EN-DOR UNVEILED

E.H. JONES

THE STORY BEHIND THE ROAD TO EN-DOR

EN-DORUNVEILED

Includes original material behind the story:the siege of Kut in Iraq, the death march across Syria

and coded messages sent from Yozgad

THE ROAD TO EN-DOR CAPTURE AT THE SIEGE OF KUT-EL-AMARA AND ESCAPE FROM YOZGAD

Harry Jones was captured in Iraq during the First World War by the Turkish army at the disastrous siege of Kut-el-Amara in April 1916 and marched 2,000 miles to captivity in the Yozgad prisoner of war camp in Turkey. His unique escape from Yozgad with Cedric Hill using stealth, séances, and telepathy to manipulate and control the minds of their Turkish captors was immortalised in Harry’s book The Road to En-dor.

This companion book gives the background to Harry’s story. It covers a brief introduction to the events leading up to his capture at the siege of Kut-el-Amara, his captivity and his extraordinary escape from Yozgad. Included are anecdotes from fellow prisoners and a selection of postcards and letters sent by Harry from Yozgad containing coded messages. Initially the messages told of the condition of the troops following the ‘death march’ across what is now Iraq and Syria. Later, the messages gave details in code of his planned escape from captivity.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

This book has been compiled from original documents and artefacts held by descendants of E.H. Jones who, except where otherwise noted, hold all rights pertaining to the documents including their publication, copying or transmission in any form, and to the interpretation of the documents including in the accompanying publication The Road to En-dor.

Material provided by The Imperial War Museum is © IWM. Material provided by The National Archives is © The National Archives

© All rights reserved.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Specific thanks in compiling this book go to my sister Gail Kincaid, who helped with the Welsh aspects and was instrumental in the code-cracking, and to my aunt Eryl Jones, who helped fill in some of the gaps. Particular acknowledgement, though, is due to my uncle Griff Jones, Eryl’s late husband and son of E.H. Jones, who worked wonders gathering together missing letters and putting them in some order but who sadly died before this book could be written. I know he would have enjoyed it. The authors are also grateful to The Imperial War Museum and The National Archives at Kew for permission to use certain material in this publication relating to the siege at Kut-el-Amara and messages from Yozgad and who retain copyright to such material.

Tony Craven Walker February 2014

Figure 1: HARRY’S JOURNEY

o Harry joined the Volunteer Artillery Battery (Rangoon Contingent) as a Gunner and made his way in mid-1915 from Rangoon in Burma to Bombay in India via Calcutta.

o From there he sailed to Basra via Karachi on board the steamer Barala which left Bombay on 16th July 1915.

o He arrived in Basra on 24th July 1915. Two days later he journeyed up the Tigris River to Al’ Amarah and then, in November 1915, on to Kut-el-Amara, south of Baghdad.

o The siege of Kut-el-Amara (Kut) started on 3rd December 1915 and lasted 147 days until surrender on 29th April 1916 – one of the longest sieges and defeats in British military history.

o After surrender, Harry, by now a Second Lieutenant, was marched across what is now Iraq, northern Syria and Turkey to imprisonment in Turkey. Many, many of the troops died en route.

o Harry was held as a prisoner of war for just under two years in Yozgad in the Anatolian mountains of Turkey. He used subterfuge and trickery to talk to spirits, delude the camp commandant and feign madness which resulted in him being taken to Constantinople in April 1918.

o In October 1918 he was finally put on a Red Cross Exchange ship at Smyrna (modern-day Izmir) where he miraculously ‘recovered’ as soon as he boarded and the ship left Turkish waters.

o His trip home took him by ship to Alexandria in Egypt. In November 1918 he went by boat from Port Said in Egypt to Taranto in the heel of Italy and from there by troop train. He arrived back in England on 8th December 1918, three and a half years after joining up in Burma.

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CONTENTS

1. Introduction ...................................................................................................................... 5

2. Harry and Mair ................................................................................................................. 9

3. Prelude to a siege ............................................................................................................ 14

4. The siege of Kut-el-Amara ............................................................................................. 18

5. Capture and the trek across Mesopotamia ...................................................................... 28

6. Yozgad – Early days and coded messages ..................................................................... 40

7. Life at Yozgad ................................................................................................................ 48

8. Escape plans ................................................................................................................... 53

9. Freedom .......................................................................................................................... 56

10. Stories from fellow prisoners ......................................................................................... 60

11. Nerves ............................................................................................................................. 71

12. Letters and cards from the Mesopotamia campaign ....................................................... 83

12.1 Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah ........................................ 84

12.2 Letter dated 21st September 1915 from Al’ Amarah ....................................... 92

12.3 Letter dated 14th November 1915 from Kut .................................................... 99

12.4 Christmas cards from Mesopotamia, Xmas 1915 .......................................... 109

13. Letters and postcards from Yozgad .............................................................................. 116

13.1 Postcard dated 25th June 1916 from Angora (Ankara) .................................. 117

13.2 Postcard dated 26th July 1916 from Yozgad ................................................. 119

13.3 Postcard dated 3rd August 1916 from Yozgad .............................................. 121

13.4 Postcard dated 7th September 1916 from Yozgad ......................................... 123

13.5 Letter undated, likely September 1916, from Yozgad ................................... 125

13.6 Postcard dated 12th October 1916 from Yozgad ........................................... 128

13.7 Postcard dated 26th October 1916 from Yozgad ........................................... 130

13.8 Postcard dated 9th November 1916 from Yozgad ......................................... 132

13.9 Postcard dated 16th November 1916 from Yozgad ....................................... 134

13.10 Letter dated 27th December 1916 from Yozgad ............................................ 136

13.11 Postcard dated 28th December 1916 from Yozgad ........................................ 140

13.12 Postcard dated 25th February 1917 from Yozgad .......................................... 142

13.13 Postcard dated 25th March 1917 from Yozgad .............................................. 144

13.14 Letter dated 15th November 1917 from Yozgad ........................................... 146

13.15 Letter dated 22nd November 1917 from Yozgad ........................................... 150

13.16 Letter dated 29th November 1917 from Yozgad ........................................... 154

13.17 Letter dated 15th December 1917 from Yozgad ............................................ 158

13.18 Letter dated 6th January 1918 from Yozgad .................................................. 162

13.19 Letter dated 25th February 1918 from Yozgad .............................................. 165

13.20 Postcard dated 3rd March 1918 from Yozgad ............................................... 169





13.25 Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad .................................................. 182

13.26 Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad .................................................. 186


13.28 Letter dated 6th October 1918 from Ramsgate .............................................. 192

13.29 Letter dated 10th October 1918 from Tighnabruaich ..................................... 194

13.30 Letter dated 3rd November 1918 from Tighnabruaich .................................. 197

BIBLIOGRAPHY ........................................................................................................ 200

FIGURES

1. Map showing Harry’s journey between 1915 and 1918 ………. i 2. Harry up country in Burma, 1914 ……………………………... 10 3. Mair at Taungdwingyi, Burma, late 1913 ……………………... 11 4. Harry at Taungdwingyi, Burma, late 1913 ……………………. 12 5. British troops embarking in Bombay for Mesopotamia ……….. 13 6. Al’ Amarah to Ctesiphon showing Kut and 1915 battle fronts ... 14 7. Turkish infantry launching a counter-attack …………………… 16 8. Map of Kut town showing siege elements …………………….. 19 9. Arabs in the ruined town of Kut ……………………………….. 21 10. Officers’ hospital at Kut during the siege ……………………... 23 11. Indian sepoy at the end of the siege …………………………... 25 12. Turkish army biscuit issued to Harry at the end of the Kut siege

showing his embedded fingerprints ……………………………. 30 13. The Arch of Chosroess, Ctesiphon …………………………….. 32 14. Map showing first part of prisoners’ trek from Kut to Mamourie 34 15. Map showing second part of prisoners’ trek from Mamourie to

Yozgad …………………………………………………………. 38 16. Yozgad taken secretly with a camera made by the prisoners ….. 40 17. Bimbashi Kiazim Bey and his staff, with British officers, at

Yozgad …………………………………………………………. 41 18. Prisoners of war at Yozgad, 1917 ……………………………… 46 19. British officers at Yozgad ……………………………………… 47 20. Lane at Yozgad taken with an illicit camera …………………... 49 21. Blériot Experimental Aircraft (the BE2) similar to that flown by

C.W. Hill ……………………………………………………….. 51 22. Upper House in Yozgad where Harry was housed …………….. 52 23. Cedric and Harry on board SS Herefordshire in 1922 …………. 56 24. Original letters and Christmas cards from Al’ Amarah and Kut-el-

Amara are given in Chapter 12 ……………………………….. 83 25. Original letters and postcards from Angora and Yozgad including

coded messages are given in Chapter 13……………………….. 116

1. Introduction

The Road to En-dor tells the story of perhaps the most remarkable and ingenious escape from a prisoner of war camp ever to have taken place. It was first published in 1919 and was reprinted many times. The 1955 edition carried a foreword by Eric Williams, MC, author of The Wooden Horse, the story of his Second World War escape from Stalag Luft III.

In the foreword, Eric Williams wrote: ‘For sheer ingenuity, persistence and skill, the account you are about to read is second to none.’ It has become the classic of ‘escape by strategy’ as opposed to ‘escape by tactics’. Major Pat Reid, the author of The Colditz Story, also a classic Second World War escape book, considered The Road to En-dor one of the great escape stories of the First World War.

The war of 1914–18 is viewed in Europe as a war fought largely between European nations on the battlefields of France and on the Eastern Front in Russia, but major campaigns also took place further south against Turkish troops of the Ottoman Empire. In Mesopotamia,1 an area which now largely comprises modern-day Iraq, British and Indian troops confronted the Turkish army. Battles were fought over the same places as those encountered by British and American soldiers in the recent invasion and occupation of Iraq. Many of the town names would be very familiar to those troops.

The 1915–18 war in Mesopotamia has become known as ‘The Neglected War’. The more remote campaigns and battles which took place there have now largely faded from British memories and are kept alive only by the legend surrounding Lawrence of Arabia in Jordan and Syria. However, many thousands of British and Indian troops died in Mesopotamia fighting the armies of Turkey, at that time allied to Germany. The consequences of this war, fought in the desert wastes less than a hundred years ago, are still being felt today in Israel, Lebanon, Syria and Iraq.

This narrative is the story of Second Lieutenant Elias Henry (‘Harry’ or ‘Harri’) Jones, a Welshman. It tells of his capture after the siege of Kut-el-Amara and the background to his subsequent extraordinary escape from Yozgad together with Second Lieutenant Cedric Waters Hill, an Australian. Harry wrote

1 Which means ‘the land between two rivers’, in this case the Tigris and Euphrates.

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of their escape in 1919 when he was recovering on military sick leave after the war.

His book became an instant bestseller and tells a unique tale of intrigue and the manipulation of minds using a mixture of sleight of hand, conjuring tricks, psychology, complex code systems to portray telepathy, sustained and extraordinary acting and teamwork. The methods they used preyed on the natural superstitions and beliefs held by the people that Harry and Cedric were seeking to manipulate and hoodwink – particularly the belief that spirits of the dead existed and could be communicated with by those who possessed the skills of a psychic. The spells which Harry and Cedric were able to weave became so complex and intense that a very large number of people were completely convinced of the reality of the supernatural. They nearly led to Harry’s and Cedric’s death.

Harry called his book The Road to En-dor because of the use that he and Cedric made of séances and telepathy to communicate with spirits of the dead. He prefaced his book with the final verse of Rudyard Kipling’s poem En-dor, based on the Witch of En-dor, a medium at the time of Saul. The poem tells of the human longing to communicate with the dead, a yearning that many in Britain had after the terrible and tragic losses suffered between 1914 and 1918. Kipling’s own son, John, was killed on 27th September 1915 at the Battle of Loos in Belgium. His death was a tragedy for Kipling.2

The road to En-dor is easy to tread For Mother or yearning Wife, There, it is sure, we shall meet our Dead As they were even in life. Earth has not dreamed of the blessing in store For desolate hearts on the road to En-dor. Whispers shall comfort us out of the dark – Hands – ah, God! – that we knew! Visions and voices – look and hark! – Shall prove that the tale is true, And that those who have passed to the further shore May be hailed – at a price – on the road to En-dor

2 Kipling himself possibly toyed with séances. His sister Alice was closely involved with the Society for Psychical Research in London.

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But they are so deep in their new eclipse Nothing they say can reach, Unless it be uttered by alien lips And framed in a stranger’s speech. The son must send word to the mother that bore Through an hireling’s mouth. ’Tis the rule of En-dor. And not for nothing these gifts are shown By such as delight our Dead. They must twitch and stiffen and slaver and groan Ere the eyes are set in the head, And the voice from the belly begins. Therefore, We pay them a wage where they ply at En-dor. Even so, we have need of faith And patience to follow the clue. Often, at first, what the dear one saith Is babble, or jest, or untrue. (Lying spirits perplex us sore Till our loves – and their lives – are well known at En-dor) Oh, the Road to En-dor is the oldest road And the craziest road of all! Straight it runs to the Witch’s abode, As it did in the days of Saul. And nothing has changed of the sorrow in store For such as go down on the road to En-dor!

The relevance of the poem will be understood by anyone who has read the story of Harry’s and Cedric’s escape and the human frailties that they exploited. It was by writing the book that Harry hoped to expose the dangers that blinding faith in psychic communication could have on the vulnerable, namely those widowed or bereaved by the tragedies of the Great War.

Included in this companion book is a selection of Harry’s letters and postcards written from the ill-fated Mesopotamia campaign and, later, from prisoner of war camp in Yozgad. Many of these contain coded messages on the disastrous state of the troops whilst others contain signs of his plan to escape. Some are specifically referred to in The Road to En-dor and every effort has been made to rediscover the messages.

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Whilst in Yozgad prisoner of war camp Harry and Cedric also kept secret diaries of the séances, hand written in micro text to make them easier to conceal. These complete records have survived and show the extraordinary level of intrigue and complexity which was a central part of their unique escape plan. They extend to twenty-four pages of minutely spaced text which requires a magnifying glass to read. One example page is included in The Road to En-dor, alongside which this book is published.

None of this original material has been previously published and all is closely intertwined with the escape story.

The letters include some from Harry to his wife Mair showing clearly the deep love and affection that each felt for the other. Although separated for long periods, Harry and Mair were lovers all their lives.

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2. Harry and Mair

E.H. (Harry) Jones was born on 21st September 1883 in Aberystwyth, Wales, the eldest child of Henry Jones and Annie Walker. He was named after his paternal grandfather Elias, a shoe-maker in Llangernyw, Denbighshire, and his father Henry but became known in the family as ‘Harry’, ‘Hal’ or, by his wife Mair, as ‘Stwnch’ (Welsh for ‘mashed swede’).

Harry’s father, Sir Henry Jones, rose to be one of the most prominent and influential philosophers of the early 20th century, holding the position of Professor of Moral Philosophy at the University of Glasgow from 1894 until his death in 1922. He was knighted in the New Year’s Honours List of 1912, an honour which he recorded with the pithy and self-deprecating statement ‘of course it is the reward of mediocrity; it never is anything else these days’.

Although Sir Henry lived all of the latter part of his life in Scotland, setting up home with his Scottish wife Annie at Noddfa in the small village of Tighnabruaich on the Kyles of Bute, he remained true to his Welsh roots all his life. His position in Welsh society resulted in him having close contact with David Lloyd George, the Prime Minister during the First World War, a powerful connection which he was able to put to good use when passing the messages hidden in postcards written by his son Harry from captivity in Turkey.

Harry met his wife to be, Mair, when they were both only thirteen years old. They were instantly smitten and, although Mair lived in North Wales and Harry in Scotland, they stayed in love for the rest of their lives. ‘I have loved you since we were boy and girl together,’ Harry wrote, ‘and I love you more with every day that passes.’ Many of their original love letters have survived but their union was splintered by separations. Mair’s childhood was in Wales; Harry’s in Scotland; they met only during school holidays. They wrote briefly and cheerfully.

Harry went to school in Glasgow for his formative years and graduated with a degree from Glasgow University, subsequently going on to qualify as a barrister-at-law at Middle Temple. He had his sights set on a career in the Colonial Service and, in 1906, he passed the Indian Civil Services Examinations. Although it meant a period of long separation from Mair he departed shortly after for Burma. He was only twenty-two. Based in Kawkareik,

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east of Moulmein3 in Lower Burma and close to the border with Thailand, he soon had administrative responsibilities for a province the size of Wales.

Absent from Mair, Harry became dependent on opium in the loneliness of the Burmese jungle. There were failures in fighting free of it: ‘I see now very clearly that even the blow of my brother’s sudden death4 was no excuse for my giving way,’ he writes to Mair in June 1909. But in the end was success. ‘When I wrote to you from Kyauktalon5 – the first time I was absolutely alone in the jungle out here – I promised you I would never, whatever happened, touch that dreadful drug again. I have kept that promise.’

In 1910 Harry and Mair became engaged. There was another separation, another testing time in Burma before they finally married on 29th July 1913, in Bangor, on the edge of Snowdonia in North Wales, at the age of twenty-nine. On 3rd September 1913 they departed to start a life together in Burma.

Harry wasn’t lonely any more. When he went home after work, Mair was there. At the beginning they were based in Taungdwingyi in remote Upper Burma. Harry worked long hours and was often away up country. As was common in the days of Colonial administration, the loneliness was hers.

Mair kept a journal: ‘Harry works from 7 a.m. till 10 p.m., except for meals’… ‘Harry went away last night for seventeen days, and I would have given my head to have gone too. But I should have been more of a nuisance than anything else’… ‘It is very lonely but he will only be one or two days post away’… ‘I have had somebody to see me nearly every day. A woman and a little girl of five come very often and she crochets and I sew and the little girl looks at pictures.’ 3 Now Mawlamyine. 4 Harry’s brother Will died in 1906 at the age of sixteen. 5 Located near Thaton, north of Moulmein (Mawlamyine) and east of Rangoon (Yangon) in Lower Burma.

Figure 2. Harry up country in Burma, 1914

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Mair was the only white woman for fifty miles and for days she would be alone while Harry was on tour. Yet she dressed for her solitary dinner every night, visible to unseen eyes in the jungle as she sat on her open veranda dining by the light of a paraffin lamp. In March 1914, Harry and Mair moved to Kyaukse, still in remote Burma but, this time, to a larger house, while Harry had been promoted to Deputy Commissioner.

At around this time Mair became pregnant again after an earlier miscarriage. How she longed for her baby! Six months later, two days after Harry’s thirty-first birthday, she wrote in her journal:

I have been far away ‘beside the streams and up the mountain-sides of dreams’. But what I have been dreaming about is still too dreamy to put into this. Only three months more to go. It will be out of the everywhere into here. What isn’t a dream is that we shall have to leave this dear old place in three weeks. Another transfer after only seven months and back all the way down to Moulmein. I don’t know how to begin now to write about poor old Kyaukse. It’s

been very neglected because of the one big beautiful dream that’s filled it, but I’ll always love and remember it because of that.

Mair gave birth to their first born, a baby girl, Jean, in Rangoon in December 1914. By this time war had broken out in Europe and hostilities against Turkey commenced following the Turkish bombardment of Sevastopol, Odessa and Novorossisk on 29th October. On 6th November 1914 the first British and Indian troops landed at the mouth of the Shatt-al-Arab, in what is

Figure 3 – Mair at Taungdwingyi, Burma, late 1913

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now Iraq. These included a detachment of Royal Marines who were landed at Fao from the vessel HMS Ocean. (Eighty-nine years later, Royal Marines were also amongst the first to be landed at Fao in the Iraq invasion of 2003, this time from a helicopter assault ship which also, by an extraordinary twist of fate, had the name HMS Ocean.) The main purpose of the troop landings in Mesopotamia in November 1914 was to secure the area around Basra and protect British interests in the oilfields in Southern Persia. Little had changed ninety years later.

At around this time Harry started to give thought to joining the war effort. Burma in those days was administered as a province of British India. Indian troops were being sent to the defence of Basra and a general call had been put out in Burma for volunteers to join. Harry’s special sort of idealism demanded that he fight for his country and he set about joining up.

Clearly it would not be sensible for Mair and the newly born Jean to remain in Burma. Life there was not at all comfortable. The onset of war and the likelihood of Harry joining up made it completely unmanageable. In April 1915, less than two years after their marriage and newly pregnant with her second child, Mair sailed for England with four month old Jean. Harry remained behind to enlist in the Indian Army Reserve of Officers. Little did they know that they were not to meet again until December 1918, three and a half years later.

Harry became a member of the Volunteer Artillery Battery (Rangoon Contingent), many of whom, like him, joined up in Burma. In mid-1915, as a Gunner, he made his way to Bombay from where, on 16th July 1915, he set sail

Figure 4. Harry at Taungdwingyi, Burma, late 1913

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to Basra via Karachi on board the steamer Barala. They arrived on 24th July, when action was already underway in Nasariyeh on the Euphrates River and the main bulk of troops had made substantial progress up the Tigris River towards Baghdad. Two days later they proceeded up the Tigris River to Al’ Amarah where Harry was initially billeted.

Figure 5. British troops embarking in Bombay for service in Mesopotamia (courtesy of Imperial War Museum)

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3. Prelude to a siege

As a member of the Volunteer Artillery Battery, Harry became part of the Indian Expeditionary Force ‘D’ under Major-General Sir Charles Townshend, whose objective in the Mesopotamian campaigns of 1914–16 became the capture of Baghdad, an attempt which ended with defeat at the Battle of Ctesiphon in November 1915 and subsequent humiliation at the siege of Kut-el-Amara (Kut). Both lie on the Tigris River and featured again in the British and American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

On 2nd September 1915, Harry wrote to Mair from Al’ Amarah (see letter on page 84). By then, forward troops had proceeded upriver towards Kut and, by 1st August, had occupied the village of Ali-al-Gharbi as an advanced post some seventy miles north (see map below). This forward post was consolidated between 1st August and 15th September with the bulk of the Sixth Indian Division.

Figure 6. Al’ Amarah to Ctesiphon showing Kut and 1915 battle fronts (adapted from In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division by Major E.W.C. Sandes)

On 21st September Harry wrote to Mair again (see letter on page 92). He was still based in Al’Amarah on garrison work but he clearly found this frustrating. Since his earlier letter he had been promoted to Corporal. The main contingent of troops had, by now, repositioned some thirty-two miles further up the Tigris River, assembling at Sannaiyat and Nakhailat about eight miles east

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of Kut and close to Es-Sin where the Turks had constructed extensive trench positions.

By 26th September practically the entire force of the Sixth Indian Division was camped at Nakhailat. The Army Commander, General Sir John Nixon, to whom Townshend reported, and the Bishop of Lahore were both present and remained throughout the subsequent battle.

The Battle of Es-Sin took place on 28th September 1915 and was largely over by the following day when the Turkish army retreated upriver early in the morning. The Sixth Indian Division followed in pursuit and by 30th September had reached Kut. Rather than stopping to consolidate they continued to push on up the river, arriving at Bghailah on 2nd October and Aziziah on 5th October where they formed a new advanced position.

Around 13th November, Harry was positioned at Kut which was being established as a new rear base. He had also been further promoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant in the intervening period. The Voluntary Artillery Battery had two fifteen-pounder field guns at Kut at this point and was starting work to prepare the gun emplacements. He had, by then, been in Mesopotamia for some four months.

Harry wrote to Mair on 14th November. His letter expresses the weariness of the desert campaign. He had been lonely ever since Mair had left for England and he had left Burma.

I bed me down, o’nights, in my little tent, with the illimitable desert around me and God’s Bowl of Sky and Stars above, as securely, as peacefully, as hopefully, as in times of peace at home. I am coming back, Mairie bach,6 back to you and Sian fach7 and the little unknown…

The siege of Kut-el-Amara started two weeks later and it was the last correspondence that Harry could write to his wife for seven months. The ‘little unknown’ became his son Bevan, born on 3rd January 1916 when Harry was besieged at Kut. (Harry’s letter is on page 99.)

Already there was a force of some 13,500 British and Indian troops based at Aziziah further up the Tigris River with thirty-five field guns, gun boat, barge 6 Welsh for ‘little Mair’. 7 Welsh for ‘little Jean’.

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mounted naval guns and support ships. The first troops were leaving there for El-Kutiniah with the rest of the troops following four days later. On 19th November the main force re-grouped at Zor, lying between El-Kutiniah and Lajj (Figure 6). The following day, they moved on to Lajj, close to Ctesiphon where the Turkish army had prepared for an extensive defence of Baghdad. The die was cast.

The Battle of Ctesiphon (essentially the battle for Baghdad) began at 7.00 a.m. on 22nd November 1915. It was to have a material impact on the fortunes of the British and be the turning point for the 1914–16 Mesopotamia campaign.

Although Turkish troops at Ctesiphon outnumbered the British and Indian troops (reportedly by 3:1) the battle was a very close-run thing with both the Turkish and the British armies misinterpreting the strength of the other. It raged for two days with both sides exhausted and contemplating withdrawal. In the event, Townshend, recognising his over-stretched supply lines, resources sapped by battle and inferior numbers, decided, on 25th November 1915 to withdraw the British and Indian troops. Nixon, who was in overall command of the army in Mesopotamia, had already retired to Lajj the previous day, back down the Tigris River.

This was the start of the retreat which ended at Kut ten days later. It was chaotic with the retreating British and Indian army closely chased by Turkish troops and attacked by marauding bands of Arabs who had been welcoming them only days previously. Ships ran aground in the Tigris River, which abounded with hidden sandbanks. Others were lost in the fierce rearguard fighting.

Figure 7. Turkish infantry launching a counter-attack (courtesy of Imperial War Museum)

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By 29th November the exhausted army reached Qala Shadi after a retreat of some eighty miles from Ctesiphon (much further for those who followed the river route, due to the twists and turns of the Tigris River). On 2nd December 1915 they reached Shumran, just outside Kut, from where supplies could be sent to give them some relief and, on 3rd December, just under 10,400 finally arrived in Kut itself having travelled nearly a hundred miles in ten days under constant duress.

Thus began one of the longest sieges of a British army in British military history. The last of the troops to escape from Kut before the town was surrounded by the Turkish army under Nureddin Bey were the cavalry and transport troops who got out on 6th December 1915 before the last bridge, rapidly thrown across the Tigris River at Kut for the purpose, was destroyed.

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4. The siege of Kut-el-Amara

Harry’s involvement to this point was as one of the soldiers stationed at Kut seeing the return of the troops and participating in the urgent preparation of Kut’s inadequate defences for what was clearly going to be needed. On around 27th November 1915 (after the outcome of the Battle of Ctesiphon was clear and as the retreat was underway) they received word to expect to be attacked. Messages wired from Townshend, on the retreat from upstream, informed them that a Turkish force of some 4,000 men and two field guns was moving towards Kut and could attack at any moment. The rumour turned out to be false, and was probably based on sightings of large bands of marauding Arab cavalry, but caused considerable consternation amongst the small number of troops at Kut at that time before the main retreating army arrived.

Nixon arrived back in Kut by river ahead of the retreating force from Ctesiphon. On 28th November, he set off again from Kut south to Basra. However, his river steamer was attacked, giving support to the reports of an impending attack on Kut. To provide protection, one gun of the Volunteer Artillery Battery with 200 rounds and a double company of 67th Punjabis were put on a boat the following day to escort the steamer as it made a new attempt to escape to the south.

Harry and Sergeant Major W. Winchester from the Volunteer Artillery Battery were sent with this detachment. However, they ran into greater than expected hostile forces and were heavily fired upon at Shaik Sa’ad, forcing them to return again to Kut. The escort was strengthened with two guns of the Mountain Battery and one company of the 1/4 Hampshire Regiment, comprising some 400 men. With this increased protection, Nixon left again on 30th November for a run to Basra, this time successfully and just before the retreating troops arrived at Kut and were put under siege. Harry remained in Kut.

On 3rd December 1915, as the siege began, the Voluntary Artillery Battery was divided in half for the defence with two of their fifteen-pounder field guns located on the right of the defence line in the old fort outside the town perimeter to the north east of Kut town (Figure 8). The remaining two fifteen-pounder field guns were positioned in a redoubt on the left of the defence line against the Tigris River but in an exposed position. Harry was posted to this

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redoubt on the left flank of the front line under the command of Lieutenant Spence, also of the Voluntary Artillery Battery.

It was the redoubt in which Harry was positioned that saw the first major attack of the siege, which took place on 10th December when the Turks attacked from behind the protection of sand hills to heavily bombard the British front line. At this time the Turks had four infantry divisions, totalling 15,000 rifles, with thirty-eight guns surrounding Kut under their commander Khalil Pasha, and more reinforcements were arriving. On that day, Lieutenant Spence’s contingent of the Voluntary Artillery Battery, operating under rifle fire and machine gun fire from a very exposed position, were able to fire sufficient rounds to inflict damage. However, due to their exposed position and the danger

this represented, the guns were moved away on the night of 12th December to a new location. Although the move was made whilst under fire, and the guns were hit in several places, there were no casualties.

Captain Edward Mousley was assigned the task of moving the guns that night and, in his book The Secrets of a Kuttite, he tells of the problems he had reaching the position under heavy fire. Finally arriving at the location he describes

the subaltern who ‘rushed out and said that we should be shot to the devil in two seconds if we came an inch closer. Two days under continual rifle fire and no

Figure 8. Map of Kut town showing siege elements (adapted from map drawn by Captain Mousley)

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chance of doing anything had not improved his nerves.’ The young subaltern was Harry. He and Captain Mousley were to meet again in the Haida Pasha Hospital in Constantinople thirty-three months later when Harry was feigning madness as part of his escape. Captain Mousley’s description of the ‘mad’ Harry at that time is given in Chapter 10 along with descriptions by other prisoners.

At daybreak the new location for the guns again proved unworkable and the team were exposed throughout the day to the danger of shrapnel, further exacerbated by the non-availability of water due to failure of the water supply chain. A new location was therefore chosen. Gun pits were prepared on the night of 13th/14th December with the guns moved on the night of 15th/16th December. One of the battery was killed by sniper fire on 15th December, the location again being too close to the enemy front.

Once again the new site was found to be unsuitable. Part of the problem was that the old fifteen-pounder field gun, already becoming obsolete, could only fire low profile shells and needed to be able to see the target. The guns were exposed if used close to direct enemy line of fire without sufficient protection.

The guns were moved for the third time, this time to a position nearer the town where they were to remain until 21st December before moving to their final position in an old Arab graveyard in the south east of the town. From here the Battery could handle attacks anticipated from that direction across the Tigris River.

As a member of the Volunteer Artillery Battery originally positioned on the left of the front line, Harry was involved in all these travails. Major Anderson, the commanding officer of the Volunteer Artillery Battery, reports his frustration that the constant need to move the guns was caused by the battery being split in two with each part under command of a different brigade commander (Harry’s section being under the command of Major-General W.B. Delamain, CB, DSO) rather than being under a single unified command.

More severe fighting by those under siege in Kut took place around the old fort to the north east, on the right flank of the front line defending Kut and outside the town perimeter. Major Anderson and two of the Voluntary Artillery Battery fifteen-pounder field guns were heavily involved in this defence of the fort which, after early skirmishes in the period from 7th to 18th December,

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reached a crescendo on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Two thousand Turks were killed in these actions and 382 British and Indians. The Rangoon gunners of the Volunteer Artillery Battery were instrumental in saving the fort.

January 1916 saw the Turkish stranglehold on Kut strengthened and Turkish troops moved downstream to block off all efforts of relief. Thirty thousand Turkish troops and eighty-three guns now confronted the much smaller relief force under Lieutenant-General Sir Fenton Aylmer, VC, who was also operating with a greatly over-stretched supply line. Overwhelming resistance from the Turks coupled with appalling weather conditions in January

made the relief task impossible. Many troops on both sides were killed or wounded. Around Kut the front lines on both sides were flooded when the Tigris River burst its banks leaving men standing knee-deep in water, soaked and suffering from frostbite in the freezing night conditions. The mud was everywhere so thick and deep that horses sank to their withers. Attempting a relief with stretched supply lines, inferior troop numbers and having to contend with such terrible weather for both besieged and relief troops meant that the relief was bound to fail.

By the middle of the first week of February 1916 the water levels had receded sufficiently for

the trenches to start to dry out but this would only be temporary before the snows of the upper Tigris melted. Morning and evening bombardment and constant danger from sniping then became the order of the day. With food starting to run low for those under siege the troops in Kut had started to eat their horses and other animals. This included the horses of the field batteries with the result that the horse drivers were no longer required. A new unit was formed of these men, who were armed as infantry and given the name of the Driver

Figure 9. Arabs in the ruined town of Kut (courtesy of Imperial War Museum)

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Company. Harry was detached from the Volunteer Artillery Battery and assigned to go with them to the fort as subaltern. Major Anderson’s diary reports that the fort was heavily bombarded all that afternoon with the observation post the main target. At that time the Turks also started to use an aircraft to bomb Kut. It was nicknamed ‘Fritz’ by the troops since it was flown by a German pilot.

March and April for the besieged at Kut were full of frustration. Efforts to relieve them, which they could only watch from the rooftops in Kut, were constantly thwarted by the Turkish army which had, by then, established mile upon mile of stacked defences. All the while, the occupants of Kut were subjected to constant barrages of gunfire, sniper fire and bombings from aircraft. Major problems were also being encountered from dwindling food supplies, extensive flooding, as snow and ice melted at the head of the Tigris River, and sickness caused by lack of food, poor drinking water, malarial mosquitoes and war injuries. The field hospital facilities, themselves very primitive, were overloaded.

On 1st March 1916, Kut was subjected to a barrage from every gun in the surrounding Turkish army as well as bombings from three aircraft. Fears were expressed of a coming gas attack. All the while the forces under Lieutenant-General Aylmer pressed to find an advantage but to no avail. Many had been killed or wounded in the various attempts. On 8th March 1916, Aylmer attempted a sweeping movement to outflank the fourteen-mile front of the Turkish army and capture the town of Dujaila from where Kut, just across the Tigris River, could be relieved. The move might have succeeded, but it failed due to poor decision making by British command at critical points. Many more men were killed. Three thousand four hundred and seventy-six of the British and Indian attacking troops were killed or wounded in the attempt to take Dujaila that day on top of the earlier 7,000 casualties. More were killed or wounded on the Turkish side. All that the besieged troops at Kut could do was to stand on the rooftops and watch.

In Kut it was slowly being realised that rescue was becoming a distant prospect. The Turks were receiving reinforcements of some 30,000 men, released from their successes the previous month in Gallipoli, whilst British reinforcements were stuck in Basra, unable to get to the front due to lack of docking facilities at Basra and of river transport. On 12th March 1916, Lieutenant-General Aylmer was replaced by Lieutenant-General Sir George

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Gorringe and Kut withdrew into the continuing siege with the Turks increasing their shelling of the town. On 22nd March 1916 as many as 1,300 shells were fired by the Turks on the inhabitants of Kut with no discrimination between troops and local civilians.

All the while conditions deteriorated. The men slept in flooded trenches and thick mud in freezing conditions and, with severe food shortages, had been slowly reduced to eating their own horses, dogs and other animals. New recipes were devised such as hedgehog cooked in engine oil. Incidents of scurvy, dysentery and beri-beri were on the rise. To combat the scurvy and beri-beri men took to picking grass growing in the flood waters and making it into a form of ‘spinach’. Being unable to differentiate edible from non-edible grasses many

of the British troops were sick and some, including the much liked General Hoghton who had been in the thick of all the fighting and who, being a big, jovial but soft-hearted man, refused to eat his own horse, died from eating the wrong grass. Starvation conditions particularly affected the Indian troops who, for religious reasons, could not eat the horse meat and therefore had to survive on very little. Many were not much more than skin and bones at the end of the siege. The floods also brought insect plagues to add to the lice infestation caused by the increasingly unhygienic conditions. Plagues of mosquitoes, sandflies and other biting insects were prevalent as were the flies, millions and millions of them. There is an old Arab saying that ‘When Allah made hell he

Figure 10. Officers’ hospital at Kut during the siege (courtesy Imperial War Museum)

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did not find it bad enough so he made Mesopotamia; and then he added flies.’ None felt this more than those under siege in Kut.

Between 5th and 10th April 1916, Gorringe attacked the Turkish armies surrounding Kut with his full force but with devastating losses. In appalling conditions, with men sinking in mud up to their armpits and wading through waist-high floodwaters and swamps impregnated by the Turks with miles of barbed wire, the British incurred over 5,000 casualties to add to those they had already lost. The total number of casualties on the British side had now exceeded the number of men they were trying to rescue. In Kut they were down to a ration of four ounces of bread per man. But still the efforts continued. On 15th April, Gorringe attacked and secured some forward positions. He attacked again on 22nd April, this time across a quagmire of oozing mud. Much was sacrificed. In twenty days of fighting the British force lost some 10,000 men to achieve very little. The Black Watch had only forty-eight men left from an original complement of 842, a 94% attrition rate, and other regiments had been similarly destroyed.

There remained very little that could be done and the desperate final fling to buy time to regroup was put into action with the attempt by the twin-screw steamer SS Julnar to run the gauntlet of the Turkish barricades by steaming up the Tigris River from Al’ Amarah to deliver much needed food and supplies to the starving troops at Kut. Attempts had already been made to air-drop supplies, the first such air-drops in history, but these had failed. Even when aircraft were able to take off in the conditions they were not able to carry sufficient supplies – a minimum of 5,000 pounds of food per day were required – and were not able to drop the supplies accurately enough with much ending up in the Tigris or with the Turkish troops. The Julnar was accordingly supplied with iron cladding for protection and left Al’ Amarah for Kut with 270 tons of supplies on the night of 24th April 1916. It was an extremely dangerous mission with a high expectation of failure – hence she was crewed by volunteers under Lieutenant H.O.B. Firman and piloted by Lieutenant-Commander Charles Cowley, an ex-skipper of The Euphrates and Tigris Steam Navigation Company. He was to earn a posthumous Victoria Cross for his efforts.

The Julnar almost made it. After successfully navigating in the dark through the very difficult, sandbank strewn waters of the Tigris, and through a twenty-five mile hail of constant gunfire during which many of her crew were killed, she was finally stopped just short of Kut, on 25th April, by a steel hawser

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slung by the Turks across the river which fouled her propellers. Lieutenant Firman, who was also awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross, and most of the crew, had been killed. Lieutenant-Commander Cowley was captured and subsequently taken into the desert by the Turks and summarily executed.

There was nothing left for the besieged at Kut but to capitulate. On 27th April 1916, negotiations, attended by T.E. Lawrence who was to become famous as Lawrence of Arabia, commenced with Khalil Pasha. On 29th April 1916, capitulation was complete and the troops entered captivity. In all, 13,309

troops and followers went into captivity at the end of a campaign that had seen some 33,000 British and Indian casualties of which 23,000 alone resulted from the efforts to relieve Kut, almost twice the number that they were trying to rescue. The British were not able to avenge this massive humiliation and defeat until they re-captured Kut and captured Baghdad in February 1917.

The Kut survivors, extremely weak after their ordeal with many hospitalised, were promised by Khalil Pasha to be well looked after and treated by the Turks ‘as our most sincere and precious guests’. In the event this, like everything else in

Mesopotamia, turned out to be a mirage. The troops were segregated into officers and non-officer soldiers (the ‘rank and file’). Apart from Major-General Townshend who was treated with considerable luxury for the rest of the war, the officers were taken across Mesopotamia under very arduous conditions to spend their time in prisoner of war camps in Turkey. The non-officer soldiers, however, were shockingly treated, many of them dying on the way to war

Figure 11. Indian sepoy at the end of the siege (courtesy of Imperial War Museum)

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camps or being put to work as forced labour on the incomplete Berlin to Baghdad railway.

The siege of Kut lasted 147 days with the troops largely starved into submission after all food supplies, including almost all of the horses, mules and other animals accompanying the army, had been consumed. At the end of the siege, troops were limited to just four ounces of rice and one pound of meat per day (largely horse meat from the sacrificed animals). The Indian troops, because their religious beliefs prevented them from eating horse meat, suffered greatly, surviving on just ten ounces of atta and half an ounce of ghee per day. All relief attempts by the British had been defeated by the Turks and the appalling winter weather conditions. The besieged at Kut surrendered to the Turkish army that day with men so sick and starved that it would have been impossible to continue. The siege lasted twenty-three days longer than the other famous siege in British military annals, that of Ladysmith in Natal in 1899–1900.

Harry was amongst the officers and troops captured and subsequently marched some 2,000 miles across the desert and mountain wastes of what is now Iraq, Syria and Turkey. In these forced marches across Mesopotamia 1,755 men, approximately 67% of the British rank and file, and 3,063, approximately 29% of the Indian sepoy troops and camp followers, died as the result of cholera, dysentery, thirst, starvation, maltreatment, beatings, exhaustion, attacks from marauding Arab bands and even murder. The march from Kut to captivity became a trail of dead and dying and skeletal remains. A total of 4,818 men died for no reason. It was a military disaster and a catastrophe for the common soldier who suffered the most.

As a second Lieutenant, Harry was marched with the officer group. If he had not been promoted to junior officer rank just before the start of the siege, and had remained a Gunner or a Corporal, he would have been treated as one of the common soldiers and possibly not have survived the harsh existence and terrible travails, beatings and ordeals that the regular soldier had to face. The journey nevertheless was arduous, travelling part way on foot or on donkey or cart and part way on trains crammed with other prisoners. The journey to Yozgad in the remote Anatolian highlands of north eastern Turkey took two months. Harry was to spend the following two years as a prisoner of war there, in a camp located in such wild and desolate country that escape was deemed virtually impossible. He would not see Mair again until he was able to engineer

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his escape and regain England at the end of 1918, more or less at the same time as the war was over.

Harry was thirty-two years old at the time of his capture at Kut.

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5. Capture and the trek across Mesopotamia

At the surrender of Kut, orders were given to destroy anything of value to the Turks. As a result, all big guns were blown up, rifles and radio sets destroyed, wire, cables, pistols, bayonets and ammunition thrown into the Tigris River, documents, code books, rifle butts and trenching tools burnt and harnesses and saddles shredded. Gold coinage was distributed to the officers but none was given to the regular troops. At the end of this destruction all that the regular soldier had left was the ragged and torn uniform in which he had fought for all those days and his wet and dirty blanket. Apart from the gold in their pockets, the officers fared little better. With this they went into captivity and began the long march across Mesopotamia.

Although the Julnar had almost reached Kut before she was stopped by the Turks, and had 270 tons of supplies on board, none of this was immediately offered to the starving garrison at Kut. Instead, the men, many of whom were too exhausted to do much, were given no sustenance at all but were marched, weak and ill in their rags, to Shumran, nine miles up the Tigris. The officers, including Harry, fared slightly better, getting no food but going upriver to Shumran by boat and allowed to take their orderlies and personal effects with them. In those days there was considerable discrimination by rank.

At Shumran they met with a chaotic situation with nothing prepared for their arrival and considerable hostility shown towards them by their guards, contrary to the message that they would be treated ‘as our most sincere and precious guests’. Exhausted and starving they awaited food which eventually arrived in the form of Turkish army biscuits, which were issued to each man. Major E.W.C. Sandes, who was in the group of officers accompanying Harry, described these biscuits in his book In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division as follows:

The Turkish army biscuit is a curiosity in its way. Imagine an enormous slab of rock-like material, brown in colour, about 5 inches in diameter and ¾ inch thick, made of the coarsest flour interspersed with bits of husk and a goodly proportion of earth, and you have a tolerable idea of the staple article of diet on which the Turkish soldier seems to thrive. Everyone received two and a half biscuits, and many of the men, being really starving, commenced to eat theirs at once, breaking off little bits with their teeth and trying

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to imagine they were eating something as good as Spratt’s dog biscuits. Some men had had no food since the morning of the previous day. The more enlightened and less hungry washed their biscuits, pounded them to dust, extracted the superfluous husks and earth as far as possible, and boiled the remaining mixture; the porridge so formed was more digestible but still possessed a disgusting taste of earth, though some fellows seemed not to mind this. There is no doubt that the Turkish biscuit, whatever its ingredients may be, is a nourishing form of food for a cast-iron interior, but does not agree with people weakened by a five-months siege.

Dreadful sickness very soon attacked our men. The troops had been living almost entirely on a diet of meat and for some time, and were in a starving condition; they were now suddenly deprived of all meat and issued with coarse biscuits, full of dirt and as hard as iron. Many, as I have said, were too ravenous to wait while their biscuits were being crushed and boiled, and ate three or four at once. The infallible result was a violent attack of enteritis called by our doctors ‘cholerine’, and resembling cholera in some ways. Stretchers passed along continually to the hospital tents at the lower end of the camp, where dozens of sufferers (more British than Indian) lay groaning in agony in a few hours. Day by day the complaint brought in new victims to the hospital; and before the troops left Shumran one hundred men had been buried, all struck down by this disastrous illness due to food unfit for dogs to eat.

In The Siege, Russell Braddon describes the biscuits and the effect that they had on the British soldier in similar but more graphic terms:

It was only at dusk that some food arrived: a heap of Turkish army biscuits thrown to the ground off the back of a camel. The biscuits were disc-shaped, fibrous and tough as concrete. They looked like glazed, circular dog biscuits and tasted like reinforced dung. At their freshest, they contained too much straw and dirt to be palatable: flavoured with camel sweat, they were most disagreeable.

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But to men already starving, better than nothing. Those with strong teeth began to gnaw and worry at their edges; others took off their boots and attempted to break them into manageable lumps; and the very patient soaked them for hours in water – and were astonished to see how much they swelled and expanded. One way or another, almost everyone ate his biscuit: then went to sleep, either in one of the big black tents, or sprawled on the desert under a high, black sky.

The following morning they began to die. Frothing at the mouth, their bowels and stomachs disintegrating into a greenish slime, dehydrating and moaning, they died one after the other. In a matter of hours they had changed from lean men into leathery skeletons, all eye-sockets and claw fingers and ribs and bared teeth. Enteritis the doctors called it: but enteritis covers a multitude of sins. To some it looked like cholera. To others poisoning. To all of them, terrifying: because biscuits, six to a man, and no indication that more would follow, were almost all there was to eat.

Harry only toyed with his biscuit and therefore survived the terrible effects that the biscuits had on some of his co-prisoners. His biscuit still exists today, hard as concrete, nibbled around the edges and with his fingerprints firmly embedded in it, those of a man who was not going to give it up lightly

but would keep it through thick and thin. He carried the biscuit for the journey across Mesopotamia, gripping it hard.

Tantalised with food that they could not eat, many men gave to bartering the few possessions they had for the luxury of something edible. This was to have serious consequences for the common soldiers, who were treated with terrible brutality

by their Turkish captors during their march to captivity. Exhausted from

Figure 12. Turkish army biscuit issued to Harry at the end of the siege of Kut showing his embedded fingerprints

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starvation, suffering all forms of illnesses, without protection from the baking midday sun or the freezing desert nights, the rank and file were all the time beaten by their guards or often simply discarded to die at the hands of constantly marauding Arab bands.

The majority of the men who assembled at Shumran, including those who were very ill in the hospital at Kut but who were forced to march nevertheless, were to die in the next two months as they staggered and were beaten across 1,000 miles of harsh desert and mountain or toiled afterwards in Turkish hard labour to complete the Berlin-Constantinople-Baghdad railway. Their terrible story has been lost from First World War memories, probably in view of the humiliation of the defeat felt at the time, but is told in diaries kept by individual soldiers and in the book Other Ranks of Kut by Flight-Sergeant P.W. Long. Harry himself wrote a short story based on his own experience on the front line at Kut at the start of the siege in early December 1915 and depicting the full horrors of the subsequent death march. He called it ‘Nerves’. It is given in Chapter 11.

Abandoned by Major-General Townshend, who spent his captivity in luxury with a number of his personal orderlies and servants, the men suffered terribly. Many officers tried to stay with their troops to help them, particularly General Sir Charles Mellis, but to little avail – the Turks ordered the officers to be separated from their men. Although all were to travel the same route to captivity, and all were to suffer on the way, officers and men were to march separately. Compared to the brutality shown to the men the officers were afforded some semblance of respect.

The prisoners moved off in four groups, the first two comprising officers and their orderlies, the third the non-officer soldiers and the fourth those who were too sick to be included in the first three groups, which included General Mellis. On 4th May 1916 the first group, comprised of one hundred British officers, of whom Harry was one, and sixty Indian officers and orderlies, started their journey upriver from Shumran on the Turkish paddle steamer Burhanieh. They were packed like sardines on board with wounded Turkish soldiers, in pain and ill-treated, lying on board a barge lashed alongside. On 6th May they reached Aziziah, having been jeered and gesticulated at by Arab groups as they passed Bghailah and Umm al Tabul on the way (Figure 6).

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They passed the great arch of Ctesiphon on 8th May, the scene of the battle the previous November, and, at 11.00 a.m. the following day, they arrived in Baghdad where they were paraded through the streets. There they stayed in empty Turkish cavalry barracks before leaving Baghdad three days later crowded onto a train to travel to the town of Samarrah, eighty miles to the north. At Samarrah the railway ended and the long desert trek began, 370 miles north westward to Raas-el-Ain, the eastern railhead of the railway to Aleppo.

The rank and file followed the officers from Shumran. Instead of travelling by boat they were forced to march on foot to Baghdad. Many with no footwear, starving, ill and in rags, they left Shumran on 6th May 1916 and arrived in Baghdad eleven days later with men beaten, collapsing from heat stroke and the sick falling off camels and simply left to die en route. This was only the beginning of their tragedy.

The trek to follow across Mesopotamia was to be a tough ordeal for the officers but a terrible ordeal for the common soldier. Although the officers were provided with some mule transport to help on the route when they got to Samarrah, and had some money with which they could buy food, the ordinary soldiers were provided with no transport and were starving. The ration for each man was a double handful of flour, a handful of wheat, a spoonful of ghee and some salt – and that was to last as much as three days. Before leaving Samarrah they were given one goat to feed 400 men. They had to walk or else die but

Figure 13. The Arch of Chosroess, Ctesiphon (courtesy Imperial War Museum)

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many were without boots, which had been stolen by the escort, and marched with strips of blankets wrapped round their feet, feet cut to pieces from the ordeal. The men died a slow death from heat, starvation, blows from rifle butts, Arab marauders and terrible illnesses.

There was little or nothing that the officers could do to help, although many tried. Harry, like others, did his best. Once he had himself completed the arduous march across Mesopotamia two months later, and had reached the prison of war camp in Yozgad, he managed to get coded messages back to Britain asking for help for the men. These were smuggled past Turkish military censors using ingenious codes encrypted into postcards sent to Mair and his father which were decoded and passed to the War Office in London. The coded messages reported that the men were ‘dying like insects on the road’ and help must be got to them (see postcards on pages 121, 123, 128 and 130).

This was the first that the British Government knew of the barbaric treatment of the prisoners from Kut by their Turkish captors and it resulted in enquiries being made by the US and Dutch Embassies in Constantinople. Harry was clearly moved by the terrible ordeals suffered by the troops and his short story ‘Nerves’ (Chapter 11) reveals these feelings as well his experiences as a gunner at Kut.

From Samarrah the route first led north to Mosul. The officer group was ordered to march on 15th May 1916 under escort after being told to discard much of their remaining kit to reduce the weight. They marched on foot with some on donkeys, stopping briefly every hour but walking in a dust cloud, very weak and short of water. The march was at night to avoid the searing daytime heat. After eight hours they stopped for a two-hour sleep before marching on. This was typical of the many days to come. Six hours later they stopped to fill water bottles from the Tigris before immediately moving again. Now it was the searing heat of the midday summer sun. The column was becoming straggled as men weakened and fell back. They reached Takrit (the birthplace of both Saladin and Saddam Hussein) in the full heat of day at noon on 17th May 1916. They had travelled some thirty-five miles from Samarrah, each man riding seven of those miles on donkey and walking the other twenty-eight miles, many with feet cut to pieces due to poor footwear.

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The stop at Takrit was brief. At 6.30 p.m. that evening they set off again after shedding still more kit to reduce the burden and, by 18th May, they reached Kharinina, twelve miles from Takrit. The march on 19th May took them a further twenty-four miles where they stopped, exhausted, at Wadi Khanan. They were now journeying west to avoid a large salt-marsh before heading back east then north again to Mosul. They suffered the terrible midday sun without any adequate protection during the stop and now they were soaked by a sudden storm as they moved off and back towards the Tigris River and water. The night by the Tigris was spent in wet clothes, in freezing conditions and under constant threat of looting by bands of Arab marauders.

At 2.00 a.m., still wet and freezing, they were kicked into action again by their guards and marched nine miles to Shergat, some sixty miles south of their next destination, Mosul. They had covered twenty-six miles since the stop at Wadi Khanan. Marching by night and stopping by day, the prisoners left Shergat at 6.00 p.m. on 22nd May 1916 and reached Mosul at 10.00 a.m. on 25th May. Exhausted, they were housed in barracks, described by Major Sandes in his book In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division with the following words: ‘How any human beings could live for long in this building without an outbreak of foul disease is past comprehension.’ They had covered a total of 170 miles since leaving Samarrah ten days earlier.

At 5.30 p.m. on 27th May they set off from Mosul to march the next leg of their journey, a 200-mile trek across the deserts west to Raas-el-Ain, the

Figure 14. Map showing first part of prisoners’ trek from Kut to Mamourie

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eastern railhead of the unfinished western section of the Berlin-Constantinople-Baghdad railway, from where they could be taken to various prisoner of war camps. Carts were provided for this leg for the officer group but the common soldiers, following days behind, were expected to continue to march without transport – and to die. Even though carts were provided for the officers there was only one for every fifteen men and, with the carts also having to carry accompanying kit, men were only able to ride for one hour in every four, the 200-mile journey therefore requiring each man to walk 150 miles across arid deserts. As much as possible of this was done at night when it was cooler but much was also done in the searing heat of the summer sun. Temperatures reached forty degrees at the peak of the day.

They marched like this for six days across waterless deserts and high tableland until, on 1st June, after four weeks of travelling across some of the most inhospitable country in the world, they reached more fertile country. There they encountered more evidence of the tragedy that had happened to the Armenian population in Turkish Mesopotamia. All along this part of the march they encountered abandoned Armenian villages. Wells from which they attempted to draw water to drink were found to be stuffed with the remains of dead Armenian men, women and children. They marched on.

On 2nd June they passed Aznauar, reaching Nisibin at 9.00 a.m. the next morning, 120 miles from Mosul. There they were able to purchase food and rest overnight before moving on yet again. Many were sick that evening from chuppaties which had been made from bad flour and fermented after eating. But still the column moved on, this time over open plains and bearing more south-westerly towards Raas-el-Ain which they finally reached at 8.15 p.m. on 8th June. They travelled the last section across plains, over ravines, in the heat of the day, freezing at night and soaked by sudden heavy storms. The 200-mile march from Mosul had taken some seventy-six hours of actual marching, an average of just under three miles per marching hour by men who were already exhausted by a 147-day siege and a prior three-week march. Apart from a two-day stop in Mosul the men had marched non-stop for twenty-five days, covering a distance of some 370 miles from Samarrah of which each man had travelled about 250 to 270 miles on foot.

For Harry and the other officers, the worst part of the journey was now over. Whilst the main part of the journey so far had been an arduous march in

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harsh conditions over waterless desert wastes the bulk of the journey ahead of them was to be by rail.

Throughout the march from Mosul, Harry had sustained himself and kept his spirits high by the constant thought of Mair and the family back home. He had now been away from Mair for fifteen months during which period they had only been able to communicate sporadically.

In a letter written later that year to his father from the prisoner of war camp (see page 125), Harry refers to the men dying of hunger at Kut:

I must reserve till we meet my experiences during the siege of Kut, and on our long trek after we were captured. The only thing that kept us going – in my case certainly – was the thought that every step was a yard nearer home. The last month at Kut was a nightmare of starvation and it was pitiful to see strong men dying of hunger. I kept very fit, though weak on my pins.

Raas-el-Ain lies in modern-day Syria approximately half way between Mosul and the next objective, Aleppo, also now in Syria. At 5.00 p.m. on 10th June 1916 the prisoners departed by train from the railhead at Raas-el-Ain, in cramped conditions riding mostly in horse-boxes. Journeying overnight, they crossed the Euphrates and arrived at Aleppo, some 180 miles from Raas-el-Ain, just before midday on 11th June. There they were placed initially in barracks but these were so infested with fleas, lice, and other biting insects that they demanded to be placed elsewhere. They were re-housed in a local hotel but the Indian officers and the orderlies were required to stay with the fleas and lice in the barracks.

It was from Aleppo that they were able to get the first message home that they were alive. It was sent with the help of the US Consulate in Aleppo. Mair had not had word of her husband since before the siege six months earlier and the news that Harry was alive must have been a huge relief.

At 6.30 a.m. on 13th June 1916 the prisoners left again by train from Aleppo bound for Islahie where the uncompleted railway ended at the foot of the Anti-Taurus mountain range. They arrived at Islahie six hours later and camped there until late the following afternoon when they left in a column of carts to cross the Anti-Taurus mountains, negotiating, at night, sheer drops of many hundreds of feet. There were sufficient carts to allow the prisoners to ride every alternate hour but, due to the harsh and dangerous track, many preferred to walk and not ride. They reached the summit at 1.00 a.m. on 15th June and

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pushed on down the northern side to arrive at the village of Hassan Begli two and a half hours later. There they foraged for fruit and rested until moving off again at 5.30 p.m.

They reached the town of Mamourie the following morning, the start of the next section of the partially complete railway, and departed immediately on a train at 9.15 a.m. By 4.30 p.m. that day they had passed Adana and reached the town of Kulek, which lies only around fifteen miles from the Mediterranean. There they disembarked for a second mountain crossing, this time of the Taurus mountains.

On 17th June 1916, in a fleet of lorries organised and driven by Germans and Austrians, the prisoners left Kulek and crossed the mountains. This was the first time that their long journey had been efficiently organised. By 3.00 p.m. they had reached the mountain pass used by Barbarossa, Alexander and the Crusaders, the ‘Cilician Gates’, and by 4.00 p.m. they reached Posanté, some forty-three miles from Kulek.

From here on to both Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul) and Angora (modern-day Ankara) the railway line was complete. In the evening of their arrival in Posanté on 17th June, the officers and their orderlies were put on board a train which left at 9.00 p.m. They journeyed for the next two days, passing through Eregli, Konia and Afion Karahissar8 and arriving at Eskichehr by the night of 19th June. A prisoner of war camp existed at Eregli and it was here that the Hindu officers were separated from the group and ended their journey. At Afion Karahissar there was a prisoner of war camp holding British officers but none of Harry’s prisoner group were separated as they passed through.

At Eskichehr they were housed in local empty houses and hotels, savaged by the usual masses of fleas, lice and other biting insects. They had now covered 400 miles since leaving Posanté.

At 11.30 p.m. on 20th June 1916 they left Eskichehr on the final leg of their train trip, arriving at Angora at 12.30 p.m. the following day. Their journey was almost over. They were to spend four days in Angora, billeted outside the town in a prison block with very little room to move, very little water or food and limited in their freedom to take care of personal hygiene. The second group

8 Afion Karahissar means ‘poppy black rock’ in Turkish, so named because the town was located under a huge black rock in the centre of poppy fields. Opium was plentiful.

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of officers, who had been marching only days behind them, caught up with them at their Angora prison.

Figure 15. Map showing second part of prisoners’ trek from Mamourie to Yozgad

At 1.30 p.m. on 25th June 1916 orders were given for Harry’s group to prepare to move to their final destination, the prisoner of war camp at Yozgad in the Anatolian mountains. The second group was to be sent to Kastamouni. Carts were provided but they were insufficiently large to take everybody so many had to walk. Five days later they finally arrived at their destination, tired but relieved that their long days of marching had finally come to an end. Little did they know that this was to be their home for the next two years.

It was on 25th June, just prior to leaving Angora, that Harry was able to write four lines home to Mair in a postcard passed by the Turkish censor, the first time he had been able to write since the letter he had sent to her from Kut the previous November, just before the start of the siege (see page 117 for the postcard and page 99 for the letter).

Harry was only able to say that he was ‘en route for an unknown destination’. From the postmarks on the card, Mair probably received the card at the beginning of August. He was also able to say that he was in ‘excellent health’, which is remarkable given the length of the siege and the subsequent two-month march across Mesopotamia, but Mair was worried until she finally heard that he was safe and in the Yozgad prisoner of war camp.

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Although Harry had made it across the deserts of Mesopotamia the officers had experienced far less of an ordeal than that with which the ordinary soldier had had to contend. At the time the British Government had no knowledge of what they were going through. They would have been aware that Khalil Pasha had promised that they would be well looked after but, gradually, the information started to come through that they were being subjected to the most sadistic and inhumane treatment.

Harry’s coded messages home were amongst the first to get through. The ordinary soldiers of the rank and file were being treated with extreme brutality. History records the cruelty suffered and it is hard to imagine the punishment that they had to absorb, many unable to do so and dying in great hardship. It is not a passage of British history that is remembered today, largely because the war in Mesopotamia seems so distant from the First World War battles that took place in France, but the war in Mesopotamia saw inhumane cruelty. Fewer than one hundred years later, with modern Turkey so different from the place that it was not so long ago, it is hard to imagine that it ever happened.

Harry’s messages did have an effect but it was not until the war was over and some of the survivors of the ordeal were able to record their experiences that the general public were able to hear first-hand of the brutality. It has to be said that this brutality was not necessarily the result of any particular anti-British sentiment as the Turkish high command also tended to treat their own common soldiers with similar barbarity. Men who had been injured in battle were not given any treatment and often simply died of their wounds. In those days, senior rank meant much whether it was British or Turkish. The German allies of the Turks were much more civilised in their respect for the code regarding prisoners of war and there are many anecdotes of German officers helping the British prisoners of war in Mesopotamia and rescuing them from their Turkish captors.

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6. Yozgad – Early days and coded messages

Harry and his fellow officer prisoners from Kut arrived at Yozgad on 30th June 1916 after a 62-day trek of almost 2,000 miles over some of the most inhospitable desert and mountainous country in the full heat of summer and a 147-day siege. They were clearly exhausted and Harry's comment, in the letter to his father of September 1916 (see page 125), that he was ‘weak on my pins’ on arrival is not only, clearly, a pretty big understatement but is understandable.

Other prisoner of war camps for British, Indian, Australian, New Zealand

and Russian soldiers had been established in Turkey at places such as Changri, Belmedik, Kastamouni and Afion Karahissar but, due to its location, Yozgad was considered to be one of the most escape-proof.

Yozgad is located at a height of over 4,000 feet in the remote highlands of Anatolia in northern Turkey. Its location and the fact that the surrounding country was full of brigands, Arab bands and deserters from the Turkish army meant that it would be extremely dangerous and foolhardy for anyone to try to escape. In Major E.W.C. Sandes’s book Tales of Turkey he quotes an estimate of over 1,000,000 outlaws in the Turkish countryside, made up of deserters and brigands, of whom some 300,000 were in the Anatolian mountains around Yozgad. Even for Turks it was unsafe to travel from town to town without an armed guard. To make escape even less of a temptation the Turkish camp commandants also used to severely punish the entire camp, called ‘strafing’, whenever anybody made an escape attempt. Senior British officers therefore forbad their men to contemplate escape by putting them ‘on parole’.

In The Road to En-dor Harry describes the punishments that the Turks could implement during a ‘strafing’ and explains why the majority of the British officers considered themselves justified in preventing escapes. Any escape plan not only had to be kept secret from the captors but also from the other prisoners. No wonder that no one had tried to escape from Yozgad before Harry and Cedric Hill, his co-escapee. Apart from Harry and Cedric, who had to use

Figure 16. Yozgad taken secretly with a camera made by the prisoners (from Tales of Turkey by

Major E.W.C. Sandes)

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extreme forms of trickery to surmount these obstacles and also try to protect their fellow officers from punishment if they succeeded, only one other group eventually managed to escape from Yozgad, as described in the book 450 Miles to Freedom, which makes Harry’s and Cedric’s escape all the more remarkable.

Major Sandes was also a prisoner at Yozgad. In Tales of Turkey he describes Yozgad as ‘a sunny and busy spot in summer; but in winter it is the very abomination of desolation. This was the place, 150 miles from the Black Sea and twice that distance from the Mediterranean, which the Turks selected as

one of the prisoners’ camps for British officers. They were wise in their selection. The mountains and almost waterless country around was the surest safeguard against escape.’

The camp commandant, Kiazim Bey, a devious, corrupt and untrusting man described in full detail in Major Sandes’s books, was assisted by three junior officers one of whom, the interpreter Moїse Eskenaz Effendi (known by the prisoners as ‘the Pimple’ to reflect his small stature or simply ‘the Pimp’), was to play a leading role. Major Sandes describes him as ‘a stumpy little fellow, with diminutive legs encased in ill-fitting gaiters, and short-sighted eyes peering through pince-nez’… ‘Though his personal appearance was enough to make anyone laugh, he had a great idea

of his prowess with the fair sex.’… ‘The Pimple was the mouthpiece of the Commandant; he transacted all business in the camp, translated all orders and was ever ready to accept a bribe of chocolate.’… ‘Though a vain cockerel by nature, he became a grovelling worm in the presence of the mighty Kiazim.’ These were the attributes of the camp authorities with which Harry and Cedric Hill had to play.

The prisoners were, at first, given very little by way of comfort. Although they were housed in a group of three large empty houses, originally owned by

Figure 17. Bimbashi Kiazim Bey and his staff, with British officers, at Yozgad (from Tales of Turkey by Major E.W.C. Sandes). Moїse Eskenaz Effendi (the

‘Pimple’) is to Kiazim Bey’s left.

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Armenians who had been ethnically cleansed (or ‘sent away’ as the Turks put it), they slept on cold stone floors in the rags which constituted the remains of their uniforms and had to barter for food and other essentials. The houses were named by the prisoners Majors’ House, Hospital House and Upper House. Harry was placed in Upper House.

Conditions were spartan and worse for the men who had just endured a long march across desert and mountain and survived a 147-day siege. Furniture did not exist and the walls, windows and floors were poorly sealed. Men were crammed into the rooms with as little as forty-three square feet of floor space per man in which to live, eat and sleep (an area approximately six feet by seven). For the first three weeks of captivity at Yozgad they were kept close prisoners in these conditions, confined to their houses. In Harry’s postcard dated 26th July 1916 (see page 119) he states that the prisoners were now getting one walk every third day. This was the first opportunity to exercise that the prisoners had had since arriving at the camp on 30th June. The prisoners were also expected to pay their captors for room and board, and at extortionate rates!

They were, however, allowed to write limited messages home. Although these were heavily censored by the Turkish authorities, and many did not arrive, Harry and others nevertheless managed to send encrypted messages contained in postcards which gave those at home some idea of the conditions in which they were being kept and describing the extortion to which they were being subjected. Many of these were very ingenious (see, for example, Harry’s postcards of 3rd August 1916 on page 121 – ‘State unsatisfactory. Demand enquiry’, 7th September 1916 on page 123 concerning the fact they were being forced to pay, 12th October 1916 on page 128 asking for a US enquiry, 26th October 1916 on page 130 – ‘Five of us in a small room with a stone floor and no bed. The men are dying like insects on the road’ – and the postcards described in the North Wales Chronicle newspaper article below).

An immediate major imperative for the men at Yozgad was to get messages home concerning the conditions under which they were imprisoned, the fate which had befallen the rank and file troops and to ask for help. Harry devised a means of sending these messages in the form of short sentences encoded into the weekly postcards that the prisoners were allowed to send home.

The following article appeared in the North Wales Chronicle in 1931:

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An article in the Sunday Express revealed some of the dramas in what, during the war, was known as ‘Room 40’, where the mind of the German Admiralty was read often before they knew it themselves. ‘Room 40’ was the nerve centre of the Admiralty counter-espionage system where enemy secrets were laid bare with the precision of a skilled anatomist dissecting a dead rat.

Only once was ‘Room 40’ completely stumped, stated the writer, and on that occasion it was a message from a British officer in a Turkish prison camp. After the fall of Kut the first message received from the interned British officers came in the form of a blank postcard bearing the post-mark Yozgad, from Lieutenant Harry Jones to his father, the late Sir Henry Jones, Professor of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow. It was addressed, ‘Sir Henry Jones, 184, Kings-road, Tighnabruaich, Scotland.’ Tighnabruaich is a small village with no Kings-road and only a handful of houses.

Sir Henry Jones smelt a mystery and sent the postcard to ‘Room 40’, but they could not offer a clue. Eventually an old Scottish Presbyterian minister hinted at a biblical solution.9 A reference to verse iv., chapter 18th, of the Book of Kings revealed the following:

‘Obadiah took an hundred prophets and hid them by fifty in a cave and fed them on bread and water.’

The decoded message was read as meaning to convey that the Kut officers were safe in Yozgad, but in need of food. This proved to be so as the prompt intervention of a neutral Minister at Constantinople quickly confirmed.

Councillor E.H. Jones, Bangor (the Lieut. Jones referred to in the article, and the author of the well-known book The Road to En-dor) told a North Wales Chronicle reporter that many cryptograms were framed to convey messages home. The captured officers largely availed themselves of the Bible for this purpose as it was the only book available.

‘We were allowed to send home postcards once a week,’ said Mr E.H. Jones. ‘The Turkish authorities supplied these postcards and the messages were carefully scrutinised. After the message on my card had been solved at home an American Commission visited us and inspected the camp. They were only allowed to walk round; no conversations were permitted. We were in rags, but they sent us clothes.’

One of the officers was Major E.W.C. Sandes, M.C., who wrote a book entitled In Kut and Captivity, in which he mentions many cryptograms sent by E.H. Jones. One contained the following, after some preliminary remarks:

‘Darllenwch .... STATE UNSATISFACTORY DEMAND ENQUIRY’10

9 Actually Harry’s wife Mair managed to decode the message before the experts from ‘Room 40’. 10 See original postcard dated 3rd August 1916 on page 121.

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A reply was received later in Yozgad from Mrs. Jones containing the names of a number of articles which, decoded, intimated that the Government was enquiring into their treatment; that England was very strong, and that her enemies were collapsing.

On October 20th 191611 another cryptogram from Lieut. Jones left Yozgad for home, and it duly arrived at its destination. It ran as follows:

‘As I cannot write to all myself I wish you to send Christmas greetings on my behalf to the following five: O.N. Imewn, R.O. Ombach, L. Lawr, C. Arreg, and H.E.B. Gwely. Also, if you know their address to D’Onion Marw, F.E.L. Pryfed, A.R. Fordd. The last I heard of D’Onion, he was very ill and pitifully hard up.’

(I mewn = in, bach = small, llawr = floor, carreg = stone, heb = without, gwely = bed, D’onion = Dynion = men, Marw = dead, Fel = like, Pryfed = insects, Ar ffordd = on the road)

Now all these initials and names form Welsh words and this was the message:

‘Five of us in a small room with a stone floor and no bedsteads. The men are dying like flies on the road. The last I heard of the Men (D’Onion) they were very ill and pitifully hard up.’

Another message was:

‘Love to Mama, to Timothy, to Niné, and all the boys.’

If the reader will take up his Bible and refer to 2 Timothy, 2, 3, he will find a much exaggerated description of our early treatment at Yozgad. We suffered trouble certainly as evil doers might ‘but not unto bonds’.

Councillor E.H. Jones tells an amusing story of what was taken to be a cryptogram but was nothing of the kind. When he returned to this country after the war a well-known Member of Parliament, who was in charge of a prisoners of war department, came to him and said, ‘Thank you so much for the cryptogram you sent; it was of great assistance to us. We were able to discover the movements of Turkish troops in the Caucasus through your message.’

11 Actually 26th October – see original postcard on page 130.

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As a matter of fact the message was addressed to a journalist and Councillor E.H. Jones wished to know the cost of publishing a book and in order to guide the journalist he mentioned that one map would be blue, another green and another red. These colours were taken to indicate the movements of certain Turkish troops!

This book contains many of the original letters and postcards written home by Harry, including two of those mentioned in the North Wales Chronicle article, and unearths many of the messages encrypted or otherwise hidden in the cards. These messages were decrypted at the time by the family, who spent many hours trying to find the codes – if there were any. Clearly Harry could not say, when he was writing, if the card contained an encrypted message or not, and some did whilst others did not, but he tried to place a flag to get their attention when he was saying something different from what was written or to tell people to read carefully.

Harry made extensive use of Welsh words when doing this as Welsh was unlikely to be a language that the Turkish censor would spot. This was hugely successful and many messages were sent in this way. The use of Welsh to send messages which were encrypted would have been very difficult for the Turkish censor to decipher, even if the messages were identified. To some degree this was similar to the use by the Americans of the Navajo Indian language to send encrypted messages in the Second World War. More recently, the Royal Welch Fusiliers are reported to have used Welsh in a similar way to the Navajo ‘code talk’ in operations in Bosnia.

As well as using Welsh, Harry also made use of the Bible, as can be seen from the article in the North Wales Chronicle and in the cards at the end of this book (see, for example, the postcard dated 16th March 1918 on page 177). Since his father, Sir Henry Jones, was one of the leading moral philosophers of the day and also a Welshman with fluent Welsh, use of these devices to convey messages was clearly an advantage.

Sir Henry was also in a privileged position with friends and contacts in high places. He was a friend of the Reverend Montgomery, who was part of the ‘Room 40’ team which deciphered the ‘Zimmerman Telegram’ and brought the United States into the First World War, and was probably the Scottish Presbyterian minister mentioned in the North Wales Chronicle article. Reverend Montgomery certainly worked with Sir Henry to help decipher messages embedded in the letters and cards from Harry.

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Harry was not the only prisoner to send encrypted messages. His friend at Yozgad, Captain Mundey, was seen as their leading cryptologist and there is one example of his given at the end of this book (see the postcard dated 15th March 1918 on page 174), but the messages sent home by Harry were instrumental in getting the authorities to enquire about the treatment of British prisoners by the Turks and also, later on, to convey to his family exactly what he was doing with Ouija boards, séances, spiritualism, telepathy and other forms of deception to try to engineer his release.

Conveying the means of his escape was important because it was essential, in view of the dangers of the subterfuge that he and Cedric Hill were

spinning, that somebody he could trust knew it was all a trick. If the trickery became too ‘real’ who knew what the Turks might do. During the dangerous game that he and Hill were playing from February 1918 they took it to the edge, including faking their own suicide, and he knew that they would be close to being seen as certifiable if he didn’t also have family at home who were ‘in the know’ as far as he could put them there. That they succeeded in hoodwinking not only the

Turkish authorities but also the India Office can be seen from the letter written by his mother to a friend on 3rd November 1918 (see page 197) which she finishes by referring to a letter she has received from the India Office, saying ‘I can’t copy it yet without laughing!’

The postcards and letters in this compendium are not a complete set but include many of those that have been unearthed from archives. In view of the involvement of individuals from Room 40 in helping to decipher the cards it is probable that others will lie in Government archives. Those that have been unearthed would have been deciphered at the time but, in many cases, the

Figure 18. Prisoners of war at Yozgad, 1917

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deciphering has not survived and the hidden messages have had to be rediscovered. Many have been found but some probably remain to be deciphered.

Harry’s messages home largely fall into three groups. The early group, pre-February 1917, focuses mainly on the state of the prisoners at Yozgad but more particularly on the dreadful treatment of the British and Indian common soldiers and asks for enquiries to be made through representatives of neutral countries such as the United States. The second group speaks of life at Yozgad and includes some charming love letters home to Mair. Some include embedded messages giving information on the state of the Turks. The third group, from February 1918 to end March 1918, were written to carry encrypted messages about his escape plans. Some were part of the escape plot itself.

Sir Henry Jones’s high level contacts with the government of David Lloyd George were very influential in passing on the messages about the

treatment of the prisoners. That the messages resulted in improvements for the prisoners of war there is no doubt as the fact is recorded in books of the day such as that written by Major Sandes, as well as by Harry himself.

Figure 19. British Officers at Yozgad (from Tales of Turkey by Major E.W.C. Sandes)

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7. Life at Yozgad

After the early difficulties experienced by the prisoners when they arrived at Yozgad, conditions gradually improved. Throughout the summer and autumn of 1916 the prisoners kept up their complaints and, together with action taken by the British Government through neutral agencies in Turkey following receipt of the encrypted messages sent by Harry and others, this resulted in change. The prisoners also worked hard to improve their lot. As well as feeding themselves in the early stages of captivity, buying food from their captors, the prisoners made their own furniture, repaired the leaks in their rooms and generally instilled a modicum of comfort.

By early 1917 conditions had become more acceptable and a better understanding had developed between captors and prisoners. However, the Turks continued to take advantage where they could. What little got through in the form of parcels from home was often raided by the Turkish authorities and kept for their own use, and bribery (or ‘wangling’ as it was known by the prisoners) was often the way for them to secure small comforts.

During the early period at Yozgad, Harry’s messages home were focused on requesting war news, passing back information on the Turks and asking for things to be sent to him. Mair though, was never far from his mind and his letters also include some beautiful, romantic messages for her. At the end of 1917 it is two and a half years since they have seen each other.

Sometimes she is in pigtails, sitting on the study floor with me... and sometimes she is waiting in the shadow of Tryfan12 for a lad that’s been pedalling twenty miles to meet her, and sometimes she is just the grey wall of a nursing home in Glasgow, but most often she is sitting opposite me across the table, with soft candlelight between, and smiling in her weariness. (Letter dated 22nd November 1917 – see page 150).

We shall yet walk together in the gorgeous red of the Eastern sunset along the ridge in Moulmein and tread the echoing pavements of some hill top monastery in the cool of the evening; we can strike the Buddhist Bell with the deer’s antler and pray there together, hand in hand, while it rings in our Christian ears, that there may be no more strife or war or misery on earth and that we may never be separated again, you and I, best beloved. (Letter dated 15th December 1917 – see page 158).

12 A mountain in Snowdonia, North Wales

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It is known that Harry received war news in messages sent to him from his family at home – including that ‘Father’s trousers fell down’, interpreted by Harry and his fellow prisoners as ‘Dad’s bags had fallen’, i.e. that Baghdad had

been captured by the British in March 1917 – but no record of these has survived other than one message received by Harry from Mair and recorded by Major E.W.C. Sandes (see page 122). He used the information received this way to embellish the messages received from ‘Spooks’ and by means of ‘telepathy’ to weave the cloak of deception even more tightly round the Turks.

Conditions continued to improve for the prisoners throughout 1917 as the Turkish captors began to understand the idiosyncrasies and differences in customs with their British officer captives and became more and more confident that no attempt at escape would be made. Prisoners were able to follow their own pursuits. From simple exercise under armed guard at the start of captivity they developed hockey and football teams. Regular lectures were arranged, with prisoners giving presentations on their civilian activities to fellow officers. Discourses were given on subjects as diverse as artillery, aeroplanes, torpedoes, colour photography, law, tea planting, sailing ships, minting of coins, cow-punching, submarine mining, police work in Burma (given by Harry), sleeping sickness (interesting since it was Mair’s father, Dr Griffith Evans, who was the first to discover the cause of sleeping sickness in horses whilst working on the North West Frontier in India), the geological survey of Egypt and wireless telegraphy. A debating society was formed and theatricals from pantomime to theatre to music hall performed for the pleasure of both the British and their Turkish captors. Harry took the part of ‘Good Fairy’ in the December 1916 pantomime ‘The Fair Maiden of Yozgad’ written by the prisoners (using the camp commandant, Kiazim Bey, Moїse (‘the Pimple’) Eskenaz Effendi and other acolytes of the commandant as models).

The prisoners were even able to form their own Ski Club for the 1917–18 winter. Sufficient snow fell in Yozgad and the Anatolian mountains and, with

Figure 20. Lane at Yozgad taken with an illicit camera (from The Road to En-dor)

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cross-country escape considered impossible by the Turks (although Harry did plan to try – see his letter to Mair dated 25th February 1918 on page 165 where he cryptically advised that he had changed his escape plans), officers were allowed to ski. Dr Griffith Evans, Mair’s father, extracted the following from a note that Harry sent to Mair from Yozgad on 25th January 1917 which she received at their house, Brynkynallt, in Bangor on 14th March 1917. The note is in The National Library of Wales. The original letter has not survived:

There has been a great deal of snow, and the frost is very keen, but the days are sunshiny and we are all well and in good spirits. We have made toboggans and whenever we are allowed out for walks we take them with us and our sentries stand round and watch us ‘mad English’ falling about in snow-drifts for an hour or so. A crowd of townsfolk looks on from a discrete [sic] distance and laughs heartily when mishap arrives. Then we go back to our quarters again when a most tremendous din arises, like a dockyard, for everybody has to repair damages to his sledge. The sledges are all home made out of boxes we managed to purchase and some of them very well.

___________________________________________________

I am well off now in the matter of money and you have no need to feel any anxiety about me anymore. It is only a question of patience and imprisonment, like everything else, teaches us its lessons. One of the things one learns when cooped up with a crowd of other fellows is to keep ones [sic] temper.

A Hunt Club was also formed (courtesy of Harry and Cedric via the ‘Spook’ as described in The Road to En-dor). Life therefore was not that bad in 1917 for the officers at Yozgad. This relative freedom of movement within the environs of Yozgad gave Harry and Cedric the opportunity to plant the clues for the discovery of treasure which formed their ruse to capture the commandant and escape.

Yozgad camp life is described in considerable detail in the two books written by Major E.W.C. Sandes, Tales of Turkey and In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division, and much more can be found in those books than is reproduced here. Amongst many other things, they describe the Turks shooting at the moon as part of a superstitious reaction to an eclipse, the details of relationships between the prisoners and their captives, and the pantomimes, including the verses sung. They also tell of the formation of the camp orchestra (under Major Sandes, who was nicknamed in the camp ‘Don Sandeso, the Bandmaster’). They explain why few escapes were attempted and portray the

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difficulties faced by the prisoners, the petty bribery that took place, the characters of the commandant, the camp interpreter Moїse and the commandant’s other underlings. They also provide corroboration of how the whole camp was completely tricked by Harry’s and Cedric’s performances at the Ouija board and by their escape (see Chapter 10).

It was in Yozgad that Harry met Cedric Waters Hill, the man with whom he was eventually to escape. Cedric was an aviator in the very early days of military aviation. An Australian, he travelled to England in 1915 and joined the recently formed Royal Flying Corps, which later became the Royal Air Force. He first flew at Gosport after obtaining his flying qualifications and his wings in September 1915 and was then sent overseas on active service, first to Alexandria and Heliopolis in Egypt before going on to Kantara on the eastern

side of the Suez canal, 120 miles north east of Cairo.

Cedric’s last flight before capture was on 3rd May 1916. Due to an engine failure he had to make a forced landing in a BE2 (the Blériot Experimental Aircraft designed by Geoffrey de Havilland) at Mount Casius in Turkish-occupied Sinai where he was captured and transported, after much

deprivation, to Yozgad. He arrived in Yozgad on 16th July 1916, two weeks after Harry and the other captives from Kut. Little did either he or Harry know what subterfuges they were to play together and the close bond that was to develop between the two men enabling them to pull off the illusions and deceptions that were to convince their Turkish captors to let them go.

Harry was housed in Upper House and Cedric was in Hospital House. Later, in May 1917 when twenty-eight rank and file arrived at Yozgad to act as orderlies for the officers, a further house was added (School House, also known as ‘Posh Castle’ due to the occasional high jinks when men in the house

Figure 21. Blériot Experimental Aircraft (the BE2) similar to that flown by C.W. Hill (courtesy Imperial War Museum). This image is actually of

an aircraft preparing to drop supplies during the siege of Kut.

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embarked upon a rough and tumble, rather like a cross between a riot and a rugby scrum and christened ‘poshing’).

On 7th March 1918, as Harry and Cedric commenced the preparations for their escape, Colonel’s House, adjacent to Posh Castle, was opened for

their solitary confinement to keep them away from the other prisoners. The move to Colonel’s House was manipulated by Harry and Cedric through their device of the ‘Spook’ and was another step on their way to freedom.

Figure 22. Upper House in Yozgad where Harry was housed (from In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division by Major E.W.C. Sandes)

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8. Escape plans

It was in February 1917 that Harry received a postcard from his aunt, the wife of Professor Walker, the Professor of English at Lampeter, suggesting the use of Ouija boards and experimentation with spiritualism to pass the time away. That letter was to provide the basis for Harry’s escape from Yozgad prison, an escape which began with innocent fun and experimentation but which took the path of a tortuous and dangerous game of bluff with his Turkish captors and ended with terrible hardship in a lunatic asylum in Constantinople and a narrow escape from death when he and Cedric feigned their own hanging.

Harry first started using the Ouija board as a diversion from the boredom of being a prisoner. His first, totally innocent, ‘co-medium’ was Captain (‘Doc’) W.R. O’Farrell. Doc O’Farrell was someone to whom he felt a special debt of gratitude. As Harry’s escape plan became more and more sophisticated he confided his plans to O’Farrell who protected him and Cedric as the plan unfolded. He was the ‘outside’ help that enabled the plan to succeed, acting as the foil to give credence to many of the ‘Spook’s’ utterances and providing confidences that they could use. He was hugely influential in coaching Harry and Cedric on how to feign madness – so thorough was this training that the later deception of expert psychiatric doctors in Constantinople was complete. He did all this with total selflessness. Harry dedicated The Road to En-dor to him.

With Doc O’Farrell as his unwitting ‘co-psychic’, Harry found that his own legal training and natural skills enabled him to rapidly interpret and memorise different situations presented to him and to outmanoeuvre those who tried to prove his ‘psychic ability’ was all a trick. Slowly he was able to turn doubters into believers. What had started as a prank was becoming serious but it was only when the camp interpreter, Moїse (‘The Pimple’) Eskenaz, started to show an interest three months later, in May 1917, that Harry started to realise the potential. Over the next few months he gradually ensnared Moїse and started to trap the camp commandant. To play the final game, though, he needed someone, a co-partner, who had skills complementary to his own.

As a very proficient amateur magician, Cedric fitted that role perfectly and, in February 1918, the two of them embarked on the escape plan during which they were to ‘communicate’ with ‘Spooks’, deceive and ensnare the camp commandant and his entourage and help him discover buried ‘treasure’,

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devise means of telepathy for long distance communication, feign lunacy, fake attempted suicide and set up a complex system of ‘smoke’, mirrors and mirage that completely hoodwinked not only the camp commandant and Turkish medical authorities but also their own people and led to their escape.

Harry’s coded messages home changed at the same time that he and Cedric began their planned escape in earnest. The hidden encrypted messages now give clues as to their intentions and what was planned. Some are intertwined with the escape plan itself and are described in The Road to En-dor. Many of these cards and letters are included in this book. They stop on 30th March 1918 when the ‘Spook’ commanded that no further letters home should be allowed. This was all part of the subterfuge, but it is not believed that any letters were sent after that date.

Harry decided to write the escape story, and published it as The Road to En-dor. In his preamble to the book he explains that his reasons were more than simply to relate the story – he also wanted to show how it was so ‘easy’ to hoodwink people into believing things that they would otherwise believe to be impossible, especially those who were vulnerable. After the First World War many of those left widowed or without sons, brothers or fiancés were easy prey to unscrupulous travelling ‘psychic mediums’ and it became a scandal at the time. Harry hoped that, by publishing his story, he would help prevent this mass exploitation of a very vulnerable group. In his own words:

If this book saves one widow from lightly trusting the exponents of a creed that is crass and vulgar and in truth nothing better than a confused materialism, or one bereaved mother from preferring the unwholesome excitement of the séance and the trivial babble of a hired trickster to the healing power of moral and religious reflexion [sic] on the truths that give to human life its stability and worth – then the miseries and sufferings through which we passed in our struggle for freedom will indeed have had a most ample reward.

The Road to En-dor relates the full story, but much can be read in the messages sent home. It is not known how many of the postcards and letters that Harry wrote managed to pass the Turkish censor but it is likely that a number that he sent failed to arrive. Many contained encrypted messages telling his parents as much as he could about his escape plans. The messages from Yozgad and their decodings are in Chapter 13. Harry also received coded postcards sent from his family back home. These contained war news which he was able to

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describe as having received by telepathy from ‘outside’ – thereby further confounding the Turks into believing their extrasensory powers.

Harry and Cedric kept secret diaries of the séances they conducted. These have survived. They describe the encounters with ‘Spooks’ as they searched for ‘treasure’ and the manifestations of disembodied ghosts and spirits that they ‘witnessed’. They were written by hand in minute writing which requires a magnifying glass to read but were done in this way to avoid discovery. An example of one page is given in The Road to En-dor.

The escape plans, which included capturing the camp commandant and Moїse Eskenaz, changed and evolved several times when they were thrown off course and only saw success just before the armistice in November 1918. Recognising the peril of sticking to one plan, Harry and Cedric had several backup escape plans, working all of them in parallel. All prey on the greed of the Turks and the ‘mirage’ of the buried treasure. For one of these Harry also wove in the use of the postcards.

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9. Freedom

Harry and Cedric gained their freedom from captivity in October 1918 when placed on two separate exchange ships leaving Smyrna in Turkey bound for Alexandria in Egypt. Their ‘recovery’ from madness as soon as they boarded the British ships was immediate and astonished all who witnessed it. They journeyed separately to Alexandria where the two men met again just after the signing of the armistice on 11th November. From there they travelled by boat

from Port Said to Taranto in Italy and thence by troop train back to England.

They arrived back in England on 8th December 1918. Harry’s first thoughts were to meet his beloved Mair, whom he had not seen for three and a half long years. He was exhausted, ill and underweight from his ordeals when he reached home and was given extended sick leave. It was during this time that he wrote The Road to En-dor in the summerhouse at Noddfa, his father’s Scottish home in Tighnabruaich.

Harry and Cedric remained close friends for the rest of their lives but went their own ways when fully recovered, Harry back to the Colonial Service in Burma

in May 1920 after a short spell on the staff of Lord Curzon, the Foreign Secretary at the time, and Cedric to a long and distinguished career in the Royal Air Force.

Mair returned to Burma with Harry on the SS Lancashire, taking her new-born daughter but leaving their two elder children, now aged five and four, behind – Burma was not healthy for older children. By March 1921, Mair was

Figure 23. Cedric and Harry on board SS Herefordshire in 1922

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again heavily pregnant and was on the boat to return to Britain. She and Harry were back to writing letters again.

At the beginning of 1922 Harry came home on leave. With the growing family he realised that he had to find a family house and plan his eventual return. He found a house in North Wales where Mair could enjoy the support of her parents whilst he was away. On 29th April 1922, the anniversary of the fall of Kut, and of the dual hanging at Mardeen,13 and one day after moving in to their new home, Harry had to go back to Burma, alone. They agreed Mair would play their favourite tunes on their new upright piano. When she had played them once he would kiss her goodbye and go, and while he went she would play them again. In that way they dealt with the pain of parting.

The responsibilities of his growing family dictated Harry’s future and he decided to retire early and return home. He was forty years old. Forty-five was the normal retirement age in Burma then. He arrived back in the autumn of 1924. Their fifth and final child was born in the summer of 1925.

Harry was too much of a public servant to retire at forty. He became a town councillor, and served on the Court and the Council of the University of Wales, and on various committees. He also served Coleg Harlech, was organiser for North Wales of the League of Nations Union and became editor of Welsh Outlook. He was not used to sitting at home, and never did. And Mair never expected that of him. There was never a hint of criticism or complaint from her that, when he did have a few hours, he should spend them at the golf club, or fishing, or rough shooting, with his sons or his men friends. She was used to entertaining herself, and read widely among Victoriana and biographies and autobiographies and letters. And she was no longer lonely, as in Burma, but had friends among her contemporaries in her home town of Bangor.

Harry was Mair’s rock, she always said. Harry, in his turn, loved Mair. He wrote from one of his fishing trips in Scotland:

…my dearest dear, I have not yet come to the end of discovering what your love means to me, and I have never deserved this supreme gift of God... year after year, through those twenty five years, I have had to say over & over again to myself ‘Gosh! what I used to think was love, was only a shadow of it – THIS is the real thing’ and it has been growing & growing, ripening, deepening, unfolding in countless ways & it is going on doing that…

13 Mardeen, otherwise Denck Ma’arden, is believed to be the town of Danek Madeni, or Marden, now the modern town of Keskin, located south east of Ankara.

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On 29th April 1933 – again the anniversary of the end of the siege at Kut and the hanging with Cedric at Mardeen two years later – Harry applied successfully for the post of Registrar at the University College of North Wales.

The demands of the position meant he had to resign from one post after another on his voluntary list. But his style of working until he was exhausted remained the same. He was not at all attracted to university social life, and continued in his spare time to retreat to the wild and lonely countryside with a gun or rod. This was what Mair expected.

The start of the Second World War meant extra work. The university was disrupted; evacuees from London University came; staff left; four children were evacuated into their family home. Harry had to plan for a new hostel in Ffriddoedd called Reichel, in conditions of wartime shortages. He became more and more overtired and exhausted from overwork.

In 1940, when he was fifty-seven years old, the blow struck which was to bring about a rapid decline in Harry’s health. His and Mair’s fourth child, Arthur, was killed in a plane crash in the RAF. Harry and Mair were devastated and it was the beginning of the irregular but inexorable disintegration which ultimately destroyed Harry. In 1908 Harry’s father, Sir Henry Jones, wrote to him, ‘Don’t overdo it. Keep your pith for the final lap, which you may be running with many eyes upon you.’

In this final lap there were not many eyes upon him. Old friends visited, but they were busy, working men, and the visits fell away. There was one visit from Cedric, his old friend from Turkish days, who came from London. Harry was ill and his speech was slurred. Hill didn’t say much. Impassive, he stayed about five hours. They sat together on a garden seat at Harry’s home, throwing pebbles at a cocoa tin. Ghosts of their exploits a quarter of a century earlier visited them.

Mair was never far away. She made sure that he was warm and fed. The rock he had been was crumbling; she was now the supportive one. Occasionally Harry would wander, go to the bank and draw out money and give pound notes to whomever he met. This was a strange echo of the ‘mad symptom’ he had enacted on the mad journey to Constantinople nearly twenty-five years before.

In May 1942, Harry and Mair said goodbye again. They agreed it was the last goodbye; she was not to visit him in his final disintegration; to do so would

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open up an unhealed wound. That decision was of a pattern with sad partings that had gone before; it was their style. He would go and she would not run after him the last few yards; she would do whatever it was that needed doing, or play their favourite tunes.

Mair wrote on 27th May, ‘I have slept and slept this last week… I can’t feel that I shall ever get HIM back, my own husband, except by a miracle or death.’ She kept to her decision not to visit, and always felt that was right. She could read his letters again, and stay closer to the man who loved her, as when he wrote to her from Kawkareik:

For the last few days you have haunted me waking & sleeping – not only in the quiet of the evening; there is nothing unusual in that; but night and morning in my leisure and my work, in everything I say & do or write or think, you are there. I can almost SEE you at times, you seem so close… I love you more & more & more – I don’t KNOW how much – & I’ll live for you & die for you without ever finding out.

Harry contracted pneumonia and died in hospital on 22nd December 1942 aged fifty-nine. His friend Cedric Hill stayed on in the RAF until he retired in 1944. Just before his death in March 1975, at the age of eighty-three, he wrote his own memories of the escape from Yozgad, published as The Spook and the Commandant.

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10. Stories from fellow prisoners

Harry’s remarkable story was witnessed by many other prisoners of war in Turkey at the time. Three are repeated here as they show the complete belief that other perfectly intelligent people had in the subterfuge that Harry and Cedric spun and demonstrates with what consummate acting skills they managed to pull off such a fantastic hoax on both their fellow prisoners and the Turkish army and doctors.

The first is from Tales of Turkey by Major E.W.C. Sandes, a co-prisoner in Yozgad, and talks about the days in early 1917 when Harry was beginning to convince the doubters amongst his fellow prisoners that he could communicate with the departed:

I decided one evening to attend one of the early séances which Jones himself conducted before he joined forces with Hill. Up to that time, I must confess, I doubted the genuine nature of the messages, though the number of true believers in our house was rapidly increasing. It was about nine o’clock on a dark night that I stumbled up the unlit staircase to the little passage-room where Jones and his friend ‘the Doc’ sat before the polished iron plate with their hands on the inverted glass. A couple of guttering candles cast a ghostly light on the intent faces of the two operators and the small group of earnest seekers after knowledge who had forestalled me.

‘Hullo! Here’s “Don Sandeso, the Bandmaster”,’ said Winnie, ‘Can he work the glass?’

‘Speak to the board,’ reproved Jones.

‘Right oh! Bones.’ Then, addressing the polished plate, ‘Please tell us if Sandes can work the glass.’

The glass shot rapidly from side to side, touching this letter and that, while Alec Matthews took down the message, and the hands of the ‘mediums’ seemed merely to follow the spasmodic motion of the glass – which indeed was all that the hand of the Doc actually did.

‘Yes, he can,’ spelt the Spook’s message.

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‘Thank you. And who with?’ asked Winnie,

‘Alone,’ was the answer.

‘Surely not!’ protested someone. ‘It takes two to work the glass.’

‘Curse you!’ returned the Spook. ‘By himself, I tell you,’ the glass moving with a vicious smack from side to side.

‘Would you like to try it by yourself?’ said Jones, turning to me.

‘Very well,’ I replied, and sat down.

I put two fingers on the glass, closed my eyes, and waited in silence for the oracle to speak. Then, as nothing happened, I asked the Spook if he would kindly send a message. Slowly, slowly, the glass began to slide; then more and more rapidly. It shot from side to side of the polished surface, spelling out a meaningless jumble of letters. I opened my eyes suddenly to see who was pulling it hither and thither, but no one was touching either the glass or the table. Yet I could have sworn that someone else had hold of that glass. Then the movement changed from zigzags to circles, and finally the glass came to rest in the centre and remained so.

‘That seems to be all,’ I said. ‘What’s the message?’

‘Can’t make head or tail of it,’ answered Alec.

Nor was there any head or tail to it. But that experience changed me from a sceptic to a believer, and in this I showed the usual lack of perspicuity of enquirers into the supernatural. The glass certainly moved, apart from my will though possibly through my agency; but that well-known phenomenon of independent motion did not prove that a supernatural being was controlling the movement. Yet, given the right environment, the human mind is prone to jump to such conclusions, and one more true believer was added to the fold that night. The speed with which the glass spelt out the messages when Jones was one of the mediums, the cleverness of the replies, and the fact that the twenty-six letters

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were not arranged in alphabetical order, convinced me that no man, working with his eyes closed, could become so expert as to manipulate the glass as Jones did; and the phenomenon of the independent movement of the glass, when I was operating alone, completed my conversion. When British officers, with an average share of common sense, could be deceived wholesale, is it surprising that the Turks, raised in an atmosphere of superstition, prophecy, and omens, fell easy victims to the wiles of the Spook?

The second anecdote written at the time comes from Eastern Nights – and Flights by ‘Contact’ (Alan Bott) published in 1920. Alan Bott was an inmate at the Turkish prisoner of war camp at Afion Karahissar. He was to come across Harry and Cedric in Gumuch Souyou hospital in Pera, Constantinople and shared their ward as a ‘co-patient’. His description follows:

A tousled scarecrow of a man was sitting up in a hitherto empty bed as we entered the prisoners’ ward of the hospital.14 His long untrimmed hair hung over an unwashed neck, his cheeks were sunken, his hands were clasped over the bedclothes that covered his shins. He never looked at us, but with an expression of the most unswerving austerity continued to read a book that lay open on his knees. As I passed I saw, from the ruling and paragraphing of the pages, that it must be a copy of the Bible.

I looked round for enlightenment, only to find myself facing an even stranger figure.15 In a bed opposite the scarecrow sat a man whose face was unnaturally white. The young forehead was divided and subdivided by deep wrinkles; a golden beard tufted from the chin; the head was covered by a too-large fez, made of white linen. He grinned and waved an arm towards the Turkish orderly; but when we looked at him he shrank back in apparent affright, then hid under the bedclothes.

‘English officers,’ said the orderly. ‘Come from Haidar Pasha Hospital. Both mad.’

‘I am not English,’ protested in Turkish the strange, befezed head as it shot from under the bedclothes. ‘I am a good Turk. The

14 Cedric Hill. 15 Harry Jones.

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English are my enemies. I wrote to His Excellency, Enver Pasha, telling him I wished to become a Turkish officer.’

‘Mulazim Heel,’ continued the Turk, pointing towards the scarecrow. Then, as he swung his hand in the direction of the man who had written to Enver Pasha, ‘Mulazim Jaw-nēss.’

‘My name is not Jones,’ the Fantastick shouted, still speaking in Turkish. ‘I am Ahmed Hamdi Effendi.’

Yet he was indeed Jones, just as much as the scarecrow opposite him was Hill. We had heard stories of their extravagant doings, but this was our first sight of the famous lunatics whose reputation had spread through every prison camp in Turkey. The Turks believed them to be mad; and although there were sceptics, so did many of the British prisoners. When, after watching the pair for several hours, we went into the garden that evening and discussed them, we agreed that they were either real madmen or brilliant actors.

It had all begun months earlier at Yózgad. To pass the weary time, Jones and Hill dabbled in and experimented with hypnotism and telepathy. By making ingenuity and the conjurer’s artifice (at which Hill was an expert) adjuncts of their séances, they nonplussed fellow-prisoners and Turks alike; for it was impossible to tell whether trickery or something inexplicable was the basis of their astonishing demonstrations. By means of the Spirit of Music (a hidden lamp with the wick turned too high), the Buried Treasure Guarded by Arms (some coins and an old pistol that were first placed in position and then ‘revealed’ by digging), the Miraculous Photographs (taken with a secret camera designed and constructed by themselves), and other devices, they reduced the camp com-mandant and his staff to a state of bewildered fear. When they had hoodwinked the commandant into the belief that they could exchange mind-messages with local civilians, he confined them in a small room, and allowed no communication with other prisoners.

From this time onward, moreover, Jones and Hill showed dread of their fellow-prisoners. The British officers at Yózgad wanted to destroy them, they informed the Turkish commandant,

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adding a plea for protection. Meanwhile their hair and beards grew longer and more untrimmed, their general appearance stranger and wilder. Perhaps their most impressive exploit at Yózgad16 was when a guard found them hanging side by side on ropes that were suspended from a beam, the chairs that supported their weight having been kicked away just before he entered the room. He cut down the dangling bodies; and his tale confirmed the commandant in the belief that the spiritualistic prisoners were altogether insane.

A few days later they went under escort to Constantinople, and were admitted to Haidar Pasha Hospital. From this hospital their reputation spread all over Constantinople. Long before they were transferred to Gumuch Souyou I had heard how Hill read the Bible all day, and uttered never a word except when he prayed aloud; and how Jones, having in two months learned to talk Turkish perfectly, proclaimed himself a Turk, and would speak no other language. His name, he insisted time and again, was Ahmed Hamdi Effendi. He disregarded all Britishers in Haidar Pasha Hospital, unless it were to tell the Turkish doctor that Hill was mad, and therefore, as the afflicted of Allah, more to be pitied than blamed.

Once he threw himself into the pond in the garden. Once, having received the usual Red Cross monthly remittance from an official of the Dutch Legation, he tore the bank-notes in two, threw the scraps of paper across the room, and declared that he wanted no English money. During an air-raid over Constantinople he ran into the open and demanded a gun, so that he might shoot down the British aeroplanes.17

At about sundown on his first evening with us Hill closed the Bible, stepped out of bed, and knelt down, facing the east. Then, without a pause, he recited prayers in a loud voice for twenty minutes. Several Turks came in to listen; while Jones, tapping his befezed head, explained to them that the kneeling figure was mad.

16 Actually it was at Mardeen or Denck Ma’aden (now Keskin) some sixty miles from Yozgad. 17 At this point, in the edition of the book from which this extract was taken, Harry has written in manuscript ‘I threw stones at them.’

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Each morning and each evening Hill knelt on the floor and prayed aloud. Sometimes, during the night, he would walk to another bedside, wake up its occupant, and exhort him to prayer. For the rest he spoke never a word other than ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ or ‘I don’t know,’ in answer to questions. All day he sat in bed, with eyes riveted on the Bible by unswerving concentration, or clasped his head and appeared lost in meditation. When the doctor examined him he paid not the slightest attention; but when an effort was made to take away the Bible, he clutched it desperately, and was evidently ready to use violence. His hair and beard grew longer and more tousled, until he was forcibly shaved; whereupon, with his hollowed cheeks and sunken, glowing eyes, he looked more of a scarecrow than ever.

Jones kept himself quite dapper in his own peculiar fashion. His curly golden beard and moustache seemed to be his especial pride. At first Ms. attempted conversation with him; but as he always turned away and showed fright, we left him alone. Yet twice he sought out the chief doctor, and complained that the British officers wanted to murder him. Being a Turk, he continued, why was he kept in a room with Englishmen, who were his enemies and wanted to hurt him?

Beyond laughing and remarking how sad it was that our comrade should be so mad, the chief doctor took no notice. Thereupon Ahmed Hamdi Jones sat down and wrote a letter of furious complaint to His Excellency Enver Pasha, Minister of War in the Young Turk government, and incidentally the most ruthless desperado in that all-desperado body the Committee of Union and Progress.

I still remember every detail and movement of an absurd scene. Ms. lay asleep one hot afternoon, with a bare foot protruding through the bars at the bottom of the bed. R. crawled across the floor, intending to crouch beneath Ms.’s bedstead and tickle the sole of his foot with a feather. Jones, whose bed was next to that of Ms., shrank back and made a tentative move towards the door as R. glided nearer. R. looked up casually from his all-fours position and found the lunatic face glaring at him with wide-open, rolling eyes.

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The pair stared at each other surprisedly for a few seconds; then Ahmed Hamdi Jones yelled, leaped from his bed, and ran out of the room.

If that were acting, we agreed, it was very wonderful acting. We inclined to the theory that Hill and Jones had in the beginning merely shammed lunacy as a passport for England, but that under the mental stress and nervous strain of living their abnormal role had really become insane. Another suggestion was that they had lost their reason already at Yózgad, as a result of dabbling overmuch in spiritualism.

It was White who solved the mystery, although at the time he revealed it only to me. With a badly-marked ankle, the result of a too-hot poultice, well in evidence, he arrived one day from Afion-Kara-Hissar, and suggested to the doctors that the ankle was tubercular. He was placed in the bed next to the scarecrow’s.

Hill had let it be known that he was undertaking a forty days’ penance, during which he would eat nothing but bread. All other food offered him by the Turks he ignored. After a few days of semi-starvation his cheek-bones were more prominent than ever, his cheeks more hollowed, and the colour of his face was an unhealthy faint yellow.

In the middle of the night, when everybody else was asleep, White awoke him and passed over a note. In this, as a fellow-Australian, he offered any sort of assistance that might be acceptable. Then he handed Hill some chocolate and biscuits, taken from a newly-arrived parcel. These the scarecrow accepted. Not daring to whisper in case somebody were listening, he wrote a sanely-worded message, thanking White for the offer, which he accepted. It contained, also, a warning that, for safety’s sake, the other Britishers must be led to believe that both he and Jones were mad.

Thereafter White fed him secretly each night. In the daytime he maintained his long fast, to the great astonishment of the Turks. White likewise helped by complaining that the madman woke him at night-time and asked him to pray.

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Later, having heard escape-talk between White and me, Hill wrote down an address where we might hide in Constantinople, and let me into the secret that he was pretending lunacy so as to be sent out of the country as a madman.

Now that I knew the scarecrow and Ahmed Hamdi Jones to be sane as myself, I marvelled at their flawless presentation of different aspects of lunacy, and at the determination which allowed them to play their strange parts for months. Hill, in particular, had a difficult rôle, and I wondered that his mind never gave way under it. To sit up in bed for twelve hours a day, reading and re-reading a Bible; to talk to nobody and look at nobody, and to show no sign of interest when vital subjects were being discussed by fellow-prisoners a few yards away; to pray aloud for nearly half an hour each morning and evening, in the presence of a dozen people; to maintain an expression of rigid melancholy, and not to let even the ghost of a smile touch one’s features for many weeks – all this must require almost inhuman concentration.

Jones had a far better time, for his specialty was not studied tragedy but spontaneous farce. He seemed to enjoy enormously the complete fooling of all around him, the planning of a new fantasy and the head-over-heels performance of it, without the restraint of convention or ridicule, or a sense of the normal.

Cheerful lunacy, in fact, is great fun.18 Even in my own minor assumptions of a state of unreason I had found it very stimulating and amusing. A mental holiday from logic, custom, the consideration of public opinion and other irksome boundaries of artificial stability, is glorious. Itself untrammelled, the mind can watch from a spectator’s point of view the patchwork restraints and littlenesses of civilisation, and take delight in tilting at them.

Often I envied Jones, with his fez, his golden beard, and his role of Ahmed Hamdi Effendi, as he talked to a group of Turkish officers. They would laugh at him openly; but secretly he would laugh much more heartily at them.

18 At this point, in the edition of the book from which this extract was taken, Harry has written in his hand ‘Is it? It’s Hell!’

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Few things in our roomful of nine British officers were not farcical. Only one of us – old W. with his wounded arm – had any real claim to be in hospital. R., with a healed wound-scar dating back to the Gallipoli campaign, C., with sciatica and late middle-age, and Ms., with a weak knee dating back to before the war, were trying to build up a case for release as exchanged prisoners of war. Jones and Hill, by means of magnificent acting, had made everybody believe in their assumed madness, and were also hoping to be sent home in consequence. ‘Wormy’ – formerly aide-de-camp to General Townsend [sic] – wanted to remain a hospital patient because he had friends and amusements in Constantinople, and achieved this wish by means of mythical hæmorrhages.

For my part, I still gave false evidence of nervous disorders, although such efforts were dwarfed by the exploits of Jones and Hill. In any case, it was to my interest to show only mild symptoms; such as fits of trembling during an air-raid, or whenever a gun was fired. Had I been more violent, I should not have been allowed into the city on Sundays, at a time when I had made useful acquaintances and was plotting an escape.

So the strange days passed. Hill and Jones, spurred by reports of a near-future exchange of prisoners, gave constant and enlivening performances. Ms. and R. cultivated effective limps. ‘Wormy’ amused himself. White and I discussed our plans while strolling in the garden. Each morning the doctor walked once round the ward, said to each patient, ‘Bonjour, ça va bien?’ signed the diet sheets, and left us. Of other medical attendance there was none, except when W.’s arm was operated on, or when Jones com-plained to the chief doctor about our desire to murder him.

How the madmen were included in the first batch of British prisoners to be exchanged from Turkey, how they were led on board the Red Cross ship that the Turks had allowed into the Gulf of Smyrna, how Ahmed Hamdi Jones protested against being handed over to his enemies the British, and how he and the Bible-reader miraculously recovered their sanity as soon as the British vessel had left Turkish waters – all that is a story in itself.

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The final anecdote was written by Captain Edward Mousley. Having helped to rescue Harry’s gun battery in the opening days of the siege of Kut he now found himself in Haida Pasha at the same time as Harry when Harry and Cedric were feigning their madness. From his book The Secrets of a Kuttite:

The whole hospital talked of one, Jones, an officer of the Volunteer battery whose guns I had brought back from the front line in Kut, at night, on a momentous occasion. I had heard that he had pretended he was mad so enthusiastically, that he had gone mad in fact. He was now here hating Englishmen hard, and in fact it was dangerous for him to meet them. Most of the Turks said he was mad. I woke after a troubled sleep to the startling announcement by a Turk, from an adjoining bed, that during my sleep Jones had been standing over me silently for a long time. The repetition of this got on my nerves. He wouldn’t sleep in the same room with an Englishman, so I moved to a large ward, where I was quite alone.

In the middle of the night I saw a ghoulish figure, wearing a large black mantle and with stark, staring eyes, stalking me from bed to bed. With all the uncanny anticipation of one’s every movement that usually happens only in a nightmare he divined my every move, for I also tried to get to the door. Then I started to speak German. At this an attendant came for him. I breathed freely as he left. I thought what a pity it was after all my experiences to meet my end from a mad fellow-prisoner. After this he fled on seeing me, although I kept up the German identity. Then I got a note written to me from him, a veritable mad document assuring me he hated the English and that he feared I was going to kill him. This arrived just after I had met him in daylight. He wore a black overall, a yard of which he had picked into threads, which his busy fingers did incessantly. His hair was long, he wore a beard, and his white, sunken cheeks gave him a ghastly appearance.

I had wished him a polite ‘Good evening’ in Turkish, and then the note had arrived. I replied to it in German, and he replied again that he didn’t know German, and if I didn’t promise not to kill him he would kill himself. We met alone, and, in an extraordinary way, with some postas looking on, I discovered Jones to be quite sane.

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It is a wonderful story. I refer only casually to it here. From this moment we acted consistently when together, he pretending he hated all of us except me, and at periods even me, if postas were difficult. He had had a most lonely time for months. The strain had been awful.

Captain Mousley goes on:

Jones continued to make himself so troublesome through the whole hospital, knocking people into wells and doing and undoing jobs, that they allowed us together on the plea that we were to concoct a defence.19 Jones had already purposely written about twenty volumes of rubbish on this. He was a daring actor but not quite finished, and more than once I thought he just overdid it before the commandant. Once alone over our law books, with a huge kettle of tea and some food from parcels that now were arriving, we talked of our plans and of his great loneliness for months.

These anecdotes tell of the great strain that both Harry and Cedric went through to keep their subterfuge up for so long. Captain Mousley went on to accompany Harry to Smyrna, and it was when Harry boarded the exchange ship and Captain Mousley boarded HMS Monitor 29 that they said farewell to each other and Harry could finally relax and look forward to his freedom.

19 Harry had spun the yarn that he was worried he would face a court-martial at home.

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11. Nerves

When Harry was a prisoner in Yozgad he wrote a short story based on events he experienced at Kut and on the terrible death march across Mesopotamia endured by the British and Indian common soldiers. The story vividly illustrates conditions during the early stages of the siege and on the long march. It provides a vivid portrayal of the relationship between the British and Indian troops, a colonial relationship but one which had strong underlying bonds. The story was for his own personal memories and was written in an old notebook but is clearly one which held much emotion for him and could only be written with first-hand experience of the Kut siege and the horrors of the desert march. He called the story ‘Nerves’. It is given below.

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In those early days when the siege of Kut was still young, Going for Rations was a Rotten Job. The first week of unending strain, when every gunner in the battery had been called on to do the labour of three fresh men, had left its mark. Everybody was dead tired. A third of the men had broken down from overwork and exposure and were in hospital. The nerves of the rest were on edge from lack of sleep and weariness. They were in no mood for extra jobs; and going for Rations was both an extra and a Rotten Job. There was nothing heroic about it, nothing to stir the blood or to make the young soldier enthuse. The men had to turn their backs on the enemy and walk southwards to the town, a mile in the dark across the flat desert (for there were no communication trenches as yet) and very often they lost their way. For when an unending hail of bullets is ‘zip-zipping’ into the dust or ‘tseet-tseeting’ through the air around, and an occasional shell comes roaring up from behind, your young soldier walks with his head down and his shoulders hunched, like a man expecting a smack on the back. If he wants to get anywhere he ought to keep his head up and his eyes on the stars; but that requires a training such as the amateur soldiers of the twenty-one pound Battery had never had an opportunity to acquire. So they got lost, wasting their time and their energies and their temper.

That was how the Ration Party, of whom Gunner Birch was one, came to find themselves in the Northern Palm Grove, where they had no right to be. The Leading File had been nervy, walking with bowed shoulders and eyes on the ground, and the others had followed unthinkingly, like sheep.

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‘Lord only knows where we are,’ said the Leading File, coming to a stop and bobbing and ducking like a toy mandarin as the bullets crashed their way through the palm tops or buried themselves with a vicious smack in the fibrous trunks. ‘Lord only knows where we are.’

‘Don’t get windy, Periera,’ laughed Birch. ‘There’s a light over there – must be a funk hole. We can go and ask.’

He pointed to a square of feeble light on the face of the ground a few yards away, and the little party walked up to it and peered in.

It was a dug-out of immense depth, with a roof as solid as the armoured turret of a man of war. A guttering candle, bowing from the heat, cast an uncertain light and showed, dimly, the figures of two Babus20 in khaki cowering against the mud walls. Birch thrust his head through the entrance and recognised one of the two men.

‘Hello, Sakharam!’ he cried. ‘Thought you were in Calcutta. What the Hell are you doing here?’

The bigger of the two Indians turned a frightened face to the doorway. ‘Oh, my!’ he cried. ‘Indeed it is Meester Birch! My God. Queekly, please step inside. I am becoming too much fearsome you will be killed! Kindlee enter without delay!’

Birch, laughing, dropped into the dug-out followed by his two companions and, sitting down beside Sakharam, he repeated his question, ‘What are you doing here, you old Anarchist?’

‘On outbreak of War,’ Sakharam replied, drawing himself up a little. ‘Me and my friend Dhondu, Failed BA and very foremost fellow of Calcutta University.’ (He indicated his companion in distress, who bowed towards Birch.) ‘Me and my friend voluntarily entered Government Service. We are Extra Assistant Supernumerary Surgeons, Sub Pro Tem, on staff of Base Hospital, Mesopotamia. Kindlee do not refer to anarchistic tendencies which are no longer upheld by us.’

Birch laughed. ‘But what are you doing here?’ he asked again.

20 Indian clerks

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‘God only knowing,’ said Sakharam despairingly. ‘We are volunteers merely and completely for Base Hospital work,’ Dhondu explained, ‘but War Time is not as Peace Time and Government surely going to dogs.’

‘We are not soldiers,’ Sakharam went on eagerly. ‘By Rule of War we are non-combatant fellows but they put us in the Front of the Front. Indeed, Meester Birch, you must not laugh! It is not one laughing matter. In Peace Times, perhaps, Army is most honourable profession but in War Time it is indeed not so, but most dangerous affair.’

‘Tell us about it,’ said the Leading File.

‘Listen then! I will tell y’ev’rything. On outbreak of international European upheaval, owing to Indian Police removing velvet glove formerly worn and exposing cloven hoof, and bird in hand being worth two in bush, Mr Dhondu and I resigned our position in Society of Young Indian Liberators.’

‘You were a chemist – made bombs, didn’t you?’ Birch interrupted.

‘No!’ said Dhondu, unblushing.

‘Kindlee allow sleeping dogs to sleep,’ said Sakharam. ‘Listen and I will tell. After glorious victory of Es-Sin we arrived at decision to serve King and Country on Base Hospital Staff, in rear of victorious army, and by favour of his honour the Deputy Commissioner Sahib of Ranjangore obtained aforesaid appointments but they are not fulfilling too very well! Suddenly order coming “Proceed to join Field Ambulance No 54.” Hōō wāāt to do, man?’ (Sakharam’s uplifted palms became violently agitated.) ‘Hōō wāāt to do? Not only are they removing us from Base but even taking us to Suleiman Pāk and putting us in the Absolute Bang Bang! Shells bursting, bursting here and there, bullets coming all the time, like this and that! Truly we were in fear of disintegration and jeopardy of our lives. Moreover Dhondu asking what time battle would finish, a Sergeant of S. and T. called us Bloody Fools. It was the last straw in the eye of the needle. Our livers turned to water. Then on completion of combat we retired back to Kut again, leaving even tents, burning and destroying valuable stores, y’ev’rything oolty poolty, lakhs and lakhs of rupees!! Indeed, War is very costive performance.’

‘You’ve had enough of bombs and bullets, then?’ Periera asked.

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‘Never once no more do we wish to see bombs and bullets,’ said Sakharam earnestly. ‘Even if removed from Government Service we will not manufacture! In future by favour of Government we shall be true and faithful servants of the British Raj, hoping to earn pension.’

‘Good man!’ laughed Birch. Then, with a glance at his watch, he rose to his feet. ‘It is time we got a move on. How does the S. and T. lie from here, Sakharam?’

‘God only knowing!’ said Sakharam piously.

‘Well, is there a communication trench anywhere leading into the town?’

‘Yes,’ said Sakharam. ‘Two hundred yards away there is such a trench.’

‘Well, come along and show us the way to it.’

‘Tonight you must not go Sahib! It is too dangerous. Listen! Bullets are striking here and there! Pray do not go!’

‘We must go!’ said Birch. ‘Come along and show us that trench.’

Sakharam looked the picture of terror. ‘I cannot come,’ he said. ‘When bullets are crashing like this and that I am completely gobrified. I do not know the way! I am not well! I cannot come, indeed I cannot come. I pray you to stay here.’

‘I am not duty bound,’ wailed Sakharam. ‘I am not duty bound.’

But Birch had turned on his heel and left the dug-out, striding out into the night.

* * * * * * * *

It was a week later, and Gunner Birch was again on the same thankless errand. Things were rather worse than before. He had been out of temper before he started, for the Ration Party of the night before had never come back at all. Led once more by Periera they had lost their way for good, so the Battery had been foodless all day. And all day they had lain in the open, under orders not to fire – a restriction that did not in any way apply to the enemy. The one sided show had been most irritating, and hunger had not improved matters.

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Besides, it was not really Birch’s turn for duty. One of the men detailed had suddenly ‘gone sick’, and Birch had been ordered to take his place at the last moment. So he fell in very sullenly at the tail of the little procession as they left the guns.

Suddenly, out of the darkness ahead came the Sergeant’s voice:

‘Oo’s got the bread sack?’ A moment’s silence, and then ‘’ALT.’

The little procession halted and the Sergeant came back along the line, examining each man’s burden. Opposite Birch he stopped. ‘Where’s the bread?’ he asked.

‘I dunno!’

‘You’re detailed for bread, ain’t you?’

‘I dunno!’ – Birch was sulky.

‘Call yourself a soldier!’ said the enraged Sergeant. ‘You ain’t fit to be a bleeding sufferingette! Back to camp, and get that sack – and DOUBLE! D’ye ’ear? Remainder – Quick March!’

Birch went back to the guns, rummaging about in the dark beneath a limber, found a bread sack, and started off again. He was in a worse temper than ever. His comrades were some 200 yards ahead in the darkness. They ought to have waited for him he thought. Damn them! He wasn’t going to hurry to catch them up! He was tired, he was hungry, he was damned if he’d hurry. The Sergeant? Curse the Sergeant! He was as good a man as the Sergeant, aye and better! Born and bred in India, perhaps, but a Martinière boy, a son of that famous school whose boys had proved their worth in the defence of Lucknow. And here he was! Made to dig, to hump rations like a coolie, subjected to the lash of an illiterate Sergeant’s tongue! It was not for this he had joined! It was fighting he wanted. The bullets were whistling overhead in an unending stream. Let them whistle – he could laugh at them. He had laughed at them since they began, more than a fortnight ago, and more than once he had noticed the Sergeant duck. Oh, yes, his was the spirit of a soldier, not of a damned coolie. He thought of Sakharam, and laughed aloud.

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Suddenly he stumbled over something, something that gave a little to his toe and yet felt strangely solid. He knew instinctively what it was but he knelt down and struck a match.

‘My God!’ he whispered. ‘It is Periera,’ and he held the flickering match until it burned his fingers. There, on his back on the desert sand, his head pillowed on the ration meat that had never come, lay his comrade of yesterday. The rough greyback shirt was pulled up over the chest. Round the body a first field dressing, a little stained, was tied clumsily. The dark Eurasian features had turned a curious grey green.

‘And we thought he was only lost,’ Birch whispered to himself. ‘He must have left the others and tried to come on alone.’ Then, realising that he must report what he had seen and get a burial party sent out, Birch got to his feet, a little unsteadily.

As he walked away he began to wonder how long his comrade had lain there, alone, before the End came. The dead face, the staring lack-lustre eyes, the open mouth, the awful protruding tongue, swam before him. He pictured Periera calling feebly at the end for the help that never came. To face death amongst your comrades, with friends around you – that is one thing. But to die alone – to be out on the desert, in the dark, and die alone?

Birch took a deep breath and began to move a little hurriedly. Somehow the bullets seemed to thicken round here! ‘Whoo-oo-oo-eee-ish-ooo-bang’, a shell came out of the darkness behind him, screamed over and burst far in front. Birch swore, and ducked involuntarily. A ricco boomed past like an angry bumble bee. ‘Damn!’ said Birch again, and again he ducked. His shoulders were getting more and more hunched and he was walking a shade quicker, glancing sharply to right and left as he walked. He began to wonder what it felt like to be shot, like Periera, in the belly, hating the idea of it, hating himself for thinking of it. He was ducking more often now, hearing in every whistling bullet a messenger of death intended peculiarly for himself. A bullet plonked into a little mound of earth beside him, and suddenly he found himself running, crouching at first and then, straightening himself, he raced at top speed through the night, zig-zagging as he went. A parapet loomed out of the darkness ahead and he leapt it, falling into the trench beyond, and lay there on his face, trembling all over and whispering a little to himself. The feel of the earth wall comforted and reassured him and he sat up, wedging his back firmly into an angle of the

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traverse. That was better! With his face sunk between his hands he slowly pulled himself together and, after a little while, he lit a cigarette, looking with wonder at his shaking fingers. ‘Oh!’ he muttered to himself, ‘so, that is Fear!’

* * * * * * * *

It was six months later. The starving garrison of Kut had blown their guns to fragments, destroyed their rifles, smashed their bayonets and swords and surrendered to the Turks.

From Kut to Railhead at Raas-el-Ain is 500 miles of barren sand, relieved by a rare town or a very occasional hamlet, and across this waste the remnants of the ‘Fighting Sixth Division’ were being mercilessly driven. The long starvation of the siege had been no preparation for these terrible marches that the Turks compelled their prisoners to make. Bereft of water bottles by their captors the men had suffered agonies of thirst; their only food was a handful of biscuits doled out so stingily, biscuits so, so thick and hard that they had to break them on stones before attempting to eat, and so foully coarse that many, starving as they were, failed to stomach them. Yet night after night, from sunset until high day, they had been forced northwards through the deserts. Day after day they had lain shelterless under the wicked June sun – a mockery of rest. And all through those long days and weary nights, all along those endless miles of deserts, broken men had dropped out, falling by the roadside. Some, stimulated to a last tragic effort by the prod from the bayonets of the Arab guard, or a blow from a rifle butt, had reached a lonely village, there to be left behind, neglected, to die. For the others, whose strength no bayonet could revive, there had been the curved knife and the nameless tortures of the desert Arabs.

It was midday and the columns had halted to rest for the day. Birch lay on his face, his head pillowed on his folded arms. The sun, savage and cruel as the heat of a furnace, beat down on his ragged back. Around him lay his comrades, huddled heaps of weariness, as travel stained, as ragged, as forlorn as himself; and encircling their resting place a thin ring of Arab gendarmes, not unpicturesque in their blue coats and flowing headgear, the polished brass cartridges in their bandoliers glinting in the sunlight. Beyond these the real Sentinel kept his eternal watch, the unchanging, pitiless desert; hot, brown, monotonous, cruel as War itself, it defied all thought of freedom even to the strong.

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Birch sat up wearily, fretting at the heat that would not let him sleep. He was emaciated to a ghastly thinness, his face lined and drawn, his shoulders bowed, like an old man. The end of his strength was very near, and he knew it. He sat there, staring over the flatness to where the desert merged into the quivering heat haze of the near horizon, chin in palm, facing the problem of the thirty mile march before him that night.

‘I must try to eat,’ he murmured to himself. ‘I must eat,’ and, fumbling amongst his rags he brought out a fragment of coarse Turkish biscuit, crushed it on a stone and munched dismally. Then, rising, he rocked his way unsteadily to a puddle of brackish water, and drank. A moment later he fell violently sick.

He threw himself face downward on the sand. ‘I can’t do it!’ he gasped. ‘That’s the third time today! I’ve tried, and I can’t do it!’ And then, in an agony of supplication, he murmured ‘Help me to march through this night, oh God! Help me through this night, oh God!’ over and over again. And soon, as though in answer to his prayer, he fell quietly asleep.

As evening approached the ring of Arab sentries closed in, shouting to the prisoners the order to march, kicking those who still slept. Birch rose, and started bravely, as near the head of the column as he could get. When darkness fell he was still marching steadily, husbanding his strength. Hour after hour passed and he began to harbour hope. He was walking easily, mechanically and without fatigue. There was no pain in it, such as he had felt on other marches, and he experienced a curious sensation as though his muscles were not part of himself but belonged to an automaton that was carrying him on. He grew almost elated when suddenly, about an hour before dawn, the end came. Without warning he collapsed on the road. He gave a broken laugh, struggled to his feet and staggered on, only to fall again. A passing comrade helped him up and he tried again, only to fall a third time.

He realised it was the end and an overpowering dread of the bayonets of the Arab Guard seized him – an intense desire to be allowed to die in peace. He must get off the track, out of the way of the rearguard where, perhaps, they would not notice him as they passed in the darkness. Cautiously, he crawled to one side and lay down in a little hollow. Yes, this would do! It was very peaceful here. He could just see the long column straggling past, in silence, dim figures in the starlight. There they went, two, three, four of them, marching on

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and on! Just like sheep, weren’t they? Going through a pasture at home, one-two-three-four, yes! Just like sheep-one-two-thr–. Birch was asleep.

He had been two hours in the depths of oblivion before he realised, hazily, that persistent efforts were now being made to waken him. Someone was rocking him from side to side, and calling his name over and over again in a hoarse whisper.

‘Meester Birch! Meester Birch! Meester Birch!’

Birch opened his eyes and found it was daylight. Dreamily he recognised the owner of the voice.

‘Go to Hell, Sakharam,’ he said. ‘Go away and let me sleep.’

He tried to turn over again but a smart smack on the cheek brought him thoroughly to himself. He raised himself feebly on his hands and looked around him.

‘Good Lord, Sakharam,’ he said, ‘where are we? Where are the others?’

‘The others,’ said Sakharam, ‘they are all vamoosing. We are alone. Last night you fell out. You remember?’

‘Yes,’ said Birch. ‘I remember now. But how did you come here?’

‘Seeing you coming here to lie down, I too am coming, purely in medical capacity. But on arrival I am already finding you in comatose condition owing, no doubt, to dysenteric symptoms, straining and tenesmus and such, also you superimposed acute asthenia. On fully recognising also the futile attempts to arouse you from such a state, although I am shaking you here and there, I am thinking it would be a good thing, no doubt, to remain with you until aphasic conditions are lapsing. Therefore, I also am hiding here until rearguard is gone. And now, for two hours, I am constantly applying stimulus but all the time you are remaining aphasic and also no doubt suffering from anorexia or lack of desire for food.’

He glanced round apprehensively and went on: ‘It is also most essential urgently to remove ourselves from this spot. In night time it is no doubt very good, but in day time proximity to road is indeed very dangerous. Greatly I am fearing Arabs will come. Look! Over there is some long grass. For love of God,

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man, let us go and hide. So doing, doubtless we can rejoin column or reach village after nightfall.’

‘But why did you wait with me?’ asked Birch. ‘Why didn’t you go on with the others? For you know it is every man for himself on this trek.’

‘Never mind for that!’ Sakharam said. ‘To move now is very immediate and imperative business. All the time the mist is rising, rising! I am very fearsome fellow. Therefore, please come!’

He helped Birch to his feet and, half carrying him (for his weakness was very great) started slowly for a patch of camel thorn and grass some half mile away. But before he had gone a hundred yards he threw himself flat on the sand, dragging down Birch beside him. With quivering finger he pointed to some specks on the horizon.

‘Arabs!’ said Birch. ‘Go! Sakharam. Go, and leave me!’

‘No!’ said Sakharam. ‘I cannot go. To the next village it is seven miles. Those men are horsemen and doubtless they would catch me.’

‘Damn the next village! Crawl for the grass!’ said Birch. ‘Go on! Why! You’re trembling all over! Pull yourself together man and crawl for it. I can’t.’

‘Yes, indeed I am trembling. My liver is turned to water. I am very fearsome fellow. But I am duty bound. I cannot leave you, God only willing the Arabs pass by!’

‘You know what it means if they get us,’ said Birch. ‘Go on, man. Oh! Go on and leave me. I am done anyway!’

‘Movement may be perceptible. I must take equal chance with you, otherwise attracting attention. I will stay.’

Birch said no more and, in silence, the two men watched the approach of the Arabs. Suddenly, one of the cavalcade left his comrades and, riding quickly, came straight towards them. A hundred yards off he stopped his horse, looked intently at the two figures on the sand, then wheeled and galloped, yelling and waving, back to the others.

‘We are seen!’ said Birch. ‘God help us!’

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Sakharam did not answer. He fumbled in his bosom and, after a moment’s hesitation, he thrust a little packet into Birch’s hands.

‘It is lethal dose of morphia,’ he said. ‘Take! – take quickly! You are not afraid? No?’

‘No, I am not afraid,’ said Birch, and swallowed the pills, ‘and you?’ he added smiling. ‘You are not afraid either are you? It is better than knives you know!’

‘Yes, it is better,’ said Sakharam.

‘Then hadn’t you better do it in time?’ asked Birch.

‘I have no more pills,’ said Sakharam simply.

Birch stared at him. ‘Why did you give them to me?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘Why? Why? It is every man for himself on this trek! Why do you shame me with this easy death? They were your pills – you had saved them up for this. And you gave them to me! Why?’

‘You are my patient, Sahib,’ said Sakharam, and for a long space both men lay silent. The Arabs had spread out in a wide fan and had begun to approach, slowly and very cautiously.

Sakharam peered into Birch’s eyes. ‘Contraction of pupils has set in, Sahib,’ he said. ‘Are you drowsy?’

‘I am beginning to feel sleepy,’ said Birch.

‘Good,’ said Sakharam. He glanced at the Arabs. ‘But more time is certainly required for full operation of drug. Truly, I am most fearsome fellow but I will cause delay, being duty bound on behalf of my patient.’ He hesitated a moment, half holding out his hand, then he rose to his feet. ‘Goodbye,’ he said, simply, and walked quickly away towards the slowly approaching Arabs.

With an effort Birch raised himself. ‘Sakharam!’ he called hoarsely. ‘Sakharam! Don’t go! Let us face it together. Oh! Sakharam! I am sorry for what I said long ago! I want to shake hands with you.’

But Sakharam did not hear. He was standing, waiting by the roadside a hundred yards away, and Birch’s feeble voice could not reach him.

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The Arabs, full of suspicion, had stopped. Birch watched them. He was very sleepy now. As in a dream he heard them call one to another in queer, far away voices. They were conferring together. As in a dream he saw them coming on again, very slowly, very warily, nearer and nearer to Sakharam. Those funny little flashes – he could not see very well now – they must be knives in the morning sun. They were quite close now. They would have him in a minute if he stood still like that. Oh! Sakharam had seized a stone and hurled it full in the face of the nearest Arab. Now he had darted across the road and leapt into the ditch on the far side. He was picking up stones and throwing them frantically. Dimly, Birch saw the final rush, saw the knives rising and falling, heard shriek after shriek, scream after scream, from the ditch. He wondered confusedly what it was all about. And this big Arab who was coming up? What did he want? Ah! He had his knife in his hand! Birch smiled sleepily up at him.

‘Too late cockie,’ he murmured. ‘I’m going to sleep.’

And he Slept.

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12. Letters and cards from the Mesopotamia campaign

Harry wrote three letters home from the Mesopotamia campaign, two from Al’ Amarah and one from Kut, sent just before the siege. Two Christmas cards were also sent, both of which arrived when Harry was under siege.

In both this chapter and chapter 13 (which contains extensive correspondence from Yozgad) each letter and postcard has been transcribed and presented with accompanying notes to identify coded messages, translate Welsh words and expressions used and to give explanations of anything which may not be clear to the modern reader. The notes are self-contained to enable each letter and postcard to be read as an individual item without having to cross reference.

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12.1 Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah

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Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued)

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Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued) To: Mair Jones (his wife) From: Gunner E.H. Jones

Contents: Volunteer Artillery Battery

ON ACTIVE SERVICE Indian Expeditionary Force ‘D’ c/o Indian Office

Whitehall, London September 2nd 1915

My beloved wife,

Last mail brought me a feast indeed – three letters from your mother, one with a P.S. by Taid that you had safely arrived, a letter from your father from Cardiff, two letters from my father three from my mother, and above all a packet of letters from you – from [??], Alexandria & Liverpool. All these came together, and I devoured and re-devoured them – chewed the cud of them as it were. By the next mail I should get the verdict of two Taids and one Nain on wee Jean. It was a deep joy to me to read of how the roses were coming back on the voyage.

Min Käraste! Taid Brynkynallt says you are thinner than he has ever seen you. That won’t do, my darling. You have got to get as fat as butter before the war is over. ‘Cofia’r babi newydd’, too. One of your letters mentioned our little Aryfordd, and I gather you have quite made up your mind about it. I wish I could be with you again, carissima, but you know my love is about you always.

There are one or two subjects, anwylid, that are too sacred for mere pen and paper, even without the censor, however lightly his eye may skim. But I think of you and our babies night and day – the grand diapason of the music of my life – And I can understand why it is that at home the married men are coming forward so well. They have so much more to lose if the Germans win. Since you and Jean came, life has been so much richer. ‘’Twill be savin’ all the pother when we each is one another.’ So I’m going to be supremely careful of myself, and you are to be the same. Think of me as being always near you, my dearest, and be as cheerful as a cricket.

I am ever so well, and as happy as a man can be – much happier than I could have been had I stayed in Burma. There are plenty of men there who can be DCs and HQAs, and the real tussle is not coming (as far as Burma goes) until the end of the war. Then I shall be glad to go back, for there will be new problems to face and I shall face them with a new insight. I have learned, for one thing, that the average Eurasian is not a leader of men, primarily because he is everlastingly thinking of his own dignity, and because no man who is self-centred in that way can be really tactful. The true leader must put himself last. The Eurasian definition of authority is like the German. He thinks an officer should drive, and not lead, and he confuses fear of punishment with real discipline. And I cannot for the life of me get rid of the feeling that the average Eurasian believes there is a certain indignity in obedience unless the person obeyed is of a higher social standing than the person ordered. (‘Social’ as contrasted with ‘official’). In short they are always insistent on their own rights, and hunt for insults where none is intended. It is a tough problem – to avoid favouritism to the white element and yet to maintain discipline. But I expect some of the young terriers at home have the same difficulties.

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Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued) Contents (continued):

The battery has now been split into three parts, a portion having gone on, presumably to the front. I remain with the main part at Amarah, which is being rapidly converted into a big base. It looks as if we shall be kept on garrison duty here, where there is about as much chance of a fight as there is in your garden. No doubt you will be highly delighted. When we first came here I believe it was quite near ‘the front’, – i.e. as far as the majority of the troops had gone. But now they have advanced far enough to make this place a sort of health resort. You can’t swing a cat here now without hitting a general. One of the generals here is called ‘Soapy’ by the Tommies because of his fondness for soap on leather equipment. He had a look at us today and seems to be of the type who go into things for themselves & don’t trust to reports.

I now go daily to a Syrian priest for my lessons in Arabic. He is well educated and is a reasonably good teacher which the other man was not. I am learning at last. Every day we read some verses of St John, and do some colloquial work. Every evening I write – very painfully and laboriously – a page or so of Arabic. I don’t seem to be so quick at picking up words as I used to be, but then the conditions under which I try to work – constant interruptions – are new to me. Latterly I have taken to going to the ‘R.A.T.A.’ and sitting in as quiet a corner as I can get with my Arabic lessons. For one thing this place is much cooler than the billet, and more airy than my little cellar.

It is beginning to get cooler again and the drop in temperature at night is getting greater. Yesterday’s official maximum & minimum were 105 & 76 – nearly 30 degrees difference. So I need a blanket at night, and am I glad that I brought an extra blanket with me from Moulmein. I have sent to Tun Hlaing for some warm underclothing which should arrive before the winter sets in. I believe it can be bitterly cold.

I shall write again in a few days. Since I began this letter I have been interrupted a score of times at least – mostly by Christison who has a most cussed habit of talking half to himself. He came in just now for the fourth time in the last five minutes, & for the fourth time he asked ‘Hello? Still writing?’ So I replied ‘No, I’m digging a trench.’ Yesterday he asked me ‘Hello! Are you here?’ (If you don’t answer he asks again). He asked me twice. The second time I replied ‘No, I’m at Baghdad. This is another fellow, not me.’ Little hints like that are improving him a bit.

My other friend – Jock Reid – is the most tremendous sleeper you could imagine. He usually turns in after breakfast and sleeps till tea (4 p.m.) & then sleeps all night too.

Yesterday I purchased for Rs 3/8/- a bedstead (plank) to which I can fix mosquito curtains, for fever has been manifesting itself a little in the battery.

All my love to you & wee Jean

Dy gariad am byth

Harry From Gunner E.H. Jones Vol. Art. Battery

I.E.F.D.

89

Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued) Notes:

1. Moulmein (Mawlamyine) in Lower Burma was where Harry and his wife were based in Burma before he joined up as a volunteer following an India wide call for recruits. The Burma contingent of the Volunteer Artillery Battery, which included Harry, consisted of three officers and forty-four men with Harry initially joining as rank but subsequently promoted to officer.

2. They sailed first from Rangoon to Calcutta and then travelled by rail overland to Bombay. From Bombay they sailed to Basra under the command of Major A.J. Anderson on a B.1. steamer, travelling via Karachi to pick up extra troops. In a letter home to his family, Major Anderson wrote that they ‘left Bombay on 16th July 1915 on board the Barala that day as 4 officers and 44 men from Rangoon plus 6 followers’. Presumably an additional officer had joined. (The Barala was a 3,148 ton steamer operated by The British India Steam Navigation Company which merged with the P&O Steam Navigation Company in 1914.)

3. They arrived in Basra around 24th July 1915. On that date an advance contingent of the battery was already in action in the Battle of Nasariyeh (now Nasariya) on the Euphrates River.

4. Two days later Harry’s contingent under Major Anderson proceeded up the Tigris River by river steamer to the town of Al’ Amarah, captured from the Turks on 3rd June 1915 and now established as a forward base.

5. This letter from Harry was written from Al’ Amarah on 2nd September 1915. By then, forward troops from Al’ Amarah had proceeded some seventy miles upriver towards Kut-el-Amara (Kut) and, on 1st August 1915, occupied the village of Ali-al-Gharbi as an advanced post (see map on page 14). This forward post was consolidated between 1st August 1915 and 15th September 1915 with the bulk of the Sixth Indian Division and it would have been these troops to whom Harry refers in his letter when he writes about ‘a section having gone on, presumably to the front’.

6. As a Gunner, Harry was a member of the ranks when he wrote this letter. He was shortly to be promoted by Major Anderson to Corporal and gazetted to a commission in the Indian Army Reserve of Officers.

7. ‘R.A.T.A.’ is the ‘Royal Army Temperance Association’, the precursor to the modern-day NAAFI. It was established in 1902 as an army-wide association to provide an alternative for soldiers to the heavy drinking habits of Victorian armies. It originated from earlier regimental temperance societies which had been formed to combat excessive drinking habits, particularly in India, where long periods of boredom and isolation led to heavy drinking by soldiers stationed there. The notepaper that Harry is using for his letter home is headed with the insignia ‘Watch and be Sober’, the motto of the earlier ‘Soldiers’ Total Abstinence Association’ formed in Agra after the 1857 India Mutiny. The initials ‘AA’ in the insignia stand for Abstinence Association. The association provided welcome facilities for soldiers both garrisoned and on active duty and, in this case, provided a quieter and cooler place for Harry to write home.

90

Letter dated 2nd September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued) Notes (continued):

8. ‘Min Käraste’ is Swedish for ‘My most beloved’ and Harry uses it as a term of endearment. Mair, his wife, had worked in Sweden before they were married in 1913 and thus would have known its meaning.

9. The word ‘pother’ has the meaning ‘mental anguish’ in its use in this letter. 10. ‘Taid’ and ‘Nain’ are the names used in Wales for ‘Grandfather’ and ‘Grandmother’. 11. He also uses the Welsh words ‘Cofia’r babi newydd’ and ‘aryffordd’. The former

means ‘remember the new baby’ and the latter, strictly ‘ar y ffordd’, means ‘on the way’. In the letter he is reminding his wife, who was five months pregnant at that time, to look after her health for the unborn child as well as herself as he has heard she has lost a lot of weight. The Welsh word ‘anwylid’ (correctly spelled ‘anwylyd’) means ‘darling’ and the words ‘dy gariad am byth’ mean ‘your sweetheart for ever’.

12. Mair Jones left Burma in April 1915 by steamer with their four month old daughter Jean. She was newly pregnant with a son who was to be born in January 1916.

13. Tun Hlaing looked after Harry and Mair when they lived in Taungdwingyi in Upper Burma during 1913 and 1914. In Mair’s journal she describes him as follows:

Tun Hlaing is a Burman & a Brick. He understands me when I talk Burmese & when I talk English. I haven’t tried him in Welsh or Swedish yet. He is the Butler, footman, housemaid, Harry’s Wally de chambre [sic] rolled into one.

I like wandering about Taungdwingyi & watching the people. Tun Hlaing walks about three yards behind & with a mighty voice scatters bullocks & dogs & sometimes children from my way.’

Mair is using ‘Wally’ as colloquial for ‘wallah’. Wallah in India means somebody who does a specific task (as in Punkawallah, a man who operates a punka, a fan, literally ‘fan man’). Clearly Tun Hlaing acted as general factotum to Harry and Mair while they were in Taungdwingyi.

14. Harry’s prescience on the future in Burma: ‘for there will be new problems to face and I shall face them with a new insight’ is revealing for he clearly foresaw the decline of colonialism in Burma. He saw the Eurasian as a poor ‘leader of men’, the ‘social’ structures erected by the colonialists as demeaning, the use of ‘fear of punishment’ as a substitute for discipline and the need for ‘obedience’ as self-defeating. His views resonate with those of George Orwell who overlapped Harry’s time in Burma in the early 1920s and whose distaste for the effects of colonialism, witnessed when in Burma, were vividly expressed in his novel Burmese Days. Harry was clearly equally sceptical of the colonial way of doing things.

15. The letter gives a taste of the life in a forward base in the Mesopotamia campaign.

91

12.2 Letter dated 21st September 1915 from Al’ Amarah

92

Letter dated 21st September 1915 from Al’ Amarah (continued)

93


94


95


To: Mrs. E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales (his wife) From: Corporal E.H. Jones

Contents:

Voluntary Artillery Battery Indian Expeditionary Force ‘D’

Persian Gulf c/o Presidency Postmaster

Bombay 21st September 1915

My darling,

I got a splendid birthday present today – four letters from you, the last dated 17th August – and one of them containing a photo of you & baby on board ship! It has been the happiest morning for me since you left; and I missed my Arabic lesson to stay behind & read and re-read your news. Your letters, of course, come through uncensored – or at least uncensored by anyone I know. But mine to you are censored by our own officers, and a (perhaps silly) sense of the sacredness of our intimacy (which I should not feel were the censor someone I did not know), keeps me pen-tied in spite of myself. I think the order by which our own officers have to censor our letters is a mistake – it is not a job they like, but they have got to do their duty, and with a lot of young schoolboys like we've got in the battery a declaration that the letter did not require censoring is insufficient. So it is difficult to write to you the sort of letter I would wish to write at this juncture. You must take the will for the deed, anwylid.

Yes, I am ‘quite quite well’ – that is what you want to know, isn’t it? If you are only half as well as I have been since I began to be a Tommy, I shall be more than content. The life suits me, and has hardened me up. I am always ready for my dinner, nowadays, although it is only one course, and we grub for that course out of a dixie. I believe we eat too much fal di lals [sic] and tommy rot like hors d’ouevres & sich like [sic], in civil life.

Let me repeat that there is no need at all for you to be more anxious about me here than if I had been in Burma. So far as I know the chances of our being in a scrap are remote. Indeed Jim, in India, has had a spell of fighting while I have been sitting in perfect security here in Amara [sic], so you may take it that I am about as likely to see fighting here as I was in Burma. Garrison work – which is our primary duty – naturally means that we take over positions which have been captured. It is monotonous and inglorious but necessary.

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Contents (continued): I am glad Mrs Bryant is coming to you, and I am perfectly content with your choice of

Price. You could not get a better. Will you remain at home, or go elsewhere? Just do what you think is best, anwylid, and above all keep free from care, and get strong & well. I wish I could be with you again, just to do sentry go and feel sure you were there. You can telegraph to me direct, you know, by putting my Name, Regt., & I.E.F.D. c/o India Office (or Presidency Postmaster Bombay). You should enquire of the Post Office at home for the best days for telegraphing. Here Friday & Saturday are reserved for telegrams on family affairs to India at a cheap rate.

I was much heartened, anwylid, by your letter written when you got the news that I was accepted (the letter was received only today). Long may ‘the clouds remain at your feet and your head in the sun’, beloved – the kindly sun of old England, not our fierce Eastern one. A wifie like yourself makes it worth a fellow’s while to do his duty. You have all along made it very easy for me to play the game. I do not know what I would have done with myself, or how miserable I should have been had you taken a contrary view to mine of what was right; and tied me down instead of standing by me and helping me as you have done. Bless you, old girl, and keep on making my life a song by keeping cheerful and looking ahead through a separation that will end by bringing us closer to one another than ever. I know, carissima, that you feel dumpy sometimes, but don’t ‘go away and howl’, if it looks sometimes as if the war is never going to end. Every day brings the end a day nearer – you just tell little Jean so, and be as happy as she is. A merry heart goes all the way, and it is your duty, you know, to our little family and to your dear self. And when your ordeal comes, beloved, I shall be beside you, for distance is nothing, and time is nothing to the little winged God who links us. My ‘sentry go’ will be done under an Eastern sky, anwylid, and you’ll hear my ammunition boots creaking up and down outside when the time comes, just as it was in Rangoon.

You say you’ll be able to utilize me as dhobi and sweeper and housemaid and durzi when I come back. I published your intention to some of my pals in the battery, to their great joy. Now that we are in quasi permanent billets our washing is done for us by Arab women, who are in this way much more comfortably off than they were before the troops came.

Au revoir carissima. Kiss little Jean for me. All my love to you.

Dy gariad am byth.

Harry.

Please continue addressing c/o Thomas Cook Bombay

97


Notes:

1. On 21st September 1915, Harry was still based in Al’ Amarah on garrison work which was clearly frustrating. Between 2nd September 1915 and 21st September 1915 he had been promoted to Corporal.

2. Since writing his earlier letter of 2nd September 1915, the main contingent of troops had repositioned some thirty-two miles further up the Tigris River, assembling at Sannaiyat and Nakhailat about eight miles east of Kut and close to the location known as Es-Sin where the Turks had constructed extensive trench positions (see map on page 14). On 26th September 1915 practically the entire force of the Sixth Indian Division was camped at Nakhailat.

3. The Battle of Es-Sin took place on 28th September 1915 and was largely over early in the morning of the following day when the Turks retreated upriver.

4. Following the battle the troops of the Sixth Indian Division pursued of the retreating Turks towards Baghdad, the ultimate objective. On 30th September 1915 the forces were at Kut. The following day they continued to push on up the river, reaching Bghailah on 2nd October and Aziziah on 5th October where they formed a new advanced position.

5. With this new forward troop position, Kut was established as a new rear base. Harry was repositioned there in mid-November 1915.

6. In India and Burma a ‘dhobi’ is a person who does the laundry and a ‘durzi’ is a person who makes or mends clothes.

7. The Welsh words ‘Dy gariad am byth’ mean ‘Your sweetheart forever’. The Welsh word ‘anwylid’ (correctly spelled ‘anwylyd’) means ‘darling’.

98

12.3 Letter dated 14th November 1915 from Kut

99

Letter dated 14th November 1915 from Kut (continued)

100


101


102


103


104


To: Mrs. E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales (his wife) From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, I.A.R. attached Volunteer Artillery Battery

Contents: I.E.F.D.

c/o India Office Whitehall

London 14 November

My darling,

Your letter of 5 Oct has just arrived. I find it saves anything up to a week if you post c/o India Office, Whitehall, London, but of course you must post to that address a day or so before the Indian mail leaves in order to give them time to readdress before the mail.

So baby pulls herself up and stands, does she? She’ll be toddling in no time now – before you get this letter perhaps. You must photograph her then – and yourself too carissima. You are both of you my darlings, you know, and I’m such an old sweetheart of yours now that you won’t mind my having another one, will you? As soon as she can toddle I’ll begin making love to her, and cut you out. You just wait till I get home and swing her up to the ceiling, and play camels and bulls and horses and elephants, for all which games you require a good strong daddy on his hands and knees. She won’t be able to pull my hair because it is too short for even her tiny hands to get a grip of it. So there I have you at a great advantage.

So I won’t have to prog you any more to go to the hills carissima? You’ve realized it, I see, for yourself. In Burma weakness comes on one like vice – so slowly that one does not notice it. I could see you losing strength every day, and I used to worry a good bit at times about you, and then I’d ‘prog’. I am so glad I won’t have to prog any more, my dearest, for it hurts to prog, you know. But you are never never to say to me again that you were ‘no help socially’. Everybody loved you, my dearie and everybody cussed me for not sending you to the hills. They all knew you were just too weak for words. And my shoulders were broad enough, anwylid, & I could laugh at them. And now, never no more are you going to let yourself get run down, never no more are you going to say ‘No’ to your adoring hubby. What ho! Three cheers & three times three! Best beloved! Do you remember one night in Moulmein when you came to me & cried a little & asked me if I was ill? I was so worried about you then I did not know what to do. But now, henceforth & forever more it is to be quite different, and you are going to believe that you had better imitate other white women out East.

105


Contents (continued): Hurrah, my dearie O! I don’t want you to be like other women in anything but one thing, and that one thing is looking after yourself. For the rest you are to be your own very darling self, not like any woman at all but just my own little Mairie. If the good God grant us a long life together, if he will bring me safe to you at the end of this trial, you must just go on being your own sweet self. And if the fates decree otherwise, my dearie, it will be all the same, and you will be to Sian Fach Fechan and to the little unknown the same bright star as you always have been to me. I hope I am not to be wasted, as better men than I have been, by a conscript’s bullet, but if I am, carissima mea, be of good cheer, and of great courage. For nothing is mortal – I know, now, that immortality is as certain as God. You will come back to me, and I to you, and we are one for ever and ever. Somehow, I know this. I bed me down, o' nights, in my little tent, with the illimitable desert around me and God’s Bowl of Sky and Stars above, as securely, as peacefully, as hopefully, as in times of peace at home, knowing that God is Good, and God is Love. Something of a fatalist, if you like, but a fatalist who takes his precautions, because he loves you more than himself and more than all the world, and wants, above everything else, to come back to you.

And I am coming back, Mairie bach, back to you and Sian Fach Fechan and the little unknown, for we have had enough of separation, and waiting, and solitude, you & I.

But, remember! I’m with you now, every hour of the day and night, and Taid’s arms around the new baby are my arms, and your mother’s hand on your brow is my hand, and the miserable pain you suffer is my pain. And your joy, my [??] darling, is my joy too. The joy has got to be doubled, and the misery halved, you know. And perhaps in six months, perhaps when the Little Unknown is a toddler, perhaps still later, we shall meet, you & I, and when we meet the war will be over and there will be a mighty peace over the world. And wee Jean and the Little Unknown will grow up, and as they grow their mother will tell them how Daddy became a soldier in the time of the Great War, and how Mummy waited at home for him to come back when the war was finished, and how the Stork brought Daddy & Mummy a Xmas present of the Little Unknown. And Daddy and Mummy lived happy for ever after.

I am very very well, my dearie, and have no news at all. Always remember, carissima, when you read in the papers news of fighting out here, that our battery is primarily intended for post work on the lines of communication, and it is unlikely we will take part in any big attack. If we came into action it would probably be a case of one of our forts being attacked, so you are not to imagine me in the fighting should you read of our advancing again and fighting again.

106


Contents (continued): This campaign is really more interesting than any trench warfare can be. So far we

have had two big advantages over the enemy, better guns and aeroplanes. The latter we have acquired since Shaiba, and they are of inestimable value in reconnoitring although the atmosphere out here plays the most unbelievable tricks on vision. A band of 1000 men may look like 1000 at one moment and 10 the next. You are gazing at, say, a low line of sand hills 1500 yards away, and suddenly they are blotted out, and all the ground from 500 yards in front of you is covered with a great glassy sheet of water. It isn’t as if only one man saw the mirage - everybody sees it at the same time. So artillery work becomes very difficult and range taking almost an impossibility. These conditions are common in the hot weather, rare in the cold. The result is one almost always fires by indirect laying and trusts to an observation officer who is sent out any distance you like in front. At the recent battle for instance a heavy battery was ordered to fire so many rounds at so many degrees magnetic bearing & at such & such a range. The men at the battery could see nothing & had no idea what they were engaging until told. But the airman wirelessed down the results of thus ‘(1) plus 500 (2) plus 200 (3) 200 yards to the right minus fifty (4) direct hit (5) direct hit, carry on’. That is something very near what actually happened in the case of this battery I am talking about, & after the first half dozen rounds the airman had to come down owing to engine trouble and the forward observation officer had his telephone line cut, so for the rest of the series the battery were firing ‘blindly’ as it were, but as they had the range they could keep it, & did (as it turned out) tremendous damage. Your father, I am sure, would be tremendously interested.

I have to thank you for the book of Lloyd George’s speeches which I am reading with the greatest of pleasure. The book on artillery has not yet arrived. But I have received the Arabic grammar. Considering the difficulties that have to be overcome the postal arrangements are really most excellent.

Au revoir, my love, for another week

Dy gariad am byth,

Harry.

Notes:

1. Major A.J. Anderson, Harry’s commanding officer in the Volunteer Artillery Battery, reports in his diary that the battery with two fifteen-pounder field guns were at Kut on 13th November 1915 and therefore it is believed that this letter was written in Kut. From the same diary Harry was certainly there or thereabouts on that date.

2. Harry’s letter confirms the difficulties that the artillery were having finding range in desert mirage conditions and the experimentation with the use of airmen as artillery spotters. It probably relates to the fighting that took place at Es-Sin on 28th/29th September 1915. Shaiba, which Harry mentions in the same paragraph, was the scene of early fighting in the campaign on 14th April 1915 just outside Basra.

107

Letter dated 14th November 1915 from Kut (continued) Notes (continued):

3. Harry had been further promoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant since his earlier letter of 21st September 1915. To maintain his credentials with his ex-civil service colleagues from Rangoon he insisted he was ‘still one of them’ and, according to The Siege by Russell Braddon, scrounged the wing of an aeroplane to prove it. Much had happened to the Sixth Indian Division since Harry’s earlier letter of 21st September and much was about to occur.

4. The reference to ‘Sian Fach Fechan’ is a reference to young Jean, Harry’s eleven month old daughter. ‘Sian’ is Welsh for ‘Jane’, but was used by the family interchangeably for Jean, and ‘fach’ in Welsh means ‘little’. The ‘little unknown’ is the child with which Mair is seven and a half months pregnant.

5. The word ‘prog’ which he uses is an interesting word. It is an old English slang word meaning ‘discipline’.

6. The Welsh words ‘dy gariad am byth’ mean ‘your sweetheart for ever’; ‘anwylid’ (correctly spelled ‘anwylyd’) means ‘darling’.

7. The message ‘Au revoir, my love, for another week’ is poignant since, given the rapidly changing events of which he was unaware when he wrote, he was unlikely to be able to write again for some time.

108

12.4 Christmas cards from Mesopotamia, Xmas 1915

CARD 1 – OUTSIDE & INSIDE

109

Christmas cards from Mesopotamia, Xmas 1915 (continued)

To: Mair Jones (his wife) and his family back home From: Hal (E.H. Jones) in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq)

Notes:

1. This card for Christmas 1915 was sent by Harry to his wife Mair and his family back home. It is not known where Harry was at the time, or when it was sent but it is likely that he was either in Al’ Amarah or Kut.

2. The card must have to have been sent before the beginning of December for it to have a chance of getting to the UK in time for Christmas. When it was received, Harry and the troops at Kut would have already been under siege.

110


CARD 2 – FRONT

111


CARD 2 – INSIDE LEFT

112


CARD 2 – INSIDE RIGHT

113


CARD 2 – BACK

114


To: Miss Jean Eryl Jones (his one year old daughter) From: Daddy (E.H. Jones) in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq)

Notes:

1. This Christmas card, also for Christmas 1915, was sent by Harry to his one year old daughter Jean. Like the first card it is not known where Harry was when it was sent or when it was sent.

2. Again the card must have been sent before the beginning of December for it to have a chance of getting to the UK in time for Christmas. When it was received, Harry and the troops at Kut would have already been under siege.

115

13. Letters and postcards from Yozgad

Harry wrote many postcards and letters from Yozgad. Some contained encrypted messages which were used by the War Office in London to get relief to the prisoners, while other such encrypted messages give information to his parents and wife back home of his plans for escape. These encryptions were ingeniously devised and successfully passed both the Turkish censors.

Many of the cards have had to be decoded again as the original decoded messages have not been passed down. There are instances where it is believed that codes still remain to be cracked.

116

13.1 Postcard dated 25th June 1916 from Angora (Ankara)

117

Postcard dated 25th June 1916 from Angora (continued)

To: Mrs E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor, North Wales, England [sic] (his wife) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. I.A.R. Prisoner of War, Angora, Turkey in Asia

Contents:

I am in excellent health en route for an unknown destination. Tell father that all is well as I am only allowed to write one postcard of 4 lines. Keep cheerful, and apply to our War Office for my address. Much love to my dear one. Harry

From 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones I.A.R. Vol. Artillery Battery Prisoner of War

Notes: 1. This postcard would have been the first message that his wife Mair received from Harry

since the start of the siege of Kut seven months earlier. 2. The prisoners arrived in Angora at 12.30 p.m. on 21st June 1916 by train from Posanté

via Konia, Afion Karahissar and Eskichehr after a fifty-three-day journey on boat, foot and train. Many of the men were weak from shortage of food, arriving with clothes and shoes worn thin or non-existent. The full description of this journey is contained in the books In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division and Tales of Turkey by Major E.W.C. Sandes. The even worse fate suffered by the rank and file captured at Kut is told in the chilling book Other Ranks of Kut by Flight Sergeant P.W. Long.

3. Angora is the old name for Ankara, the capital of Turkey since 1923 located in the west-central part of the country in the Anatolian highlands – the name of the city was changed in 1930.

4. I.A.R. = Indian Army Reserve (I.A.R.O. = Indian Army Reserve of Officers). 5. Vol. Artillery Battery = Volunteer Artillery Battery, part of the 18th Brigade, Sixth Indian

Division under the command of Major-General C.V.F. Townshend CB, DSO, during the Mesopotamia campaign, 1914–16.

118

13.2 Postcard dated 26th July 1916 from Yozgad

119

Postcard dated 26th July 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Lady Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland (his mother) From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey

Contents:

All well. Instruct Jim to try to recover my two fowling pieces which were sent out by Sergt. Major Crowther Rangoon Port Defence addressed to Commanding Officer Volunteer Battery just before siege. Probably with our battery now. Send me a pair of strong old slippers, and cheap set of chess men without board. Also ‘Turkish Self Taught’, Patience Cards, and a Law text book for any subject in the Bar Final Examination. Climate very pleasant: We now get a walk every third day. Please keep for me newspaper cuttings concerning Kut. War news is not allowed. Have not received any further postcards from you since that of May 4th. Give me news of Pero, how is he getting on now that he has grown bigger. Love to Mair and all.

Notes and hidden messages: 1. Harry left Angora at 3.30 p.m. on 25th June 1916 and arrived at Yozgad four and a half

days later at 10.00 a.m. on 30th June 1916 by cart and on foot via Kilitchlar, Denck Ma’aden, Sekilah and Serai21 and following the Kyzyl River for part of the way. The men had covered almost 2,000 miles across mountain, desert and plain in the full summer heat. Harry had been twenty-six days in Yozgad when he sent this card.

2. Harry requested a book to enable him to learn Turkish. He was to become fluent in Turkish and used this as a major part of the subterfuge late in the escape when both he and C.W. Hill feigned lunacy, Hill being a ‘religious depressive’ and Harry being a ‘raving’ lunatic – believing himself Turkish and against all things British.

3. In the postcard Harry refers to now getting ‘a walk every third day’. This is the first time that they have been allowed out of their rooms in the Yozgad houses in which they were billeted with as little as forty-three square feet of floor space per man (an area of approximately six feet by seven feet) in which to live, eat and sleep.

4. Pero is the family dog but the reference is a strange inclusion when space and text is limited.

21 The modern town names are Kiliçlar (Kilitchlar), Keskin (Denck Ma’aden or Mardeen), Sekili (Sekilah) and Saray (Serai).

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13.3 Postcard dated 3rd August 1916 from Yozgad

121

Postcard dated 3rd August 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Mrs E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor, North Wales, England [sic] (his wife) From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 4

Contents:

Received your card 4th May. I am well. Glad to hear my son is doing so well at school. Does he know enough Latin to read my poem in your album yet? Now, Darllenwch dear, send tea and tobacco, Eno’s, underclothes, needles, sugar, antipon, tabloid ink, soap formamint, aspirin, cocoa, toffee, Oxo, razor, Yardley’s dental extract, matches, alum, nuts, dates, euthymol, novels, quinine, uniform. I remain Yozgad for present, so please note when addressing letters etc. Love to Jean and Harry and your dear self. Be quite happy about my health – I am quite all right. Harry

Notes and hidden messages:

1. The sentence ‘Glad to hear my son is doing so well at school. Does he know enough Latin to read my poem in your album yet?’ probably contains a message but it is not clear. Harry’s son was only seven months old at the time, not at school and certainly not capable of knowing Latin.

2. ‘Darllenwch’ means ‘read’ in Welsh. Reading the initial letters of the succeeding words gives ‘State unsatisfactory. Demand enquiry’.

3. In his book In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division, Major E.W.C. Sandes records that the message received a reply from his wife Mair as follows:

Grape-nuts, oil, Virol, Eno’s, razor, nuts, malt, elastic, novels, tea, envelopes, quinine, underclothes, ink, reels, indiarubber, needles, games. Eryl now growing long and noisy. Daisy very energetic. Ruth yesterday saw Ted. Rode over. Nesta going Newnham. Orme Willows empty now. Emma married. I expect spend Christmas Oxford. Llandudno after. Papa says I’ll never go.

4. Taking the initial letters of the words spells out the message ‘Government enquiring. England very strong now. Enemies collapsing’.

5. The messages in Harry’s postcards were not detected by the Turks but were spotted by Harry’s family and communicated to the War Office in London. As a prominent Welshman of his day, Sir Henry Jones, Harry’s father, was well connected with the office of David Lloyd George, the then Prime Minister.

6. Major Sandes records that conditions for the prisoners at Yozgad improved as the result of the coded messages, and later cryptograms, sent from Yozgad and the resultant enquiries led by the British Government. In his book The Road to En-dor, Harry records the inspections that took place after his coded messages had been sent.

122

13.4 Postcard dated 7th September 1916 from Yozgad

123

Postcard dated 7th September 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland England [sic] (his father), forwarded to c/o Professor Walker, St David’s College, Lampeter, S. Wales (Hugh, brother of his mother Annie Walker)

From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey

Contents:

I am perfectly well. With reference to question in your postcard I am agreeable that Harry Lias and his four friends should occupy ‘Y Gegin’, Noddfa at a rent of £60/- per annum but I cannot afford to improve the sanitary arrangement, nor can I allow them any furniture at this rate of rental. As I am now on half pay I cannot afford to continue paying them. They must feed, clothe and bed themselves. My reputation as a kind master may suffer if it becomes known, but it cannot be helped. Love to all.

Notes and hidden messages: 1. The card contains a coded message. In Welsh, ‘Y Gegin’ = ‘the kitchen’; ‘Noddfa’ =

‘refuge’. Noddfa could either refer to his parents’ house of the same name or it could mean Yozgad camp. ‘Harry Lias’ is himself (his name is Elias Henry – he was betting that the Turks would not know that ‘Harry’ was short for ‘Henry’ and that, by reversing his two first names and disguising them both, he could send a message about himself whilst the Turks would think it was about another person).

2. The message is that he and four others are being charged £60 per year for the small bare room in which they are imprisoned with poor sanitary arrangements, no furniture, and that they must feed and clothe themselves and receive half pay (implying half is being stolen). ‘At a rent’ is underlined to convey the £60 is a forced payment. He suggests he would be punished if his complaint were found out.

124

13.5 Letter undated, likely September 1916, from Yozgad

…THE REST OF THE LETTER IS MISSING

125

Letter undated, likely September 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones (his father) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. I.A.R. Prisoner of War, Yozgad, Turkey. Number 54

Contents: My dear Father

This week we are allowed two pages. I am very well. Indeed Yozgad appears to be a healthy hill resort and I have kept splendid health throughout. My only fear is the cold in winter which is said to be very severe here. Such clothing as I possess is thin drill, and ragged at that. I hope you have already sent off some warm things for me. Even in Kut I suffered severely from the cold at nights but a warm jacket sent me by Miss Penelope Ker kept me from absolutely freezing.

For the last fortnight I have had no letters. Previous to that your weekly postcard has

reached me regularly but up to date I have only had one postcard from Mair. Some officers are luckier and get half a dozen at a time. It also seems possible to write a decently long letter through the American Consul at Berne. Ask about it.

I have now been nearly ten months without any good reading matter. Books have to

be sent from the publishers I believe. I would like to study for the Final Bar examination if I could get the books. As things are I amuse myself with chess – a home made set, and the time passes pretty slowly.

I must reserve till we meet my experiences during the siege of Kut and on our long

trek after we were captured. The only thing that kept us going – in my case certainly – was the knowledge that every step was a yard nearer home. The last month at Kut was a nightmare of starvation and it was pitiful to see strong men dying of hunger. I kept very fit though weak on my pins.

I would like some photographs of Mair and the babies... [THE REST OF THE

LETTER IS MISSING]

Notes and hidden messages: 1. This letter is not dated but his description of his clothing being ‘thin drill and ragged

at that’ and that he had not yet experienced the Anatolian winter dates it in the second half of 1916. Since he refers to having received some mail already it would probably have been written a month or so after he arrived at Yozgad. September 1916 or early October 1916 would seem likely, particularly given his reference to being ‘nearly ten months without any good reading matter’. He also has clearly not mentioned before the end of Kut and the long trek to Yozgad.

126

Letter undated, likely September 1916 from Yozgad (continued) Notes and hidden messages: (continued):

2. In the penultimate paragraph Harry mentions both the strains of the ‘long trek’ to prisoner of war camps after the siege and surrender at Kut-el-Amara and the starvation levels reached at the end of the siege. One can see why Harry was ‘weak on my pins’ at the end of the siege. The weakness of the soldiers at the time of the surrender was a factor in their inability to stand the strain of the subsequent long march across Mesopotamia to prisoner of war and forced labour camps.

127

13.6 Postcard dated 12th October 1916 from Yozgad

128

Postcard dated 12th October 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his father) From: No 54. E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey

Contents:

All well, but weather beginning to get pretty cold. No parcels have reached me yet, but received Ten pounds (making eleven in all). Many thanks. I am glad my son is learning Latin, but the enquiries mentioned have not led to anything yet. However, I think Harry & his friends with the money they are getting will muddle through but for pity’s sake get Uncle Sam to help Gwas and Dynion and Tommy, and then I shall be easy in mind. Keep your tails up and give them all Hell with the lid off. E.H. Jones


1. The card contains coded messages. 2. The reference to his son learning Latin is again not clear (see postcard dated 3rd

August 1916) – his son was only just over nine months old at the time. There is clearly a message here but the passage of time makes it difficult to decipher.

3. The phrase ‘the enquiries mentioned have not led to anything yet’ probably refers to the enquiry mentioned in the coded reply that Harry received to his encrypted message in the postcard of 3rd August 1916 (see page 122).

4. ‘Harry and his friends and the money they are getting’ refers to himself and his fellow prisoners of war. ‘Get Uncle Sam to help Gwas and Dynion and Tommy’ means ‘get the US Ambassador in Baghdad to help the rank and file’ (‘Gwas’ in Welsh means ‘servant’ or ‘lad’ whilst ‘Dynion’ means ‘men’ and ‘Tommy’ is the usual slang for ‘infantryman’).

5. Here he is asking his family at home to please get help to the common soldiers and to be very heavy on those who have been mistreating them (‘give them all Hell with the lid off’).

6. The letter was acted upon by his father.

129

13.7 Postcard dated 26th October 1916 from Yozgad

(Reproduced by Courtesy of The National Archives, Kew)

130

Postcard dated 26th October 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones, The University, Glasgow, Scotland (his father). Redirected c/o Lieut. A.M. Jones, Northern Hospital, Leicester (Arthur Jones was a brother of Harry)

From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Received yours of 19th & 25th September. Heartiest congratulations to Jim on being awarded D.S.O. I am quite well. As I cannot write to all myself I want you to send Christmas greetings on my behalf to the following 5 O.N. Imewn, R.O. Ombach, L. Lawr, C. Arreg, and H.E.B. Gwelu. Also if you know their addresses to D’Onion Marw, F.E.L. Pryfid, A.R. Ford. The last I heard of poor D’Onion he was very ill & pitifully hard up. Keep on as you’re going – always merry and bright. Harry


1. The section ‘5 O.N. Imewn, R.O. Ombach, L. Lawr, C. Arreg, and H.E.B. Gwelu. Also if you know their addresses to D’Onion Marw, F.E.L. Pryfid, A.R. Ford. The last I heard of poor D’Onion he was very ill & pitifully hard up’ contains a coded message using Welsh words.

2. The Welsh words are as follows: ‘o’ = ‘of’; ‘ni’= ‘us’; ‘mewn’ = ‘in’; ‘bach’ = ‘small’; ‘llawr’ = ‘floor’; ‘carreg’ = ‘stone’; ‘heb’ = ‘without’; ‘gwely’ (misspelled) = ‘bed’; ‘dynion’ (phonetically spelled as a clue) = ‘men’; ‘marw’ = ‘dying’; ‘fel’ = ‘like/as’; ‘pryfed’ (misspelled) = ‘insect’; ‘ar’ = ‘on’; ‘ffordd’ (deliberately misspelled) = ‘road’.

3. Substituting these words gives the message ‘Five of us in a small room with a stone floor and no bed. The men are dying like insects on the road. The last I heard of the poor men they were very ill and pitifully hard up’.

4. This card and its embedded messages were acted upon in the UK. Major Sandes’ book In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division records that some of these coded messages were also shown to David Lloyd George, the then Prime Minister.

131

13.8 Postcard dated 9th November 1916 from Yozgad

132

Postcard dated 9th November 1916 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, The University, Glasgow, Scotland (re-addressed to Noddfa,

Tighnabruaich) (his father). The date is presumed November 1916 in view of the later January 1917 postmark.

From: Lt. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

I am well. No parcels yet, but I received a suit from Red Cross, also a set of underclothes. We now get regular walks and increased politeness. Heard from my wife last week. There seems to be an epidemic of marriages at home. Has C.H. With married Lilly yet? And what is L. Lawdeg’s position with regard to Nancy & Canol’s with regard to Q. Durward (I wish I had the Wizard of the North here). Are they together or apart? Keep merry and bright & stick at it. We all want you to make a clean job of it, once for all. Harry


1. This card contains a coded message which asks how the war on the Western front was going. Welsh words are used. ‘Chwith’ means ‘left’ and ‘canol’ means ‘centre’. Pronouncing ‘Llawdeg’ in Welsh sounds like ‘Llaw dde’ which means ‘right hand’. Substituting ‘Lille’ for ‘Lilly’, ‘St. Quentin’ for ‘Q’ and ‘Nancy’ for ‘Nancy’ gives: ‘Has the left front taken Lille, the centre of the front taken St. Quentin and the right hand front taken Nancy yet?’ By using ‘Q. Durward’ for ‘St. Quentin’ and adding the reference to The Wizard of the North (Sir Walter Scott) who wrote Quentin Durward it is believed that he is distracting the Turkish censor from the real meaning of ‘Q’ but there may be an additional message here.

2. The map below shows the position of the troop fronts in 1916.

133

13.9 Postcard dated 16th November 1916 from Yozgad

134

Postcard dated 16th November 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his father) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Am still in excellent health. Received £1 from mother. Thanks. Not very cold yet. Indeed it is quite pleasant in the sun. Don’t worry about me. I’m all right and as merry as a cricket. Yesterday we received more pay, so I have money. No parcels arrived yet. Don’t send any more for the present as there are plenty on the way. Don’t allow father to work too hard – sit on him mamsie! Glad to hear the business is prospering & hope you’ll have lots of trade this Xmas. Merry Xmas to you. Harry


1. The last sentence is interesting since Sir Henry Jones, being a professor, did not have a business. It is believed that ‘the business’ refers to negotiations to exchange prisoners and ‘the trade’ refers to exchanges themselves – in other words, Harry is ‘glad to hear that negotiations are taking place and hopes that prisoner exchanges will take place for Christmas’.

135

13.10 Letter dated 27th December 1916 from Yozgad

136

Letter dated 27th December 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

137


To: Mair Jones (his wife) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lt. No 54 Yozgad Turkey

Contents: My Dearest Wife,

We have had quite a jolly Christmas. We were given permission for a concert on Xmas night and our pantomime came off some time ago. As for our Xmas dinner we had soup, Turkey, artichokes and potatoes and a ‘plum pudding’, all of course, made by ourselves, and we wound up with tinned asparagus out of somebody’s parcel. There is no sickness in our camp now so we were all able to enjoy ourselves thoroughly. Next Xmas I hope the Commandant’s wish to us will be fulfilled and we shall all be together again. His greetings to us were received with tremendous cheering. Please send my sympathy to my aunt on Jim McIntosh being killed. And tell cousin Willie I’d be glad to hear from him again.

You must not feel at all anxious about us now. I have plenty of warm clothes to see me through the winter. Our food, which we cook ourselves, is simple but good and plentiful so we are all putting on weight. We have now plenty of money to buy things with, and when our books arrive (as I hope they will before long) we shall be as happy as it is possible for prisoners to be.

Give my love to Nain. I hope the Bronchial Pneumonia has long since left her – in your card of 22 Nov. you said it was getting better. Enid wrote me a long letter describing my two little babies – bless them. I hope you will be able to go up to Scotland with them for the summer, for they are a great boon to Enid. I am not surprised at your news of poor Boublie for when I last saw him he was extremely feeble and tired of life and I did not think he could last long then. It can only be the devotion of his nurses that has kept him going so long, poor fellow.

Amongst the prisoners here is one who knew my brother Jim very well in India – a Captain Gatherer. He wants me to send Jim his kindest regards – will you please do so?

I have just heard a thing that is of some importance to me. A lawyer here tells me the Inns of Court permit students at the Bar who are on active service to keep terms although unable to attend in London. Please ask father to see about this on my behalf. He should write to my own Inn (Middle Temple) and also to the Secretary to the Council of Legal Education, Inns of Court. It will make a big difference to me if it can be arranged that this concession be extended to my case, as I shall then be in a position to be called to the Bar at once, provided I pass the Final Exam. And if the Turkish Authorities permit me to receive the law books you are sending I can spend my time here in studying for the examination. I hope the censor will let this letter through. Be sure to let me know when you receive it.

I have nothing to add except what is always uppermost in my thoughts – my great love for you and our dear children and all the old folk at home. Be patient and full of hope. All will come out right in the end.

Au revoir, carissima. Your husband. Harry

138



1. ‘Nain’ is Welsh for ‘Granny’. Enid is Harry’s sister living in Scotland but ‘cousin Willie’ is unknown.

2. ‘Boublie’ (or ‘Bubbly’ which is used in other letters and cards) is believed to be a shortened form of ‘Bubblyjock’, a Scottish word for a turkey. Its use here would be a coded reference to ‘Turkey’, the country, and the shortened word ‘Boublie’ or ‘Bubbly’ a coded reference to a ‘Turk’. Major A.J. Anderson, Harry’s commanding officer at Kut, uses the word Bubblyjock in a letter home to his family (now in the Imperial War Museum) in which he says ‘I understand that Bubblyjocks are unwelcome anywhere’. This would therefore seem a fair interpretation of the words ‘Bubblyjock’, ‘Boublie’ and ‘Bubbly’. Harry’s mother Annie was Scottish and would know the word and guess the meaning.

3. With this interpretation of ‘Boublie’ as referring to ‘Turks’, Harry has clearly received a message from home saying the Turks are losing the war and he is verifying from his end. By ‘It can only be the devotion of his nurses that has kept him going so long’ he means ‘It is only with the support of the Germans that the Turks have been able to keep going’.

139

13.11 Postcard dated 28th December 1916 from Yozgad

140

Postcard dated 28th December 1916 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Sir Henry Jones, The University, Glasgow, Scotland, England [sic] (his father) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Dear Father, I have received up to date £31/- and three parcels. I have now plenty of money. Do not send any more parcels for present. All here are well, and we are now very comfortable. Please enquire and arrange on my behalf with the Inns of Court (Middle Temple) to have my army service counted towards keeping terms for the Bar Examination. This I believe is allowed by a new regulation. Let me know the result. All serene here. I am very sorry for poor Dynion. Help him on my behalf. Love to all. Harry


1. The only apparent coded message here is in the last line where he says that he is very concerned for the men (‘Dynion’) and asks his father to get help to them.

2. There is also an implication that parcels being sent were being siphoned off before getting to the prisoners.

141

13.12 Postcard dated 25th February 1917 from Yozgad

142

Postcard dated 25th February 1917 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Mrs E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor, North Wales, England [sic] (his wife) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut. I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Dearest, All merry & bright at this end. Yesterday I got two parcels from Noddfa & one from Medrox – some shortbread. The Noddfa parcels were dated Sept 2 and Nov 16. Still snowy here, with frost at night. I want photos of you and my little ones, also news of them and of Rhyfel. Bubbly is not very well, I think he’s got eating diabetes, for he seems unable to fill his tummy. Great love. Harry


1. The word ‘Rhyfel’ means ‘war’ in Welsh. He is asking for news of the war. 2. The phrase ‘Bubbly is not very well, I think he’s got eating diabetes, for he seems

unable to fill his tummy’ is likely to be a coded message. 3. With ‘Bubbly’ referring to ‘Turks’ (see notes following the letter dated 27th December

1916) the first part of the sentence, coming right after the request for war news, would appear to be a coded message that ‘Turkey was struggling’. The message in the second part of the sentence is not fully clear.

4. Noddfa and Medrox are both houses in Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland. Sir Henry Jones (Harry’s father) lived at Noddfa when he was Professor of Moral Philosophy at Glasgow University. The Road to En-dor, describing the escape from Yozgad, was written by Harry just after the war in the summer house at Noddfa and also in Medrox, located next door across the burn.

143

13.13 Postcard dated 25th March 1917 from Yozgad

144

Postcard dated 25th March 1917 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, Noddfa, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his

father) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

All well. Spring has come. Am lecturing again this week, subject taxation, and have been asked to redeliver lecture on Burmese Crime to senior officers’ camp on Sunday. Tell Uncle Hugh we tried the game described – I knew it before. Love to all and stick to it. Poor old Bubblu is dicky on his pins. Tell Jim and Arthur to write.


3. The phrase ‘Poor old Bubblu is dicky on his pins’ appears to be an embedded message. ‘Bubblu’ in Welsh is pronounced ‘Bubbly’. ‘Dicky on his pins’ means ‘is finding it hard to walk’ or ‘wobbly’. Following the code in his letter of 27th December 1916 (see notes following the letter) ‘Bubbly’ would be a coded reference to ‘Turks’ or ‘Turkey’ and this message would again be saying that ‘Turkey is wobbling’.

4. ‘Tell Uncle Hugh we tried the game described’ is referring to the Ouija Board for the first time. In the opening paragraph of The Road to En-dor he describes that he received a postcard from ‘a very dear aunt’ suggesting they try the Ouija Board for a pastime. She was Jean, née Roxburgh, the wife of Hugh Walker, Professor of English at Lampeter, his mother’s brother. Two of their daughters, Nea & Damaris Walker, had psychic abilities and conducted séances which, no doubt, prompted the suggestion from their mother. Nea Walker was secretary to Sir Oliver Lodge who was notable at the time for his experiments with psychical research and for publishing the book Raymond, which was based on extrasensory communication he had with his son, killed in action on 15th September 1915. The book is mentioned several times in The Road to En-dor and Harry had been sent a copy in Yozgad, giving it to Moїse (‘The Pimple’) Eskenaz to read.

145

13.14 Letter dated 15th November 1917 from Yozgad

146

Letter dated 15th November 1917 from Yozgad (continued)

147


To: Mair Jones (his wife) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lt. No 54 Yozgad Turkey

Contents: Dearest, You will get a letter a week henceforth, until further notice, for we are allowed to write three a week instead of one & 2 postcards a fortnight, so I hope to be able to work off some of the people who have written to me.

As usual I am without news – our life is not very eventful. We are beginning to work on a Xmas pantomime, but I take no part this year. I declined because I keep myself fairly busy with chess, reading & writing. Last year, I think I told you, I was the ‘Good Fairy’ – rather a bulky and unwieldy one!

The weather is still extraordinarily warm, and we can sit out in the garden and read all day. But I expect a cold snap soon & we have got our stove ready and our winter supply of fuel housed.

Letters have been arriving very spasmodically of late. I got a good big mail a fortnight ago but since then I have had no luck. Last week I wrote to Prospero. This week I shall write to Miss Mahler.

Now with regard to money. I told you some time ago to stop sending it. You may begin again on receipt of this but please note to send only through the Central Prisoners of Wars Committee which has its headquarters I believe in London.

When you send out your Xmas cards this year include my remembrances to all our friends and don’t forget old Bwyd who is very dear to me. I don’t know what’s happened to Mrs Blawd – I have no means of finding out if she is interred in Turkey, but I expect the War Office could help you. She isn’t here, anyway, and you can be sure that wherever she is she is well treated.

Great love to all of you. I am daily expecting the photograph you promised me. My little corner of the room looks quite decorative with the ones I’ve got, but there is not a single nice one of you amongst all the snapshots.

Kiss Bevan & Jean for their Daddy. He’d like to, fine, & he will, before long, he hopes.

Your sweetheart for ever Harry

Notes and hidden messages: 1. ‘Bwyd’ and ‘Blawd’ are Welsh words for ‘food’ and ‘flour’ respectively. It appears that

Harry is telling his wife that food packages being sent to them, which they really welcome, are not getting through and are being stolen en route in Turkey. In The Road to En-dor he confirms that Turkish officers at the Yozgad camp were implicit in this theft.

148


Notes and hidden messages (continued):

2. ‘Last week I wrote to Prospero’ is interesting. Two days prior to writing this letter, after a séance held on 13th November 1917, Harry had slipped calomel into Moїse’s (the camp interpreter’s) drink causing him violent diarrhoea – a manifestation from the ‘Spook’ and frightening Moїse. Prospero, the usurped Duke of Milan in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, had magic powers and, in Ariel, a spirit helper, a supernatural spirit controlled completely by Prospero and used to manipulate those around him as part of a plot to achieve a happy ending. The analogy with Harry (as Prospero) and the ‘Spook’ (as Ariel) is obvious but it is uncertain whether Mair or Harry’s father, Sir Henry, would fully understand.

149

13.15 Letter dated 22nd November 1917 from Yozgad

150

Letter dated 22nd November 1917 from Yozgad (continued)

151


To: Mrs E.H. Jones (his wife), Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War No 54. Yozgad, Turkey

Contents: My Darling Wife, I have nothing to tell you except that I am well, and am counting the days until we meet again. Can our little son talk yet? You’ve never told me, you know, and he seems very slow compared with Jean. She talked at a year old, didn’t she? When ought they to begin? I’m such an ignorant devil about these things, & the misery of it all is I am missing my chance of learning all about them. When I get back I shall be the most ignorant father in Europe.

But I’m not an ignorant husband, am I carissima? When I’ve finished my daily ‘think’ about the children I switch back on to my mainstay. Sometimes she’s in pigtails, sitting on the study floor with me (damn the censor! I don’t mind if he does know), & sometimes she is waiting in the shadow of Tryfan for a lad that’s been pedalling twenty miles to meet her, and sometimes she is just the grey wall of a nursing home in Glasgow, but most often she is sitting opposite me across the table, with soft candlelight between, and smiling at me through her weariness. Mair, if you ever pretend to know better than I in future, if you ever refuse to go to the hills when you ought to, you’ll deserve to be haunted by all the bad dreams I get about it. But now that you have two young Joneses to look after as well as me perhaps you will be more careful of your dear self.

And till we meet, there is this separation. If the whole world were not in tears, I would be, but in a weeping world we must be cheery, you & I. You must ‘laugh and grow fat’, carissima mea, and when the war is over we shall have another honeymoon, and once more we’ll watch the sunsets from the Ridge, and float up the golden Irrawaddy, you & I. Beloved, be good to yourself – that is all I ask and all I want of you. That you will be brave and patient, and all watchful over our bairns I know, but I also want you to look after the dearer half of myself and I sometimes fear that is your hardest task. You hold my all in the hollow of your hand, anwylid, so be kind to yourself.

I kiss your hands Your sweetheart for ever

Harry

Notes and hidden messages: 1. ‘Tryfan’ is a mountain in Snowdonia where Mair grew up. 2. The ‘Ridge’ is the ridge at Moulmein (now Mawlamyine) in Burma (now Myanmar).

Moulmein is situated in Lower Burma and was Burma’s capital city. It is, today, the third largest city in Burma. It is approximately 300 kilometres south east of Rangoon (now Yangon) and lies on the sea at the mouth of the Thanlwin (Salween) River. Moulmein is famous in Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘Mandalay’ which has the lines:

By the old Moulmein pagoda Lookin’ lazy at the sea There’s a Burma girl a-settin’ And I know she thinks o’ me

152



The Ridge was obviously a favourite place for Harry and Mair. It lies in the eastern part of town and runs in a north–south direction. It is the location of many pagodas and Buddhist monasteries. The ridge looks west across the Thanlwin River and Bilu Island and would have been where Harry and Mair watched the sunsets.

3. ‘Anwylid’ (correctly spelled ‘anwylyd’) is Welsh, meaning ‘darling’. 4. This is a lovely letter from Harry and is included since it shows his deep affection for

Mair, who by now he has not seen for two and a half years.

153

13.16 Letter dated 29th November 1917 from Yozgad

154


155


To: Mrs E.H. Jones (his wife), Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales From: 2nd Lieut. E.H. Jones, Prisoner of War No 54. Yozgad Turkey

Contents: My Darling, I got two letters (Oct 7th and Sept 10th) from you this week, and in one you told me that Baby has suddenly begun to talk. I was delighted for I was beginning to think he would never begin. You had been to Cardiff and to Llanfairfechan. I hope both trips did you good. You must not wear yourself out over the children. Everyone who writes to me tells me they are as sturdy as little pine trees, and I know all about your devoted mothering of them. If you are not looking fat and strong and more of a girl than ever when I get home, I promise you the first thing I shall do will be to wallop both those kids for over-driving their mother. There!

I mentioned in my last letter that the best way to send money is through the Central Committee for Prisoners of War, & not as you have been doing. I have sent some cheques to Constantinople to be changed for me, but it takes time and it is well to have a reserve so the £10 a month from home will come in useful. But don’t send more than £10 a month and send it through the central committee.

Have you any news of Rhyfel? I have not heard of him for a long time and would be glad of a note or two about him.

I hope you have all the money you need. You know that I have told my bankers to honour your cheques, don’t you?

Don’t think of me as a prisoner. Imagine I have come to Yozgad for my health – I could not be in a finer climate – and that I am enjoying myself at winter sports in the snow – & be happy.

Great love to all my dear ones

Your sweetheart Harry


1. ‘Rhyfel’ is Welsh for ‘war’. He is asking for news of the war without alerting the Turkish censor.

2. In November and December 1917 (during the course of the letters on these pages) Harry slowly tried, as he put it, to get the camp commandant Kiazim Bey to ‘rise to the fly’. Much patience was needed on Harry’s part as this did not happen until early 1918, months after the inception of his plan.

3. Building on his plans for deception, Harry developed the ideas of the buried treasure during this period and planned to recruit the help of Cedric. He achieved this initially by becoming Cedric’s co-conspirator in developing a method of faking telepathy and thought transfer using a coded system. This system is still in use by conjurers today (see Appendix in The Road to En-dor).

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4. With the help of the ‘Spook’, Harry was able to get Moїse to allow Cedric, who was in a different prison house, to become a co-medium on the Ouija board – but this was not accomplished until 6th February 1918 – almost one year to the day since Harry had started experimenting with ‘talking to spooks’ and five months after he started to devise his escape plans. As someone who had already tried to escape, but who also had great skills as a conjuror, Cedric was the perfect co-conspirator.

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13.17 Letter dated 15th December 1917 from Yozgad

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Contents: My Dearest Wife, Another week of this weary war has gone past, and there is nothing to chronicle at this end except that I received three parcels from England which included a pair of boots, so I am set up in footgear for another six months & more. One of the parcels was from Miss Mahler containing chocolate, sweets and toffee – posted in January – please thank her for it. The other two were posted in January and in May, both from you.

I am still unfortunate in the matter of letters and have not heard from you recently. But I manage to dream of you and when dreams fail I can hark back on memories, and they are sweet enough to keep me happy and contented with my lot. I often re-live our meeting at Mygyaungye, after you had been to stay with Mrs Leach, and our 30 mile journey over the sand to our first home in the East.

Do you remember how my own downtrodden subjects met you with torches, beloved? Forget the war, heart of my heart, and remember only that when I get back to my work in the East the people will love me and greet you as they have done in the past. We shall yet walk together in the gorgeous red of the Eastern sunset along the ridge in Moulmein, and tread the echoing pavements of some hill top monastery in the cool of the evening; we can strike the Buddhist Bell with the deer’s antler, and pray there together, hand in hand, while it rings in our Christian ears, that there may be no more strife or war or misery on earth and that we may never be separated again, you and I best beloved.

I beseech you, my dearest, to remain ever as you have been, steadfast and full of courage. Be to my children what you have always been to me, a brave beacon pointing always the way to victory and duty. Bless you & bless you & bless you –

I kiss your hands, sweetheart wife of mine, Harry


1. This letter is another illustration of the love that Harry has for Mair. 2. It is interesting to note that a parcel mailed in January did not arrive until December,

eleven months later. The food that it contained was unlikely to be in the condition in which it was sent.

3. Mygyaungye is a town on the Irrawaddy River in Upper Burma. Harry and Mair travelled there, first leaving by train on 7th October 1913 from Rangoon to Prome (now Pyay) on the Irrawaddy and then by boat via Thayetmo (now Thayet). From there, Harry went on alone, travelling further north to Magwe before doubling back to Mygyaungye. Mair followed a week later. They met again in Mygyaungye on 17th October 1913 and left by bullock cart to Taungdwingyi.

4. The journey from Mygyaungye to Taungdwingyi was clearly one which held romantic associations for Harry and Mair. In Mair’s journal she talks of the journey thus:

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Well, we bumped along that 33 miles in fine style22. In the mornings and evenings we walked. There was nothing to be seen but secret jungle on either side and Harry marching along with his sleeves rolled up & his butter-scotch arms a-swinging. I got on to his back to cross a bog ’cos my shoes were too big & they would keep getting left behind. We took two days to get here, stopping a night at a dâk bungalow23 on the way. We didn’t see any animals, only their footmarks. It was dark when we got here and two torchbearers met us just outside & brought us here & we’ve been here a fortnight now. It is very beautiful & very green & very peaceful. The crows talk all day in the trees round the verandah & now & then a pagoda bell sounds from far away, or a bullock cart comes creaking. This is all one hears in the day. In the evening there are more sights & more sounds & then I sally forth for an hour or two, either with Harry or Tun Hlaing.

5. Here again Harry refers to the sunsets from the ridge at Moulmein and the pagodas and monasteries that lie along the ridge where, presumably, they rang the Buddhist Bell with the deer’s antler.

22 In bullock carts 23 A dâk bungalow is a bungalow built of wood often on stilts in the Burmese fashion. They were erected by the government on roads for travellers to use. The word ‘dâk’ is Urdu and means a stage or stopping point on the road. Dâk bungalows are referred to frequently by Kipling.

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13.18 Letter dated 6th January 1918 from Yozgad

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Letter dated 6th January 1918 from Yozgad (continued)

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Letter dated 6th January 1918 from Yozgad (continued)

To: Mrs E.H. Jones (his wife), Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. I.A.R. Prisoner of War No 54. Yozgad Turkey

Contents: My Dear Wife, I am still longing to hear from you and am expecting news every day for it is a couple of months since your last letter came. Nor have I heard from father in that time. I trust and believe all is well with you and the children, and the old people at home, and I hope that before the end of this new year has come I shall be with you all again. Heaven knows how I long to see you all again, but I would rather stay here all my life, if it means ensuring a permanent peace for my children and my children’s children – much rather – than go home tomorrow. I know you hoped we should be together this last Christmas, but you must be of good cheer. Stick tight to the great principles we saw so clearly at the first and carry on. It is your duty, as it is mine, to be as bright and happy as we can be, and to wait. For myself I have nothing to complain of. Gallup, Davern and I share a room amongst the three of us, and are far from uncomfortable on our packing case chairs & box beds. The ingenuity shown by officers in making their furniture has been extraordinary, and we have been complimented on it by inspectors who come round occasionally.

The weather is wintry, but not unpleasant. The whole country is white with snow. When we get out we take our home made toboggans & skis and enjoy ourselves on a hillside outside the town. I only wish we had such a bracing climate in India, and I am sure my stay here will reinvigorate me for my future work in Burma. Go thou and do likewise, beloved, and get strong and hearty. Kiss my children for me. Bless my soul! Bevan is two years old now, toddling and speaking, and I have never seen him! I hope he is like his mother. His hair is lovely – I got the bit you sent.

Your loving husband Harry.


1. Gallup and Davern were Lieutenant H.C. Gallup, R.F.A. and Lieutenant F.B. Davern, R.F.A., both prisoners of war with Harry in Yozgad.

2. It was shortly after this card was written that Harry teamed up with Cedric Hill and started the series of séances and experiments with telepathy that were eventually to lead to their escape. The letters and cards that follow this one contain coded messages about the web of intrigue that Harry describes in The Road to En-dor, including the deliberate imprisonment for telepathy, the search for treasure left by Armenians who had died at the hands of the Turks (a search which was designed to take them to the coast in pursuit of clues from where they could escape) and the actual scheme of escape itself.

3. The postcards and the codes they contain from here on, until they stopped (by order of the ‘Spook’) at the end of March 1918, track the events taking place at the Ouija Board and are referred to in detail in the séance diaries kept by Harry and Cedric which still exist.

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13.19 Letter dated 25th February 1918 from Yozgad

165

Letter dated 25th February 1918 from Yozgad (continued)

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Contents: My darling, All is well with me and I have everything I want, and the Turks are as kind and considerate as it is possible to imagine. Between French, Spanish, Economics and other studies I keep myself very busy; and we have a little côterie here who are keenly interested in telepathy & thought reading & psychical research generally. Of these I am one of the chief. Bubblu was once keenly interested in the subject, so you might write and tell him what we are doing. I remember how at his request I once went to Chwilio-am-Cyfoeth, to a funny old house which was reputed to be haunted, and sat up all night looking and watching for a ghost! That was before we were married & I don’t think I ever confessed it to you before! Old B. always considered me to be psychic and was very keen for me to experiment with him. His attentions at times were almost too pressing. So tell him what I am amusing myself with now – it will interest the old fellow.

Beyond news of my health, & of what I am doing there is little to speak about except the weather. Snow still lies heavily on the ground, and the skiers go out regularly and have glorious days on the hillsides. For me, alas, those days are over. As I told you the injury to my knee will keep me from any more skiing this winter. The knee is still weak & stiff. Doctor tells me I wrenched loose a small flake of bone, & strained a muscle. But I can hobble around all right, and I have a bottle of embrocation which I use night and morning.

This week I am ‘Mary’ again. That is to say I am responsible for the meals and the domestic work of our mess generally. I am also in charge of the washing. You see what a very useful member of the household I shall be when I get home again! Considering the practice I have had you ought to be able to run our modest establishment without any difficulty.

Your photograph is charming, my dear, & has a place of honour beside those of the children over my bed. By the same mail I got a letter from Harry Lias, in which he tells me he is not going to Rhedeg after all as his injury prevents him. It is a pity, for I know he was looking forward to a holiday and a bit of hunting but he seems quite happy about it & says he is making other plans to have an enjoyable holiday with his family if he can persuade his medical attendant to let him take the journey to Glanymor. I hope he is better by the time you get this letter, but I fear from what he says that it will take a long time.

Keep in touch with Uncle Hugh and Miss Mahler and all my old friends. Great love to you and Kiss the children for me.

Your loving husband, E.H. Jones


1. In this letter Harry refers to the séances that they are conducting as ‘telepathy and thought reading and psychical research’ and that he is a leading proponent (‘one of the chief’).

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2. ‘Chwilio-am-Cyfoeth’ is Welsh for ‘search for riches’. ‘Bubblu’ (which would be pronounced Bubbly in Welsh) is thought to mean the ‘Turk’ – from Bubblyjock, Scottish for a turkey – as does ‘Old B’ (see notes following the letter of 27th December 1916). In this case the Turk is thought to be camp commandant Kiazim Bey. Harry is therefore saying that Kiazim Bey sees him as a psychic, has requested Harry to ‘search for riches’ and is ‘keen to experiment with him’ – i.e. ‘to search for treasure’.

3. ‘Rhedeg’ is Welsh for ‘run’. Earlier in the letter he has described that he has hurt his knee. Here he is telling his wife that he has decided not to make his previous planned escape across country on skis (due to his leg being injured). ‘Harry Lias’ is himself (Elias Henry) and, by using this inverted form of his own name, he is telling his wife to look for the hidden message.

4. In the second part of that sentence he is also telling his wife that he hopes to escape a different way – namely, by persuading the Turks to take him to the sea. This is in the phrase ‘he is making other plans to have an enjoyable holiday with his family if he can persuade his medical attendant to let him take the journey to Glanymor’ (‘glan y mor’ means ‘sea-side’ in Welsh). He finally adds that he fears this ‘will take a long time’.

5. This incident of his change of plan from a physical escape across country in winter with skis to an escape by subterfuge using the control they have with the Ouija board is described in The Road to En-dor.

6. This postcard ties in with events as described in the séance diaries. On 2nd February 1918, Harry and Cedric had given their first demonstration of telepathy at a camp concert and, in the evening, Harry set up Moїse, the camp interpreter, with the story of treasure buried by a murdered Armenian. Moїse fell for this and Harry, through the Ouija board, started to take over the camp.

7. On 6th February 1918, Harry and Cedric (through Harry manipulating Moїse) had their first séance together as mediums and the escape plan got properly underway.

8. When this postcard was written the second séance had been held on 17th February 1918. This was the séance which, through Cedric’s sleight of hand, saw the manifestation of the letter which resulted in Harry and Cedric being jailed for telepathy.

9. The third séance, instructing Moїse to read Sir Oliver Lodge’s Book Raymond and setting up the jailing offence, had also been held (20th February 1918).

10. On 25th February 1918, the date of this letter, Harry, Cedric and Moїse held their fourth séance which developed the timing of the plan.

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13.20 Postcard dated 3rd March 1918 from Yozgad

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Postcard dated 3rd March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his father) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Received a card from my wife dated 6th January, & one from Tendia, & I received also a letter from dear old Bubbles who is pressing me very hard to commence hard work in law. I ought (and must) arrange useful reading. ‘Common Law’ – a damnably dry uninteresting book – arrived a few days ago. So tell B. I am ready to begin with the warm weather. I am quite well. Love to all at home. Harry

Notes and hidden messages: 1. The word ‘Tendia’ is the imperative of ‘tendio’ (‘to watch’, ‘to take care’ in Welsh)

and means ‘watch’, ‘take care’, indicating that there is a hidden message buried in the card that must be deciphered. The encrypted message is as follows.

2. The reference to ‘Bubbles’ is again presumed to be short for ‘Bubblyjock’, a Scottish word for a turkey. ‘Bubbles’ by inference is therefore taken to mean ‘Turks’ (see notes following the letter of 27th December 1916).

3. There is a coded message in the phrase ‘commence hard work in law. I ought (and must) arrange useful reading. “Common Law” – a damnably dry uninteresting’. Taking the initial letters of each word spells out ‘Chwilio am aur claddu’ which is the Welsh for ‘Search for buried gold’ – the incident described in The Road to En-dor.

4. Putting the two together: ‘I received also a letter from dear old Bubbles who is pressing me very hard to commence hard work in law. I ought (and must) arrange useful reading. “Common Law” – a damnably dry uninteresting’ is stating ‘I have received orders from the Turks to search for buried gold’.

5. Although Harry and Cedric were still waiting for Colonel Maule’s letter to be posted they were continuing to work on the plan to embroil the camp commandant in a search for the Armenian treasure and Harry was relaying this home to his family as part of the indictment of the camp commandant, to be verified by photographic evidence (as described in The Road to En-dor).

6. Three days after sending this letter home, on 6th March 1918, Harry and Cedric were summoned by the camp commandant Kiazim Bey to the carefully arranged ‘trial’ for communicating war news by telepathy, following which they were confined to separate quarters in the building known as ‘The Colonels’ House’.

7. Harry and Cedric were moved to The Colonels’ House on 7th March 1918. Two days later they had their first séance there, designed to draw the camp Commandant in further.

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Postcard dated 13th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Mrs E.H. Jones, Brynkynallt, Bangor N. Wales, England [sic] (his wife) (re-addressed

to c/o Lady Jones, Noddfa, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

My dear wife. No news except that I am well and have left my old mess to chum with Lieutenant Hill of the Flying Corps. We have a comfortable room in another house, and have been here since March 7th. To ensure smooth running in our new mess, we play at being Boy Scouts, that is to say we bind ourselves to do at least one Act of Kindness a day. Hill has got well ahead of me with a dozen to his credit while I have only five. But I’ll light the stove tomorrow which will be one extra! Great Fun! Harry

Notes and hidden messages: 1. This is the first reference to Cedric – Lieutenant C.W. (Cedric Waters) Hill of the Flying

Corps. It was with Lieutenant Hill that Harry contrived the Ouija board subterfuge which enabled both of them to escape. The move from the mess to separate quarters was all part of that escape plan as described in The Road to En-dor.

2. Harry and Cedric were instructed by the ‘Spook’ during the séance of 9th March 1918 to write that they were ‘together in a very comfortable house’. This message is contained in this card. Harry knew that the Turks would act on the ‘Spook’s’ orders, thereby giving priority to sending Harry’s letters home and unknowingly helping his coded messages to get through. In The Road to En-dor, Harry writes that the scheme worked, with each letter being sent ‘by first mail after it was written – a good fortnight ahead of those of the rest of the camp’.

3. Harry writes that every letter sent home at that time ‘was loud in its praises of the Turks but the eulogies contained a very pretty cipher which informed our friends at home of our absurd conviction and asked for an enquiry’. This card should therefore be carefully scrutinised.

4. It is believed that the message in the card is as follows. The reference to ‘Boy Scouts’ is code for ‘Be Prepared’, the motto of the Boy Scouts, but here saying a message is coming. The words ‘Act’, ‘twelve’ and ‘five’ in the following text, otherwise incongruous, can be interpreted to mean Acts XII, verse 5 which says ‘Peter therefore was kept in prison: but prayer was made without ceasing of the Church unto God for him’. This, combined with the word ‘bind’, meant that they were in jail, as conveyed in other cards. The reference to the ‘one extra’ probably points to the next verse, which includes the words ‘the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains: and the keepers before the door kept the prison’.

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Postcard dated 13th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) Notes and hidden messages (continued):

5. The card was written on 13th March 1918 (it is postmarked in Bangor, North Wales 12th May 1918) but has a handwritten date of ‘13/3/16’. The use of ‘16’ instead of ‘18’ in the date is unlikely to be a mistake by Harry. It is believed to refer to Acts XVI, which contains the story of the imprisonment of Paul and Silas (for which read Harry and Cedric) and their subsequent release by their captors (a perfect analogy for Harry and Cedric’s escape plan). Harry repeated this analogy (see the postcard dated 16th March 1918), this time referring specifically to Paul and Silas.

6. On the day Harry wrote this postcard, he and Cedric held the second séance in The Colonels’ House during which the ‘Spook’ gave instructions to reduce their diet. The hidden objective was to make them lose weight to give them the gaunt expressions of men ‘under control’, slowly going mad. The beginnings of the ‘science’ of thought transmission were planted at this séance. Cedric also pickpocketed (and returned) Moїse’s private questions to enable Harry to formulate the answers at the next séance, held the following day.

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Postcard dated 15th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, The Professor of Moral Philosophy, Glasgow University, Glasgow,

Scotland, England, N.B [sic] (re-directed to Medrox, Tighnabruaich) From: Capt. C.B. Mundey, 1st Oxf: Bucks: Light Infantry, Prisoner of War Yozgad, Turkey.

No 35

Contents:

Hope you are well. Have asked Lang Preston, Rington, Inglesbury Suffolk on no few occasions rectify the entries left. Enfield portion assigned to Harris Young. You had better look into it. I never trusted wee Devon when I knew him at Duke Street. We are all well, longing to return home which I hope won’t be long a nice fishing trip again in Korkraik. Kind regards. Yrs C.B. Mundey

Notes and hidden messages: 1. The card is from Captain C.B. Mundey who was a good friend of Harry’s in Yozgad. He

is described in The Road to En-dor as being the camp’s ‘Champion Cryptogrammist’. Captain Mundey was a participant in the early séances run by Harry and was an early ‘believer’.

2. The ‘N.B.’ at the end of the address indicates the card is coded. The code is part of Harry’s first escape plan – to get a message to the British Government that he has been wrongfully imprisoned. The initial letters of the sentences ‘Have asked Lang Preston, Rington, Inglesbury Suffolk on no few occasions rectify the entries left. Enfield portion assigned to Harris Young’ spells out ‘Hal prison for telepathy’. The next sentence asks Sir Henry to investigate.

3. Harry was hoping an enquiry would secure their release and Captain Mundey would have sent this card at Harry’s request. Other similar coded messages were sent (see the postcard dated 20th March 1918). The coded messages got through but the War Office in London decided not to act on the information – they said it was too dangerous to interfere, for Harry’s and Cedric’s sakes.

4. The words ‘I never trusted wee Devon when I knew him at Duke Street’ probably contain a message but this remains obscure.

5. ‘Korkraik’, a misspelling of ‘Kawkereik’, is a town in Lower Burma where Harry worked before the war. It is located east of Moulmein (now Mawlamyine) near the border with Thailand. Exactly why it is included in this postcard from Captain Mundey is uncertain though its inclusion probably points to another message from Harry. There is a river running through Kawkereik but the reference to fishing, especially by Captain Mundey, is odd.

6. The night before this card was written, on 14th March 1918, the third séance in The Colonels’ House was held. This was an important séance which explained the ‘science’ of thought transfer in detail, introduced the new spook ‘OOO’ as an enemy agent and prevented Moїse, through his lack of knowledge of Armenian, from learning the location of the buried treasure – thereby setting up the means by which Harry and Cedric could induce the Turks to take them to the coast from where they could escape.

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7. This escape included kidnapping the camp Commandant Kiazim Bey, the camp interpreter Moїse and Kiazim Bey’s orderly, the cook, as part of the plan. Wild as it seems, this was entirely feasible and Harry and Cedric came very close to achieving it. The plan involved taking Lieutenant A.B. Matthews, who was working with Harry and Cedric by developing the necessary navigation instruments for the sea voyage. It was, however, inadvertently thwarted in mid-April 1918 when Captain Mundey, suspecting foul play on the part of the Turks, took action which he thought was in Harry and Cedric’s interests but which meant that they had to abandon their escape plan and adopt a new plan. Harry refers to him as ‘X’ in The Road to En-dor.

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Postcard dated 16th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, Noddfa, Tighnabruaich, Argyll, Scotland, England [sic] (his father) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Dear Father, I am in excellent health. My friend Lieut. C.W. Hill R.F.C. and I have now formed a little mess of our own, and we get on together very well. We live together and are lucky to have a very nice room in a very comfortable house. Love to mother and Paul and Silas. Like them I long for anything – even an earthquake – to swallow up the warring nations and let me home again. Harry


1. As required by the ‘Spook’ in The Road to En-dor the card contains the message that ‘they are very comfortable’.

2. However, the card also contains a subtle hidden message telling Harry’s father not only that he and C.W. Hill were about to escape but also a clue as to how. The reference to Paul and Silas is to the apostle Paul and his close follower Silas, described in the Bible. The parallels between the story of Paul and Silas and the story of Jones and Hill are remarkable fact and it is believed that Harry was using that fact to try to get a message to his father about their planned escape from Yozgad.

3. According to Acts 16:16–34, on Paul’s second journey from Jerusalem he and Silas travelled to Philippi which is now in modern-day eastern Greece. There they rescued a slave girl who was possessed by spirits that enabled her to tell the future. As a follower of Christ, Paul cleansed her of these spirits but, for doing so, he and Silas were taken prisoner and thrown in jail. Whilst there a great earthquake (hence the mention of the earthquake in the postcard) ruptured the prison wall and broke their shackles, thereby giving them the opportunity to escape. However, they did not do so. The jailor was very impressed and, now seeing Paul and Silas as true believers, asked Paul, ‘What must I do to be saved?’ Paul replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, you and your household.’ The jailor was converted and, as a convert, let the two prisoners go.

4. Sir Henry Jones, Harry’s father, was Professor of Moral Philosophy at Glasgow University and would therefore be very familiar with the story above and would use the analogy with the story of Paul and Silas to deduce much of what was planned. The Turkish censor, of course, assumed that ‘Paul and Silas’ were part of Harry’s family given the context.

5. Like Paul and Silas, Harry and C.W. Hill had trekked across modern-day Syria and Turkey (albeit not so far as Greece), had been thrown in jail, had shown themselves to be true ‘believers’ (albeit in relation to the ‘Spook’), were involved in predicting the future and banishing evil spirits and had rejected offers for an easier time (in order to put the Turks off the scent). The jailors (in this case the Turks) were wholly taken in by the belief and powers they appeared to hold, became themselves converted and let them go of their own choice.

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6. One month after the postcard was written (on 26th April 1918) the Turks voluntarily sent Jones and Hill to Constantinople, a step towards setting them free, exactly as in the Paul and Silas analogy.

7. This card also ties with the next, sent four days later, which contains the coded message ‘Locked up for Telepathy’. Sir Henry would have known from the Paul and Silas analogy that something was about to happen and an escape was on the cards.

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Postcard dated 20th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Sir Henry Jones, Noddfa, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his

father) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Received your postcard of 4th January. Am sorry to hear you can find no time to look after my little place at Ofalus. Can’t Alfred undertake it for you now you are munitionmaking [sic]? Tell Educationoffice [sic] last educational parcel arrived. They have your orders, I hope, to send some more educational books this year. I am well, but have no news. As I told you in my last letter I and Hill are now together – very comfortable. Your son E.H. Jones


1. The word ‘Ofalus’ means ‘careful’ in Welsh – it indicates read carefully, a coded message follows.

2. Reading the first letters of the subsequent words ‘Can’t Alfred undertake it for you now you are munitionmaking [N.B. one word] Tell Educationoffice [N.B. one word] last educational parcel arrived. They have your’ spells out the words ‘Cau i fyny am Telepathy’ which is Welsh for ‘Locked up for Telepathy’, basically the same message sent by Captain Mundey eight days earlier and part of one of Harry’s plots to secure their release (see the postcard dated 15th March 1918 from Captain Mundey).

3. The fourth séance in The Colonels’ House had been held on 16th March 1918 but no records have survived – basically to protect the dignity of Moїse. They were purportedly burned by Moїse on orders from the Spook. At that séance, Harry and Cedric set Moїse up with a ‘beautiful lady’ in Yozgad which, as Harry said in the séance diaries, ‘makes one all fizzy-wizzy in the pooh-bah’. This was playing on Moїse’s vanities and was set up in response to Moїse’s private questions which Cedric had pickpocketed on 13th March 1918.

4. The fifth séance in The Colonels’ House, a short séance in which Moїse revealed the transfer of prisoners from Changri, had been held on 18th March 1918.

5. The sixth séance in The Colonels’ House, an important séance, had been held on 19th March 1918. In it the ‘Spook’ described the origin of the ‘treasure’ and the secret of the three clues. Using the aggression of enemy ‘spooks’ as a foil, Harry and Cedric also managed to trap Moїse into believing the ‘Spook’ could not reveal the names of those who held the clues to the treasure.

6. On 26th March 1918, the date of the postcard, the seventh séance in The Colonels’ House took place, at which Harry used the ‘Spook’ to dictate a speech to be given by the commandant at a dinner of the officers’ Ski Club and thus draw him even more into the ‘Spook’s’ power.

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13.25 Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad

182

Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued)

183


To: Sir Henry Jones (his father) From: E.H. Jones, 2nd Lieut. I.A.R. Prisoner of War No 54. Yozgad Turkey

Contents: My Dear Father, Of late your letters have not been very fortunate in getting to me, but by last mail I got two cheery little notes from mother. I know she must be very anxious about Jim and Arthur and I am glad she need feel no anxiety on my behalf. There is more cause to be anxious about you, but you overstrain yourself with your work. Be careful of yourself, Father dear. Why not go with dear old Bryn and Tadbevan to Cauifyny this spring? I had a letter from the former in which he said he hoped to get some good fishing. I know they would like to be with you, if you would go.

I want you to send me a book called ‘The Criminal and the Community’. I can’t remember the name of the author but Bryn knows him – in fact he was staying with him, he says, when he wrote to me. He mentioned the book to me as an able study of criminal law.

The winter here is now nearly over. We passed the long evenings pleasantly enough. A little coterie formed a psychic research section which kept us amused. We began, curiously enough, on the advice of an old classmate of yours – I think he won the Caird Medal in your year – who got hold of my address and wrote to me. We met with surprising success, and were much interested, and I shall show you our results when I get home. The ‘spook’ sometimes gave us ‘war news’ of a fantastic character, sometimes we had conversations with the famous dead.

Dynarachos is the address Mair asked for – at least it was where Jack lived before the war but he may now be ‘somewhere in France’ for all I know.

I think I told you that Lieutenant Hill and I have formed a little mess by ourselves, ‘far from the madding crowd’ as the song goes. We are very lucky in having got a nice room, & good quarters. He is an excellent fellow to chum with and we get along splendidly together. He is an Australian. His only ‘grouse’ is that he will have no job when the war ends, so would you see what you can do for him? Will you try your best? And while you are about it you might see if you can do anything for me too. If Germany wins the war she will probably bag India and I’ll lose my job there.

We hear some more prisoners are coming to Yozgad. It will be interesting to meet them – they are mostly Kut men, we are told – and to swap experiences after our two years’ separation.

I hope you will all keep as cheerful as I am myself. The arrival of some more educational books – real good ones, this time ‘Odgers’ Common Law of England’ and two others equally useful – will give me plenty to do this summer. Many thanks for them. And rest assured that I do not intend to let myself stagnate here. I shall keep my brain occupied. So don’t you worry about me. Just keep on being cheerful and happy.

By the way, you mention you have been sending Ten Pounds a month since August. It has not yet reached me. Please enquire at your end.

Love to all.

Your son, Harry

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Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) Notes and hidden messages:

1. In this letter Harry is telling his father that he and Cedric plan to escape and explaining their plans for doing so. His father, when reading this letter in conjunction with the hidden messages in other mail written at that time, would have a pretty good idea that something was afoot and that séances and hoodwinking were very much part of the escape plan.

2. ‘Be careful of yourself, Father dear’ is in instruction to his father to pay attention (‘be careful’) when reading the next sentences. The word ‘Bryn’ means ‘hill’ in Welsh whilst ‘Tadbevan’ means ‘father of Bevan’. ‘Bryn’ is referring to C.W. Hill (his co-conspirator) and ‘Tadbevan’ refers to himself (his son Bevan was born in January 1916). The Welsh words ‘Cau i fyny’ mean ‘close up’. The phrase ‘Bryn and Tadbevan to Cauifyny this spring?’ is therefore saying that ‘he and Hill are to close up this spring, i.e. that he and Hill will be closing their escape plan soon. ‘I had a letter from the former in which he said he hoped to get some good fishing. I know they would like to be with you’ is saying that they are aiming to get to the sea (given by the use of the word ‘fishing’) from where they can more easily get away. This plan is described in detail in The Road to En-dor.

3. He continues. The words ‘Dyna’r achos’ in Welsh mean ‘That is the reason/cause’. Here he is saying that they are using their skills with the Ouija board (the ‘psychic research’ of the previous paragraph) to effect the escape.

4. The prisoners coming to Yozgad that he refers to included those who were to later make the remarkable cross-country escape from Yozgad led by Lieutenant-Commander Cochrane, DSO, RN and told in the book 450 Miles to Freedom by Captain M.A.B. Johnston and Captain K.D. Yearsley. They, together with C.W. Hill and Harry, were amongst the very few to successfully escape from Yozgad. The group arrived at Yozgad the day before Harry and C.W. Hill were sent to Constantinople (now Istanbul) under their plan, as described in The Road to En-dor.

5. Again, the letter includes the message required by the ‘Spook’ stating that they are very comfortable in their new house.

6. By the date of this letter, 27th March 1918, the camp Commandant Kiazim Bey and the interpreter Moїse were well and truly under the spell of the ‘Spook’. At the eighth séance in the Colonels’ House held on 24th March 1916 the ‘telechronistic ray’ and the concepts of ‘past’, ‘present’ and ‘future’ were introduced to a totally believing Moїse. That evening Harry and Cedric had had the first staging of Trance Talk, done in the dark to frighten Moїse, in which ‘visions’ of the future were revealed.

7. On 26th March 1918 the ninth séance in The Colonels’ House had been held at which Moїse was prepared for the finding of the first clue to the treasure, the first step in the escape plan. The following day, the date of this letter, the tenth séance in The Colonels’ House took place to put a hold on the search for the first clue due to the poor weather at Yozgad. The search took place four days later.

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13.26 Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad

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187


To: Mrs E.H. Jones (his wife), Brynkynallt, Bangor, N. Wales From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., Prisoner of War No 54. Yozgad Turkey

Contents: My Dearest Wife, I have been in great luck. By last mail I received a letter from you which was only posted at the end of January. It made you seem quite near. And I also got the photographs of the children. How they have grown! I think Jean has a look of her cousin Olwen about her, and if she is lucky and good she may some day be as bouncy as her mother, and delight her father’s eyes. Is her hair as soft as yours, carissima? As to the young man, he looks as sturdy as a plough pony. Who is he like? He’s got my ‘cow’s lick’, I do believe! How does he compare with the youthful photos of Uncle Goron? You cannot conceive the joy these two little pictures have brought to me. They repose now on either side of your own photo, and it is almost worth while being a prisoner to have time to look at them. Some day – may it be soon – I shall have the originals on my knee and I’ll see if I can’t make up for all the time I’ve lost and get to know them as I want to – my two little pledges to our old Empire. You may well be proud of them carissima, but you cannot be prouder of them than I of you. They are our two little war decorations, are they not?

I was delighted to hear Nurse Bee has a little daughter. Write to her and send my warmest congratulations to her and her husband. Do you ever hear of my godson nowadays? Write to his father and tell him to scribble me a line some day.

We hear some more prisoners are coming here shortly, and that some of us are to be moved to another camp. I do not expect to go myself, nor do I want to particularly as Hill and I are very comfortable in our new abode. I am as cheery as a cricket, now as always, and though being a prisoner of war all this time may injure our chances of getting to the top of the tree in my profession I would rather be where I am than not have done my share.

There is no news to give you. I look forward to the warmth of summer which is fast approaching. I hear the storks have come back – they nest on one of the houses in the camp – but I have not seen them. Do you think there is any chance of prisoners of war being exchanged? There were rumours afloat in the camp here when last I talked with anyone about it.

Do not worry your gentle heart about me, ever. You know you used to call me an India Rubber Ball, and I have as much bounce in me as of old. I shall turn up smiling one of these fine days. Till then, dearest of all, ‘au revoir’.

Your husband and lover, Harry


1. Here he again refers to the prisoners who arrived in Yozgad one day before the departure of Harry and C.W. Hill, and who included the group that was later to escape cross country, as described in the book 450 Miles to Freedom.

2. ‘Some day – may it be soon – I shall have the originals on my knee’. The ‘originals’ are his children whom he expects to see soon. The escape is about to start.

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Letter dated 27th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) Notes and hidden messages (continued):

3. The ‘au revoir’ is poignant as Harry knows he will not be able to write for a while, but his message is he will ‘turn up smiling one of these fine days’.

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190

Postcard dated 30th March 1918 from Yozgad (continued) To: Lady Jones, Tighnabruaich, Argyllshire, Scotland, England [sic] (his mother) From: E.H. Jones 2nd Lieut., I.A.R., Prisoner of War at Yozgad, Turkey. No 54

Contents:

Dear Mother. I am in splendid health. Received today a parcel of food posted by Mair at Kames last May, also more Educational Books. Thank you, too, for your cheerful letters. Keep your courage high, and remember not to worry about me. Hill and I are settling down together very nicely. His sister is Mrs. Doukin, Lavendon Grange, Olney, Bucks. She would be glad to exchange gossip with you. Great love to all and keep cheery. Your loving son Hal

Notes: 1. The wire received by the Yozgad camp commandant Kiazim Bey from Constantinople on

1st April 1918 forbade any more letters being written home by Harry or Cedric Hill as further punishment for ‘communicating’ by telepathy and not revealing their ‘correspondent’. There are no letters after this date and there was silence for eight months until Mair finally heard that Harry was on his way home.

2. Between 30th March 1918, the date of this card, and 26th April 1918 when Harry and Cedric left Yozgad for Constantinople, thirty more séances were held. On 31st March and 1st April 1918 the first and second clues to the treasure were discovered. The next six months, culminating in their escape, would test Harry and Cedric and their acting skills most severely as they embarked on their strategy of madness.

3. In this card Harry asks his mother to give Cedric’s sister clues of their plans which he hopes he has revealed through earlier coded cards. In another message received by Sir Henry Jones sent from Yozgad by Captain A.B. Matthews, R.E. (see letter from V.B. Yearsley dated 6th October 1918), Sir Henry was also asked to get in touch with Cedric’s sister to give the same information.

4. Kames is a small village neighbouring Tighnabruaich on the Kyles of Bute in Scotland, the home of Harry’s parents Sir Henry and Lady Jones. It is interesting to note that a parcel posted in May did not arrive in Yozgad until the following March.

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13.28 Letter dated 6th October 1918 from Ramsgate To: Sir Henry Jones (E.H. Jones’s father) From: V.B. Yearsley

Contents:

4 Chapel Place Ramsgate

October 6th 1918

Dear Sir,

I have just received from my brother, who was recently a prisoner in Turkey (Yozgad) the secret message below, with instructions to forward it to you. The secret news was discovered by our Censor here in England but he has forwarded it on.

Message:

‘Your son and Lieut. Hill, Australian Flying Corps, were locked up in an empty house on March 7th on charge of holding telepathic communications with people in Turkey. They were sent to Constantinople on April 26th. They are both perfectly well and wish you to make all possible enquiries from home. I have sent several cryptos using Welsh words but do not answer in Welsh as I know only a few words I got on purpose from Harry. Please let Hill’s sister Mrs Doukin, Lavendon Grange, Olney, Bucks, know all this and keep in communication with her. (Signed) A.B. Matthews, Captain R.E.’

I expect you will understand better than I do what all this is about. ‘Telepathic’ in the above is, one would imagine, a slip for ‘telegraphic’.

You may have heard that seven officers including my brother, Captain K.D. Yearsley, R.E. quite recently escaped from Yozgad and reached Cyprus. We expect to see them in England any day now.

I hope you have good news of your son. It really looks as if a good many of our Kut heroes were going to be exchanged at last.

Yours faithfully

(Signed) V.B. Yearsley

Notes:

1. The above has been taken from a typed copy of the original letter which was forwarded to Sir Henry Jones at that time on a visit to America (see the letter dated 10th October 1918 from Lady Jones). Neither the original letter nor the original encrypted message have been found.

2. The secret message sent by Captain Matthews from Yozgad was one of several similar messages designed by Harry as an alternative route to escape if their main route failed. This is described fully in The Road to En-dor.

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Letter dated 6th October 1918 from Ramsgate (continued) Notes (continued):

3. The Captain Yearsley mentioned in the letter as the brother of the writer was the author of the book 450 Miles to Freedom which described the uniquely successful cross-country escape under the leadership of Lieutenant-Commander Cochrane, DSO, RN. Both Captain Yearsley and Lieutenant-Commander Cochrane were in the group of prisoners that arrived at Yozgad on 25th April 1918, one day before Harry and Cedric were sent to Constantinople (now Istanbul) as part of their escape.

4. Clearly V.B. Yearsley would not have known of the ruse set up at such great lengths by Harry and Cedric and would not have realised that ‘telepathy’ was the right word. Sir Henry Jones, who had similar information from other sources (e.g. encrypted postcards from both Captain C.B. Mundey and Harry himself – see the postcards dated 15th March 1918 and 20th March 1918), would have known that ‘telepathy’ was the right word.

5. In The Road to En-dor A.B. Matthews, R.E. is listed as a Lieutenant.

193

13.29 Letter dated 10th October 1918 from Tighnabruaich

194

Letter dated 10th October 1918 from Tighnabruaich (continued) To: Mr Jones

From: (Lady) Annie Jones (Harry’s mother)

Contents:

Noddfa Tighnabruaich

10th October 1918

Dear Mr Jones,

I am enclosing you a copy of a letter which came here yesterday. I shall send the original to America, but I know my husband would like you to see this, & you can of course show it to Mr Hetherington.

We have, before, got one or two cards from this Captain Matthews. Notice that Hal & his friend wish all possible enquiries to be made from home. I have a fear that the allies may bombard Constantinople before these poor lads are rescued. Nothing is too terrible to happen in this time of tragedy but perhaps Turkey will collapse soon.

I am hoping for news of my husband’s arrival: he told me not to expect it in less than a fortnight, but I thought that was a little dodge to keep me from being anxious.

I trust that you are keeping stronger & that Mrs Jones and the children are keeping well.

I am

Yours sincerely

Annie W. Jones

If Hal had remained in Yozgad he would certainly have been one of the runaways.

Notes:

1. This letter was written by Lady Jones on receipt of the letter from V.B. Yearsley. 2. Mr Jones is probably the Tom Jones mentioned in the letter dated 3rd November 1918,

Under Secretary in the Cabinet of David Lloyd George. Mr Hetherington is Professor H.J.W. Hetherington of University College, Exeter, a close friend of Sir Henry Jones and who was later to publish a selection of Sir Henry’s letters after his death in 1922.

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Letter dated 10th October 1918 from Tighnabruaich (continued) Notes (continued)

3. On the date of Annie Jones’s letter, Cedric was on his way to Smyrna (now Izmir) to join the sick to be repatriated to Britain. He left on the first exchange ship. Harry was sent a few days later and left on the second exchange ship. Both had managed to convince the Turks that they were insane in order to effect the escape. They were on their way home via Alexandria and had escaped but only within days of the signing of the armistice with Turkey. Harry arrived in London on 8th December 1918.

4. The ‘runaways’ mentioned at the end of the letter are the Yozgad escapees whose story is told in the book 450 Miles to Freedom by Captains M.A.B. Johnston and K.D. Yeardsley.

196

13.30 Letter dated 3rd November 1918 from Tighnabruaich

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Letter dated 3rd November 1918 from Tighnabruaich (continued) To: Professor Hetherington

From: (Lady) Annie Jones (Harry’s mother)

Contents:

Noddfa Tighnabruaich

3rd November 1918

Dear Professor Hetherington

Just two or three days ago I got the letters written on the passage as well as two of a later date. All are satisfactory & the party are being treated everywhere with the greatest kindness. I daresay you have seen the pamphlet with the itinerary and the little biographies. Prof Kemp Smith sent me a copy.

The ‘Chief’ will be very fidgetty [sic] to get home now because of Jim & Hal. He is a freeman at last poor boy and may write or wire or do anything. I think many of these men will be dazed.

Seeing you and Mr Tom Jones know all about Hal’s case, and our anxieties, I shall copy the report which came here on Friday from the India Office. (You remember there was to be an inspection of prison camps). It is dated 12-9-18 & received through the Netherlands Minister at Constantinople.

‘Haidar Pasha Hospital’

‘We found here Lieutenant Henry Elias Jones [sic] Artillery Battery (Volunteer). The 10th May 1918 he was sent down from Yozgad with mental disturbance. He was quite content & we had a long talk with him. He wants to be a Turk, & mistrusts all English, & will not take anything if he thinks it comes from his parents, or from England. He wants a Turkish uniform & will settle down in Turkey. Intelligent as he is he learnt Turkish with an astonishing good accent in an exceedingly short time. He will probably be sent back to England with the first exchange.’

I cant [sic] copy it yet without laughing!

Yours ever gratefully

Annie W. Jones

P.S. Your book came safely & is on the study table.

Notes:

1. The first paragraph refers to Sir Henry Jones’s party visiting the United States. Annie Jones refers to Sir Henry as ‘The Chief’.

198

Letter dated 3rd November 1918 from Tighnabruaich (continued) Notes (continued)

2. Tom Jones, Under Secretary in the Cabinet of David Lloyd George, is probably also the Mr Jones to whom Annie Jones wrote on 6th October 1918 asking him to make enquiries. Between then and this letter she received the letter from the India Office informing her that her son was free. That Harry had actually escaped was not understood by the India Office – not surprising given the ingenious method and subterfuge adopted.

3. Annie Jones, his mother, clearly understood though as her last line attests. Both she and her husband had been kept appraised of her son’s plans through the coded messages hidden in the correspondence back home which had escaped the eye of the Turkish censor and had been instrumental, in the earlier days of captivity, in forcing better conditions for the prisoners of war in Turkey and investigating the abuse of the rank and file following the defeat at Kut.

4. The armistice with Germany was signed eight days later. The war was over.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Further background material to these events can be found in the following: ° The Diary of Major A.J. Anderson, Imperial War Museum ° The Neglected War: Mesopotamia by A.J. Barker ° Townshend of Kut by A.J. Barker ° Eastern Nights – and Flights by ‘Contact’ (Alan Bott) ° The Siege by Russell Brandon ° The National Army Museum Book of the Turkish Front 1914–18 by Field Marshal Lord

Carver ° Kut 1916 Courage and Failure in Iraq by Patrick Crowley ° Eden to Armageddon by Roger Ford ° Battle in Iraq. Letters & diaries of The First World War by J.M. Hammond ° The Spook and the Commandant by Group Captain C.W. Hill ° 450 Miles to Freedom by Captain M.A.B. Johnston and Captain K.D. Yearsley ° The Road to En-dor, by E.H. Jones, Lt., I.A.R.O. ° Escapers All published by John Lane, (Personal narratives of fifteen escapers from war-

time prison camps 1914–1918, including E.H. Jones) ° Other Ranks of Kut by Flight Sergeant P.W. Long ° The sufferings of the Kut garrison – Lugershall WILTS 1923 ° The Official History of the Campaign in Mesopotamia by Brigadier General F.J.

Moberley ° The Secrets of a Kuttite, An Authenic Story of Kut, Adventures in Captivity and Stamboul

Intrigue by Captain Edward O. Mousley, R.F.A. ° In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division by Major E.W.C. Sandes, MC, R.E. ° Tales of Turkey by Major E.W.C. Sandes, DSO, MC, R.E. ° Captured at Kut, The Great War Diaries of Colonel W.C. Spackman edited by Tony

Spackman ° A prisoner in Turkey by John Still ° My Campaign in Mesopotamia by Major General Sir Charles Townshend ° When God made Hell by Charles Townshend ° Battles on the Tigris by Ron Wilcox

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The Road to En-dor by E.H. Jones

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EN-DOR UNVEILED

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