The Secrets of a Kuttite Part 31

(KAISER, _now alone and smoking hard, walks to the window. He looks out on the lake in silence. The moonlight streams in across the room. As he watches, a black sailing cloud obscures the moon, and the_ KAISER, _turning down the lights, sinks back dreamily in his chair. The smoke from his cigar floats up in thick clouds as he rests his haggard face in one hand. He sleeps.

Past the smothered light the mists grow thicker and in them suddenly appears a form, a spectre--it is the_ SHADE OF BISMARK.

_With fearful voice it speaks._)

THE SHADE: It is true, Wilhelm. You have need for the pilot, nicht wahr? The glorious empire I gave is on the brink of an abyss. Colonies, commerce, s.h.i.+pping, armies, friends--all are gone. The isolation of England has ended in the isolation of Germany. The very cement with which I bound State by State to Prussia is crumbling to dust. Germany is sliding--soon she will be an avalanche charging to her doom.

Even now there is barely time to avert the catastrophe. You dropped me. This is my revenge.

KAISER (_awakes with a start, and the_ SHADE _flees_): What a fearful dream (_quotes_)--

"There is a tide in the affair of Nations, Which, taken at the flood, leads G.o.d knows where."

On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves or, like our submarines, go to the bottom. I'll ring for wine....

(_Rings as the curtain falls._)

Written in June, 1917.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo from "Smoke"_ "THE SONG OF THE RAIN"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: BALLAD OF THE FALL OF KUT. ("SMOKE") THIS SKETCH AS ALL OTHERS WAS DONE BY LIEUT. GALLOWAY]

(10) Ballad by a bombardier on night of Fall of Kut.

THE FALL OF KUT _April 29th, 1916_

Crack me the last bottle of date-juice And hand me some leaves of the lime-- For to-day falls Kut-el-Amarah, And for us, G.o.d knows, it's time.

We're only a siege-battered army, And most of us bones and skin; And we thought that our troubles were over; But we find they only begin.

For five months the might of the Turk Tried to take this tiny Kut.

Now he says that we are devils-- And we know that he can loot.

We thrashed him at Shaiba and Kurna, At Amarah we bluffed him to flight, At Essin we grappled and threw him-- How we swore when he left in the night!

That gave us Kut-el-Amarah Where runs in the Shat-el-Hai.

'Tis the key to Mesopotamia, And surrounded by Arab canaille.

We were now a conquering army, And we fought well and ate well and drank; And though he'd retreated to Baghdad, We followed for military sw.a.n.k.

The march was a long one and thirsty, Still we thought of the Baghdad goal-- Till the Turk barred our way at Ctesiphon, Thrice our force and entrenched like a mole.

But Townshend saw it all swiftly-- To him were all our wins due.

"I'll not fight without reinforcements-- There's my communications, too."

Now, it's a trick they have in the Army, To ask you "What's absurd?"

So unsupported, Charlie T.

He took them--at their word.

"It's a risk, and I'm not for it; But if fight it's got to be, We'll fight like the Sixth Division,"

Quoth our General, Charlie T.

We found his flank and joined battle, And held with a frontal attack.

Stormed his first line--he vacated his second, Was reinforced, and we had to fall back.

A third of our force on the field; But the Turk had suffered much more.

We knew that the game was up, So retired with the honours of war.

Then came the wild hordes of Islam, Hot-footed upon our track.

They caught us at Um-al-Tabul, But in the open we flung them back.

Mars surely was in his chariot, And smiled at Townshend then; And Charles made good to the G.o.d of War, And s.n.a.t.c.hed from the grave dead men.

We hurled him back and held him, And got our transport through-- It was a glorious gunner's show-- But that's 'twixt me and you.

For forty hours we marched on, The nights were fearfully cold.

Men hungered and fainting, and men That slept as they walked, I'm told.

But Townshend got us to Kut, And the remnants stumbled in.

And Hunger and Death stared from our eyes, But we counted it all a win.

We dug down deep and quickly-- Next day they were all around, And our planes flew away to the southward.

We were alone and battle bound.

We fought them from the trenches-- We came to blows in the Fort.

We fought them and we fought the floods-- And then the food ran short.

Relief had been expected In two weeks, or four, at the most.

So we starved, or we died by the hundred; But we stuck each man to his post.

All this time the enemy, vengeful, That ringed us tightly round, Swept us with sh.e.l.l and rifle fire That followed us underground.

Our front line gazed into the blue, Where Formless Things rode by, And followed the wake of sound and heard Them burst in the old Serai.

Or sometimes it was the Hospital, And sometimes anywhere, And later came planes that bombed us-- 'Twas only luck served you there.

So the months went by, and we ate husks, Chupatties, and mule, and weeds.

We'd Divisional Orders for breakfast, And ribs of the silent steeds.

And still the Relief kept coming-- The Staff nominated the day.

Twenty times they fixed it for certain, And each time explained the delay.

So we swallowed disappointments, Tommy only groused his share; But one sad day the floods came, And Destiny seemed unfair.

The trenches filled with water, And the plain showed scarce a sod, And we slithered and waded, or murmured-- "On top, for the love of G.o.d!"

And many's the unfortunate devil Fell to the sniper's shot Through "chancing his arm" in the open; But the others heeded it not.

Once again, on that waste of waters, I gaze from the gun-pit floor, Where Tanks and I kept vigil Through each hour of the twenty-four.