“Please keep the newspaper cuttings of all our doings out here. Now don’t forget that, as I shall love to read ’em over afterwards, and we don’t get much news of our own doings out here.
“I think I shall manage to wangle the ten-shilling note as soon as we get settled somewhere, sometime. Please thank —— and —— and all other well-wishers and contributors for me separately and individually.
“Yes, I received a very nice little parcel from St Silas’s, but have not had any time at all to acknowledge it, as you can guess by your mail, which always takes precedence with me.... I expect we shall be slackening off out here shortly as ’tis getting very hot again, especially from about 10 A.M. to 4 P.M., when every effort is an effort and one sweats rivers, lying down—in fact, it’s really worse lying down than knocking slowly, one doesn’t seem to notice the heat so much then. We have to make bivouacs with our blankets thrown across swords and twigs stuck in the ground to get a little shelter from the sun, as there is next to no shadow here, and the sun is nearly overhead again. Roll on, we’ve just about got J. Turk beat to the wide now, so it’s about time we had a long rest. Then we are made to clean and polish everything up, and it’s some job that, as all steelwork is eaten in with rust, and everything more or less the same since we came on service.
“Well, my candle has just given me the wink and I’m finishing this by moonlight, so cheerio to all of you. Hope you are all in the pink.... Take great care of yourself, mother, love, and all the others as well. Am fit as a fiddle myself when I can get enough to eat.”
Private Mortimer was decorated soon afterwards with the Military Medal for bravery in action, and after reading his letter one is not surprised to hear it.
The Regiment, it may be observed, though weak in men, and still weaker in horses, was now strong in officers again. Colonel Richardson and others wounded at Lajj had returned, and though one or two more had since been hit, they were doing well. But one, unhappily, had lost his life in a very sad way: Captain Newton, who had commanded a squadron at Lajj, and had afterwards gone through the April fighting, was drowned in the Tigris on the night of the 25th.
He stepped overboard in the darkness from a river steamer, and though life-belts were thrown out at once he was swept away by the current, which was very strong. A boat was lowered, but could find no trace of him. Captain Newton’s death was much deplored. An officer on the staff of the Division, in a private letter to his own people, writes of him: “Poor Tiger Newton is dead. He walked overboard and fell into the Tigris on his way to India on leave.... He is a great loss to the Thirteenth Hussars, where he was immensely popular. He was a splendid character, was greatly esteemed by all who came in contact with him, and exercised great influence in his Regiment.” His Colonel wrote: “Quite apart from my personal sorrow, I know how grieved the whole Regiment will be, for both officers and men were very fond of him.” And General Jones, who had commanded the Brigade at Lajj, wrote of him as follows: “At the fighting at Lajj, where the Thirteenth Hussars had such heavy losses, he was the Senior Officer left of the squadrons in the most advanced line, and was in constant communication with me by telephone after the charge. It was an anxious time for most of us, and perhaps especially for me, as I was commanding the Brigade. Nothing cheered me so much as his cheery voice. We were momentarily expecting a counter-attack in greatly superior strength, and our Battery was stricken silent; but he never lost heart, and I am sure his example went far in putting heart into his men, if such was necessary. It did me good anyhow. It was also greatly due to him that at dusk we were able to carry away the officers and men who were lying wounded between the lines. Had he been alive now, his name would have gone in for a Mention in Despatches. He died as many others have died, but he has not lived in vain.”
In other letters mention is made of “his outspoken Christian life,” and he is described as “one whom everybody loved.”
It may be noted that in the meantime one of the Thirteenth subalterns, 2nd Lieutenant J. H. Hirsch, had passed through a very tragic experience, being on board the Cameronian transport, on the way to join, with several men of the Regiment, when she was torpedoed in the Mediterranean. His letter describing the affair shows that “there was no panic,” all the men going quietly to their posts on deck, and setting to work to lower the boats. The two destroyers which formed the escort “were simply wonderful—the rate they came alongside! When we were hit they dashed round, making a smoke-screen. Then they dashed round the boats and rafts and swimmers, like two old hens guarding their young, picking up men when it was possible, who were shouting for help. A lot we passed were drowned, as they had put their life-belts on wrong....”
Then the submarine was sighted. The writer was by that time on board one of the destroyers. “The other destroyer had signalled there was a submarine near us, so the guns were manned, and we saw the wake of the beast, so we fired and only just missed.” Luckily the shot was enough to drive away the submarine, otherwise the slaughter might have been terrible, for, according to Lieutenant Hirsch, “there were about 1200 men on the destroyer and about 50 officers,” and she was, of course, exposing herself to great danger in trying to save life. However, no second torpedo was fired, and after circling round the wreckage for some hours after the ship had gone down, the destroyers made for Malta, and in spite of a “very, very rough” sea, succeeded in getting there safely next day. But 140 lives were lost, among them the lives of eight privates of the Thirteenth.