Stalky's Forlorn Hope page 3 (chapters 6 thru 10)

During the morning of 28th March, we pushed slowly up stream, passing through most uninteresting country as there is nothing on the banks of the river to break the monotony of the great stretches of dull desert landscape. However, as the day wore on we passed here and there small clumps of palms, until we reached the fringe of those trees lining the banks leading to Baghdad. Afar off, one could see the domes and minarets of the city, rising above the forest of date palms. About four miles south of Baghdad we pulled into the bank and were there met by the first party, who had already arrived at the place and erected tents. 

Naturally, our first excursion was to Baghdad, the city of Sinbad the Sailor and his exploits. The roads leading to this ancient palm-encircled capital are dusty and tiring to the sightseer, but where the motor car runs, so does the soldier's luck, and ours was well in within five hundred yards of the camp, being in the shape of a lurching, bumping motor lorry which conveyed us without mishap to the city. 

One is struck by the cosmopolitan population of the city: Arabs, Jews, Armenians, Chaldeans, and Persians throng the bazaars. Though the Arab predominates in numbers, the Jew, as elsewhere, is master of the wealth. One enters into New Street, a fine wide street running through the city, constructed by the Turks ostensibly in commemoration of the fall of Kut, but really as a means of easy transport. Houses and shops were not spared by the Turkish Commander who drove the thoroughfare from one end of the city to the other. The rage of the inhabitants was intense, but its utility was very soon appreciated and the popular resentment abated. 

Like Bazra, the bazaars are covered in, but in this city there is a far greater supply of goods,  necessitating bigger places of business. The quaintness of Baghdad is that if one wants brass it is sought in the brass bazaar, if boots or cotton goods, then to the section of the bazaar in which these goods are sold. A place for everything and everything in its place seems to be the idea carried out. Everywhere is noise. The fair price is never asked; it is always about 100 per cent. higher than expected, and the satisfaction to both buyer and seller in their heated bargaining transactions is very evident. 

The dresses of the women are much more gaudy than those seen elsewhere in Mesopotamia. One of the sights of the country is to walk along New Street about an hour before sunset and see the hundreds of Jewesses taking the air. Here one sees dresses, or, to be more correct, loose gowns made of silk, vying with the rainbow for richness of colour. The great ambition of the Jewess is to possess a black lace veil, some of which are wonderfully fine in texture, to cover the face. At first they took great care to hide their faces from the eye of man, but in October of the same year this custom was beginning to die out. The signs of the times were that the women were beginning to realise that the face of woman was good for the eye of man. 

On the river front is a very pretty garden, and here on Sunday afternoons the Indian Regimental band rendered selections, drawing crowds of admirers of music, to say nothing of the Jewesses themselves. These beautiful gardens of Baghdad, the rich colours of the women's dresses, the light tussore suits of the men, tipped with a red fez, are sights to be remembered. The river is the main waterway or highway of traffic, and here are seen boats of every make and shape - the huge hospital paddle-steamers, paddle-transports, motor launches, dhows, canoes and rowing boats, but strangest of all is a round structure, made of goats' skin stretched over a bamboo foundation, capable of holding ten or twelve people. How this is propelled by paddle and directed, without any steering gear, across such a wide and swift river as the Tigris, gives plenty of food for thought. 

There are many places of interest in the city, such as the old Turkish barracks covering acres of ground, the blue-domed mosques and the high minarets of the various buildings of the city. There seems to have been no plan adopted in the laying out of the streets. It seems rather as if the first builders ran up their houses alongside the particular track that they took across the desert. The houses themselves are built much like those we see in the pictures of the time of Queen Elizabeth. All are two-storied [sic], with the upper storey jutting out four or five feet further than the lower one, and it would be an easy matter in many places to shake hands with the person in the building across the road. Sanitation is unknown, and to see the city proper one has to endure the vilest smells imaginable and be chased by myriads of flies. 

One thing must not be overlooked, and that is the so-called Dancing Theatre. One enters the big hall and procures a seat well forward, in front of the raised stage, in the place where the orchestra in a modern theatre would be seated. After making oneself as comfortable as possible, having lit a cigarette to counteract the other perfumes of the hall, one sits and waits for the opening show. The babble and gestures of the audience provide plenty of entertainment to while away the waiting minutes. Then the musicians enter, and the weirdest of noises and wails is created by drums of all makes, strange string instruments and cracked voices. 

Then enter the dancing girls, each taking a seat on the platform which is so arranged as to form a semicircle. The first performer is a child of ten years of age, who wriggled her body into all sorts of contortions, keeping time by beating first one foot, then the other, on the heavy boarded platform, the ankles being encircled with brass bangles, a most terrific din is created. The place is stifling and the perspiration streams in small rivulets down the face and arms of the dancer. The clothes are thick and corsets are not worn. The first dancer was followed by the others in order of age, the first dancer being about ten and the last being about sixty years of age. 

Life in camp was more than strenuous. Our time was filled in by sword exercises, machine-gun courses, pack-animal work, riding classes, and the continuance of Russian and Persian, the latter being added to our list of studies as it appeared that a certain number of us would have to remain behind in Persia, while the main party went on to the Caucasus. 

0n 17th April, orders were issued to a certain number of us to push on with the first party under Colonel Keyworth, D.S.O., of the Salonica Forces. We were organised into sections, and the one in which I found myself was in charge of Captain Kay, M.C., of the Imperial Army. The other officers of that group were Captain Hooper, M.C., Captain Scott-Olsen, M.C., of the Australian Forces, Captain Fisher, M.C., of the Canadian Forces, and Captain Carpenter, who hailed from China.

About 9 p.m. next day, we entrained at Baghdad. and at about 2 a.m. next morning, were transferred to open goods wagons. As it rained continuously during the whole of that night, we had rather a miserable trip to Ruz, which was at that time the advanced rail head. We left the train at about 8 a.m., and ran up our tents on the open plain at the foot of the foothills of Persia. We scouted out for firewood in order to cook a little food. As there were no trees in the vicinity, a great deal of strategy was required by a couple of officers who paid a visit to the A.S.C. stores. They engaged the officer in charge in such vivid conversation as enabled a couple of men to get round the back and collar several 
packing cases. It was by these means that we kept up a sufficient supply of fuel to produce a drink of warm tea three times a day. The rain continued without ceasing for three or four days which put a stop to all our training, but developed our engineering skill to such an extent that any canal or drainage system would not be too big for any of us to take on, and the drains dug around our tents were really works of art. 

On April 22nd, orders were issued to the effect that we were to push on to the Persian border by Ford cars, and next day we started off over that rocky stretch of country leading to Kasr-i-sherin, the Persian city just over the border. This place is built near the ruins of a city of ancient days.  Considering their age the ruins of this place are in excellent state of preservation, the two outstanding features being the castles, one of which covers about two acres of ground. Though the top portion is a heap of ruins, the stables which are built below are almost as good as the day they were erected. This speaks volumes for the durability of the stone which abounds throughout Persia.

The other castle is much smaller, but most of its walls and arches remain intact, and one wonders what excavation amongst these masses of ruins would reveal. Some day the antiquarian will come with his pick and shovel and find relics of that ancient civilisation which swayed the East, having its origin and home in the old kingdom of Persia. 

The surrounding country is of a rolling nature, rising to very steep mountains in the distance. Through the gorges run two swift rivers, one to the south-east, the other to the south-west. and just beyond the old city they are separated by only a few hundred yards. The fertile brains of these ancients devised a scheme for creating a huge lake just outside the city walls. For miles the remains of a tremendously strong and high wall encircles the lower foothills into which were gathered the waters of the rivers, with the hill tops forming little islands here and there. In imagination one can see this beautiful, island-studded, inland sea crowded with the boats of the nobility and the wide walls  thronged with gay pedestrians. All this has passed, conquests have shattered the walls, freed the waters and destroyed the city. All that remains are the heaps of masonry. 

We camped here for six days, passing the time by playing football and organising shooting expeditions amongst the hills and along the two rivers. One never-to-be-forgotten day was April 25th, which was ushered into being by bright sunshine. A little after noon heavy black clouds swept over the mountain tops and rolled down into the valleys, and we had a downpour of the greatest violence. The hailstones 
were as big as marbles and the wind blew in hurricane force. Tents were blown down and the few that remained standing were flooded out, despite the fact that the usual tent trenches had been well excavated. For two or three days each of us had a very busy time in drying, cleaning, and repairing the damage of that hour's storm. 

On the 29th we received orders to push off into the Unknown. Letters were written and many, before going to sleep that night, thought of the dangers of the last few years and wondered what the future had in store. Next morning we were roused out at dawn, and after a hurried breakfast, tents were pulled down and all the gear packed. By the time this was done, the muleteers had all their mules lined up in the open and, after endless upsetting of loads and the chasing of stray beasts, these two hundred and fifty animals were eventually loaded up, and were ready for the track. About eight of us were detailed to form the advance guard, with instructions to push on to a town about twenty-two miles up amongst the hills, keeping in touch with the main body the whole time. That tramp amongst those rocky slopes knocked the best man out, and it was a very tired party that crawled under canvas that night. 

Next morning we were out again at 4 a.m. and, after about an hour's hard work in sorting the animals into groups and loading up, we set off to Seripul, a town at the foot of the pass some eighteen miles distant. The road wound over the hills and through the long valleys, with the mountains in places rising like veritable walls. While trudging along through these passes the heat was unbearable, since not a breath of air relieved the close atmosphere. One had an opportunity of studying the Persian in his native land, and for filth, laziness and lying, they have no equal in the world. The dress of the middle class along those mountain tracks is generally composed of a thick felt shawl, a sort of coat with two holes let in for the arms, and numerous others for ventilation. 

They wear loose trousers and canvas shoes with the soles composed of cord or straight pieces of cloth tightly bound together. Amongst the poorer class a well-dressed person is he who has over his body an ordinary sack with openings for the arms and head. The women in these districts are dressed much the same as the men, with the exception that they generally have in addition some yards of black cloth which is robed about their bodies. From all appearances the clothes are never removed, and as needles and cotton are unknown, the rents are generally tied up with a piece of string, and after years of wear are knotted to such an extent that it would be impossible for any of them to disrobe without the aid of a pair of scissors. 

The road we traversed that day was much better than the track of the previous one as it ran for a long distance through a well-grassed and watered valley. Our luck was in finding a very clear stream near the camp, and, after pitching our tents, we all made off  for a swim. 

Next morning we had to face one of the greatest passes of Persia, the Pia-tak Pass, the gateway of south-western Persia. This day was extremely trying as the heat seemed to concentrate in the deep valley along which we marched, and one could not wish for a worse stretch of country. The mountain ahead was a veritable wall, and up it side we zig-zagged until we eventually reached the top. On the left, cliffs towered up to the very heavens and, on the right, deep gorges yawned. We pitched camp on the plateau and, after resting for an hour or two, were refreshed sufficiently to gaze at the wondrous beauties of unconquered nature. For miles the ranges extended, broker with tumbled and  jagged peaks and perpendicular cliffs. The wind and rain of centuries had twisted and carved them into wonderful shapes, and to stand on that plateau and gaze for miles across the country was a most wonderful and inspiring sight.

Next day, as usual, we were up at dawn and, without much waste of time, for we were becoming more practised in the use of our transport animals. we were soon ready for the road. After getting over the great barrier, the road extended along through a more or less open valley, and it was here for the first time that we saw the wild flowers of Persia in all their beauty. Along the valley and up the slopes they grew in great profusion of colour and variety. One could, without any difficulty gather twenty varieties of the most beautiful flowers in any patch of twenty square yards. 

The music and jangle of the bells tied round the mules' necks was something never to be forgotten. We had, as stated, about two hundred and fifty of these sure-footed beasts loaded to the eyebrows. Each muleteer had his own group of about twenty beasts, which was generally led by one of the oldest mules, or a Persian pony, and to this one's neck was attached a bell of a different tone. At each halt the whole of this mob would wander off the road and graze on the lower slopes of the mountains, and during the ten minutes rest would become a hopeless mass of bumping, laden beasts. At first we reckoned that we had a very small chance of finding the particular animal which carried our kit on arrival at the camp. This, however, did not disturb the muleteers, each of whom hung on to his  leader, and when word was given to move off once more, they would simply lead the way on to the road and move on, the others finding their place by following the sound of the bell. The way in which these animals are trained to fall into place by sound is indeed creditable to the Persian muleteer. 

At intervals we would pass through what was considered to be dangerous country, and some of the party would be ordered to scale the heights overlooking the various passes in order to prevent the tribesmen from ambushing the party as it wended its way through the narrow gorge. At this time we had reliable information to the effect that certain tribesmen were extremely hostile. It would be an easy matter for them, if they held these heights as we passed through, to shoot the leading mules and those at the end of the column, producing such confusion that it would be impossible for the few troops to take up any sort of opposition. The party would be soon wiped out, and it can be readily seen that it was of the utmost importance that these heights should be secured, before any of the main party attempted to get through. 

From dawn until late in the afternoon we would be swinging along the road, some of us climbing the heights which towered almost perpendicularly from the road, and then arrive at a camping place at any time between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m., without having anything to eat since starting off that morning. These camping grounds would be generally selected in an open space near a spring, and the camp itself would be laid out four square, and each of the four groups were responsible for protecting their corner frontages. At night fall, any high prominence overlooking the camp would be picketted and, with the sentries placed round the camp, we were more or less secure. 

At one stage, we picked up a telegraph line repairing outfit, who were waiting to be escorted through some particularly dangerous country. At 4 a.m. next morning, we set off across a wide open flat and, as it had rained continuously for a couple of days, we sank at each step into a couple of inches of pure clay. My particular group was that day detailed as rear guard, whose duty it was to remain behind the last of the teams. The horses pulled and strained in their traces through about eight or ten miles of this country, when at midday we rested at the foot of the hills over which we had to cross that night. 

By that time the animals were in a state of utter exhaustion and, in order to get the wagons over the rocky slopes, each of us had to turn to and lend a hand at man-handling. them over the steepest pinches. To make matters infinitely worse, it began to rain about four o'clock, and as the road turned to the left one got the full blast of the bitter evening wind. While the sun shone brilliantly the heat was terrific, yet when it began to rain up amongst those heights the reverse of climatic conditions would be experienced. Away ahead along the road lay a heap of mud structures, similar to ant hills, which we knew to be the village beyond which we were to camp that night. Two or three of these Army Transport carts soon out-distanced the others, and, on reaching the more level road, these were sent on ahead while we waited for the others to come up. 

The evening shadows darkened and the wind became more bitter, so we at once sought shelter, finding a haven in a nullah which ran across the road. One of the lads had some tea in his haversack, and before long a fire was made with grass, and the billy filled from a stream running near by. As we sat and drank the warm beverage, two men from a nomad tribe encamped on the hillside, put in an appearance, and, with voice and gesture, we made them understand that we wanted some eggs. Hardly had they returned with these when some old men and women came down, displaying for sale both fowls and eggs. We bought up the latter, but discarded the former. 

The remainder of the party was still some two miles in rear, so a couple of us decided to view at close range this tribal camp. We set off and within fifty yards of these rough shelters were surrounded by a crowd of the usual howling camp dogs, and naked curious children. The camp was composed of about twenty-four huge, black, tarry canvas shelters, filled not only with men, women and children, but goats, sheep, dogs and fowls, with a floor about two inches deep in mud and filth. The men and women greeted us with black looks and scowls, as if our presence polluted the sanctity of the village. Five minutes sufficed for a view of the nomad village type, and one carried the odours of that place in his nostrils for many days. 

On reaching the road we saw that the other transports were only a few hundred yards behind. After another hour's pulling and swearing, we reached camp and drew our rations, which in a remarkably short space of time were eaten without the aid of knives, forks or table-napkins, but with. I am sure, more relish than one would enjoy a dinner in any fashionable restaurant. No bed was more acceptable than the one we had that night.

Although it is admitted that stones are somewhat rough and hard as a palliasse, an exhausted man, hardened by such tramps as we had done, would find rest anywhere, especially after having covered eighteen miles through clay flats and over steep ridges with the added exertion of the pulling and pushing of laden telegraph wagons. That day we were kept going from about 4 a.m. until somewhere near 7 p.m., with nothing to eat between breakfast and supper except a hard army biscuit and the eggs we managed to buy. 

Before retiring that night, we bought more eggs, which were boiled hard for next day's lunch, and, although it was another march of sixteen miles, the road was much better as it led over harder ground. We were all much fresher on reaching camp that night than the previous day. No doubt it was due to the fact that our spirits were buoyed up with the knowledge that Kirmanshah was to-morrow's goal. Kirmanshah conjured up the first sight of a real Persian city, and the, next morning, 9th. May, found us going strongly on the good road that led to it. A ridge lay ahead and with swinging strides the little column surmounted the top. It halted for about ten minutes, drinking in the view of the minaretted and domed city, surrounded with a wealth of green trees and shrubs so restful to the eye after so many days' tramp through a treeless and rocky country, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the cliffs and broken, bare mountains. 

Leading to the city were ploughed fields, and others with wheat and rice crops, two or three feet high. Beyond the city ran an immense barrier of snow-capped mountains which seemed to be the strong arm of protection almost encircling the city itself. After the rest, the column moved ahead with renewed vigour and, on gaining the edge of the city, swung round to the outskirts and pitched camp on a knoll which commanded the whole place. Near by was a camp of a section of Australian Wireless people, who, with the usual insistence of the race, soon made themselves known, and it was with great  pleasure that Australian singled out Australian, and after the usual, "Where do you come from, cobber?" soon settled down to debate the merits of "our 'arbour," or the well laid-out and beautifully-gardened Melbourne, then on to the Cup winners. 

The most excellent orders yet issued on the march were received that night, wherein was contained the glad instructions that we were to rest for three days. These days were devoted to sight-seeing, and the report of a famine were soon turned to a melancholy fact. On going to the city, knots of starving inhabitants were seen scattered across the valley actually eating grass, and every step in the city brought one face to face with a living skeleton. Those strong enough begged or watched their opportunity to steal. Those too weak to stand, lay dying in the streets. The dead were passed at frequent intervals. Mothers, with maternal instinct, clung to their dying, and in many cases, dead children; children crowded round the dead body of a parent, while many were so weak that a touch would fell them to the ground, from which they could not rise without assistance. 

The bazaars, even in spite of so much poverty and death, were alive with merchants, producers and buyers, bartering and selling. Here one missed the haggling of the bargain hunter and avaricious merchant of other Eastern cities, and it was soon seen that the Persian merchant preferred the quieter methods of business from the strenuous bargaining of Baghdad. In most cases the merchant sat, cross-legged, in his little rabbit-hutch of a shop, and awaited the pleasure of a customer, either displaying for sale soft-goods in the shape of bright materials with the brand "Made in Manchester" stamped on the outside, or such groceries as tea, rice, sugar, dried fruits and native tobacco. Here and there was a brass worker banging away at his wares, or a hatter making those strange, black felt "beehive" hats of the Persian. 

The most interesting worker was the baker, who, covered in flour, was hard at work kneading dough, while his huge round oven was heating. Taking a piece of dough in his hands, he soon moulded it into the desired shape, first by pressing it out flat, and then extending its dimensions by throwing it from the palm of one hand to the other. When a number of these had been shaped, the hot coals were scraped out of the oven and the dough placed inside to bake, after which they were exhibited for sale like so many hams hanging on hooks, or rags on a clothes line.

The market square was fringed with the usual rabbit-hutch shops. The centre was filled with donkeys and camels, around which farm produce was displayed for sale in the shape of mars (sour milk), dirty white-coloured butter and cheese containing enough cholera germs to kill half the city's population. The most pathetic of all were the women endeavouring to sell their tawdry ornaments and odd house furnishings in order to procure sufficient money to ward off the evils of the famine for a few more weeks. Others had done this before and their fate was known. Bit by bit, the householder's fillings and furnishings go; a little more food is procured; then, when the last is sold, the only food is the grass of the fields. Certainly a life not too full of roses. 

Sickened by the appalling sights of the famine-stricken city, though refreshed after three days' rest, we moved onward once more, this time with Hamadad as our goal. The valley ahead was the widest yet seen, being some ten to twelve miles across, covered with a beautiful carpet of green grass and crops, relieved at intervals by clumps of trees showing the position of a village. Fertile though the country appeared. All crops during the last two or three seasons had failed and the hopes of the inhabitants were centred on those green fields of corn and rice. Would they mature? Or would they, when the dry season set in, frizzle and dry as those of previous years? 

Up to this period we had been living chiefly on Government rations, such as bully beef, biscuits and cheese, jam, tea and sugar, varied by the eggs and dried fruits bought on the road. From now on we were to live on the country, and in order to do this, officers were allowed one pound and the sergeants ten shillings a day. The officers and sergeants formed themselves into little groups for feeding purposes, and got hold of native servants to do the odd slushy work. On our departure from Baghdad the officers were allowed one batman to every three officers. As these lads had recently been  discharged from hospital and were awaiting their draft at the concentration camp, their powers of endurance were most limited. Early on the march, it was seen that these boys had to be helped to a greater extent than they could help, and were given a lift on the odd mules over the rougher stages of the march. 

To lessen their burden, most of us procured a native servant, and not only were they useful for the odd jobs, but of immense value in buying, as well as an aid to learn the language. The necessary precaution of fumigating these urchins was taken, and after they were scrubbed and clothed in odd bits of uniform and singlets, they presented quite a respectable appearance, while they themselves were in the seventh heaven of delight and the envy of the other kids of the country Their authority, as being servants of the "sahibs" would break down any barrier and procure food that we ourselves could not get. 

Their powers of endurance were marvellous. We men would be exhausted after the daily march of from fifteen to twenty-five miles, yet these youths would reach camp as fresh as paint and immediately set to lighting a fire or drawing water in the preparation of the evening meal. Their honesty at the age of ten to fourteen was about equal to that of white youngsters of the same age, and if anything was taken, it was generally some fancy article that caught their curious eye. 

The first stage out from Kirmanshah was over a first-class road that led through the wide valley, bounded on either side with the never-ending rocky barrier of mountains. Looking across from the road to these ridges the distance appeared to be only five or six miles, whereas in reality it was nearer fifteen. The clear light of Persian springtime is most deceptive, and objects which are twelve and fifteen miles distant appear to be quite near. 

Early next morning, the column was swinging along in splendid style, averaging three miles an hour, which is excellent going, seeing that the pace was regulated by that of the mules, and that only fifty minutes in each hour was devoted to actual marching the remaining ten being spent in resting. Presently a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, and within a couple of hours its cause was manifested in the shape of a long convoy of mules and camels. As we approached, its composition was clearly seen to be a body of troops with their baggage animals. 

I happened to be in charge of six men who formed the advance guard, with our main body about three quarters of a mile in the rear. One man was sent back to inform our commanding officer of the fact that Persian troops were ahead. So far we had not seen any of the Shah's army, but knew that it was trained by Swedish officers, the outcome of an agreement between England and Russia when arriving at an understanding concerning the position of each in Persia. At that time we were quite ignorant of the Shah's displeasure with our movements within his borders. 

It was soon apparent that this force was composed of at least two battalions and, if they cared to be nasty, we six individuals would have a most unpleasant time. Even the fifty odd, back along the road, would not appear to have much chance. The position was nicely put by a young Canadian sergeant who said, "Say, Sir, I guess we'll have about as much chance as a snowflake in hell if these here guys cut up." Well, we had to chance that, and as we closed on one another the whole outfit could be sized up as nothing but a rabble. Ahead of them were a string of about twenty camels, with huge box-like  contrivances slung on either side, one balancing the other and on closer investigation, revealed their occupants to be richly dressed but veiled women, holding frightened youngsters, the wives and families of the officers. Such a thing as an advance guard was apparently not considered necessary but, judging from the number of colours carried and the blare of trumpets, military glory was reckoned rather by picturesque display than fighting utility. 

The commanding officer, ablaze with gold tassels and coloured trimmings, rode ahead, surrounded by his staff. A little in the rear came the first batch of standard bearers, carrying the national colours of Persia wrought in gold braid on white satin. Behind these marched the drummers and trumpeters, creating an inferno by banging the drums and blaring the trumpets without time or reason. If they contemplated trouble the only manner in which to meet it was by bluff, so, ordering my men to march strictly to attention with arms at the correct slope, we stepped out briskly. Within the distance laid  down in "Infantry Training," I bellowed out "Eyes Left," and the boys swung their heads towards the required direction like clockwork. 

The old Persian Commander was so thunderstruck at being greeted by such a salute that he bowed and saluted like the movements of a jumping-jack. Each officer was greeted similarly, much to their  edification, and, if their first thoughts were evilly disposed towards us, it was certain that they were well in our favour before we reached the end of the column.

Later we heard that the force was moved from another town south of Kirmanshah, with orders to stop the advance of the "miserable" British force that was marching through Persia, and what might have been an uncomfortable experience for us, was turned into an amusing episode by playing on the vanity of the Eastern mind. That night we pitched camp under the shadow of a giant precipice which, forming the side of a section of the mountain spur, reared its craggy head some 400 feet into the heavens. 

At the base gushed forth the purest of pure water from about a dozen springs, bubbling and swirling until they intermingled and formed a wide stream, which ran through the grassy flats of the valley. Nearby was heaped the ruins of an ancient capital of Darius. Heaps of jagged stones, broken masonry and smashed columns were the only relics of the one time centre of ancient civilization and glory. The hand of the conqueror had been heavy and in no place was one stone left standing upon the other. Devastation had been complete; yet the glory of the king of that capital would live for ever, for the  busy and cunning hands of these citizens had left records of that city's military power in carving, in ancient letterings, that people's history for a considerable distance upon the face of the cliff. 

After the evening meal, I sat on a piece of broken column, filled my pipe and was soon lost in thought, picturing the old city in its days of Power. Here there were scattered dozens of broken columns. I wondered if this was the site of the King's Palace or his Audience Chamber. What stories could those old stones tell, if only gifted with speech! Stories of great councils where the brain and wit of the councillors conceived and worked out some brilliant military expedition! Was it there, along the terraced stream, that the mighty walked and chatted light-heartedly with their women folk? 

I wondered if yonder heap of debris were the remains of another palace where brave men danced with the dazzling beauties of that age. I supposed that open square was were the king reviewed his troops with critical eye and besought them to greater deeds and extolled the splendour of his dominions. Yet tonight all was silent. The stars peeped out, first one, and then in pairs and groups until the heavens were a mass of glistening pin-pricks of silver. The cliff stood silhouetted in all its grandeur, unconquered by man, symbolic of Nature's stability and triumph over the passing history of mankind. Though demolished, how mighty was this city, symbolic of ancient Persian power over the Persia of to-day! 

This morning, about fifteen hundred of the Shah's troops allowed sixty Britishers to pass them by without the slightest attempt to molest them. What would that ancient king, who founded this city have done to a force of sixteen hundred and sixty aliens who dared to pass into his realms in contravention of his royal decree to the contrary? Surely degeneration has sapped the vitals of the once all-powerful Persia.

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ANZAC HISTORY Histories of Units of the First AIF and the First NZEF.