One often wonders at this constant habit of official inspections, when an unofficial inspection, made by an able man who strolled in unannounced, would be so much more intelligent and valuable. It is almost painful to witness the preparation that goes on before an official visit. There is a suggestion of something archaic, something inferior to the spirit of life, in the whole process; as if one were not an actively employed hospital, up to the neck in honest work, but merely a passive model on a large scale, in which everything was always in symmetrical rows, in which the patients were accustomed to be exactly parallel to the edges of their beds, in which everyone preferred to stand to attention if they could do so without dying. It was as if all the rough strong machinery of the place never went at full speed, but was carefully painted and polished until it looked like a musical box without a soul or a purpose.
These inspections were incessant and entirely suspended the work of the hospital while they lasted. When they occurred in the morning, it was necessary to hurry through the usual work, get everything cleaned up, assume full uniform, take all books, papers and games from the patients, and wait patiently for the arrival of the inspecting party. As often as not a message would come after a long delay, to say that the inspection would be postponed until a later hour.
During September one of the native interpreters came into the venereal tent as a patient. At the time it was under my care. There was, by the way, very little venereal disease amongst the troops, though, of course, the country is full of it. He was a little olive Jewish boy, alert in manner, and muscular, and a good linguist. When war broke out he was living in Baghdad, where he had learned French and English at one of the Mission Schools there, for he was a Christian. When Turkey came in, he fled from Baghdad with many others who wished to avoid conscription. He travelled down the river to Basra. He described the journey as very bad, with little food and a constant fear of being caught. On reaching Basra he heard rumours of our coming expedition, but the most extreme apathy existed in the town. The Turks were indifferent, walking about smoking cigarettes and "making the shoulders to rise a leetle" as they talked. But they kept a watchful eye on the Arabs. When the Turks evacuated Basra a panic ensued. He was living at the time in a merchant's house and they barricaded the doors and windows and got out any weapons they could find. The Arabs from the plains poured into the town and began to loot. They looted the customs house in particular, and other official places. He saw many street fights in the white dust under the glare of the sun, but he said it was usually the Arab looters fighting amongst themselves. Their fights would last a long time, the men circling round one another with knives, or sniping from street corners. There was a great deal of musket firing at night. This state of lawlessness went on for three days, and then we made our first appearance in the form of a gun-boat that fired three rounds from one of her guns, "Not to hit something, but to make a salaam." The barricaded ones felt more comfortable. When the Sixth Division marched in he became smitten by the general appearance of these veterans, and hearing that interpreters were required, made an application and was accepted. He marched up with the Division to Kut, and eventually on to Ctesiphon. "It was such a peety," he remarked, "for we did all know perfectly well—for I had told them—that the inhabitants of Baghdad would destroy us themselves." I asked him what the city was like and if it was safe in peace times. "Oh, it is all the same in the whole country," he said. "It is all unsafe unless you theenk. You must always theenk a lot in this country, and not be in a hurry." At Ctesiphon he said that our troops, a division strong, fought wonderfully and had beaten the Turks, who were far more numerous, but a fresh division from Constantinople arrived in time to alter the complexion of affairs. In the rout, he apparently managed to crawl on to a steamer full of wounded. It stuck on the way down and was surrounded by Arabs, who shouted from the darkness for them to surrender. They had a machine-gun and got through. The Arabs, he said, did not cause any trouble on our Lines of Communication until the retreat began, and then they began work with enthusiasm. At Kut he went through the siege. At the surrender he had the foresight to disguise himself as an Arab. The Turks hanged a lot of interpreters. He escaped and lay low, wondering how to get down the river. "The Turks did not treat the British soldiers very well. The officers, oh, yes. But the men, no. There was leetle to eat." Two months later, when things were quieter, he went to a party of Arabs who were going down the river and made an offer. "I did not trust them, so I went to a Christian house and left three pounds there, and then I gave them three pounds and told them if I arrived safely I would write a letter and they could get the other money when they came back." The Arabs, finding no way of doing him in—after much thinking, I suppose—agreed and they set off. They went down the Shatt-el-Hai way, to the Euphrates, and after a lot of trouble, he got through to the British lines, where he resumed his duties as interpreter.
He was a curious mixture of daring and cowardice, like most of the natives in Mesopotamia. He was very pleased with the hospital, but expressed a crafty sentiment. "You have too many hospitals," he said. "The Turks do not have these hospitals, for then all their men would become sick. It is nicer to be in a hospital than in a desert." This thought brings to the memory an incident that occurred in one of the wards. A new case was admitted, and next morning the doctor overhauled him. He found nothing wrong. "Well, what is the matter with you?"
"There ain't nothing the matter," was the reply. "You see it's like this, sir. My pal Bill, in my platoon, he was out of 'orspital day before yesterday, and he says: 'Ginger, me boy, if you want a nice bed for ter sleep in, such as you've forgotten the sight of, you go into 'orspital.' So next day I reports myself sick, carrying on a lot and the new doctor what joined us last week, 'e sends me straight 'ere. And they washes me all over, and tucks me up between the sheets, and I've 'ad the finest sleep since I came to this 'ere blooming country, sixteen months ago. And I'd be obliged, sir, if you'd discharge me."
A great many men suffered from bad teeth, and the suitable treatment of their cases became a problem. In the ordinary establishment of a general hospital, in the Army, there are about thirty medical officers, but no provision is made for dentists. In Mesopotamia decay of the teeth was rapid. Dentists in small numbers were sent from India. I hesitate to put down the amount that one dentist told me he was making each month. We had, for some time, only one dentist, and his waiting list was several hundred cases, all requiring urgent attention. Some of the bad cases became permanent base men—that is, they were attached for duty at the base—and assisted in hospital work. If each hospital had had a dentist attached to it as a matter of routine, and a couple of mechanics for repairing dentures, receiving the same pay as a doctor, the problem of teeth, which is always troublesome, would have been to a considerable extent solved. I do not know why teeth decayed so rapidly. It may have been due to incipient scurvy, or to the nature of the rations, or to the general state of health, or it may have been caused by some septic condition of the mouth, induced by the heat and dryness. Some young fellows lost every tooth in their possession in a year. Hair suffered in the same way, but to a lesser extent. Some exhaustion of the thyroid gland may have been at the bottom of the trouble.