The Mussulman soldiers here will not eat horseflesh. Among their excuses is one that the signature from India of their High Priest's permission to eat it is not authentic. It came by wireless!
Generally speaking, the native soldier for first-rate work in the field is only third class if he has no khana (food).
February 25th.—The show downstream has been postponed. More reinforcements are necessary. History repeats itself, and we are down to three slices of bread a day. It is a lovely morning. Some gunners and Fritz, R.A.M.C., were around to dinner last night bringing their own bread, as is the correct order of things in Kut. We had an excellent roast of horse. For sweets we had rice and date juice, and instead of savoury, "post mortems" on Ctesiphon.
Our friend, Tudway, R.N., has been awarded the Military Cross for Essin services. This we celebrated.
February 26th.—Much firing downstream. Last night I dreamed that Alphonse (Townshend) was communicating with Aylmer by megaphone, all Kut excepting I being asleep. And this is what happened—
"There, Aylmer?"
"Of course."
"Why didn't you attack on the 22nd? What happened?"
"Sweet damn all. Didn't even get a look in!"
"Then why on earth didn't you? You've had your reinforcements and sufficient time."