The Incomparable 29th and the "River Clyde" Part 16

Rumours reach us that the Germans are still being pressed back about Warsaw, that the Austrians have been defeated in Galicia, and the Turks in the Caucasus.

The Australians at Anzac are making steady, though slow, progress, which appears to be the only point where we can press on at all. The Marquis of Tullibardine arrived here to-day with a body of Scottish Horse--unmounted of course. Padre Campion says he was at Eton with this brilliant soldier.

_September 4th._--A very moderate S.W. breeze is blowing to-day, and our pontoon pier of about thirty boats has gone all to pieces and lies on the sand. Its sole use was to get patients away from the C.C.S. to the hospital s.h.i.+ps. This shows us the difficulties we will have to face in winter with our patients and stores--if we are to be here, which heaven forbid! Padre Dennis Jones has just told me that the betting is that the war in Turkey will be over in a fortnight. He also says he was in the trenches last night when word was pa.s.sed round to prepare to meet a big Turkish attack after dark. This did not come off, last night was quiet except for an occasional spurt of rifle fire.

_September 5th._--Sir Ian Hamilton is reported to have said that the war will be over in ten days.

This morning we have been notified that we go to Imbros, probably for a week, on the night of the 8/9th. This does not seem to give pleasure to many. It means a night spent in crossing, and being tired all next day when we will have to work hard to provide shelter, then returning before we get really settled down. If this order takes effect we will besides miss the "grand finale" which will be held among the forts of "The Narrows" (!!!)

There was much artillery fire by both sides yesterday, and this morning they have been very busy--they even managed to send two sh.e.l.ls after a Taube, these bursting many hundred yards behind their objective. But it let the Taube see that we were not asleep at 7.30 a.m.

My friend Pirie, M.O. to the Royals, pa.s.sed through this in the afternoon, having been wounded in the back while he was holding his Sick Parade--only a "couchy wound," such as the Irish pray to the Virgin Mary to send them at the beginning of a fight, so that they might escape something worse. Pirie walked in with his usual smile, and pleaded with us, before we knew there was anything wrong, "not to make him laugh as it was sore". (To everyone's sorrow, Pirie was afterwards killed in France.)

_September 7th._--It was the duty of Aga.s.siz and myself to take over the dressing station last night, and there we now are. After the experience we had last time when we did not feel over comfortable after dark and the bullets began to fly, we were glad to occupy the same dug-out during the night, for the sake of company. It is a most unpleasant feeling to find you are fired at when alone. I have noticed this especially when out a walk just as it is getting dark. You ask yourself how long you may have to lie, if you get wounded, before anyone comes your way. But even in daylight if sh.e.l.ls are dropping about they are doubly terrifying if you are alone.

This Gully has been a most uncomfortable place all along, its banks afford little protection from rifle fire; they are too low for cross-fire, and a few days ago we found it could be enfiladed. At ordinary times we have only occasional bullets during the day, but as soon as the shades of night begin to fall they come in a constant stream, and we are only safe when we retire to the depths of our dug-outs--if our shallow pits are worthy of the name.

We keep wondering what sort of a holiday we are to have in Imbros. Are there to be plagues of flies and dust as in Lemnos? However, it will break the monotony which is getting very oppressive, and some of ours keep up a constant grumble at everybody and everything.

The nights are now very cold, but the heat by day seems about as intense as ever.

_September 9th._--We had orders yesterday to embark at Little West Beach, at the north point of Suvla Bay. We were there at 7.30 p.m. and were to embark at 8. It was a weary trudge, for we were heavily laden, along the very edge of the bay to take advantage of the narrow strip of firm sand that gets washed by the "tideless Mediterranean". Our four Battalions were present, and after some delay over our baggage, all which was finally got on board, the great lumbering barge, which had 400 men and all the regimental baggage on board, refused to budge.

She was fast on the rocks where the water was very shallow. At last she moved, going out a few yards then returning and taking all the Dublins and so many Royals on board. Then she again stuck fast. It was now getting late; the s.h.i.+p this barge was taking us out to was booked to sail at 3.30 a.m., and this time had to be kept regardless of our convenience. As she was still aground at that hour the order was given to disembark. All this time we had been lying s.h.i.+vering on the dust and stones, waiting for our turn, and now, with our spirits at zero, we marched back to our base, reaching it at 4.45 as light was showing in the east, so that we got back none too soon. The long wait we had put in, with a cold wind blowing, had chilled us all thoroughly. All had some brandy on our return, we got to bed at 5.30, and I for one slept like a top and rose refreshed at 8.30, as also did Aga.s.siz. He and I felt so famished that we ground up some ration biscuits and made porridge, which we enjoyed. None of the others got off their stretchers before mid-day, when they did not know whether to order breakfast or dinner. It ended in high tea.

A wagon with six mules pa.s.sed behind us this afternoon, and drew a hot shrapnel fire on all the Ambulances on the Beach. We had one man wounded, the 1st Welsh one killed (Capt. Clark) and three wounded, and the 3rd Welsh four wounded.

We again have orders to embark at 7.30.

_September 10th._--The hour for embarking was afterwards changed to 8.30. Owing to the sh.e.l.ling we had just been subjected to this pleased us, as we could march down in the dark at this later hour. We got on board without any adventures and were taken out by two tow boats to our old friend, the "Abba.s.sieh". The sea was choppy and our boat b.u.mped unmercifully against the s.h.i.+p's side and ladder. We had supper on board, tea, bread and b.u.t.ter with cheese making a right royal feast, these articles never tasting half so good in all our lives before. Never till then did I fully appreciate how much we had roughed it since we came to Suvla Bay. Our bread has usually been vile, and often was not to be had at all, and everything has been unusually filthy and smelly. This was often due to our being unable to spare a drop of water to wash out our cooking utensils.

No doubt what has really taken it out of us most is the constant danger we are in from bullets and sh.e.l.ls, and especially the former at our Advanced Dressing Station in The Gully (Azmac Dere). After supper and a gla.s.s of beer we went to bed, and found genuine spring mattresses, a tremendous luxury. The very ground at Suvla seems to be harder than at h.e.l.les, and I often get up in the morning feeling stiff and sore. However, I much prefer living on chunks of anything out at the dressing station, and sleeping on a few rushes spread on the bottom of a shallow hole, to the comforts and safety of our base in the sandbank of Suvla Bay.

When the anchor was raised, with the usual amount of rattle, it roused one of our men who was asleep on deck; he sprang to his feet and dashed over the s.h.i.+p's rail, and really never woke up till he found himself in the water. Cries of "man overboard" were raised, and with much scurrying the ladder was let down, and being a strong swimmer he was got on board none the worse for his early bath. He was sent down to the engine room to dry.

We landed at Imbros about 9 a.m.

Imbros is a busy place, and has a big natural harbour facing the north, dotted over with wars.h.i.+ps and transports, and a considerable number of monitors each armed with one or two huge guns, all 14-inch I believe.

Our camp is in a dusty spot, and the wind makes it disagreeable and ruffles our tempers. There are about a dozen canteens, run by Greeks whose prices I am glad to see are fixed for all articles. I bought two kilos (4-1/2 lbs.) of grapes and a few tomatoes, intending them for our mess, but I could not resist the grapes, I had an overpowering longing for fruit, and ate most of them, skins, stones and all, on my way back. I have tried to take up a bet to eat 2 lbs. against every lb. eaten by anyone in the mess.

The hills and valleys I have not yet visited, but these look inviting.

We are encamped on an extensive dead level between the sea and the hills.

_September 11th._--I had a walk with Stephen last night, just before dark, to a hill about a mile off. From the top we were able to get a good idea of the beauties of Imbros. Except for the stretch where we are encamped, the whole island is one ma.s.s of rough, volcanic mountains, with narrow, fertile flats, carefully cultivated and bearing healthy, looking fig, olive, and other trees. A large herd of goats, wending their way home down a narrow track between rugged hills, away down below us, all with their bells tinkling, made a fine picture of a peaceful evening scene. As we sat and smoked beside a towering pinnacle of volcanic rock a raven went sailing past us, with his croak, croak. I remember Professor McGillivray, in his "Natural History of Deeside," describes what was perhaps a not altogether dissimilar scene among the Cairngorms, and addressing a raven on a rock beside him calls him "poor fellow".

_September 12th._--Did nothing in particular to-day. We had church parade in the afternoon, Padre Campion officiating, and a mail consisting almost entirely of parcels, every second one smashed up till it could not be delivered. Stephen and I have arranged to go to Panagheia to-morrow, and we walked out to a spot at the foot of the hills to order ponies, donkeys, or whatever they had, for our trip.

When there an old Greek came riding in on a donkey with two panniers full of grapes, to which he asked us to help ourselves, they cost him nothing and he would make us welcome to as many as we liked at the same price. I ate a pound at least and still felt hungry. He said when this island was Turkish the taxes were very heavy, then the Greeks came along and they became worse, but he had been a sailor and a good deal in England, so he always swore to the tax collector that he was an Englishman and exempt from all taxes, so he has never paid a penny.

We got more grapes from him, by purchase this time, big, luscious ones at 6d per kilo. We ate at our hardest while the Greek looked out big bunches that could be tied together, and for these he wanted, in Greek fas.h.i.+on, to charge an extra 3d. "d.a.m.n you for a greedy devil," says Stephen, we dived into his pannier and each had another big bunch, paid him, and returned to camp where we had a really good dinner--roast chicken stuffed with oatmeal and onions, beans, stewed pears, Vermouth, and three half bottles of champagne (from the Medical Comforts pannier!), then port and nuts (the former from ditto), and ended with cigars and Egyptian cigarettes. We had not dined so well since we left Alexandria.

I believe to-day is the first day since we left England on March 18 that we have not seen the sun. As we were leaving the pony depot we fell in with Atlee of the Munsters who had been at Panagheia, and he says a pony is no use except for a bit of "sw.a.n.k," you have to walk practically the whole way beside your animal.

Thomson went into hospital to-day. He has been ailing for some weeks, and looks thin and far from well.

_September 13th._--A red letter day. Last night we had a few showers, and in the morning as the sky was overcast we at first decided not to go to Panagheia, but as the blue sky began to break through by 9 we set off and were mounted on our shelties by 10. These we picked up at the edge of the mountains, beyond the camping ground. A dozen or two of animals--ponies, donkeys, and mules--were ready saddled, the owner of each pus.h.i.+ng his way forward when he saw a likely customer coming along, eager to display the good points of his animal. I got astride a pack saddle, a wonderful structure of substantial sticks and raw hide, with a big, comfortable cus.h.i.+on on the top, for stirrups a piece of rope, and bridle the same, without bit, the rope being merely twisted and knotted round the lower jaw.

We at once dipped into a deep valley, clothed on all sides in thick shrubbery, with plenty of trees in the lowest part, along which there was a tiny stream with occasional beautiful rocky pools. The trees here and all along were princ.i.p.ally olives, figs, mulberry, and a few walnuts. The road was the merest track, littered with stones, and wound up hill and down dale. At first it was so bad that I thought it must surely lead soon to a better path, but little did I think what we were in for; we were soon among huge boulders, and nothing but boulders, up and down shelving rock, often 2 feet higher than the path, slithering over stretches of hard, bare rock, and all the time without a single stumble on the part of any one of our mounts. There were four of us--Stephen, Aga.s.siz, Padre Campion, and myself--each with a guide dressed in blue material, and all sorts of head gear, and with the usual fold upon fold of cloth round the waist, shoes of raw hide with the hair outside, held on by twists of hide from the ankle to the knee, in proper brigand style.

The scenery soon became simply glorious, and my three companions, who all knew Switzerland, said it was exactly like that country, except for the absence of chalets. The hills rose on all sides, some to a height of 5000 feet, rough as possible, all volcanic of course, some looking as if they had belched out flames and smoke not so very long ago. One reminded me of Ben Sleoch as it rises out of Loch Maree, the same ma.s.s of rock atop, but here more rugged. Each mountain top and side was studded with enormous needle-like pinnacles and rough warty ma.s.ses. It is strange how fertile these volcanic earths are, these high mountains were clothed with trees below, and had thick shrubbery almost to the top--mostly hollyoak, I fancy. The colouring of the rocks is very fine, the colours being warm reds, browns, purples, and yellows in one mingled ma.s.s.

By 11.30 we had crossed the highest part of our path, and a wide valley came in sight a mile or two off, great ma.s.ses of olive trees, with a large village away ahead on a hillside, and after a little time our destination hove in sight, round the shoulder of a mountain on our right, nestling among trees of deep green colour. These turned out to be mostly mulberry which has a very luscious and cool looking leaf; no fruit unfortunately, its season was over. We pa.s.sed along the picturesque streets of Panagheia, with their projecting windows and vine entwined balconies, to a place proudly labelled "Hotel Britannic, J. Christie, proprietor, a British subject". The Hotel London we had been warned to pa.s.s by, as the catering was not so good, and strange to say, when we returned to camp and the orders of the day were being read at supper, it was there announced that this hotel was out of bounds for the time being, the proprietor being of suspected nationality.

Stephen was at his best, and was the life of the party and of everyone we came across, and greatly amused our guides. One of the guides had his little son with him who was named Georgo by Stephen, who told the little chap that his own name was Stephanos. He mounted him behind his saddle, and when lifting him down at the first halt, he said, "You've done d.a.m.nedo wello, Georgo". Georgo showed by a broad grin that he felt flattered.

Lunch was ordered in the fine hotel of J. Christie, which was upstairs over a cobbler's shop, and consisted of one very small room which we filled, with a larger one off it, and behind was the kitchen, only half of which was floored, and through the great gaping part you looked down to the back of the cobbler's premises, a place full of empty bottles and the abode of J. Christie's poultry. That was the whole establishment, but they could cook. J. Christie, being an Italian and not a Britisher, was an excellent _chef_, and soon prepared for us first-rate soup, then boiled partridge which was likely a chicken from the hole I have mentioned. Then came the dish of the day--honey omelettes, which were brought in one at a time, glorious creations over which we poured delicious drained honey. They were so good that Stephen gave the order that they were to go on turning them out till he told them to stop. Each had two big ones, and after each you felt hungrier than ever. The wine of the country we of course also had, one called Morea not unlike champagne. Then cheese and Turkish coffee, after which we set off to view the village. We landed at the school when it chanced to be play time, but we went through the rooms followed by all the scholars, fine bright boys and girls, and Stephen with a piece of chalk showed them some new method of multiplication, which was far more complicated than the old way we all know. In a hall they had two large pictures, one of Venezelos, who they declared was good, the other of Gunariz who was bad. One little chap was the son of the local doctor and spoke French well. He said his father was a graduate of Paris University.

It was altogether a most enjoyable day, the padre saying it was the day of his life. He was a good fellow the padre, and nothing delighted him more, he remarked, than to hear Stephen saying "d.a.m.n," he put so much expression into the word.

We commenced the return journey at 4.45 when the colouring of the mountains was perfect, and the padre always insisted on dismounting to take a sketch of some particularly fine scene. He got ahead of us one time when we came upon him seated on a big stone in a rough watercourse, surrounded with oleanders and sketching a peep of a grand mountain between two nearer ridges.

When we returned we found Sir Ian Hamilton had inspected our Ambulance, and made himself pleasant all round.

_September 14th._--A cold wind blew all day--from the north of course.

Saw the sun only occasionally.

I took the Lancas.h.i.+re Fusiliers Sick Parade this morning, when 215 presented themselves as sick--every fourth man. I expect the order of the day had included a route march. There is nothing Tommy hates more than a route march.

_September 15th._--The nights get still colder, and this forenoon was like an October day at home, but later it was bright and warm without a breath of wind. Our airmen made the most of the calm spell and took out the only airs.h.i.+p we have here and circled about for at least two hours, with a fast monoplane scouting in case of reprisals. The sun is at present sinking in the west and the evening colouring among the mountains makes one long for everlasting peace, there is too much discord between such scenes and our errand out here.

_September 16th._--Just as I got out of bed at 7 am some one called out that a Taube was dropping bombs. It dropped four a short way from us. It was at a great height and got a good peppering from our s.h.i.+ps in the harbour. In about fifteen minutes it returned, or it may have been another aeroplane, and let loose five or six bombs at the G.O.C.

in C.'s H.Q. where, I afterwards heard, five men were wounded. It was heading straight over us, but the fire again got too hot for it and it made off to the south, but it was most daring and persistent and put in a third appearance, when one of our monoplanes, a very fast machine, went up and we expected some fun. After ascending in large spirals they got on the same level when the Taube turned round and faced our machine, both now at a very great height, and both evidently firing at each other, when suddenly our machine dived down at a tremendous speed. We of course thought the airman or his plane had been disabled. We heard in the evening that his gun jammed, and being helpless he wisely cleared out.

Stephen and I were to take the whole Ambulance to Panagheia, and I went early to the Lancs. to get their Sick Parade over. Stephen promised to a.s.sist and was to be up early too, but he turned up last for breakfast, and I had inspected two companies before he arrived.

Nothing eventful happened on our 6 or 7 mile march across the mountains. Big, threatening thunderclouds, with rain on the high peaks before us, rather detracted from our enjoyment, and the Greeks we met pointed to the clouds and with a descending motion of their hands prophesied rain. However, it never did rain and the afternoon was perfect. The Greeks followed us with pony loads of grapes (Staphila, they call them), pomegranates, and figs, and we fared well. A pony in front of us tumbled down a steep incline and we straightway wished to buy its load which was scattered everywhere. I picked up a lot of figs which were dead ripe and delicious. The black grapes of these parts would be difficult to beat, and I must have eaten 3 lbs. of these on our way.

After halting the men beyond the village, and having lunch to which they were allowed beer, a luxury which few of them had tasted for many months, Stephen and I went to a small village half a mile further on.

Many go from Panagheia to Castro, a fis.h.i.+ng village, but our little place was off the beaten track and quite unspoiled. We entered a primitive cafe where we had a cup of good coffee, served as usual in a very tiny cup with a big tumbler of water. Two Greek policemen were sipping their coffee and playing cards, and we managed to enter into conversation with them and some other loafers. Many of the old women were spinning about their doors, and we saw some of their work. Their wool (goat's) when carded is very fine and fluffy, but the material when woven is hard and looks as if it would wear for ever.