"Why didn't you attack on the 22nd? What happened?" "Sweet damn all. Didn't even get a look in!" "Then why on earth didn't you? You've had your reinforcements and sufficient time." "'Tis not in the nature of mortals to command success. We've done better, Townshend--we've deserved it!" "Rot! There's a screw loose somewhere. At Essin I turned him out of a much stronger position than he's got now, and with one-fourth of your force. Do you suppose we like being here or can hold out indefinitely?" "Don't gibe! Do you know you're certain for a peerage--Townshend of Ctesiphon, I hear--nice alliteration too." "No, really? Well, old chap, get through when you can. Some old time! We're eating door-mats and dubbin [Liar]! My pigeon though." "Oh, I say! Last night I thought of suggesting we risked a plane landing in Kut for you and bringing you away so that you could have had the honour of relieving Kut." "Then why didn't you?" "Well, I thought what a godless ass you would look if you didn't succeed. Nothing seems certain except these floods!" "Do you really think there is any chance of your getting through?" "Not in the least! Even Lloyds wouldn't look at it. But the Bishop of London says you are making a glorious page in British history!" "Page, sir, be damned! We've finished two volumes long ago. Is there anything else?" "Yes! The people in all the churches at home are praying for you." Loud laughter sounded through both megaphones, and I bethought me of the queer temperament of our race--and awoke. _10 p.m._--Cockie has retired to bed. I am alone with the "dim glim." The Turkish aeroplane has left us unmolested to-day, and for a change one of our own machines from below flew past us and bombed the Turkish main camp. It also dropped some money for the troops and letters for the General, as it has several times previously. There has been a considerable increase in the scurvy cases lately among the native troops. Of course all the drivers in the ammunition column are native troops. I had a scurvy inspection to-day, and the regimental surgeon picked out the grubby ones. It is due to total lack of vegetables. This is what we must chiefly guard against--disease. Anthrax also has broken out in a few isolated cases and the orders are for livers of all animals to be buried. I am much more comfortable here, as we have a long table and chairs and two or three stock books, "Monte Cristo" and Longfellow. That simple poet's lines in "Sand of the Desert in an Hour Glass" seem to have added to themselves additional appeal since the siege. "Or caravans that from Bassorah's gate With Westward steps depart; Or Mecca's pilgrims confident of Fate, And resolute in heart!" That is the old Basra downstream: I must, if possible, visit the ruins of Babylon some sixty odd miles from here and forty directly west of Azizie. Also I would like to see Istamboul as they call it: and if Aylmer doesn't hurry up I possibly shall.