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 H.Q. 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 many dead and wounded. I went to General Younghusband 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 was decent of them. We had done the same. A Staff officer came in to say that the Turks were taking our kit, and he wanted to fire on them. I was anxious we should not do so without giving warning.
We discussed the possibility of the Turks’ letting Townshend and his men come out with the honours of war, to be on parole till peace. I said that I could see no quid pro quo, and even if one existed, we, here, could not use it, because of our ignorance of the Russian situation.... The General said that the water had narrowed our front to 300 yards across which to attack. 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 were not many troops who would do that when a brigade like the 19th had been through them. There’s very little left of the 19th; beautiful men they were. I have talked to a lot of them these last days. 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. I asked the man who had said this if he had any leave. He said: “Not much! I should have lost my job.” That would have been quite a pleasure to a lot of men....
Lawrence has gone and got fever; Nunn also has it. The atmosphere makes shooting difficult. Yesterday the Turks shot quite a lot at a mirage, splashing their bullets about in the Suwekki 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 their 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 Lieut. Firman, R.N. and Lieut.-Comdr. Cowley, R.N.V.R., of Lynch’s Company, who had spent a long life in navigating the River Tigris.
When Admiral Wemyss called for volunteers, every man volunteered, for what was practically certain death. Lieut. Firman and Lieut.-Comdr. Cowley were both killed, and both received posthumous V.C.’s.
Diary. April 23rd. H.M.S. “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 Pusht i Kuh with us, they ought not to be able to get to Ahwaz. One wonders if they realize the supreme importance of Basra at home and that if we no longer hold it we do not hold the Indian Ocean.
Monday, April 24, 1916. H.M.S. “Dragonfly.” Firman came last night, and I sat next to him at dinner. The Julnar could not start; she starts to-night.