29 November, 1915
If the Turks don’t get me first, I might just die of boredom. There are no books here, and the closest thing to entertainment is Captain Crownsworth’s deck of cards. The soldiers make wagers, but have nothing to bet. “If ya beat me, I’ll give ya a hundred pound when we get home, I swears it!” they say, or something along those lines. The only trouble is no one really knows when we’ll get home, if at all. Not to mention, I doubt that any non-officer here has a hundred pounds to wager, but that’s beside the point. If my friends back home found out that I started a diary, I would never hear the end of it, but here I am with nothing better to do. I remember when I signed up at the recruiting office I expected to be stationed in …show more content…
Most of the officers seem to be at a loss for words as to why he’s taking us to Kut, when Basra is clearly the better place to withstand a siege. I don’t know much about military strategy, but I feel like camping in the middle of the desert isn’t the best idea when we get all of our supplies from the sea. At Basra at least we could be resupplied and be evacuated if the need arose, but I suppose Townshend knows what he’s doing. Then again, after the debacle at Ctesiphon last week, I don’t think I can really trust his leadership much anymore. In two days we lost nearly half of our army, all because Townshend ordered us to charge blindly into a wall of Ottomans. We actually killed more of them than they did of us, apparently, but it doesn’t feel like it. Now they’re chasing us into the desert, and here we are. In the meantime, we keep marching, and honestly I can’t tell if we’re even moving anymore. The desert is completely featureless, and every day seems to be identical to the last: we march all night across sand dunes, make camp from 11-3 to avoid the sun as best we can, and then march across more dunes. The heat makes everything seem like a dream. I’ve become accustomed to the monotony of marching, I suppose, but I can’t get used to the heat. The worst part is that the tents don’t exactly make things cooler. It true that the shade they provide is nice, …show more content…
I wouldn’t even describe it as a “town”; Kut is more like a village. Most of the houses are abandoned as the people have left in anticipation our arrival. There aren’t any children left, and the few women are completely covered head to heel. The entire town reeks of camel manure and the sickly, sweet stench of unwashed human. I honestly doubt that these Turks have ever even seen a shower before, if I’m being perfectly honest. I thought about buying some Arabic wear and sneaking out, but on second thought it’s a preposterous idea, and where would I go afterwards? Back to Suez? I’d be hung for a deserter. We’ve been working without rest since our arrival, building walls and barriers as best we can. Frankly, though, I doubt it’ll protect us much, and we don’t even have enough barbed wire to surround the entire camp. As if that weren’t damning enough, this morning when going for my morning walk I decided to look over the ramparts, but to my dismay it seems like the Turks have gained more men on the trip here. They must have at least a hundred guns and twenty thousand men, regulars, as far as I can tell. General Townshend has sent the cavalry away to save themselves, but we can’t leave. God help
If the Turks don’t get me first, I might just die of boredom. There are no books here, and the closest thing to entertainment is Captain Crownsworth’s deck of cards. The soldiers make wagers, but have nothing to bet. “If ya beat me, I’ll give ya a hundred pound when we get home, I swears it!” they say, or something along those lines. The only trouble is no one really knows when we’ll get home, if at all. Not to mention, I doubt that any non-officer here has a hundred pounds to wager, but that’s beside the point. If my friends back home found out that I started a diary, I would never hear the end of it, but here I am with nothing better to do. I remember when I signed up at the recruiting office I expected to be stationed in …show more content…
Most of the officers seem to be at a loss for words as to why he’s taking us to Kut, when Basra is clearly the better place to withstand a siege. I don’t know much about military strategy, but I feel like camping in the middle of the desert isn’t the best idea when we get all of our supplies from the sea. At Basra at least we could be resupplied and be evacuated if the need arose, but I suppose Townshend knows what he’s doing. Then again, after the debacle at Ctesiphon last week, I don’t think I can really trust his leadership much anymore. In two days we lost nearly half of our army, all because Townshend ordered us to charge blindly into a wall of Ottomans. We actually killed more of them than they did of us, apparently, but it doesn’t feel like it. Now they’re chasing us into the desert, and here we are. In the meantime, we keep marching, and honestly I can’t tell if we’re even moving anymore. The desert is completely featureless, and every day seems to be identical to the last: we march all night across sand dunes, make camp from 11-3 to avoid the sun as best we can, and then march across more dunes. The heat makes everything seem like a dream. I’ve become accustomed to the monotony of marching, I suppose, but I can’t get used to the heat. The worst part is that the tents don’t exactly make things cooler. It true that the shade they provide is nice, …show more content…
I wouldn’t even describe it as a “town”; Kut is more like a village. Most of the houses are abandoned as the people have left in anticipation our arrival. There aren’t any children left, and the few women are completely covered head to heel. The entire town reeks of camel manure and the sickly, sweet stench of unwashed human. I honestly doubt that these Turks have ever even seen a shower before, if I’m being perfectly honest. I thought about buying some Arabic wear and sneaking out, but on second thought it’s a preposterous idea, and where would I go afterwards? Back to Suez? I’d be hung for a deserter. We’ve been working without rest since our arrival, building walls and barriers as best we can. Frankly, though, I doubt it’ll protect us much, and we don’t even have enough barbed wire to surround the entire camp. As if that weren’t damning enough, this morning when going for my morning walk I decided to look over the ramparts, but to my dismay it seems like the Turks have gained more men on the trip here. They must have at least a hundred guns and twenty thousand men, regulars, as far as I can tell. General Townshend has sent the cavalry away to save themselves, but we can’t leave. God help