*       *       *       *       *

    +--------------------------------------------------------------+
    | Transcriber’s Note:                                          |
    |                                                              |
    | A number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected |
    | in this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of  |
    | this document.                                               |
    |                                                              |
    +--------------------------------------------------------------+

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THE FIFE AND FORFAR YEOMANRY




[Illustration: OFFICERS AT FAKENHAM, 1915.
_Back Row (left to right)._—Lt. Smith, Lt. Rigg, Lt. Hutchison, Lt.
Herdman. Lt. Gray, Lt. Stewart, Lt. Marshall, Lt. Lindsay, Lt.
Robertson, Capt. Osborne, Lt. Don, Lt. Cummins, Capt. Mitchell, Capt.
Ogilvie. Capt. Tuke, Major De Prée, Major Gilmour, Lt.-Col. Mitchell,
Capt. Lindsay, Major Younger, Major Nairn. Lt. Nairn, Lt. Andrew, Lt.
Sir W. Campbell, Lt. Inglis.
_Frontispiece_]




THE FIFE AND
FORFAR YEOMANRY

AND 14TH (F. & F. YEO.) BATTN. R.H.

1914–1919


BY MAJOR D.D. OGILVIE

WITH A PREFACE BY
MAJOR-GENERAL E.S. GIRDWOOD, C.B., C.M.G.
Lately G.O.C. 74th (Yeomanry) Division


ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS


LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1921




_All rights reserved_




FOREWORD


Major Ogilvie has done me the honour of asking me to write a short
preface to a work which to me is of peculiar interest.

To write a preface—and especially a short one—is a somewhat
difficult task, but my intense pride in, and admiration for, the part
played by the Battalion with which the gallant author was so long and
honourably associated must be my excuse for undertaking to do my best.

From his stout record as a soldier the author’s qualifications to
write this history are undoubted. His readers will be able to follow
from start to glorious finish of the Great War the fortunes of that
gallant little band of Fife and Forfar Yeomen who ultimately became
the 14th (Fife and Forfar Yeomanry) Battalion The Royal Highlanders.

There was little of moment in the operations of the Egyptian
Expeditionary Force in which this unit did not take part. In divers
theatres of war they answered the call of Empire—from Gallipoli to
Jerusalem, from Jerusalem to France—ever upholding the honour of
their King and Country and the best traditions of the British Army.

No matter what by-path of the Great War they trod they bore themselves
with the undaunted spirit of their forefathers.

The experiences of the Battalion were so full of interest as to seem
well worth placing on record—quite apart from the military importance
of the operations in which they were concerned.

The ordinary reader must consider the conditions under which the work
of this unit was carried out—often under a burning sun and again in
bitter cold, mud and torrential rain—conditions which might well
appal the stoutest heart, but here I note that the gallant author, as
I expected, makes light of the many hardships and vicissitudes that he
and his comrades were called upon to endure.

Again, when we consider how these heroes first entered the lists as
cavalry, were then called upon to serve as dismounted cavalry, and
finally as infantrymen, it surely speaks highly for that “will to win”
that they had not long before the cessation of hostilities died of a
broken heart!

Many a time during the two years that I had the honour to command the
74th (Yeomanry) Division both in Palestine and France, I noted—not
without a feeling of intense pride—the cheery “never-say-die” spirit
which pervaded all ranks of this splendid Battalion.

No matter what task was set them—no matter what the difficulties and
privations to be encountered—all was overcome by that unfaltering
determination and unswerving loyalty which carried them triumphant
wherever the fates called them.

In conclusion of these few poor remarks of mine, let me congratulate
the author on his story. If others read it with the same interest and
enjoyment with which it has filled me, I can only think that the
author’s labours have not been in vain.

Further, may these remarks go forth, not only as a token to my old
friends of the 14th Battalion The Royal Highlanders, of the
admiration, affection, and gratitude of their old Commander, but to
the whole of Scotland as a tribute to the memory of those good and
gallant comrades of the “Broken Spur” whom we left behind in foreign
lands.

  ERIC S. GIRDWOOD,

  _(late) Major-General,
  Commanding 74th (Yeomanry) Division._

  PORTSMOUTH,
  _20th August 1921_.




INTRODUCTION


This short history, written by request, was started shortly after the
Regiment was disbanded. For the delay in publishing it, I must plead
the great mass of inaccuracies which had to be corrected and verified,
entailing a considerable amount of correspondence and consequent lapse
of time. It has been compiled from Official Diaries and Forms, and
from a Diary kept by Lieut.-Colonel J. Younger, D.S.O., without whose
assistance it would never have been completed.

It will, however, recall to the reader’s mind the strenuous and
eventful days we spent together in a regiment of whose history we are
all so justly proud, and whose career now as a Yeomanry Regiment is
ended, and it will recall the gallant fellows with whom we served and
many a gallant deed.

To the glorious memory of those whose graves lie in a foreign land, I
humbly dedicate this book.

  D. DOUGLAS OGILVIE.

  _April 1920._




CONTENTS


CHAP.                                                        PAGE

   I. AT HOME—1914–1915                                        1

  II. ABROAD—1915                                              9

 III. EGYPT—1916                                              30

      LIST OF OFFICERS                                         40

  IV. EGYPT AND PALESTINE—1917                                41

   V. PALESTINE—1918                                         107

  VI. FRANCE—1918                                            119

 VII. SOME PERSONALITIES                                      143

VIII. THE PREDECESSORS OF THE FIFE AND FORFAR YEOMANRY        159

      HONOURS AND AWARDS                                      165

      LIST OF CASUALTIES                                      168

      INDEX                                                   204




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                   _Face Page_

Officers at Fakenham, 1915                      _Frontispiece_

N.C.O.’s at Fakenham, 1915                                      2

H.M. The King, with Brigadier-General Lord Lovat and
  Major-General Bruce Hamilton                                  4

The Regiment in Column of Troops at St Ives                     4

Crossing the Bridge, St Ives                                    6

Lieut. R.G.O. Hutchison and Machine Gun Section, 1915           6

Guard Mounting, Fakenham                                        8

Entraining Horses, Fakenham                                     8

Gebel-el-Ghenneim, Khargeh Oasis                               18

The Highland Barricade, Asmak Dere, Suvla                      18

Captain Tuke on “Joseph”                                       34

In the Village of Khargeh                                      34

Sentry on Water Dump “A”                                       36

Camel Lines at Khargeh                                         36

Senussi Prisoners, Dakhla                                      40

The Sergeants’ Reel, Moascar                                   40

The Battalion Mascot                                           42

Battalion Cookhouse, El Ferdan                                 42

Dug-outs in the Front Line, Sheikh Abbas                       54

A Reserve Wadi, Sheikh Abbas                                   54

A Platoon Mess, Wadi Asher                                     58

“C” Company Officers’ Mess, Wadi Asher                         58

Turkish Trench, with dead Turks, Hill 1070, Beersheba          62

Bathing, Regent’s Park                                         62

Battalion Bivouac near Suffa                                  110

The Irish Road crossing the Wadi Ain Arik                     110

The Battalion Football Team                                   140

The Fife and Forfar Imperial Yeomanry at Annsmuir             158

Detachment at H.M. The King’s Visit to Edinburgh              160

Regimental Drill at Annsmuir, with Skeleton Enemy             160

Group showing Six successive Commanding Officers              164

The Cadre on arrival at Kirkcaldy                             164


MAPS

Our Trenches in the Front Line at Suvla                        20

Battle of Sheria                                               68

Operations in Palestine, 1917–1918                            106

Trench System on the Somme                                    134

The Lys Sector                                                142




THE FIFE AND FORFAR YEOMANRY


CHAPTER I

AT HOME—1914–1915


August 4th, 1914, marks the end and also the beginning of two great
epochs in the history of every Territorial Unit. It marked the close
of our peace training and the beginning of thirteen months’ strenuous
war training for the thirty-seven months which we were to spend on
active service abroad.

The Fiery Cross which blazed across the entire Continent caught most
people unawares and unprepared—but not so our headquarters. Our
mobilization papers had already been made out and were despatched
immediately on the outbreak of war. Each one of us was bidden to
report forthwith to his Squadron Headquarters, and while we kicked our
heels there, officers were scouring the country for horses. Soon these
came in of every sort and shape, and in a week’s time the Regiment was
concentrated at Blairgowrie.

The headquarters of the Regiment was at Kirkcaldy, the four Squadrons
A, B, C, and D having their headquarters respectively at Cupar,
Dunfermline, Dundee, and Forfar. The recruiting area comprised the
counties of Fife, Forfar, Kinross, and Clackmannan, and there was also
a troop in Stirlingshire within a few miles of Loch Lomond. The rest
of the Highland Mounted Brigade, to which the Regiment belonged, was
pure Highland, consisting of two regiments of Lovat’s Scouts, the
Inverness Battery, R.H.A., and a T. and S. Column and Field Ambulance
hailing also from Inverness. On changing to War Establishment, D
Squadron dropped out and was divided amongst A, B, and C, with the
exception of Lieut.-Colonel King who went to Remounts, and Captain
Jackson who became Staff Captain on the newly formed Brigade Staff.

The Regiment was fortunate in having about a week at Squadron
Mobilization Centres before uniting at Blairgowrie, and a pretty
hectic week it was for most of us. The most rapid bit of work must
have been that of D Squadron, whose men were distributed amongst the
other squadrons, fully equipped, in about three days. This squadron
was also called upon to provide the various details, such as mounted
police, who were required on mobilization to report to the Highland
Territorial Infantry Division, the famous 51st.

[Illustration: N.C.O.’s AT FAKENHAM, 1915.
_Back Row (left to right)._—Sgts. Edmond, Petrie, Annand, M’Niven.
_Second Row._—Farr.-Sgt. Lindsay, Sgts. Inglis, Gourlay, Farr.-Sgt.
Renton, Sgt. Abbie, Saddler-Sgt. Smith, Sergt. Kirk, F.Q.M.S. Allan,
Sgts. Hood, Walker, Colthart, Haig, Lumsden, Thorp, Dougall, Couper,
Bradfield, Craig. _Third Row._—Sgts. Thornton, Aitken, S.Q.M.S.
Craig, S.S.M. Edie, S.S.M. Ogilvie, Capt. and Adjt. M.E. Lindsay,
R.S.M. R.G. Rapkin, Capt. Jackson, S.S.M. M’Laren, S.S.M. Adams,
S.Q.M.S. W. Birrell, Farr.-Sgt. W. Guthrie, Sgt. J. Wilson. _Front
Row._—Sgts. Scott, Stewart, Gair, Duff, Hair, Adams, Kidd, and
Henderson.
_To face page 2_]

During this first week squadrons had to arrange for their own
billeting, forage, and rations; take over, shoe, brand, and number the
horses as they were sent up in twos and threes by the buyers; mark all
articles of equipment with the man’s regimental number; fit saddlery;
see that all ranks had brought with them and were in possession of the
prescribed underclothing, boots, and necessaries; take on charge all
articles on the Mobilization Store Table as they arrived in odd lots
from Stirling; and, beyond the above duties, which were all according
to regulation, to make unofficial arrangements to beg, borrow, or
steal clothing of sorts to cover those who had enlisted, or
re-enlisted, to complete to War Establishment, and to provide for
deficiencies in the saddlery and clothing already on charge.

The result of all the hard work was that it was practically a complete
unit which came together at Blairgowrie about the 12th of August. Our
Mobilization Orders had been thoroughly thought out and the general
outline made known to all ranks, so that no time was lost in getting a
move on. At Blairgowrie we were billeted in a school, and would have
been very comfortable if we had been older campaigners, in spite of
the fact that our horses were about half a mile away, up a steep hill,
in a field which looked as if it had been especially selected so that
we might trample to pieces a heavy clover crop, and at the same time
be as far as possible from any possible watering place for the
horses. It meant also about as stiff a hill as possible up which to
cart all our forage from the station below. Here our adjutant, Captain
M.E. Lindsay, who knew the whole business of regimental interior
economy from A to Z, started to get things into proper form and to see
that orderly officers, orderly sergeants, and orderly corporals
performed as many of their proper duties as, with their inexperience,
could be fitted into the twenty-four hours. By the end of three days
order was beginning to spring out of chaos, and the adjutant never did
a better bit of work—and that is saying a great deal—than he did in
hunting all and sundry during those first few days.

A depot for recruiting was formed at Kirkcaldy and men quickly swelled
our reinforcements there. After a few days at Blairgowrie, the
Regiment entrained for the Brigade Concentration at Huntingdon; but as
it was found there was insufficient space for a whole brigade, we were
moved to St Ives, about six miles off, where there was a splendid
common for drilling and good billets for the men. Very strenuous
training occupied our two months there, and the expectation of going
abroad at a moment’s notice kept us up to concert pitch. An inspection
by H.M. the King of the whole Brigade on the common at Huntingdon, and
another by Sir Ian Hamilton, helped to confirm our expectations,
and when we suddenly got orders one Sunday at midnight that we were to
move to an unknown destination few doubted that we were bound for
Boulogne.

[Illustration: H.M. THE KING, WITH BRIGADIER-GENERAL LORD LOVAT AND
MAJOR-GENERAL BRUCE HAMILTON.
_To face page 4_]

[Illustration: THE REGIMENT IN COLUMN OF TROOPS AT ST. IVES.
_To face page 4_]

What a bustle we had that Monday. We had built a fine range of stables
on the Market Square, which were completed all except the harness
rooms on the Friday, and on the Saturday all the horses were moved in
except those in the sick lines. We had just received a consignment of
about 100 grass-fed remounts which had been handed over to squadrons
to look after, but not definitely allotted. Consequently when we
received orders to move we had horses in the Market Square, saddlery
about a mile away up the Ramsey Road, and horses in the sick lines
which belonged to no one in particular and had never been fitted with
saddlery at all. In addition, every one had been collecting every
conceivable sort of kit “indispensable for active service,” presents
from kind friends and purchases from plausible haberdashers, with the
result that quite 50 per cent. of our gear had to be left behind or
sent home. To add to our confusion a draft arrived from our second
line to bring us up to War Establishment, and they had to be fitted
out with horses, etc. However, we got off up to time and entrained at
Huntingdon, wondering if it would be three days or a week (at most)
before we were charging Uhlans.

But our destination was only the Lincolnshire coast—Grimsby.
Fortunately thirty-six hours terminated our stay there, and we trekked
off south, eventually halting at Hogsthorpe, a village about three
miles from the coast. The two remaining regiments of the Brigade were
one in Skegness and the other half-way between us and Skegness.

For the next few months we moved from one village to another in the
neighbourhood of Skegness. “We dug miles of trenches along the
coast—we erected barbed wire entanglements for the sea to play
with—we patrolled bleak stretches of coast day and night, and in all
sorts of weather—we watched patiently for spies and Zeppelins, and we
were disappointed. Nothing happened; the Germans would not come.”

Christmas was spent at Skegness, and in spite of alarms and excursions
we had an excellent regimental dinner, very largely due to the
generosity of our friends in Scotland. The ladies of the Regiment
opened subscription lists for “Comforts” for the Regiment, and
everyone who was asked not only gave but gave generously. Wherever we
went our “Comforts” followed us, whatever we asked for we got and,
except on Gallipoli, we were never without our own private stock of
Grant’s or Inglis’ oatmeal. We owe a lot to the generosity of our
friends in Scotland.

[Illustration: CROSSING THE BRIDGE, ST IVES.
_To face page 6_]

[Illustration: LIEUT. R.G.O. HUTCHISON AND MACHINE GUN SECTION, 1915.
_To face page 6_]

From Lincolnshire we moved again south to Norfolk. King’s Lynn was
found to be unsatisfactory as a billeting area, so we trekked on to
Fakenham which proved to be our final resting place in England. By now
our training had so far advanced that we were not kept at it quite so
hard, and we had more time for sports. We had polo, cricket, and all
kinds of games, and on 3rd June mounted sports which were most
successful.

We spent the summer putting on the finishing touches, and did some
very useful bits of training, including some fairly ambitious schemes
of trench digging and planning, which proved invaluable later on, and
which was a branch of knowledge in which many Yeomanries were
conspicuously lacking. Also, by this time, a few courses of
instruction had been started at the larger military centres, and we
had several officers and men trained at these courses in musketry and
other branches who were then able to pass their information on to the
rest of us. We were given an army gymnastic instructor who brushed up
our physical training—on which we had always been very keen—and also
started to put us through a thorough course of bayonet fighting. There
was also a busy time among our machine gunners, who trained spare
teams up to nearly three times our establishment, which was
invaluable, as it enabled us to take advantage of the chance which
came to us of going abroad with six machine guns per regiment instead
of three. As our usual role on Gallipoli was to take over with three
squadrons, whose effective strength was never more than 100 each at
the most, and generally considerably less, from four companies of
infantry, each numbering anything from 150 to 180 strong, these extra
machine guns were worth their weight in gold.

By this time a good many were thoroughly “fed up” with so long a spell
of home service, fearing that the war would be over before we got out
at all. And it was not till nearly the end of August that we got
definite news that at last we were to receive the reward of all our
hard training and see service overseas. We were inspected and
addressed by General Sir H. Smith-Dorrien. Our horses, that had done
us so well on many a strenuous field day, that knew cavalry drill
better than some of us, that had taken part in our famous charge with
fixed bayonets on the common at St Ives, were taken from us and sent,
some to our second line and some to remount depots. In return for a
horse we were each given a heavy cavalry sword, presumably to prevent
us being confused with mere infantry.

On 5th September we said good-bye to our friends in Fakenham and
started off on our journey for an unknown destination but—business.

[Illustration: GUARD MOUNTING, FAKENHAM.
_To face page 8_]

[Illustration: ENTRAINING HORSES, FAKENHAM.
_To face page 8_]




CHAPTER II

ABROAD—1915


The last few days at Fakenham were busy ones, chiefly owing to the
floods of new equipment which were at last showered upon us. Two
squadrons got a complete issue of new saddlery, harness, and vehicles,
which meant, in the first place, handing over the old issues to
representatives of the second line, and in the second place,
assembling all the new saddlery (which was issued in small pieces) and
packing it into sacks ready for the voyage. The rest of the saddlery
was put on board without being unpacked. Then our complement of
machine guns was increased from two to six per regiment, which meant
taking from each squadron 1 officer and 20 men to form the new
personnel, and replacing them in the squadrons with men from the
second line. By this arrangement we lost also our adjutant, Captain
M.E. Lindsay, who was made Brigade Machine Gun Officer. Lieutenant
H.S. Sharp took Captain Lindsay’s place as adjutant. All ranks were
fitted with helmets (on which pugarees had to be fixed under the eye
of the few old soldiers who had been abroad and knew how to do it),
and also with a complete outfit of khaki drill clothing. This last
caused no end of trouble and annoyance both to the tailors and the
men. However, it was all finished somehow, and it was a very cheery
party which embarked on the train at Fakenham station just after dusk.
The entire population turned out to see us off and wish us luck, and
gave us a very hearty send-off.

Next morning we found ourselves at Devonport, where we were to embark
on H.M.T. _Andania_ (Captain Melsom), a second-class Cunard Atlantic
Liner, and set to at once to load our baggage in the holds. Speed
seemed to be the main concern, the safety of the cargo being quite a
secondary consideration. The Brigade arrived in some dozen or more
trains, each carrying what corresponded to a squadron, its baggage,
which consisted of all sorts of heavy cases and things more or less
breakable such as personal baggage, and saddlery in sacks, and also
motor bicycles and vehicles. Each train was unloaded as it arrived and
its contents thrown holus-bolus into one of the holds, except for the
wheeled vehicles. The result was that there were layers of saddles at
the very bottom of the hold, and further layers at intervals up to the
top sandwiched between ammunition and heavy cases of all kinds.
Fortunately we were never asked to unpack the saddlery.

On Wednesday, 8th September, about 5 A.M., we left the harbour
escorted by two destroyers who took us to abreast Cape Ushant and
there left us.

The first day or two on board was regular pandemonium and most
uncomfortable for the men. Four officers and 140 other ranks from the
second line had joined us at Devonport and we were very overcrowded.
Each man had a stuffy and inaccessible bunk and a place at a table in
the steerage saloon for meals, which had to be served in three relays
owing to the numbers on board. This meant either very perfect time
keeping or very perfect chaos, and, needless to say, for the first few
days it was the latter. The captain also had a habit of always having
his alarm boat drills while some relay was feeding, which did not add
to the harmony. After a few days, however, things went very much more
smoothly, but at no time could it be called a comfortable voyage. For
the officers it was very different. They were not too overcrowded and
were fed like fighting cocks. The deck accommodation was, of course,
ridiculously inadequate, and muster parades, boat drill, and physical
drill in relays was all that could be managed. We also had lectures on
flies, sanitation, and how to behave when we got to Constantinople.

We steered a very roundabout course to avoid submarines and came into
the Straits of Gibraltar from the south-west keeping well south of
the Rock. We hugged the north coast of Africa, and passed a Greek
tramp who signalled to us to stop as a large enemy submarine was ten
miles east of us. As such ships had been used before as decoys for
German submarines, we gave her a wide berth and informed Gibraltar who
were to send out a destroyer to have a look at her. We reached Malta
on 14th September, but we were too late to get into Valetta Harbour,
so we anchored in St Paul’s Bay for the night and got into Valetta
Harbour early next morning. For most of us it was our first glimpse of
the Near East, and no one could deny the beauty of the scene—the
harbour full of craft of all sorts down to the tiny native skiff, and
crowned by the old Castle of St Angelo, the picturesque town, the palm
trees, and the motley crowd of natives swimming and diving, and
hawking fruit and cigarettes from their boats. Some of us got ashore
to see the historical old town, full of memories of the Templars—St
John’s Cathedral, the Governor’s Palace, the Armoury—but most had to
stay on board to bargain and argue with the native vendors. We slipped
out of the harbour at dusk, showing no lights, but to show we were not
downhearted, Lovat’s entire pipe band started to play. But not for
long; as the captain threatened to put them all in irons, which
brought the concert to an abrupt conclusion.

We reached Alexandria on the morning of the 18th, and the first stage
of our trip was over—to everyone’s regret. We had had a lovely
voyage, a calm sea and perfect weather, and only the most persevering
had managed to get seasick. Those of us who had still lingering hopes
of seeing horses at Alexandria were speedily disillusioned, as we were
ordered promptly to unload all our saddlery and transport vehicles.
This was done with just as much organisation and care as the loading.
The following morning we all went a route march for a couple of hours
through the town. Perhaps the intention was to squash any desire we
might have had to linger on in Alexandria. All the same some bits
undoubtedly stank less than others.

Meanwhile stacks of infantry web equipment had come aboard, and
fortunately for us about forty infantry officers who were able to show
us how to put it together. That kept us busy for the next few days.

A cruiser met us in the Grecian Archipelago and conducted us safely
into Mudros Harbour on 23rd September. It had got very much colder as
we got farther north, and the day before we made Mudros it was
absolutely arctic, which was lucky indeed as it made us all take on to
the Peninsula much warmer clothes than we would otherwise have done.
Mudros Harbour was a great sight—British and French battleships,
hospital ships, transports, colliers, and all sorts of cargo ships
down to the little native sailing boats, and the steam cutters which
tore up and down all day looking very busy. The island itself looked
very uninviting, stony, barren, and inhospitable, and a route march
only confirmed our opinions—the race ashore in the ship’s boats,
however, compensated us—and nearly drowned us.

Our ration strength at Mudros was 32 officers and 617 other ranks, but
of these 9 officers and 63 other ranks remained behind as first
reinforcements when the Regiment went on the Peninsula. Each squadron
went forward 4 officers and 136 other ranks. When we returned to
Mudros three months later our effective strength was 8 officers and
125 other ranks.

On 26th September the Regiment filed down the gangways of the
_Andania_ on to the _Abassiyeh_ and landed that night on Gallipoli.
From the _Abassiyeh_ we were transhipped into a “beetle” packed like
sardines and loaded like a Christmas-tree. These lighters being
flat-bottomed could run ashore on the sand and land troops dry-shod.
The gangway was very steep and slippery and the men were so
overloaded, each carrying a bundle of firewood as well as full
equipment, and a pick and a shovel, that nearly everyone, like William
the Conqueror, bit the dust on landing. Otherwise, we had an
unmolested landing and started off for our billets in some reserve
trenches about a mile and a half away.

Here our difficulties began with daylight, as we were in full view of
the Turkish positions and within easy range of their guns, with the
result we were not allowed to move about outside the trenches during
the day. Water had to be fetched by hand about a mile and then had to
be boiled, and we had not, like those who had been on the Peninsula a
few weeks, collected a stock of petrol and biscuit tins for storage.
Later on we even got water-carts filled with water brought from Mudros
or Egypt, but not for at least six weeks, and meantime everything had
to be carried and stored in petrol tins, rum jars, and such few
biscuit tins as were water-tight. The wells were so congested, and the
water so scarce that water-bottles were not allowed at the wells, and
all we could do was to keep them in the cookhouse, ready to be filled
and issued as the water was boiled. Apart from the November blizzard
our first week in the reserve trenches, until we got our water supply
in working order, was the most uncomfortable of our stay. Rations were
really wonderfully plentiful and good.

That night we were ordered forward to complete the digging of a new
reserve area. Just as we were falling in to move off, a regular strafe
started in the front line only just over a mile away, but luckily it
stopped just before we were to move off. It was our first experience
of being under fire, and for all we knew it might have been the sort
of thing that happened every night, so we just carried on as if
nothing unusual were happening. Familiarity may breed contempt in most
cases, but bullets singing about four feet above one’s head is one of
the exceptions, and Heaven knows we had plenty of experience of
“overs” on the Peninsula. They are undoubtedly a fine incentive to
work however, and once on the ground the men dug like beavers—and
they _could_ dig—and by dawn at 4 A.M. we had a continuous though
somewhat narrow trench. The soil, for the most part, was clay, and it
was tough work digging, but once dug the trenches stood up well.

After a day or two we began to be sent up to the front line for
instruction, 30 men per squadron at a time, the remainder digging
trenches and going down singly to the beach for a bathe. That was the
one thing for which Gallipoli was perfect. The beach was rather far
away, perhaps two miles, but we were all glad of the exercise, and the
bathing was glorious—the water beautifully warm and so refreshing.

As regards the lie of the land and our positions there—coming up from
the beach at Suvla there were fully two miles of flat country before
you reached the foothills. The northern part of this plain was a
shallow lake dry in summer but with a few feet of brackish water in
winter called Salt Lake, and the southern part a few feet higher
stretched down to “Anzac,” where spurs running down from Sari Bahr to
the sea terminate it abruptly. Our front line, generally speaking, was
just off the plain, a few hundred yards up the slopes of the
foothills, with any reserves there were lying in trenches on the
plain.

Imagining the whole Suvla plain and its surrounding hills to be a
horse-shoe, you might say the Turks held round three parts of the
shoe, leaving us with the two heels at Caracol Dagh on the north and
Anzac on the south, and a line between these two points across the
plain. This plain was practically bare, but Caracol Dagh was thickly
covered with dwarf oak and scrub, and Anzac with a good undergrowth of
rhododendron, veronica, and other similar bushes. At Sulajik (the
centre of the horse-shoe), and immediately to the north of it, and
also round the villages in the Turkish lines, were numbers of fine
trees, but nowhere that we could see was there anything that could be
called a wood. As regards the soil, the gullies at Anzac on the spurs
of Sari Bahr were quite bewildering in their heaped up confusion,
partly rocky, but mainly a sort of red clay and very steep. In the
centre it was a yellower clay with patches of sand and bog, and on
Caracol Dagh it was all rock and stones, so that digging was
impossible, and all defences were built either with stones or
sandbags. The view looking back to the sea from almost any part of our
line was glorious. Hospital ships and men-of-war, and generally
monitors and troop-ships in the Bay, and on the horizon the peaks of
Imbros and Samothrace reflecting the glorious sunrises and sunsets of
the Levant.

In these surroundings we spent about a week before getting a turn in
the front line. We struck a reasonably quiet sector and fairly well
dug, but there were several details in which the trenches varied from
what we were accustomed to read about. The first and most noticeable
difference from the point of view of the inhabitants was the entire
absence of head cover. Even after we had been on the Peninsula nearly
three months all we had collected were one or two poles, a sheet of
corrugated iron (ear-marked as a roof for a signal station), and a few
yards of wire-netting. There was not a house or a building of course
in the country-side, and as our neighbours were as badly off as we
were, there was no scope for the enterprising.

Our first turn only lasted four days, and we had hardly a casualty
until an hour or two before we were to move back into support. The
support trenches were very much less comfortable than the front line,
and as there were lots of parties to go up at all hours of the day and
night to dig and wire in front, it took a lot of scheming to get
everyone satisfactorily fixed with water and food. We also had to send
out officers’ patrols to fix the Turkish line, as we were intending to
have a dash at capturing his barrier across the Azmac Dere—a dry
watercourse which ran right through both the Turkish and our
lines—and so straighten out our line. Patrolling was very
difficult—there were no landmarks to guide one, the going was
exceedingly prickly, and at that time the place was full of Turkish
snipers, who came out at dusk and lay out till morning in the broken
and shell-pitted country. We soon got the better of these sportsmen
though—our snipers out-sniped them, and our bombing officer, if he
frightened them with his catapults and other engines of offence half
as much as he frightened us, must also be given credit for a share in
dispersing them.

[Illustration: GEBEL-EL-GHENNEIM, KHARGEH OASIS.
_To face page 18_]

[Illustration: THE HIGHLAND BARRICADE, ASMAK DERE, SUVLA.
_To face page 18_]

A squadron (Major de Pree) and the bombing squad under Mr A.C. Smith,
in conjunction with a squadron of 2nd Lovat Scouts, carried out the
raid on the Dere on the night of the 17th/18th October. It was a
complete success—all the Turks holding the barrier being killed by
the bombing party, and about sixty or seventy yards of new trench
being dug the same night. This little exploit was the subject of
congratulations from both the Divisional and Corps Commanders,
Major-General W. Peyton and Major-General Sir Julian Byng. Mr Smith
got the M.C., and Lance-Sergeant J. Valentine and Private W. Roger
the D.C.M. for that night’s work.

The Brigade was then due for relief, but we wanted to finish the job
of straightening the line before we went, so we stayed on to the end
of the month, by which time the work was practically complete. During
this time we had the joy of receiving some letters and parcels, and
even a very limited supply of canteen stores. People at home hardly
realised as yet where we were, the conditions under which we were
living, and the time it took for parcels to arrive. One officer
received three parcels—the first containing his keys which he had
left on his dressing-table at home, the second, some sort of
collapsible boot-tree, and the third, about a three years’ supply of
Euxesis shaving cream. Many a good cake too had to be hurriedly
removed and buried deep in the refuse pit. All the same, parcels were
a great joy to receive, and provided many an excellent tit-bit for
supper. Many, unfortunately, went missing—especially if they had the
labels of Fortnum & Mason, John Dewar, or Johnnie Walker. We sometimes
wondered if they were timid and preferred the comforts of the beach to
the hazards of the trenches.

The canteen arrangements could hardly be called a success either.
Occasionally a few supplies trickled through to us, and once an
expedition to Imbros was arranged to purchase stores at the local
markets. Eggs, fruit, biscuits, oatmeal, chocolate, etc., were ordered
by the hundredweight, and an officer sent to make the purchases. He
returned to tell us the expedition had fallen short of complete
success. His share of the plunder for the Regiment had been one packet
of chocolate which he had eaten.

[Illustration: OUR TRENCHES IN THE FRONT LINE AT SUVLA
Emery Walker Ltd. sc
_To face page 20_]

We had now completed our turn in the line, and were relieved by the
158th Brigade, and went back to our old place in reserve which we
found very filthy. How we wished there were Dr Tukes in every regiment
and battalion. He had so inculcated everyone of us—officers and men
alike—with the vital necessity of cleanliness and the deplorable
habits and peregrinations of the household fly, that we sometimes
wondered if we were scavengers or soldiers. Though we lay no claims to
perfection—or anything like it—few trenches were cleaner than ours
were, and right to the very end of the war we never left a trench or
billet without it being cleaner and more “lime and creosol”-ated than
when we entered it.

The water arrangements had also been revolutionised, and we actually
had cookers and water-carts in the lines, but the greatest joy of all
was to go bathing again. The weather was not nearly so hot, and the
flies which had tortured us in their myriads during the hot weather
were now nothing like so numerous, which made it possible to enjoy
what food we had.

Rumour as to our future movements meantime was rife. Lord Kitchener
had come and gone, and all sorts of stories came from the beach. It
was not till 26th November that we knew definitely that evacuation had
been decided on, and that we had to make arrangements to get rid of
all surplus kit and all our “lame ducks.”

Meantime, we were busy improving our trenches and digging South Lane
and Peyton Avenue communication trenches, and generally making
ourselves more comfortable.

On 26th November we got orders to pack all surplus stores which were
dumped, along with officers’ valises, ready to be taken off that night
by the Sikh muleteers. We parted with great reluctance from our
tarpaulins and cart covers which provided the only shelters we had,
but that night even they would have been of little use. At five
o’clock the downpour started, accompanied by thunder and lightning,
such as you only can see in the tropics. Thunder-clap merged into
thunder-clap, each one noisier than the last—sheet lightning lit up
the sky, north, south, and east at the same time—and the rain came
down in torrents. It was a wonderful and awful sight. Trenches and
dug-outs were quite uninhabitable and a foot deep in water.
Fortunately by this time it was dark, so we climbed out of the
trenches and prepared to spend the night on the top, where the water
was only lying in places. Then came down the water from the hills. The
Azmac Dere came down in spate, washing away the Turkish and the
Highland barricades, carrying horses, mules, and men, dead and alive,
down with it. Peyton Avenue and South Lane were culs-de-sac and soon
filled, and the overflow flooded our trenches. The 2nd Lovat Scouts
were completely washed out, and had to retire and dig in down near the
beach. By this time the rain had stopped, and by next morning we saw
the water subsiding gradually. Fortunately it was a misty morning, and
we could wander about on top, though we did have one or two shrapnel
bursts over us. We then discovered that our valises and stores were
still floating in the water-cart emplacement—the Sikhs having turned
tail when the storm broke. It was six weeks later when we opened our
valises.

We had hoped the relief would have been cancelled, but not so, and at
5 P.M. we started off for the front line. The Turks evidently
anticipated something of the sort, and their rifle fire soon forced us
to take to the communication trenches. North Lane was not too bad.
There was 18 inches of water, but the bottom was gravelly and the
going not too bad. Where this trench struck the old support line we
found guides awaiting us who took us past Willow Tree Well through
the most awful trenches-too narrow for a heavily ladened man, greasy
and slippery, and full of holes which took us up to the waist in
water. Some idea of the going may be gathered from the fact that the
journey of less than two miles took upwards of five hours to
accomplish. And then our troubles weren’t over. The firebays we found
crammed with the infantry we were relieving—a helpless, hopeless
mob—and it wasn’t till midnight that we had the place to ourselves.

A Squadron (Major de Pree) held from the Azmac Dere to Fort Conan, and
B Squadron (Major J. Younger) from Fort Conan to the old road leading
to Anafarta, C Squadron lying in support. We could only man every
second or third bay lightly, and our left flank was in the air—the
159th Brigade on our left, being about 120 yards away. Lovats were in,
and to the south of, the Dere.

Movement in the trenches to promote circulation was impossible—one
was exhausted long before one felt any life in one’s limbs, and to add
to our troubles snow fell during the night, and it turned bitterly
cold. Next day was even more bitterly cold with snow and rain, and a
lot of men had to go down the line sick with trench feet and
exhaustion, many of them suffering from jaundice and diarrhoea as
well. The area was again very heavily shelled with shrapnel, and we
suffered a few casualties. By night time everything was covered with
snow, but what really put the lid on was a sudden blizzard about 2
A.M. with ever so many degrees of frost. Everything one had on was of
course soaking wet and covered with mud, and this was now frozen stiff
by the frost. Most of the rifles were out of action, and even the
water in the machine guns froze. However, daylight put new heart in
us, and we made good progress in improving the trenches, getting
rifles once more in working order, and generally tidying up and making
things as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. That night
about six or eight Turks crawled up the sunken road on our extreme
left flank and caused quite an excitement, but finding the trenches
still manned retired hastily. Unfortunately the message that they had
retired miscarried, and headquarters stood to impatiently for about an
hour.

Gradually the weather improved and the sun came out, and we managed to
drain off more and more of the water from the communication trenches.
But the damage had already been done—the wet followed by the cold and
intense frost brought on trench fever in an acute and terrible form.
One poor fellow had died of exhaustion and 142 left the Regiment in
two days, some few never to recover and others to be maimed for life.

In the week following the storm 7 officers, including Major Younger
and Captain Tuke, R.A.M.C., and 221 other ranks were admitted to
hospital through sickness. Owing to the washing away of the Highland
barricade, three men, bringing water up the Azmac Dere, foolishly
missed our trenches and wandered into the Turkish lines.

By this time our numbers were so reduced that C Squadron was brought
up from the support line and divided between A Squadron (Major de
Pree) and B Squadron (Captain D.D. Ogilvie). A troop of Lovats and a
section of machine gunners were in support to us. Later we were all
amalgamated into one squadron under Major de Pree, 8 officers and 103
other ranks, the entire strength of the Regiment, including
headquarters, being only 13 officers and 190 other ranks.

From the beginning of December we began gradually to send off parties
of men to Mudros with surplus kit and stores. On 9th December we were
relieved by the 2nd Scottish Horse and moved back into the support
trenches, from which we sent a party back to the front line who
reported very little firing from the Turks but that they seemed to be
suffering from bad colds. Embarkation orders by Major-General W.R.
Marshall were read to all ranks and we prepared to go. Three officers
and 27 other ranks took over part of 1st Lovats’ line and formed our
rear-guard, and at six o’clock on the evening of 19th December the
Regiment paraded for the last time on Gallipoli and marched to C
Beach, via Peyton Avenue and Anzac Road. The perfect weather of the
last three or four days still held; a full moon slightly obscured by
mist, a calm sea and no shelling made the evacuation a complete
success. The remains of the Regiment embarked on the _Snaefels_ and
sailed for Imbros, where they were joined by Captain D.D. Ogilvie, who
had been acting M.L.O. for the evacuation and left by the last
lighter. A four-mile march to camp and a hot meal, and our troubles
were over.

The complete success of the evacuation caused quite a stir at home.
From Suvla alone 44,000 men, 90 guns of all calibre, including one
anti-aircraft gun, 3000 mules, 400 horses, 30 donkeys, 1800 carts, and
4000 to 5000 cartloads of stores had to be embarked—and only by night
too, as of course the beaches and bay were visible by day from the
Turkish lines. To deceive the Turks, men were actually embarked by
night and disembarked by daylight to represent reinforcements, and the
Sikh muleteers drove furiously all day chiefly to make the dust fly.
On the last night about 12,000 men were embarked from A and C beaches,
and everything had been so well managed that there was never a hitch
of any kind. Needless to say each party arrived at the point where the
M.L.O. were to meet them well up to time and were conducted straight
on to the “beetles.”

We were, of course, exceedingly lucky in the weather and in the lack
of initiative on the part of the Turks. The Higher Command counted on
50 per cent, casualties but actually, on the last night, only two men
were wounded on the way down to the beach—8 old guns, rendered
useless, were left behind at Anzac, 250 cases of Sunlight soap, a few
Indian carts minus their wheels, and one or two hospital tents were
left as a present for “Johnnie,” and that was about all. The A.S.C.
set fire to everything they could not take away, and a fine bonfire it
made. The morning we left the wind rose, the sea became choppy, the
Turks attacked in great style, bombarding the beaches very heavily,
smashing the piers and nearly wiping Lala Baba off the map.

On 23rd December we left our camp and tried to board the _Prince
Abbas_, but the storm was too strong and we had to land again.
However, we got off next day, reached Mudros Harbour, and changed on
to the _Scotian_ on Christmas Day. None of us will forget the kindness
with which we were received on the _Scotian_, and the arrival of a
huge mail _and_ plum puddings completed our joy. We left on Boxing Day
and got to Alexandria on the 28th, where we at once disembarked and
went to camp at Sidi Bishr.

Of the 32 officers and 617 other ranks who sailed from Alexandria on
the 20th September, 8 officers and 107 other ranks returned on 28th
December—each squadron on 20th September was 6 officers and 136 other
ranks strong, the composite squadron on 28th December was 4 officers
and 61 other ranks. On 9th December the strength of the Highland
Mounted Brigade was 39 officers and 854 other ranks—the 2nd Mounted
Division only 2200 all ranks.

In addition to the C.O., Lieut.-Colonel A. Mitchell, we had lost
through sickness alone two squadron leaders (Majors J. Younger and
R.S. Nairn), the Adjutant (Lieutenant H.S. Sharp) and his successor
(Captain G.E.B. Osborne), the Quartermaster (Lieutenant W. Ricketts),
and the M.O. (Captain Tuke, R.A.M.C.), the R.Q.M.S. and all the
S.S.M., and S.Q.M.S., in all 18 officers and 339 other ranks. The
Brigade was commanded by Lieut.-Colonel A. Stirling of Lovat’s Scouts,
Lord Lovat having left through sickness; the Regiment by Major J.
Gilmour. Fortunately a good many of these, after a brief stay in
hospital in Egypt or at Malta, were able to rejoin us later on.




CHAPTER III

EGYPT—1916


From a military point of view 1916 can be summed up as far as we were
concerned in two words—nothing doing. It was certainly for us the
most peaceful and uneventful year. New Year saw us resting and
refitting at Sidi Bishr—bathing in the Mediterranean and sightseeing
in Alexandria. After a few days we moved to Mena Camp, under the
shadow of the Pyramids, and at the end of the tram line to Cairo.
Apart from the fact that we had two regiments of Lovat’s Scouts on one
side, and three regiments of Scottish Horse on the other, and every
man was either playing the pipes or practising on the chanter from
early morn to dewy eve, we had a peaceful time there for about five
weeks, watching our numbers gradually increase as men returned from
hospital, and wondering whether we were ever to be mounted again. That
rumour soon, however, got its quietus, as we were told we were to link
up with the South-Western Mounted Brigade (North Devon Hussars, Royal
1st Devon Yeomanry, and West Somerset Yeomanry under Brig.-General R.
Hoare), and form a dismounted Yeomanry Brigade of six regiments.

On 12th February we removed up the Nile to Minia—a dusty, dirty,
horrible place. Two expeditions of 2 officers and 43 other ranks and 3
officers and 40 other ranks set out from there—one to guard bridges
at Nazlet el Abid and the other to demonstrate along with Lovat’s
Scouts at Assiut. Minia is one of the wealthiest towns in Upper Egypt,
and it was thought probable that the Senussi might attempt to raid
Minia or Assiut, with a view to plundering the banks and giving a
start to any disaffection among the fellahin.

On 5th March we moved again farther south to Sohag, and a squadron
carried on to Kilo 145 on the Sherika line to take up an outpost line.
Camel patrols were also sent out into the desert. We had a scheme or
two in the desert and a fire in the M.G. tent, at which the local fire
brigade greatly distinguished itself by its masterly inactivity and
futile energy. To the strains of “Kam lêyâl, Kam iyyâm” at the far end
of a leaking hosepipe, the fire eventually burned itself out. We only
had two fires the whole time we were in Egypt, which was very
creditable considering the inflammable nature of our “houses,” and on
both occasions our enterprising quartermaster made full use of the
distressing occurrence.

We had two very excellent days of sports at Sohag against the
Australian Light Horse and in the Brigade, our most popular win
perhaps being in the tug-of-war. Another sporting event took place
here—a racing camel, ridden by its Bedouin owner, was backed to beat
any one of our officers’ horses over a six-mile course, of which the
first half lay along the canal bank, the last half over the desert
which was pretty heavy going. After the first mile and a half the
camel was leading by some 600 yards. After three miles the camel was
leading by about 200 yards and rolling heavily, whereas “Charlie” and
his horse were cantering steadily and easily. The latter continued to
gain and passed the camel about the four miles, and won comfortably at
a fast trot. In forcing the pace along the canal bank the Bedouin
undoubtedly burst his camel.

We received a most unpleasant welcome at Gara on the night of 13th
April. A severe sandstorm got up at night, and in the morning we had
hardly a tent standing. Gara didn’t like us. When we returned there in
November we were washed out by a cloud-burst—a thing which hadn’t
happened there since the Flood.

On the 16th of April we went to Sherika, and there we remained till
15th November. We became a small detached force—the Kharga Oasis
Detachment under Lieut.-Colonel Angus MacNeil, 2nd L.S. Yeomanry,
consisting of the Highland Mounted Brigade, a squadron of Egyptian
Lancers, and a company of the I.C.C. Later on three 15–pounders were
sent us, a company of R.E., a battery of Sikh Mountain Gunners,
R.F.C., at Meherique, and later at Sherika about 1000 baggage camels
and 2000 E.L.C. We also had an A.S.C. Bakery Section and our own
slaughter-house, and towards the end of our stay at Sherika another
company of I.C.C. joined us.

Our oasis which looked so green on the map, we found to be a deep
depression of about 1200 feet, cut out of the central limestone
plateau. On the north and east the drop was almost precipitous, and it
was really a wonderful engineering feat to get a railway down it at
all—only accomplished by means of unusually steep gradients and sharp
curves.

The floor of the oasis is, for the most part, just as bare and
desolate as the plateau above, but here and there are patches of green
round the Artesian wells, which were the only sources of water. Except
for the surroundings of the village of Khargeh itself, where there are
a number of splendid wells, a small shallow brackish lake, and
considerable date and fruit groves, no watered patch in the northern
half of the oasis is more than half a mile long and a few hundred
yards wide. The usual patch round a well would include a few
date-palms, perhaps an apricot tree, and an acre or two of Bersim, the
clover of the country, and a kind of Lucerne.

The groves of Khargeh produce great quantities of excellent dates, and
a considerable trade is done with the Nile Valley in rush matting,
made chiefly in the southern portion of the oasis, at Boulak and
Beris.

Points of interest were the half-buried and utterly filthy village of
Khargeh, the Persian Temple near Railhead in a very fair state of
preservation, and the Roman Fort near Meherique. This was still
remarkably intact—a large square with bastions at the four corners,
and built of mammoth bricks—about 60 feet high, with walls 12 feet
broad even at the top.

The only notable natural feature was Gebel-el-Ghenneiem, which was
just a portion of the original limestone plateau left standing. Its
slopes were full of various sorts of fossils—sea-urchins and the
like—so that evidently the sea had been there at one time. From its
flat top one had a wonderful panorama of the desert.

War, with a No-Man’s-Land of eighty miles and a very doubtful enemy at
the far end, is war at its very best—even though we did have only
marmalade and nothing but marmalade. But no war is without its
horrors—these came about once a month in the shape of inspecting
generals, who ordered us to raze our defences and build fresh and
proper ones—not a bad game in sand, where you do anyhow see some
result for your labours.

[Illustration: IN THE VILLAGE OF KHARGEH.
_To face page 34_]

[Illustration: CAPTAIN TUKE ON “JOSEPH.”
_To face page 34_]

Every other week a squadron would go off to either Kilo 145, at the
top of the Scarp, Meherique, the only place the engines could water,
or Kharga (Railhead), and latterly to Water Dump A, to take over the
outpost there with the I.C.C., or a troop of Gyppy Cavalry. Life there
was not quite so pleasant on account of the mosquitoes (which, thanks
to Dr Tuke, we had exterminated at Sherika), and the sand hill which
formed the key to the situation at Kharga had a nasty habit of moving
on and leaving our wire entanglements buried up to the neck. We owe a
great debt of gratitude to Dr Tuke and his sanitary squad for the
comfort and health of the Regiment at Sherika. At all hours of the day
the doctor and his faithful mule waged war on the mosquito and the
Gyppy sanitary squad indiscriminately, and with complete success. Fly
and fellah, mosquito and reis—all fled at his approach, or buried
themselves in the sand.

After the departure of Lovat’s Scouts for Alexandria, whence they
emerged as 10th Camerons, and proceeded to Salonika, the West Somerset
Yeomanry joined us, and on 1st August two detachments from the North
Devon Hussars and the Royal 1st Devon Yeomanry were attached to us.

The half section of guns—old Nordenfeldts—had arrived without a
crew, but a couple of officers and one or two N.C.O.’s and men who
had once been Territorial gunners took the matter in hand with great
alacrity. Mobility was their chief trouble. Camel harness was
produced—they were taken out a couple of days before a field-firing
practice, and the targets were adjusted till the guns could hit them
every time, and really when the inspecting general arrived they gave a
most creditable performance.

We also had a mounted troop, under Lieutenant W. Gray, mounted mainly
on mules for the longer patrols, and a Light Car Patrol (Lieutenant
A.S. Lindsay) consisting of 2 officers, 45 other ranks, and seven Ford
cars, fitted with Lewis guns, and one armoured car, which went out
with the camelry. Lieutenant M‘Dougal’s bombing school and the rifle
range combined instruction with amusement.

The heat during the day was very trying-as much as 120° F. being
recorded in the shade—but we only worked from reveille (5.30) to
breakfast, and in the afternoon from 4.30 to 6. Polo and an occasional
jackal hunt, cricket and football, and all kinds of foot sports kept
us fit, but the most enjoyable time of all was in the swimming-baths.
When we first went there, there was only a small swimming-bath built
for the officials of the Western Oasis Corporation, which was reserved
for officers and for sergeants twice a week. However, with the help of
the Engineers, we built a beautiful swimming-bath, 26 yards long,
which was formally opened by Lieut.-Colonel A. M’Neil, O.C. troops, at
a swimming gymkhana on 6th August.

[Illustration: SENTRY ON WATER DUMP “A.”
_To face page 36_]

[Illustration: CAMEL LINES AT KHARGEH.
_To face page 36_]

Although we had abundant water at Sherika and Kharga, it had to be
bored for. There was a river about 400 to 600 feet below ground, and
the water came up quite warm—about 85° F. The problem was how to
provide water for the 100–mile advance across the desert to Dakhla.
For this purpose the R.E. started boring at Water Dump A, about
twenty-five miles from Sherika, and were so far successful that, at
the finish of the Dakhla expedition, they were obtaining sufficient
water to work the bore. By that time also the light railway had
advanced to within a few miles of Water Dump A.

The campaign was brought to an abrupt termination through the overzeal
of O.C. Light Car Patrol, who patrolled right up to Senussi outpost at
the entrance to the Dakhla Oasis. At the sight of Mr Lindsay and his
car the Senussi general fled, and when the I.C.C., after a very fine
march, got into Dakhla, all they got were 197 miserable, underfed,
diseased prisoners. Four officers and 100 other ranks from C Squadron
(Captain D.D. Ogilvie), and 2 officers and 30 other ranks from the
M.G.C. (Mr D. Marshall) set off on 25th October to relieve the I.C.C.
It was a trying march. Cars dumped fanatis with water for the midday
meal, twelve miles on and more for the evening meal, and breakfast
seven miles beyond that. The second day out was a scorcher, blazing
hot and no wind, over rough stony going for the most part, and Hell’s
Gate wasn’t reached till 7 P.M., after a very exhausting march. The
total march was seventy-six miles to Tenida, and of the 136 only 7
failed to finish which, considering the circumstances, was very
creditable. No sooner were we there than orders were received to
return again. This time, however, we went in cars as far as Water Dump
A, and there we commandeered a convoy of camels returning with empty
fanatis, and we finished our trek mounted. Great credit is due to the
Light Car Patrol and to the Ford cars which really were wonderful.
Neither sand up to the axle, nor dropping down over rocks stopped
them—they made a road for themselves as they went along, and always
seemed to get there.

That finished our 1916 campaign against the Senussi—the I.C.C. were
relieved by a London Yeomanry Company of the I.C.C, and later on some
Gyppy Cavalry went out and garrisoned Dakhla Oasis.

On 13th November the Regiment started in relays by train for Gara.
There we received orders to start infantry training, as we were to be
converted into a battalion of infantry. Till then we had always done
dismounted cavalry drill. We now started hammer and tongs at infantry
drill, instructed by an officer and two N.C.O.’s from a neighbouring
garrison battalion. We were all looking forward to becoming pukka
infantry, as we had long realised that in our eccentric form as
dismounted yeomanry we should only be given the odd jobs.

We had just got our camp tidy when the water-spout burst, and not only
washed out our lines and those of the Ayrshire and Lanarkshire
Yeomanries, but also demolished the fine earth church which the
Anglican Padre had had built.

On 1st December we arrived at Moascar, a large camp on the Sweetwater
Canal near Ismailia, and there our infantry training started in
earnest. We ate our Christmas dinner there, and on Boxing Day had
Brigade sports. There was very fair bathing in Lake Timsah, and we all
enjoyed getting a sight of the Suez Canal, and being once more in
comparative comfort and civilization.




OFFICERS

C.O.                 Lieut.-Colonel J. GILMOUR

2nd in Command       Major J. YOUNGER

A Squadron           Major C. G DE PREE and
                     Capt. R.W. STEWART

B Squadron           Major G.E.B. OSBORNE

C Squadron           Capt. D.D. OGILVIE

Adjutant             Lieut. H.S. SHARP

Q.-M.                Lieut. R.H. COLTHART

M.O.                 Capt. A. TUKE, R.A.M.C.(T.)


[Illustration: SENUSSI PRISONERS, DAKHLA.
_To face page 40_]

[Illustration: THE SERGEANTS’ REEL, MOASCAR.
_To face page 40_]




CHAPTER IV

EGYPT AND PALESTINE—1917


New Year’s Day saw the Regiment at Moascar Camp, Ismailia, and it was
there that the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry were interred “for the
duration,” giving birth at the same time to a sturdy son—the 14th
(Fife and Forfar Yeomanry) Battalion, Royal Highlanders. We were all
very sorry to see the demise of the Yeomanry and to close, though only
temporarily, the records of a Regiment which had had an honourable
career, and of which we were all so proud. At the same time we
realised that, in our capacity as dismounted yeomanry, we were not
pulling our weight either as yeomanry or infantry, and no other
regiment certainly appealed to us as much as our own Territorial
Infantry Regiment, and we were proud to link our record to the long
and glorious record of the Black Watch.

We spent five weeks altogether at Moascar, working hard at the
elementary forms of infantry drill and tactics, and on 8th January we
marched to our new camp El Ferdan, some ten miles along the Canal.
Here we continued our training, but of a more advanced kind, brigade
schemes, tactical tours and route marches, “jerks,” bathing, and
football kept us busy and fit.

One day some of us went to see the Canal defences, dug the previous
year, about four miles east of the Canal. The sand was so soft, no
amount of ordinary sandbagging or revetting would make it stand up,
and all the trenches were made by sinking complete wooden frames into
a wide scooped out trench, and then shovelling the sand back on either
side of the frame. The original digging had to be about 20 feet wide
to allow them to sink the frames sufficiently deep in the sand. It
must have been a colossal work, and this was only a small portion of
the scheme, which included laying on water to the more important
defences, and laying out lines of light railways and roads from the
Canal eastwards, at intervals of seven and eight miles, the railheads
being linked by a lateral road.

On 4th March we left El Ferdan and marched to Kantara, the base of all
operations up the Sinai Railway, and there entrained for El Arish to
join the 74th (Yeomanry) Division. The journey of about ninety miles,
over the very recently laid railway, was timed to take some eight or
nine hours, and was uneventful and, though we travelled in open
trucks, was not too unpleasantly hot. The frequent short gradients
led to the most awful bumps and tearings at the couplings, but they
stood the strain all right.

[Illustration: THE BATTALION MASCOT.
_To face page 42_]

[Illustration: BATTALION COOKHOUSE, EL FERDAN.
_To face page 42_]

It was a very interesting journey to us, who knew only the Western
Desert, to note the difference between it and Sinai. To our eyes Sinai
did not appear to be a desert at all, as there were scrubby bushes of
sorts growing in nearly every hollow, various kinds of camel grass,
and even a few flowers—such as poppies and one or two species of
lilies. After the waste of misshaped lumps of limestone and volcanic
looking boulders, which were the only decoration of the Western
Desert, this sort of landscape seemed positively verdant.

At El Arish we were camped some three miles from the station, and a
very long three miles it seemed, as a large part of the way was over
the softest of sand and most exhausting marching, especially with a
heavy pack. Here we had our first sight of hostile aeroplanes, some of
which came over nearly every day; it was a very pretty sight to see
them in the brilliant blue at about 12,000 feet, with the white puffs
of shrapnel bursting now on one side of them now on the other (but
seldom very close). We were at once set to dig ourselves funkholes,
which we were supposed to occupy on the alarm being given, but they
never once bombed us, or seemed to take any notice of us. They made
one or two bold individual attacks on the railway, between Kantara and
El Arish, but for the most part they appeared to be out purely for
reconnaissance.

At El Ferdan we had got our first infantry reinforcements—11 new
officers—and now we received a welcome addition in the shape of 1
officer and 373 other ranks, which necessitated the reorganisation of
the battalion. We also had to acclimatise the new draft who felt the
heat and heavy going very exhausting, and, to begin with, had to go
easy.

Our camp was pleasantly situated on a sandy plain, within half a mile
of the sea, and dotted with scattered fig trees just beginning to show
a few leaves. The climate was perfect, but the water arrangements were
most difficult. We began to realise that it does not pay to be the
last comer when there is a shortage of anything. We were paid off with
the minimum number of fanatis (copper vessels for carrying water on
camel pack), and, instead of getting allotted to us the wells nearest
our camp, we had just to take whatever wells were left. These proved
to be on the other side of El Arish village, in amongst the steepest
sandhills, and it was a very tough tramp for the fatigue party, which
had to accompany the water camels and do the pumping. Our stay here
was just inside a fortnight, before the end of which we had got our
new drafts allotted to their various companies; and a very good lot
they were, though we feared they would have great difficulty in
standing the heat if we were called upon to do long marches.

On 22nd March we started on our way to our first halting place El
Burj. It was about nine miles, and we marched in the evenings, which
was undoubtedly very wise. The going was not bad, there being a
wire-netting track laid over all the softest parts: it is wonderful
how satisfactory this is to march on, and many a time did we bless the
man who invented it. The only sufferers were the mule leaders. They,
naturally, could not lead their mules on the netting, and it was extra
hard work for them, as they had to walk in the heavy sand and maintain
the pace set by the troops who were on the good going. El Burj proved
to be a most desolate spot, but it was at all events near wells; and
we were so glad to hear that we were not to march straight on next
day, that we didn’t grumble much about the scenery.

The Higher Command were a little nervous that the Turks might slip
away again as they had already done at El Arish; but the next few days
were to show that this information was not correct, and that the Turk
had no intention of leaving the Gaza-Beersheba line so long as he
could hold on to it.

We stopped there four days, and marching once more in the evening, we
did a comparatively short step to Sheikh Zowaid, camping about a mile
short of the station. It was pitch dark when we arrived and we had no
idea what our camp was like, and it was a great surprise to find in
the morning that we were on the edge of a shallow salt lake. The
sunrise on this sheet of water, fringed on the far side with a line of
scattered palm trees, was really most exquisite. It was, however, the
only good thing about the place. Water for breakfast was late in
arriving, and we were told that the half-day’s supply, which then
arrived, had to fill the dixies for lunch, and also the water-bottles
for the next march. There was not nearly enough for this, with the
result that we had to start in the blazing sun about 1 P.M. with
hardly anything in the bottles. The reason for this was, that the
camels had to go on ahead to our next stop—Rafa—about thirteen miles
distant, where it was hoped to have water drawn and ready for us on
our arrival.

This afternoon march was a gruelling experience. It was the hottest
part of the day; we had practically nothing in our water-bottles, and,
to add to our trials, the wire-netting road was not laid beyond Sheikh
Zowaid, as the ground had appeared quite firm to the divisions who had
preceded us. Since they had passed, however, the route had been cut up
by guns and transport, until it was just as soft as the softest sand,
and twice as dusty. Finally, when we did get to Rafa about 7 P.M.,
there was no water waiting for us, and we found we had to take up an
outpost line from the railway to the sea, a distance of about three
miles, through the worst sandhills we had encountered. It was hopeless
to move before the arrival of some water, and it was about 10 P.M.
before we started to take up the line, and it was well after midnight
before the left company had got the line extended right through to the
shore. These sandhills were made of such fine sand that it was
continuously blowing and drifting; any rifle pits dug out, say, a
couple of feet, in the evening, would be completely obliterated in the
morning.

Sending out supplies, as soon as it was light, to this distant
company, was a most difficult job. To begin with, we found that
camels, loaded with water fanatis, could not negotiate the steep faces
of sand, so we had to do our best with the Lewis gun mules, carrying
the fanatis only half full. Then there was a thick mist—the same mist
which hampered the attack on Gaza—and we had no accurate knowledge of
where the company was, nor was it possible to follow the tracks of the
previous night, as they were all obliterated by the drifting sand.
Luckily, some active members of the company had found the morning too
cold for sitting still, and had taken a morning walk back from the
line, so we came upon their fresh tracks, which led us to the rest of
the company.

That night we had an alarm that the Turkish cavalry was out and had
slipped round our right flank, and was likely to have a dash at our
lines of communication either at Rafa or elsewhere, so we spent the
night digging trenches which, during the next day or two, we improved
into a sort of continuous line covering the water and railway station.

During these few days the first attack was made on Gaza, but without
success. We heard a good many tales of hardship from lack of water,
and saw some prisoners come through, but there was no great
excitement.

From Rafa—which is on the Palestine Boundary—we moved on 30th March
to Khan Yunis, said to be the home of Delilah. The march was once more
in the evening, and was very comfortable, except for the last mile or
two when we got in between the high hedges of prickly pear, and had to
march through about a foot of dust in the most stifling atmosphere.
When we arrived we found that we were once more on the fringes of
civilisation: we could buy oranges in unlimited numbers, and also
fresh eggs—not the Egyptian variety, about the size of a pigeon’s
egg, but real pukka hen’s eggs. Water also was less scarce than it had
been, and we were well content with our lot. We were in Brigade
Reserve, which sounded very comfortable, but which was not so “cushy”
as it sounded. It meant that we had to do all the unloading of
supplies and ammunition at the supply depot and at the station, and
also find the very large guards which were absolutely necessary, as
the native was a diligent and skilful thief. The units in the outpost
line really had much less to do, though, of course, they had their
turns of night duty which we escaped.

Here we were joined by another brigade of our new division, and felt
that at last we were about to become like other people—organised in a
proper division.

This week, with its eggs and oranges, passed like a flash, and we once
more moved on; this time quite a short way beyond Railhead at
Deir-el-Belah, where we camped quite close to our compatriots the 52nd
Division. After one night and a good bathe we took over, on 7th April,
from the 54th Division a sector of trenches near Sheikh Nebhan,
overlooking the hollow through which meandered the Wadi Ghuzzeh. This
wadi—like all others in this part—is quite dry except during the
storms of winter, but water could usually be got by sinking wells in
the bed of the wadi at about ten or twelve feet down. Our cavalry by
day and infantry by night held a line out beyond the wadi, covering
the work of those who were sinking wells, making ramps for guns and
transport crossings, and laying the water-pipe line. This line was to
be carried to the cisterns of Um Gerrar, where it would come in very
useful during the further operations for which we were preparing. It
is rather wonderful to think that this water was carried with us by
pipe line all the way from the Canal, and was actually Nile water
brought to Kantara by the Sweetwater Canal.

The banks of the Wadi Ghuzzeh were almost everywhere precipitous, and
anything from ten to twenty feet high. All these had to be ramped, and
during the period of preparation some thirty such crossings were made
between Tel-el-Jemmi and the sea, and each unit was allotted its
crossing for the coming advance. During these days of preparation our
Battalion dug a strong line of trenches dominating the crossings of
the Wadi Ghuzzeh, and most of the officers got the chance of a
reconnaissance to a distance of about three miles beyond the wadi.

The country beyond was very much cut up with smaller wadis, which at
this time of year were a mass of wild flowers which grew most
luxuriantly, and would have been welcome in most herbaceous borders;
the anchusas—to name one—were several feet high, and covered with
brilliant blue blooms, but the brightest effect was that of fields of
mauve daisies. These grew as thick as poppies in Norfolk, and were
almost as bright. One had plenty of time to look about at all the
flowers, as there was practically no sign of a Turk, though, if one
went too near up to the top of the watershed, an odd sniper would let
off at one.

As the day for the advance drew near, all the troops told off for
battle surplus were sent back to Railhead and formed into a divisional
camp. Each battalion had to leave behind the following:—Either C.O.
or 2nd in Command, two of the four Company Commanders and two of the
four Company Sergeant-Majors, and a proportion of instructors in P.T.,
Lewis gun, musketry, gas, bombing, and signalling—in all, for a
battalion at full strength, 120 of all ranks, including all officers
above the number of 20.

This was the dustiest and dirtiest week of the whole year, the only
interest being the scraps of gossip which kept coming in, and from
which we pieced together the disastrous tale of the second battle of
Gaza. One could also ride up to the top of Raspberry Hill or Im Seirat
and see something for oneself, but usually any movement of troops was
invisible owing to clouds of dust.

The fact that our main outpost line was, after this battle, advanced
about live or six miles, was used to represent this battle as a
British victory, but, as a matter of fact, it was a victory which
failed to gain any main Turkish position. The positions which we held
at the end of the battle, to which we had retired after being stopped
at Ali-el-Muntar and Gaza itself, had been reached in the first
instance with very few casualties, and it was on the glacis between
these positions and the Turk that we suffered our main losses. This
glacis was destitute of any cover, and was dominated by the heights of
Ali-el-Muntar and the cactus hedges surrounding Gaza, and after many
gallant efforts this had to be abandoned to form a No-Man’s-Land of a
mile or a mile and a half between ourselves and the Turk. On our left
in the sandhills the progress was slower and steadier, and the line
finished up a good deal nearer the Turk than on the right; but here
again the cactus hedges lined with machine guns proved too much for
us. Our Division was not used in this battle, being in reserve, which
was lucky for us, as those who were in the front line of the attack
all got a pretty severe knock.

On 19th April the Battalion left the outpost line on Sheikh Nebhan and
marched towards Gaza, resting during the middle of the day on a ridge
west of El Burjaliye, and moving in the afternoon on to Mansura Ridge
in support. On the evening of 22nd April the Battalion moved forward
to construct and occupy trenches at El Mendur, which was on the right,
or refused, flank of the line, and there the details again joined us.
There we had a good defensive position, but the trenches still had to
be dug and, as luck would have it, this digging, which ought to have
been nothing to our men fit as they were, in ordinary weather, was
turned into a very high trial indeed by a khamsin. This red-hot and
parching wind, blowing off the desert, makes thirst a positive torture
when water is limited, and it was very limited at that time. We were
getting rather less than half a gallon per man for all purposes, which
is perhaps just about the quantity used by the ordinary man for
cooking and drinking in the cold weather at home; but in a khamsin
when you are doing five or six hours’ hard manual labour per diem, a
gallon is easily consumed. Luckily these heat waves only last about
three days, but it left us pretty limp.

After a fortnight here a start was made with thinning out the line, in
order to let some of those who had been engaged in the Gaza battle get
a spell in reserve. We moved a step to our left, taking over with our
Battalion the sector previously held by a brigade. Our portion of the
line was taken over by the 12th (Ayr and Lanark Yeomanry) Battalion
R.S.F., and we took over the line on the left previously held by the
5th and 7th Essex Regiments. Battalion H.Q. had a very comfortable
pitch at the top of the Wadi Reuben, near a junction of many tracks
which had been named Charing Cross.

Our week here meant another spell of steady work, as we had to convert
what had previously been a continuous line into a series of strong
posts, the intervals between which were covered by machine guns. This
was known as the Dumb-bell Hill Sector of the Sheikh Abbas Line, being
named from a hill whose contours on the map were a very fair imitation
of a dumb-bell. Here we were still facing to a flank, but our left
came up to the corner where the proper front began, which meant that
we lay enfiladed from the main front, and they used to throw over a
good deal of stuff if ever they spotted any movement.

At the beginning of May we did another move, this time on to the real
front in the Sheikh Abbas Sector. This was quite a pleasant place, as
we lived on the reverse slope of a fairly steep bank, pretty well
defiladed from all the Turk guns, and the trenches, though only in
most places a single line with quite insufficient communication
trenches, had a long view and a good field of fire. The wire was
continuous though not very thick, and it was quite safe to leave the
trenches during the day in charge of a few observation posts. Add to
this the fact that all, except the posts, could walk about during the
day in the open quite covered from view by the steep slope mentioned
above, consequently it was trench warfare under the most pleasant
possible conditions. All the same it was a trying life owing to the
difficulty of getting a normal amount of sleep. We had to “stand to”
from about 3 A.M. till dawn, and then work till breakfast, and on
to about 9.30 A.M. By that time it was too hot to do any more, and the
rest of the day had to be spent in idleness. Few of us could sleep
during the day because of the heat, and the temperature seldom began
to get much cooler before 8.30 P.M., and sometimes later. There was
nothing doing in the way of warfare beyond continuous patrols at
night, sometimes small, sometimes up to twenty or more. The only
occasion during our first stay did anything in the nature of a
skirmish take place, and that was brought on by one of our patrols
having a narrow escape of being cut off at dawn near a place called
Two Tree Farm. One of the platoons in the line saw what was happening
and went out to support them, and managed to get them in all right. A
very small affair, but quite exciting for the onlookers, when there is
nothing more important doing. In this part there was about a mile of
No-Man’s-Land, and the Turk was very completely wired in and was
seldom to be found outside his wire. Most of our patrols in
consequence came in without having seen a Turk at all, but it was not
a comfortable job, as machine guns were firing bursts all night.

[Illustration: DUG-OUTS IN THE FRONT LINE. SHEIKH ABBAS.
_To face page 54_]

[Illustration: A RESERVE WADI, SHEIKH ABBAS.
_To face page 54_]

We had a fortnight in the line, and on 25th May came out to Brigade
Reserve which was only a move of a couple of hundred yards and not
half so comfortable; but it gave some of us the opportunity of riding
over towards the sea and having a look at our own and the Turkish
lines on the sandhills.

While we were here we marched to Deir-el-Belah to be disinfected, and
later relieved, first, the 16th (Royal 1st Devon Yeomanry) Devonshire
Regiment, and then the Ayr and Lanarks, to allow them to do the same.
On 13th June we took over the centre sector, the Abbas Apex Sector, of
the Brigade line from the Devons, and remained in the line till 9th
July when we handed over to the 4th Royal Scots, 52nd Division. Every
night we sent out a patrol of 1 N.C.O. and 10 men, either as a
standing patrol on Essex Hill or to patrol the wire in front of our
area, and an officer’s patrol consisting of an officer and 20 men to
cover the ground between Two Tree Farm and Old British Trenches. These
patrols were nearly always fired on, but we were in luck’s way as
regards casualties.

We then marched back some four miles to the Dorset House area, where
we at once got started on intensive training for open warfare, varied
with some very hurried musketry in the Wadi Ghuzzeh. Whilst here we
had a very thorough inspection by Lieut.-General Sir P.W. Chetwode,
K.C.M.G., C.B., D.S.O., Commanding Eastern Force, and in the way of
amusements managed to get one or two games of polo with a neighbouring
brigade. The plain on which we played was in full view of some of the
Turkish positions at Gaza, and on one or two occasions play was
stopped by shells. Also, in rotation by battalions, we made bathing
expeditions to the sea at Regent’s Park. It was seven miles each way,
but was well worth the trouble as it was months since most of us had
been in the sea.

At the beginning of August we again changed our camp, and while on the
move put in a couple of days’ field firing. For once in a way the
ground lent itself to the purpose, and we had most interesting days;
but it was pretty warm work, not being confined to morning and
evening. Our new camp was right in the sandhills, near the aerodrome
at Deir-el-Belah, where we did intensive divisional training. This was
to have lasted three weeks, and was a very strenuous business. A full
divisional day meant leaving camp any time after 2 A.M. and not
getting back again until after midday; it was usually interesting for
the senior ranks, but intensely boring for everyone else. Luckily we
were able to fit in bathing, concerts, and sports, which kept everyone
cheery.

After a fortnight of this we found we were at last told off for a
useful job of work—digging a new line of trenches in the sandhills
facing Gaza, between Fusilier Ridge and Jones’ Post, in front of those
on Samson’s and Fusilier’s Ridges, at that time held by the 54th
Division. We moved over the Wadi Ghuzzeh to Regent’s Park, where we
camped right on the shore about an hour and a half’s march from the
scene of our labours. After the second night it was decided that this
was too remote, and we moved up nearer our work. Here we stayed for a
week, with half of each battalion digging each night. It was a
tiresome job, as the sand was so soft that a very wide ditch had to be
dug and then faced with sandbags. The men were very quick about
getting down, and after the first night they were practically working
in safety for the remaining four or five days necessary to complete
the sandbag revetting. All bags used had to be double, as single ones
would not keep the sand in.

Our first night was a pretty jumpy business. We were somewhere about
500 yards from the Turk lines, and there was a bright moon, with the
result that he spotted something and gave us quite a bombardment. For
some time there was considerable doubt whether the work should be
attempted at all, but thanks largely to Lieut.-Colonel J. Gilmour, who
subsequently got a D.S.O. for his work that night, a good start was
made at the cost of a few casualties. The rest of the week passed
quietly, but we were quite glad at the end of it to be relieved by a
battalion of the Norfolk Regiment of another brigade, as the march
both ways, plus digging, was very hard work.

[Illustration: A PLATOON MESS, WADI ASHER.
_To face page 58_]

[Illustration: “C” COMPANY OFFICERS’ MESS, WADI ASHER.
_To face page 58_]

We did not return to the camp we had left, but to the Wadi Selke, a
mile or two inland from Deir-el-Belah. The distance from the sea made
bathing a bit of a toil, but otherwise it was a good camp, especially
for the officers, whose bivouacs were in a fig grove which bore a very
heavy crop of excellent figs. We stayed here about seven weeks, the
longest spell we had in any one place, and made it into a good camp.
There was a fair football ground on which we got through an
inter-platoon American tournament, which kept everybody amused. There
used to be a great turn-out when the officers’ team was due to
play—they occasionally won their matches. We also had a good 200
yards’ range with sixteen targets, and carried out innumerable
experiments to decide upon the best methods of attack. We had
exhibitions of wire-cutting and smoke screens, bangalore torpedoes,
and many days of practising co-operation with aeroplanes. Very
frequent night marches by compass, combined with digging in, and
followed by an attack or advance at dawn. In fact, we were put through
a very practical training for the task which we were later to
undertake.

In order to minimise the chance of anything going wrong with the plans
for the concentration and attack on Beersheba, many officers were
given the chance of making a reconnaissance as near as possible to the
Turkish positions. This was done from Gamli, a place on the Wadi
Ghuzzeh about fifteen miles inland and about eleven from us. We rode
over there the night before, and in the early morning the cavalry
moved out and pushed their line within a mile or two of the Beersheba
defences. Covered by this, parties of officers rode out and
familiarised themselves with the sector in which their unit was to
operate, and they were thus able to hand in reports upon which Brigade
Staffs could allot concentration areas and routes.

At the moment of kicking off we were as well trained as we were ever
likely to be, and, what is more important, were very fit and full of
the offensive spirit. The concentration started on 25th October, when
we marched some six miles to Abu Sitta. Our transport establishment
had been very carefully thought out, and, though both animals and
vehicles were undoubtedly overloaded at the start, this soon rectified
itself, as consumable stores could not be replaced. We had one camel
per battalion for officers’ mess, and he started out very fully laden.
He was a good deal less heavily loaded towards the end of the
operations. Next day we marched on beyond the Wadi at Gamli—a very
dusty and tiresome march—and were to have remained there throughout
the next day. Word came in, however, that the Turk was attacking our
outpost line at El Buggar, some ten miles out, and the Battalion had
to move off at a moment’s notice about noon. The march through the
heat of the afternoon was most trying, and on arrival it was found the
enemy were occupying part of the line we were to take up. They
withdrew, however, in the evening, and we constructed a series of
strong posts from the Beersheba road to south of El Buggar.

During these days of concentration the plain lying between Shellal and
Beersheba had been the scene of great activities. Karm had been
selected as the position for a forward supply dump, and both light and
broad gauge railways were being pushed out towards it at top speed.
The first blow of the campaign was to be launched at the defences of
Beersheba, which were facing west and extended both north and south of
the Wadi Saba. They occupied a commanding position and were
continuously wired. The main attack was to be pushed home south of the
Wadi Saba by the 74th and 60th Divisions, and at the same time the
enemy’s extreme left flank was to be turned by the cavalry, who were
to make a wide detour through very difficult and waterless country and
attack Beersheba from the east, and, if possible, cut off the retreat
of the garrison of the Beersheba area. Covering all these preparations
an outpost line was established some miles east of Karm and El Buggar,
held on the left by the 53rd Division, then the 74th Division, then
the Imperial Camel Corps, and, south of the Wadi Saba, where it was
much more lightly held, a mere line of cavalry observation posts.
These cavalry posts were covering, and slightly in advance of, the
positions selected for battle headquarters for the 74th and 60th
Divisions.

The preliminary arrangements for the troop movements went like
clockwork, as did also the approach marches to the positions of
deployment, and at the appointed time on 30th October, the Divisional
H.Q. moved up the five or six miles to the battle stations selected.
There was no sign of crowding or confusion—the only indication that
there was anything unusual on, was the dust which could be seen here
and there. The moves of the infantry began just as it was getting
dusk, and long before dawn both the 60th and 74th Divisions had their
two brigades on the line of deployment, which stretched southwards
some three or four miles from the Wadi Saba.

As soon as it was daylight a bombardment of the Turkish advanced
position on Hill 1070 was started, smothering the entire landscape in
clouds of dust. This first attack, which was carried through by one of
the brigades of the 60th Division, was ordered at 8.30 A.M. Hill 1070
was carried at 8.45, and during the next hour all the remaining
advanced positions fell, and it was even reported that the enemy was
here and there evacuating portions of his main line. There was now
another interval for bombardment, whilst the gunners were
wire-cutting for the attack on the main positions. During this period
of waiting, which was longer than had been expected, our infantry
suffered a good deal from shelling, much of which was in enfilade from
positions north of the Wadi, and it was with relief that they received
the order about 12.15 to proceed with the main attack. In about forty
minutes all the trenches opposite the 60th Division were captured, and
the 74th completed their task only about twenty minutes later, one
brigade having had some difficulty owing to incomplete wire-cutting.
The 60th had, by 2 P.M., advanced some way beyond the captured
trenches towards Beersheba, and the 74th crossed the Wadi Saba and
cleared the trenches northward to the barrier on the Fara-Beersheba
road.

[Illustration: TURKISH TRENCH WITH DEAD TURKS. HILL 1070, NEAR
BEERSHEBA.
_To face page 62_]

[Illustration: BATHING, REGENT’S PARK.
_To face page 62_]

Meantime the cavalry had found their detour even lengthier than had
been expected, with the result that they were some hours later than
they should have been, and were held up for most of the day by
trenches at Tel-el-Saba, a mile or more east of Beersheba proper.
These were, however, rushed towards evening, and Beersheba was
occupied that night. Very few of the troops allotted for the defence
of Beersheba escaped, the whole operation being completely successful.
The Engineers at first reported that the water supply and wells were
intact; but this proved to be far from the fact, and within
forty-eight hours the shortage of water was being severely felt.
After this smashing success in the first stage of operations all our
tails were well up, and everyone was keen to know what was to be the
next move.

The next day found the 60th concentrated at Beersheba; the 74th just
north of the barrier on the Fara-Beersheba road, while an advance
northward had been begun by the 53rd and, in the evening, by a party
of the 74th. One brigade group for the former advanced in a northerly
direction west of Ain Kohleh, and the remainder in a north-westerly
direction on Kuweilfeh. The left advance was successful, and a line
was established on the desired objective, a ridge running east and
west some five or six miles north of Beersheba. The other advance was
not so fortunate; something went wrong with the supplies both of water
and ammunition, and strong opposition was encountered. Also, it was
impossible country to campaign in; practically roadless, and very much
broken up with wadis and rocky precipices, which made it most
difficult to maintain communications, even though a mounted brigade
was thrown in to help.

The situation up here was much the same next day. No great progress
had been made, nor were good communications established, but they had
managed to get through both water and ammunition. Other divisions
were, however, kept on the move. The 74th were moved up to take over
some line from the left of the 53rd, the 60th were concentrated some
three miles N.W. of Beersheba, and one brigade of the 10th was moved
to Irgeig. This was an anxious day, as the 53rd seemed to be quite
held up at Kuweilfeh and not too well provided with supplies, and
there was considerable doubt, in view of the general scarcity of
water, whether it would be possible to carry on the campaign, which
involved rolling up the Sheria and Kuwauka defences from the east.

Our Intelligence Department had for the moment “lost” a Turkish
division, which complicated the situation very much as, if it were
suddenly to appear on the right flank of our attack on Sheria, a most
serious situation would be created. However, on the afternoon of the
5th, word was received from the 53rd Division that they had captured
prisoners from numerous different battalions, some of which were known
to belong to the missing division. This settled the question, as it
was quite clear that the 53rd were keeping them too busy at Kuweilfeh
for them to be able to send any serious force to Sheria. The “lost”
division it seems was one which had been sent to reinforce the forces
defending Beersheba, but by the time it got to Sheria the Beersheba
defences were taken, and it was obviously no use going there. It was
accordingly then sent to Kuweilfeh in anticipation of an attempt by
us to turn their extreme left flank.

On the afternoon of the 5th orders were rapidly issued for the attack
next day on the Sheria defences and the Kuwauka system.

As most of the troops destined for the Sheria attack were at this time
in the outpost line, this meant a concentration and deployment by
night in an unknown country where map reading was very difficult
indeed, and it was most creditable that it should have been, as it
was, successfully carried out. There were certain minor mistakes, but
in the main the attack came off as planned, and by midday all the line
of the Sheria defences were in our hands.

The spearhead of the attack was the 229th Brigade, with ourselves and
the Somersets in the front line, and it was a brilliant affair from
start to finish. The brigades on our right and left, the 230th Brigade
and a brigade of the 60th Division, were echelonned in rear of us, and
the prompt success of our attack greatly assisted the advance of the
60th and 10th Divisions on the Kuwauka system. Our Lewis guns
especially gave great assistance, and were successful in preventing
the Turks from removing several of their guns, placed in rear of the
Kuwauka system. This was acknowledged by the 60th Division who, in the
true sporting spirit, let our Division know that they did not claim
those guns as captured by them, though it was by their men that the
guns were actually collected.

The guns of the 60th and 10th Divisions served them well and cut the
wire most thoroughly and, without any undue number of casualties, the
positions were finally taken about 2.30 P.M. The 10th then took over
the line from the 60th, who advanced to the attack on the wells and
railway station at Tel-el-Sheria. Unfortunately it was by this time
getting dark, and direction was to some extent lost. The Turk put up a
good fight here, and it was not until the morning that the wells and
station were in our hands. We could see their dumps blazing all night
far to the north, and it was clear that they had made up their minds
to a general retreat.

These first six days in November had been strenuous days for the
Battalion. On 30th October the Corps Cavalry and I.C.C. had passed
through our lines, and we moved up to a position in Dundee Wadi. The
231st Brigade then passed through and took over from us, attacking
along with 230th Brigade working in conjunction with the 60th and
Cavalry Divisions. On 2nd November we took over the outpost line from
the 2/10th Middlesex Regiment (53rd Division), and on 4th November we
again advanced our line, meeting with no opposition except sniping and
intermittent shell fire. At 7 P.M. on the evening of 5th November we
received orders for the attack on the enemy’s position, were relieved
at 9 P.M. by a battalion of the 230th Brigade, and at 11 P.M. moved
off to the point of deployment.

At 3.30 on the morning of 6th November we deployed for the attack, the
230th Brigade being on our right, and the Somersets on our left. The
advance began at five and we were badly enfiladed from the right where
the attacking troops were being held up, and whence we continued to be
enfiladed until we detached a couple of platoons, who carried the
enemy’s positions there by 6.15. By 5.55 we had taken our first
objective and captured four guns, all limbered up and trying to get
away. We promptly attacked the ridge beyond, and having captured it
proceeded to consolidate. At midday we again advanced under pretty
heavy fire, but the Lewis gunners were very well handled, and
succeeded in knocking out the crew and teams of two field guns beyond
the railway, and we carried on to the position just east of the
railway.

Our casualties at the Battle of Sheria were Major G.E.B. Osborne,
Lieutenants J.D. Kinniburgh and E.A. Thompson, and 47 other ranks
killed, and 5 officers and 182 other ranks wounded, of whom 13
subsequently died in hospital. Among the wounded was Lieut.-Colonel J.
Gilmour, who was hit at the very end of the day, and to whom was due
no small part of the credit for the victory. His brilliant
leadership and dash at Sheria earned him a well-won bar to his D.S.O.,
and the admiration of the whole Brigade. The elan and dash of the
Battalion, under his inspiring leadership, throughout the operations
gained the highest praise from all quarters. Between 5 A.M. and midday
the Battalion along with the Somersets had advanced some 10,000 yards,
in the course of which they had captured several successive all-round
positions held by considerable garrisons, and well provided with
machine guns. In addition to 99 prisoners we had captured six field
guns with limbers, three machine guns, and a large quantity of S.A.A.
Our dead were buried in the cactus garden.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF SHERIA
_To face page 68_]

Major J. Younger who had been acting as liaison-officer between the
60th and 74th Divisions was sent for to take over command of the
Battalion, which was in the highest of spirits in spite of all it had
come through, full of beans, very proud of themselves and the Colonel,
and more than ready for another scrap.

We were all thoroughly glad to have had such a good introduction to
infantry work; not only had it been a success, but it had also been
well planned. The staff work had been excellent and, above all, it had
been open warfare for which we thought, rightly or wrongly, that our
mounted training had prepared us.

We had now got some news of the doings of the other corps on the
coast. We knew that they had succeeded in taking Gaza and were
advancing north, and we saw the cavalry divisions galloping through us
brigade after brigade to take up the pursuit. The Turk was in a most
awkward position, but proved himself a first-class rear-guard fighter.

On the night of the 7th he had only the narrow neck between the
cavalry and the XXI. Corps, who were advancing up the coast, and this
neck was not more than five or six miles wide; but in spite of all
difficulties he managed to get most of his infantry and some of his
guns away. We ourselves expected to start our advance north following
on the cavalry, but it turned out that the transport was not able to
maintain two corps so far in advance of Railhead. The XXI. Corps,
being already on its way north, was given the task of clearing the
Plain of Philistia, and following up the Turkish retreat with the
assistance of a considerable portion of our (XX. Corps) transport. As
we were not to go on, the authorities were in no hurry to move us, and
we spent a couple of days clearing up the battlefield before returning
in a couple of the dustiest and most unpleasant marches to the
neighbourhood of Karm.

Our actual destination was Goz-el-Gelieb; but when we got near the
spot it was so thick with dust that we could only see about 50 yards,
and as the plain was quite featureless and all alike, we just
bivouacked for the night, and hoped we should find in the morning that
we were somewhere near the right spot.

First thing after daylight, while the dew was still able to keep down
the dust, we got our bearings and moved about three-quarters of a mile
to the correct map reference. Here we were joined during the day by
our “B” team or battle surplus, whom we had last seen a fortnight
before, and a draft of 2 officers and 126 other ranks out from home.

On 15th November Major-General E.S. Girdwood, commanding 74th
Division, at a Brigade Parade presented Military Medals, awarded for
gallantry at the Battle of Sheria, when 9 men from the Battalion
received the honour.

After a few days in the dust of this plain, we moved back in two
marches to our old area near the coast. This time we were just south
of the Wadi Ghuzzeh, on a hill which was beautifully green and fresh.
All the lower ground round it had been used for camps for the best
part of a year, but this hill had been so prominent and so fully under
observation from Ali-el-Muntar, that it could not be occupied so long
as the Turks held Gaza. Here we had a great presentation of medals by
the Corps Commander (Lieut.-General Sir Philip W. Chetwode, commanding
XX. Corps). Our share for Sheria was 1 D.S.O., 4 M.C., 5 D.C.M., and
1 more M.M. making 10 M.M. in all, which we all agreed was a quite
satisfactory allowance. Evidently the authorities at home thought so,
if one may judge from the fact that there was practically nothing
obtainable for the next six months.

We were told by the authorities that we were certain to remain some
time in the Gaza area, where we were fully occupied in salvage work,
for the simple reason that the Q Branch could not feed us if we moved
beyond Railhead. Some new factor must, however, have arisen, as we had
only stayed some five days, and most of the Battalion was out some
four or five miles away on salvage work, when suddenly orders arrived
that we were to march that afternoon.—Starting point, the crossing of
the Wadi Guzzeh, 4.30 P.M.

Before describing our march it would be as well to give some idea of
the position of the XXI. Corps, which had been, with the assistance of
the cavalry, pushing the Turkish forces back on to Jerusalem and
Jaffa. This pursuit, which met with a pretty stout resistance
throughout, had been going on for nearly a fortnight, and the Plain of
Philistia was cleared of the Turk, whose main forces had retired on
our left a little beyond Jaffa, and on our right into the precipitous
Judæan Highlands defending Jerusalem. Our Railhead had only reached
Deir Sineid, a few miles north of Gaza, and about thirty-five miles
south of the battle front. The Turkish railway, which went as far as
Junction Station, and from which much had been hoped, proved almost
useless owing to shortage of rolling stock, and consequently supply
depended almost entirely on motor lorry and camel from Railhead, or
from the Wadi Sukharieh, where some supplies were being landed in surf
boats. The question of supply had been most difficult, and water
supply hardly less so, even for the one corps, and it looked as if we
might come in for some scarcity when we got up nearer the front. In
the pursuit of the portion of the Turkish Army, which was retiring on
Jerusalem, our cavalry had penetrated some way into the hills, and
were endeavouring to hold on until the infantry could get up to
relieve them. The process of relief was going on during the few days
we were marching up.

Now to return to our part in the affair. Our first march was a short
one of some seven or eight miles to a bivouac a mile beyond
Ali-el-Muntar, the prominent height dominating Gaza at which we had
been looking the whole summer. We stayed here for a day, partly to
wait for the arrival of greatcoats, which would be so necessary in the
Judæan Highlands, and to get rid of our helmets, and partly to give
the supply people a chance. Most of us spent an hour or two examining
Ali-el-Muntar and its defences. It looked very much less knocked about
than one would have expected after the severe bombardments to which it
had been subjected, and we came to the conclusion that there had never
been very many troops actually holding it. The infantry had evidently
been in trenches well away from the hill, which appeared to have been
used entirely for observation purposes. It must have been a pretty
uncomfortable corner for an F.O.O., as the top used to appear to be
blown off about three times a day. Concealment of trenches had been
made very easy by the presence of numerous cactus hedges, and it is
doubtful whether our guns, except in the actual assault, had ever had
a really satisfactory target.

After this day of rest, 24th November, we marched just over twelve
miles to Mejdal. The weather was not too hot, and there was quite a
good beaten mud road, and we should have found it a fairly easy march
if it had not been for foot troubles. We had been more than six months
without having ever marched on a road—it had usually been soft
sand—and the sudden change to the flat hard surface of the baked mud
fired the men’s feet at once. When we arrived in camp at Mejdal we had
a foot parade, and found that there were over a hundred cases of
blisters and dressings for the medical officer and his satellites.
This Mejdal was quite a considerable village, and as we marched in we
met the most dignified specimens of native we had yet seen. Mounted on
donkeys and wearing the flowing robes of the Old Testament, they
really did remind one of the patriarchs in our stained glass windows.
All the brilliant colours—purple, crimson, and orange—were
represented, and many of them had the regulation beard. There were
also numbers of the usual class selling oranges and, oddly enough,
also cigarettes.

Next morning we were again on the road and not feeling too cheery
about it, as we were told we were to do a 19–mile march—rather a
formidable proposition when every second man already had sore feet—as
it was the intention of the authorities to get us up to Jaffa in two
strenuous marches. However, during the course of the day the plan of
campaign was changed, and we were told that we should probably have to
go to the Judæan Hills instead of to the Ramleh-Jaffa Sector near the
sea. This was not the best of news, as there was no doubt which was
the more salubrious spot; but it had this compensation that it knocked
six miles off our day’s march, our camp being pitched near the Wadi
Sukharieh mentioned above, which was a convenient starting-point for
the next day whether we were ordered to Ramleh or to Junction Station.
We found, to our surprise, that the feet were no worse than the
previous night; some few were getting pretty bad, but most of them
looked as if they were on the mend.

The next day we were finally labelled Judæa, and did a most trying
march—only about eleven miles, but a frightfully hot day—at first
through various pleasant looking farm colonies, and later through a
most desolate piece of country to Junction Station. On this trek we
were lucky enough to come under the eye of the Commander-in-Chief, who
at once noticed what we all very well knew—that we were carrying a
much greater load than could reasonably be expected in such a climate.
We had to do it, as the necessary camels had simply not been
available. However, the Commander-in-Chief quickly remedied this, and
from here onwards we had camels provided to carry our greatcoats,
leaving us pack and blanket only.

At Junction Station we had our first taste of water trouble. As we
were making our way from west to east, we were changing places with a
division of the XXI. Corps. This division had spent the previous night
at Junction Station and had drunk the wells dry, so that no water was
obtainable on our arrival. We were told we should get it by 9 P.M.,
and then a later hour was mentioned; but the net result was that we
got just enough to make our breakfast tea, but not enough to fill the
water-bottles, so we started on our next stage in the very worst of
tempers to find that we had hardly got out of camp before we were
involved in a regular block at the railway crossing which, needless to
say, was frightfully dusty. This delay proved, however, to be a
blessing in disguise, as it enabled our water camels to catch us up
with a small ration of water for lunch. If we had not got this water
we should probably not have got more than 75 per cent. of the Brigade
to the end of the day’s journey. We got into camp on a rocky slope
near Latron about dusk, and almost at once were warned to be ready to
start again at 9 P.M. to march another ten miles and take over part of
the line in the hills. This was soon altered to starting at 3 A.M.
owing to better news from the front, and again to 8 A.M. the next
morning as the situation calmed down.

It was now becoming really interesting, as we expected to be in the
line within twenty-four hours, and all sorts of rumours were current.
Generally it was understood that we had penetrated successfully into
the hills until we were brought to a halt by the difficulties of
supply, and that now the Turk was beginning to recover from the
effects of his long retreat and was launching counter-attacks, which
had in some cases been fairly successful, and that he had given the
XXI. Corps a couple of heavy knocks to the north-west of Jerusalem. It
was expected that the XXI. Corps would be pulled out to the
comparative comfort of the Coastal Sector, while we—the XX.
Corps—were to have the honour of attacking, and we hoped, capturing
Jerusalem.

We had now been marching for six days and most of us found our feet
improving and getting accustomed to the roads, though we had lost some
twenty-five good men, who had kept going like good ’uns with really
sore feet until they had to be sent to hospital by the M.O. That is
one great joy about the British Tommy, if things are really “business”
he will stick almost anything. Men who had protested before and during
every route march in training that they could not carry a pack more
than a few miles, and who literally had to be hunted home, did all
these marches up to the front without faltering, though they were
incomparably harder and though a heavier load was being carried.

Our next march was a short one of six miles into the foothills to Beit
Sirra, a spot quite close to Likia, in a piece of country we were to
know very thoroughly before we were done. Here we spent an uneasy
night “in readiness to move”; but it was not till next morning that we
really took to the hills, marching up a most precipitous Roman road to
a spot which can only be described as Q 20, central. It was close to
the Roman road and about half-way between Likia and Kubeibe, and lay
on the covered side of the ridge south of that on which our line was
at that time established.

Next day we got orders to take over a bit of the line, and towards
evening we climbed down into the Wadi Selman, and up the other side to
relieve another brigade of our Division. This turned out to be a
pretty jumpy business, as there had been some heavy fighting on our
right during the afternoon, and the people we relieved told us that,
to our right, all the ridge north of the Wadi Selman was in the hands
of the Turks, and that they might be expected to advance at any time
against our right flank, and that they themselves, though they had not
got it definitely, understood that our line was to be withdrawn behind
the Wadi Selman.

The sector which we were supposed to take over extended from Hill
1750—where, presumably, even if we ever had had touch with our own
troops, our flank would now be right in the air—to the Wadi Zait. A
deep and precipitous wadi—the Shebab—ran from the Turkish positions
through the centre of our sector down to our Battalion H.Q. in the
Wadi Selman. We had no news of any change in the situation on our
left, so assumed it must be all right, and one company was sent up the
hill to occupy the portion of the line to the left (or west) of the
Wadi Shebab, getting touch with the 52nd Division on their extreme
left. This lot were lucky enough to find an enamelled wire already
laid from Battalion H.Q. to their Company H.Q. and, though it was
broken in one or two places by mules during the relief, they soon got
it patched up and in communication with Battalion H.Q. A company and a
half was sent to the right of the Wadi Shebab to move in fighting
order towards Hill 1750, making good the ridge as they proceeded.
There was no chance of getting wire out here, nor had we enough lamps
to establish a transmitting station, which was necessary; but by using
our own Orilux torches we managed to get through one or two brief
reports of progress, and at last, about 2 A.M., a message came through
that they thought they were on the hill and had encountered no
opposition.

In the morning as soon as it was light, Lieut.-Colonel Younger started
out to see the right flank, and soon decided that they were not on
Hill 1750, which he made out to be twin knolls some half a mile
further on, and just about the same height as the hill we were
occupying. On one of these peaks we thought we saw a few Turks, and
about midday D Company (Captain H.S. Sharp) made a detour down
half-way to the Wadi Selman in our rear, and then advanced straight up
the cliff at these two peaks. They got to the top unopposed, but the
moment they showed over the skyline they were met with a hail of
machine-gun bullets and shrapnel, the position being completely
dominated by the Turks at medium range. How it was no one could
understand, but the attackers only had one casualty on the top, and he
was very gallantly brought back by the officer in charge of the
company. We stuck to one twin peak but evacuated the other, and it was
now clear that 1750 was still farther on, and that the Turk was
occupying it, so that, in order to have a dash at it, the first thing
to do was to extend our line farther to the right and get in touch
with some of our own troops. Distances and contours were almost
impossible to appreciate from the map, and it was not realised what a
great extent of line we were being asked to hold with a battalion, and
really, faulty map reading was excusable, considering the maps we had
to work with.

To begin with, the map was two miles to the inch, and was not
contoured—merely hachured—which is no earthly use where the peaks
are crowded up within a few hundred yards of each other, so that three
peaks in line appear on the map as one ridge, though there may be dips
of 500 feet between them, and looking at it the other way, it is very
hard to believe that a place which it takes you one and a half hours
to reach walking is less than a mile on the map. We were all deceived,
but by good luck on this occasion no harm was done.

Brigade at once sent up three companies and some machine-gunners to
support us, so we were all right in the line; but they proved to be
too many for the signal communications, which all had to come through
Battalion H.Q., and the signallers were worked to death. All these odd
companies and the machine-gunners had to arrange for their own supply
of ammunition, water, and rations with their own units, as they were
the only people who could supply the necessary pack animals to bring
the stuff as far as Battalion H.Q. From here the stores had to be
carried by hand by fatigue parties, and these parties had to be
advised by signals whenever their stores arrived. This meant
continuous work for the signallers, who had to keep their stations
going with insufficient reliefs, a thing that can only be done for a
very limited time.

We had hardly got this extended disposition complete when orders were
received to relieve two companies of the Devons, as their battalion
was down to carry out an attack that night. Of course as luck would
have it, the companies were right up on the top of the hill, and the
only people available to relieve them were the companies which had
just come down after having done a couple of days up there. However,
there was nothing else for it, and they just had to go back, with the
promise that they would be relieved as soon as Brigade sent the troops
to replace them. During the afternoon the senior officers from the
attacking battalion came down to reconnoitre, but it was about 4 P.M.
by the time they got down, and consequently they had only time to see
their objective from one point of view which, as it happened, was a
fatal misfortune, as it left them with quite a false impression of
what their position would be when once they got their objective. There
was some discussion as to whether it should be a raid or a
consolidation. All those on the spot favoured a raid, but judging from
the map it appeared a desirable position to consolidate, and this was
finally ordered.

Almost every division made one such mistake when first operating in
this mountainous country, and this was to prove to be ours. The
objective was the hill and village of Beit-ur-el-Foka—the Upper
Bethhoron of the Bible, where the sun stood still for Joshua—which
seemed to occupy a commanding position on the old Roman road between
Beit-ur-el-Tahta and El Jib, and was marked clearly on the map. It was
also supposed to contain water, and to be desirable for that reason.
The attack was carried out by an advance up the Wadi Zait to a
position of deployment at the foot of Foka Hill itself, whence the
summit was successfully rushed. There were few casualties and a good
haul of prisoners—somewhere about 150. But it was to prove impossible
to remain there. The position itself was not sufficiently roomy for a
battalion, and no digging was possible owing to the rocky ground. It
was also too exposed from no less than three sides.

Opposite, across the Wadi Imaish, which ran east and west, roughly
N.N.E. from Foka, was the dominating ridge of Zeitun, some hundreds of
feet higher than Foka and under 1800 yards away; to the N.N.W.,
perhaps 2000 yards off, was the crest of Khirbet Kereina, fully as
high as Foka; and, as if these two dominating positions in front,
giving first-class artillery observation, were not enough, there was
also a hill, subsequently known as Hill A, which was just about the
same height as Foka, was held by some Turks with one or two machine
guns, and fired slap into their right rear from the south-east. This
last was only some 500 or 600 yards away, but was divided from Foka by
a deep ravine, and it was found impossible to send a detachment to
storm it. It was this hill in rear that sealed the doom of the
business. They might have managed to stick it out in spite of the
rifle and artillery fire in front until the Turks got tired of it, but
the fire from the rear limited all movement and all getting up of
bombs and ammunition. Under cover of rifle fire and shrapnel the Turks
stormed up again and again, climbing up the steep face of the Wadi
Imaish where our guns could not have touched them, even if they had
had—which they hadn’t—any decent arrangements for observation. Once
up within bombing distance, the Turk had the great advantage of a
large supply of bombs, whereas we had not had time to get up more than
a few which were soon exhausted. Even ammunition was not too
plentiful, as everything had to be carried up the very steep Wadi
Zait, the top portion of which was commanded from Hill A. The best way
for evacuating wounded proved to be down the Roman road to
Beit-ur-el-Tahta, where they were handed over to the 10th Division who
were now on our left.

To make a long story short, the O.C. Battalion had to make up his mind
to quit, and he had a hard job, even with some assistance from the
10th Division on Tahta Ridge, to bring away his wounded who were very
numerous. About 3 P.M. the last of them came out, having had a
terrible day, only four or five officers remaining unwounded. They
stuck to it well, but it was an untenable position. The Turk contented
himself with driving them off the Foka Heights, and did not attempt to
advance farther—if he had, it might have proved just as bad for him
as Foka had been for us.

On 4th December we were relieved by the 6th Munster Regiment and went
back to our old camp at Q 20 central, where our transport had remained
all the time. Here we rested for a couple of days. We found that our
Division had been pulled out, in order to take part in the sweeping
movement by which it was hoped to capture Jerusalem. On the third day
after our relief we moved out, in floods of rain, along the so-called
road to Kubeibe, where, along with the battalion which had been in
Foka and half the machine-gun company, we were to form the Divisional
Reserve for the first phase of the operations. It was an awful night,
and the track was so steep and slippery that the camels could not get
on, and there was broken-down transport every few hundred yards along
the track which was charitably described on the map as a road. The
site of our bivouac was partly rocky ledges and partly slippery mud,
and we spent a most uncomfortable night. The attacking troops of the
Division moved to their positions of deployment the same night, and in
the early morning successfully took the Beit Iksa trenches, which were
the first objective. The next stage—the capture of the El Burj Ridge
and Neby Samwil—was not so rapid, but all were in our hands on the
following day (8th December) and, on our right, the 60th Division had
made equally good progress in face of determined opposition south of
the Jaffa-Jerusalem road.

On 8th December 3 officers and 100 other ranks went off road-making.
One officer and 30 other ranks formed a military cordon round
Kubeibeh, and 1 officer and 50 men proceeded to Enab to represent
Scotland in the Guard of Honour which it was hoped would be required
for the entry into Jerusalem. Thirty more for A.S.C. fatigues at
Kuryet-el-Enab, and another lot to fetch from Latron a lot of donkeys,
which were to be added to our transport establishment. The result was
that, when about 5 P.M. we were ordered to rejoin the Brigade in the
neighbourhood of Beit Iksa, we could only muster about 200 of all
ranks. The Senior Company Commander was accordingly left behind to
collect what he could and follow on, and we started off with the rest
of the Divisional Reserve to do the six or seven miles in the dark in
single file. We could not use the road—so-called—from Kubeibe to
Beit Iksa, as we could not discover whether the village was wholly in
our hands, so we wandered on in pitch darkness with no path of any
kind to show us the best way along the most precipitous slopes, and
the most dangerous wadis. The camels were entirely unable to follow,
and even the mules were in difficulties, several of them falling over
ledges and down terraces. It was 1 A.M. (we started about 5 P.M.)
before we reached the locality in which we had expected to find the
Brigade, but we could find no trace of them, and there was nothing to
be done but send out a few scouts to look for them, and lie down and
sleep until daylight.

The situation was not improved by the fact that all ration convoys
had broken down the day before owing to the slippery tracks, and we
had only the unexpired portion (_i.e._, breakfast) instead of two
days’ ration plus the unexpired portion as we should have had, and as
the authorities no doubt thought we had. We had also no confidence
that those who were responsible for bringing up the overdue rations
had any idea where to look for us even if the weather improved
sufficiently to allow them to make use of the tracks. We understood
that we were in for a four days’ push, and it looked like being a real
hungry one. This proved to be the case, as no rations reached us until
the end of the operations; but luckily they lasted only two days
instead of four.

Next morning, the 9th, just before dawn, someone came rattling down
the steep slope above us, and to our joy we found it was the
Brigade-Major coming to look for us, and that Brigade H.Q. was just
above us—“just above” being 600 feet up one of the steepest slopes
one could climb. However, we got up all right about 7 A.M. and managed
to get a bit of our precious food disposed of before we received
orders to move.

Our part in the assault of Jerusalem was to march with all speed to
take up a position on Tel-el-Ful, a hill some 2500 feet high, a mile
or so north of the town, so as to cut off the Turks from retreating up
the Nablus road. We were, as Divisional Reserve, carrying full
packs—not light fighting order—and it was an awful piece of country
to cross without even a track. We had first to climb down some 600
feet into the Beit Iksa Wadi; then up the precipitous face of El Burj
about 1000 feet from the bottom to the top; then a couple of
comparatively easy miles down into the Wadi Hannina, and up the other
side some 1200 feet to Tel-el-Ful. Our Battalion did not have to go
very far beyond the Wadi Hannina, but we certainly thought it quite
far enough. This was to be one of our worst nights, as it rained hard
and blew a gale, and we were on the exposed side of the hill; also, no
rations had arrived or were likely to arrive, nor was there any sign
of them when we started off on a further advance north the next
morning. However, we knew that Jerusalem had fallen, which cheered us
up and made us hopeful that the operations would last less than the
promised four days.

Our advance north was an attempt to get us into line with our own
people on Neby Samwil, which was easily the most commanding feature of
this part of the country. The battalion on our right had to attack up
the exposed ridge along which ran the Nablus road, while we were lucky
enough to have the frontage just east of the Wadi Hannina, where our
objective, the steep and massive feature of Bab-el-Muallek covered us
from artillery observation. The Turk soon spotted the movement and
during our advance treated us to heavy shelling, which took a
considerable toll from the exposed right battalion, whereas they were
firing at us without observation, and did us no damage, though the
machine-gunners, who advanced along with us, lost both men and mules.
The actual crest of Bab-el-Muallek was most uncomfortable, as shells
were bursting all along it; but though they searched the back of the
hill most thoroughly, it was so steep that we were pretty safe so long
as we lay snug. About 4 P.M. a couple of mules arrived with some
rations. It did not go far, but was enough to give everyone a bite,
and we were told that the rest would soon arrive.

Just on the top of this, we were told that the 60th Division was
holding the line Tel-el-Ful-Beit Hannina, and that we might, as soon
as we were ready, retire through them into support in the Wadi
Hannina. Not much time was lost in getting under way—we did not even
wait for the Lewis gun mules, which were away being watered, but
man-handled the guns and heavy valises. These proved really too heavy,
and the men responsible for them were very much exhausted by the time
we got into bivouac, though the distance cannot have been more than
two or three miles. Here we found a regular haven of rest.
Comparatively smooth, lying in an olive grove, and _all_ the missing
rations waiting for us. We ate about one whole day’s rations in one
enormous feed, and then went to sleep. We all needed it pretty badly,
and even at dawn the whole camp was still sound asleep in spite of the
fact that they had no covering but their greatcoats, and there was
half an inch of ice on the water-buckets.

This proved to be the end of the Jerusalem push, and next day, 11th
December, in glorious weather we marched back to a bivouac near Beit
Iksa on the slopes of the wadi leading down from Neby Samwil to
Kulonieh. Here we received our donkeys—forty per battalion—but they
were in miserable condition and felt the cold terribly, most of them
having come from the semi-tropical Nile Valley. They had also had a
tough journey up, having had to carry loads most of the way from
Railhead, when what they required was rest and food. Here we were
within four miles of Jerusalem, and all ranks had the chance of seeing
the city.

During the next week or so we managed to supplement our rations with
dried figs, and the most excellent native brown bread; but the supply
of the latter soon stopped, as we were forbidden to buy it, as it
would just mean that the B.E.F. would have to supply bread to the
population later on if we were allowed to consume their stocks of
flour. H.Q. actually managed to secure a turkey, which was picketed
out near the Quartermaster’s stores to wait for Christmas. The
programme here was “Road Improvement,” but all the same we had a slack
time for ten days or so, when we were told what was to be the next
stunt. We were to assist in a big turning movement in which we were to
go along the Zeitun Ridge, the object being the gaining of some elbow
room to the north of Jerusalem. The 60th Division were to make an
advance up the Nablus road, with which was to be combined a sweep by
the 10th Division, with our Brigade attached, on to Bireh and Ram
Allah from the west. The country favoured such a movement, as the main
ridges ran east and west. We were to be at the same time the point of
the echelon (the brigades being more or less echelonned from the
right) and the inside of the wheel.

Our course lay along the Zeitun Ridge to Beitania, and on our left,
and slightly in rear of us, brigades of the 10th Division were to
sweep clear the Kereina Ridge south of the deep Wadi Ain Arik, and the
Deir Ibzia-Ain Arik-Kefr Skeyan Ridges again farther to the north.
This meant that we had to get back to our old home in the Wadi Zait,
at the point where it joins the Wadi Selman, advance by night to the
Wadi Imaish, which lay between Foka and Zeitun, and deploy there for
the main attack. This was some twelve miles from Beit Iksa, and the
preliminary reconnaissance was a hard day’s work. We found that the
10th Division had, since we were there, secured Foka and Hill A, from
which we got an excellent view of our objective—Zeitun—but we failed
to find or hear of any path down to the Wadi Imaish. As nearly all the
hills here about are steeply terraced, that meant we could take no
mules with us to our position of deployment, as it would have been
hopeless to have them clattering about on the rocks in the dark, and
would have been certain to give the show away. We had expected to be
able to do this assembly and approach in our own time, but through our
secret service a copy was obtained of a Turkish order for an attack
down the Nablus-Jerusalem road by two fresh divisions, timed for 6
A.M. on 27th December. This was only secured, however, three days in
advance, and it was not till 3 P.M. on Christmas Eve that we got
orders to move at once to our position of readiness in the Wadi Zait.

We hurriedly packed up, H.Q. cursing their luck at not being able to
enjoy their turkey in peace, and got off about 6 P.M. Just after we
started it began to rain heavily, and by 8 P.M., when the camel convoy
tried to climb the hill out of the wadi, it was so slippery that they
had to give it up. The quartermaster’s hopes were then pinned on the
donkeys, who were being tried for the first time, but the mud and
cold proved too much for them. They managed to get most of them as far
as Kubeibe—about half way—but they were quite incapable of going any
farther. It was an awful night; such squalls and rain that the best
mackintosh, much less greatcoat, was quite useless, and as our course
lay along the Roman road we never left the exposed top of the ridge.
It was not so bad while we were moving, but with a brigade in single
file and a good many obstructions on the track, the rear of the column
sometimes had to halt for half an hour while those in front negotiated
some specially rough or slippery place.

Up till midnight there were fair intervals, and we kept on getting wet
and then drying again; but midnight found us quite near our old camp
at Q 20 central, fully exposed to a gale and torrents of rain.

The battalion in front of us had to descend the steep and slippery
side of the Wadi Selman, which was just like a mud slide, and we had
to stand at the top for more than half an hour. The length of the
descent was only about 500 yards, and in the daylight and when it was
dry fatigue parties and even camels used to get down in about ten
minutes, but now, what with the rain and the passage of the unit in
front of us, it had become indescribably slippery. Men were falling
down every few yards, and the mules were not much better. It took two
hours for the Battalion to cover this 500 yards.

Wishing each other a very happy Christmas, we started on the last
stage of our journey along the bottom of the wadi, which was almost a
river, to our pitch in the Wadi Zait. We sat there till dawn—sleep
was out of the question—and then started everyone on physical drill
to get up some circulation. By this time we knew that the camels and
donkeys were both—in the language of the country—“mafisch” (which is
the same as “nahpoo”), and also that the wheeled transport, which
could not come across country as we had done, was not due till the
afternoon. Even then it was unlikely that they would bring any food,
as their proper load was Lewis gun stuff and ammunition. One can
realise what disaster had overtaken even the best arrangements, when
even Brigade H.Q., with a whole staff captain to look after them,
hadn’t so much as a crust for breakfast. The Brigadier, however, was
as cheery as ever, and almost as soon as it was light he was up in our
lines cracking jokes with everyone he met, and asking “are we
downhearted,” to which he got the usual roar as answer. It really
never stopped raining all day, and never again it is to be hoped will
any of us spend another Christmas like it. By superhuman efforts some
few ration donkeys were persuaded along by their drivers, and arrived
that night, but what they carried was only a small part of a ration.
Our hopes were fixed on the wheeled transport, which had brought their
loads of guns and ammunition, and had gone back to Kubeibe, to which
half-way house our camel loads were being brought by the wheeled
transport of the rest of the Division, who were not taking such a
leading part in the coming stunt.

Next day, the 26th, was spent in reconnaissance by company officers
who had not already done one, and in pow-wows at Brigade, at which
were decided the final details and also the scheme under which the “B”
teams were to undertake the carrying forward of ammunition and bombs
in rear of the advance. Each battalion left behind some half dozen
officers and about 50 men, so there was quite a fair number available
for the work. Our spirits rose rapidly that day, partly owing to the
prospect of something doing, partly because of a marked improvement in
the weather, but chiefly on account of the arrival of rations in
satisfying quantities, which allowed of a huge feed before we had to
start at about 10.30 P.M. There was a nice moon, and our march in
single file up the Wadi Zait to Foka was quite uneventful, and we got
a pleasant surprise when we topped the crest and found that, by pure
luck, we had struck a small footpath—the only one for miles, we
afterwards discovered—which made the descent beautifully easy and
comparatively silent. With some diffidence we made for what we
thought was our map reference, and found to our joy, that we were
exactly right. Our “perch,” as really it should be called, was on
numerous ledges on the face of a very steep cliff, and it was a
lengthy business getting the Battalion arranged with its different
companies respectively in their right places; but by 4 A.M. we were
all snug like gannets on the Bass Rock, and quite easy in our minds,
except for the uncertainty as to whether dawn would discover the place
to be under Turkish machine-gun fire. This was pretty important, as we
were not to attack until 8 A.M., so there was time for a very
uncomfortable two or three hours before we could start. However, dawn
broke, and all was quiet, and we were able to have our breakfast
undisturbed just about the time the Turks must have been attacking
down the Nablus-Jerusalem road.

The first attack was to be led by the Ayr and Lanarks on the right,
who were to scale the salient spur running up to their objective—Kh.
Mahmeh, and by the Somersets on the left, who were to advance up the
spur which led in a N.E. direction to Sh. Abu-el-Zeitun, which was
their objective. We, in close support, and the Devons in reserve, were
to follow the left battalion. This plan was adopted to avoid having to
advance up the re-entrant which was too dangerous.

At 8 A.M. the advance started. Our position was in close support, and
the chief difficulty was to prevent the leading lines from going too
fast, and getting mixed up with the battalion in front. By 9 A.M. the
ridge was taken with a nice little bunch of prisoners, and very few
casualties to us. The face, up which we had advanced, was so steep
that the defenders could not get a really good shot at us, except in
certain places; but the Somersets and ourselves had to slide to the
east side of the spur, as we were being heavily fired at by machine
guns from the direction of Kh. Kereina.

Our programme now was to turn east and sweep along the Zeitun Ridge,
but this depended, to some extent, on how the 10th Division were
getting on to our left. We were intended to be in advance of them, but
not more than a mile or so or we should get it too badly from the
flank. They had not expected us to get Zeitun much before 11 A.M., so
we were ahead of time, and the brigade on our left must have been a
bit late, as it was some time before they were visible at all, and
then they were some three miles behind. We sat all day on the safer
side of the crest, watching a stubbornly contested battle being fought
on Hill 2450, which was taken and lost more than once, and in getting
shelled continually by field guns. They did not hit many, but, as bad
luck would have it, they got our adjutant, Captain W.D. Brown, as
game a fellow as ever walked, and he was carried off evidently very
badly hit, and died that night in the dressing-station. We were not at
the time in touch with Brigade, but the brigade-major was over on the
ridge with us, so we had to get out orders for the further advance.

It was our Battalion’s turn to lead, and we went for the main
objective, the Hill of Shafa, at the extreme end of the ridge about
one and a half miles away. The Ayrs and Lanarks were sent to seize a
hill on our right, another to maintain touch with the 10th Division on
our left (we were responsible as far as the W. Sunt), and the fourth
in support of us. We started the advance just after dark, and all went
well until we had almost reached the objective. One could see the
other battalion in the moonlight on the crest of the lesser hill to
our right, and we were ourselves about half way up Shafa, when we
suddenly bumped right into the Turk. Both sides were rather taken by
surprise, and our men at all events were thoroughly excited and firing
wildly in the dark without much chance of hitting anything. There was
a natural rock face about 8 feet deep right across the face of the
hill, and only about two spots where it could be climbed, and this
held us up for some time. The Turk began to try to work round the
flanks and the situation was looking rather unpleasant, especially as
we were wasting, at a great rate, ammunition which might be badly
wanted next day, the Lewis guns expending thousands.

However, shortly before midnight, the excitement calmed down a bit,
and we managed to get up the rock face on to a sort of false crest,
and scouts, sent out to the front, reported that the Turk had cleared
right off the whole hill. Two platoons advanced and occupied the
farther crest and then we settled down to get what rest we could
though it was too cold to sleep, and a good many spent most of the
night walking up and down to keep warm. We found next day that our
ammunition had not been entirely wasted, as there were a lot of dead
Turks and quantities of rifles and machine-gun equipment left behind
when they retreated. Our casualties that night were 2 officers and 7
other ranks killed, and 22 other ranks wounded, 3 of whom died of
wounds.

In the morning we expected orders to advance, but as soon as we could
use our glasses we found that we were far ahead of our neighbours, and
were, in fact, enfiladed from the Turkish positions on our left.
Fortunately we could get into cover by going about 100 yards round the
hill, but rations and supplies had to come across about 80 yards of
open, under machine-gun fire, and it was a marvel that no one was hit.
It was impossible to get out in front to see our next objective, as
the Turks had us well marked and machine guns opened on anyone who
exposed himself. We had the Brigade-Major with us, but were again out
of touch with Brigade, and Lieut.-Colonel Younger was again tackling
the dispositions for the next advance, when the Brigadier himself rode
up, very nearly getting sniped as he trotted in. After telling us
exactly what he thought of us for having chosen such an exposed place
for our headquarters, he got out his orders for the assault of
Beitania. There was really no choice as to who should go first this
time, as there was no time to reshuffle units, and they just had to go
over in the order in which they were at the time disposed.

This made us right leading battalion—objective Beitania—with the
Ayrs and Lanarks in close support. The left leading battalion—the
Somersets—were to make for Hill 500 about three-quarters of a mile
north of Beitania. The Devons were to advance in close support of the
Somersets, and we were given the K.S.L.I. from the 231st Brigade to
remain in reserve on Shafa, where Brigade H.Q. also remained. The left
battalion also had El Muntar as a further objective, so that the
Brigade, when finished, would be on a line running north and south to
the Wadi Kelt. We knew we should get a warm reception going over the
crest, as there were quite a number of machine guns in the village
and they were all laid on the crest. They also put over a lot of
shells while we were preparing to start but did not do much damage.

We got off the mark at 2 P.M. in four waves, and went at record speed
to the bottom of the ravine. One could hardly have believed that men
carrying Lewis guns could have covered the ground so fast. In this
case it was our salvation, as we not only got over before the whole of
the machine guns had got properly going, but most of the shelling also
fell behind us. Once in the bottom we were quite safe from the machine
guns, and nearly so from the artillery. As it was we reorganised for
the attack in our own time and were very soon at the edge of the
village after a precipitous climb. Here we were held up for a short
time by fire from a spur to our right. The leading Company Commander,
Captain P. Campbell, A. & L.Y., of the supporting battalion, agreed to
take his own and another company to clear this spur. This movement was
rapidly and brilliantly carried out with the desired result, and in a
very short time we were in the village and through the far side,
holding the ridge to left and right, and in touch with our left
battalion. It was not until the following morning that we began to
count the spoils, which ran to about 150 prisoners, including a
battalion commander and nine machine guns. We buried about 80 Turks,
and there were a good many in odd places that we didn’t find at the
time. That night we took up an outpost line east of the village, and
in the morning saw the 230th Brigade march across our front into Bireh
without firing a shot. So well, too, had the supply of ammunition
worked, that at the close of operations we had 50,000 rounds in
Beitania. We spent two days there clearing up the battlefield and
reorganising the companies. On the second night we were told that we
were to be taken out into reserve for a long and well-earned rest.

From St James’s Park to Beitania the Battalion had been continuously
engaged in very strenuous operations, marching, fighting, or
road-making over the roughest of country, without roads or landmarks,
up precipitous hills, through boulder-strewn wadis, against an
obstinate and determined foe, never sure of the next meal, tired
almost beyond endurance and many almost bootless, in the worst of
weather, cold and wet, and only slightly less miserable than the
camels. And the result? The capture of Jerusalem and turning of the
Turkish left flank; a loss of prestige and a military disaster from
which they never recovered. We had taken part in most difficult and
arduous fighting in most difficult and arduous country; difficult
because of the badness of the maps, which made it almost impossible to
locate one’s position or maintain touch, and arduous as only those
who know that rocky precipitous country can realise. For artillery it
was practically impossible, and though they did wonders in bringing
guns up over the roughest of roadless hills, the assistance they could
render the infantry was very slight. Nor are the transport or camel
leaders likely to forget that trek, and it was greatly to Mr
Drysdale’s credit that he managed to get them all safely to Kubeibeh
early on the morning of the 8th December. The heavy rains made the
Roman road almost impossible, and troops “resting” (so-called) were
turned on to road-making. The difficulty of command may be illustrated
by the fact that in marching to Beit Iksa the whole Battalion was
strung out in single file along a sheep track.

It was very largely owing to this threat on his line of retirement
that caused the evacuation of Jerusalem which was entered by our
troops on 9th December. On the 8th 1 officer and 50 other ranks had
gone to Enab to furnish guards for Jerusalem, and to this Battalion
fell the honour of supplying the first Christian guards over the holy
places in Jerusalem after a Moslem occupation of seven centuries.

Beitania, which brought the operations to a close, was quite a
brilliant piece of work. Our casualties were 1 officer and 8 other
ranks killed, and 4 officers and 40 other ranks wounded, of whom 2
subsequently died of wounds; but, as we found afterwards that Zeitun
and Beitania had both been held by picked fresh troops, whose morale
had not been tried by the continuous fighting of the November retreat,
that number could not be called excessive.

To single out individuals when everyone did so well is an invidious
task, but one cannot close an account of these operations without
mentioning the really splendid work of Lieut.-Colonel Younger, Captain
H.S. Sharp, and Captain W.D. Brown, also of Lieutenant R.A. Andrew,
whose energy and determination in bringing up rations and ammunition
over the most Godforsaken country, cannot be too highly praised.

The news of the previous night proved to be correct, and the Battalion
moved off from Beitania about 9 A.M. on New Year’s Day down the Wadi
Sunt. The Wadi Sunt was by far the most attractive wadi we had yet
struck, being steep sided, and on the south side especially clothed
not only with the usual olive tree, but also with many sorts of
creepers and wild flowers which we had not seen before. The whole side
rose in terraces, and from almost every terrace, overhanging on to the
one below, was a very pretty dark leaved creeper, which was at the
time in full bloom with clusters of creamy coloured flowers which
looked as if they were made of wax, and the ledges were carpeted with
various wild flowers, mostly cyclamen and anemone. A mile or two took
us to the junction of the Wadis Sunt and Imaish, where we were within
a few hundred yards of the ledges where we had perched before taking
Zeitun Ridge, and there it began to rain in torrents. We continued
down the Sunt until we came to a rough path, made more or less
possible for traffic by the 10th Division, which led up to
Beit-ur-el-Tahta, in the neighbourhood of which the Brigade was to
bivouac. Next day we proceeded via the Wadi Melab to Beit Sira, and so
to our rest camp at Yalo.

[Illustration: Operations in PALESTINE 1917–18
_To face page_ 106]




CHAPTER V

PALESTINE—1918


From 4th January to 14th March when we went into the line at Khan Abu
Felah, we were employed continuously on road-making. The great
difficulty experienced in bringing supplies forward over the roadless
mountainous country, impassable to motors and often even to camels and
mules, made road-making an absolute necessity before any further
advance could take place. The only metalled roads were the
Jerusalem-Nablus road, running north from Jerusalem, and the
Jerusalem-Jaffa road, running west and north-west, passing Latron
about four miles from our camp at Yalo. The rest were mere donkey
tracks over cultivated unbottomed ground in the valleys, and winding
up wadis, over boulders, and through trees in the uplands and hills.

Yalo, the ancient Ajalon, a city of the tribe of Dan, was our camp
till 24th February. Brigade H.Q. were at the head of the next wadi to
us, and below them the Devons and Somersets, while we occupied the
other side of the ridge with the 229th Field Ambulance beyond us. The
Ayrs and Lanarks were in a separate camp at Amwas. When we arrived we
found a rocky barren hill—when we left, it was almost a garden city.
The only “houses” were Battalion H.Q. and the kitchens, but every two
or three had built a home for themselves out of stones and mud, roofed
with waterproof sheets, while JOCK’S LODGE, a company sergeants’ mess,
was quite an architectural triumph. Paths lined with stones ran in all
directions, and almost every “villa” had its little garden of wild
flowers, chiefly scarlet anemones transplanted from the wadi. Below us
was the Valley of Ajalon, where Joshua defeated the kings of the
Amorites and the moon was stayed, a rich fertile plain stretching to
the hills which circled it on three sides. North-east we could see
nestling in the hills the two Beth Horons, and south of us lay the
picturesque capital of the tribe of Dan.

While we were still settling down we sent 4 officers and 200 other
ranks daily on road-making fatigue, but later on the entire battalion
was turned on to repair the road from Latron to Beit Sara. At the same
time Captain Andrew was busy with a large class teaching the Lewis gun
to officers and men, Mr Scott’s flags “spoke” from every knoll, and Mr
Gall smartened the backward squad on the drill-ground below. We had
quite a good rifle range, and quite a fair football field, and life
was really very pleasant.

On 18th February Lieut.-Colonel Younger rejoined us. He had gone off
to Cairo on leave where he was seized by Dr Tuke and put to bed in the
Citadel.

We had now pretty well completed our road, so on the 24th we left our
comfortable camp and marched six miles to our new bivouac area in an
olive grove just north of Beit Sira. We had to make a new road to link
up with the Ram Allah road at Tattenham Corner. It was a most
picturesque wadi covered with olive trees, and what was more important
with any amount of stones suitable for road-making just at hand. On
the Latron-Beit Sira road stones were scarce and had to be man-handled
in limbers or baskets often quite a distance, but here were stones of
every size within a few yards of the road. It was a 16–foot road
bottomed with large stones, then two layers of smaller stones and
blinded with gravel. Everyone went at it like a schoolboy on holiday,
and we completed our road two days before scheduled time, on one
occasion actually doing 1½ yards of road per man.

On 5th March we left our camp going by our newly completed road to
Tattenham Corner, into the Wadi Ain Arik, and up the Wadi Sad to our
halting place not far from the village of Ain Arik. We were now
campaigning again and our baggage was cut down to the bare
establishment, with one notable exception—oatmeal. We had arranged
for a regular supply from home to start as soon as we went abroad, and
though we were often short of many things we always had our oatmeal.
Our supplies had accumulated while we had been in the hills, and we
now found ourselves with about 30 cwt. for which there was no room on
the transport. This we were absolutely determined not to lose, so we
sent it on ahead about ten miles and dumped it in a wadi with a couple
of men to look after it.

Next day we continued our journey through Ain Arik, where a friendly
brass band played us past with “Bonnie Dundee” till just below the top
of the pass at Kefr Skeyan, where we rested for the afternoon as we
might not cross the skyline in daylight. This resulted in a most
tedious night march, finishing in pitch darkness over very rough going
with a bad bivouac area at the end of it. Next morning we were
surprised to find ourselves by the side of a small lake—Lake
Baluah—shallow and muddy, but welcome as giving water for the animals
quite close to their lines. Road-making near Ram Allah was the order
of the day, and one company anyhow found the return journey not
without its excitement. A Taube dived at them and opened fire at very
close range, but fortunately their aim was distinctly bad, and it was
our nervous system only that suffered.

[Illustration: BATTALION BIVOUAC, NEAR SUFFA.
_To face page 110_]

[Illustration: THE IRISH ROAD CROSSING THE WADI AIN ARIK.
_To face page 110_]

We were now only a few miles behind the line, and though our
Brigade was only to be in support for the next advance the C.O. and
Company Commanders climbed Sheikh Abdullah, from which a good view of
the surrounding country could be obtained. This was an easy climb, but
the view from here showed us that the next advance would be no picnic
even if the country alone had to be overcome. Ridge upon ridge faced
us, rising higher and higher to the horizon about six miles away where
Burj Lisaneh stood up like a sugar-loaf, while to our half-right
steepish slopes covered with fig trees, not yet in leaf, rose up to
the heights of Tel Asur 3318 feet high. In all this country there was
but one road which wound its way among the hills towards Nablus (the
ancient Shechem) and the north. There were a few miles of road up as
far as Beitin (the Bethel of the Bible), but there it stopped short,
which meant that the 53rd Division on our right would have to do their
advance without any road at all; but we had all done without roads
before, and no doubt we should do equally well again. However, we had
now completed a road through from Latron to Ram Allah and the Nablus
road, so that a further advance was possible as supplies could now be
brought up. The corps had been more or less stationary across the
Jerusalem-Nablus road for six or seven weeks, though there had been a
lot of activity on the eastern flank towards Jericho.

On 8th March B Company (Captain D.D. Ogilvie) started off to report to
the gunners near Ain Yebrud and make the track passable for the
artillery as far as Selwad on the far side of Tel Asur. The track was
a dry river bed between two very thick walls most of the way, and
where it was impassable a track had to be made across country, which
meant cutting down trees and levelling terraces. Though there was
about five miles of road to prepare, so well did they work at it that
they were actually working on the road in front of the supports before
Tel Asur was finally captured, and the guns were able to move forward
that night.

Meanwhile the other three companies had gone up the Nablus road to
repair it, as it had not only been heavily shelled by our artillery
but also blown up in a great many places by the retreating Turks. The
enemy were offering a stout resistance to our advance, and held a
strong line across the road. Tel Asur was captured and lost three
times before it finally remained in our hands, and it was not until 1
P.M. that our line was sufficiently far forward for us to proceed to
Ain Sinia for road repair. Even then the road was being so heavily
shelled that we had to make our way by side paths and across country.
We were busy road-repairing for the next day or two, and officers were
reconnoitring forward to see the lie of the country which we were to
take over.

On 14th March we moved on again, halting behind the skyline for the
midday meal while the C.O. and Company Commanders went on to see the
line we were to take over. It had been a rough journey. The tracks
were positively heart breaking. The usual pattern was 4 to 6 feet wide
with stout drystone walls on either side; the “pathway” being over
rough and uneven rocks with an occasional boulder, and here and there
the walls had collapsed completely, blocking the track—or else over
cultivated soil which was immediately converted into a muddy morass of
uncertain depth. On such paths only single file was possible, and pack
mules and donkeys had to be almost carried over some of the places.
But the worst was yet to come, and though we were not intended to go
down into the Wadi Kolah by day as it was in full view to the Turkish
artillery, the track down was so bad the C.O. wisely preferred risking
a shell or two to certain suicide going down in the dark. A mist
helped us, and we got down unmolested and had taken over the new line
by 5 P.M. The track down into the wadi was so steep and slippery from
the rain that donkeys were actually lowered down in some places by
their tails.

The line we took over was a long one—about two and a half
miles—previously held by nine companies of the 159th and 160th
Brigades (53rd Division). There were three mountains with steep wadis
in between, and each company was given a hill which formed an isolated
post. Touch even between companies was very difficult to maintain at
night, and touch with the units on either flank was found impossible
and had to be abandoned. So sketchy was our line that we sometimes
discovered in the morning a miserable Turk or Arab well inside our
lines trying to desert but finding no one to whom to surrender. When
“captured” their joy was complete. Miserable, half-starved, ill-clad
wretches, conscripted to fight for a nation they loathed and feared.

D Company (Captain J. M’Nab) held the Round Hill on the right and a
platoon of A Company held the village of Khan Abu Felah. C Company
(Captain I.C. Nairn) held the centre hill and B Company (Captain D.D.
Ogilvie) were on the left holding a “hog’s back” known as Fusilier
Ridge, and the wadi on either side. A Company (Captain Sir W.A.A.
Campbell) were in reserve at Battalion H.Q. Later A Company relieved D
Company, and D and C Companies moved a hill to their left, while B
came into reserve. Our horses, mules, and donkeys were with us, but
camels could not negotiate the steep slopes and remained on the high
ground above us along with the wheeled transport.

Our stay here was uneventful. The Turks shelled us regularly but
without doing much damage, and we sent over one or two patrols every
night, but there was no great activity on either side. On 22nd March a
company of the Ayrs and Lanarks (Captain P. Campbell) carried out a
most successful raid on the isolated hill Amurieh opposite B Company.
Mr Cruickshank with 12 men from his platoon held White Hill, a small
intermediate knoll, and covered the advance, returning when the raid
started. Fully 100 prisoners were taken, with the loss of only one or
two wounded. At the same time we made a demonstration from Kent Hill,
firing off rifle grenades and rifles, which drew a lot of fire from
the raiding party on Amurieh.

On 7th April the enemy attempted a bombing raid on A Company’s hill,
but it was a halfhearted affair, and they were easily driven off and a
few casualties inflicted.

We had two or three days of very heavy rain just after we took over,
which made life very miserable for the outpost companies on the hill
tops, and especially for the mule leaders who had to make the journey
up and down that perilous wadi with rations and water at least once
and sometimes twice a day, and then wade through the mud to the
companies. The rain, however, helped them, as it gave us water close
at hand which was excellent for cooking and washing purposes. On the
whole, however, the weather was glorious, and the wild flowers were a
great joy to us all.

After we had done a fortnight in the line we were to have been
relieved by another battalion in the Brigade when news came through
that the whole Division was to be relieved and march to Railhead,
which was now at Ludd. This, combined with a memo, which said “All
units XX. Corps except 74th Division will indent for shorts
forthwith,” made it quite clear that we were bound for France, and so
it proved.

On 9th April we were relieved by the 2/4 R.W.F. (53rd Division), and
bivouacked that night at our transport lines on the shoulder of Tel
Asur. Next day the Brigade marched via Beitin to Bireh and bivouacked
just west of Ram Allah. The following day we went down the Ain Arik
road to Tattenham Corner, along the road we ourselves had made to our
bivouac area, near the old Devon Camp below Suffa.

On 12th April we made Amwas, and next day after a long and dusty march
we reached our destination Ludd. We spent a busy day there drawing
stores from Ordnance and returning things for which we had no further
use. H.Q. and B Company entrained that evening, and the remainder the
following morning, and we all got to Kantara that night, or very early
on the morning of the 16th.

We were at Kantara just a fortnight, during which time we were
disinfected and refitted, put through gas and exercised in field days
on the desert. We had never been allowed to draw clothing in
Palestine after Yalo as we were on the waiting list for France, and
when we arrived at Kantara we were a most disreputable looking
crowd—clothing patched and torn, garments showing where they should
never be seen, and boots in some cases almost without soles at all.
But when we marched out we were clad once more in new tunics, new
trousers, and new boots, and looked very smart.

The transport left on 19th April under Mr J. Drysdale, and the
Battalion followed on the 29th, reaching Alexandria early next
morning, and embarking at once on H.M.T. _Indarra_. Brigade H.Q. were
with us. Lieut.-Colonel Younger was O.C. troops, and Mr R. Colthart,
ship’s adjutant.

We left Alexandria on 1st May, and so bade good-bye to Egypt and the
East after a sojourn there of over two and a half years. We had all
had a great experience, at times very strenuous and unpleasant, but on
the whole interesting and not too bad. Our fighting had been almost
entirely open warfare, for which as yeomanry we were well adapted, and
which contrasted very favourably with the trench warfare on the
Western Front. But few were sorry to go. None of us anticipated
Allenby’s triumphant drive to Damascus, and felt we would be “doing
our bit” more effectively on the Western Front where we well knew the
final decision rested. But what counted much more was relief at
escaping another hot, dusty, thirsty summer in the East, and the
change to the civilisation and comparative comfort of France, and of
course most of all to the proximity of Blighty, and the prospect of
leave home. Though short local leave had not been so difficult to
obtain, home leave, owing to the difficulty of transportation, had
been very much restricted, and the great majority had never been home
since coming out.

We had a very good trip to Marseilles. The captain laid himself out to
make everything as comfortable as possible; the feeding was excellent,
plenty of cabin accommodation for officers and N.C.O.’s, and the men
were as comfortable as they ever can be in a crowded troopship. There
were seven ships in the convoy which was escorted by British
destroyers as far as Malta, and there relieved by Japanese destroyers
who took us in safely to Marseilles. There was only one piece of
excitement on the fourth day out. A destroyer sighted a submarine,
rushed ahead at great speed and dropped a couple of depth charges.
Nothing more was seen of the submarine, and we proceeded on our
journey uninterrupted.




CHAPTER VI

FRANCE—1918


On disembarking at Marseilles on 7th May we opened a new chapter in
the history of the Regiment. The contrast from the East was indeed
marked and delightful, and the long train journey passed quickly in
our joy at seeing once more green fields and green trees, villages,
and farms, long fair hair and fair complexions. We could hardly have
had more beautiful scenery than we had during the first day through
the south of France. We kept to the branch lines to the west of the
main Rhone Valley line, and wound in and out all day at the foot of
steep hills crowned with old castles and picturesque villages which
looked so peaceful that it was hard to realise that there was a war
on. The second day saw us skirting Paris by Juvisy, and gave us a good
view of Versailles and the numerous airships at St Cyr. The last day
our route lay chiefly through water meadows, and by 9.30 we had
reached our detraining station—Noyelles—whence after a hot breakfast
we marched ten miles to our destination—St Firmin near the mouth of
the Somme. Our transport had already been here about a week, and we
found excellent quarters in the long straggling village.

Here we spent ten days, being fitted out with gas helmets, and passed
through gas, a form of warfare of which we had had no practical
experience out East, and in bayonet fighting also, under experts who
found we had not very much to learn in that line. Our number of Lewis
guns were doubled, and we started lots of classes of new Lewis gunners
to form the new gun crews and provide a large nucleus of trained men
as reinforcements. Our transport establishment was also completed
here. We entrained at Rue early on the morning of the 21st, and made
our way via Etaples and St Pol to Ligny St Flochel, whence we had a
long fifteen miles march to Humbercourt. That night we had our first
experience of night bombing. From here several senior officers went
for a day or two’s experience of trench life to a New Zealand Division
in the Hebuterne sector north of Albert.

On the 25th May we moved to a very much better area at Grand
Rullecourt where we stayed for just a month. Here there were much
better facilities for training, and we worked away steadily at wood
fighting, fighting through crops, co-operation with tanks, and all the
while paying special attention to the Lewis-gun personnel. We also
gave an exhibition of the attack in open warfare, for the edification
of the Canadians who were in the neighbourhood, and put in a good
deal of musketry at the rifle ranges, and throwing and firing
grenades. We had quite a good field for football, and had an
inter-platoon competition, won by No. 6 platoon, but the great event
was the defeat of the Scots Guards by the Battalion team. The Scots
Guards were the winners of the Bull Dog Cup at the Crystal Palace, and
had only once been beaten, and to defeat them 2–0 was a great
achievement.

The Ayr and Lanark Battalion of the R.S.F. left us here to form a new
brigade along with the 12th (Norfolk Yeomanry) Battalion; the Norfolk
Regiment from the 230th Brigade, and the 24th (Denbigh Yeomanry)
Battalion; the Royal Welsh Fusiliers from the 231st Brigade. We were
all very depressed at the departure of the Ayrs and Lanarks. We had
been together close friends and keen rivals on the football field ever
since we had been made into an infantry battalion, and though we all
knew that the Brigade was sure to be reduced from four to the normal
French establishment of three battalions, we had somehow never
contemplated parting from our special friends, the only other Scotch
battalion in the Division.

Spanish influenza, which was so prevalent everywhere, now began to
attack us, and when we left Grand Rullecourt on 26th June, as we had
about nine miles to march to our entraining station Ligny, 150 were
considered unfit to march, and had to come on by motor lorry the
following day. This was an excellent arrangement, as it enabled us to
keep on the men who we knew would be quite fit again in a day or two,
instead of sending them to hospital, and probably to another
battalion. Fortunately it was a mild type, the patient being
completely knocked out for a day or two and then rapidly recovering,
but it left us all pretty weak for a bit. We detrained at Aire, and
though we had only another four miles to go to our billets at Fontes,
it was quite enough for anyone with a touch of the “’flu.” From here
parties went out every day to reconnoitre the various lines in the
Robecq-St Venant sector, and to get to know the country before we were
told to take over the line.

We left Fontes with practically all our invalids cured after a
fortnight’s stay, and moved on to Ham en Artois, only a few miles
farther east, where we became Divisional Reserve, our Division having
taken over a sector of the line in the Lys area. Here we carried on
our company and specialist training while parties reconnoitred
forward, and after twelve days in reserve we again made a short move
forward on 23rd July to La Pierriere where we became Brigade Reserve,
the Brigade having the other two battalions now in the line. This was
a strenuous business, as not only had we to provide small working
parties by day and guards over about eleven bridges over the Aire-La
Bassée Canal, but we had also to supply 100 men per company each night
to dig in the support line, which meant very hard work for both
company officers and men, and it was with relief that we saw our eight
days finished, and moved ourselves into the line. It was not that the
digging was such hard or jumpy work, but the fact that it took two
hours to get there and two more to come back, which made it such a
trying business. There were very few casualties, though B Company had
a lucky escape. A shell landed right in the middle of them and wounded
thirteen, five of whom had to go to hospital, while the other eight
asked to remain on duty, fearing lest, if they went to hospital, they
might be posted to another battalion.

On the night of 31st July/1st August, we took over the right
sub-sector of the line from the Somersets, and were lucky in having to
keep only one company in the line. This front line consisted of a
series of posts, each held by a section and built up as a breastwork,
trenches being impossible. The Noc and Clarence Rivers sluggishly
meandered through our line, and even in summer the water level was
only about nine inches below the surface. Behind these posts was a
semi-continuous support line, and half a mile farther back a
continuous main line, fairly well complete as to wire and parapet,
but hardly anything in the way of parados, so there was plenty of work
for everyone. D Company (Captain R.A. Andrew) held the front line with
their H.Q. at Baquerolles Farm, A and B Companies were in support, and
C back at Robecq in reserve. Battalion H.Q. were at Carvin Farm.
Frequent patrols were sent out, and the Bosche paid us a certain
amount of attention both with high explosives and gas, and at night
turned on his machine guns along the routes by which rations came up,
but at no time could it have been called anything but a quiet sector.

We had been six days in the line when about four o’clock in the
afternoon word came from the battalion on the left that the enemy were
massing in front. Captain Andrew at once sent out officers’ patrols
who discovered no signs of the enemy, so he took his company forward
and occupied the German trenches, and by evening held a line about
half a mile farther forward. It was now evident that the enemy
intended evacuating the salient which our gunners had made so
unpleasant for him for some time past, and by nightfall our whole line
was moving forward. To D Company fell the distinction of initiating
the advance on the whole corps’ front, and then B Company passed
through them and advanced the line to Rues des Vaches Farm. So rapid
had been our advance that a party of Germans, still under the
impression that they were behind their own lines, bumped right into a
section of Mr Wood’s platoon in a “grouse butt.” On being challenged,
the Bosche sergeant-major called out, “Welche Kompanie ist das?”
(which company is that?) which seemed to annoy one Jock who replied
“Welsh Company be damned. Take that, you ——, it’s the Black Watch
you’re up against this time.” Their carelessness cost them five
killed, including the sergeant-major, and twice as many wounded.

Next day we advanced to just beyond the Quentin Road, meeting with
practically no opposition, and later A Company (Mr C.G. Duncan) passed
through B, and advanced to the Turbeauté River. The Bosche guns were
very busy all day, and considering the number of shells they threw
over us and our lack of any cover, we were lucky in having as few
casualties as we did. We had a good deal of gas in our area and on the
main road, and the following day after a short but severe
trench-mortar bombardment they attacked one of our posts on the
Turbeauté River which repulsed them at the point of the bayonet. That
night we were relieved by the 15th Battalion, the Suffolk Regiment
(230th Brigade); our relief was managed quite successfully, and we
went back into support at Robecq, with garrisons in the main line of
the Amusoires trench system.

Only very short parade hours and daily bathes in the Lys or La Bassée
Canals made this a delightful week. We were asked for no digging
parties, and the only fatigue—which the men thoroughly enjoyed—was
harvesting under Mr H. Adamson’s supervision.

On 16th August we moved a few miles farther back across the Canal to
La Miquellerie where we had as good billets as we had seen in France.
Up to now we had received a few kilts of the large size only, so we
had only a few of the biggest men fitted out, and drill order was
always trousers. On getting to Miquellerie we found a huge assortment
of kilts awaiting us, and the sergeant-tailor (Sergeant Ferguson) had
two hectic days fitting the Battalion for the Divisional Church Parade
in a field between La Miquellerie and Ham en Artois. The Army
Commander, General Sir Wm. Birdwood, was present, and after the
service he gave us a most inspiring address, and saw us march past him
in fours as we left the field. The two following days were devoted to
a detailed inspection by the Corps Commander, Lieut.-General Sir R.
Haking, who seemed favourably impressed and made some very
complimentary remarks.

On the 24th we moved up into support relieving the 25th R.W.F. The
Battalion was disposed in two halves supporting the right and left
battalions respectively—A and C Companies at Quentin and B and D
Companies in front of Calonne with Battalion H.Q. After spending
three quiet days here we were relieved by the 2/6th Battalion D.L.I.
(59th Division), and marched back to Molinghem where our transport had
been all the time. B Company left that afternoon, and the rest of the
Battalion entrained next day on a tactical train for the Somme. We had
a very slow journey, and arrived at La Houssoye about midnight and
found our billets there. On 31st August the B Team moved to the
Divisional Reception Camp at Franvillers, and about midday we got
sudden orders to proceed to near Franvillers where buses would be
awaiting us. We went by bus to a farm a couple of miles west of
Maricourt, dumped our packs there and reached our destination Le Foret
about midnight, where to our joy we were run to earth by the transport
with rations and ammunition.

Next day, 1st September, was spent in reconnaissance towards
Bouchavesnes, out of which the Bosche had been pushed that morning. At
7.30 P.M. we set out for the position of deployment east of
Bouchavesnes, and were met by guides who conducted us by the longest
possible route over the worst country they could find, and it was 3
A.M. before the relief of the 2/4th London Regiment was complete and
our men in the assembly trenches. Zero hour was 5.30 A.M., at which
time it was barely light and rather misty. The first objective was the
system of trenches (Opera and Monastir Trenches) on the far side of
the Canal Du Nord, the second objective the strong system of trenches
half way up the slope, and the final objective the crest of the ridge
south of Nurlu Village, a good four miles away. We were to advance
across the Tortille River keeping Moislains on our left, across the
Canal and then swing north-east and push on to the high ground. This
meant squeezing through a narrow neck between Moislains and Allaines
and then after we were through the neck, changing direction and
extending our front to almost double.

After the preliminary bombardment and following the creeping barrage
the Brigade moved forward—the Somersets leading on the right with
ourselves following. The Devons were to mop up the village of
Moislains, and once clear of the village we were to come up on the
left of the Somersets and take the first objective. The barrage fell a
long way ahead of us and left untouched a party of the enemy holding
the trench immediately in front of us. This delayed us but for a
moment, but the Somersets were having a good deal of trouble from the
direction of Allaines which had to be dealt with and this took them
and us more to our right than we should have been. The advance was
again momentarily held up by heavy machine-gun fire on the Canal, but
pushing on in most gallant style the leading companies got across all
right and up the slope, driving the Bosche out of the wooden huts at
the point of the bayonet and accounting for a great many at the same
time. So far the advance had gone splendidly. The first objective had
been taken, and the advance begun towards the second when murderous
machine-gun fire was opened upon us from the left and left rear. The
battalion of Londoners on our left north of Moislains had withdrawn,
the village of Moislains itself was never mopped up, and the eight
Bosche machine guns holding Moislains seeing this moved quickly to the
south of the village and opened on our backs. In addition to this we
were being subjected to very heavy fire on our left flank, which was
now completely in the air, and we could actually see their gun teams
working the 77’s on the crest of the ridge. The Bosche had paid us the
compliment of rushing up his best troops to meet our Division, and
certainly the Alpini Corps were most gallant fighters. To advance
unsupported was out of the question, and our casualties were by now
very heavy, so there was nothing left but to withdraw to the west side
of the Canal again and reorganise the remains of the companies. Next
day we pushed forward to the trenches south of Moislains and to the
Slag Heap on the canal bank, and at dusk on the evening of the 4th we
were relieved by the 19th Battalion London Regiment and marched back
to rest and reorganise.

Our casualties had been heavy—the C.O. wounded; of the four Company
Commanders Captain R.W. Stewart and Captain I.C. Nairn had been killed
and Captain J. M’Nab and Mr C.G. Duncan wounded. Mr Darney was killed
and C.S.M. Aitken died of wounds—a total of 3 officers and 38 other
ranks killed and 14 officers and 157 other ranks wounded. The
Battalion got great praise for its gallant performance that day, and
though the attack was apparently unsuccessful we had advanced farther
than the authorities had expected, and, moreover, had the pleasure of
seeing the 230th Brigade, who passed through us, make good about six
miles without firing a shot—a peace march, which as Brig.-General
Hoare was at pains to point out was entirely due to the offensive
spirit of the 229th Brigade.

We were given a day and a half in which to rest and reorganise and
then off again on the retreating Bosche. Just as we were leaving we
heard that Mr J.C. Drysdale had been hit by a shell which landed right
at the mouth of his bivouac, at least six miles behind the line. In
him we lost a most efficient and hard-working transport officer. After
a night at Aizecourt and another at Longavesnes we were again in the
line relieving the 25th (Montgomery and Welsh Horse Yeomanry)
Battalion Welsh Regiment in the left sector of the divisional front
holding the horse-shoe line of trenches round St Emilie, with
Battalion H.Q. behind the railway embankment between Villers Faucon
and St Emilie. A Company of the Somersets was attached to us to help
to hold the long length of this salient. They linked up with the
Devons on our right, while on our left and considerably to our rear
was the 58th Division. We had about one and a half miles of half-dug
trench to hold with less than 400 men all told. They were probably the
worst sited trenches in France, with no field of fire and not
continuous, completely dominated by the German guns at Epehy, who
could fire down them, and by snipers who, by crawling through the
thistles and broken country on our left rear (and the Alpini were bold
snipers and deadly shots), could fire right up some portions of the
trench. The salient held by the 74th Division was considerably in
advance of the line held by the Australians on our right and by the
Londoners on our left, and was quite an unhealthy spot until the
Bosche were pushed out of Epehy.

9th September passed fairly quietly until evening, when D Company (Mr
Brodie Brown) was sent to reconnoitre to the front, and if possible
establish themselves on the ridge on the far side of the valley in
front of us. They had got about three-quarters of the way when their
patrols reported at least two companies of the enemy going into the
trenches which D were to occupy and two strong patrols working
forward on either side of them. To push on was impossible, so they
returned to the trenches they had left. Though this merely confirmed
what we already knew—that the enemy were holding that line in
strength—and though a report was sent in to this effect, because the
Air Force had reported that they could see no signs of the enemy,
Corps ordered us to push forward at dawn next morning and occupy the
crest of the ridge. These orders were only received at 2 A.M., and
though Company Commanders were summoned at once A Company (Sergeant W.
Collier) only received his orders at dawn—the runner having missed
the way in the dark. The company of Somersets were to attack on the
right, keeping touch with the Devons, C Company (Mr I.W. Cruickshank)
in the centre, B Company (Mr J. M’Lean) on the left, with D Company
(Mr Brodie Brown) in reserve. A Company (Sergeant W. Collier) was to
keep in touch with the Londoners (58th Division) on the left and
advance in conjunction with them. The time for our barrage opening was
postponed, but the wire from Brigade never reached us and we advanced
without any preliminary bombardment. C Company and the Somersets
almost reached their objectives unobserved when they were met by very
heavy machine-gun and rifle fire. B Company on the left were unable to
push on which left C Company’s left flank exposed. Into this gap the
enemy quickly rushed fresh troops and attacked in force with the
result that the two companies were overwhelmed by numbers and nearly
surrounded. They were ordered to retire but not more than a quarter
got back.

We consequently were forced to hold our old line as a defensive line
and get liason with the 58th Division, who also found the enemy in
great strength and were unable to hold what they gained. We learned
afterwards that a regiment (three battalions) of the enemy were
holding the line between Ronssoy and Templeux le Guerard with orders
to fight to the last. The Battalion was now very exhausted, the
trenches were knee-deep in water, and a great number of Lewis guns and
rifles were out of action with mud and water. Major D.D. Ogilvie and
Mr Brodie Brown were the only officers left in the line, with Mr J.W.
Ormiston doing liaison between Battalion H.Q. and Captain R.H.
Colthart at Battle H.Q.—telephonic communication was almost
impossible as the line was broken every five minutes. We were
consequently very pleased when we were told we were to be relieved by
the 10th East Kent Regiment (230th Brigade), who took over from us
that night and we moved back to Longavenes.

Here we found a draft of twelve Black Watch officers awaiting us, and
the day was spent in cleaning ourselves. Next day (12th September) we
moved back to Templeux la Fosse, with Battalion H.Q. in the old
Prisoners of War compound and the companies in trenches. Major J.M.
M’Kenzie, Royal Scots, arrived to take over command of the Battalion
from, Major D.D. Ogilvie, and Brig.-General F.S. Thackeray (H.L.I.)
assumed command of the Brigade which Lieut.-Colonel C.J.H.
Spence-Jones, Pembroke Yeomanry, had commanded since Brig.-General R.
Hoare had been wounded. We had six restful days here and then moved up
to Faustine Quarry in reserve for the attack by the Division. A
Company (Mr P. Dane) were attached to the Somersets, who had suffered
a lot of casualties from gas.

The III. Corps continued the attack on 18th September with a view to
securing a position affording good observation on the Hindenburg line.
The 1st Australian Division co-operated on our right and the 16th
Division on our left. Against us was the 38th Division (German)
holding from Templeux le Guerard to Ronssoy.

Our divisional frontage had been reduced by nearly half, each brigade
having been responsible for about 1000 yards. The 230th (and the
Somersets) were on the right, 231st (with the Devons) on the left,
leaving only ourselves in reserve. Aided by a haze and a very
effective barrage the attack was a complete success, the first
objectives being gained by 7.45 A.M. with very few casualties and a
large bag of prisoners. On advancing over the ridge towards the second
objective A Company came under very heavy machine-gun fire from
Rifleman Post, but our artillery soon silenced that, and we were in
occupation of Rifleman Post by one o’clock—an advance of 4500 yards.
Here we consolidated, and remained till relieved by the Sussex. A
Company’s casualties were 4 killed and 25 wounded, and they had a
number of prisoners and machine guns to their credit.

[Illustration: The Divisional Boundaries for the three phases of the
advance are shown by shaded lines. The first two advances were on a
1–Brigade frontage, the third on a 2–Brigade frontage with only our
Battalion in Reserve. Opposed to us were the Alpine Corps (1st
Bavarian Jaeger Regiment and Body Infantry Regiment), with the 6th
Cavalry Division on their right and the 96th and 95th Imperial
Regiments of the 38th Division on their left.

MAP SHOWING THE TRENCH SYSTEM ON THE SOMME.
In addition to the principal trenches, use was made of all sunken
roads and belts of barbed wire stretched across the country.
_To face page 134_
Emery Walker Ltd. Sc.]

20th September was spent in salvage work on the battlefield, and at 10
P.M. we moved forward to relieve the Suffolks at Toine and Pimple
Posts—the first objectives in the attack. On the 22nd we relieved the
25th R.W.F. in the front line, and held from Carbine Trench to
Benjamin Post with A Company in support at Artaxerxes Post. The enemy
shelled the position heavily both with high explosives and gas and we
suffered some casualties.

The Division was now consolidated on the line of the second objective,
and it was obvious that the Bosche were holding the high ground,
particularly Quennet Copse and Quennemont Farm, very strongly, and it
was impossible for the tired and depleted Division to advance without
further preparation. The line held by the enemy was our old front line
of March overlooking the Bellicourt-Le Catalet section of the
Hindenburg line, and they were determined to hang on to that at all
costs. The attack on the Hindenburg line was not for us. The 74th
Division was booked for the advance further north.

On the night of the 24/25th September we were relieved by two
companies of the 106th American Battalion; got to Faustine Quarry by 5
A.M. and at 8 marched to Tincourt, where we entrained for
Villers-Bretonneux. From Villers-Bretonneux we marched to Corbie
(fifteen miles east of Amiens) and got into billets there. This was
the last we were to see of the Somme, for we were destined for another
front. That our services on the Somme front were appreciated is shown
by the following letter received by our Division from General
Rawlinson, Commanding Fourth Army, dated 28th September:—

    “_74th Division._—The 74th Division has taken a prominent part
    in the successful advance of the Fourth Army during the past
    month, and, much to my regret, has been ordered to another part
    of the British front.

    “The work of this Division during a period of severe and
    continuous fighting is worthy of the best traditions of the
    yeoman stock of Great Britain.

    “Brought to this country from a hot climate, where they took
    part in a very different method of warfare, the 74th Division
    has quickly adapted itself to the altered conditions, and has
    fought with a determination and courage which is beyond praise.

    “In the capture of AIZECOURT, DRIENCOURT, TEMPLEUX LA FOSSE,
    LONGAVESNES, VILLERS FAUCON, and TEMPLEUX LE GUERARD, the
    Division has made a name for itself which ranks with the best
    division fighting in the British Army, and I desire to offer to
    all ranks my warmest thanks for their gallantry and
    self-sacrifice.

    “In addition to the considerable area of ground gained the
    Division has captured over 1700 prisoners.

    “I greatly regret that the Division is leaving the Fourth Army,
    and in wishing all ranks every good fortune, I trust I may at
    some future time find the 74th Division once more under my
    command.”

We left Corbie early in the morning of the 28th for Mericourt where we
entrained for Berguette, reaching our destination the following
morning, whence we marched to our billeting area in Bourecq, just
south of our old billeting ground at Fontes. Here we stayed till 2nd
October when we moved by the light railway to “what was Locon.” Two
days later we were at Herlies. On the night 10/11th October the 229th
Brigade took over from the 231st Brigade, and on the 14th we moved
into the line relieving the 12th Battalion S.L.I., D Company on left,
A in centre, and B on right, with C in support in Ligny Wood. On 15th
October we occupied the railway line east of Ligny, and next day our
patrols had pushed forward to the outskirts of Haubourdin (a suburb of
Lille). On the 17th we again advanced, crossed the Haute Deule Canal,
and on reaching our final objective handed over to the 16th Devons
while we remained in support. Petit Ronchin, Ascq (on the
Lille-Tournai road), and Baisieux gave us billets for the following
nights. We were now in support to the Somersets, who carried on the
advance until held up outside Marquain. The 231st Brigade had been
withdrawn, so the Division was advancing on a one-battalion frontage.

As soon as Orcq was gained we were to pass through the Somersets and
carry on the advance. The enemy’s resistance, however, was stiffening,
and the Somersets were unable to push on. On the 22nd we took over the
line in front of Orcq, but found it impossible to patrol much to the
front owing to the heavy machine-gun fire. The trenches opposite were
well wired in and strongly manned, and the attack by B Company on the
23rd was held up within 100 yards of the objective by intense
trench-mortar and machine-gun fire and artillery barrage, and the two
platoons were compelled to withdraw to their original line after
suffering 32 casualties.

Next day we were relieved by the 10th Buffs and moved back to billets
in Baisieux, where we rested for ten days and got through an
inter-platoon football competition. On the evening of 1st November the
enemy put over a few shells, and in going to regulate the traffic into
the cellars Captain R.H. Colthart was mortally wounded. The death of
our adjutant was a great loss to the Battalion. As Sergeant Colthart
he had gone out with the Regiment to Gallipoli, was appointed
quartermaster and then adjutant, and had been with the Regiment or
Battalion in every engagement in which it had taken part, being
mentioned in dispatches. Lieutenant J.W. Ormiston succeeded him as
adjutant.

Tournai was evacuated by the Germans on 9th November. The 231st
Brigade promptly passed through it, and formed a bridgehead east of
the town with the 55th Division on their right and the 57th Division
on the left. The 230th Brigade occupied the town while we moved
forward to Lamain. Next day we marched through Tournai, and had a
tremendous reception. The skirl of the pipes and the sight of the
kilts moved the population to great enthusiasm, both vocal and
osculatory, and we had a regular triumphal procession. Our destination
was Beclers, five miles east of Tournai.

On 11th November we were continuing our advance east, and had reached
the main road just west of Frasnes, when at twenty minutes before 11
o’clock the Brigade-Major (Captain A.J.M. Tuck, M.C.) informed us that
an armistice had been signed which came in force at 11 o’clock. The
consequent halt threw our time-table out of gear, and we finally
stumbled in to our billeting area in the dark, covered with mud and
very weary.

The following day our Brigade relieved the 230th Brigade in holding
the outpost line, and we were billeted at Izieres. The inhabitants
could not do too much for us, and we were quite sorry when orders were
received on the 17th to proceed to Moustier. We had been transferred
back again into the Fifth Army. Here we rubbed up our ceremonial drill
and practised guard of honour for the King’s visit. This, however,
fell through, and on the 7th December we marched to a point on the
Leuze-Tournai road, near Barry, where His Majesty held an informal
inspection.

While at Moustier we started elementary educational training, which
was more fully developed after we moved to Grammont on 16th December.
Here our wanderings finally ceased, and demobilization commenced. We
had a most successful and sumptuous dinner on Christmas Day, the whole
N.-E. of France having been ransacked for geese and turkeys. On New
Year’s Day Lieut.-Colonel J.M. M’Kenzie went home sick, and Major D.D.
Ogilvie assumed command. Educational training in the forenoon and
sports in the afternoon was the order of the day, and everyone looked
forward to demobilization and Blighty once more.

After defeating the K.S.L.I, in the semi-final we met the M.G.C. in
the final for the Divisional Cup on 22nd January, whom we beat 3–0.
Considering we had only four of the original team left it was all the
more creditable that we managed to pull it off. Major-General E.S.
Girdwood, C.B., presented a very beautiful silver cup and medals to
the winning team, and Battalion medals were also sent to all members
of the team. For the Divisional Cup our record was:—Played 6: won 5:
drawn 1: goals for 25: goals against 6. Unfortunately a complete
record of the Regimental and Battalion team was not kept, but we have
records of the last 74 matches. Of these 66 were won: 3 lost: 5 drawn:
goals for 217: goals against 45.

[Illustration: THE BATTALION FOOTBALL TEAM.
_Standing_ (_left to right._)—Sgt. Patterson, 2nd. Lt. Gourlay, Pte.
Davidson, Pte. Buchanan, Pte. Thomson, Sgt. Fyall, Pte. Gair.
_Sitting_—Sgt. Goodall, Lt.-Col. Ogilvie, Pte. M’Guffog, Cpl. Davis,
Capt. Andrew. _In front_—Pte. Petrie, Pte. Moir.
_To face page 140_]

The Divisional Cross Country Run was also won by us, and we were
selected to run in the Inter-Corps Run. One or two successful mule
gymkhanas were got up, and we also tried our hand at baseball,
cricket, and paper chases, both mounted and on foot. Two or three
nights a week we had dances, and one or two good concert parties
entertained us.

Each week we kept sending men off for demobilization, and about the
third week in March we sent about 100 men to the 8th Battalion the
Black Watch, and half a dozen officers to the 6th Battalion in the
Army of the Rhine. This reduced us to cadre strength. On 18th June the
cadre consisting of 2 officers and 22 other ranks proceeded home via
Boulogne, and a few days later the baggage guard followed, after
handing over all Battalion stores at Dunkirk. Of those who went out on
the _Andania_ only four remained—Lieut.-Colonel D.D. Ogilvie,
Captain R.A. Andrew, M.C., R.Q.M.S. W.J. Galbraith and Sergeant-Major
W. Nisbet. The cadre reached Kirkcaldy on 25th June, where they were
entertained by the Provost on behalf of the Corporation, and in the
afternoon were all demobilized at Kinross.

So ends the history of the 14th (Fife and Forfar Yeomanry) Battalion,
the Black Watch, Royal Highlanders.

On 6th September 1915 Lord Lovat received the following wire from
Windsor Castle:—

    “I send you and your Brigade my best wishes on your departure
    for Active Service. I feel sure that the great and traditional
    fighting reputation of Scotsmen will be more than safe with you,
    and that your Brigade will spare no effort in the interests of
    the Empire’s cause to bring this war to a victorious conclusion.

    GEORGE _R.I._”

The purport of this short history is to show how we did our best to
carry out His Majesty’s command.

[Illustration: THE LYS SECTOR
_To face page 142_]




CHAPTER VII

SOME PERSONALITIES


In writing this short history of the regiment I have carefully
abstained from all personalities. These few notes on some of our best
known characters are only added to recall pleasant—or other—memories,
and the subjects are asked to forgive the liberty taken.

To criticise one’s superiors is both impolitic and impertinent, but
there are three who cannot be omitted—two of them live in England and
may never see this book, and the third—well, he has expressed his
opinion of me quite bluntly more than once already.

At Grammont I received a letter from a very well-known member of the
football team thanking me for the medals, in which he said:—“We
always liked General Girdwood for his kindly consideration for the
men, and I know I am only expressing the opinion of all the boys when
I say we would not have changed him for Haig himself.” There is no
doubt that was the opinion of the whole Division about our
G.O.C.—and, fortunately, we only had the one. Whether he was talking
to the men after a good bit of work in the line, or at a formal
inspection in the “back area,” one always felt how keenly interested
he was in the men. They loved his “Beatty” cap—but not his roasts of
beef. He always expressed his appreciation of good work, but
apparently disliked the growing of oats on the spare pole of one of
the limbers—but the transport know more about that than I do!

The G.O.C. had certainly a brain-wave when he adopted the “Broken
Spur” as our Divisional badge. We were all very proud of our “Broken
Spur.” An Australian officer, seeing it at Faustine Quarry, asked if
it was the badge of the 74th Division. “Well,” he added, “we call you
‘Allenby’s Harriers,’ because you are the only Division we can’t keep
up with.” Coming from an Australian that was “some” praise.

I don’t know which was the more popular—the G.O.C. or “Reggie.”[1]
But “Reggie” took some knowing, and though it was capital fun watching
him strafing others—which he did “full out”—it was quite another
thing when he turned his guns on you! He was a tremendous sportsman,
and it didn’t seem to matter whether he was hunting sentries or
jackal—so long as he was hunting he was quite happy—while the
feelings of the sentry and the jackal were also probably similar! He
took a tremendous pride in the Brigade—“I take off my hat every time
to the 229th”—and I fancy what pleased him far more than defeating
Turk or Bosche was our victory over the Scots Guards at Grand
Rullecourt.

If we had gone abroad within three months after mobilization nothing
would have saved “Black Mick”[2]—if within six months it was about
even odds. At nine months all the N.C.O.’s, a good many of the men, and
even one or two subalterns might have tried to save him; while after a
year, if any one had dared to lay hands on him, he would have been rent
in twain by the entire Regiment. And the reason was obvious. Realising
what capital material he had to deal with, Mick was determined that,
whatever people might think of him, his job was to get the Regiment to
the highest state of efficiency in the shortest possible time. The pill
certainly was a bit bitter, and it was only when the effects began to
be felt that we realised what a thundering good Doctor “Mick” was.
Shortly before we went out he admitted that we were as good as any
cavalry regiment in the Army, but characteristically added—“but don’t
tell the ——!” A very effective combination were the Colonel and Mick,
and if we didn’t love them much at the time we realise now how much we
owe them.

Subalterns and N.C.O.’s were to Mick as a bone to a puppy—he could
chew us as much as he liked to-day, but we were still there for
similar treatment on the morrow! But how pleased we were when his big
black horse played up one day and knocked his cap off!

His language was pointed and all-embracing, and our ancestry and
morals both seemed to meet with his disapproval. It is therefore
impossible to give any anecdote about Mick. When the narrator’s
opinion of Mick is added to Mick’s opinion of the narrator, the story
could only be told in Russian. “Always have an answer ready,” was his
advice, “even if it isn’t the truth—like Mr Sharp’s answer just now.”

Sharpie[3] and Ralph Stewart were quite the best at looking after
themselves, and carried more gear than all the rest of us put
together. At Syderstone Common an inquisitive general ordered the
tarpaulin to be taken off the General Service wagon, and the first
things which caught his eye were Sharpie’s tennis racket and golf
clubs. At Gara munitions of war had to be left behind to find room on
the truck for his patent washstand. By the time he got to Palestine
Johnnie Smith really could not compete with his belongings, and had to
“borrow” a donkey to carry what could not possibly be left at Cox’s
Go-down—and it took eight months after the Armistice was signed
before sufficient shipping could be collected at Alexandria to bring
that home.

“Tukie”[4] and “Doctor” Ross[5] of course go together—I don’t know
which had the more character.

“What’s the guid o’ gaen tae oor Doctor? He wadna believe yer ill till
yer deid, and he wadna believe yer deid till yer stinkin.”
Scrimshankers got little sympathy from either. “I’ve got awful pains
in my back, Doctor,” said one man, and a knowing look passed between
the Doctor and Ross. “Off with your shirt then.” A good old smack on
his bare back and—“that’s all right, my man. A good dose of castor
oil, Corporal Ross. Medicine and duty.”

Corporal Ross was a wonderful detective. He knew the past history and
character of every man in the Regiment, I am sure. Though no two could
have taken more care over you when you were really sick than Tukie and
his corporal, no two were harder on anyone they knew was shamming. How
these two worked on Gallipoli! Finally Tukie had to give in and was
literally pushed on board a hospital ship, but he was as bad as a
patient as he was good as a doctor, and they were glad to get rid of
him at Malta after a short time and return him to his beloved Unit.
Egypt, of course, afforded great scope for Tukie’s fly-extermination
crusade, and I have already referred in the text to his extraordinary
success in exterminating mosquitoes at Sherika.

In Palestine his sanitary schemes were almost universally adopted, and
his award of a Military Cross hardly represents the great improvements
he introduced into the sanitation and health of the Force. We were all
very sorry to lose Tukie, but realised that his ability was wasted as
a regimental doctor, and felt he was better employed at the citadel
where he had more opportunity of using his great surgical powers. We
only hope he didn’t drop cigarette ash into the interiors of his
patients.

Others we lost far too soon were Ronnie Hutchison, O.C. Machine Gun
Section, who went to the M.G.C. His favourite word of command was
“Gallop,” and his joy to jump ditches and hedges with his carts; Pat
Rigg and David Marshall, also Machine Gunners; Willie Don, who had to
leave us in Egypt owing to heart trouble. His Grace of Canterbury
himself could not have intoned words of command more melodiously than
Willie did. Charlie Herdman, our finest exponent of horsemanship. He
left us in Egypt to go to Remounts, and there he was absolutely in his
element, horse, camel, and donkey-coping. Spreull the Vet., who went
to the R.A.V.C. in France. Nor is anyone likely to forget “Daddy”
Ricketts, the Q.M., if he ever tried to extract anything from his
stores, or Gervase Babington (family motto “What is thine is mine”)
if he happened to possess anything Gervase or his troop coveted.

“Ackety-ack”[6]—otherwise Willie Campbell—had one great failing. He
could see no farther than A Squadron or A Company, and if anyone ran
down “A” he foamed at the mouth. Ask him how many sergeants there were
in No. 1 platoon—which won one of the inter-platoon football
competitions—and he was abusive for a week! “Ackety” was perhaps seen
at his best playing for the officers’ team. On the advice of the
crowd, “Go for the man, sir, never mind the ball,” he invariably went
for Collier or Herd or Dommett, the adjutant of the Somersets—each
one quite two or more stone heavier than himself. He and
“Aeroplane”[7] were well matched, nothing striking to look at but
grand stayers. Willie was due for leave about the first week of
January 1919, but as he had spent all his money, and about £200 of
other people’s, on the men’s Christmas dinner, he had just to stay
where he was from want of funds to take him home.

While at Sherika, Ross Robertson left us to join R.F.C. He was our
first signal officer, and when he left was second in command B
Squadron. We lost in Rossie a very capable and popular officer, and
his death on his first solo over the German lines at Cambrai was
keenly felt by the entire Regiment. Morning stables were of no
interest to Rossie—all the energy he could raise was devoted to
flicking the heads off the daisies in his lines, but give him a
definite job to do and no one could do it better.

Unlike his successor, nothing could worry him—Bill Scott, on the
other hand, took his telephones very seriously. Till the day he went
home we pulled his leg about his ’phones. Ormy,[8] in particular,
being lavish in advice as to what to do, and threatening to get Jock
Clark if he (Scott) couldn’t do it.

Ormy was a great fellow. The less he knew about a subject, the more
advice he would give and would argue the point _ad nauseam_. He was
reading Law at the time—perhaps that is why.

Perhaps “Dinkum’s”[9] best _bon mot_ was when he nicknamed
M‘Dougal[10] the “Gallipoli Spider,” and Mac certainly had a wonderful
knack of gathering all things into his web. Gallipoli gave him
splendid opportunity for his Autolycus-like habits, and rumour has it
that, though really ill with dysentery, he took off with him from
Suvla seventeen ground sheets and nearly as many blankets. At Sherika,
rather than lose his share of the ice, he took it with his tea.

Bombing was his strong point, and as an instructor in hand and rifle
grenades he was first class. Routine he hated like poison. Mac is
perhaps the only officer who was witty once—and only once—in his
trench report. I don’t know if H.Q. see the point of his remarks to
this day. He it was, who, having overshot the mark, and lost his way
in Palestine, was shown back to our lines by a Turkish officer!

“George Washington,” Cummins,[11] “lost his nerve,” so he said,
through being mauled by a lion in South Africa. This is purely
supposition on his part, as he had no notion what nerves were. We
sometimes wondered if he even knew what pain was. He was badly
frost-bitten on Suvla, and had to be pushed off the Peninsula—at
Sheria a bullet passed through his forearm and grazed his upper arm
and ribs. He got it tied up, and continued with the advance, and then
assisted wounded all night at the dressing-station. The C.O. ordered
him to go to the Field Ambulance at once to have his wound seen to,
but George put in four more hours before complying with the order.

At Fakenham an officer joined us from the Wild West—a cow-puncher and
lassoo expert. The obvious name for him was Arizona;[12] and Arizona
he remained. I have even heard him referred to as Captain Arizona. An
enthusiast in whatever he took up, he was in turn scout officer,
transport officer, Lewis gun officer, quartermaster and company
commander. But it is as sports officer that he will be best
remembered—training the football or running teams, coaching the
tug-of-war, organising cricket or baseball, or arranging mule
gymkhanas or swimming matches. One of his best efforts was coaching
the tug-of-war team in the final against Lovats at Sohag. Only when
his handkerchief was in his right hand were his instructions
“genuine.”[13]—“Heave” with it in his left meant nothing, and
completely mystified the opposing coach. Poor old Arizona! He went out
with us to Gallipoli, and was with us to the very end. Shortly after
coming home he had an operation on his broken nose, and everything
seemed all right, but pleuritic pneumonia set in, and he died very
suddenly in a nursing home in St Andrews in February of this year.

There is one officer about whom innumerable stories could be told—no
need to mention his name. He, it was who, looking through a periscope,
well below the parapet, waved to a Turkish deserter to come in, and
could not understand how the Turk didn’t see him.

When he was mounting his horse one day it collapsed and died on the
spot.

“That’s a funny thing, Sergeant Cooper; I’ve never known this horse do
that before.”

“Will you take my punishment or go before a court-martial?” “Your
award, Sir.”

“Well, go away, and don’t do it again!”

When asked how he got on when torpedoed on the way home, all we learnt
from him was, “It was very wet.”

Then there is the oft quoted, “What are you complaining about? It’s
only another five miles, and you’ve cocoa for your tea!”

Mac Lindsay,[14] the stock-whip expert and jack-of-all-trades,
confessed to only one ambition in life—to dress —— in a little red
jacket and fez and lead him round on a chain! The report that he made
a Ford car out of bully-beef tins has, I understand, been officially
denied.

Just a week before the Armistice we lost Colthart, the best
quartermaster in the Army, and one of the best of fellows. He had a
wonderful “way with him,” and could get for us all sorts of stores,
etc., which other quartermasters were unable to get. He was with us
all the time, and never missed a “show.”

Colthart once “took pity” on a stray donkey in Palestine. Government
oats soon made a tremendous difference, and the donkey was sold at
Yalo for, I think, £11. Unfortunately, the previous owner met the new
purchaser with the donkey, and all explanations being unavailing, a
court of enquiry was the result, to which witnesses seemed to come
from all over Palestine. Eventually, the donkey was returned to its
previous owner, and all parties satisfied—except the donkey.

Dick Wood and Harry Fraser were two of the best we got from the Black
Watch. Dick Wood looked benevolent enough behind his spectacles, but
in a scrap his lust for blood was insatiable. Harry’s penchant was
stalking Bosche machine gun posts. Unfortunately, he got it badly in
the neck just as success was at hand, and was away from us till about
the Armistice.

He and the other Harry (Adamson) looked after the transport lines.
Arizona told Harry Adamson to take his platoon forward and see if the
Bosche were still holding their trenches on the Lys Sector. “Hairy’s”
method was typical of the man. Thinking it might be a “dirty” job,
“Hairy” left his platoon under cover and went on himself. Having
failed to find any Bosche in their trenches, he got up on the parapet
and waved to his platoon to come on!

Of the N.C.O.’s and men it is possible only to mention a few.

I always associate S.M. Alec. Ogilvie with Hogsthorpe at early morning
stand-to going round the lines, abusing everyone for making a noise,
and himself making as much noise as all the rest of us put together.
He was the life and soul of C Squadron. Heaven knows what C would have
done without him on the Peninsula. He and Edie and M’Laren, our three
squadron sergeant-majors, were a very strong trio. Edie was an example
to all of us—however tired he might be himself he never thought of
resting till he was satisfied his men were all right.

One man, I know, will never forget Sergeant Craig (he was made
R.Q.M.S. just a few days before his death on Suvla). Craig found lice
“doing squaderron drrrill up his legs,” and he was pegged out in an
outhouse till his clothes were fumigated.

S.M. Bradfield was another splendid fellow who lost his life—the
result of frost bite—on Gallipoli. Corporal “One ’wo” was a physical
instructor in civil life, and no one could twist one better at “jerks”
than he could.

Then there was the one and only Jock Lumsden. Regularly once a week at
morning stables he turned the whole troop out to water, while he and
“Dinkum” swept the entire garage out—a sure sign that the previous
night had been pay night. He always was a hard worker, but a perfect
demon for work the morning after the night before. A squadron leader
was showing a man how to use a pick, cutting trenches in the sandstone
at Sherika. Up strolled Jock—hands deep in his pockets. “Here,
Sergeant-major—this man hasn’t the foggiest notion how to use a pick.
I’ve just been showing him.” “I’ve been watching ye, sir. I’m thinking
it wad need tae be war time for you to earn ten shillings a day in the
pits.”

“How many men in this bay for rum, Sergeant Lumsden?” “Four men and
myself, sir. That will be nine.” When handed his tot, he looked at the
bottom of the mug, and handed it back to the orderly sergeant, “Hoots,
Gorrie, dinna mak a fule o’ my stamach.”

An inveterate gambler, but a great sportsman, no one could have been
more loyal to his Company than Jock.

When a man on manoeuvres crawls up to a ditch within twenty yards of
a very wide awake post, leaves his cap just showing above the bank,
and then proceeds up the ditch so as to get within five yards of the
sentry, and could only be dislodged from there by stones, one spots
him at once as a keen, hard-working fellow. Such was Private Gall, who
eventually became R.S.M. He taught us to bayonet fight with “dash,
vigour, and determination,” and gave us Irish songs and recitations at
our smokers.

Another star performer was Craig of the Machine Gun Battery, with his
whistling and patter. He eventually got a commission (and the D.S.O.)
in the Grenadier Guards.

Then there was Sergeant Renton—who, though badly frost-bitten,
refused to leave the front line, and always showed his other foot to
the Doctor. He could only hobble with the help of spades as crutches.
Young Roger who “saw red” in the Dere and nearly bayonetted the
Doctor. Hastie Young, an “old soldier,” the regimental barber: he cut
the Brig.’s hair, until the Brig. unfortunately ran into Hastie
holiday-making in Jerusalem.

Lowson who snored quite happily within a few yards of the Turkish
machine gunner at “Amulree”[15] and finally got lost, and “fetched up
among the ‘Duffs,’ I think ye ca’ them” (it is as the “Buffs” that
they are generally known)!

S.-M. Elder, an old Black Watch man, who when asked if he were dead
stoutly denied it.

Little Batchelor, the runner, never flurried and always so polite,
however nasty the Bosche might be, was nearly kidnapped by the
Australians as a mascot.

“Honest John” M’Niven who would work twenty-four hours a day to make A
Company more comfortable.

S.M. Hair whose wonderful pronunciation of words of command always
amused us. His “Stind at —— ice” electrified everyone; unlike poor
old Aitken, whose staccato and rapid “Company company ‘shun’” was
never heard by anyone! And then the footballers Savage, Herd, Collier
(who commanded “hauf a Batt-al-i-on” at St Emilie); Todd, M’Guffog
(who captained the team that won the Final of the Divisional Cup, with
a bit of Turkish shrapnel so close to his spine that they dared not
operate); Davis with a heart like a lion and a kick like a mule;
M’Lean who could head the ball about as far as he could kick it;
Durham who seemed always half asleep and too lazy to worry—and many
another first-rate footballer.

Leitch, the biggest and strongest man we had, the end man of the
tug-of-war team, one of our best Lewis gunners, who, when shot in the
hand, so that he could not fire his gun, carried on bringing up
ammunition boxes all that day.

Henderson, D Coy’s S.M.; Galbraith on whom descended Colthart’s
wonderful knack of obtaining whatever he wanted; Storrer Mosh alias
Morrison Storrar of A Squadron and A Coy.

Mack, one of the best we got from the 10th Battalion, and they were
all good fellows; Corporal Gibb, who looked the part so well that he
was appointed Acting Q.M.S. by the Stores Officer at Kantara!


And Many More.

Names and episodes crowd one another out—the more one writes, the
more one recalls. These random jottings, however, will call up many
more to the reader’s memory. Such is my hope—that, having started you
in a reminiscent frame of mind you will now carry on “spinning the
yarn” yourself.

    “Here’s tae oorsel’s! Wha’s like us! Damned few!”

[Illustration: THE FIFE AND FORFAR IMPERIAL YEOMANRY AT ANNSMUIR.
_To face page 158_]


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Brigadier-General R. Hoare, C.M.G., D.S.O.

[2] Capt. (later Lieut.-Col.) M.E. Lindsay, D.S.O., 7th D.G.

[3] Capt. H.S. Sharp.

[4] Capt. A.L. Tuke, M.C., R.A.M.C.(T.).

[5] Cpl. (later Sgt.) A.J. Ross, M.M., R.A.M.C., attd. F. and F.Y. and
14th R.H.

[6] Capt. (later Major) Sir W.A.A. Campbell, Bart., M.C.

[7] His charger.

[8] Lieut. (A/Capt.) J.W. Ormiston.

[9] Pte. Henderson, B Squadron.

[10] Lieut. (later Capt.) A.R. M‘Dougal.

[11] Lieut. (late Capt.) W.W. Cummins.

[12] Lieut. (late Capt.) R.A. Andrew, M.C.

[13] Pronounced “_genu-eine_.”

[14] Lieut. A.S. Lindsay, M.B.E., M.C.

[15] Amurieh, an isolated hill held by the Turks, raided by the Ayrs
and Lanarks, 22nd March 1917.




CHAPTER VIII

THE PREDECESSORS OF THE FIFE AND FORFAR YEOMANRY


During the troublous times in France at the end of the eighteenth
century the fear of invasion was as acute as it was during the first
years of the European War. To meet this danger Pitt issued his famous
appeal, and towards the end of 1793 the first yeomanry regiment was
raised in Suffolk. Others quickly followed, and in 1794 we find a
regiment was raised in Forfar called the Forfar Yeomanry or Angus
Cavalry, which continued twenty-five years until disbanded in 1819.

In Fife the first unit raised appears to have been a regiment of
“Fencible Cavalry” named “The Fifeshire Light Dragoons”; like other
Fencible Units throughout the country this regiment seems to have been
more or less a Regular Unit enlisted for the period of the war and for
home service only. It was apparently the force on which the Government
relied for keeping a check on local unrest, and was disbanded in 1797.

In 1798 the Fife Yeomanry Cavalry and the Stirlingshire Yeomanry
Cavalry were raised, and later on Perthshire, Clackmannanshire, and
Kinross-shire all had their yeomanry regiments, which, however, seldom
exceeded 150 in strength.

In Fife, however, thanks to the inspiration and energy of Sir William
Erskine and Mr Wemyss of Cuttlehill, it was very popular; and when the
Earl of Crawford was appointed Colonel Commandant in September 1798
there were already seven mounted troops.

With change of name to the Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, and under
the successive command of Lieut.-Colonel Morison of Naughton (1803),
Colonel J. Anstruther Thomson of Charlton (1809), and Colonel W.
Wemyss (1823) the Regiment continued to flourish, receiving in
1814—the year which saw the close of the war—the thanks of both
Houses of Parliament for its services.

In 1822 the Regiment took part in the Review held by His Majesty King
George IV. on Portobello sands where, according to a contemporary
account, “the novelty of an exhibition of this order, and the passion
allowable of the ladies to see their gallant and rustic lords and
lovers relinquishing the habiliments of common life and flourishing in
scarlet and glory, produced an immense crowd.”

In December 1827 an Order was circulated announcing the disbandment
of many yeomanry regiments, and among those on the list was The Royal
Fife. Arms were returned to store, and the Regiment actually disbanded
in 1828. The Perthshire, Clackmannanshire, and Kinross-shire
Yeomanries were also disbanded at this time.

[Illustration: DETACHMENT AT H.M. THE KING’S VISIT TO EDINBURGH.
_To face page 160_]

[Illustration: REGIMENTAL DRILL AT ANNSMUIR WITH SKELETON ENEMY.
_To face page 160_]

The troublous times of 1830 reached their height in the winter of that
year, and many yeomanry regiments were re-established, amongst them
being the Fifeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, commanded by General Balfour of
Balbirnie. The Regiment was again disbanded in 1838, the same fate
overcoming the Stirlingshire Yeomanry.

In 1856 the Forfar Yeomanry were re-raised, and in 1860 the Fifeshire
Mounted Rifle Volunteers, under command of Lieut.-General The Earl of
Rosslyn, Captain Anstruther Thomson, son of the officer who had
commanded the Fife Yeomanry and Fife Fencible Cavalry half a century
before, Captain Whyte Melville of the 9th Lancers, Captain Oswald of
the Grenadier Guards, son of Captain Oswald of Dunnikier of the Royal
Rifles, and Captain Sir Arthur Halkett, who had carried the colours of
the 42nd Royal Highlanders at the Battle of the Alma, were the Troop
leaders.

Though the Regiment was only officially accepted in June, they were
present at the Royal Review in Edinburgh in September, marching past
Her Majesty The Queen in rear of the Scots Greys.

In 1862 the Forfar Yeomanry were disbanded, and for the next fourteen
years there were no Yeomanry in Forfarshire.

In 1870, on the application of Lieut.-Colonel Anstruther Thomson, the
Mounted Rifle Volunteers were turned into Light Horse, and the Corps
was called the 1st Fifeshire Volunteer Light Horse Corps, with an
establishment of 240 all ranks.

Towards the end of 1875 a movement was made to raise a Forfarshire
Troop of Light Horse, and early in 1876 a strong Troop, known as the
1st Forfarshire Light Horse Volunteer Corps, was raised at Dundee
under command of Captain P.A.W. Carnegy of Lour and attached to the
Fife Light Horse.

In 1895 Lieut.-Colonel John Gilmour of Montrave succeeded to the
command of the Regiment, and introduced the Squadron System—“A”
Squadron having its headquarters at Cupar, “B” Squadron at
Dunfermline, and the “Forfar” Squadron at Dundee.

In October 1899 the South African War broke out, and early in 1900 the
20th Company Imperial Yeomanry was formed. Captain Chappell Hodge,
late 12th Lancers, was given command, and under him were Lieutenants
J. Gilmour and J. Simpson. They embarked on 27th February for Cape
Town where they were given their horses, and proceeded to join General
Sir A. Hunter’s Division for the relief of Mafeking. The “Fifes”
crossing the Vaal captured the town of Christiana in the
Transvaal—the first act of war on Transvaal soil.

After the death of Captain Hodge, Captain R. Purvis took command till
wounded at Nooitgedacht, when Lieutenant J. Gilmour succeeded him.

In May 1901 the first contingent, after having marched 2575 miles and
taken part in 85 engagements, proceeded home.

The 20th Company Imperial Yeomanry continued to serve till the end of
the war, receiving in all 498 officers and men from the Fife and
Forfar Light Horse.

The conversion of the Light Horse into Imperial Yeomanry took place in
1901, and the Regiment then became the Fife and Forfar Imperial
Yeomanry—in 1908, on the formation of the Territorial Force, the word
“Imperial” was dropped.

In 1901 Lieut.-Colonel Sir John Gilmour retired and was succeeded by
Lieut.-Colonel T.H. Erskine of Grangemuir, the present Honorary
Colonel of the Regiment.

On the outbreak of war in 1914 the Regiment was commanded by
Lieut.-Colonel A. Mitchell of Luscar, subsequent Commanding Officers
being Lieut.-Colonels J. Gilmour, J. Younger, J.M. M’Kenzie, and D.D.
Ogilvie. During this period the Adjutants were Captains M.E. Lindsay,
H.S. Sharp, A.C. Smith, W.D. Brown, R. Colthart, and J.W. Ormiston.

[Illustration: GROUP SHOWING SIX SUCCESSIVE COMMANDING OFFICERS.
_Standing (left to right)_—Lt. Younger, Capt. Lumsden, Lt. Stewart,
Capt. Haig, Col. Anstruther Thomson, Lt. Russell, Lt. Wright
(Yorkshire Dragoons), Lt. Nairn, Capt. Dewar.
_Sitting_—Major Osborne, Major Gilmour, Major Mitchell, Major
Erskine, Lt.-Col. Sir J. Gilmour, Capt. Burgoyne (Adjutant), Major
Marshall, Major Lawson.
_To face page 164_]

[Illustration: THE CADRE ON ARRIVAL AT KIRKCALDY (see page 142).
_To face page 164_]




APPENDIX

HONOURS AND AWARDS


=D.S.O.=

Lieut.-Col. John Gilmour.
Lieut.-Col. James Younger.


=M.C.=

Capt. Ian Couper Nairn.
Capt. Sir William A.A. Campbell, Bart.
Capt. A.L.S. Tuke, R.A.M.C.(T.).
Lieut. Robert A. Andrew.
2nd Lieut. Alec C. Smith.
2nd Lieut. William Jeffrey Johnstone.
2nd Lieut. John Crawford Houston.
2nd Lieut. A. Richard Wood. D.C.M., M.M.
2nd Lieut. T. Brodie Brown.
345626 C.S.M. John Cameron.


=D.C.M.=

   131 S.S.M. Alexander Ogilvie.
345018 C.S.M. William Henderson.
345416 Sergt. William Collier.
345200 Sergt. William Syme.
345314 Sergt. William R. Chalmers.
  1437 L/Sergt. J. Valentine.
290604 Private James Birrell.
345094 Private H.A. Dickie.
  2029 Private W. Roger.
345209 Private Thomas Spence.


=M.M.=

345674 Sergt. Alex. Park Gordon.
345375 Sergt. William Herd.
345380 Sergt. James Johnston.
345749 Cpl. J. Black.
300005 Cpl. Alexander J. Ross, R.A.M.C.
345074 L/Cpl. John J. Leitch.
345320 L/Cpl. E. Lippiatt.
345409 L/Cpl. A. Sinclair.
345116 L/Cpl. David Maxwell Telfer.
 11463 Private J. Armour.
 16877 Private Alex. Black. D.C.M.
345446 Private William Blair.
345259 Private A. Campbell.
 26870 Private Richard Izatt.
345075 Private Douglas Rodger.
345740 Private W.T. Smith.


=M.S.M.=

345141 R.S.M. George Call.
345166 C.S.M. John Skinner Lumsden.
345191 R.Q.M.S. William James Galbraith.
345021 C.Q.M.S. William Blyth.
345095 C.Q.M.S. John M’Niven.


=Serbian Gold Medal=

  2025 S.S. D.H. Pringle.


=Italian Bronze Medal=

345031 L/Cpl. Alexander Wilson.


=Medaille Barbatie si Credinta—1st Class=

345426 Sergt. Robert Ballantyne.


=Mention in Dispatches=

Lieut.-Col. John Gilmour.
Major James Younger.
Major Cecil George de Prée.
Capt. Michael E. Lindsay.
Capt. D. Douglas Ogilvie.
Capt. Sir William A.A. Campbell, Bart.
Lieut. David Colville.
Lieut. Henry Adamson.
2nd Lieut. Alec C. Smith.
2nd Lieut. A.S. Lindsay.
Lieut. (A/Capt.) Robert Herd Colthart.
Lieut. Robert A. Andrew.
2nd Lieut. (A/Capt.) John W. Ormiston.
   131 S.S.M. Alexander Ogilvie.
   977 S.Q.M.S. J. Edmund.
345113 Sergt. Alex. Sievewright.
345185 Sergt. William Scott.
345424 Sergt. D. Low.
345943 Sergt. Duncan Campbell.
   792 Sergt. Nathaniel Mack.
  1860 L/Sergt. James R. Barron.
345165 L/Sergt. R.M. Hogg.
345476 Cpl. William A. Milne.
   650 Cpl. Alex. J. Ross, R.A.M.C.
345245 L/Cpl. J. Brown.
345302 L/Cpl. John Clark.
345031 L/Cpl. Alexander Wilson.
345180 Private Thomas Blease.
345154 Private William Dunn.
345052 Private Frederick Paterson.


=Certificates of Gallantry=

  1860 Cpl. James Barron.
  1826 Private James Benton.
  1851 Private James Salmond.
  2441 Private W. Whyte.


=Honours gained by Officers extra Regimentally employed=

Lieut.-Col. Alex. J. King, C.M.G. D.S.O.
Lieut.-Col. Andrew Spreull, R.A.V.C. D.S.O.
Major George Erskine Jackson. O.B.E., M.C.
Major (A/Lt.-Col.) Ronald G.O. Hutchison. D.S.O., M.C.
Capt. Harold S. Sharp. Mention.
Capt. Charles W. Herdman. Mention.
Capt. Harold W.V. Temperley. O.B.E.
Capt. A.S. Lindsay, M.B.E. M.C., Croix de Guerre.
Capt. David Marshall. M.C.
Lieut. R. Warburton. M.C.
Lieut. A.G. Brown. M.C.
Lieut. W.J. Rae. M.C.


=Honours gained by former Adjutants=

Colonel (Hon. Brig.-Gen.) M.L. MacEwen, C.B. Legion d’Honneur.
Lieut.-Col. (Hon. Brig.-Gen.) G.R.H. Cheape, C.M.G. D.S.O., M.C.
Lieut.-Col. E.C. Jury, C.M.G. M.C.
Major (Temp. Lieut.-Col.) M.E. Lindsay. D.S.O.


CASUALTIES

DATE.      REGT.    RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
           NO.

 28.9.15    2635   Private     Carnegie, G.      Wounded.
            2529   Private     Dow, D.           Wounded. Died 8.10.15
            2056   Private     M’Kenzie, F.W.    Wounded.
 30.9.15    1998   Private     Maloney, James    Wounded.
 2.10.15    1617   Private     Scott, D.         Wounded.
 3.10.15     966   Sergt.      Petrie, R.        Killed.
 4.10.15    1799   Private     Clark, T.         Wounded.
 6.10.15    1681   Private     Gourlay, J.       Wounded.
 9.10.15    2405   Private     Doig, W.S.        Wounded.
11.10.15    2487   Private     Grieve, J.        Wounded.
            1816   Private     Robertson, J.     Wounded.
12.10.15    2039   Private     Westwater, A.C.   Wounded. Died of wounds.
18.10.15    1541   Cpl.        Maxwell, J.       Killed.
            1985   Private     Haworth, F.       Killed.
            1730   Private     Pattinson, J.     Killed.
            1437   L/Sergt.    Valentine, J.     Wounded.
            2029   Private     Roger, W.         Wounded.
19.10.15    2069   Private     Carnegie, R.Y.    Wounded.
20.10.15    2534   Private     Lumsden, T.       Wounded.
            2486   Private     Morris, J.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  20.10.15.
21.10.15    2489   Private     Beveridge, H.     Killed.
            1835   Private     Macfarlane, J.    Killed.
            1727   Private     Brown, A.         Wounded.
            2536   Private     O’Neill, J.A.     Wounded.
            1826   Private     Renton, J.        Wounded.
24.10.15    1995   L/Cpl.      Blease, T.        Wounded.
            2081   Private     Young, W.K.       Wounded.
26.10.15    1704   Private     Ford, C.          Killed.
            2201   Private     Henry, J.         Wounded.
27.10.15    2276   Private     Campbell, G.W.    Wounded.
29.10.15    1496   Private     Clark, D.         Killed.
            1449   Sergt.      Farrell, A.       Wounded.
30.10.15    1758   Private     Baxter, J.        Killed.
31.10.15    1971   Private     Kennedy, J.       Killed.
 2.11.15    2010   Private     Millar, D.        Wounded.
 3.11.15    1989   Private     Rushworth, G.     Died of wounds.
 4.11.15    2075   Private     Whyte, J.L.       Wounded.
 5.11.15    2535   Private     Jarvis, T.        Wounded.
12.11.15    1705   Private     Cowan, R.         Killed.
                   2nd Lieut.  Herdman, C.W.     Wounded.
            1817   Private     Fotheringham, H.  Wounded.
            1751   Private     Harris, W.H.      Wounded.
            1921   Private     Wilson, R.        Wounded.
16.11.15    1621   Private     Fyffe, T.W.       Wounded.
            2216   Private     Gordon, W.        Wounded.
            2204   Private     Pearson, W.       Wounded.
26.11.15    1811   Private     Robertson, R.W.   Wounded.
28.11.15    2043   L/Cpl.      Fairweather, T.   Killed.
            2048   L/Cpl.      Howie, W.         Killed.
            1901   Private     Hood, J.T.        Wounded.
            1735   Private     Mitchell, R.R.    Wounded.
            2458   Private     Wilson, J.M.      Wounded.
            2089   Private     Roger, J.M.       Died.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

29.11.15    1595   Cpl.        Bowie, R.         Wounded.
            2412   Private     Adamson, D.       Wounded.
            1685   Private     Hamilton, T.      Wounded.
            1930   Private     M’Kechnie, W.     Wounded.
            1563   Private     Millar, T.        Wounded.
            2456   Private     Potter, A.        Wounded.
            2455   Private     Rough, J.         Wounded.
29.11.15    2337   Private     Wright, C.        Wounded.
            1684   S.S. Cpl.   Pearson, W.       Missing (prisoner).
                                                 Died at Sivas, 25.5.16.
30.11.15    1886   Private     M’Gregor, R.      Died at Sivas, 25.5.16.
            2083   Private     Moffat, T.        Died at Sivas, 25.5.16.
            2360   Private     Halley, J.        Wounded.
            1581   Cpl.        Peter, A.         Wounded. Died 5.12.15.
 1.12.15    2440   Private     Stewart, J.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  3.12.15.
 2.12.15    1987   R.Q.M.S.    Colclough, W.T.   Wounded.
 8.12.15    2209   Private     Batchelor, A.     Wounded.
10.12.15    2021   Private     Galloway, J.      Wounded.
12.12.15    1618   Private     Paton, D.S.       Wounded.
15.12.15    2155   Private     Finlayson, P.     Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.12.15.
19.12.15    2057   A/R.Q.M.S.  Craig, J.         Died of wounds.
 6.11.15    2186   Private     M’Laren, A.       Died of disease.
 8.11.15    2024   Private     Cairns, R.D.      Died of disease.
18.11.15    2129   Private     Harley, A.B.      Died of disease.
15.12.15    2059   S.S.M.      Bradfield, T.     Died of disease.
 27.5.16    2026   Private     Hendry, J.M.      Died of disease.
27.11.16    2583   Tptr.       Shearer, W.       Died of disease.
 19.4.17  345413   Private     Robertson, R.     Wounded. Mansura Ridge.
          345542   Private     Wilson, H.J.R.    Wounded. Mansura Ridge.
 14.5.17  345122   Private     Yule, G.          Wounded.
 16.5.17  345060   Saddler     Brown, J.         Wounded and at duty.
 25.5.17  345945   L/Sgt.      Bannigan, P.      Killed. Dumb-bell Hill.
          345555   Private     Floyd, J.         Wounded. Dumb-bell Hill.
          346003   Private     Wiseman, W.       Wounded. Dumb-bell Hill.
 26.5.17  345561   Private     Calder, J.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Dumb-bell Hill.
          340020   Private     M’Donell, D.      Wounded. Dumb-bell Hill.
          340016   Private     Milne, J.W.       Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Dumb-bell Hill.
 31.5.17  345402   Private     Aitkenhead, M.    Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Dumb-bell Hill.
 12.6.17  345934   Private     Davidson, R.      Wounded. Dumb-bell Hill.
 17.6.17  345549   Private     Keith, H.         Wounded.
 30.8.17   ...     2nd Lieut.  Crawford, W.S.    Wounded.
                               (Lanark Yeomanry)
          345180   L/Cpl.      Blease, T.        Wounded.
          345703   Private     Davidson, A.      Wounded and at duty.
          345758   Private     Edwards, J.       Wounded.
          345497   Private     Potter, S.        Wounded and at duty.
 1.11.17  345461   L/Cpl.      Harley, R.        Killed.
          345190   Private     Lister, L.        Missing (prisoner).
 3.11.17  345073   Cpl.        Dougal, J.F.      Missing (prisoner).
            9276   Private     Bell, A.          Missing (prisoner).
           17468   Private     Brady, J.         Missing (prisoner).
 4.11.17   ...     2nd Lieut.  Inglis, T.H.      Wounded.
                               (att. Glo’ster
                                Yeomanry).
           ...     2nd Lieut.  M’Lean, J.        Wounded.
          345335   L/Lieut.    Wyles, A.         Wounded.
          340021   Private     Adams, W.         Wounded.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

 4.11.17  345207   Private     Dow, R.           Wounded.
          S/8885   Private     Kirk, G.B.        Wounded.
 6.11.17           Major       Osborne, G.E.B.   Killed. Sheria.
                   2nd Lieut.  Kinniburgh, J.D.  Killed. Sheria.
                   2nd Lieut.  Thomson, E.A.     Killed. Sheria.
          345172   Sergt.      Spence, A.        Killed. Sheria.
          345951   Sergt.      Sharp, J.         Killed. Sheria.
          345633   Cpl.        Dow, J.           Killed. Sheria.
          345161   Cpl.        Ovenstone, P.     Killed. Sheria.
          345264   Cpl.        Rattray, J.M.     Killed. Sheria.
          345627   L/Cpl.      Adamson, H.       Killed. Sheria.
          345953   L/Cpl.      Baxter, R.        Killed. Sheria.
           13133   L/Cpl.      M’Donald, G.      Killed. Sheria.
          345289   L/Cpl.      Prain, G.         Killed. Sheria.
           20382   Private     Anderson, J.      Killed. Sheria.
            2819   Private     Aston, T.         Killed. Sheria.
          345332   Private     Braid, D.         Killed. Sheria.
          340004   Private     Combe, W.         Killed. Sheria.
           16294   Private     Dalgleish, W.     Killed. Sheria.
          345545   Private     Downie, H.        Killed. Sheria.
          345605   Private     Fyfe, T.          Killed. Sheria.
           21841   Private     Gault, J.         Killed. Sheria.
          345962   Private     Geddes, C.        Killed. Sheria.
           20390   Private     Hendrie, J.       Killed. Sheria.
            8913   Private     Hoban, P.         Killed. Sheria.
          345301   Private     Howie, G.         Killed. Sheria.
 6.11.17    8224   Private     Hynd, H.          Killed. Sheria.
          345247   Private     Johnstone, J.R.   Killed. Sheria.
          345609   Private     Kemp, W.          Killed. Sheria.
          345717   Private     King, L.          Killed. Sheria.
          345358   Private     Lawrence, A.H.    Killed. Sheria.
            9916   Private     M’Donald, D.      Killed. Sheria.
          340018   Private     M’Millan, D.      Killed. Sheria.
          345679   Private     Milne, J.         Killed. Sheria.
          345871   Private     Milne, J.         Killed. Sheria.
          340016   Private     Milne, J.W.       Killed. Sheria.
           16758   Private     Mudie, F.         Killed. Sheria.
          345350   Private     Muir, J.K.        Killed. Sheria.
           20362   Private     Mutch, C.         Killed. Sheria.
          345115   Private     Nicoll, J.        Killed. Sheria.
          345769   Private     Notman, J.        Killed. Sheria.
          345394   Private     Pake, J.          Killed. Sheria.
           16204   Private     Peattie, D.       Killed. Sheria.
          345598   Private     Ritchie, J.       Killed. Sheria.
          345239   Private     Rodger, W.        Killed. Sheria.
           21819   Private     Ross, D.          Killed. Sheria.
          345735   Private     Scott, R.         Killed. Sheria.
           20889   Private     Staff, J.         Killed. Sheria.
          345861   Private     Stewart, A.       Killed. Sheria.
          345622   Private     Symon, A.         Killed. Sheria.
          345444   Private     Watson, N.        Killed. Sheria.
          345325   Private     Wilson, D.        Killed. Sheria.
           19663   Private     Woodward, J.      Killed. Sheria.
                   Lt.-Col.    Gilmour, J.       Wounded. Sheria.
                   Captain     Campbell, Bart.,
                                Sir W.A.A.       Wounded. Sheria.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

 6.11.17           Captain     Cummins, W.W.     Wounded. Sheria.
                   2nd Lieut.  M’Carrick, F.     Wounded. Sheria.
                   2nd Lieut.  Martin, J.M.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345426   Sergt.      Ballantyne, R.    Wounded. Sheria.
          345128   Sergt.      Ballantyne, J.    Wounded. Sheria.
          345416   Sergt.      Collier, W.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345098   Sergt.      Goodall, J.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345947   Sergt.      M’Gregor, H.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345334   Sergt.      Saunders, A.M.    Died of wounds 18.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345164   Sergt.      Taylor, D.        Died of wounds 11.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345251   Cpl.        Chalmers, G.C.    Died of wounds 8.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345097   Cpl.        Farmer, D.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345950   Cpl.        Hedley, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345138   Cpl.        Hood, J.T.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345234   Cpl.        Moir, A.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345341   Cpl.        Patterson, T.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345398   Cpl.        Rollo, D.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345196   Cpl.        Stewart, G.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345030   Cpl.        Whyte, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345223   Cpl.        Wright, R.H.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345225   L/Cpl.      Black, D.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345917   L/Cpl.      Cairncross, H.    Wounded. Sheria.
          340001   L/Cpl.      Dick, J.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345816   L/Cpl.      Doig, R.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345054   L/Cpl.      Fleming, A.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345174   L/Cpl.      Flynn, W.         Died of wounds. Sheria.
 6.11.17  345244   L/Cpl.      Hamilton, W.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345780   L/Cpl.      Holmes, R.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345844   L/Cpl.      Honeyman, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345074   L/Cpl.      Leitch, J.J.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345015   L/Cpl.      Lister, H.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345188   L/Cpl.      Ogg, J.           Wounded. Sheria.
          345471   L/Cpl.      Stephen, E.       Wounded. Sheria.
           18945   L/Cpl.      Ward, C.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345395   L/Cpl.      Wright, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
           15545   L/Cpl.      Younger, J.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345918   Private     Alexander, P.     Wounded. Sheria.
           15794   Private     Allan, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          340002   Private     Angus, T.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345576   Private     Armstrong, W.     Died of wounds 29.11.8.
                                                  Sheria.
          345834   Private     Bagridge, H.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345998   Private     Barlow, W.R.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345579   Private     Beaton, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345496   Private     Birrell, H.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345577   Private     Bisset, A.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345405   Private     Black, G.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345695   Private     Black, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345478   Private     Blyth, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345747   Private     Boyle, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          346000   Private     Bradshaw, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345890   Private     Bremner, F.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345561   Private     Calder, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345312   Private     Calderhead, J.    Wounded. Sheria.
          345268   Private     Campbell, G.W.    Wounded. Sheria.
          345635   Private     Campbell, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
           18725   Private     Cant, A.          Wounded. Sheria.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

6.11.17    20876   Private     Chalmers, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345878   Private     Chalmers, W.      Wounded. Sheria.
          241313   Private     Clarkson, J.R.    Wounded. Sheria.
          340006   Private     Colthart, T.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345678   Private     Conning, J.       Wounded. Sheria.
           22141   Private     Cooper, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345092   Private     Coupar, D.L.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345869   Private     Craig, G.         Wounded. Sheria.
           11824   Private     Craig, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345152   Private     Crichton, W.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345854   Private     Crighton, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345591   Private     Cumming, J.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345275   Private     Denholm, C.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345648   Private     Devlin, C.        Wounded. Sheria.
           43091   Private     Donaldson, D.     Wounded. Sheria.
           18718   Private     Drysdale, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345704   Private     Duffin, J.        Died of wounds 23.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345238   Private     Duncan, G.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345154   Private     Dunn, W.          Wounded. Sheria.
           20381   Private     Edwards, D.       Died of wounds 8.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
           21824   Private     Ellison, S.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345567   Private     Emerson, F.       Wounded. Sheria.
          340013   Private     Ewart, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345649   Private     Ferguson, H.      Wounded. Sheria.
           20878   Private     Findlay, W.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345963   Private     Finlayson, A.C.   Wounded. Sheria.
 6.11.17  345568   Private     Forsyth, J.B.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345434   Private     Gibb, D.          Wounded. Sheria.
            4570   Private     Gordon, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345507   Private     Grant, A.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345534   Private     Gray, J.          Wounded. Sheria.
           20378   Private     Gunn, A.          Wounded. Sheria.
           22331   Private     Gunn, D.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345713   Private     Guyan, D.         Died of wounds 11.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345654   Private     Helmsley, P.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345898   Private     Henderson, W.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345495   Private     Henderson, J.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345282   Private     Henry, T.B.       Wounded. Sheria.
          241311   Private     Herbertson, J.    Wounded. Sheria.
           10507   Private     Herd, D.          Wounded. Sheria.
           10507   Private     Hirst, R.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345510   Private     Hunter, R.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345763   Private     King, B.          Died of wounds 6.1.18.
                                                  Sheria.
          345990   Private     Laing, J.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345926   Private     Langston, H.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345965   Private     Lawson, A.M.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345611   Private     Linn, J.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345612   Private     Livingstone, G.   Wounded. Sheria.
          345901   Private     Lockhart, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
            3752   Private     Lyall, P.         Died of wounds 7.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345783   Private     M’Aree, H.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345385   Private     M’Call, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
           20379   Private     M’Carthey, J.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345483   Private     M’Cartney, W.H.   Wounded. Sheria.
          345266   Private     M’Donald, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
          340020   Private     M’Donald, D.      Wounded. Sheria.

 DATE.     REGT.    RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
           NO.

 6.11.17  345269   Private     M’Donald, F.      Died of wounds 8.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345975   Private     M’Donald, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345354   Private     M’Ewan, T.        Died of wounds 8.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345628   Private     M’Fadden, H.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345822   Private     M’Goldrick, F.    Wounded. Sheria.
          345460   Private     M’Graw, D.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345724   Private     M’Inroy, D.       Wounded. Sheria.
          345401   Private     M’Kechnie, W.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345587   Private     M’Laggan, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345611   Private     M’Millan, A.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345680   Private     M’Millan, J.      Died of wounds 6.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345967   Private     M’Rae, M.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345971   Private     Marshall, J.      Wounded. Sheria.
           16505   Private     Martin, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345659   Private     Martin, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345406   Private     Mathew, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345728   Private     Meekison, C.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345824   Private     Meldrum, A.       Wounded. Sheria.
           20394   Private     Mercer, H.        Died of wounds 8.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345439   Private     Moir, J.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345260   Private     Moonie, J.W.      Wounded. Sheria.
          345566   Private     Morgan, S.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345658   Private     Mudie, W.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345910   Private     Murray, T.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345482   Private     Penman, A.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345290   Private     Pennycook, J.M.   Wounded. Sheria.
 6.11.17   16033   Private     Petrie, D.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345597   Private     Prain, S.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345929   Private     Purvis, D.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345976   Private     Ramsay, W.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345977   Private     Reid, M.          Wounded. Sheria.
           20875   Private     Reid, R.          Wounded. Sheria.
          345573   Private     Rennie, C.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345982   Private     Robertson, A.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345556   Private     Robertson, J.     Wounded. Sheria.
          345392   Private     Robertson, W.     Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          346010   Private     Roy, A.           Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345575   Private     Scott, A.         Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345486   Private     Seath, J.         Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
           18720   Private     Shepherd, D.      Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345249   Private     Simpson, A.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345995   Private     Simpson, J.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345808   Private     Smith, R.         Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345333   Private     Smith, W.         Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
           20865   Private     Smith, W.A.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          340012   Private     Soutar, W.        Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345741   Private     Spence, G.        Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          346011   Private     Stewart, C.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345585   Private     Storey, C.        Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345068   Private     Storrar, M.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345775   Private     Stronner, J.      Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345529   Private     Stuart, J.        Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345415   Private     Thomson, H.       Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345862   Private     Turner, G.        Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
           19848   Private     Twist, T.         Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.
          345599   Private     Urquhart, J.      Died of wounds 12.11.17.
                                                  Sheria.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

 6.11.17  345468   Private     Veale, L.         Wounded. Sheria.
          340022   Private     Walker, G.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345687   Private     Waterson, T.      Wounded. Sheria.
           15462   Private     Weston, A.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345784   Private     Whyte, R.         Wounded. Sheria.
          345506   Private     Wilson, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
          345317   Private     Wilson, J.        Wounded. Sheria.
           20895   Private     Williamson, T.    Wounded. Sheria.
           20376   Private     Woodward, R.A.    Wounded. Sheria.
                   Captain     Brown, W.D.       Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345946   Sergt.      Mackie, A.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345087   L/Cpl.      Reid, I.          Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345020   L/Cpl.      Robertson, K.     Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345615   Private     M’Leod, N.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345666   Private     Petrie, M.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345075   Private     Rodger, D.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345383   Private     Ross, G.R.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
          345317   Private     Wilson, J.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
30.11.17  345002   C.Q.M.S     Morrison, D.      Wounded. Wadi Selman.
          345051   Sergt.      Watson, J.        Wounded. Wadi Selman.
          345430   L/Sergt.    M’Neil, R.        Wounded. Wadi Selman.
          345638   Private     Benson, H.        Wounded. Wadi Selman.
          345899   Private     Higginbottom, R.  Wounded. Wadi Selman.
           18845   Private     Huckerby, W.      Wounded. Wadi Selman.
          293275   Private     Smith, E.J.       Wounded. Wadi Selman.
           13401   Private     Paxton, R.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Sheria.
 1.12.17           2nd Lieut.  Greenlees, G.D.   Killed. “1750.”
          345352   Private     Dickson, D.G.     Killed. “1750.”
          345857   Private     Plant, H.         Wounded and at duty.
                                                  “1750.”
 3.12.17  345712   Private     Gray, W.          Missing (prisoner).
10.12.17  345814   Private     Connaghan, M.     Wounded.
27.12.17           2nd Lieut.  Forrest, P.T.A.   Killed. Zeitun.
                   2nd Lieut.  Armstrong, W.W.   Killed. Zeitun.
           21840   Private     Anderson, J.      Killed. Zeitun.
            9388   Private     Brand, J.         Killed. Zeitun.
          345698   Private     Brookland, F.     Killed. Zeitun.
           21826   Private     Goodfellow, J.    Killed. Zeitun.
          345969   Private     Jack, A.          Killed. Zeitun.
          346009   Private     Patterson, J.C.   Killed. Zeitun.
          345524   Private     Young, P.         Killed. Zeitun.
                   Captain     Brown, W.D.       Died of wounds 27.12.17.
                                                  Zeitun.
          345214   Sergt.      Menzies, J.B.     Wounded. Zeitun.
            5756   L/Sergt.    Grant, D.         Wounded. Zeitun.
          345422   Cpl.        Bisset, D.        Wounded. Zeitun.
          345080   L/Cpl.      Mackay, R.B.      Wounded. Zeitun.
          345565   L/Cpl.      M’Whirter, D.     Wounded. Zeitun.
            2491   L/Cpl.      Silvester, W.     Wounded. Zeitun.
           21715   L/Cpl.      Williams, J.P.    Died of wounds 28.12.17.
                                                  Zeitun.
          345425   Private     Braid, T.         Died of wounds 29.12.17.
                                                  Zeitun.
           26887   Private     Clunie, R.        Died of wounds 28.12.17.
                                                  Zeitun.
          345647   Private     Dunk, P.          Wounded. Zeitun.
          345838   Private     Ferguson, W.      Wounded. Zeitun.
            7194   Private     Freal, S.         Died of wounds 2.1.18.
                                                  Zeitun.
          345842   Private     Hickman, C.       Died of wounds. Zeitun.
          345384   Private     Knox, R.          Wounded. Zeitun.
           18716   Private     M’Intosh, E.      Wounded. Zeitun.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

27.12.17  345586   Private     M’Intyre, W.      Died of wounds 11.4.18.
                                                  Zeitun.
          345662   Private     M’Kendrick, A.    Wounded. Zeitun.
          345522   Private     M’Pherson, M.     Wounded. Zeitun.
           20368   Private     Paton, F.         Wounded. Zeitun.
          268743   Private     Patterson, A.     Wounded. Zeitun.
          240198   Private     Smith, R.M.       Wounded. Zeitun.
          345337   Private     Tocher, A.        Wounded. Zeitun.
           22243   Private     Van Riel, H.F.,   Wounded. Zeitun.
          345273   Sergt.      Halley, R.        Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Zeitun.
28.12.17           Lieut.      Johnstone, W.J.   Killed. Beitania.
                   2nd Lieut.  Paisley, G.W.     Killed (with A. & L.
                                                  Yeo.). Beitania.
          345200   Sergt.      Syme, W.          Killed. Beitania.
          345009   L/Sergt.    Oliver, R.        Killed. Beitania.
          345270   L/Cpl.      Dickson, W.       Killed. Beitania.
          345751   Private     Byrne, T.         Killed. Beitania.
          345815   Private     Crighton, C.      Killed. Beitania.
          241316   Private     M’Kinnon, A.      Killed. Beitania.
          345311   Private     Reid, J.          Killed. Beitania.
           18698   Private     Ross, D.          Killed. Beitania.
                   Captain     Duncan, P.F.      Wounded. Beitania.
                   2nd Lieut.  Cummings, D.      Wounded. Beitania.
                   2nd Lieut.  Haggart, J.       Died of wounds 3.1.18.
                                                  Beitania.
                   2nd Lieut.  Robson, P.L.      Wounded. Beitania.
          345053   Sergt.      Boath, W.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345273   Sergt.      Halley, R.        Wounded. Beitania.
          345165   Sergt.      Hogg, R.M.        Wounded. Beitania.
28.12.17  345404   L/Cpl.      Kilpatrick, W.    Died of wounds 29.12.17.
                                                  Beitania.
           18684   L/Cpl.      Rankine, T.       Wounded. Beitania.
          345511   L/Cpl.      Rodgerson, D.     Wounded. Beitania.
          345578   Private     Beveridge, R.     Wounded. Beitania.
          345786   Private     Blyth, G.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345194   Private     Brady, H.         Wounded. Beitania.
          203197   Private     Buntain, J.       Wounded. Beitania.
           16034   Private     Christie, G.D.    Wounded. Beitania.
            3688   Private     Cowan, A.         Wounded. Beitania.
           14709   Private     Davidson, A.      Died of wounds 30.12.17.
                                                  Beitania.
          345459   Private     Davidson, H.      Wounded. Beitania.
          340025   Private     Easson, W.        Wounded. Beitania.
          200549   Private     Flynn, W.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345236   Private     Henderson, W.     Wounded. Beitania.
           22027   Private     Inglis, J.        Wounded. Beitania.
          345252   Private     Johnstone, G.A.   Wounded. Beitania.
          240369   Private     M’Callum, W.      Wounded. Beitania.
           13009   Private     M’Ginley, R.      Wounded. Beitania.
          345613   Private     M’Kay, P.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345927   Private     M’Killop, P.      Wounded. Beitania.
           17064   Private     Minchella, P.     Wounded. Beitania.
           14227   Private     Mitchell, A.      Wounded. Beitania.
           21828   Private     Morrison, G.      Wounded. Beitania.
            8742   Private     Munro, S.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345682   Private     Potter, L.        Wounded. Beitania.
          345512   Private     Robertson, W.P.   Wounded. Beitania.
           20390   Private     Roper, J.         Wounded. Beitania.
           18978   Private     Small, A.         Wounded. Beitania.
           12500   Private     Smith, J.         Wounded. Beitania.
          345984   Private     Smith, W.         Wounded. Beitania.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

28.12.17  345209   Private     Spence, T.        Wounded. Beitania.
           21820   Private     Taylor, T.        Died of wounds 29.12.17.
                                                  Beitania.
           40617   Private     Watterson, J.     Wounded. Beitania.
          345745   Private     Wheeler, J.       Wounded. Beitania.
          345518   Private     Williamson, J.A.  Wounded. Beitania.
          345464   Private     Young, W.D.       Wounded. Beitania.
          345575   Private     Mitchell, W.      Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Beitania.
          345130   Private     Young, H.         Wounded and at duty.
                                                  Beitania.
14.4.17    12701   L/Cpl.      Drinnan, G.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Arcadian._
           18724   Private     Findlater, J.     Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Arcadian._
           18703   Private     Wann, R.          Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Arcadian._
           18697   Private     Williams, A.      Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Arcadian._
 4.5.17    20373   Private     Brown, W.J.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20880   Private     Chisholm, A.      Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20386   Private     Denholm, J.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20380   Private     Houston, W.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20393   Private     Jones, W.L.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20366   Private     Shenken, P.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20890   Private     Smith, J.         Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20893   Private     Stewart, C.       Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
           20867   Private     Thompson, J.      Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Transylvania._
30.12.17  202466   L/Cpl.      Stenhouse, J.     Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Aragon._
          266648   Private     Small, R.         Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Aragon._
          292849   Private     Wood, E.          Drowned ex H.M.T.,
                                                  _Aragon._
 20.3.17  345774   Private     Reid, J.          Died.
 14.4.17  345736   Private     Shepherd, J.      Died.
12.11.17  345411   Private     Melville, J.      Died.
 4.12.17  345494   Private     Ewing, A.         Died.
 10.3.18   20121   Private     Keith, J.         Wounded and at duty.
 22.3.18  300030   Sergt.      Livingstone       Wounded and at duty.
                               R.A.M.C. (attached).
 26.3.18  345445   Private     Ferguson, R.      Killed.
          345140   Private     Carrie, A.F.      Wounded.
          345852   Private     M’Guffog, A.      Wounded.
          345130   Private     Young, H.         Wounded.
          345104   Cpl.        Conacher, J.      Wounded and at duty.
  2.4.18  345550   Private     Fagan, H.         Wounded and at duty.
  6.4.18           Captain     Down, N.C.S.      Wounded.
          345021   C.Q.M.S.    Blyth, D.         Wounded and at duty.
          345648   Private     Devlin, C.        Wounded and at duty.
          345177   Private     Ramsay, J.        Wounded and at duty.
 24.7.18  345636   Cpl.        Bruce, W.         Wounded.
          345395   L/Cpl.      Wright, W.        Wounded.
           22156   Private     Bingham, J.       Wounded.
          345699   Private     Rodger, A.        Wounded.
          345884   Private     Young, J.         Wounded.
          345157   Sergt.      Paris, J.         Wounded and at duty.
            9090   Cpl.        Halkett, J.       Wounded and at duty.
          345646   Private     Clark, C.         Wounded and at duty.
           20881   Private     Florence, R.      Wounded and at duty.
           15200   Private     Fraser, D.        Wounded and at duty.
           22177   Private     Heddleston, J.    Wounded and at duty.
          345655   Private     Herd, J.          Wounded and at duty.
          345669   Private     Samson, A.        Wounded and at duty.
 25.7.18   18192   Private     Findlay, W.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  24.9.18.
 31.7.18  203396   Private     Braynion, W.      Wounded.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

  4.8.18           2nd Lieut.  Fraser, H.L.      Wounded.
          345277   Sergt.      Campbell, W.      Wounded.
          345447   Private     Allen, J.         Wounded.
          345559   Private     Donald, J.        Wounded.
          345628   Private     M’Fadden, H.      Wounded.
          203190   Private     Nimmo, R.         Wounded.
           21837   Private     Taylor, J.        Wounded.
          345438   Private     Wilson, A.        Wounded.
          345237   Private     Cameron, D.       Wounded and at duty.
          345968   Private     Mann, G.          Wounded and at duty.
  5.8.18  346042   Private     Morgan, G.        Wounded and at duty.
           20888   Private     Kane, J.          Wounded and at duty.
  7.8.18   11944   Private     Walker, D.        Killed.
          315095   Sergt.      M’Niven, A.,      Wounded.
                               R.A.M.C. (attached).
           11463   Private     Armour, J.        Wounded.
           16360   Private     Berry, C.         Wounded.
          345500   Private     Hunter, J.        Wounded.
          345252   Private     Johnston, G.A.    Wounded.
          345824   Private     Meldrum, A.       Wounded.
           22031   Private     Todd, M.          Wounded.
  8.8.18   20879   L/Cpl.      Strachan, J.      Killed.
          268173   Private     Aitken, J.        Killed.
           15200   Private     Fraser, D.        Killed.
           22157   Private     Wilson, A.        Killed.
           13697   Cpl.        Hardinge, A.      Wounded.
  8.8.18  345530   Cpl.        Mackie, C.B.      Wounded.
          345466   Private     Brady, J.         Wounded.
           20881   Private     Florence, R.      Wounded.
          345607   Private     Greenhill, R.     Wounded.
           22162   Private     Kilgour, W.       Wounded.
            8885   Private     Kirk, G.          Wounded.
          345790   Private     M’Coubray, J.     Wounded.
          266686   Private     M’Rae, R.         Wounded.
            2592   Private     Paul, J.          Wounded.
                               (attached T.M.B.)
          345472   Private     Wilson, J.        Wounded.
  9.8.18   16403   Private     Wilson, G.        Killed.
                   Private     (attached T.M.B.)
           20677   Private     Edmiston, J.      Wounded.
          345682   Private     Potter, L.        Wounded.
           22183   Private     Simpson, J.       Wounded.
          346013   Private     Wilson, A.        Wounded.
          345575   Private     Scott, A.         Wounded and at duty.
          345435   Private     White, H.         Wounded and at duty.
                               (229th Brigade H.Q.).
10.8.18     6153   Private     Frizzell, R.      Killed.
          345318   L/Cpl.      Nicol, J.         Wounded.
           18683   Private     Connelly, J.      Wounded.
          345754   Private     Crighton, A.      Wounded.
          345647   Private     Dunk, P.          Wounded.
            5036   Private     Osborne, W.       Wounded.
          203198   Private     Stewart, A.       Wounded and at duty.
 13.8.18  345413   Private     Robertson, R.     Wounded and at duty.
 25.8.18   20376   Private     Woodward, R.A.    Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  27.8.18.
            9344   Private     Murray, W.        Wounded and at duty.
  2.9.18           Captain     Stewart, R.W.     Killed. Moislains.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

  2.9.18           Captain     Nairn, I.C., M.C. Killed. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Darney, C.E.      Killed. Moislains.
          345028   Sergt.      M’Kenzie, W.      Killed. Moislains.
          345950   L/Sergt.    Hedley, W.        Killed. Moislains.
          345988   L/Sergt.    Walton, F.        Killed. Moislains.
          345390   Cpl.        Keith, W.         Killed. Moislains.
          345105   L/Cpl.      Boyd, W.          Killed. Moislains.
          345355   L/Cpl.      Husband, W.       Killed. Moislains.
          345553   Private     Anderson, R.      Killed. Moislains.
          345638   Private     Benson, H.        Killed. Moislains.
          345577   Private     Bissett, A.       Killed. Moislains.
           22250   Private     Blair, D.         Killed. Moislains.
          345561   Private     Calder, J.        Killed. Moislains.
           22141   Private     Cooper, W.A.      Killed. Moislains.
           16513   Private     Duncan, T.        Killed. Moislains.
          203208   Private     Elder, G.         Killed. Moislains.
          201336   Private     Ferguson, J.      Killed. Moislains.
          345760   Private     Hamilton, R.      Killed. Moislains.
           22177   Private     Heddleston, J.    Killed. Moislains.
          345842   Private     Hickman, C.       Killed. Moislains.
          203207   Private     Irwin, J.         Killed. Moislains.
           20121   Private     Keith, J.         Killed. Moislains.
          201992   Private     Lambie, H.        Killed. Moislains.
           13703   Private     M’Ilwain, A.      Killed. Moislains.
          345587   Private     M’Laggan, J.      Killed. Moislains.
          345726   Private     M’Lean, T.        Killed. Moislains.
  2.9.18  345968   Private     Mann, G.          Killed. Moislains.
          345149   Private     Melville, L.W.    Killed. Moislains.
          345526   Private     Millar, R.        Killed. Moislains.
          345260   Private     Moonie, J.W.      Killed. Moislains.
            9344   Private     Murray, W.        Killed. Moislains.
          203204   Private     Reid, J.          Killed. Moislains.
           29712   Private     Reid, R.          Killed. Moislains.
          345733   Private     Rodger, J.        Killed. Moislains.
           20371   Private     Shanks, A.        Killed. Moislains.
           22831   Private     Smith, R.         Killed. Moislains.
           22180   Private     Sneddon, P.       Killed. Moislains.
            3875   Private     Thomson, J.       Killed. Moislains.
          345866   Private     Wilkie, A.        Killed. Moislains.
                   Lt.-Col.    Younger, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
                   Captain     M’Nab, J.B.       Wounded. Moislains.
                   Lieut.      Duncan, C.G.      Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Clydesdale, R.A.  Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Laing, J.E.       Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Grant, J.W.       Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Dawes, J.W.       Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Van Millingen,    Wounded. Moislains.
                                D.F.
                   2nd Lieut.  Craigen, J.W.W.   Wounded. Moislains.
                   2nd Lieut.  Dickie, J.A.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345001   C.S.M.      Aitken, A.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  2.9.18.
          345136   Sergt.      Andrews, A.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345097   Sergt.      Farmer, D.        Wounded. Moislains.
            6069   Sergt.      Green, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345887   Sergt.      M’Donald, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
            3796   Sergt.      M’Laren, P.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  3.9.18.
            5306   Sergt.      Meiklejohn, T.    Wounded. Moislains.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

  2.9.18  345941   Sergt.      Mickel, H.W.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345886   Sergt.      Spence, J.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  7.9.18.
            9090   L/Sergt.    Halkett, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345920   Cpl.        Airth, C.         Wounded. Moislains.
            3056   Cpl.        Blues, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345811   Cpl.        Brown, A.         Wounded. Moislains.
           22194   Cpl.        Cattanach, T.J.   Wounded. Moislains.
          345242   Cpl.        Cheape, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
           18847   Cpl.        Douglas, S.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  5.9.18.
          345721   Cpl.        Marnock, W.       Wounded. Moislains.
            5357   Cpl.        M‘Dougal, T.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22188   Cpl.        Price, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345580   L/Cpl.      Deans, S.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345094   L/Cpl.      Dickie, H.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  4.9.18.
                               (D.C.M.)
           14721   L/Cpl.      Duncan, F.        Wounded. Moislains.
           11279   L/Cpl.      Eddie, R.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345342   L/Cpl.      Greig, W.T.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345993   L/Cpl.      Hall, T.D.        Wounded. Moislains.
           20864   L/Cpl.      Jessiman, W.      Wounded. Moislains.
          202135   L/Cpl.      M’Intyre, D.      Wounded. Moislains.
          265246   L/Cpl.      Manuel, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345969   L/Cpl.      Milton, M.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345670   L/Cpl.      Smith, P.         Wounded. Moislains.
          203198   L/Cpl.      Stewart, A.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345525   L/Cpl.      Wilson, F.        Wounded. Moislains.
           22192   Private     Alexander, G.     Wounded. Moislains.
  2.9.18  345167   Private     Alexander, R.     Wounded. Moislains.
           41422   Private     Allan, W.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345889   Private     Anderson, A.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345639   Private     Anderson, D.      Wounded. Moislains.
           16495   Private     Belford, J.B.     Wounded. Moislains.
          346023   Private     Bibb, H.          Wounded. Moislains.
           22164   Private     Blackwood, G.T.   Wounded. Moislains.
          345371   Private     Blyth, W.         Wounded. Moislains.
          290402   Private     Brown, D.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345955   Private     Buchan, M.        Wounded. Moislains.
          203197   Private     Buntain, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
          241199   Private     Burgess, A.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345257   Private     Burnett, H.       Wounded. Moislains.
           20750   Private     Burns, G.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345891   Private     Cameron, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345268   Private     Campbell, G.W.    Wounded. Moislains.
          267932   Private     Campbell, T.W.    Wounded. Moislains.
           40460   Private     Carmichael, D.    Wounded. Moislains.
          345940   Private     Cassells, W.      Wounded. Moislains.
           20876   Private     Chalmers, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
          241313   Private     Clarkson, J.R.    Wounded. Moislains.
          290777   Private     Colville, H.      Wounded. Moislains.
           41439   Private     Cooney, B.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345310   Private     Cran, J.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345703   Private     Davidson, A.      Wounded. Moislains.
           20882   Private     Donnett, W.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345207   Private     Dow, R.           Wounded. Moislains.
          202972   Private     Dunipace, W.      Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  6.9.18.
           14723   Private     Eadie, F.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345101   Private     Edwards, G.R.     Wounded. Moislains.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

  2.9.18  345593   Private     Ewing, A.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345550   Private     Fagan, H.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345215   Private     Fairley, D.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345759   Private     Fleming, W.       Wounded. Moislains.
          346007   Private     Flockhart, D.     Wounded. Moislains.
          345789   Private     Gardiner, R.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345961   Private     Gillan, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
          241346   Private     Gow, W.           Wounded. Moislains.
          345267   Private     Greig, J.G.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345651   Private     Hagan, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345569   Private     Haines, L.        Wounded. Moislains.
          346040   Private     Hanlon, G.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345653   Private     Hay, J.           Wounded. Moislains.
          345655   Private     Herd, J.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345143   Private     Hirst, S.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345844   Private     Honeyman, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
            9620   Private     Hunter, W.        Wounded. Moislains.
          290189   Private     Hutchison, W.     Wounded. Moislains.
            5308   Private     Inglis, W.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345845   Private     Jamieson, D.      Wounded. Moislains.
           20888   Private     Kane, J.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345657   Private     Lang, J.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345720   Private     Lightfoot, J.     Wounded. Moislains.
          345271   Private     M’Askill, A.      Wounded. Moislains.
          265722   Private     M’Callum, C.      Wounded. Moislains.
          268529   Private     M’Diarmid, D.     Wounded. Moislains.
  2.9.18  345975   Private     M’Donald, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
          340008   Private     M’Donald, T.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22182   Private     M’Dowell, G.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22324   Private     M’Kay, F.         Wounded. Moislains.
          346028   Private     M’Kenzie, A.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22187   Private     M’Kenzie, W.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345552   Private     M’Kenna, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345661   Private     M’Millan, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22204   Private     Marchant, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22198   Private     Mearns, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
          266895   Private     Merrylees, A.     Wounded. Moislains.
          340011   Private     Milne, J.S.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345660   Private     Mitchell, D.J.    Wounded. Moislains.
           22142   Private     Mitchell, W.      Wounded. Moislains.
          345554   Private     Montgomery, J.    Wounded. Moislains.
          346008   Private     Morris, W.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345910   Private     Murray, T.        Wounded. Moislains.
           43455   Private     Ness, T.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345119   Private     Niven, R.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  6.9.18.
          340027   Private     Norrie, A.        Wounded. Moislains.
           43301   Private     Ogilvie, D.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345276   Private     Page, D.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345619   Private     Petrie, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
           16698   Private     Philip, A.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345682   Private     Potter, L.        Wounded. Moislains.
           41524   Private     Rait, T.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345321   Private     Ramsay, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345278   Private     Reid, J.          Wounded. Moislains.
          345977   Private     Reid, M.D.        Wounded. Moislains.
           20873   Private     Richardson, T.    Wounded. Moislains.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

  2.9.18  345457   Private     Robertson, A.G.   Wounded. Moislains.
           22178   Private     Rutherford, J.    Wounded. Moislains.
           21831   Private     Rutherford, P.    Wounded. Moislains.
          240382   Private     Scott, A.         Wounded. Moislains.
            2901   Private     Scott, W.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345685   Private     Simpson, T.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345807   Private     Smart, J.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  4.10.18.
          345412   Private     Smeaton, W.       Wounded. Moislains.
           18102   Private     Smith, J.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  2.9.18.
          346043   Private     Smith, W.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345209   Private     Spence, T.        Wounded. Moislains.
           22230   Private     Stewart, G.C.     Wounded. Moislains.
           21843   Private     Stewart, H.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345931   Private     Stewart, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
           22159   Private     Sturrock, D.K.    Wounded. Moislains.
           22155   Private     Summers, G.       Wounded. Moislains.
           17654   Private     Tallent, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
          345147   Private     Thomson, G.       Wounded. Moislains.
          203426   Private     Tod, D.           Wounded. Moislains.
          267695   Private     Turnbull, J.      Wounded. Moislains.
           21832   Private     Twaddle, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
           19848   Private     Twist, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
          345743   Private     Walkenshaw, A.    Wounded. Moislains.
           17817   Private     Walker, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
           20325   Private     Watson, R.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345745   Private     Wheeler, J.       Wounded. Moislains.
  2.9.18  345389   Private     Whitehead, J.     Wounded. Moislains.
          340024   Private     Whyte, J.         Wounded. Moislains.
           20392   Private     Williams, E.      Wounded. Moislains.
          346022   Private     Williams, H.      Wounded. Moislains.
           20363   Private     Wilson, J.        Wounded. Moislains.
          345146   Private     Wilson, R.        Wounded. Moislains.
            6949   Private     Wilson, W.        Wounded. Moislains.
           15883   Private     Yacamini, R.      Wounded. Moislains.
           22331   Private     Gunn, G.          Wounded and missing.
                   2nd Lieut.  M’Lean, J.        Wounded and at duty.
                   2nd Lieut.  Brodie Brown, T.  Wounded and at duty.
                   2nd Lieut.  Cruickshank, I.W. Wounded and at duty.
          345943   Sergt.      Campbell, D.      Wounded and at duty.
          345660   Private     Boylan, J.        Wounded and at duty.
          345870   Private     Horne, W.         Wounded and at duty.
           20389   Private     Kearsey, A.G.     Wounded and at duty.
           21855   Private     Livingstone, A.   Wounded and at duty.
  3.9.18           Lieut.      Drysdale, J.C.    Wounded.
  9.9.18   21839   Private     Robb, J.          Wounded and at duty.
                                                  St Emilie.
 10.9.18  345125   Cpl.        Ritchie, J.W.     Killed. St Emilie.
           15546   Private     Davidson, J.      Killed. St Emilie.
          345959   Private     Dawson, J.        Killed. St Emilie.
           22147   Private     Donaldson, T.     Killed. St Emilie.
          340017   Private     Ford, J.          Killed. St Emilie.
          345253   Private     Geekie, J.A.P.    Killed. St Emilie.
           20365   Private     Halliday, D.      Killed. St Emilie.
          345659   Private     Martin, W.        Killed. St Emilie.
          203406   Private     Munro, W.         Killed. St Emilie.
           43045   Private     Nairn, J.         Killed. St Emilie.
          340007   Private     O’Key, J.         Killed. St Emilie.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

 10.9.18  345978   Private     Rennie, H.        Killed. St Emilie.
          346033   Private     Slater, J.        Killed. St Emilie.
           20361   Private     Smith, R.         Killed. St Emilie.
           15545   Private     Younger, C.       Killed. St Emilie.
          345092   L/Cpl.      Coupar, D.L.      Missing, presumed
                                                  killed. St Emilie.
           41665   Private     M’Connachie, W.   Missing, presumed
                                                  killed. St Emilie.
           21830   Private     Perston, W.       Missing, presumed
                                                  killed. St Emilie.
          345313   Private     Ramsay, J.W.      Missing, presumed
                                                  killed. St Emilie.
                   2nd Lieut.  M’Lean, J.        Wounded. St Emilie.
                   2nd Lieut.  Cruickshank, I.W. Wounded. St Emilie.
          345946   Sergt.      Mackie, A.        Wounded. St Emilie.
          345054   Cpl.        Fleming, A.       Wounded. St Emilie.
          345684   Cpl.        Smart, A.         Wounded. St Emilie.
          345376   L/Cpl.      Cooper, A.        Wounded. St Emilie.
          345869   L/Cpl.      Craig, J.         Wounded. St Emilie.
          345391   Private     Bett, J.          Wounded. St Emilie.
          345258   Private     Boath, L.         Wounded. St Emilie.
          310082   Private     Brebner, C.       Died of wounds 10.9.18.
                                                  St Emilie.
          345957   Private     Cameron, W.       Wounded. St Emilie.
           18316   Private     Dorward, W.       Wounded. St Emilie.
          345309   Private     Henderson, J.     Wounded. St Emilie.
          345610   Private     Laing, T.         Wounded. St Emilie.
           18799   Private     Lowson, D.        Died of wounds 11.9.18.
                                                  St Emilie.
          345034   Private     Peter, D.S.       Wounded. St Emilie.
          345556   Private     Robertson, J.     Wounded. St Emilie.
           20367   Private     Robin, D.         Wounded. St Emilie.
 10.9.18   20390   Private     Roper, J.         Died of wounds 11.9.18.
                                                  St Emilie.
           17741   Private     Sharp, W.         Wounded. St Emilie.
          350163   Private     Thomson, C.       Wounded. St Emilie.
           21676   Private     Wallace, J.       Wounded. St Emilie.
          345114   Private     Wilson, A.        Wounded. St Emilie.
          345672   Private     Wylie, H.         Wounded. St Emilie.
           22190   Private     Young, W.         Wounded. St Emilie.
          345947   Sergt.      M’Gregor, H.      Prisoner of war.
          345106   Sergt.      M’Lellan, J.R.    Prisoner of war.
          345637   Cpl.        Davidson, D.      Prisoner of war.
          345231   Private     Annand, A.A.      Prisoner of war.
          345934   Private     Davidson, R.      Prisoner of war.
           20136   Private     Gray, D.          Prisoner of war.
          345103   Private     Greig, J.R.       Prisoner of war.
          340005   Private     Henderson, J.F.   Prisoner of war.
          345927   Private     M’Killop, D.      Prisoner of war. Wounded.
           16473   Private     Nisbet, R.        Prisoner of war. Wounded.
           30372   Private     Sharp, M.         Prisoner of war. Wounded.
           22206   Private     Wilson, W.A.      Prisoner of war. Wounded.
          345153   Private     Henderson, J.     Wounded and at duty.
                                                  St Emilie.
 18.9.18  200328   Private     Bonnar, G.        Killed.
          345266   Private     M’Donald, A.      Killed.
           18460   Private     M’Lean, J.        Killed.
                   2nd Lieut.  Stuart, H.C.      Wounded.
          345400   L/Cpl.      Henderson, A.     Wounded.
          345428   Private     Beal, J.          Wounded.
          345917   Private     Cairncross, H.    Wounded.
          345312   Private     Calderhead, J.    Wounded.
           24486   Private     Campbell, D.      Wounded.
          345591   Private     Cummings, J.      Wounded.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

 18.9.18   22915   Private     Gordon, C.        Wounded.
           23586   Private     Greenwood, J.     Wounded.
           41264   Private     Ireland, P.       Wounded.
            2439   Private     Kelly, T.         Wounded.
           40294   Private     M’Donald, A.      Wounded.
          345791   Private     M’Hardy, A.       Wounded.
           20486   Private     M’Kenzie, R.      Wounded.
          345184   Private     Maloney, J.       Died of wounds 29.9.18.
           41060   Private     Mann, R.          Wounded.
          345971   Private     Marshall, J.      Wounded.
          345690   Private     Meldrum, F.       Wounded.
          345046   Private     Nicoll, R.        Wounded.
          345163   Private     Ramage, J.        Wounded.
          345474   Private     Smart, A.         Wounded.
          345501   Private     Soutar, W.        Wounded.
          345068   Private     Storrar, M.       Wounded.
            6630   Private     Strachan, D.      Wounded.
           14374   Private     Walker, J.        Wounded.
 20.9.18   22158   Private     Grant, R.         Wounded.
 21.9.18   18725   Private     Cant, A.          Killed.
           22151   Private     Cubbon, E.        Killed.
          340025   Private     Easson, W.        Killed.
          346049   Private     Forbes, J.A.      Killed.
           25324   Private     Morrison, D.L.    Killed.
          346034   Cpl.        Thom, J.          Wounded.
           14766   Private     Bain, A.          Wounded.
 21.9.18  345967   Private     M’Crae, M.        Wounded.
           22191   Private     Penman, J.        Wounded.
           25317   Private     Philp, A.         Wounded.
          345364   Private     Summers, R.       Wounded.
          345102   Private     M‘Dougal, G.      Wounded and at duty.
 22.9.18  345220   Private     Lessells, W.      Killed.
                   2nd Lieut.  Innes, D. M’L.    Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  7.10.18.
            7206   C.Q.M.S.    Elder, J.         Wounded.
           18322   Cpl.        Smith, R.         Wounded.
           15110   L/Cpl.      Livingstone, E.   Wounded.
          202414   L/Cpl.      Rader, J.         Wounded.
            2929   Private     Birrell, D.       Wounded.
           18699   Private     Condie, M.        Wounded.
          213313   Private     Cooper, J.        Wounded.
          345818   Private     Etchels, T.       Wounded.
          345607   Private     Finnigan, R.      Wounded.
           20754   Private     Grierson, W.      Wounded.
          240503   Private     Hunter, A.S.      Wounded.
           25317   Private     Philip, A.        Wounded.
            7536   Private     Pringle, J.       Wounded.
           25326   Private     Rankine, W.       Wounded.
           25448   Private     Reid, E.          Wounded.
           25316   Private     Ritchie, J.       Wounded.
           25365   Private     Robertson, J.     Wounded.
           25348   Private     Strachan, T.      Wounded.
          345783   Private     M’Aree, A.        Wounded and at duty.
 23.9.18   25217   Private     Smart, J.         Killed.
           25451   Private     Allan, R.         Wounded.
           25452   Private     Gilchrist, J.     Wounded.
           25344   Private     Inglis, R.V.      Wounded.

DATE.    REGT.      RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
         NO.

 24.9.18 S/22207   Private     Coutts, A.G.      Killed.
         S/22027   Private     Inglis, J.        Killed.
                   2nd Lieut.  Fell, F.J.        Wounded.
           24050   Private     Appleby, H.       Wounded.
          293071   Private     Boath, W.         Wounded.
           16545   Private     Craik, A.         Wounded.
           22148   Private     Henderson, D.     Wounded.
          203189   Private     M’Donald, J.R.    Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  25.9.18.
           17064   Private     Minchella, P.     Wounded.
           25402   Private     Wallace, D.       Wounded.
15.10.18           2nd Lieut.  Stevenson, E.J.   Wounded.
          345958   Private     Christison, G.    Wounded.
          345925   Private     Guthrie, J.       Wounded.
            6007   Private     Laird, W.         Wounded.
16.10.18  345662   Private     M’Kendrick, A.    Killed.
          345979   Private     Ross, T.          Killed.
                    Lieut.     Ewart, R.H.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
                   2nd Lieut.  Wood, A.R.,
                                D.C.M., M.M.     Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
          345018   C.S.M.      Henderson, W.     Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
          293071   L/Cpl.      Boath, W.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
          345403   Private     Gilmour, A.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
          345323   Private     Goodall, J.       Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
           13428   Private     Ross, A.          Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
           21686   Private     Sharp, A.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  16.10.18.
           25377   Private     Barclay, L.       Wounded and at duty.
          345456   Private     Mitchell, D.      Wounded and at duty.
16.10.18    5116   Private     Skinner, E.       Wounded and at duty.
21.10.18   19537   Private     Haggart, J.       Killed.
            7817   L/Cpl.      Anderson, W.      Wounded.
          202903   Private     Adams, C.         Wounded.
           17894   Private     Bruce, D.         Wounded.
           21184   Private     Laird, J.         Wounded.
           21152   Private     Lally, D.         Wounded.
          268963   Private     M’Gee, A.B.       Wounded.
           21100   Private     Penny, E.         Wounded.
          315708   Private     Simpson, T.       Wounded.
22.10.18  345055   Sergt.      Bayne, A.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  22.10.18.
          345321   Private     Ramsay, J.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  22.10.18.
23.10.18           2nd Lieut.  Cumming, F.K.     Killed.
           26870   L/Cpl.      Izatt, R., M.M.   Killed.
           25462   Private     Barber, J.        Killed.
            9729   Private     Bartie, T.        Killed.
           15814   Private     Campbell, J.      Killed.
           12506   Private     Cockburn, T.      Killed.
            6158   Private     Sowerby, E.       Killed.
           25347   Private     Walker, T.        Killed.
           25378   Private     Webb, A.          Killed.
                   2nd Lieut.  Robertson, R.     Wounded.
          345943   Sergt.      Campbell, D.      Wounded.
          345490   L/Cpl.      Crawford, D.      Wounded.
           25376   L/Cpl.      Patterson, R.     Wounded.
            6006   L/Cpl.      Spence, W.        Wounded.
           14539   Private     Anderson, D.      Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  26.10.18.
            6145   Private     Black, P.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  26.10.18.
           25199   Private     Conway, J.        Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  26.10.18.
           25719   Private     Davidson, R.      Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  26.10.18.

DATE.     REGT.     RANK.      NAME.             REMARKS.
          NO.

23.10.18  345818   Private     Etchels, T.       Wounded.
            5950   Private     Kemp, A.          Wounded.
            5255   Private     M‘Dougall, A.     Wounded.
            6176   Private     M‘Ilroy, B.       Wounded.
           25346   Private     M‘Kay, H.         Wounded.
          203311   Private     M‘Lean, D.        Wounded.
           16171   Private     Reekie, J.        Wounded.
           25656   Private     Rough, D.         Wounded.
           14611   Private     Russell, A.       Wounded.
          267921   Private     Scott, W.         Wounded.
           25368   Private     Stevenson, G.     Wounded.
           43388   Private     Swift, J.         Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  24.10.18.
                   2nd Lieut.  Mathewson, J.S.   Wounded and at duty.
          345074   Sergt.      Leitch, J.J.      Wounded and at duty.
           20377   L/Cpl.      Sinclair, J.      Wounded and at duty.
          340030   Private     M’Donell, D.      Wounded and at duty.
          345982   Private     Robertson, A.     Wounded and at duty.
          290566   Private     Watson, R.B.      Wounded and at duty.
 1.11.18           Captain     Colthart, R.H.    Wounded. Died of wounds
                                                  2.11.18.
          345298   Cpl.        Matthew, R.       Wounded.
           14770   Private     Craig, D.         Wounded.
          345770   Private     Nicol, A.         Wounded.
          345211   Private     O’Malley, J.      Wounded and at duty.
 14.4.18  345305   Private     Morrison, G.      Died of disease.
  4.1.18  345881   Private     Melville, C.      Died of disease.
  1.2.18  265831   Private     Walker, H.        Died of disease.




TOTAL CASUALTIES.


OFFICERS.

Killed                            12
Died of wounds                     9
Wounded                           32
Wounded and remaining at duty      5
                                  ——  58


N.C.Os. and MEN.

Killed                           188
Died of wounds                    46
Missing                            5
Died of disease                   15
Drowned                           16
Wounded                          568
Wounded and remaining at duty     52
Prisoners of war                  20
                                 ——— 910


                Grand Total          968




INDEX


_Abassiyeh_, the, 14

Abbas Apex Sector, 56

Abu-el-Zeitun, attack on, 97

Abu Sitta, 60

Adamson, Lieut. H., 126, 154

Aeroplanes, 43

African War, the South, 162

Ain Arik, 109;
  Ridge, 92

Ain Kohleh, 64

Ain Sinai, 112

Ain Yebrud, 112

Aire, 122, 123

Aitken, C.S.M. A., death, 130, 157

Aizecourt, 130

Ajalon, 107, 108;
  Valley of, 108

Alexandria, 13, 28, 30, 117

Ali-el-Muntar, 51, 52, 71, 73

Allaines, attack on, 128

Allenby, General, advance on Damascus, 117

Alma, battle of the, 161

Alpini Corps, 129

American Battalion, the 106th, 136

Amiens, 136

Amurieh, raid on, 115, 157

Amwas, 108, 116

Anafarta, 24

_Andania_, H.M.T., 10, 14, 142

Andrew, Capt. R.A., tribute to, 105;
  instructions to his men, 108;
  at Baquerolles Farm, 124;
  return to Kirkcaldy, 142;
  called “Arizona,” 151;
  death, 152

Anzac, 17

Armistice, signed, 139

Artaxerxes Post, 135

Ascq, 137

Assiut, 31

Australian Division, the 1st, 134;
  at Sohag, 32

Ayr and Lanark Yeomanry, 53, 56;
  attack on Mahmeh, 97;
  advance on Beitania, 101;
  at Amwas, 108;
  raid on Amurieh, 115;
  new brigade, 121

Azmac Dere, 19, 23, 24;
  raid on, 19


Bab-el-Muallek, 90

Babington, Lieut. G., 148

Baisieux, 137, 138

Balfour, General, of Balbirnie, commanding the Fifeshire Yeomanry
Cavalry, 161

Baluah, Lake, 110

Baquerolles Farm, 124

Batchelor, Private, 157

Beclers, 139

Beersheba, attack on, 61–63

Beit Iksa, 89, 91;
  capture of, 86

Beit Sira, 78, 106, 109

Beit-ur-el-Foka, attack on, 83

Beit-ur-el-Tahta, 83, 85, 106

Beitania, 92;
  advance on, 101–103

Beitin, 111

Benjamin Post, 135

Berguette, 137

Beris, 34

Bethel, 111

Bethhoron, the Upper, 83

Birdwood, General Sir W.,
  inspection by, 126

Bireh, 92, 103, 116

Black Watch, 6th and 8th Battns., 141

Blairgowrie, 1–4

Bouchavesnes, 127

Boulak, 34

Boulogne, 141

Bourecq, 137

Bradfield, Sergeant-Major, 155

Brigade, the 159th, 113;
  the 160th, 113;
  the 229th, 66, 130, 137;
  the 230th, 66, 67, 121, 130, 139;
  at the battle of Sheria, 68;
  the 231st, 67, 121, 137, 139

“Broken Spur” badge, 144

Brown, Lieut. T. Brodie, 131, 132, 133;
  M.C. conferred, 165

Brown, Capt. W.D., adjutant, 148;
  killed, 98;
  tribute to, 105

Buffs, the 10th, 138

Burj Lisaneh, 111

Byng, Major-Gen. Sir Julian, 19


Calonne, 127

Camel, a racing, 32

Camerons, the 10th, 35

Campbell, Capt. P., 102;
  raid on Amurieh, 115

Campbell, Capt. Sir W.A.A., 114, 149

Canal du Nord, advance on, 128

Cape Town, 147

Caracol Dagh, 17

Carbine Trench, 135

Carnegy, Capt. P.A.W., commanding the Forfarshire Light Horse
Volunteer Corps, 146

Carvin Farm, 124

Casualties, list of, 168–203

Chetwode, Lieut.-Gen. Sir P.W., commanding Eastern Force, inspects the
Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 56;
  presents medals, 71

Christiana, capture of, 147

Clackmannan, 2

Clarence River, 123

Clark, Lieut.-Col. J., 150

Cloud-burst, at Gara, 32, 39

Collier, Sergeant W., 149, 157;
  attack on the Germans, 132

Colthart, Capt. R.H., adjutant, 117, 133;
  Quartermaster, 40, 153;
  killed, 138

Cooper, Sergeant, 152

Corbie, 136

Corps III. attack on the Germans, 134

Corps XX., 70

Corps XXI., 70;
  pursues the Turkish forces, 72;
  at Junction Station, 76

Corps Cavalry, 67

Craig, Sergeant J., 155

Craig, Lieut. D., D.S.O., conferred, 156

Crawford, Earl of, Colonel Commandant of the Fife Yeomanry Cavalry, 160

Cruickshank, Lieut. I.W., 115;
  attack on the Germans, 132

Cummins, Capt. W.W. (“George Washington,”) 151

Cupar, 2


Daisies, mauve, 50

Dakhla, 37

Damascus, 117

Dane, Lieut. P., 134

Darney, Lieut. C.E., killed, 130

Davis, L.-Cpl. J. 157

Deir-el-Belah, 49, 56, 57, 59

Deir Ibzia Ridge, 92

Deir Sineid, 73

Demobilization of the British Army, 140–142

Denbigh Yeomanry, the 24th Battalion, 121

Devonport, 10

Devonshire Regiment, the 16th (Royal 1st Devon Yeomanry), 56;
  at Beitania, 101;
  Yalo, 107;
  attack on Moislains, 128

Division, the 10th, 66, 67, 85;
  advance on Bireh, 92;
  capture Foka, 93;
  the 52nd, 49, 79;
  the 53rd, 61, 65, 116;
  the 54th, 49, 57;
  the 55th, 139;
  the 57th, 139;
  the 58th, 131, 132;
  the 59th, 127;
  the 60th, attack on Beersheba, 62–64;
    on Tel-el-Sheria, 67;
    advance on the Nablus road, 92;
  the 74th, 131, 136;
    attack on Beersheba, 62–64

Don, Lieut. W.G., 148

Drysdale, Lieut. J.C., 117;
  tribute to, 104;
  wounded, 130

Dumb-bell Hill Sector, 54

Duncan, Lieut. C.G., advance
  on the Turbeauté River, 125;
  wounded, 130

Dundee, 2

Dundee Wadi, 67

Dunfermline, 2

Dunkirk, 141

Durham, Private, 158


East Kent Regiment, the 10th, 133

Edie, Sergeant-Major, 154

Edinburgh, Royal Review in, 162

Egyptian Lancers, at Sherika, 33

El Arish, 42–45

El Buggar, 61;
  attack on, 60

El Burj, 45;
  capture of, 86, 89

El Burjaliye, 52

El Ferdan, 41, 42

El Jib, 83

El Mendur, 52

El Muntar, 101

Elder, Sergeant-Major, 157

Enab, 86, 104

Epehy, 131

Erskine, Lieut.-Col. T.H., of Grangemuir, 163

Erskine, Sir William, 160

Essex Regiments, the 5th and 7th, 53

Etaples, 120


Fakenham, 7–10

Fanatis, or copper vessels, 44

Faustine Quarry, 134

Fencible Cavalry, 159

Ferguson, Sergeant, 126

Field Ambulance, the 229th, at Yalo, 107

Fife, 2

Fife and Forfar Imperial Yeomanry, 163

Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, at Blairgowrie, 1–4;
  St Ives, 4;
  training, 4, 7, 38, 41, 56, 59, 120, 140;
  inspections, 4, 8, 56, 126, 140;
  at Skegness, 6;
  Fakenham, 7–10;
  sports, 7, 32, 36, 59, 140;
  voyage to Gallipoli, 10–14;
  in the trenches, 15–26;
  journey to Sidi Bishr, 28;
  casualties, 29, 68, 100, 104, 130;
  at Mena Camp, 30;
  Minia, 31;
  Sohag, 31;
  Gara, 32, 38;
  Sherika, 32–38;
  Moascar, 39, 41;
  the 14th Battalion, Royal Highlanders, 41;
  in camp at El Ferdan, 41;
  journey to El Arish, 42;
  reinforcements, 44;
  at El Burj, 45;
  Sheikh Zowaid, 45;
  march to Rafa, 46–48;
  at Khan Yunis, 48;
  Sheikh Nebhan, 49;
  El Mendur, 52;
  in the Sheikh Abbas Sector, 54, 56;
  field firing, 57;
  at Deir-el-Belah, 57;
  attack on Beersheba, 59–64;
  battle of Sheria, 68;
  at Goz-el-Gelieb, 70;
  presentation of medals, 71;
  march to Mejdal, 74;
  foot parade, 74;
  march to Junction Station, 76;
  at Latron, 77;
  march to Beit Sira, 78;
  at Wadi Selman, 79;
  camp at Q 20 central, 85;
  advance on Jerusalem, 86–91;
  march along the Zeitun Ridge, 92–95;
  at Wadi Zait, 95;
  capture Zeitun Ridge, 98;
  advance on the Hill of Shafa, 99;
  on Beitania, 101–103;
  camp at Yalo, 106;
  making roads, 107, 109;
  march to Kantara, 116;
  voyage to Marseilles, 117–119;
  at St Firmin, 119;
  Grand Rullecourt, 120;
  epidemic of Spanish influenza, 121;
  march to La Pierriere, 122;
  bombarded by the Germans, 125;
  fitted with kilts, 126;
  at Le Foret, 127;
  advance on the Canal du Nord, 128;
  attack on the Germans, 132–135;
  at Corbie, 136;
  tribute to, 136;
  advance to Orcq, 137;
  reception at Tournai, 139;
  at Moustier, 140;
  demobilised, 140–142;
  at Kirkcaldy, 142;
  predecessors, 159–164;
  Commanding Officers, 164

Fife Yeomanry Cavalry, 159

Fifeshire Light Dragoons, 159

Fifeshire Mounted Rifle Volunteers, 161;
  review at Edinburgh, 162

Fifeshire Volunteer Light Horse Corps, the 1st, 162

Foka Hill, 83, 84, 92;
  capture of, 93

Fontes, 122, 137

Football, games of, 121, 138, 140

Forfar, 2

Forfar Yeomanry or Angus Cavalry, 159;
  re-raised, 161;
  disbanded, 162

Forfarshire Light Horse Volunteer Corps, the 1st, 162

Fort Conan, 24

Franvillers, 127

Fraser, Lieut. H.L., 154

Frasnes, 139

Fusilier Ridge, 57, 114


Galbraith, R.Q.M.S. W.J., 158;
  at Kirkcaldy, 142

Gall, R.S.M., 156

Gallipoli, 14–27;
  thunderstorm at, 22

Gamli, 60

Gara, 38;
  sandstorm, 32;
  cloud-burst, 32, 39

Gaza, attacks on, 48, 51;
  capture of, 70

Gebel-el-Ghenneiem, 34

George IV., King, reviews the Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, 160

George V., King, inspects the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 4, 140;
  wire to Lord Lovat, 142

German Army, attack on, 132–136;
  evacuate Tournai, 139;
  trenches, occupied, 124

Gibb, Corporal, 158

Gibraltar, Straits of, 12

Gilmour, Lieut.-Colonel J., 164;
  commanding the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 29, 48, 148;
  D.S.O. conferred, 58, 165;
  wounded at the battle of Sheria, 68;
  bar to his D.S.O., 69;
  commanding the 20th Company Imperial Yeomanry, 163

Gilmour, Lieut.-Col. Sir John, commanding the Forfarshire Light Horse
Volunteer Corps, 162;
  retires, 163

Girdwood, Major-General E.S., commanding the 74th Division, 71;
  presents medals, 71;
  prizes, 141;
  tribute to, 143

Goz-el-Gelieb, 70

Grammont, 140

Grand Rullecourt, 120, 121

Gray, Lieut. W., 36

Grimsby, 6

Gyppy Cavalry, 35;
  garrison Dakhla Oasis, 38


Hair, Sergt.-Major J., 157

Haking, Lieut.-General Sir R., Corps Commander, inspection by, 126

Halkett, Capt., Sir Arthur, 161

Ham en Artois, 122, 126

Hamilton, Sir Ian, inspects the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 4

Haubourdin, 137

Haute Deule Canal, 137

Hell’s Gate, 38

Henderson, Private (“Dinkum”) 150, 155

Henderson, Sergt.-Major, 158

Herd, Sergeant William, 157

Herdman, Lieut. C.W., 148

Herlies, 137

Highland Mounted Brigade, 2;
  strength, 29;
  at Sherika, 32

Highland Territorial Division, the 51st, 2

Hill A, 84, 85;
  capture of, 93

Hill 1070, capture of, 62;
  1750, 79;
  attack on, 80;
  2450, battle on, 98

Hindenburg line, 135

Hoare, Brig.-General R., 31, 130;
  wounded, 134, 144

Hodge, Capt. Chappell, commanding the 20th Company Imperial Yeomanry, 162;
  death, 163

Hogsthorpe, 6

Honours and Awards, 165–67

Humbercourt, 120

Hunter, General Sir A., 163

Huntingdon, 4, 5

Hutchison, Capt. R.G., 148


I.C.C. the, 67;
  at Sherika, 33;
  relieved, 38

Im Seirat, 51

Imbros, peaks of, 18

Imperial Camel Corps, 61

Imperial Yeomanry, the 20th Company, 162

_Indarra_, H.M.T., 117

Inverness Battery, 2

Irgeig, 65

Ismailia, 39, 41

Izieres, 140


Jackson, Capt. G.E., Staff Captain, 2

Jaffa, 72

Jericho, 111

Jerusalem, advance on, 87–91;
  fall of, 89;
  entry into, 104

Jones’ Post, 57

Judæa, 76

Judæan Hills, 73, 75

Junction Station, 73, 76

Juvisy, 119


Kantara, 42, 43, 50, 116

Karm, 61, 70

Kereina Ridge, 92

Kefr Skeyan, 92, 110

Kent Hill, 115

Khamsin wind, 53

Khan Abu Felah, 107, 114

Khan Yunis, 48

Kharga, 33, 34, 35;
  Oasis Detachment, at Sherika, 32

Khirbet Kereina, 84

Kilo, 31, 35

King, Lieut.-Colonel A.J., 2

Kinniburgh, Lieut. J.D., killed at the battle of Sheria, 68

Kinross, 2, 142

Kirkcaldy, 2, 142;
  depot for recruiting, 4

Kitchener, Lord, 22

Kubeibe, 78, 86, 94, 96

Kulonieh, 91

Kuryet-el-Enab, 87

Kuwauka system, attack on, 66

Kuweilfeh, 64, 65


La Bassée Canal, 123, 126

La Houssoye, 127

La Pierriere, 122

Lala Baba, 28

Lamain, 139

Latron, 77

Le Foret, 127

Leitch, Sergeant, J.J., 158

Levant, the, 18

Light Car Patrol, 36, 38

Ligny, 122;
  Wood, 137

Ligny St Flochel, 120

Likia, 78

Lindsay, Lieut. A.S., commanding the Light Car Patrol, 36, 153

Lindsay, Captain M.E., 9, 145, 146

Loch Lomond, 2

Locon, 137

London Regiment, 127, 129;
  Yeomanry Company, 38

Longavesnes, 130, 133

Lovat, Lord, illness, 29;
  wire from King George V., 142

Lovat’s Scouts, 2, 19, 23, 30;
  at Salonika, 35

Lowson, Private David, 157

Ludd, 116

Lumsden, C.S.M. J., 155

Lys, the, 126


Mack, Sergeant Nathaniel, 158

MacNeil, Lieut.-Colonel Angus, commanding the Kharga Oasis Detachment, 32;
  opens the swimming-bath at Sherika, 37

Mafeking, relief of, 163

Mahmeh, attack on, 97

Malta, 12, 118

Mansura Ridge, 52

Maricourt, 127

Marquain, 138

Marseilles, 118, 119

Marshall, Lieut. D., march to Tenida, 37, 148

Marshall, Major-General W.R., 26

M‘Dougal, Lieut. A.R., bombing school, 36;
  the “Gallipoli Spider,” 150

Meherique, 35;
  Roman Fort at, 34

Mejdal, 74

Melsom, Captain, of the _Andania_, 10

Melville, Captain Whyte, 145

Mena Camp, 30

Mericourt, 137

M’Guffog, A., 157

Middlesex Regiment, 67

Minia, 31

Miquellerie, 126

Mitchell, Lieut.-Colonel A., commanding the Fife and Forfar
Yeomanry, 29, 163;
  illness, 29

M’Kenzie, Lieut.-Colonel J.M., 134;
  illness, 140;
  commanding the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 164

M’Laren, Sergt.-Major, 154

M’Lean, Lieut. J., 132, 157

M’Nab, Captain J., holds the Round Hill, 114
  wounded, 130

M’Niven, C.Q.M.S. J., 157

Moislains, attack on, 128

Molinghem, 127

Montgomery and Welsh Horse Yeomanry, the 25th, 130

Morison, Lieut.-Colonel, commanding the Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry
Cavalry, 160

Mosquitoes, war on, 35, 147

Moustier, 140

Mudros Harbour, 13, 28


Nablus, 111;
  attack on, 92, 97

Nairn, Captain I.C., 114;
  killed, 130

Nairn, Major R.S., illness, 29

Nazlet el Abid, 31

Neby Samwil, 89, 91;
  capture of, 86

Nile, the, 31;
  Valley, 34, 91

Nisbet, Sergt.-Major W., at Kirkcaldy, 142

Noc River, 123

Nooitgedacht, 163

Norfolk, 7

Norfolk Regiment, 58, 121

North Devon Hussars, 30;
  at Sherika, 35

North Lane Trench, 23

Noyelles, 119

Nurlu Village, 128


Ogilvie, Major D.D., 112, 114, 133;
  commanding B Squadron, 26;
  acting M.L.O., 27;
  march to Tenida, 37;
  commanding C Squadron, 40;
  and the Battalion 140, 164;
  return to Kirkcaldy, 142

Ogilvie, Sergeant-Major Alec, 154

Orcq, 138

Orilux torches, 80

Ormiston, Capt. J.W., 133;
  adjutant, 150, 164

Osborne, Major G.E.B., adjutant, illness, 29;
  commanding B Squadron, 40;
  killed at the battle of Sheria, 68

Oswald, Captain, 161


Paris, 119

Petit Ronchin, 137

Peyton Avenue Trench, 22, 23, 27

Peyton, Major-General W., 19

Philistia, Plain of, 70, 72

Pimple Post, 135

Pitt, Rt Hon. W., appeal for soldiers, 159

Portobello, review at, 160

Pree, Major C.G. de, 19, 24, 26, 40

_Prince Abbas_, the, 28

Purvis, Capt. R., commanding the 20th Company Imperial Yeomanry, 163;
  wounded, 163


Q 20 Central, camp at, 78, 85, 94

Quennemont Farm, 135

Quennet Copse, 135

Quentin Road, 125


Rafa, 46–48

Railhead, 35;
  Persian Temple, 34

Ram Allah, 92, 109, 116

Raspberry Hill, 51

Rawlinson, General, commanding Fourth Army, tribute to the 74th
Division, 136

Regent’s Park, 57, 58

Renton, Sergeant, 156

Rhone Valley, 119

Ricketts, Lieut. W., Quartermaster, 29, 148

Rifleman Post, 135

Rigg, Lieut. P.J.H., 148

Road-making, 107, 109

Robecq, 122, 124, 125

Robertson, Capt. J.R., death, 149

Roger, Private W., D.C.M. conferred, 20, 156, 165

Ronssoy, 133

Ross, Corporal, 147

Rosslyn, Lieut.-Gen. the Earl of, commanding the Fifeshire Mounted
Rifle Volunteers, 145

Round Hill, 114

Royal Devon Yeomanry, 30;
  at Sherika, 35

Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, 160;
  review, 160;
  disbanded, 161;
  re-established, 161

Royal Highlanders, the 14th Battalion, 41;
  _see_ Fife

Royal Scots, the 4th, 56

Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 121

Rue, 120

Rues des Vaches Farm, 124


St Angelo, Castle of, 12

St Cyr, airships at, 119

St Emilie, 131

St Firmin, 119

St Ives, 4

St James’ Park, 103

St Paul’s Bay, 12

St Pol, 120

St Venant Sector, 122

Salonika, 35

Salt Lake, 17

Samothrace, 18

Samson’s Ridge, 57

Sandstorm at Gara, 32

Sari Bahr, 17

Savage, Private P., 157

Scotian, the, 28

Scots Guards, defeated at football, 121

Scott, Lieut. W., 150

Scottish Horse, 26, 30

Selwad, 112

Senussi, the, 31;
  flight, 37

Shafa, Hill of, 99

Sharp, Capt. H.S., adjutant, 9, 40, 146;
  illness, 29;
  at Wadi Selman, 80;
  tribute to, 105

Shechem, 111

Sheikh Abbas Sector, 54

Sheikh Abdullah, 111

Sheikh Nebhan, 49, 52

Sheikh Zowaid, 45

Shellal, 61

Sheria, 65;
  attack on, 66–68;
  casualties, 68

Sherika, 32;
  swimming-bath, 36

Sidi Bishr, 28, 30

Sikh Mountain Gunners, at Sherika, 33

Simpson, Lieut. J., 162

Sinai Railway, 42

Skegness, 6

Smith, Capt. A.C., 19;
  M.C. conferred, 19;
  adjutant, 164

Smith-Dorrien, Gen. Sir H., inspects the Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, 8

_Snaefels_, the, 27

Sohag, 31

Somersets, the, attack on Abu-el-Zeitun, 97;
  advance on Beitania, 101;
  at Yalo, 107;
  attack on Allaines, 128;
  on the Germans, 132;
  advance on Marquain, 138

Somme, the, 120, 127

South Lane Trench, 22, 23

South-Western Mounted Brigade, 30

Spanish influenza, epidemic of, 121

Spence-Jones, Lieut.-Colonel C.J.H., 134

Spreull, Capt. (later Lieut.-Col.) A., 148

Squadron System, introduction, 162

Stewart, Capt. R.W., 40, 146;
  killed, 130

Stirling, Lieut.-Col. A., 29

Stirlingshire, 2

Stirlingshire Yeomanry Cavalry, 160

Storrar, Private Morrison, 158

Submarine, sunk, 118

Suez Canal, 39

Suffa, 116

Suffolk Regiment, the 15th Battalion, 125

Sulajik, 17

Suvla, 16, 27

Sweetwater Canal, 39, 50

Swimming-bath, at Sherika, 36

Syderstone Common, 146


Tahta Ridge, 85

Tattenham Corner, 109, 116

Tel Asur, 111, 116;
  capture of, 112

Tel-el-Ful, 88, 89

Tel-el-Jemmi, 50

Tel-el-Saba, 63

Tel-el-Sheria, 67

Templeux la Fosse, 134

Templeux le Guerard, 133

Tenida, 38

Thackeray, Brig.-General F.S., 134

Thompson, Lieut. E.A., killed at the battle of Sheria, 68

Thomson, Captain Anstruther, 161

Thomson, Col. J. Anstruther, commanding the Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry
Cavalry, 160

Thunderstorm at Gallipoli, 22

Timsah, Lake, 39

Todd, L./Corpl. J., 157

Toine Post, 135

Tortille River, 128

Tournai, evacuated by the Germans, 139

Trench fever, 25

Trenches, digging, 16, 22, 52

Tuck, Capt. A.J.M., 139

Tuke, Capt. A., 21, 40, 147;
  illness, 26, 29;
  war on mosquitoes, 35, 147;
  awarded a Military Cross, 148, 165

Turbeauté River, 125

Turkish Army, snipers, 19;
  attack on El Buggar, 60;
  retreat, 70, 72;
  counter-attacks, 77, 84;
  flight from Shafa, 100

Two Tree Farm, 55, 56


Um Gerrar, 49

Ushant, Cape, 11


Vaal, the, 147

Valentine, Lance-Sergeant J., D.C.M. conferred, 20, 165

Valetta Harbour, 12

Versailles, 119

Victoria, Queen, review in Edinburgh, 162

Villers-Bretonneux, 136

Villers Faucon, 131


Wadi Ain Arik, 92, 109

Wadi Ghuzzeh, 49, 50, 58, 60, 71, 72

Wadi Hannina, 89, 90

Wadi Imaish, 84, 92, 106

Wadi Kelt, 101

Wadi Kolah, 113

Wadi Melab, 106

Wadi Reuben, 53

Wadi Saba, 61, 62, 63

Wadi Sad, 109

Wadi Selke, 59

Wadi Selman, 79, 92, 94

Wadi Shebab, 79, 80

Wadi Sukharieh, 73, 75

Wadi Sunt, 105

Wadi Zait, 79, 83, 85, 92, 93, 95

Water Dump A, 35, 37, 38

Wemyss, Colonel W., commanding the Royal Fifeshire Yeomanry Cavalry, 160

Wemyss, W., of Cuttlehill, 144;
  commanding the Battalion, 69, 164;
  tribute to, 105;
  at Cairo, 109

West Somerset Yeomanry, 30;
  at Sherika, 35

White Hill, 115

Willow Tree Well, 24

Wood, Capt. A.R. Dick, 125, 154


Yalo, camp at, 106

Yeomanry Regiment, the first, 159

Young, Private Hastie, 156

Younger, Lieut.-Colonel J., vii., 117;
  commanding B Squadron, 24;
  illness, 26, 29;
  second in command, 40;

Wemyss, W., of Cuttlehill, 144;
  commanding the Battalion, 69, 164;
  tribute to, 105;
  at Cairo, 109


Zeitun Ridge, 84, 92;
  capture of, 98


PRINTED BY OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND




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    | Typographical errors corrected in text:                      |
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    | Page 133: Longavenes replaced with Longavesnes               |
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    | Page 179: A PG reader kindly pointed out that his grandfather|
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    |           at the Battle of Sheria.                           |
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