On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY 1917
A gun, a small brass piece, an interesting relic of other days, boomed forth the hour of noon from the lowest embrasure of a hill fort overlooking the cantonment of the —— Sikhs, and warned all and sundry that it was time for tiffin. The cloud of grey smoke which blew upward from the muzzle, and which was wafted ever so gently by the breeze floating toward the hill-top from the depths of the giant valley below, spread out into a thin white sheet, and, ascending slowly, first wrapped the time-scarred walls of the old fort in its embrace, and then, getting whiter as it ascended, reached the battlements above, and, percolating through the many gun embrasures, floated over the roof of the fortress, till the misty haze hung about the portals of the veranda of the Officers' Mess bungalow.
There were a dozen or more figures, dressed in khaki or in pure white, and stretched in every sort of attitude, and in every variety of chair, beneath that veranda. There were young subalterns, joined but a month or two since, and other subalterns whose hair at the temples was already showing some suspicion of grey while still they failed to get promotion. There was a rather stout old field officer who had seen more years of service in India than many of the subalterns could boast of in their lives. A rubicund, jolly officer he was, upon whom the detestable climate of the many stations in which he had been forced to serve had made not the slightest effect whatever. There was another officer, too, short, slim, and active as a cat, whose hair and moustache were as white as the snows capping the distant mountains. A glance told one intuitively that here, too, was an old soldier, an old Indian soldier, that is, who had spent the better part of a long life out in the shiney .
Hallo! What's the time? Anywhere near time for tiffin? asked one of the subs , whose cap had fallen over his face, and who now awakened from the reverie into which he had fallen, and suddenly started upward.
F. S. Brereton
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On the Road to Bagdad
A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
"THE CHIEF RETURNED THE OFFICER'S FRANK GAZE WITH A GLANCE WHICH TOLD OF COURAGE AND PRIDE"
Contents
Illustrations
ON THE ROAD TO BAGDAD
A Frontier Station
Geoffrey Keith and Another
Sketch Map of Mesopotamia
The Persian Gulf
The First Encounter
"WHAT WAS LEFT OF THOSE ARAB HORSEMEN SCATTERED AND FLED"
News of the Enemy
An Exploring-party
Major Joseph Douglas
The Motor-boat in Action
"GEOFF LEVELLED HIS OWN PIECE ON HIM"
A Cutting-out Expedition
Geoff and Philip manœuvre
"PHILIP HURLED HIMSELF AND HIS CAPTIVE OVER THE RAIL OF THE VESSEL"
A Soldiers' Battle
Esbul, the Armenian
"GEOFF TURNED, AND, DRAWING HIS REVOLVER, EMPTIED IT AT THE TWO MEN STILL PURSUING"
An Amphibious Expedition
Captured by the Enemy
Von Hildemaller's Intervention
Breaking Out
The Road to Bagdad
News of Douglas Pasha
"THE ARAB SET OFF ALONG A PATH WITHIN SOME TWENTY YARDS OF OUR HEROES"
Tracking the German
Success at Last
STORIES OF WAR