s coming. The official message was that the enemy was
incapable of serious opposition. But of this the rank and file knew
nothing; had they known, old experience would have made them sceptical.
Fowke's view, that all would prove to be for the worst in the worst of
all possible worlds and arrangements, was the reigning philosophy. An
adapted edition of Schopenhauer would have sold well in the mess (or
anywhere in Mesopotamia). Novelists speak of the hero being conscious
that eyes, in the forest or in his room at night (as may be), are
watching, watching. This knowledge governs the feeling of 'going in
artillery formation,' with the added knowledge that, though in broad
sun, you cannot hope to see your foe, who is certain to spring on you,
and merely waits till you are well under fire.

The bolt fell. About 9 a.m. a double report was heard; then the Cherub
sent back word, 'Four enemy snipers retiring.' By 9.30 firing was
heavy. The Cherub was wounded, and his two scouts killed. The enemy was
invisible, and mirage made ranging impossible. The ground four hundred
yards away was a fairyland that danced and glimmered. When a target was
perceived, of Turks racing back, the orders for fire were changed
quickly, from 'Three hundred yards' to 'fourteen hundred yards.' Very
vainly. This mirage continued throughout the fight. Ahead was what we
called the 'Second Median Wall,' a crumbled wall some twenty feet high,
which ran across the front of the mounds. To its extreme left, our
right, and in front of this wall, was the Turkish police-post of
Istabulat, by which the battle was presently to be raging.

In those mounds the enemy had excellent cover. Our leading company
followed the scouts, and took possession of the ruins. The 'Tigers'
were arranged in four lines, according to companies, with less than
three hundred yards between the lines. Dropping bullets fell fast,
especially in the rear lines. About 10 a.m. two shells burst about a
hundred yards in front of Wilson and myself. Then Hell opened all her
mouths and spat at us. The battalion lay down and waited.
Twelve-pounder 'pipsqueaks' came in abundance, with a sprinkling of
heavier stuff. Many soldiers prefer the latter. You can hear a 5.9
coming, and it gives you time to collect yourself, and thus perhaps
escape giving others the trouble to collect what is left of you. I
remember once hearing General Peebles say that in his long experience
of many wars he had known only three