The British Death March in Mesopotamia I THE GREAT WAR Week 94

You fought and you lost. You're a prisoner, but that's maybe better than active fighting, right? Well, you have to get to the prison camp first, and this week a death march begins. I'm Indy Neidell. Welcome to the Great War. Last week the big news was the surrender of the British and Indian army that had been under siege at Kut for five months. There was new action on the Italian front and poison gas attacks in the west. The Eastern Front had been quiet because of the spring floods, but I'll mention it now in a quote from the story of the Great War. Again in May, the story of events on the Eastern Front is lacking in sensational movements, accompanied by equally unsensational success or failure, but nevertheless it is on both sides a story of unceasing activity, of unending labor, of unremitting toil, of endless suffering, of unlimited heroism, and of unsurpassed courage. The more so because much of all that was accomplished was counted only as part of the regular daily routine, and lacked both the incentive and the reward of widespread publicity which more frequently attaches to military operations of extensive character. Not for years to come will it be possible to write a detailed history of this phase of the Great War as far as the Eastern Front is concerned, nor will it be practicable to recount all the uncounted deeds of valor accomplished by heroes whose names and deeds now must remain unknown to the world at large, even though both have been for months and months on the lips of equally brave comrades in arms. They weren't the only ones who'd been bravely toiling for months and months, but for those other men, the men from the siege of Kut, the ordeal was only beginning. On May 6th, the Death March from Kut began. Nearly 12,000 British and Indian troops, most half-starved and many seriously ill, were marched northward, with no care nor concern being made for their well-being. On the second day, the men, many of whom had had their boots stolen, marched 24 kilometers with neither water nor shade. Any who fell or even stumbled were beaten with whips and sticks. As they reached Ctesiphon, horror stories emerged, like that from Captain E.O. Mowsley, who saw marchers, "...dying with a green ooze issuing from their lips, their mouths fixed open, in and out of which flies walked." After two weeks, the men would reach Baghdad, where the American consul there paid local authorities to have 500 men sent to hospital before eventually back to Basra. 160 would die on that journey. As for the others, they were kept for three days in a compound with neither shade nor sanitation and then forced to again march north. At Tikrit, they were stoned as they marched through the town, and even when they paused, men were afraid to go any distance to relieve themselves for fear they would be murdered for their clothes. One prisoner, finding among seven naked corpses in a yard one man who was still alive, asked a guard to give him some water. The guard walked over to the guy, took his water bottle, and shoved the neck into the man's mouth until he choked to death. The men's leader, General Charles Townsend, was taken to Constantinople, where he was given residence on an island in the Sea of Marmara. He would remain there in comfort for the remainder of the war. If you were wondering, of the 2,500 British soldiers captured at Kut, 1,750 of them died on the march north or in Anatolian prison camps. That's 70%. The Indian troops fared better. Of 9,300, just 2,500 of them died, just over a quarter, but this was partly because they received better treatment as the Ottomans tried to attract fellow Muslims to their cause. This was a very nasty war, and that march was certainly one of its nastier chapters. Once again, the results of British hubris were on worldwide display. Peter Hart says the whole Tigris campaign was fought with insufficient troops and inadequate logistical arrangements, a campaign which ignored the unique terrain characteristics of the region and was underpinned by the presumption that the Turks were not capable of serious opposition. Guess they didn't really learn anything from Gallipoli, but now, having suffered a second humiliation at Ottoman hands, Britain had to strike back. But you know, Britain had a lot on its plate at the moment. Verdun was in full swing, plans for the Somme were kicking into high gear, Salonika was... whatever Salonika was. But the future of the British Empire in the region, the Middle East, and India really revolved around fixing the situation in Mesopotamia as soon as possible. So they finally did what they should have done last year if they were serious about taking Baghdad. They began to totally reorganize their transport system, a huge and costly but necessary operation, and the War Office took direct control of things from the Indian administration in Delhi. Major General George McMunn was the new Inspector General of Communications, and here's what he found when he arrived in Basra. As we entered the anchorage, a melancholy sight appeared. Twenty ocean steamers, loaded with supplies, and military stores lay awaiting unloading and had been so for weeks. So devoid was Basra of wharfage, port labor, and port craft to handle all that was now pouring into the river. The staff in India in modern times had not studied modern movement and logistics. The organization of longshore and river service was only partially understood. Well, he had his work cut out for him, and some people were having their work thrust upon them. On May 12th, in German-occupied France, 25,000 men and women were deported to Germany to be farm laborers. They were given 90 minutes to pack. Three days later, in Belgium, all unemployed people were ordered to take work in Germany. Foreign labor quite simply allowed more Germans to leave their farms, factories, and homes and join the fight. And they'd certainly be needed if the fighting at Verdun were to continue. Okay, here's a little note from John Keegan about one difference between the French and German forces at Verdun. The French rotated divisions through Verdun. The Germans didn't. They just topped up depleted forces with replacements. So by the end of April, 42 French divisions had gone through the region compared to only 30 German. So you got depressing numbers like this. Between March and May, the German 25th Division suffered casualties in its infantry of over 100%. And here's what happened this week. On May 8th, 350 German soldiers were killed in Fort du Almond when a munitions magazine exploded. General Charles Mangin, General Robert Nivelle's right hand man at Verdun, saw the smoke and also saw a huge opportunity. Now, back on April 22nd, he had made one attempt to retake Fort du Almond, and his men had gotten quite far before being driven away by German machine guns, and he thought now was the time to attack while the defenders were in disarray. He wanted to attack with two regiments on a one kilometer front. Nivelle said go for it. The attack was scheduled for May 22nd, but the Germans soon knew all about it, security being one of Nivelle's biggest weaknesses, so all the German immediate plans were scrapped and they began to quickly patch up du Almond's defenses. And something that could not be patched up was the White Star Liner, the SS Simrik. The Simrik was torpedoed on the 8th, a year and a day after the Lusitania was torpedoed, and actually was torpedoed by the same U-Boat. This time there was no international outcry, as the dead were all British citizens and the Simrik had been shuttling ammunition between the US and Britain. And that was the week. A death march begins. French and Belgians are sent to Germany to work, and an explosion changes the situation at Verdun. Speaking of Verdun, Louis Barthas, the French soldier who kept meticulous diaries of the war, was about to be sent there. He wrote this, The next day we rested because the day after that we had to begin our approach to Verdun. At the corner of a little square I saw a crowd gathering. They had formed a circle around a brownish, greasy mass, containing what were clearly pieces of bone. Someone explained to me that in August 1914 the Germans, masters of the battlefield, gathered up all the dead, their own and ours, and made an immense funeral pyre which they doused with gasoline and lit. For several days the wind carried the hideous odor of grilled flesh for miles around. No one knew how, but this shape which I had before my eyes was a piece of what remained when the sinister bonfire burned out. Just a peaceful day, far from the action. Barthas would indeed head to the hell of Verdun and we'll soon see some of his impressions from there. They won't be pretty. If you want to know more about Louis Barthas and his life, you can check out our bio special about him right here. You can also support our show by purchasing his book in our Amazon store. Our Patreon supporter of the week is Dr. Gunn. It's like a Bond villain. Dr. Gunn. Please consider helping us out on Patreon so that we can continue to make this show even better. Don't forget to subscribe, see you next time.