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."
AT THE FRONT. THE REGIMENT IN THE SAN-I-YAT TRENCHES. Sergeant Bisset and Sergeant Murdoch both killed in action.
THAT ABLE ADMINISTRATOR GENERAL SIR PERCY L. COX AND AN INFLUENTIAL ARAB SHEIKH.