Letters from Mesopotamia | Page 2

they
are likely to take me or Luly, because in every case they are taking the
senior subaltern: and that is a position which I am skipping by being
promoted along with the three others: and Luly is a long way down the
list. But of course I shall volunteer, as there is no adequate reason not
to; so I thought you would like to know, only you mustn't worry, as the
chance of my going is exceedingly remote: but I like to tell you
everything that happens.
* * * * *
Four months after he wrote this, in August, 1915, Robert was on leave
at Naini Tal, with Purefoy Causton, a brother officer.
* * * * *
MÉTROPOLE HOTEL, NAINI TAL.
August 3rd, 1915.
TO HIS MOTHER.
It has been extremely wet since I last wrote. On Saturday we could do
nothing except laze indoors and play billiards and Friday was the same,
with a dull dinner-party at the end of it. It was very nice and cool
though, and I enjoyed those two days as much as any.
On Sunday we left Government House in order to be with Guy Coles
during his three days' leave.
It rained all the morning: we went to Church at a spikey little chapel
just outside Government House gate. It cleared about noon and we
walked down to the Brewery, about three miles to meet Guy. When he
arrived we had lunch there and then got ponies.

We had arranged to take Guy straight to a picnic with a nice Mrs.
Willmott of Agra, who comes here for the hot weather. So we rode up
past the lake and to the very top of Agarpatta, one of the humps on the
rim of hills. It took us over two hours, and the mist settled in just as we
arrived, about 5, so we picnicked chillily on a misty mountain-top; but
Mrs. Willmott and her sister are exceptionally nice people, so we all
enjoyed it. They have two small children and a lady nurse for them. I
never met one before, but it is quite a sensible plan out here.
We only got back to this Hotel just before dinner, and there I found a
wire from Major Wyatt asking me if I would command a draft and take
it to the 4th Hants in the Persian Gulf. This is the exact fulfilment of the
calculation I wrote to you in April, but it came as a surprise at the
moment. I was more excited than either pleased or depressed. I don't
hanker after fighting, and I would, of course, have preferred to go with
the regiment and not as a draft. But now that I'm in for it, the interest of
doing something after all these months of hanging about, and in
particular the responsibility of looking after the draft on the way, seems
likely to absorb all other feelings. What appeals to me most is the
purely unmilitary prospect of being able to protect the men, to some
extent, from the, I'm sure, largely preventible sickness there has been in
the P.G. The only remark that ever made me feel a sudden desire to go
to any front was when O'Connor at Lahore told me (quite untruly as it
turned out) that "the Hampshires are dying like flies at Basra." As a
matter of fact, they only had ten deaths, but a great deal of sickness,
and I do enjoy the prospect of trying to be efficient about that. As for
fighting, it doesn't look as if there would be much, whereon Purefoy
greatly commiserates me; but if that is the only privation I shan't
complain!
I'm afraid your lively imagination will conjure up every kind of horror,
and that is the only thing that distresses me about going: but clearly a
tropical climate suits me better than most people, and I will be very
careful to avoid all unnecessary risks! both for your peace of mind and
also to keep the men up to the mark, to say nothing of less exalted
motives.

I know no details at all yet. I am to return to Agra on Saturday, so I
shall only lose forty-eight hours of my most heavenly fortnight here.
I got this wire Sunday evening and Purefoy sat up talking on my bed
till quite late as we had a lot to say to each other.
August 4th. On Monday morning it was pouring harder than ever, quite
an inch to the hour. I walked across to the Telegraph Office and
answered the Major's wire, and got wet through. After breakfast I
chartered a dandy and waded through the deluge to the station hospital,
where the M.O. passed me as sound, without a spark of interest in any