With the Persian Expedition

by Martin Henry Donohoe

The Governor having set the example in offering his congratulations, all the local notables were quick to follow, and they told us what, curiously enough? we had never realized before—that throughout the long-drawn-out War they had always ardently wished for the complete triumph of the British. We accepted their assurances, although finding it difficult to reconcile them with many of their actions when our military fortunes were not of the brightest.

An official communication was sent off by messenger to the Turkish commander, informing him of the armistice, and inquiring if he were prepared to abide by its conditions and order a cessation of hostilities on his side. But the enemy had evidently had the news as soon as we had, and decided to end the war then and there. When our messenger reached the Turkish position, it was only to find the place abandoned, the commander and every man having gone, leaving no address. The messenger trekked after them for a day, but their haste was so great that he was unable even to come up with their rearguard, so he returned to Bijar with the letter undelivered. And that was the last we heard of the Turk in the region of Southern Kurdistan.

Everybody in Bijar was now our sincere friend and well-wisher. The Bazaar was beflagged in honour of our victory. Ours was the winning side, of that there could be no doubt. The Governor was more assiduous than ever in his professions of undying devotion, and he was always planning fresh schemes for manifesting his goodwill and friendship. He even hit upon the expedient of declaring an amnesty for Persians incarcerated in the local gaol. At his urgent solicitation, I visited the prison to decide upon the offenders who were to benefit by this generosity. It was a filthy, evil-smelling hole. Lying upon a stone floor were about a dozen offenders, all huddled together and chained like so many wild beasts. There was a Jew who had been arrested for debt. He wore round his neck a heavy iron collar like the joug of the Scottish pillory. He speedily divined my mission, and was clamorously insistent that he should be the first to be set free. Chained to him were two Persians, one of whom had been arrested for manslaughter and the other for petty larceny.

In this foetid den, and near the trio already mentioned, was a young Persian girl of attractive appearance—an unregenerate Magdalene, as it turned out, who had been put in chains for a breach of the somewhat elastic Persian law governing public morality. She alone made no protestation of innocence and no appeal for release. Perhaps that was why I suggested she should be the first to have her fetters struck off and be set free. She seemed dumbfounded at first, but on realizing that liberty awaited her, she burst into tears, and showed her gratitude by kissing my hand. It seemed a pity to leave the other poor wretches, however guilty they might have been, to rot in this terrible dungeon; so I availed myself to the full of the privilege of the amnesty and asked that all should be liberated, including the loquacious Jew debtor. This was done, and the poor, dazed creatures walked out of the prison doors and once more breathed the purer air of freedom.

With the granting of the armistice to Austria came the welcome orders for the British force to evacuate Bijar and retire to Hamadan. On news of Austria's defection from the side of her German ally becoming known, the Governor arrived to offer fresh felicitations. But a shadow clouded his beaming self-satisfied countenance when he learned that the British were to withdraw immediately. He became greatly perturbed at the news, for he feared the ever-present menace of Kurdish incursions, and trembled for the safety of Bijar and the wealth of its Bazaar. "What will become of us all?" he asked in despair. "When the British go, the Kurds will come, and then——" He made a significant gesture across his throat.

The Governor returned next day with a deputation of the inhabitants to ask that a British garrison might be left behind to carry out the duty which really devolved upon the Persian Government, that of protecting its subjects against acts of lawlessness. He pleaded hard and earnestly. They would find fuel, food, and quarters free for the soldiers who were to remain. First he suggested twenty, then a dozen, and finally he said, "Take pity on us, and send a message by the lightning-flash (wireless) to the British King asking him to permit three of his soldiers to remain here to protect the people. Then the Kurds will never bother us at all." It was certainly a tribute to our worth and fighting value. Gently but firmly the Governor had to be led to understand that it was impossible. The soldiers had homes and wives in far-off Faringistan across the Black Water; their duty was done, and home they must go.

The deputation set off with bowed heads and sorrowing hearts. It was kismet, and the decree of Destiny could not be set aside.

The wealthier inhabitants, however, made every effort to save themselves and their worldly possessions. All available transport was bought up at enhanced prices, and an exodus from Bijar preceded the British evacuation.

On November 7th Colonel Bridges and his column bade farewell to Bijar. The inhabitants, or at least those of them who were too poor to take flight, turned out en masse to speed the parting troops. They had got to know and to admire the splendid British soldier who is always a gentleman, who had fought the battle of the Persian people against Kurdish brigand and Turkish regular, and whose ofttimes scanty ration he was always ready to share with any roadside starveling who crossed his path. The Governor and a numerous retinue rode for two miles with the head of the column. On a bare plateau, exposed to a keen, biting wind, and under a lowering sky, the last farewells were cordially exchanged. The Governor told us that the British had left behind an ineffaceable record for justice and generosity. I think it was sincerely meant and devoid of any exaggeration.