Mons, Anzac and Kut

by Edward Melotte

  The Royal Indian Marine, freed from the obstruction of India, seem to have done pretty well. A lot of the boats and barges sent here have been sunk on the way. The Admiralty goes on building these river Fly boats like anything. The Mantis, with Bernard Buxton141 captain, draws 5 feet and was intended for the Danube in the days when we were going to have taken Constantinople. On Wednesday, the 18th, we fired a good deal from the Waterfly. We are not well situated for firing as we have to fire across hospitals, and if they are shelled we have only ourselves to blame.

  The Dorsets and Norfolks, the Oxfords and the Devons, have done the most splendid fighting. Twenty-two Dorsets saved the whole situation at Ahwaz. Harris, the captain of this boat, who is only twenty-five, has been through all this. He was the first up here, with Leachman. It’s awfully bad luck on Townshend, being shut up again, the second time counting Chitral. He consults a Napoleonic dictionary at all crises. Since the siege of Chitral he has always worked eight hours a day at his profession. Harris is a good fellow but rather spoilt by everyone saying that he is a great character. Batson the second-in-command was a stockbroker, a quiet fellow, very bored with the war and the Tigris.

  On Wednesday there was a tremendous fire. It sounded like a nearer Helles. The Turks are three miles from us. They lollop down mines that go on the bank, but this morning one was found close by the ship. I examined a Turk this morning, who said that three Army Corps were coming up under Mehemed Ali Pasha. I asked him if they could outflank us on the Hai, to try and turn this place into a second Kut. ‘That,’ he said, ‘has always been my opinion.’

  Yesterday, the 20th, I went to HQ in the morning, then talked to Dick and got maps revised and borrowed a horse for the afternoon from Percy Herbert, and got another from Costello for Bevan. (Here I should explain that I had promised my friend Bevan, the sailor, to take him up into the front-line trenches. He had never been in a front trench before, and was determined to see what it was like.)

  Diary. General Gillman gave Bevan and me luncheon. Then Bevan and I rode out to the camp of the 18th Division, where I found Brownrigg142, now become a Colonel, with malaria. I congratulated and condoled. I asked if we could get into the front trench, and Colonel Hillard said it was unhealthy. Bevan said that didn’t matter, and I asked exactly how unhealthy. Hillard said that there were no communication trenches and we should have machine-gun fire at 80 yards. No rations being sent up till nightfall. We walked first down a communication trench which we had to leave and then across the open to Crofton’s Tower which was an observation post in the flat land, of mud walls and a few sandbags; they had dug down about six feet into the ground. The Turks were about 800 to 900 yards away. It is incredible that they leave this place standing or that they allow people to walk about in the way in which they do. It couldn’t have been done in Gallipoli. There are other observation posts behind; simply a ladder rising from the flat land and men on it. Going out we passed quail and partridge, and wild flowers, also we came on the smells of the battlefield. When we were at Crofton’s Post a furious bombardment by us began. I cursed myself for not having asked what the plans of the afternoon were going to be. Bevan was delighted. Shells rushed overhead from all sides. I heard the scream of two premature bursts and saw the raised filthy great columns of heaving smoke. It was a wonderful picture; the brilliant light of the afternoon, the desert cut by the river, and the gleam of the gun flashes with the smouldering smoke columns. They said that two nights ago the Gurkhas had not broken. They had used all their ammunition, and as many Turkish rifles as they could get, and had then fought with their kukris. At one place an unfortunate mistake had happened. We mistook some Indians for Turks and we bombarded each other. We went back almost deafened by our own guns. I expected a heavy Turkish return every minute, which without a scrap of cover would have been unpleasant; but beyond the ticking of a machine gun nothing happened. Maude said his men had been tired and tired to death, but he thought they were more rested now. His casualties had been heavy with nineteen officers killed and wounded in the last two days, simply trench work, no attack. He said you can’t go on doing that with the new Army. It strains regulars if they lose their officers like that, the new Army can’t stand it.

  The more one sees of this foul country, the more convinced does one become that we are a seafaring people who have been lured to disaster by this river. These lines are quite untenable without two railways, one across to Nasriyah and one up the river to Bagdad. At the present moment, we can be cut off if they can put in guns anywhere down the river and sink a couple of our boats, or one in the narrows, the channel is then blocked. To prevent this we ought to have a patrol up and down the river. All this depends on having a policy and we have none. Lawrence143 arrived at Wadi on Wednesday. He said Cox had no policy and did not mean to have a policy. I heard from John Kennaway yesterday at Sheikh Saad, asking me to go there. No news obtainable about poor Bobby Palmer144. There is not much doubt he must have been killed. I am very sad for his people.

  Easter Sunday, April 23rd, 1916. HMS Greenfly. A curious morning, with the whole of Pushti Kuh standing blue and clear. The last two foreigners who visited that place were given the choice of embracing Islam or of being pushed over the precipice. They chose the precipice.

  Yesterday morning we attacked. The 19th Brigade, the Black Watch, the 20th and the 28th. We took two trenches, but were driven back to our own. I was sent post-haste to HQ for news. There was a great sand-storm and men and artillery going through it like phantoms. Overhead it was lurid. One could hardly breathe for the sand. High columns of it rushed across the desert. The repulse looks as if the end’s very close. I came back to the Admiral and was sent back again. This time they said there was a truce, and if the Admiral would give permission, I was to go to the front at once. I came back and found the Admiral and went on shore. I got a horse and rode up to the front as fast as I could, passing a good many dead and wounded. I went to General Younghusband145 and asked if I could be of any use to him. He said the truce was ending. The Turks had pushed out white flags, which he said was very decent of them. We had done the same. They were now taking our kit, and his staff were keen to shoot at them. I asked him to give them notice, which he did. He talked about possible terms for Townshend and whether the Turks would let him and his men go out with the honours of war and be on parole until peace. I said I could see no quid pro quo, and even if one existed we couldn’t use it because of our ignorance of the Russian situation. He said he had meant to attack across 600 yards but the water had narrowed our front to 300. The Turkish trenches were half full of water, and many of our men fell and got their rifles filled with mud. The Turks attacked again at once. He said there weren’t many troops who would do that when a brigade like the 19th had been through them. Not much left of the 19th. Beautiful men, they were. I talked to a lot of them these last days. He said as far as he was concerned there was no Arab question. He gave orders to shoot every Arab on sight, so we weren’t bothered with them.

  I rode back on a horse that was always falling down. In the evening I crossed the river with the Admiral and rode up to the front with Beach. There was shelling going on, but nothing came near. The river was gorgeous in the sunset. Overhead the sand-grouse flew. We talked about the future. It seems to me that if we have got to retreat 130 miles it’s less bad for prestige to do it in one go. The Politicals’ point of view is that you should not retreat at all, but that, of course, has got to depend on military considerations. The Soldiers’ point of view is that you should not do your retreat in one go, because you do not kill so many of the enemy as if you fall back from one position to another; but then, I suppose, that cuts both ways. None of these soldiers have had any decorations since the beginning of the war. One of them said to me it made them unhappy, because they felt that they hadn’t done their duty. It’s an infernal shame. He was wounded and I asked him if he had gone on leave. He said: ‘Not much! I should have lost my job’; which would have been a pleasure to a good many men. Lawrence
is here, down with fever. Nunn also has had fever these last days. The atmosphere makes shooting difficult. Yesterday the Turks shot quite a lot at a mirage, splashing their bullets in the marsh. We often do the same. Curiously enough, I believe that we won the battle of Shaiba by virtue of a mirage. We saw a lot of Turks marching up against our position, and fired at them; these Turks were phantoms of men miles away; but it happened to be the only road by which they could bring up ammunition, and our firing prevented that. To-night the Julnar goes up the river on her journey. She has less speed than they thought.

  For various reasons I have barely mentioned the Julnar until now, though she had been very much in our thoughts. The Julnar was a river boat, and for some days past she had been preparing to set out upon her splendid, tragic mission. In her lay the last hope of General Townshend and his gallant force. Her freight was food, intended to prolong the resistance of the garrison until the relieving force was sufficiently strong to drive back the Turks and enter Kut. The writer of this diary has many heroic pictures in his mind, but no more heroic picture and no more glowing memory than the little Julnar steaming slowly up the flaming Tigris to meet the Turkish Army and her fate. Her Captains were Lieutenant Firman146 RN, and Lieutenant Commander Cowley147 RNVR, of Lynch’s Company, who had spent a long life navigating the River Tigris. When Admiral Wemyss called for volunteers, every man volunteered, for what was practically certain death. I asked again but was refused. Lieutenant Firman and Lieutenant Commander Cowley were both killed and both received posthumous VCs.

  Diary. April 23rd. HMS Greenfly. We are alongside the Mantis. I am sleeping in Firman’s cabin. He is down-stream, but he comes up to-night. Many men badly wounded yesterday, but all as cheerful as could be; one man with three bullets in his stomach, full of talk and oaths. Fifteen of the Dorsets have died in the nearest hospital and have been buried close by.

  This afternoon an Easter Service was held on board. The Padre made a good sermon three minutes long. It was a wonderful sight – the desert covered with our graves, mirages in the distance and the river glowing in the sun. At the end of the service the Julnar arrived. Firman is an attractive good-looking fellow. King, whom I met last year in Alexandretta, whither he had marched from Bagdad, is also here. When Buxton told the men of the hundred to one chance of the Julnar’s getting through, they volunteered to a man. Gieve waistcoats are being served out; the cannon’s sounding while they are loading the Julnar and the Black Watch are playing on the bagpipes close by. Overhead go the sand-grouse, calling and the river and the desert wind are sighing. It’s all like a dream. Even if she does get through, I don’t believe we can relieve Kut. The Turks will have time to consolidate their position and we shan’t be sent enough men from home to take them. If this attempt fails, I suppose we shall fall back to Sheikh Saad. I see three points: (1) Political. Don’t retreat. (2) Military. You’ve got to retreat, occupying as many positions as possible, in order to attrition the enemy. (3) If you do this last, you give the Turks the chance of saying they have beaten you in a number of battles. Probably retreat as little as possible is the best. A retreat may be more disastrous to us than the loss of Kut. While we hold Sheikh Saad, it’s difficult for them to outflank us on the right bank, and while we have the Vali of Pushti Kuh with us, they ought not to be able to get to Ahwaz. One wonders if they realize the supreme importance of at home and that if we no longer hold it we do not hold the Indian Ocean.

  Monday, April 24th, 1916. HMS Dragonfly. Firman came last night, and I sat next to him at dinner. A nice fellow but nervous and excitable. The Julnar could not start; she starts to-night. She had been held up by the bridge of boats at Sheikh Saad. The Commandant had refused to break it and the Julnar arrived here too late. I felt this might be my fault for not having seen to this in liaison work, but it is very difficult: if one worries people about that sort of obvious detail which is their job they are furious, if you don’t, this is the sort of thing that happens. To have made a success of this the Admiral ought to have turned it over to the Flag Captain to discuss with the military. Have partially but unostentatiously prepared the boat at Amara, sent her up here to be finally fortified in a night, then drawn a circle round this place to prevent spies carrying information and let her go. She starts to-night. I don’t think much chance of getting through, but with luck the men ought to be saved. I said to the Admiral in no case could Kut be saved even if she got through, because we shouldn’t be given the men to take the new position the Turks would make in the next three weeks. I also think that the fall of Kut may bring the Government down at home.

  I went ashore this morning and saw Leachman, then Colonel Beach. The flies are awful; one black web of them this morning; in one’s hair and eyes and mouth, in one’s bath and shaving-water, in one’s tea and in one’s towel. It’s a great nuisance being without Edward and having to do everything oneself, besides one’s work. It destroys all joy in war.

  Tuesday, April 25th, 1916. HMS Greenfly. A year ago to-day we landed at Anzac. To-day is the day of the fall of Kut, though the surrender may not be made for some time. Last night the Julnar left. I saw old Cowley, an old friend. He is to pilot her. He has been thirty-three years on this river. He is a proper Englishman. He laughed and chaffed with Philip Neville and me on the Julnar before starting. Firman was very glad to have got the job, and felt the responsibility. Everybody wanted to go. The sailors were moved. No cheers were allowed. They pushed off, almost stationary, into the river, that was a glory of light with the graceful mehailahs in an avenue on both sides of it, with masts and rigging a filigree against the gorgeous sunset. The faint bagpipes and the desert wind were the only music at their going. The Admiral told me to be ready to go out at any moment.

  This morning Colonel Beach came aboard and told me to hold myself in readiness. He proposed going out to see the Turks with Lawrence and myself. He talked about terms. It’s a very difficult thing to get terms when one side holds all the cards. If I was a Turk I should ask for unconditional surrender, treating Townshend very well as a gallant and honourable gentleman, but warning him that the future treatment of him and his men would depend on whether he destroyed his guns, etc. Beach said we had to telegraph home, and talked of money possibilities. I didn’t think that possible. I think we ought to try to prevent the Arabs being hung by the Turks, but my opinion is that Townshend would make much better terms for himself than we will get for him here.

  The Julnar has grounded above the Sinn position. Nothing is known of what happened to the crew.

  Wilfred Peek148 turned up here this afternoon, looking prosperous, and having seen John Kennaway down the stream. We have no terms to offer the Turks except money, general or local peace, or the evacuation of territory. I do not think the first is any good. We cannot offer the second because of ourselves and of Russia. The third might be all right, if it was not beyond Amarah. I hope in these negotiations we do not meet a Prussian Turk in Khalil.

  After lunch I met Captain Potter of the 6th Jats. In the last attack this had happened: A corporal had gone mad, and after rolling in filth, had come down the trench with a bomb in each hand, screaming that he was after Arabs. The parapet was low and there was much shrapnel and bullets. He threw the bombs into the middle of them, killing one and wounding the Colonel; Potter and the others were knocked out. They collared him, who had got a mammoth strength. Then the attack followed. Potter went as soon as he recovered. They had 600 yards to go under machine-gun fire, up to their knees in mud. The Turks were in the third trench; the first and second were filled with mud. Then the Turks put out a white flag, which suited us very well, as it allowed our men in the Turkish trenches to get away, which otherwise they could not have done. He thought that the Turks did it because they wanted to bring up reinforcements. He now commands a battalion of 84, all that are left of 650 men. He had been in practically every fight. He said they had reached the limits of human endurance. He had three officers, including himself, left. The Black Watch had been wiped out twice, a
nd other regiments simply annihilated. I told him that I thought there would be no more attacks. He said a Turkish prisoner, a friend of his, had said to him: ‘Let’s have a truce and both kill the Arabs.’ Beach says there is no question of going out to-day. I see no possibility of terms unless the Turks have got some arrière-pensèe. I went our shooting sand-grouse.

  Wednesday, April 26th, 1916. HMS Mantis. I am writing in great haste, till the sun goes down, as the mehailahs stream past on a river of fire, in the retreat that is slyly beginning.

  The news from home is good and bad. The Admiral read me two Government telegrams re. surrender last night. They are hopelessly optimistic about terms. Gorringe is not to make staying, retreating, etc, part of the conditions. We are to have another 5,000 men but they are to be used defensively. There are other things offered to the Turks. We must, if we can, save the Arabs with Townshend. This morning a telegram was read to me offering my and Lawrence’s services to Townshend. He is to carry on his own negotiations, I am to do what I can with the Turks. I read his latest telegrams: pathetic, the rather ostentatious mixture of military erudition mixed up with famine and the stinks of Kut. I hope he hasn’t mentioned my name to the Turks. He wired to Peek asking him to give me his valise. I suggested taking Peek as far as we could with provisions to follow if they would give him a safe conduct. I hoped to be able to persuade them to do this. I am nervous about our own safe conduct. If Townshend doesn’t make it clear that it’s a return ticket, we may be kept. I talked it over with Lake at some length this morning. He thinks that we are safe here or at Sheikh Saad; but of course the Turks may come down, plant a gun anywhere along the river and sink a ship. Burmester, Neville and Miller went off this morning with Dick Bevan. I have to enquire about Julnar, exchange of Turkish and English lady prisoners, and twenty-five civil Turkish prisoners. Also about Bobby Palmer.