Tuesday, April 11, 1916. H.M.S. “Snakefly.” Monday night we got off the Imogene on to the Snakefly, one of the twelve Admiralty gunboats built for this expedition. The Admiralty don’t seem able to stop building them, now they’ve started. They were sent out here in pieces, then put together. One has been taken by the Turks.[24] The Snakefly draws 2 feet 9 inches only. Webster is her captain. We slept on deck all right. We saw practically no traffic at first on the river, and could not understand why we did not pass boats coming back empty for supplies. We passed many Indian troops, mainly on the left bank of the river; also isolated stations with telegraph-masters as chiefs. These men go out two or four miles into the desert with only a couple of rifles. These small posts contain the maximum of boredom and anxiety, because there is nothing to do, and if any force of Arabs came along they would be done in. An enterprising Indian sentry fired at us in the night. We passed dour, scowling Arabs in villages and groups on the bank with flocks and herds, buffaloes and goats, men more savage than the Philistines, but armed with rifles. An almost endless column of our cavalry wound its way through marsh and desert, over the green grass, and here and there fires sent up their smoke where meals were cooked. It struck me as more curious than the Australians round the Pyramids. At 6 p.m. we reached Ali Gharbi. I talked to an officer of the —th Punjabis. They were all very depressed at the failure of Aylmer’s attack on the 8th March.... Townshend was the man they swore by. The 4th Devons, where John Kennaway is, are said to be at the front. There are flies that bite like bulldogs everywhere. Each night we have had lightning over towards Kut like a sort of malignant and fantastic Star of Bethlehem to light us on.
Wednesday, April 12, 1916. H.M.S. “Snakefly.” Last night the weather broke. The Admiral’s got a cabin about 6 feet long by 2-1/2 across. He put his head out of the window and said: “Would any of you fellows like to come in?” It was a beastly night. Our clothes are the thinnest tropical khaki, and they tear like a woman’s veil. There was no shelter. I got into a conning-tower, like a telescope, but finally walked about. There seemed to be people’s faces everywhere on deck, though there was a lot of water. I kept my dictionary dry. Now it’s fine and bright. At seven this morning, when I had gone below, a Boy Scout of eighteen, one of the crew, went overboard. He was rescued almost at once, and swam lightly and gallantly. He was lucky. To-day is the 12th, my lucky day, but I have only got one extra shirt and one blanket, and a Turkish dictionary for a pillow....
Everything seems greater and greater chaos.... We started this campaign against one of the great military Powers of the world with two brigades of Indians, who ought not to have been used at all, if it could have been avoided, on this ground, which to them is holy. We started with the wrong type of boat, and also Indian Generals who looked on the expedition as a frontier campaign.... If we fail to relieve Townshend, I suppose the best thing to do would be to cut our losses and retire to Kurna and hold that line, but if we do that the Turks can fortify the river and make it impregnable. We ran on to the bank last night, and stayed there. We spent an uncomfortable wet night, but got off all right this morning. There was an encampment close by. We couldn’t make out if they were friends or enemies; the Admiral didn’t bother. We all want a clean pair of socks and fewer mosquitoes.
Thursday, April 13, 1916. Near Sanayat. It was at noon yesterday that we arrived at Ali Gharbi. The Admiral saw General Lake. We are cruelly handicapped by lacking transport and not being able to get it. In the afternoon I crossed the river and saw General Gilman at Felahiya. I was very glad to see him again. He had been on our left with the 13th Division at Anafarta. One of the best men I have met. We had a long talk.... Then I came back with Dick Bevan. What’s happened is this: we got in such a state about Townshend being able to hold out till the end of January that we rushed up troops and attacked without the possibility of making preparation for the wounded, ambulances, etc., and we failed.... Townshend has got 5,000 Arabs with him, and the bouches inutiles have told enormously, but T. has apparently promised these people his protection and nothing will make him send them away, and he’s right. The strain on the men with him has been very great indeed; some of the older men are very sick. No one thinks that he’s got a dog’s chance of getting out. The —th were badly cut up at Anafarta, but they kept their keenness, and at the beginning of this show their officers could not keep them back, on the 8th of March. The fight on the 9th of April was very bad luck. All the men were very cold and tired. A hot cup of coffee might have made the whole difference.... We shall have to face a lot of trouble with the Arabs and look out for Nasryah, which could be cut off by marsh Arabs from Basra way and turned into another Kut. Most people think that the line that we ought to defend is Nasryah—Amara—Ahwaz. The Admiral’s going to Nasryah. I suggested his taking General Gillman, and he is off too. Every one is raging against the economy of India, especially a man called Meyer, the Treasury member for the Council of India. He is said to have refused to give any help. In this flat land they need observation balloons; none forthcoming. They asked for transport from May to Christmas, and then got one launch....
I saw the Admiral in the evening. He was cheered after talking to General Gorringe. We walked by the river. We met some of the Black Watch—clean, smart men. There was a great bridge of boats, without rails, swaying and tossing in the hurricane and covered with driven foam from the raging yellow water. Across this there lurched Madrassis, Sudanese, terrified cavalry horses, mules that seemed to think that there was only water on one side, and that they would be on dry land if they jumped off on the other. We are out of range, but shelling is going on and one can fix points in the landscape by bursts. The eternal flatness is depressing. This morning I saw Leachman, the political officer. He has had a lot of adventures in Arabia—a very good fellow, whom everybody likes, which is rare.... He was against our going farther back than Sheikh Saad, both from the point of view of strategy and also because it would be playing a low game on our own friendlies. The Arabs on the bank between Sheikh Saad and Ali Gharbi are, apparently, past praying for.
This afternoon I went out with the Admiral.... Townshend has been telegraphing to-day. His men are dying of starvation. The whole situation is pitiful. Here the troops have been on half rations for some time. Our boats are many, but insufficient. They are of every kind, from an Irawaddy steamer to the steamers of the Gordon Relief Expedition and L.C.C. boats. We met some of the 6th Devons, and I asked them if the way the Admiral was going was safe. They said: “We be strangers here zur,” as if they were Exeter men in Taunton.... The rain is making the relief practically impossible. Last night there was heavy firing and we advanced 2,000 yards, but the main positions are still untaken. To-night I met Percy Herbert, very useful, as my tropical khaki is coming to pieces.
Friday, April 14, 1916. H.M.S. “Stonefly.” ... A furious wind got up and drove mountains of yellow water before it, against the stream. The skies were black. Captain Nunn, the Senior Naval Officer, wanted to go to Sheikh Saad. I wanted to go to H.Q. to see Colonel Beach, Chief of the Intelligence, who has written to me to come. We got off with difficulty into the stream. It was like a monstrous snake, heaving and coiling. We only drew 3 feet and we were very top-heavy with iron, and I thought we were bound to turn over. I said so to Singleton, the captain, who said: “I quite agree. It serves them d——d well right if we do, for sending us out in this weather.” This thought pleased him, though it did not satisfy me. Nunn said it was the worst weather he had seen in the year. I got off at Wadi thankfully, and went to see Beach, but it was not all over yet. He wanted to go and see how the bridge of boats was standing the strain. The end of the bridge of boats had been removed to let the steamers through, though there were none passing. It was twisting like an eel trying to get free, and going up and down like a moving staircase in agony. There was foam and gloom and strain and fury and the screaming of the timber, but the bridge held. The engineers were calmly smoking their pipes at the end, wondering in a detached way if it would hold. I prefer fighting any day to this sort of thing. Then I went walking with Beach. He asked me to be ready in case Townshend wanted me. I dined with General Lake, General Money, Williams and Dent; capital fellows. Had an interesting time after dinner. The future is doubtful. If we have to retire, we shall have a double loss of prestige, Kut gone and our own retreat. When we want to advance later, we shall find all our present positions fortified against us. A retreat will also involve the abandonment of our friendlies. This campaign has taught me why we have been called perfide Albion. It’s very simple. We embark upon a campaign without any forethought at all. Then, naturally we get into extreme difficulties. After that, we talk to the natives, telling them quite truthfully that we have got magnificent principles of truth, justice, tolerance, etc., that where the British Raj is all creeds are free. They like these principles so much that they forget to count our guns. Then, principles or no principles, we have got to retreat before a vastly superior force, and the people who have come in with us get strafed. Then they all say “perfide Albion,” though it’s really nobody’s fault—sometimes not even the fault of the Government.
I slept on the Malamir, on deck. It was very wet in the night, but I kept fairly dry.
Saturday, April 15, 1916. “Malamir.” I went and saw the Turkish prisoners in one of the most desolate camps on earth; some Albanians amongst them. They said there were munition factories in Bagdad, that 4,000 Turks had gone to Persia—they did not know if it was to the oil-field at Basra or against the Russians. It’s Basra and the oil-field that are important to us.
Lunched aboard the Malamir. General Lake was very kind. I went off on an Irawaddy steamer, a “P” boat. The Captain told appalling stories of the wounded on board after Ctesiphon. It took them seventeen days to Amara, which sounds incredible. They had to turn back three times at Wadi and return to Kut, because they were heavily attacked at Wadi by Kurds. General Nixon had to turn back too. The transport was so overcrowded that men were pushed overboard. I met an Indian political officer on board ... (and again).... He said one thing to me that was not indiscreet. Once at Abazai he had seen a Pathan wrestling. Before he wrestled he held up his hands, and cried an invocation: “Dynamis” (Might). He thought it must have come from the days of Alexander. He had been in the Dujaila fight on March 8th, and talked about it, unhappily. He also said that the corruption of the Babus at Basra was awful.