isal were so
rare. Apart from this of the Cherub's, only two came within my personal
knowledge. Of these two cases, one I and nearly the whole division
considered savage and unjustifiable, which was also the official view.
It was the act of a very young subaltern, mistakenly interpreting an
order. In the other case an Arab was caught red-handed, lurking in a
ditch on our line of march, with one of their loaded knobkerries for
any straggler. I do not know what happened, but have no doubt that he
was shot.

It cannot be said that they acted for patriotic motives, as the Spanish
guerrillas against Napoleon's troops. I remember an article[5] by Sir
William Willcocks dealing with his experiences before the war, in which
he tells how he and a friend went ashore from a steamer on the Tigris.
An Arab calmly dropped on one knee and took aim at the Englishmen, as
if the latter were gazelles or partridges. He missed, and they followed
him into his village, where they asked him why he had fired. The man
answered that he did it in self-defence, for the others had fired
first. 'That,' said the Englishmen, 'is impossible, for you see we are
unarmed.' Hearing this, the village rushed on them and robbed them of
their valuables. Yet one of them was an official high in Government
service.

The other side of the shield, as it affected Brother Buddu, was shown
next day at Harbe. At dawn three men and four women were found in the
middle of the 19th Brigade's camp, outside General Peebles' tent,
wailing. The women said their husbands had been bayoneted and mutilated
by Turks a fortnight before, and buried here. This story proved true.
The women dug up and bore off the decomposing fragments for decent
burial.

The Buddu was an alien in his own land, loathed and oppressed by the
Turk. In his turn he robbed and slew as chance offered. He pursued the
chase for the pelt, and went after human life as our more civilized
race go after buck.

About this time the Bishop of Nagpur was on his second visit from
India. His see was usually mispronounced as Nankipoo. He was following
us up to consecrate the graves of our battlefields. Great delight was
given by the thought that Westlake's still unexploded bombs would
receive consecration also for any retributive work that awaited them.
And we brooded over the suggestion that the good Bishop might find,
even in Mesopotamia, Elijah's way to heaven, fiery-chariot-wise.

Our new camp was amid mounds and r