With a Highland Regiment in Mesopotamia | Page 3

of what the Colonel has done to make his Battalion one of the most efficient in Mesopotamia. I was very interested in listening to a story told me by a brother officer who was standing alone in a traverse of a trench. Two Staff Officers were talking in the next traverse and he heard one remark: "Of course, out here at the present the Regiment is Wauchope, and Wauchope is the Regiment." It is a name most closely connected with the fortunes of the ---- Regiment.
[Illustration: At The Base. Scene on a creek below Basrah.]
[Illustration: Colonel A. G. WAUCHOPE, C.M.G., D.S.O., Commanding The 2nd Battalion ----.]
The journey was a pleasant one; the wonderful change from the damp depressing dug-out to a comfortable cabin was appreciated by the officers, and a dry and comfortable place to sleep in, instead of trying to sleep in the mud of a fire trench was welcomed by the men.
The usual stay at Port Said after successfully evading the submarines, where the wily Arab fleeces the unsuspecting Tommy, was not without interest. The Padre tells an interesting story about how, when he was returning from home leave to the Regiment in India in 1913, he had his fortune told by one of the many fantastic liars that fatten on the stories they weave in this Eastern cesspool. The Fortune-teller told him that within a year he would be returning to Europe by the same canal. In those piping days of peace he never suspected that it would be with the regiment on Active Service but when almost to the day and within the year, he passed through Port Said on his way to France, this one saying at least of the Fortune-teller was forcibly brought home to his mind.
Egypt in December is delightful, and more than one expressed the wish that for a time at all events they could be stationed in this most wonderful country. The Canal displayed enormous activity, there had been no such activity since the days when it was made. Thousands of Arabs and others toiled and died in making this great work. To-day the Canal is guarded by thousands of troops. Enormous camps have been established at different places, and Posts are in existence all along the waterway. It being so narrow, 3-worded conversations take place between the troops on the banks and the men on the Trooper. 'Who are you?' asked the men on the bank. When the reply is returned, shouts of 'Good Old Scotland' are raised ashore. Some asked, 'Where are you going!' 'Mesop' they say. 'Poor Devils', is the encouraging reply. Then some lonely soul asks if any of his Regiment are on board, and so it goes on all day. Some swim out from the shore and shout and talk, but one is chiefly impressed by the great number of men guarding this important waterway.
[Illustration: Scenes On The Creeks Below Basrah.]
[Illustration: G. J. ANDERSON. H. W. BRUCE, CAPT. A. M. GRIEVE, S. F. G. ALEXANDER, D. H. ANDERSON.]
[Illustration: C. J. McCONAGHY.]
[Illustration: C. J. McCONAGHY, Capt. A. M. GRIEVE, S. F. G. ALEXANDER, H. W. BRUCE.]
At Suez a short stay is made. The water is a wonderful opal colour; the great Desert on our left, the barren rocks, sunburnt and bare on our right, help to make a fascinating picture. One remembers the first time one had passed through the Canal, years before in time of peace, and how one had been filled with admiration for the Medical Officer who came out to the Mail Boat to give it a clean bill of health to pass through the Canal, because she was a woman, and standing month after month of Suez summer weather, which proves too much for many men, leave alone women. But the stay is short and so as the Sun sets, making wonderful colouring over the Desert and sea, the journey down the Red Sea is commenced. The Red Sea in December is shorn of its terrors and can be quite enjoyable. Aden is passed, two or three days steaming along the inhospitable coast of Southern Arabia and the entrance of the Persian Gulf is reached. The Straits of Ormuz have the reputation of being one of the hottest places on earth. The rocky, and wild Arabian coast looks very beautiful in the sunshine with its innumerable islands, and the sea is a dead calm. For some hours the shores on our left are visible, then we steam, up along the Persian shore and get a good view of the barren, rocky mountain range running parallel with the coast. Those who have good glasses make out villages on the shore. The Captain is pestered with questions about the date and time of arrival at Basrah. Excitement is being felt again; one wonders what the