Enemy on the Euphrates (44 page)

Let us try to picture the small British force on Friday 23 July 1920 as it begins its advance into enemy territory under the baking Mesopotamian sun. A few months earlier the newly planted rice fields and small plots of winter wheat ready for harvesting would have been bright green and dotted with spring flowers, but now all has turned to drab dusty yellow. There is nothing to raise the men’s spirits as they set off towards their equally cheerless destination.

‘B’ Company of the Manchesters, under the command of Captain G.M. Glover, are at the head of the column followed by ‘A’ Company.
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But after only a couple of miles these pale young men from Lancashire in their solar topees and baggy shorts are already in a sorry condition, sodden with a fine perspiration, like a downy mist, which seems to leak out of every pore, and desperately thirsty; but the British Army believes that troops should refrain from drinking water in the heat of the day while marching, so ‘water discipline’ is being rigidly enforced.
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Behind them march a company of sepoys – strong, lean men of the 1st Battalion the 32nd Sikh Pioneers, ready in an instant to drop their rifles and seize their entrenching tools; normally a six-mile march would be nothing to them but with the shade temperature touching 120°f, even these tough, experienced soldiers are beginning to suffer. The six horse-drawn 18-pounder guns of the 39th Royal Field Artillery battery are in the centre of the column together with 150 ‘Animal Transport’ (AT) carts each pulled by two mules, carrying ammunition and the impedimenta required for constructing a camp. As their Indian drivers whip them forward, the animals churn up the fine dust of the alluvial soil, choking
the men of ‘D’ Company of the Manchesters who are marching behind them. And in the rear, and on either flank, are two squadrons of the 35th Scinde Horse, the pennants of their lances fluttering in the scorching breeze of the shamal as they scan the horizon for enemy tribesmen; but, as often as not, in the shimmering heat, what first appears to be a horseman is just a mirage – or nothing more than a six-foot high clump of wild liquorice or a strangely twisted grey-leaved native poplar tree.

Forty-four-year-old Colonel R.N. Hardcastle, in command of the column, marches with the infantry, alternately on horseback or on foot, resting his mount. The son of a ‘gentleman of independent means’ of Wakefield, Yorkshire, Colonel Hardcastle joined the army with the rank of second lieutenant in December 1897.
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By now he is a very experienced soldier. He fought in the Boer War of 1899–1901, serving with the Manchester Regiment’s 1st Battalion, and was awarded the DSO for bravery in September 1901. In 1914 his unit formed part of the British Expeditionary Force in France and between 18 and 20 October it saw very heavy fighting at Richebourg-l’Avoué, where Hardcastle, by now a captain, had to assume temporary command of the battalion after its lieutenant colonel was sent to hospital. In April 1915 he was promoted to major and the following year his unit was sent to Iraq, where it took part in the futile campaign to relieve General Townshend’s men besieged at Kut al-‘Amara and during which Major Hardcastle was wounded. By July 1918 Hardcastle, now with the rank of brevet lieutenant colonel, was commanding the 1st Battalion of the Manchesters in General Allenby’s successful campaign against the Turks in Palestine. It was with the same rank that Hardcastle was placed in command of the Manchester Regiment’s 2nd Battalion in November 1919.

Many of the column’s other officers are equally experienced and decorated. But brave and experienced as they may be, these officers are no less affected by the intense heat than their men and on arrival at Imam Bakr in the early evening all ranks are exhausted and some have already collapsed from dehydration and heatstroke.

At this point events begin to take an unfortunate turn. In spite of the enforcement of ‘water discipline’, the column has insufficient water
supplies for an operation in such extremes of temperature.
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Colonel Hardcastle has been assured that there will be plentiful water supplies at Imam Bakr but when his cavalry patrols reach the nearby wells it is discovered that the water is so brackish that even the animals refuse to drink.
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However, the column is within a short distance of the Mashtadiyya canal so the men and animals trudge onwards to that location. But once again they are disappointed – the Hilla branch of the Euphrates, from which the matrix of irrigation channels is fed, is very low this year and there is no water entering the Mashtadiyya canal. So the weary and despondent British and Indian troops march back to Imam Bakr.

However, a junior PO accompanying the column who is familiar with this area, Lieutenant P.H.S. Tozer, is sent out scouting for alternative sources of water and soon returns informing Hardcastle that there are adequate supplies in another canal, the Nahr Shah, further to the south-east; there is also a good defensive position at which to make camp eight miles south of Imam Bakr, where the railway and Hilla–Kifl road cross another canal with water, the Rustumiyya. So Hardcastle now sends a message back to Hilla informing Colonel Lukin that he intends to continue his advance to the Rustumiyya, asking his senior officer to approve the movement.
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On receiving this request, at 00.15 on 24 July, Colonel Lukin sends a telegram to Major General Leslie at Divisional HQ Diwaniyya informing him of the column’s plight and of his intention to allow the column to advance further southwards towards Kifl, principally to obtain water but also to continue to ‘show the flag’ in this unsettled area. Leslie is informed by Lukin that he has authorised the column to set off from Imam Bakr ‘in the morning’.
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At this point Leslie is still hours away from his HQ, being flown back from his conference with Haldane in Baghdad. When he does eventually receive Lukin’s message at 10.40 a.m. on Saturday the 24th, he is puzzled by the expression ‘in the morning’ – does Lukin mean he is intending to order the advance to begin this morning (in which case he would have already departed) or the following morning – on the 25th?
He therefore telegraphs back to Hilla asking for clarification, at the same time informing Lukin that substantial reinforcements will soon be on their way to him from the units which are expected to return to Hilla from the relief of Rumaytha.

Meanwhile, it has been confirmed that the Nahr Shah canal does indeed contain adequate water supplies and Hardcastle has sent part of the column there with the animals without further authorisation. The operation is successful but because of difficulties leading the horses and mules down the steep banks of the canal, they can only be watered in small batches.

Consequently the party does not return to the camp at Imam Bakr until 8.15 a.m. An hour later, Hardcastle has still not received a reply from Hilla to his telegram of 00.15 as to a further advance to the Rustumiyya canal, so because the temperature is already above 100°f, he decides to give the order to advance without waiting any longer. However, it is not until 4.00 that afternoon that Leslie receives a telegram from Lukin at Hilla informing him that the column has already set off ‘that morning, early’. The stage is now set for a tragic denouement.

By midday on Saturday 24 July, Colonel Hardcastle and his men eventually reached the Rustumiyya canal, by which time 60 per cent of the Manchester Regiment troops were so exhausted and affected by the heat as to require, in the opinion of the column’s medical officer, a complete rest for twenty-four hours. However, the column was now close to Kifl, whose single white minaret could clearly be seen from the canal bank, and, faced with the possibility of an attack by marauding bands of insurgents, Hardcastle decided that a protected camp would have to be constructed. So after only a few hours’ rest the men were set to work preparing a defensible position while two troops of the Scinde Horse were posted as standing patrols on the road and light railway line leading to Kifl.

The spot chosen for the camp was a naturally strong one. It was sited to the east of the road from Hilla to Kifl in the angle between the road and the canal. On three sides there were earthen banks a few feet
above the level ground which served on the southern side to retain the ten-foot-wide canal while on the east was an irrigation cut of lesser width. The protection of the third side, which bordered the road, consisted of a dry ditch with a low bank on both sides of it. Beyond this side to the west and making an acute angle with the road, outside the perimeter selected for the camp, ran a line of mounds, possibly the remains of an ancient canal bank of which all other traces had disappeared. Since the highest of these was around ten feet above level ground, and the highest point in the vicinity, these positions were also occupied.

Only on the fourth side facing north-west were there no naturally defensible features and so at 5.30 p.m. those men who were still fit enough were ordered to commence digging trenches along this line. However, a few minutes later an orderly from the cavalry troop stationed on the railway line galloped into the camp with news that a large party of Arabs were tearing up the rails and destroying the culverts. This was followed by the arrival of a wounded cavalryman and then, shortly afterwards, by the remainder of the cavalry with worrying news: at least 10,000 insurgents were said to be advancing on the camp and were only about two miles away. Although this estimate of enemy combatants was later revised down to about 3,000, the British and Indian troops were clearly heavily outnumbered.

A short time later both sides opened fire, although there was some delay in getting the British artillery into action because the British gunners, who were also the column’s telephonists, were currently trying to get in touch with Hilla by attaching their instruments to the telegraph line.
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By 7.50 p.m. the fighting became more intense and the Arabs were seen to be working round the flanks of the encampment, some of them closing to only 150 yards from the camp perimeter. Colonel Hardcastle was aware that he had been ordered to avoid an engagement with superior forces but he was now in a quandary: his orders indicated that the column should probably withdraw to a position of greater safety, nearer to Hilla; but with nightfall approaching he also knew that conducting such a movement in good order would be extremely hazardous. What he did not know, however, was that within the next twenty-four hours
reinforcements from the Rumaytha relief force would be available at Hilla ready to be sent on the short distance to support Hardcastle’s men. If the Manchester Column had dug in and taken advantage of their superior firepower they would probably have been able to hold their position until those reinforcements arrived.

In the event, Colonel Hardcastle’s judgement seems to have failed him. Instead of taking a firm decision as commanding officer, he called all the officers to a council, including the two POs accompanying the column, Lieutenant Tozer and his superior, APO Captain W.E. Hunt. These two urged an immediate withdrawal, claiming that, seeing such a force of British troops pinned down in this manner, all the local Arabs would rise up and even Hilla itself might be overwhelmed and captured. The outcome of the conference was that a decision was taken to abandon the camp and retire northwards towards Imam Bakr and Hilla. ‘B’ Company of the Manchester Regiment was to act as the advance guard split into two files either side of the AT wagons and artillery. They would be followed by ‘A’ and ‘D’ companies; the Sikh Pioneers and the two squadrons of the Scinde Horse would make up the rearguard.

At 8.40 p.m., in a darkness unrelieved by any moonlight, the Manchester Column begins to move off in the direction of Hilla along what is little more than a dirt track. For the first half mile of progress the column holds together well. Morale has now improved somewhat. British and Indian soldiers have enjoyed at least a few hours of rest and they are relieved to be returning to the modest comforts of Hilla after the privations of the march. And for the time being they are able to fend off sporadic attacks by mounted insurgents who are reluctant to come into close combat with their better-armed opponents.

Then, suddenly, there is a commotion among the AT wagons. Something has panicked the mules and horses, which begin to charge off in different directions. In the pitch darkness, the men of ‘A’ and ‘B’ companies of the Manchesters have no idea what is happening until careering transport wagons carve through their ranks. In the chaos, the inexperienced young infantrymen who cannot get out of the way
are trampled, injured and killed while the rest are split up into isolated groups of men left stranded and in many cases separated from their officers and NCOs.

From now on any sense of there being an organised military formation has disintegrated. Loose horses, led by a white pony, continue to career up and down the road on which some of the Manchesters are endeavouring to make an orderly retreat.
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The combat degenerates into a scattering of individual fights between little groups of British and Indian troops and a swirling mass of Arab horsemen and foot soldiers. As they retreat, the gunners halt for a few minutes, firing their guns into the Arabs at almost point-blank range, and with drawn swords the sowars of the Scinde Horse make repeated charges into the enemy tribesmen to prevent them surrounding and capturing the guns and gunners. In the course of these charges, all six of the cavalry’s British officers have their horses shot from under them; two of their officers are badly wounded and the senior Indian officer, Risaldar Muhammad Azim, who has shown the greatest coolness and bravery throughout the fighting, is shot in the stomach and dies shortly afterwards. And as the struggle to extricate the guns dies down, two-thirds of the cavalry are now fighting on foot.

In another of these close-quarter combats the twenty-six-year-old Captain George Henderson, commanding ‘D’ Company of the Manchesters, orders his men to fix bayonets and leads a charge into the nearest mass of insurgents.
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For a while this body of rebels pulls back but within minutes they have recovered and threaten to surround Henderson’s men. Once again he leads a charge at bayonet point towards the Arabs but this time he is badly wounded. Nevertheless, after this show of resistance, the insurgents pull back, turning their attention to the substantial amount of equipment, rifles and ammunition in the AT wagons which the Manchester Column has had to abandon. At this point Henderson manages to extricate his men and escape up the road to Hilla. After a few hundred yards the men of ‘D’ Company halt at a defensible position. It is only now that the severity of Henderson’s wound becomes apparent. He asks a sergeant to lay him down on the canal embankment where they are sheltering. His last words, spoken
to one of his NCOs are, ‘I’m done now, don’t let them beat you.’
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Henderson was later awarded the Victoria Cross ‘for most conspicuous bravery and self-sacrifice’.