The Secrets of a Kuttite Part 11

_March 17th._--We had an extraordinary breakfast of kedjereed tinned salmon Square-Peg brought with him.

c.o.c.kie's temperature is increasing and ought to be diminished.

I played patience a little, which I can't stick for long.

There are not many books circulating.

_March 18th._--Another beautiful day! I stale-mated a game of chess with Square-Peg, and then had a walk round the trenches almost up to the Fort. There is an old disused trench skirting the river on the eastern side, where we sat in a hidden nook and let the cool breeze from the river play on our feverish dank foreheads.

Gra.s.s is beginning to grow in patches here and there on the _maidan_; and here and there a truant mule did himself well behind the _bund_. Presently the Turks or Arabs spotted us, and we reluctantly had to leave the blissful spot.

Rumour says that the Turks have some new 75-inch guns coming. If so, the damage done will be ten times what it has been. And if they only had high-explosive sh.e.l.l the smas.h.i.+ng up of the fort wall and the town would be a very short affair.

A bombardier of the 76th Battery, an excellent lad, has just died of wounds from the aeroplane's bomb. I remember upholding him in a matter of duty once.

Every day some one goes, either from wounds or sickness.

And so far as we know the end is not yet.

_March 19th._--Rheumatics bad again. They remind me I lived in feet of water in my earthy dug-out during the floods, even my bed sopping wet. However, in the heat of the day the aching is less intense. More serious are the increasing cases of enteritis everywhere in Kut. I believe this is essentially a siege malady. The symptoms are violent pains in the intestines and a wish to vomit. It is, I hear, due to bad and insufficient nourishment. I know many who have already succ.u.mbed, but so far in my case these pains have been rather stomach than abdominal.

A bombardment started while I was in the gardens, and I hastened back to c.o.c.kie's observation post. It lasted the best part of an hour.

The floods have necessitated removing the 5-inch guns on the river-front, which are now in a dead line for our observation post, so any accurate one will be not far away. Anyway they can scarcely be closer than they have been. One sh.e.l.l we felt certain was making dead for us, but it went by with a fearful swish and burst ten yards off, killing one man and wounding another after penetrating two feet of brick wall.

The fumes and filthy gases well-nigh choke one.

Another sh.e.l.l got the _Sumana_ through the funnel and bridge, killing one of her crew. Tudway's cabin was completely wrecked. Tudway is a deserving, hard-working subaltern, the only R.N. representative in Kut. He always takes it as a personal insult if his gunboat is. .h.i.t. She is the apple of his eye. H.M.S. _Sumana_, an improvised gunboat, is of the greatest importance, as she keeps us in touch with Woolpress, our tiny stronghold on the other bank, which prevents the Turks from coming right down to the river-bank and thus rendering our water-front totally unendurable. She takes across a barge with provisions and reliefs, and makes three or four trips a week. This the Turks know full well, and do their best to send her under during the day. However, she is fairly well protected with _mahelas_ and rafts, though by no means completely. It is a difficult problem to know how to protect her, and engages all Tudway's thoughts. In fact, how she remains afloat at all is a puzzle to every one.

The last trip of the Morane plane was sufficiently disastrous, one bomb dropping into the hospital ward, killing a dozen men and wounding many others. These large bombs are dreadful things, the splinters of the outer case being very thin and sharp as razors. Square-Peg's servant was among those hit. In the 1907 Convention at the Hague we tried to get all the Powers to agree to refrain from this abominable trick, but it was not to be. Anyway war is now full of abominable tricks.

_March 20th._--Cold and windy, an ideal day for a leather chair with book-rest in one's study before an open fire, or for Grieg's music, for there is a whip and a whistle in the wind, and Peer Gynt is pa.s.sing over us.

Another small strafe started, and H.M.S. _Sumana_ stopped quite a few. She received five direct hits from 9-pounders, and one from the 18-pounder field-gun the enemy captured from us at Ahwaz.

To be sh.e.l.led by one's own gun and ammunition adds humour to injury. And we have learned to respect the fearful rip of this weapon. She hits ten times harder than any other gun they have got of the same size. But as c.o.c.kie says, "If British workmans.h.i.+p will be so thorough----"

The Morane flew over us last night in the moonlight and dropped several bombs, one of which cut through an ammunition wagon, setting off several sh.e.l.ls. We give every credit to this intrepid flyer. He came quite close.

For dinner we had a very excellent roast joint of horse and some rice. I find that first-cla.s.s horse is better than second-cla.s.s mule, and only second to second-rate young donkey. It beats camel and eclipses buffalo altogether. The horses decrease most sadly. Poor Don Juan! No insurance company on earth would look at him.

We smoked lime-leaves and talked rose-leaves, which means Omar Khayyam and Hafiz. But it lacked much--for we had no drinks more Khayyamnian than water.

_March 21st._--To-day it is a world of brightness. One has in one's self a feeling of joy and rejuvenescence, and outside there are the strong lines of a matter-of-fact morning, bright with the spangled beauties of ten thousand sheets of sunlight.

They are the banners of approaching summer, and beneath the palm trees one hears the sweet voice of that ardent G.o.ddess and the elfish cadence of her myrmidons.

Gorringe, promoted to lieut.-general, has succeeded General Aylmer in the command of the relieving force, and has wired that he is making his final plans.

The river has fallen three feet, and so to-day the whole garrison is keen with expectancy and buoyant with hope.

A few details are to hand with regard to the recent unsuccessful dash by General Aylmer up the right bank. From all accounts it was an excellent scheme, and came very near being a brilliant success. The Turks were completely hoodwinked, expecting the attack on the left bank, but Aylmer's flying column, by a commendable night march, got up to the main line of the enemy, and struck Dujaila Redoubt. The British troops got into this, but the story goes that General Aylmer then chose to wait for his guns and prepared before pus.h.i.+ng through. This took two or three hours, and the Turks, who had scanty troops on that side, immediately rushed over every available man from the other bank, and Aylmer, in attacking again, found the position too strong, and had to cut his way back. If he had shoved on at dawn he must have carried it easily.

Another version is that he had to go back for water, which is almost incredible, the show not having miscarried at all in length of time, and the river lay before him. One thing is certain: if he had got through, the Essin position would have had to be abandoned by the Turks, and, incidentally to the relief of Kut, our debouch would have brought about a heavy capture of the enemy. The difficulty now is that the floods are daily rendering more and more of this table country impa.s.sable. The soil is such that a shower of rain makes it a quagmire, and stagnant water turns it into the stickiest paste. Guns cannot be moved a yard, and it is almost equally impossible for man or horse to move. This means that the enemy's line downstream is shortened considerably, as they have to depend mainly on the dry land for transport.

To-day there is artillery fire below. Our guns exchanged a few rounds with his, and then Square-Peg and I strolled to the middle line and managed to procure some saccharine.

We are spending every available sovereign to buy anything that can be got to see us over the last days of the siege.

It is needless to remark that the only foodstuffs now for secret sale are those that have been stolen or illicitly concealed.

But even these have long since been purchased, and it is only by secret-service methods that an Arab is fossicked out who will sell a tin of milk for fifteen rupees, a pound of rice for five rupees, or atta for ten rupees. Officers and men, we are all on the same footing, and the extra that one can buy is, after all, such a very small supplement. There are many besides myself who have to starve completely if eggs or milk are not obtainable. Of the latter I have had one on issue per day when they are available. This just keeps one going, and after a few days of it one can manage with potato meal and a small portion of horse.

Tudway has joined our mess altogether on account of the _Sumana_ being untenable. One sh.e.l.l has completely smashed his cabin, luckily during his absence. Her 12-pounders are ash.o.r.e and he has a little nook which enables him to see a fair zone on the right bank which he periodically shoots over like a luxurious lord his pheasant coverts.

_March 22nd._--During the night the enemy's plane visited us and the sharp staccato notes of our anti-air maxims rapped out a brisk warning to the sleeping garrison. The others took shelter downstairs, but my bed was so very comfortable that I waited for the music of the first bomb before jumping out.

It didn't come. At 5.30 a.m. we were awakened by a sudden and intense bombardment. This building is not far from the mosque and quite close to the anti-air maxims, so-called because they never hit anything but air.

The bombardment seemed concentrated a good deal on this part of the town. c.o.c.kie went to observe. Then the plane came back and bombed us, circling across the town, after which the bombardment again opened. Square-Peg developed a spasmodic sprint of extraordinary alacrity every time anything happened or the plane gong rang out, and dressed downstairs. This proved such a nerve-racking ordeal that I proposed to have my tea in my room and then go below.

The sh.e.l.ls were thumping on the houses just behind us, and I took the precaution to s.h.i.+ft over the thick wall side of the room which left just s.p.a.ce enough for my servant Amir Bux to miss the doorway. Sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l struck the adjoining buildings, shaking our house considerably. Then suddenly there was an awful roar and splitting crash. The room was filled with smoke and dust and plaster, and a terrific thud shook the wall just behind my head. Two segments of sh.e.l.l had flown through the doorway and embedded themselves in the opposite wall. That excellent fellow Amir Bux suddenly asked, "Master thik hai?" And on my a.s.suring him I was all right he pointed to the embedded segment and smiled, muttering "Kismet!" On inspection I found that a Windy Lizzie had crashed through the slender wall of the upper enclosure around the roof on which my room opened (there was no door), and about half the fore-end of the sh.e.l.l had struck the thick wall of my room a few inches behind my head and had gone halfway through the plaster. Another foot and it would have got my scalp precisely.

The show kept on intermittently until 8.30 a.m. The horse lines and hospital have again caught it rather badly.

One sh.e.l.l pa.s.sed under a patient's bed in the General Hospital and exploded on the far wall without hurting anybody.

There is not any backward zone worth mentioning in some of these sh.e.l.ls. High explosive would have been a different story.

_9 p.m._--A few more sh.e.l.ls fell this evening. We hear that after all the plane did bomb last night and altogether made a most daring raid. We must give Fritz full marks for excellent bombing. He attended chiefly to Woolpress village over the river. More serious was the damage done by the same plane to the 47-inch guns in the horse boats--a very small target.

One barge was almost sunk, being suspended by her cables only, and the other gun was jerked out of its socket by the force of the explosion. It appears the bomb touched the edge of the horse boat and fell into the river, exploding under the water. The result was a deluge that heaved the gun out of its pedestal. Reports from Woolpress say he flew within thirty yards of the barges, which for a night performance was highly commendable. Fritz is a German. He had hard luck in not getting one gun at least. We contemplate painting in large letters on the roof of the Serai, our condolences over his bad luck. Tudway is busy towing the barge to the _Sumana_ shelter where it is to be repaired.

c.o.c.kie is a first-rate chess player, at least so he has repeatedly informed us. He knows the whole history of Ruy Lopez even to his private affairs, and can at any stage of any game tell you the exact measurement of the sphere for evil of any piece on the board. He does not finger his piece and wave it in mid-air before moving as do smaller fry at the game.

Neither does he hesitate for four minutes ever. Attacks, counter-attacks, demonstrations, feints, holding and flanking--he is an artist at them all. At every exchange he gets an advantage in pieces--_or position_. "Position," he a.s.sures us, "is the all in all." He can even nominate the moves without looking at the board. In short, if he did not invariably get beaten, he would be a perfect player, and even Lasker would have to look out. Square-Peg once brilliantly remarked that this tendency to get beaten was the tragedy of it all, but with infinitely more tact, at least to my mind, I added that c.o.c.kie was merely a great player and not infallible; in other words, that there were limitations in us all. This c.o.c.kie said he denied. And I agreed.

That may seem illogical. But it was necessary. If to beat c.o.c.kie is a misdemeanour, then to allude to the fact is certainly a crime--in his eyes. Besides, he isn't invariably beaten, as I have said. That was a mis-statement. For when he has made a bad slip or, let us say, paid too big a price for "position," such as losing his queen for a bishop or maybe a p.a.w.n, he frequently goes very red in the face and knocks all the pieces from the board on to the floor, which shows he has the foreseeing eye, a faculty absolutely necessary to a first-rate chess player. Maeterlinck, we are told, has the seeing eye. How much greater, then, is c.o.c.kie, who has the foreseeing eye? If, thinks c.o.c.kie, it is not always the province of man to antic.i.p.ate disaster, he can at least forestall it.

"I had the game on my head," c.o.c.kie usually bursts out as he sweeps the board. "And it wasn't lost either, don't forget--but the interest in it had all gone."

He did the same the first time he played me when he showed me a new opening--about three moves. He got a piece or two ahead, when after an hour or so I evened things up. Then he made his invariable slip, and before one could strike a match c.o.c.kie had the board clean as a skating rink, remarking hotly, "When I play against myself I'm always beaten."

"Thank your G.o.d, c.o.c.kie," I retorted, "then you admit some one can beat you." Which remark somehow or other he didn't appreciate.

However, since then I'm more awake, and when, which is not often, I bag his queen, or when, which is very often, he makes a slip, my arms are around the board before you could smile. It's the only way to keep the men on. If we were in America I should practise "getting the drop on him with a Colt's revolver" at each crisis.

Poor Square-Peg came to me in trouble on this point the other day.

"We have to be thankful, S.-P.," said I, "that c.o.c.kie has not yet commented on our morality."

"But it's coming. He's saving it up. I'm sure of it.

Why, this morning I had a certain mate in two moves, but my dread of what he would say in another explosion was such that I thought it necessary to extend the check to six times before finally checkmating him. It was a hard job and might have cost me the game. But then, since that last show, my nerves are none too good."

"Well, you got off lightly! I heard him merely knock his chair over and say that your playing was only better than mine. Did he not?"

"Yes! he's a blank, ten to one."

Whereat we both laughed as only subalterns can. At this point c.o.c.kie, who wanted my field-gla.s.ses, looked in at the mess. Now, if one thing annoys him more than another it is to see two people laughing and not to be in the joke. He always presumes he is in it. This time he was correct.

Turning to me venomously c.o.c.kie said, "I suppose you'd like a game?"