for all time memorable; the forcing of San-i-yat, the entry to Baghdad, the battles of Mushaidie and Istabulat; and finally the last few months of comparative peace and plenty.

Throughout the two years the indomitable spirit of the Battalion showed itself true to the finest traditions of the Regiment, and it is open to question whether memory of the hundred survivors fighting their way back from the Turkish trenches on the 21st of January, does not extort as much admiration as the memory of the three companies, after 30 hours of continuous marching and successful fighting, charging at midnight into the station at Mushaidie.

SUMMARY OF OFFICER CASUALTIES suffered by the 2nd Bn. during its service in Mesopotamia,

July 1916 to May 1917.

Killed in Action 16 Includes Captain Duncan, R.A.M.C., and 2/Lieut. A. E. Sinclair Died from wounds 8 ... Died from disease 1 ... Missing 2 Captain D. C. Hamilton Johnstone and 2/Lieut. H. F. Forrester. Both wounded Prisoners of War 1 2/Lieut. A. H. Quine. Wounded in Action 42 Includes officers wounded more than once, each occasion being counted separately. Does not include cases where officers have subsequently died from wounds. Invalided to India 50 As above, includes instances of invaliding more than one as separate items. Also includes all cases of officers wounded who were in consequence thereof invalided.

DETAILS OF OFFICER CASUALTIES in important battles.

Killed Died in from action. wounds. Wounded. Missing P. of W. 7th January, 1916 3 .. 16 .. .. 21st January, 1916 2 .. 3 1 .. 22nd April, 1916 5 .. 2 1 .. 14th March, 1917 1 4 5 .. .. 21st April, 1917 2 3 4 .. 1 ——————————————————————— TOTAL 13 7 30 2 1

LIST OF OFFICERS who served with the 2nd Battalion in Mesopotamia, 1916-17.

BRIG.-GENERAL A. G. WAUCHOPE, C.M.G., D.S.O. Embarked, Marseilles, 5th December, 1915. Disembarked, Basrah, 31st December, 1915. Wounded in Action, 7th January, 1916. Invalided to India, 16th January, 1916. Re-embarked, Bombay, 9th May, 1916. Disembarked, Basrah, 18th May, 1916. To be Bt.-Lt.-Colonel, 2nd June, 1916. Promotion to rank of Major ante-dated to 15th September 1914. (London Gaz., dated 14th September, 1916). To be Bt.-Colonel, 23rd December, 1916. Assumed Command, Brigade. 20th April, 1917. To be Bde. Commander, 11th May, 1917.