g
Tekrit--Tekrit, the Turkish base, where the Turkish hospitals were, and
'the pretty little Turkish nurses.' 'You chaps don't think about these
things. You're selfish, and don't care. I do.'

The desultory fighting of this day was not without casualties. The 19th
Brigade lost fifty-six men up to 2 p.m.; later I heard the figures
were fourteen killed and seventy-three wounded. These were not in the
'taking' of the single line of Aujeh trenches, but came from
long-distance shell-fire. The cavalry, too, lost men. The enemy slipped
out on our coming, but their guns had the line beautifully registered.
In the evening the 28th Brigade covered the cavalry's return. We had
our own work as well. Fourteen shell-ammunition dumps fell into our
hands by the enemy's retreat from Daur. These we collected, and
quantities of shell-cases and wood. The Turkish gunners had most
elaborate and comfortably-made dugouts, finely timbered. These were
dismantled and fired. We marched in, with the hills ablaze about us,
and the darkness warm and bright.

The 4th was Sunday. Fritz appeared about 6.30 a.m., and bombed us,
coming very low indeed. Mesopotamia being a side-show for us, the enemy
usually had at least one machine better than any of ours. This Sabbath
Fritz spent in fetching bombs and distributing them. Twice he bombed
the Leicestershires in the Turks' old trenches, but hit no one. So he
paid no more attention to the infantry, but looked up the artillery,
and the wagon-lines, and the transport. Here he did a deal of damage,
and we soon had horses careering madly about the place. Reports came
that the Turks were advancing. So, though no one dreamed that they
would make a serious attack, we consolidated the last lines of the Daur
position against them.

My diary notes: 'Rum ration. Flies.' For such elemental things had
existence become memorable.

The day was cheered by news of the Gaza successes, as the previous day
had been by that of Beersheba.

Fritz occupied his afternoon and evening in the same disreputable
fashion. At nightfall our authorities were debating whether to go on to
Tekrit or fall back to Samarra. Diggins, the fire-eater, hoped
earnestly for the former course, and laid confident bets that it would
be. Our brigadier, when I ran across him, deplored that in April we had
stopped at Samarra, though he had urged our going on to Tekrit (or
anywhere else where there were Turks).

Orders came. We were to fall back two mil