War in the Garden of Eden

by Kermit Roosevelt

Once we had reached the far side we set out to pick our way round Kirkuk to get astride the road leading thence to Altun Kupri. This is the main route from Baghdad to Mosul, the chief city on the upper Tigris, across the river from the ruins of Nineveh. It was a difficult task finding a way practicable for the cars, as the ground was still soft from the recent rains. It was impossible to keep defiladed from Turkish observation, but we did not supply them with much in the way of a target. At length we got round to the road, and started to advance down it to Kirkuk. The town, in common with so many others in that part of the country, is built on a hill. The Hamawand Kurds are inveterate raiders, and good fortifications are needed to withstand them. As we came out upon the road we caught sight of our cavalry preparing to attack. The Turks were putting up a stout resistance, with darkness fast coming to their aid. After approaching close to the town, we were ordered to return to a deserted village for the night, prepared to go through in the early morning.

The co-ordinates of the village were given, and we easily found it on the map; but it was quite another proposition to locate it physically. To add to our difficulties, the sky clouded over and pitchy blackness settled down. It soon started to rain, so we felt that the best we could do was select as likely a spot as came to hand and wait for morning. I made up my mind that the front seat of a van, uncomfortable and cramped as it was, would prove the best bed for the night. My estimate was correct, for at midnight the light drizzle, that was scarcely more than a Scotch mist, turned into a wild, torrential downpour that all but washed away my companions. The waterproof flap that I had rigged withstood the onslaughts of wind and rain in a fashion that was as gratifying as it was unexpected. The vivid flashes of lightning showed the little dry ravine beside us converted into a roaring, swirling torrent. The water was rushing past beneath the cars, half-way up to their hubs. A large field hospital had been set up close to the banks of the stream at Taza. We afterward heard that the river had risen so rapidly that many of the tents and a few ambulances were washed away.

By morning it had settled down into a steady, businesslike downpour. We found that we were inextricably caught in among some low hills. There was not the slightest chance of moving the fighting cars; they were bogged down to the axle. There was no alternative other than to wait until the rain stopped and the mud dried. Fortunately our emergency rations were still untouched.

Our infantry went over at dawn, and won through into the town. If it had not been for the rain we would have made some important captures. As it was, the Turks destroyed the bridge across the Hasa Su and retreated to Altun Kupri by the road on the farther bank. From a hill near by we watched everything, powerless to help in any way.

At noon the sky unexpectedly cleared and the sun came out. We unloaded a Ford van, and with much pushing and no little spade work managed to get it down to a road running in the direction of Kirkuk. We found the surface equal to the light car, and slowly made our way to the outskirts of the town, with occasional halts where digging and shoving were required. We satisfied ourselves that, given a little sun, we could bring the armored cars out of their bog and through to the town.

Kirkuk

Next morning, in spite of the fact that more rain had fallen during the night, I set to work on my tenders, and at length succeeded in putting them all in Kirkuk. We were billeted in the citadel, a finely built, substantial affair, with a courtyard that we could turn into a good garage. The Turks had left in great haste, and, although they had attempted a wholesale destruction of everything that they could not take, they had been only partially successful. In my room I found a quantity of pamphlets describing the American army—with diagrams of insignia, and pictures of fully equipped soldiers of the different branches of the service. There was also a map of the United States showing the population by States. The text was, of course, in Turkish and the printing excellently done. What the purpose might be I could not make out.

The wherefore of another booklet was more obvious. It was an illustrated account of alleged British atrocities. Most of the pictures purported to have been taken in the Sudan, and showed decapitated negroes. Some I am convinced were pictures of the Armenian massacres that the Turks had themselves taken and in a thrifty moment put to this useful purpose. This pamphlet was printed at the press in Kirkuk.

There were a number of excellent buildings—mainly workshops and armories, but the best was the hospital. The long corridors and deep windows of the wards looked very cool. An up-to-date impression was given by the individual patient charts, with the headings for the different diagnoses printed in Turkish and French. The doctors were mainly Armenians. The occupants were all suffering from malnutrition, and there was a great deal of starvation in the town.