h the
days were still very hot and oppressive, the nights were almost bitterly
cold. A night-march is always a disagreeable business. The head of the
column checks and halts, and those in the rear have no idea whether it is
an involuntary stop for a few minutes, or whether they are to halt for an
hour or more, owing to some complication of orders. So we stood shivering,
and longed for a smoke, but of course that was strictly forbidden, for the
cigarettes of an army would form a very good indication of its whereabouts
on a dark night. All night we marched and halted, and started on again;
the dust choked us, and the hours seemed interminable, until at last at
two in the morning word was passed along that we could have an hour's
sleep. The greater part of the year in Mesopotamia the regulation army
dress consisted of a tunic and "shorts." These are long trousers cut off
just above the knee, and the wearer may either use wrap puttees, or
leather leggings, or golf stockings. They are a great help in the heat,
as may easily be understood, and they allow, of course, much freer knee
action, particularly when your clothes are wet. The reverse side of the
medal reads that when you try to sleep without a blanket on a cold night,
you find that your knees are uncomfortably exposed. Still we were, most of
us, so drunk with sleep that it would have taken more than that to keep us
awake. At three we resumed our march, and attacked just at dawn. The enemy
had abandoned the first-line positions, and we met with but little
resistance in the second. Our cavalry, which was concentrated at several
points in nullahs (dry river-beds), suffered at the hands of the hostile
aircraft. The Turk had evidently determined to fall back to Tekrit without
putting up a serious defense. They certainly could have given us a much
worse time than they did, for they had dug in well and scientifically.
Among the prisoners we took there were some that proved to be very worth
while. These Turkish officers were, as a whole a good lot--well dressed
and well educated. Many spoke French. There is an excellent gunnery school
at Constantinople, and one of the officers we captured had been a senior
instructor there for many years. We had with us among our intelligence
officers a Captain Bettelheim, born in Constantinople of Belgian
parentage. He had served with the Turks against the Italians and with the
British against the Boers. This gunnery officer turned out to be an