The Secrets of a Kuttite: An Authentic Story of Kut, Adventures in Captivity and Stamboul IntrigueMousley, Edward O. (Edward Opotiki)
History
The Secrets of a Kuttite: An Authentic Story of Kut, Adventures in Captivity and Stamboul Intrigue
Mousley, Edward O. (Edward Opotiki)
Al Kut (Iraq) -- History -- Siege, 1915-1916; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, Turkish
After my unsuccessful shikar for food through the great
building I returned in no amiable mood, and it was then that
the humorous gods held high council, and, remembering my
opinion on Angora bugs, provided a little joke for themselves
afresh. These new bugs were for shock tactics. There was
no artillery preparation or demonstration from flank battalions,
but suddenly I was awakened from a doze by bitings in fifty
places. Leaping out of bed I gathered them up in threes
and fours. Tearing my clothes off I caught the rear files
before they could get to cover. Undismayed, they renewed
the attack as soon as I again tried to sleep. This became too
ridiculous. Finally, my language attracted a crowd of laughing
Turks, and one informed me in French that the hospital
was famous for bugs. The pillow and mattress I discovered
to be their first line, but their reserve lines were in the wooden
frieze. "Ye gods!" I thought, "this is too much. Here
am I starving and curing myself and doing my best to smile
over it when I'm expected to put up a regular hunt!" I
slung the mattress away and, seizing some clothes from a
wardrobe outside, with the orderly hanging on to me the
while, remade the bed. Still on they came. I decided that
if I were Napoleon I would change the Turkish crescent to
a bug passant, with that half-comical grin the lions passant
have, the near fore paw in the air and face screwed around at
you. I collapsed towards dawn with sheer irritation. But in
my sleep on they came, on from every wall, from every point
of the horizon, from the sky, from beyond the confines of the
universe--I myself was becoming a bug--when I awoke with
a roar, and saw the Turkish orderly standing beside me
grinning. I gave him cigarettes for appreciating a situation
I no longer could myself, and he taught me some more Turkish
"Zorari yok" (never mind), and "Yawash" (gently).
I awaited the dawn with an increasing hunger, having
now devoured about a handful of lump sugar I had put into
my pocket as an emergency ration. The hours crawled by
until eleven, when the visiting doctor came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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