Chapter 10

The Retreat to Kut

‘To know when to retreat and to dare to do it.’

(The Duke of Wellington, when asked for his opinion on the best test of greatness in a general, William Fraser, Words on Wellington, 1889)

The Iron Duke would, no doubt, have endorsed Townshend’s decision to leave the field at Ctesiphon to the Turks. It was never about winning control of a worthless expanse of desert but about destroying Nureddin’s force in order to open the way to the ultimate goal – Baghdad. Townshend had taken that patch of worthless desert but had failed in his aim or, to be more accurate, the aim of his superior, the ever ambitious Nixon. In addition, the aspiration of Hardinge to be ‘Pasha of Baghdad’ was going to have to be put firmly on ‘hold’.

In textbook fashion, the 6th Division withdrew from its captured positions, at 2030 hrs on the night of 24/25 November 1915, and it turned its face southward. There was no noise, no lights. The withdrawal was accomplished with a clean break and, in the cold night air, some of the men strode, while others limped or shuffled across the unforgiving desert. The column of marching men could not stray too far from the river, which was, as ever, its water source. Nunn’s remaining ships kept pace with the column as many anxious glances over the shoulder were made. The realisation had dawned that the initiative had slipped from British hands and that, now, the 6th Division was no longer the aggressor.

It was the quarry, the fox – and the hounds were in full cry.

Townshend, having changed his mind, wired to Nixon that he intended to stay at Lajj, ‘until I have eaten up my supplies.’ He added that he would then move onto Azizieh and wait for the arrival of his second division, which he assumed would be sent on to him. From here he would launch another strike on Baghdad. His wire also included some patronising remarks that probably irked Nixon – but that was no doubt the aim. He did not explain what he thought Nureddin’s masses would do while his division masticated. Nor did he explain how he intended to confront an estimated enemy at four-division strength of, say, 48,000 men in an unsuitable place like Lajj, or for that matter, Azizieh, with the badly battered remnant of 6th Division. All of that made this business of ‘eating up supplies’ seem surreal.

45. The route of Townshend’s retreat to Kut. (A.J. Barker)

Nixon did not support Townshend’s decision to retire and said so in a wire that read:

I do not like your proposed retirement on Lajj for military reasons. … You should, of course, prepare a fortified position at Lajj on which to retire in case of necessity and to cover your advanced base but for military reasons I do not consider retirement desirable at present.¹⁵²

Nixon did not specify the ‘military reasons’ but Townshend rode the rebuke and, anyway, it was too late because 6th Division was already en route for Lajj.

The map on page 108 illustrates the sinuous nature of the Upper Tigris and explains, in part, why it took so long for the wounded to reach relative civilisation in Basra. The 6th Division’s contested journey was to be an epic in itself. Townshend rode with the rearguard; his head on his chest. Colonel Thompson observed that, ‘those who watched him were reminded irresistibly of Napoleon on his retreat from Moscow.’¹⁵³

That first staging post at Lajj was about 10 miles south of the blood-soaked field at Ctesiphon. Lajj was neither ‘fish nor fowl’. It was a village of no strategic importance, just a dot on the map. It was not far enough from Ctesiphon to provide significant distance between the two adversaries, it provided no obviously defendable position, nor did it reduce the line of communication by any significant amount.

It was an odd decision.

*  *  *

Braddon argued that, ‘From the age of twenty-three to fifty-four, Townshend’s diaries, cables and letters had revealed a man of ruthless consistency. But, from the moment his convalescence had begun in India, consistency had vanished.’¹⁵⁴

This latest decision to ‘eat up supplies’ was irrational, as had been the beating of the dog and the need for fresh clothes. Another indicator was his position on an advance to Ctesiphon. This had varied from outright opposition to complete acquiescence, and his initial decision to resume operations on 25 November then rescinded. In total, all these incidents point to Townshend’s behaviour being less than entirely normal. But, in late November 1915, thousands of troops had complete faith in their ‘Charlie’.

Townshend retained the affection of his men until the end of his life; he worked at being a ‘soldier’s officer’. This is a status all officers aspire to, and the usual device to achieve the aim is approachability. The general who chats to his soldiers, makes them laugh and is seen to care for them, even superficially, will achieve the accolade of ‘soldier’s officer’. It is fallacious to say that soldiers ‘love’ their general. It is more accurate to say that they ‘admire and respect’ him. This was the case with Townshend, but his officers were less convinced. They were in much closer proximity and could see the man, warts and all.

Braddon canvassed the views of Townshend’s officers, and their opinions varied. ‘A bit frenchified,’ said one. ‘A bit of a ladies’ man,’ opined another. ‘A thruster, you know, the sort of chap that will ride too far ahead and destroy the scent for the hounds and drive the Master mad.’ These are less than complimentary: ‘A man who would rather go to the theatre than a shooting party’ is almost damning, given the social mores of his contemporaries. Finally, ‘The only real general in the Indian Army; but not exactly a gentleman.’

That last judgment would have cut Townshend to the very quick as he entertained strong aspirations not only to gentility but also of nobility. His ambition to be Lord Townshend was unabated, although the marriage of the 6th Marquess in 1905 had been a blow. But the union was childless and Charlie was still the heir and busting to don ermine – as 7th Marquess.

*  *  *

Townshend’s stay at Lajj was very short-lived because aerial reconnaissance revealed that Nureddin’s advance guard of 12,000 infantry and 400 cavalry were on their way from Ctesiphon and within 3½ miles. Further massive reinforcement was on its way. Chitrál Charlie urged his division to its feet and the retreat south was continued.

Townshend’s force was accompanied by a miscellaneous but mostly unwieldy collection of barges, lighters and other river craft. The water was shallow and there were sand banks aplenty. The continuous need to refloat components of this flotilla took time and if one ship blocked the main stream then all behind had to heave to. It was a frustrating and tiring business. It was particularly fraught for the mariners, with Nureddin at their heels and aggressive, armed Arabs lining the riverbank. These Arabs had now thrown in their lot with the Turks and, like wolves, they stalked Nunn and his ships.

The passage downriver was difficult and just above Azizieh, Comet and Shaitan had run aground. Grounding was part and parcel of navigation on this river and usually it was possible to back off a sand bank. In this case Comet did just that, but Shaitan was stuck fast and under speculative sniper fire from Arabs on the banks. Comet, Firefly and Shushan all put lines aboard Shaitan. However, she would not budge and eventually sprang a leak. The hull had been subjected to strains for which the ship was not built and a seam had opened. Shaitan sank in shallow water. She was unloaded, her guns and ammunition being a priority in the limited time available. Comet, Shushan and Firefly engaged the Arabs to cover this operation but the imminent arrival of the Turkish advance guard caused Nunn to abandon the ship.

46. HMS Firefly. (W. Nunn)

It was not possible to ‘live off the land’ as armies had done countless times in the past because in Mesopotamia there was nothing, but nothing, to live off. Nunn’s ships did not just carry ammunition and food; they also transported fodder for horses and mules, firewood and a host of other prosaic items, all of which took up valuable cargo space, but without which life was bordering impossible.

The marching troops were often out of touch with the ships and it was only when their shorter route touched the apex of one of the innumerable bends that contact was re-established. The map on page 108 illustrates that point. The course of the river gave the Arabs ample opportunity to snipe the flotilla, and Nunn asked for cavalry support. The recently arrived 14th Hussars did what they did best and swept along the riverbank ‘accounting for about 150’¹⁵⁵ of their adversaries.

Nixon wired to say that Townshend’s plans to stand at Azizieh were approved and said comfortingly that about a third of the new reinforcement division would arrive there by 15 December. This was yet another hollow promise of ‘jam tomorrow’, and it did not impress Townshend. He now, belatedly, appreciated that the 6th Division was hopelessly outnumbered and that survival was his new aim.

A safe haven was needed, but where? Kut was 90 miles south, but Amara would be preferred. The latter was 130 miles away, as a mosquito flies, but 250 miles by way of the dawdling Tigris. The option to march in a straight line to Amara was impractical as the Tigris was the Division’s lifeline – tenuous as it was. It was Hobson’s choice, but the General resolved to press on and consolidate at Kut.

Previously, Azizieh (22 miles from Ctesiphon) had been strongly fortified but all the weapon pits had been filled in, the wire cut and dispersed, and the redoubts destroyed. The discarded heavy baggage of 6th Division was stacked ready for collection by a victorious army. When Azizieh was reached, on 27 November, the Division rested and hunted through the mountains of kitbags for prized possessions in a haphazard and ill-disciplined manner. The soldiers could only take what they could carry and all manner of treasures were left to the Arabs, who had been in constant attendance as they trailed the rearguard. There was going to be no use for ceremonial uniforms or mess silver from here on, and so these were regretfully abandoned.

Nunn asked Townshend if he could send on ahead, to Kut, any craft that could be spared. It was agreed that the naval 4.7-inch guns and the army 5-inch guns in barges, together with Massoudieh and Shushan, should leave for Kut in the south at once.

It had been a modest bonus when half a battalion of the Royal West Kents arrived with the 14th Hussars. These new members of the 6th Division were more than somewhat discommoded to be greeted with derision and then to discover that, having reached Azizieh, they would now have to retrace their steps. Mr Sherlock told Braddon that, when asked who they were, one of the newly joined soldiers replied, ‘Half of the West Kents.’ This drew the response, ‘That’s no bloody good; we need half the British Army.’

Other reinforcements were making their way north; among them were the Anglo Indian gunners from Amara. Their journey had halted at Kut because of the unavailability of river craft, most of which were making their slow, putrid passage south.

47. The stern-wheeler HMS Shushan, photographed in the earlier Nasiriya operations and during which Nunn flew his pennant. (Nunn)

It was on 30 November that Azizieh was abandoned by 6th Division. Burdened with all that it could carry, its men had packed into their equipment food, souvenirs, personal possessions and also those of men long since dead. As the column struck out into the featureless desert, it left behind rising black smoke that besmirched a faultless blue sky. Everything flammable that could not be carried had been put to the torch. The smoke sent a clear message to Nureddin, about 6 miles behind, that the British were not preparing to give battle and the initiative was his to exploit.

It was winter in Mesopotamia, but as the sun climbed in the sky so the soldiers started to wilt and progressively they jettisoned their booty so rapaciously gathered only the day before. Four miles into their long day, Townshend called a halt to allow stragglers to catch up. To fall out and be left behind was to suffer a merciless and excruciating death at Arab hands. Some did not catch up, gave up the struggle and became forever ‘missing’.

Every soldier is dependent upon his comrades and Arthur Kingsmill wrote of one incident:

He was lying on the ground, and when I told him to get up he said he was finished. I took his rifle, grabbed him by the collar, pulled him to his feet and kicked him. ‘Now come on,’ I said. He hung on to me and, as luck would have it, we caught up. ‘Any more tricks and you get your throat cut,’ I said, giving him half a biscuit and a piece of bully.

That unnamed soldier’s life was saved by Kingsmill’s unsympathetic treatment and he lived to fight another day. This was not an isolated incident and the bleak terrain, heat and thirst took their toll of men who had given their all at Ctesiphon and who had little left in reserve.

At about noon, the column, having advanced only about 8 miles, reached Umm-al-Tubal and was now much closer to the river, where the shadowing ships could be seen gliding slowly through the muddy water and providing, albeit briefly, an element of big gun protection. It was at this point that Nunn and Townshend had a misunderstanding that could have been very serious.

Townshend apparently thought that 10 ‘desert’ miles as the insect flies was the limit of the ships’ daily progress as they ploughed their way down the sinuous Tigris. Nunn, on the other hand, thought that he should halt because the troops were exhausted. Both men would have pressed on, but they did not discuss the matter and each deferred to what he thought to be the other’s wishes. An unnecessary halt was called.

It was at this point that a message from Nixon arrived, telling that Butterfly was under a determined attack near Sheikh Saad. Although there was no mention of the ship being surrendered to Arabs, is this evidence in support of Albert Maynard’s story? (See page 104.) However, after this incident Nixon demonstrated interesting and uncharacteristic concern about the security of his sole line of communication. This was concern that had come a little late in the piece as it had been needed some months earlier. Nixon asked the GOC 6th Division to help secure the river, and in turn Townshend detailed Mellis (30th Brigade) to move ahead of the column and eradicate any threat. It was agreed to lengthen the next day’s march as Nunn wanted to make best use of daylight and his flotilla had a much longer journey than his khaki-clad comrades.

At Umm-al-Tubal, the British camp was roughly square, with the Tigris forming the southern boundary. Nunn positioned Firefly at the south-west corner. Comet was moored in the centre of that same boundary. It was a long night; the Turks fired star shells but made no assaults on the British line. Later analysis of events showed that the Turks had decided that the precipitate exit of 30th Brigade, to aid Nixon, with accompanying clouds of dust, was the 6th Division decamping. Drawing this fallacious conclusion, Nureddin halted for the night and gave orders to his 44th Regiment to occupy the abandoned British camp.

The 44th Regiment got lost in the dark and did not stumble over the encamped 6th Division.

The events that followed were extraordinary. Townshend decided that he needed Mellis to return and called for volunteers to ride to find 30th Brigade with the message. Captain C. Trench and Lieutenant W.J. Coventry volunteered, and they were to be accompanied by six cavalrymen. They knew that the desert was alive with hostile Arabs but were prepared to take their chances. Typically, Charlie gave an assurance that he would recommend them both for the VC;¹⁵⁶ he made no such offer to the six soldiers.

Nunn was told to send a similar message downriver in one of the launches. Lieutenant Wood RNR stepped forward and set off, but inevitably, his vessel was attacked and two of his crew were wounded. Wood extricated his launch from the engagement and returned to Umm-al-Tubal, his message undelivered. Nevertheless, he was decorated with the Distinguished Service Cross (DSC) for his trouble.

The Division posted sentries and the great majority climbed gratefully under their blankets. Townshend did too, but could not sleep and, when he was awake, so was everyone else.

He called out: ‘Boggis.’

‘Sir.’

‘Can you hear wheels?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Well, I can. Go and get Colonel Evans and we’ll see if he can hear anything.’

Boggis crawled from beneath his blanket and set off to find the irascible, profane Colonel U.W. Evans, the formidable General Staff Officer Grade 1 (GSO1). Evans was the senior of Townshend’s staff. He was a red-faced man with a bristling moustache and he did not suffer fools in any circumstances. He was not best pleased to be woken. Nevertheless, he hastened to his general’s side.

‘Evans,’ enquired the GOC, ‘can you hear wheels?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘I can. There are Turks on the move. Why have the sentries not reported it? See to it.’

Evans returned to his own tent, and an officer called E.J. Mant, one of those who shared the tent, recalled being woken by an irritable Evans who ordered Mant to ‘listen and tell me what you hear’. By now any number of sleepers had woken and all were turned to listening. There were sounds, certainly the wind in the guy ropes, and the musical jingle of harnesses in the horse lines.

One officer ventured bravely, ‘I think it’s only the mules, Sir.’

‘I know that’s only the mules you pissbegotten bugger; but what else can you hear?’

‘Nothing, Sir.’

‘Well the General can!’¹⁵⁷

The entire division ‘stood to’, donned its equipment and manned the shallow trenches that had been dug the previous afternoon. Tired men peered into the stygian darkness of the desert night. Just before dawn, the Division started to make preparation to move further in its odyssey to Kut. The move from Umm-at-Tabul started at 0800 hrs and thirty minutes later, the column was underway. It was a foggy morning and visibility was very restricted.

Lieutenant Edward Mousley, a gunner officer, remembered that at about 0900 hrs the fog cleared and ‘before us some 1,800 to 2,000 yards off on the higher ground we saw a host of tents.’¹⁵⁸ There were lights among the tents and the immediate opinion was that it was the following Arabs. As the light strengthened, it became clear that it was not Arabs in those distant tents.

It was the Turkish Army.

Mousley observed that, ‘The guns of the [10th] Field Brigade were limbering up ready to move but within two minutes they were down again, in action, and the first shell sang out the delight of the gunner at the prospect of so gorgeous a target.’¹⁵⁹

The British, although surprised, were the first to react and within minutes the gunners were bringing down effective fire on the large number of advancing Turks and their encampment to their rear. The effect on the Turks was cataclysmic and very heavy casualties were sustained under the first few salvos fired by the artillery. Townshend commented later that, ‘I have never seen artillery shoot with the precision with which 10th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery opened a rapid fire. This was most deadly. One saw Turkish lines of men dissolve in a regular cloud of our shells. What a splendid gun is our 18-pounder field gun.’¹⁶⁰ It was estimated, by Townshend, that the Turks were 12,000 strong, but by what means he made this estimate is unclear. Nevertheless, it was evident that there were hundreds of Turkish soldiers milling about among the multiple tents pitched on the crest of the distant dunes.

The Turkish response was brave but ill-judged. Thousands advanced across the flat desert into the fire of very professional gunnery and carnage was the only possible result. Gun teams limbered up and moved forward to shorten the range and give line of sight to fresh targets.

Comet and Firefly brought their guns to bear and added to the weight of shell falling on the Turkish XIIIth Corps. However, both ships were targets of Turkish artillery and Firefly was crippled when a shell hit her boiler. Firefly was towed away with great difficulty by Comet, a ship singularly ill-equipped for the purpose. Comet soon ran aground as her burden made her unwieldy, and she could not be freed. Nunn signalled to the little armed tug Sumana to drop the two barges she was towing and move upstream to assist with the recovery of Comet. Firefly meanwhile was drifting downstream ‘not under command’. Sumana got a line onto Comet but could not free her. Turkish artillery was now operating at quite short range and becoming more and more effective. Comet was hit and set on fire. Captain Nunn decided that both Comet and Firefly should be abandoned. He ordered Sumana alongside and Comet’s crew threw overboard the breechblocks of the guns and disabled the engines. Two men, Lieutenant Harden¹⁶¹ and Seaman Ernest Gray RNR, pulled over to Firefly in a small boat and brought her officers and men to safety.¹⁶²

On the river, the Turks had won the battle.

Two ships and several barges had been lost, together with invaluable stores. More worryingly, one of the barges dropped by Sumana was carrying wounded and those men had to be left to their fate. The only hope was that the Turks got to them before the Arabs.

The Turkish 44th Regiment that had been ‘lost’ now reappeared and joined the fight. Townshend ordered Delamain (16th Brigade) and Hamilton (18th Brigade), without formal orders, to attack, head on. The cavalry, with ‘S’ Battery in support, took up a position on the enemy flank and the Turks were receiving fire from two directions. This was an ‘encounter’ battle and quite unlike the more deliberate, formalised contests of the previous twelve months. There was no time to plan ‘turning manoeuvres’ and no room for subterfuge. This was a conflict that was ‘played off the cuff’.

In the spontaneity stakes, the British were winning. Excellent gunnery and disciplined musketry did the trick. A little later in the morning, General Mellis’s brigade, which had been sent for during the night, arrived on the scene of action, appearing from the south-eastern quarter. The Brigade’s arrival was critical and effectively threw back the Turkish attack.

There had been countless acts of bravery and, as one example, Lieutenant Colonel J. McConville reported, ‘a Norfolk with both legs broken, ignored his injuries. Spreading his ammunition carefully around him, he continued his deliberate fire, round after round.’¹⁶³

Kipling might have had a battle like this in mind when he penned those famous words:¹⁶⁴

If your officer’s dead and the sergeants look white

Remember it’s ruin to run from a fight

So take open order, lie down and sit tight

An’ wait for supports like a soldier

Edward Mousley was able to observe Chitrál Charlie during this engagement and his view runs counter to those culled by Braddon and which appeared earlier. Mousley wrote:

One could not but feel the keenest admiration for General Townshend, so steady, collected and determined in action, so kind, quick and confident. There, totally indifferent to the shellfire, he stood watching the issue receiving reports from various orderly officers and giving every attention to the progress of the transport. Some shells pitched just over us, one not 15 yards away, killing a horse and wounding some drivers. More than once I caught a humorous smile on the General’s face as some shell missed us. … It was a most wonderful engagement and an exclamation of delight broke from him as he directed our attention to a charge of the 14th Hussars. Over the brown of the desert a mass of glittering and swiftly moving steel bore down upon the line of Turks, which broke and bolted.¹⁶⁵

Townshend had the option of pursuing a broken but still numerous enemy. However, to his credit, and like the good soldier he was, he stuck to his declared aim, and that was ‘to withdraw to Kut’. Accordingly, he issued orders to Delamain and Hamilton to ‘retire in alternate echelons of brigades’ – an order more likely to have been understood by the recipients than this author and perhaps his reader!

It had been a short, brisk battle, now out of living memory and forgotten. After the war, the Turks said that the British gunnery had paralysed them; they admitted to 2,000 casualties.¹⁶⁶ 6th Division had thirty-seven killed, 281 wounded and there were 218 missing. All the 1,500 Turkish prisoners were secure.

The engagement was broken off and 6th Division turned its face southward again. It faced a march of 36 miles. The naval component being now much reduced, the carriage of a fresh batch of wounded slowed progress. The ‘road’ alongside the river was regularly broken by old canals and irrigation ditches. Each of these had to be bridged for the wheeled vehicles and after the last wheels had passed, the bridging material, such as it was, had to be recovered and delivered to the head of the column for reuse.

The retreat was by no means the ‘walk in the park’ of legend. Mousley recorded:

I was ordered to ride on and find a watering place, which I did; but the Turks still pressed in our rear, and we had to shove on without watering. I managed to water Don Juan (his much loved horse) however and gave him three of my six biscuits; we pushed on, the horses showing signs of fatigue. At 1800 hrs it was dreadfully cold and dark. The BGRA, the staff captain and I rode at the head of the Division. The orders were seventy paces to the minute with compass directing. We took it in turns of half hours. The strain was very severe. We’d had no food, except a sandwich for breakfast, for twenty-four hours, violent exercise under exhausting conditions.

There was no marked road, merely the occasional hoof mark to indicate that at some time, someone, or at least an animal, had passed that way before. The darkness, the cumulative effect of loss of sleep over several nights, the responsibility for guiding the entire force and now the extreme cold all added to the mix.

Mousley wrote that, ‘I shall never forget that night. A halt was suggested but our Napoleonic general drove us on. Again, as we learned subsequently, he saved us. That night the Turkish Army, reinforced, was trying to outmarch us.’

The 6th Division objective that night was a featureless place called Shadi. The ground locally was scarred with nullahs (watercourses or ravines) and there was but only one single track to bypass them. In one place a narrow stone bridge crossed a very deep nullah and here there was a scene of wildest confusion. Camels were being thrashed across, kicking mules hauled army carts and this caused a block as wheeled vehicles found difficulty – a bottleneck was created. Several vehicles overturned. Eventually the Division, a column 5 miles long, found its way over the bridge and the sappers blew it when the last man was safely across. The force bivouacked for what was left of the night and tried to sleep.

Mousley recalled the intensity of the cold but he did not sleep, as he was kept busy by his BGRA (Brigadier General, Royal Artillery). Several senior and experienced officers told him that, that day, he ‘had witnessed one of the most brilliant episodes possible in war where perfect judgment and first-rate discipline alone enabled us to smash the sting of the pursuit and to continue a retreat exactly as it is done on manoeuvres.’¹⁶⁷

48. Captain E.O. Mousley RFA. He survived captivity to write The Secrets of a Kuttite.

As Mousley indicated, Mesopotamia has a climate that produces extremes of hot and cold, both of which are life threatening. The Viceroy was also well aware of this and, writing to Sir Thomas Holderness on 21 October 1914, Lord Hardinge had said:

when some weeks ago I enquired of the Commander-in-chief whether proper provision had been made for warm clothing for the troops, he told me that he was relying on private charity for this. I told him at once that I could not possibly agree to our troops being dependent for warm clothing upon private charity and I insisted upon the troops being properly clad at the expense of the Government. It is far better to have warm men in the field than men dying of pneumonia in the hospitals. It is the cheapest course in the long run.

This is an illuminating insight into the thought process of General Sir Beauchamp Duff. However, despite this interjection by Hardinge, Duff did not respond and eighteen months later, the Army was still short of blankets and clothing.

At 0400 hrs on 2 December, the trek was re-continued. Men and beasts were utterly spent. Many mules were shot as their strength gave out. The guns could move only very slowly as their teams were spent, unwatered and unfed. The painful procession wound on its way and at about 1400 hrs it halted for two and a half hours so that the stragglers could catch up. The hope was that Kut would be reached that day, but Townshend decided to halt 5 miles north of Kut because he anticipated an opposed entry to the town.

As the sun set on 2 December, its dying rays could be seen shining on the distant roofs. The pace of the column was now reduced to 1 mile in the hour and so Kut was half a day’s march away.

The tired men and beasts of 6th Division rested. Some bread was delivered from Kut and Mousley shared his ration with Don Juan. The horses were tethered close together to share their body warmth; the men sought shelter from the unforgiving and persistent wind. Mousley wrote at some length about that time, saying:

No one who has not sampled it for himself can credit the intense cold of such a Mesopotamian night. I have registered the cold of Oberhopf, where 20 feet of snow and icicles 40 feet high rendered every wood impassable. I have boated on the west coast of Scotland where the wind from Satan’s antipodes cuts through coat and flesh and bone. I have felt the cold from the glaciers of New Zealand but I have never felt cold to equal that 2 December of the retreat. Perhaps hunger and extreme exhaustion help the cold.¹⁶⁸

At 0500 hrs the final leg of the journey was started, entry to Kut was not opposed and by 0730 hrs on 3 December, the vanguard entered the filthy, odorous, ill-favoured town of Kut. It was described by Barker as ‘the most vile and unsanitary of all the places occupied by the British in Mesopotamia, and about the only alleviating features were the date plantations and a few gardens north-west and south-east’¹⁶⁹ of the hovels huddled in the bend of the river. Kut was not an attractive place to visit and certainly not the place for an extended stay.

The Mesopotamia Commission quite correctly recognised the exceptional skill and fortitude of Townshend’s force, and summarised the retreat to Kut in these words:

The Turks had ample time to prepare a strong position at Ctesiphon; but had it not been for the reinforcements, which reached them before our attack took place, it appears clear that they would have been defeated. The British Force had the utmost confidence in their leader, and the manner in which they fought did not indicate any loss of morale.

Notwithstanding the deficiencies of medical equipment and of transport all the wounded were evacuated and all prisoners taken to Kut. This was a remarkable military achievement, carried out during a hazardous retreat against overwhelming odds and with lines of communication threatened and at times cut by marauding Arabs. Great credit is due to the medical officers for their devoted work in thus evacuating their wounded, but many of those so moved suffered terribly as the two prepared steamers could only accommodate a small proportion of them. The remainder had to be put in any craft that was available and so hurriedly that, as on other occasions when vessels carrying up animals were utilised, there was not time to clear them of their accumulation of filth and dung.

General Townshend and his force in these exceptionally trying circumstances fully maintained their previous splendid reputation, and if for the first time defeat instead of victory attended their efforts, this was due to the exceptional difficulty of the military task imposed upon them, for the numerical odds and adverse conditions with which they had to contend were too much even for their fighting superiority.¹⁷⁰

Chitral Charlie’s reputation was vastly enhanced by these words, which were penned when he was, nominally, a ‘prisoner of war’.

Nixon, now back at Basra, but feeling unwell, received a telegram from Chamberlain, the Secretary of State, on 4 December. It was terse and read, ‘On arrival wounded at Basra. Please telegraph urgently particulars and progress.’ The request for urgency fell on deaf ears because a reply was not sent until 7 December. On that date, and purporting to come from Nixon, the reply read:

Wounded satisfactorily disposed of. Many likely to recover in country, comfortably placed in hospitals at Amara and Basra. Those for invaliding are being placed direct on two hospital ships that were ready at Basra on arrival of riverboats. General condition of wounded very satisfactory. Medical arrangements under circumstances of considerable difficulty worked splendidly.¹⁷¹

This travesty of the truth was a replay of the misinformation disseminated after the battle for Kut. The MC asserted that it was unable to discover who had drafted this seriously misleading and untruthful telegram. However, two staff officers asserted to the Commission that the draft was in the handwriting of Surgeon General Hathaway – although he did not initial the telegram as the initiator. Hathaway, in evidence, later admitted that he ‘had assisted in the framing’ of the telegram.

When called to explain this blatant corruption of the facts in this telegram Nixon, Hathaway and Cowper all assured the MC ‘that it was not despatched with the object of misrepresenting the state of things.’ Nixon went as far as to say that, at the time the telegram was sent, his ‘thankfulness was great at having got the wounded down safely under circumstances of great difficulty without letting them be exposed to mutilation [by the Arabs].’¹⁷² That is all very glib and just so much nonsense.

There is enough circumstantial evidence to lay this squalid matter at the door of Hathaway. He was motivated to put a brave face on a disaster that was his responsibility and his fingerprints were on the draft telegram. Nixon may, or may not, have known about the telegram but he was fully aware of the medical debacle because he witnessed it, at Ctesiphon, and had commented upon it.

Cowper had an interest in preserving the standing of Nixon’s headquarters. That was understandable, misguided and wrong. The significant casualty was the veracity of all three generals and, in addition, Hathaway’s reputation was irredeemably and correctly damaged. The whole business was symptomatic of an integrity gap in Indian Expeditionary Force ‘D’, and the gap started at the top. The MC took a very dim view and wrote:

It is very difficult to accept these explanations [from Nixon, Hathaway and Cowper] for whatever may have been the motive for so wording the despatch, the effect was to conceal from the authorities outside Mesopotamia the real facts as to the medical breakdown in November, gravely to mislead the Secretary of State, and through him Parliament and the public and to deceive all into a state of false security in view of future operations.

If the full facts had been frankly reported, immediately after the battle of Ctesiphon, it would have been possible for the authorities to make strong efforts to remove or mitigate many of the defects before the next fighting took place. But this was not done, with the result that for the wounded the horrors in January 1916 equalled or even exceeded the horrors of Ctesiphon in November 1915.¹⁷³

In Basra, the wounded were being given belated professional care, but to the north, the remnants of the 6th Division had girded its corporate loins and moved into the next uncomfortable phase of the campaign. The expectations of the 6th Division as it marched into Kut were not unreasonable: a cup of hot char and a wad, a cooked breakfast, pretty nurses, mail from home, newspapers, a decent bed raised off the desert floor, a bath and a shave in hot water. A cold beer would be the icing on the Mesopotamian cake. Soldiers are stoic fellows and ask for very little; it is just as well, because Kut offered none of the above.

This was no home from home.

It smelt appalling because Kut had no drainage system; no attempt had been made at sanitation. The whole place was indescribably filthy, owing to the insanitary habits of the inhabitants and the accumulations of refuse and filth on the thoroughfares, the riverbanks and the immediate confines of the town. Colonel Hehir, the senior medical officer, told the MC that it was the most insanitary place that the British force had occupied in Mesopotamia. Given the state of Basra, Kurnah and Amarah, that meant Kut really did plumb the depths.

However, what Kut did have to offer the new arrivals, and in abundance, was many hours of digging.

Chapter notes

152 Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, Vol. 2, p.107.

153 Colonel H.G. Thompson DSO, interviewed by Braddon, 1968, The Siege, p.101.

154 Braddon, R., p.103.

155 Nunn, W., Tigris Gunboats, p.179.

156 In the event, both officers were admitted to the Distinguished Service Order (DSO).

157 Mant, E.J., recorded by Braddon in The Siege, p.109.

158 Mousley, E.O., The Secrets of a Kuttite, p.14.

159 Ibid.

160 Townshend, C.V.F., My Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.194.

161 Harden was awarded the DSO and Gray the DSM for their gallantry.

162 Nunn, W., Tigris Gunboats, pp.184–5.

163 Lieutenant Colonel J. McConville to Braddon, as reported in The Siege, p.110.

164 Kipling, R., The Young British Soldier.

165 Mousley, E.O., The Secrets of a Kuttite, p.15.

166 Moberly, T.F., The Campaign in Mesopotamia at p.123 specified that Turkish losses were 748. It may be that the lower figure was Turkish dead.

167 Mousley, E.O., The Secrets of a Kuttite, p.19.

168 Ibid, p.21.

169 Barker, A.J., The Neglected War, p.115.

170 MC Report, pp.29–30.

171 Ibid, p.31.

172 Ibid, p.77.

173 Ibid, p.78.