Chapter 14
April 1916
The Battle of Sannaiyat and Capitulation
‘Famine makes greater havoc in an army than the enemy and is more terrible than the sword.’
(Flavius Vegetius Renatus, Military Institutions of the Romans, c. AD 378, Clarke, 1776)
On 10 March, Captain E.O. Mousley, hitherto a young man with a very positive attitude, confided in his diary what was probably in the minds of many of his fellow ‘Kuttites’. He recorded that:
One would think that the lesson of Ctesiphon was sufficient to chasten the authorities out of the belief that the Mesopotamian campaign could be dallied with.
By sheer brilliancy of arms a whole country had been conquered by one unsupported division. This achievement was not enough, however, and the cheap methods in vogue further required this one division to risk the whole fruits of a campaign in a single doubtful throw and against the advice of its generals.
Through the same cheap methods of having insufficient forces to follow up a brilliant victory, our army was badly let down and several thousand lives flung away.249
The spectre of defeat had appeared and the Kuttites were beginning to see themselves as victims. It was not an unreasonable judgment by Mousley, given his limited access to the complete picture.
When it became clear that Kut could not be re-supplied by river the only alternative was to drop food from the air. However, aircraft were few in number, ill-equipped for the purpose and the pilots unskilled in the process. Small amounts were safely delivered, but frequently the bounty fell into the river or inside Turkish lines. The pilots, in their flimsy canvas and string aircraft, were much at risk from small-arms fire and the higher they went to avoid it, the less accurate their ration drop. At this stage in the siege, any successful drop was greeted with acclaim.
61. British graves. (Dr G. Bulger, original photo by Harry Weaver)
Starvation was now evident and the Kuttites started to show all the signs of vitamin deficiency, about which the medics could do nothing. The horses ate the tails of their fellows and their head ropes. Anything that grew was eaten; grass and weeds were much favoured and when stewed up, described as ‘spinach’. Rats, cats and dogs all headed for the pot, and this was not the time to be squeamish. It may have been coincidence but, on 12 April, Brigadier General F.A. Hoghton ate some of the ‘spinach’ and died soon thereafter. It seemed that the stew had contained something injurious and brought about an ignominious end for a brave and effective commander. His comrade, Major General Sir Charles Mellis VC, was unwell, but still breathing fire and brimstone, and appeared to be indestructible.
It may well be restating the blindingly obvious but, when the Duke of Marlborough wrote to Colonel Cadogan in 1703, he remarked that, ‘An army cannot preserve good order unless its soldiers have meat in their bellies, coats on their backs and shoes on their feet.’ In March 1916, the Kuttites would say ‘aye’ to that, especially as eating their boots looked like becoming an option.
It came as a severe shock to Hardinge when he discovered that Townshend had advised strongly against the advance to Ctesiphon and that Nixon had not only ignored the advice, but had kept it to himself. Hitherto, Hardinge had been Nixon’s unquestioning and greatest supporter but, by 25 March 1916, with Nixon now back in India on sick leave and his own tenure at its end, Hardinge was sadly disillusioned. He wrote to Chamberlain expressing his dismay.250
After the bloody affair at Dujaila, the British spent the rest of March adjusting, reinforcing, and reorganising shattered units. The heavy loss of officers made it difficult to regain the cohesiveness and rapport at unit level that is so essential to sound morale and efficiency.
On 4 April, Lord Hardinge vacated the appointment of Viceroy of India, handed over to Lord Chelmsford and embarked on a ship for the journey back to the UK, where he would be warmly welcomed back into the heart of the British establishment. There was no hint of criticism of his management of the Mesopotamian campaign. Smoothly, after some leave, he once more took up the appointment of Permanent Under Secretary at the Foreign Office. Hardinge, ‘a rather cold, reserved man’,251 was now a lonely one. His wife Winifred had died in July 1915 and his son Edd had died of wounds some six months before. His public life, always important, now assumed greater importance.
In Mesopotamia, spring was in the air, it was warmer and the nights, although cold, were not life-threatening. The warmer weather signalled the reappearance of the hosts of energetic flies. However, they were not the only enemy. As the snows melted high in the Caucasus, the meltwater flowed by way of countless, previously dry streambeds to the headwaters of the Tigris and the Euphrates.
Inexorably, the river level rose.
It had risen every spring, ‘even before Pontius was a pilot’252 (Pilate). Over 10,000 square miles of the Babylonian Plain, between the rivers, flooded. The area around Kut was subject to this annual, irresistible inundation.
Troops on both sides set to, constructing bunds to hold back the waters, with only very limited success. Wheeled vehicles were immobile and the gunners in particular were hamstrung. Both sides patrolled, but with little hope of any sort of tactical success. Patrols had to wade through filthy, muddy water and sought to clear the dry ground of enemy snipers. This was very dangerous work and death by drowning was always on the cards for the man brought low in the endless water-covered landscape. Any form of large-scale operation was impossible and it was obvious to all, except General Sir Percy Lake, that the relief of Kut was becoming more unlikely, day by day.
The conditions were dangerous. Latrines were flooded and raw sewage swirled around the trenches. Sleeping was only possible above the water level; washing was an improbable aspiration and hot, freshly cooked food non-existent. The maintenance of high morale in these conditions was a herculean task.
Curiously, the sailors in HM’s ships on the water were much more comfortable and drier than the soldiers ashore who were in the water.
In Basra, communications were maintained with units and one British battalion arrived at the front equipped with a Japanese invention, ‘a fly-catching machine’. These were issued on a scale of one per company. The inventor and the staff officer who arranged the purchase of this absurd device clearly had no appreciation of just how many multiple millions, nay trillions of flies there were. An issue of 10,000 machines per company would probably have been insufficient. This high-tech device was described as:
A box with a triangular piece of wood revolving on a clockwork-operated spindle and its purpose as might be deduced was to reduce the vast numbers of the fly population with which troops in the forward areas were infested. Through a cutaway opening in the box the unsuspecting fly settled on the revolving triangle, which was sticky with a fly catching material, and then slowly revolved into the box where the now thoroughly bemused fly was scraped off.253
The box came complete with operating instructions and helpful photographs of piles of dead flies slain by this lethal weapon. Predictably, the soldiers turned the boxes to good use and bet on the kill rate of each box. To the Staff in Basra, still utterly divorced from the real world upriver, there were records to keep, and apparently during a period of savage fighting the adjutant of one battalion received a signal to ‘report how many files caught in April’. Across the signal the adjutant wrote, ‘Balls’, and this message was relayed back to the assiduous staff officer in Basra. By immediate response came a correction saying, ‘For files, read flies.’ The adjutant responded, ‘For balls, read cock.’254
This same officer, who had just survived a Turkish bombardment, received a message from Basra asking him to comment on ‘the attitude of the enemy’. He replied, ‘Hostile’. An immediate return asked him to amplify his answer. He replied, ‘Very hostile’.
Townshend or his senior supply officer had initiated a search of Kut for foodstuffs and had found a remarkable amount hidden in the roofs, and in one case behind a skilfully constructed and camouflaged false wall. In addition, Townshend was buying grain from the population. This accumulation in due course would allow him to forecast with confidence that he could hang out until 15 April.255
On 11 March, General Gorringe took over command of the Tigris Corps and advised General Lake that he intended to extend along the right bank of the river, placing his artillery in positions to dominate hostile guns on the left bank. Gorringe, like all of those who had gone before him, was tied to the river and his capacity to move on that river.
That same day, the total number of river steamers and tugs available to support Gorringe was thirty-seven. These vessels propelled the sixty-eight available barges and provided an average daily delivery at the front of 300 tons, against a requirement of 468 tons. This is assuming that no personnel were to be transported and that the full number of craft was always available.
Of course, this was never the case.
Local assets had been commandeered and 200 of the slow and unwieldy mahailas were employed to help fill the transport gap. Matters did improve, albeit slowly, and by 25 March there were forty-five tugs and steamers and an additional seventy-nine barges. This increased the daily lift by 38 tons, offset in part by an increase in the demand of 22 tons.
One of the ongoing difficulties was that vessels sent out to the theatre were of varying types and there was no commonality on spare parts or fittings. Barges that were to be married to these steamers were often incompatible with the power available to move them. On arrival, some steamers required a refit. Unfortunately, Basra was not a port and neither was it a shipyard.
To have made the most of the existing steamers, six barges (two with steamer, two loading and two unloading) would have been necessary for each steamer, but owing to some misunderstanding nothing like this number were sent.256
The climate of Mesopotamia was always a factor; from here on it was the decisive factor. The ever-present Tigris shaped the actions of both sides as its flooding limited movement and, by so doing, negated the best-laid plans.
The newly arrived 13th Division brought the Tigris Corps up to a full strength of 30,000. The 13th Division was commanded by Major General Sir Frederick Maude.257 He was an experienced officer, having already served in the Dardanelles and on the Western Front. Maude was to prosper in Mesopotamia like no other general officer that served in that campaign. He was the only one to win distinction, other than Townshend, although the distinction of the latter ultimately faded.
Every attempt had been made to provide Gorringe with all that he needed and all available river craft had been put to the task of carrying troops, ammunition, ordnance, medical and other warlike stores. But they could not carry everything, and so it was the food that was left behind – it was then swiftly pointed out to Gorringe that he only had ‘rations for seven or eight days’.258 He also had a further 3,000 men in transit to the front, but now rations took precedence and those reinforcements were held back and would not be available in the short term.
Notwithstanding Aylmer’s bloody defeat at the Hanna Defile, Gorringe decided that he would repeat the action and he detailed 13th Division to make the attack. On 31 March/1 April, in very heavy rain, the Division started to move into the forward British trenches. The rain was so severe that the assault was delayed until 5 April, by which time General Lake was in attendance, as was a Brigadier General W. Gilman. The latter was the appointed liaison officer between Indian Expeditionary Force ‘D’ and the War Office in London. His presence was because Kitchener and Robertson obviously wanted their man on the spot to plug the perceived veracity gap; he would report directly to Lieutenant General Sir William Robertson.
The first objective for Gorringe on the left bank was the Turkish position blocking the Hanna Defile.
That consisted of five entrenched lines one behind the other covering a depth of about 1½ miles, with a number of gun positions behind the third line and a barbed wire in front of their advanced line. On the right bank their forward position, just east of the Abu Rumman Mounds, ran roughly southward from the Tigris for about 2 miles.259
There was to be a much more sophisticated artillery programme than hitherto, but there was understandable apprehension in the ranks at the prospect of charging across the same bloody plain that had been the site of an earlier catastrophe. In the event, at 0455 hrs, the 13th Division made its assault behind a rolling bombardment and took the first Turkish line but, nevertheless, with predictable losses. For example, The Prince of Wales Volunteers lost three officers and twenty-three men from its ‘A’ Company alone.
The main body of the Turks had withdrawn unseen and the trenches were empty. A handful of prisoners were taken who said that the flooding had forced the hand of Khalil. He had withdrawn very skillfully and established a new position on the left bank, centred upon the Fallahiya bend and at Sannaiyat.
Maude exploited this swift success by sending his 40th Brigade forward to secure and hold a line between the river and the marsh about 2,000 yards east of the Fallahiya position. Gorringe had no intention of letting the enemy consolidate their dispositions and he determined to apply pressure as soon as possible – not least because the Tigris was rising again, and if the Turks breached the bank they could flood the area in front of their trenches and stop dead any further British advance.
At 1100 hrs, Gorringe stopped any independent actions by his subordinate commanders. The day was brutally hot and the mirage made nonsense of any attempt at observation. He realised that with the marsh and river as his two boundaries on the left bank only a frontal attack was possible. An attack in the relative cool of the evening was favoured.
Meanwhile, over on the right bank, 3rd Division had made excellent progress and, skirting some floods, it had occupied the abandoned Abu Rumman position. The nearest enemy force was at Bait Isa and, according to aerial reconnaissance, that consisted of 1,000 infantry, and there were 2,000 cavalry and six guns at Umm al Baram.
At this point Gorringe had every cause to be satisfied with the opening phase of his plan. At about 1945 hrs, General Maude’s 13th Division, supported by artillery firing from both banks, assaulted Fallahiya. The ground was taken, but only after a stern, bloody fight in which 1,868 casualties were suffered. It was a surprise to find that the enemy position was not a continuous line, nor did it have any depth. All the indications were that Fallahiya was only a temporary blocking position designed to win time to build a stronger Sannaiyat position. Temporary or not, it was effective, as 1,868 witnesses would testify.
Gorringe’s Corps was committed and courageous, but courage was not enough to offset the handicap of a logistics system that failed in every possible respect. The Mesopotamia Commission commented in its Report:
There is a consensus of evidence that the Force was deficient, even as late as in the spring of 1916, in wire cutters, telephones, water carts, Very lights, rockets, tents, mosquito nets, sun helmets, periscopes, telescopic sights, loophole plates, flares, bombs, hand grenades and even blankets and clothing. Our heavy casualties and reverses were in fact largely due to the lack of articles essential to the success of war carried out under modern conditions.260
This is not a list of sophisticated ‘nice to haves’. These are low-cost, simple items that any nineteenth-century army would expect to have in its inventory, and this was the state of affairs nearly two decades into the twentieth century in an army of the British Empire, upon which ‘the sun never sets’.
The extreme left of the Turkish Sannaiyat position had been hard up against floodwaters that had overflowed from the Suwaikiya Marsh. However, capriciously, the water had receded and it looked as if it would be possible to outflank the Turkish left between its current position and the marsh. This was to be the objective of Younghusband’s 7th Division, and the advance of an estimated 2¾ miles across a flat plain should not have presented any navigational problems, especially as there was an old Turkish communication trench that ran from Fallahiya to Sannaiyat to act as a guide. The target was the northern flank of the position, which consisted of three lines of trenches, about 100 yards apart
The attack was timed for 0455 hrs, a favoured time just before first light, but the advance of 7th Division to its assembly position was not straightforward. 19th and 28th brigades arrived in the right place at the right time – this despite them getting tangled up with elements of the 13th Division and its wounded all going in the opposite direction. 21st Brigade got into a frightful mess and the upshot was that at 0455 hrs, the Division was not ready. General Kemball asked Younghusband, his commander, to come forward and make a decision.
It is clear that the enemy were much further away than had been originally calculated; the estimate of 2¾ miles had been about a mile short – perhaps more. Younghusband decided that the attack should continue as (almost) planned, at 0530 hrs. The shroud of darkness was lost but the enemy trenches could not be discerned, so the objective was unclear. What was clear was that the driving north-west wind was having the effect of pushing surface water from the Suwaikiya Marsh and by so doing had contracted the distance between the communication trench and the marsh to about 400 yards.
The British went forward and any doubts as to the location of the enemy were quickly dispelled when they ran into ‘a torrent of fire’261 from both sides of the river. Once again, the bloodletting was horrific, and the first charge stalled, as did subsequent attempts. 7th Division went to ground 400 yards short of the Turkish wire.
The badly bruised 7th Division was extracted to fill a support role and 13th Division was ordered to make an advance on a two-brigade front, with 38th on the right and 40th on the left.
The flooded state of the Suwaikiya Marsh made a turning movement impracticable, and the frontage on which attack was possible was thus reduced to about 1,200 yards – in other words, manoeuvre was impossible, and the attackers were confined to the bottleneck of comparatively dry ground between the Tigris and the marsh.
Captain Whalley-Kelley, writing in the regimental history of The Prince of Wales’s Volunteers (South Lancashire Regiment), recorded a participant’s view of the events that followed:
By 2.00 am on the 9th April the [6th] Battalion [part of 38th Brigade] was formed up on its starting line in four lines of platoons in column at 50 yards distance, with the 6th King’s Own [Royal Lancaster Regiment] on the right and the 6th East Lancashires on the left in the same formation. The objectives were only 650 yards away across the plain, and consequently the men had to lie down while waiting for zero.
It was a bitter night, and during the long wait everyone became numb with cold. At 4.20 am the long lines of infantry moved off silently and punctually, covering the first few hundred yards quickly and easily. When the leading platoons came within a hundred yards of their wire, however, the Turks fired a number of flares obliquely from their front, causing some confusion in the direction of march. At the same time they opened a heavy fire with machine guns and rifles, followed almost immediately by a storm of well-directed shells. The rapidity with which this defensive fire was put down seems to indicate that the enemy was well aware of the impending attack, and as our own artillery bombardment was ten minutes late in commencing it failed to synchronize with the assault – a disastrous error which, combined with the confusion caused by the Turkish flares, prevented all but the leading platoons closing with their opponents. These small parties entered the trenches and drove the enemy back to his second line, but they were unsupported and unable to get farther forward. The Turks rallied and counter-attacked, regaining their front line, although the gallant survivors of the invading platoons held their own until their bombs gave out.
Dawn was now breaking and it proved impossible to rally and reorganize units in daylight under heavy fire, and on ground devoid of any cover. Some companies of the Brigade managed to dig in where they stood, but the remainder fell back to the starting line. By dusk, however, it was clear that there was nothing to be gained by staying out in shallow trenches in exposed localities, and the forward companies were withdrawn also. Later a new line was consolidated about 400 yards from the Turkish position.
The non-success of the attack on the Sannaiyat position was not due to lack of courage on the part of the troops engaged, but their ranks now contained a large percentage of inexperienced soldiers, and owing to the casualties in the previous assaults all units were lacking in trained officers and junior leaders. Further, the difficulties and hazards of a night attack must never be forgotten, even with the most highly trained and seasoned troops.262
Battle casualties in this unsuccessful action amounted to 1,600, and in the two linked actions at Fallahiya and Sannaiyat, the 13th Division lost 3,600 men, or a chilling 46 per cent of its strength. Little wonder that in all that carnage and ferocious hand-to-hand fighting there were numerous acts of great courage, and five Victoria Crosses were won. On 10 April, Townshend issued another communiqué, and in it he said:
The result of the attack of the Relief Force on the Turks entrenched in the Sannaiyat position is that the Relief Force has not yet won its way through, but is entrenched close up to the Turks, in some places 200 or 300 yards distant. General Gorringe wired me last night that he was consolidating his position as close to the enemy’s trenches as he can get, with the intention [of] attacking again. He has had some difficulty with the floods, which he had remedied.
I have no other details. However, you will see that I must not run any risk over the calculated date to which our rations would last – namely 15th April. As you will understand well, digging means delay, although General Gorringe does not say so.
I am compelled therefore to appeal to you all to make a determined effort to eke out our scanty means so that I can hold out for certain till our comrades arrive and I know I shall not appeal to you in vain. I have to reduce our rations to five ounces of meat for all ranks British and Indian.
In this way I can hold out until 21 April, if it becomes necessary, and it is my duty to take all precautions in my power. I am sorry that I can no longer favour the Indian soldiers in the matter of meat, but there is no possibility of doing so now. It must be remembered that there is plenty of horseflesh, which they have been authorised by their religious leaders to eat, and I have to recall with sorrow that by not having taken advantage of this wise and just dispensation, they have weakened my power of resistance by one month.
Townshend then went on to refer back to his communiqué of 26 January, extolled the manner in which the garrison had done its duty hitherto and assured them that they would be remembered in history, not unlike the defenders of ‘Plevna and Ladysmith’. The probability was that not one man in a thousand had ever heard of Plevna, and only the British would connect with Ladysmith. He concluded by saying how confident he was of relief and asked again for support over ‘the food question’.
This communiqué had the merit of bringing the garrison up to date but its content was quickly common knowledge in the town. Among the 6,000 inhabitants there were, without question, informants in touch with the Turks. Thus Townshend’s communiqué gave Khalil the important information he required and was the genesis of his subsequent uncompromising position two weeks or so later when he declined to negotiate with Townshend.
This completely unachievable 15 April deadline applied yet more pressure on Gorringe, who had to fight a redoubtable foe and the elements as well. The water table rose again, and at this time of the year that was only to be expected. What was not expected was that, in what were impossible conditions, the British would be obliged to conduct offensive operations while building bunds to keep floodwaters at bay. On the left bank, the trenches were so filled with water that men had to swim! On the right bank, the Turks broke down the banks at Bait Aisa and Umm-al-Bahram, and by so doing exacerbated the effects of the flood. However, this was not entirely to the Turks’ advantage, as they had to suffer their share of the water and the discomfort.
Gorringe was unimaginative and ruthless, but made of stout stuff. Notwithstanding the bizarre state of the battlefield, he decided that he would cause the 7th Division to hold the line on the left bank whilst he once more concentrated on taking the Es Sinn position. To get at Es Sinn, he had first to eliminate a complex of Turkish trenches that were located at Bait Aisa and in front of Es Sinn. His attack would, of necessity, make best use of what dry ground was available, but the effect of that was to channel his troops into areas that the Turks had already identified as his approach routes.
The troops were, to a man, tired and hungry. Many of them were in failing health. They had been in constant action for several months and the losses had made it necessary to reorganise units into composite battalions. Regimental cohesion was duly lost and, when that went, high morale went with it. Officers did not know their men, nor indeed did they know their fellow officers. Five thousand replacements were en route from Basra, but they were ‘more jam tomorrow’ and their arrival time and date was unknown.
The planned attack was put on ‘hold’ when yet another and especially heavy thunderstorm made any sort of progress impossible. The gale force winds drove the river water over the bund and completely flooded the country between the river and Umm-al-Bahram. The guns were unable to move into position to support the attack.
Eventually, just before first light on 15 April and in the midst of a further storm, the trudge forward was initiated. The 7th and 9th brigades waded slowly towards an objective on the far side of a massive lake. The thunder and lightning that played over their heads affected the compasses in use and, in the dark, men waded purposefully to they knew not where. Some units moved in a complete circle. Only one battalion found and took its objective. Two days later, the brigades tried again to take Bait Aisa. Shrouded by mist, they reached the Turkish lines behind an artillery barrage with only slight casualties.
What followed was a rare and very welcome, albeit brief, success. The 1st/1st Gurkhas and 1st/9th Gurkhas did particularly well, and did fearful execution with their kukris. The Turks were caught off guard. Khalil recognised that this was a critical situation and launched an overwhelming counter-attack with 10,000 men. The Gurkhas, who had advanced well beyond their objective, were cut off and the headquarters of 7th Brigade was captured and then retaken. 13th Division moved forward in support and the British established a line. During the night, the Turks made a series of frontal assaults and 8th Brigade bore the brunt, especially the 59th Rifles and 47th Sikhs. The gunners fired over open sights and the riflemen expended an average of 400 rounds each. With the dawn it became clear that many of those rounds had found a target.
The Battle of Bait Aisa raged on for several days and the balance swayed either way. The irresistible force of legend had met the immovable object of the same legend. It was a bloody and savage affair.
The battlefield was thick with Turkish bodies; the enemy had suffered over 4,000 casualties, the British, 1,650. More Turks were killed in this engagement than in Sheikh Saad, the Wadi and Fallahiya combined.263 This was simply because, for a change, the Turks had been forced into an offensive. Despite their very heavy losses, the Turks still blocked the route to Kut and the relief of the garrison was looking more and more unlikely.
Gorringe was running out of ideas.
In London, patience with Duff and his Indian Army generals was running out.
In Kut, food was running out and men were now starving to death.
The result of all of this was that time too was running out.
It was evident to most of the participants that a disaster was imminent. The Turks had only to delay Gorringe to ensure the capitulation of Kut. In that garrison, by 18 April, life was very grim. In addition, Moberly noted:
The weather was now becoming very hot in the daytime, and the glare of the sunlight, with dust outside the inundated areas, was very trying; and, in addition, all suffered greatly from the plague of flies, mosquitoes and sand flies. A Member of Parliament, who was in Mesopotamia at this period, describes in Mons, Anzac and Kut his experience of the flies. ‘Nothing that I have ever seen or dreamed of came up to the flies. They hatched out until they were almost the air. They were in myriads. The horses were half mad. The flies were mostly tiny. They rolled up in little balls when one passed one’s hand across one’s sweating face. They were on your eyelids and lashes and in your lips and nostrils. We could not speak for them and could hardly see.’264
Edward Mousley recorded in his diary the demise of his much-loved horse, and noted that, ‘Don Juan’ had taken his last hedge. Mousley had, up until this point, managed to extend his charger’s reprieve, but inevitably the order came. He gathered a last feed of grass for the horse, which salaamed most vigorously, as he had been taught. Mousley wrote:
I asked the NCO to be careful that his first bullet was effective and to tell me when it was over. I kissed Don on the cheek; he turned and watched me go. Shortly after they brought me his black tail … Strange as it may seem, we ate his heart and kidneys for dinner, as they are reserved for owners. I am sure he would have preferred that I, rather than another, should do so.265
Gorringe and his troops did not give up. For the next ten days there were continuous offensive operations, all conducted in thick mud, the consistency of porridge or treacle. Weapons were clogged with mud and movement was slow, but nothing inhibited the killing.
The resupply of the garrison was now vital. Desperate situations sometimes call for desperate measures, and in this case the plan was not only desperate but also wildly optimistic. The paddle steamer Julnar, commanded by Lieutenant H.O.B. Firman RN, was selected to make a dash upriver to deliver sustenance to the garrison. In Amara, Julnar was fitted with protective steel plates and sand bags were placed to afford protection. She was then fully loaded. This activity was noted by Arab observers, who passed on the intelligence to the Turks.
There were ample volunteers to man the vessel and twelve, unmarried, naval ratings volunteered to crew the vessel. Engineer Sub Lieutenant W.L. Reed RNR gave his services as Chief Engineer. Lieutenant Commander C.H. Cowley RNVR, who had previously commanded Mejidieh, took the post of pilot. Cowley had been born in Baghdad, spent much of his working life on the Tigris and been employed by the ‘Euphrates’ and ‘Tigris Navigation Company’. By dint of his birthplace he was considered, by the Turks, to be a Turkish subject. Charles Cowley realised that his life would be forfeit if he was captured but, nevertheless, he offered his services – this was particularly courageous, given the very hazardous nature of the mission.
The Tigris was at its height, sand banks were shifting and the 25-mile journey was to be made on the night of 24/25 April. It would not be easy as attempts to conceal the operation had failed. Nevertheless, in a vain attempt to confuse the Turks, all available artillery was brought into action as the ship, bearing 270 tons of supplies, slipped away in the dusk. The Turks were not at all confused; quite the reverse, they waited in ambush.
Julnar came under sustained fire as soon as she closed on the Turkish line. She passed through the Es Sinn line and was within 4 miles of Kut (8½ miles by river) at Magasis when she struck one of several steel hawsers that had been stretched diagonally across the river. She rode over the hawser, but it fouled her rudder and she was held fast.
62. This poor quality photograph is of particular interest as it is the last image of HMS Julnar as she set off on her final mission on 24 April 1916. (W. Nunn)
The ship was a sitting duck, subjected to a fierce bombardment at short range, and after being drenched with fire Julnar succumbed to a boarding party. The survivors of the crew were taken prisoner but Cowley was summarily murdered. Firman, who was killed in the bombardment, and Cowley were awarded the Victoria Cross. Members of the crew were also decorated for a gallant but failed team enterprise.
63. Lieutenant Commander C.H. Cowley VC RNVR, executed by the Turks on 25 April 1916. (E. Sherson)
64. Lieutenant H.O.B. Firman VC RN. (Internet source)
The attempt to succour the Kut garrison had failed, and in doing so it had signalled the end of the aggressive but very costly operations of the Tigris Corps. The Corps had stuck to its task from December 1915 until late April 1916. Tens of thousands of men had been killed or crippled and had suffered frightful privation in the process. ‘These men showed grit and determination of a quality as fine as any recorded in the annuls [sic] of the Army.’266 The MC concluded that, sadly:
There was great cause for anxiety in the state of the supplies of the relieving force. The Army was living from hand to mouth, a state of things to which the usual deficiency of transport largely contributed. … After sixteen days [of] continuous fighting not only against the Turks but against the floods, all hope of relieving Kut had to be given up. The losses had exceeded 33 per cent and were even greater in British officers, and the fighting efficiency of the force was seriously affected.267
All that remained was for the British to negotiate the best terms that Khalil would grant. Townshend obtained the blessing of General Sir Percy Lake, the Army Commander, to open discussions. Lake said optimistically, ‘With your prestige you are likely to get the best terms. We would of course supply food as you might arrange.’268 Townshend’s plan was to suggest to Khalil a six-day armistice, during which they could discuss terms and food could be supplied to the garrison. All troops were to hold their present position. In fact, as he recorded, ‘the result was that much against my will. On 26 April, I had to negotiate with Khalil Pasha knowing that I had not a biscuit up my sleeve to argue with, knowing that Khalil knew I was in extremis for food. Twenty men were now dying daily from starvation.’
Khalil had, of course, a clear view of conditions inside Kut from his informants and Townshend’s own recent insecure communiqué and he responded to Townshend’s approach that same day. Later, the two commanders, each in his own steam launch, met on the river ‘near the right flank of the Turkish entrenchments on the left bank’. Khalil was giving nothing away, and he had no need to. He declined all of Townshend’s gambits, but according to Townshend:
My personal liberty was offered on condition that I did not destroy guns and material, ammunition etc. Such conditions, of course, were impossible to accept. Khalil told me that I would be sent to Constantinople and treated with the same honour as Osman Pasha with whose defence of Plevna269 the Turks compared to mine of Kut. He said that I would be the honoured guest of the Turkish nation. My Force would be sent to Asia Minor to be interned in places in a good climate near the sea.
The final act was the occupation of Kut by Ottoman forces, which took place on 29 April when the Union flag was hauled down. Giving evidence to the MC, General Sir Percy Lake summarised the three main causes of failure. He determined that they were ‘premature attacks, inadequate transport and exceptionally unfavourable weather’.270 This was hardly original thought on Lake’s part. The last two of these factors were evident from the start of the campaign. One was never corrected and the other was predictable, God-given and unavoidable. As for ‘premature attacks’, Lake and the generals who served under him decided the timing of these operations. However, the MC did recognise that, like the curate’s egg of legend, it was not all bad, and remarked:
This army had been put to a severe test, the 6th Division in particular. It had been almost continuously fighting or marching or moving by water for the best part of a year. It had been repeatedly short of supplies and owing to its frequent movements had felt acutely the want of adequate river transport. Nevertheless it had performed feats of fighting and endurance of which any army could be proud. The part of the advance called by the troops Townshend’s regatta was an astounding piece of work.
The Tigris Corps could do no more; the survivors had some respite but they were few in number. Twenty-three thousand casualties had been suffered since relief operations had started. 2nd Black Watch was reduced to forty-eight strong out of 842; 6th Jats, fifty of 825; 125th Rifles, eighty-eight of 840; and 1st Seaforths, 102 of 926. This was the bitter taste of defeat.
From September 1914 until May 1916, fourteen Victoria Crosses had been awarded. Tellingly, eight of these were won in April 1916 alone – all in the frantic attempts to relieve Kut, and perhaps a measure of the intensity of the fighting.
In Kut, when all were mustered, the garrison was composed of:
277 British officers
204 Indian officers
2,592 British rank and file
6,988 Indian rank and file
3,248 Indian camp followers.
This totals 13,309. However, in addition there were 1,450 sick and wounded, and of these, the worse cases, that is to say 1,136, were exchanged and despatched downriver. About three months later, the Turks released a further 345 being held in Baghdad.
During the siege, total casualties had been 3,776, of whom 1,513 had been killed by enemy action, 721 had died of disease and 1,958 had been wounded. Seventy-two men were ‘missing’; some of these were from 67th Punjabis who fell at the bridge on 9 December 1915. The unmeasured balance were deserters.271
65. One of Townshend’s last signals before his surrender. The tone is self-pitying and does not reflect well on him. (R. Braddon)
The civil population of about 6,000 did not get away unscathed: 247 were killed and 663 wounded. Not mentioned by any source are the Turkish prisoners. About 1,200 were taken by 6th Division at Ctesiphon and brought to Kut. However, thereafter their fate is unrecorded and it is presumed that, given the food issue, they were released. It is an intriguing loose end.
The final butcher’s bill for operations in Mesopotamia from September 1914 to May 1916 was 40,000. ‘All this went for nothing, not an inch of ground or any political advantage. Nothing, that is, beyond corpses and ruined reputations.’272
Chapter notes
249 Mousley, E.O., The Secrets of a Kuttite, p.91.
250 Hardinge to Chamberlain, 25 March 1916, Chamberlain papers, 62/2.
251 Busch, Hardinge of Penshurst, p.224.
252 This is an army expression going back generations to describe more colourfully ‘a long time ago’.
253 Barker, A.J., The Neglected War, p.188.
254 Braddon, R., The Siege of Kut, p.262.
255 The papers of Mr R. Hague, as quoted by Braddon, R., in The Siege, p.216.
256 Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.358.
257 Major General (later, Lieutenant General) Frederick Stanley Maude KCB CMG DSO (1864–1917).
258 Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.371.
259 Ibid, p.372.
260 MC Report, p.38.
261 Candler, Edmund, quoted by Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.382.
262 Whalley-Kelley, H., Ich Dien, privately published.
263 Barker, A.J., The Neglected War, p.209.
264 Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.393.
265 Mousley, E.O., The Secrets of a Kuttite, p.131.
266 Barker, A.J., The Neglected War, p.214.
267 MC Report, p.35.
268 Townshend, C.V.F., My Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.335.
269 The Siege of Plevna was a series of major battles of the Russo–Turkish War (1877–78). These battles were fought by the combined armies of Russia and Romania against the Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman defence of that town held up the main enemy advance southwards into Bulgaria for five months. This had the effect of encouraging other great powers actively to support the Ottoman cause. Eventually, after the fourth major engagement in which the Ottoman forces temporarily broke out of confinement, force of arms and starvation forced the garrison to surrender.
270 MC Report, p.35.
271 Moberly, F.J., The Campaign in Mesopotamia, p.459.
272 Dixon, N.E., On the Psychology of Military Incompetence, p.95.