The seething flames of economic supremacy that were consuming Europe had threatened from the beginning of the war to creep into the Occident, as we shall see in the chapter on "Japan and the Far East." Moreover, as described in "Naval Operations," it was in the waters of the Near East that the first big incident of the war on the sea took place.

Despite the fact that the public had been looking forward to an immediate clash of the dreadnought squadrons of the two countries somewhere between the east coast of Scotland and the Dutch shore, nothing of the kind happened. Instead, both grand fleets ran to safety in the landlocked harbors of their respective countries.

In was to the Mediterranean in the first week of August, 1914, that the attention of the world was first drawn by events. Two German warships, the Goeben and the Breslau, were off the coast of Algeria. The first was one of the finest ships of the German navy, a superdreadnought battleship cruiser of 23,000 tons, capable of making more than 28 knots an hour. Her main battery consisted of ten 11-inch guns, and in addition she mounted twelve 5.9-inch guns and twelve 21 pounders. She was capable therefore of meeting on equal terms any enemy vessel in the Mediterranean, and more than capable of outrunning any of the heavier vessels of the French or British navy stationed in those waters. The Breslau was capable of a similar speed, but was a much weaker vessel, being a light cruiser of only 4,478 tons. Both of these vessels had enormous coal capacities, the Breslau, in particular, being able to travel more than 6,000 miles without refilling her bunkers.

The speed and the coal capacity of these vessels were to prove of vital importance in the events of the next few days. For their role was to be one of flight, not to battle. England alone and, in an overwhelming degree, England and France combined hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned the two German warships in the Mediterranean. Realizing this, the German commander, after firing a few shots into the Algerian coast towns of Bone and Philippville, steamed northwest with the intention either of outwitting the English and French squadron commanders, or of running through Gibraltar and so on to the broad Atlantic to wage war upon the British mercantile marine. The British, however, were alive to this danger and headed off the two German warships. Whereupon they turned northeast.

Early on the morning of Wednesday, August 5, 1914, these ships were discovered steaming into the harbor of Messina, Italy. The English and French fleets, close upon the heels of the enemy, immediately took up positions at either end of the Straits of Messina, confident that they had successfully bottled up the Germans.

Then quickly there developed one of the most dramatic incidents in the history of naval warfare. It is described in this chapter as well as in the narrative on "Naval Operations" because of its direct bearing on Turkish politics and policies. The captain and officers of the Goeben and the Breslau went ashore at Messina, made their wills and deposited their valuables with the German consul. The decks of the apparently doomed vessels were cleared for action, flags run up to the resounding cheers of the sailors and with the brass bands of the boats playing "Heil dir im Siegerkranz" they steamed swiftly out of Messina harbor to what seemed like certain destruction.

A blood-red sun was quickly setting in the perfect Italian sky. The bands were hushed aboard the German warships, every light was dimmed, and the sailors were ordered to their posts. In tense whispers they discussed the coming fight. The ships were already at top speed plowing through the waters of the Mediterranean as fast as the throbbing engines could urge them. A sharp lookout was kept for the enemy, but as one hour, two hours, three hours passed and none was seen it became apparent that for the time at least they had evaded detection. Rounding the southern coast of Italy, they turned due east and the course laid for Constantinople.

Morning came and still, at 28 knots an hour, the German warships were speeding toward the Turkish capital—and safety. To the rear, too far to reveal their funnels, the pursuing French and English squadron followed, thin lazy strips of smoke attested their presence to the men aboard the Breslau and the Goeben.

Suddenly far to the southeast the masts of a single vessel were seen on the horizon. Then the smokestacks of the British light cruiser Gloucester poked their tops above the skyline and daringly she opened fire on the mighty Goeben. Tempting, however, as the opportunity was for the German commander with an overwhelming force at his heels he dared waste no time nor run the risk of a chance shot disabling his vessel. He sheered off sharply to the northeast and in a few hours lost the plucky Gloucester to view.

At the end of this week in August the Goeben and the Breslau, their engines hot from constant steaming at forced speed, but with flags flying and bands playing, steamed through the narrow channel of the Dardanelles, through the sea of Marmora, and cast anchor off the gloriously beautiful city of Constantinople. As quickly as the formalities would permit the two German warships were transferred to Turkish sovereignty, and to all intents and purposes, as future events proved, the Ottoman Empire entered the war as an ally of Germany and Austria.

Turkey's attitude in these early days of the crisis of August, 1914, was conditioned by several major causes easily discernible. For almost a generation, Germany has been sedulously cultivating Turkish friendship. With that single-minded purposefulness so conspicuous in her diplomacy, Germany found it easy, especially under the regime of the former Sultan Abdul Hamid II to outmaneuver the easy-going diplomacy of France, Russia, and England. Indeed, she found a real rival only in England, who, starting with the initial advantage of long political friendship with the Turkish people and the good will that grew out of the Crimean War, successfully opposed many of the chess moves of her German rival.

However, with the coming to Constantinople as German Ambassador of the late Marshal von Bieberstein, German prestige became supreme. Easily the best German diplomatist of the present generation, Von Bieberstein dominated the diplomatic corps at Constantinople and practically dictated the foreign policy of Turkey. Through him, the Deutsche Bank secured the great Bagdad railway concession and completed the commercial subjugation of the country by Berlin.

These disquieting developments had been watched with anxiety in London. But it was not until Von Bieberstein sprang the Bagdad railway surprise that England fully awoke to the situation. Then she stepped in and prevented any extension of the line to the Persian Gulf, an area which British political and commercial circles regarded as peculiarly their own.

At the same time an effort was made to reclaim the position Great Britain had lost in Turkey. With the fall of Abdul Hamid and the coming of the Young Turks there seemed a chance to do this, especially as Germany was looked upon by the members of the Committee of Union and Progress as the chief support of the deposed sultan. Kaiser William, however, played his cards with consummate skill. The German policy was quickly adapted to the new situation. Von Bieberstein was eventually shifted to London and the leaders of the Young Turks, such as the youthful and popular Enver Bey, were invited to Berlin to come under the influence of the German army chiefs. The British Government, then in the midst of negotiations with Russia and unwilling or unable to enter into any outside arrangement that seemed to oppose the satisfaction of the Russian dream of Constantinople refused to accept the Young Turks' invitation to guarantee the integrity of the Turkish Empire for a limited period in return for commercial and political concessions. On the other hand, Emperor William reaffirmed to the new sultan his guardianship of Islam and his interest in the welfare of the Mohammedans wherever found.

But perhaps the deciding factor in the inclination of the Turks toward Germany and her ally was to be found in the situation of the Mohammedan world. Turkey had never reconciled herself to the English control of Egypt and India and saw in the present war a possibility such as had never occurred before and possibly would never occur again of wresting from the British the far-flung lands peopled by the followers of Mohammed. With powerful allies, and on more even terms than they had ever dreamed of, they could now do battle with the enemy that held their race in subjugation and with Russia, whose avowed object through generations had been the capture of Constantinople, the possession and perhaps desecration of the holy places of their religion and the dismembering of the last self-governing state of Mohammedanism.

These, then, were the major considerations that weighed with the Turkish people, no less than with the Turkish Government, in coming to a decision. So tremendous were the stakes at issue, so widespread, almost world-wide, were the interests involved, that Turkey, situated as it was guarding practically the sole gateway leading from Europe to Russia, could not hope to remain neutral. For better or for worse a decision between the two warring factions must be made.

England, France, and Russia protested vigorously against the action of the Turkish Government in taking over the Goeben and the Breslau. Turkey replied by drawing attention to an incident that had seriously inflamed public opinion in the Ottoman Empire. When the war started two first-class battleships, the Sultan Osman and the Reshadie, were nearing completion for Turkey in English yards. Without any diplomatic preliminaries the British admiralty confiscated the two ships on the grounds of naval necessity. Whatever may have been the English motive, the Turkish people regarded this as an attempt on the part of England to weaken the Ottoman Empire and to make it impossible for it to safeguard its national interests in the troublesome days that were surely to come to neutrals as well as to belligerents.

But the Entente Powers hesitated to force a break on the Goeben and Breslau question and the diplomatic correspondence of the period shows that they had strong hope, not only at that moment, but up to the moment of the final severance of relations of keeping the Turkish nation in a state of neutrality at least. Signs were multiplying, however, that such was not the intention of those in control at Constantinople.

In August and September, 1914, great activity prevailed throughout the country. Arms and ammunition, especially heavy artillery in which the Turkish army was notoriously weak, constantly arrived from Germany and Austria. Every train from the central countries brought German army officers and a sprinkling of German noncommissioned officers with which to stiffen the Ottoman troops. The army was mobilized and General Liman von Sanders, a distinguished German officer, was appointed inspector general of the Turkish army. Immense stores of food and munitions were concentrated at Damascus, Constantinople, Bagdad, and on the Trans-Caucasus frontier, while a holy war against the infidel was openly preached.

German vessels lying off Constantinople seem to have been given more or less of a free hand and frequently searched Russian and British vessels for contraband. The Turkish authorities appear to have gone as far as they dared in preventing Russian supplies getting through to the Black Sea. Russia protested and at times, along the shores of the Black Sea, used methods closely bordering upon open warfare. Both sides, however, seemed reluctant to take definite steps toward an open break.

In so far as Turkey was concerned this was probably due to a disagreement among the members of the Government and others of powerful influence outside official life. It was said that the sultan, the grand vizier, and Djavid Bey, Minister of Finance, as well as a majority of the cabinet, were opposed to war. However that may be, the issue was soon decided by a small but immensely powerful clique headed by Enver Bey and Talaat Bey, two of the more prominent and forceful of the Young Turk leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress.

Of all the figures in Turkish life during the first months of the Great War, the most picturesque and probably the most influential in the events that led up to the outbreak of hostilities in Turkey was that of the youthful Enver Pasha. He was one of the heroes of the remarkable rebellion that resulted in the downfall of Abdul Hamid, and since then he had ever played a leading part in the constantly shifting drama in Constantinople. Dapper, alert intelligent, and approachable, modest almost to the point of shyness, Enver was almost a venerated figure among the Turkish people. As he passed on horseback, his slim figure erect and stiff in its military pose, he attracted more attention and interest than did the sultan himself.

He formed the chief and perhaps the strongest link between Constantinople and Berlin. Honored in an unprecedented manner by the sultan, Enver's influence in Constantinople was almost supreme. It is through him that the various negotiations with Berlin were conducted. Soon after the triumph of the Young Turk movement Enver went to Berlin as military attache to the Turkish Embassy, and thoroughly imbibed the Prussian military spirit. He returned to the Turkish capital an enthusiastic admirer of the German army system and became a willing ally of General Liman von Sanders in the latter's attempt to repair the weaknesses of the Turkish army revealed by the Balkan War.

Second only to Enver Pasha in those critical days was Talaat Bey, an old and more experienced member of the inner council of the Committee of Union and Progress and also a prominent figure in the revolution against Abdul Hamid. He was described by Sir Louis Mallet, British Ambassador to Constantinople, as the most powerful civilian in the cabinet and also as the most conspicuous of the leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress. He was troubled by no such personal modesty and shyness as was Enver. He was, however, a much harder man to judge. Enver was openly pro-German in the weeks that preceded the actual break with the Entente Powers, but for a long time the real intentions of Talaat Bey were in doubt—at least they were to the British, French, and Russian Ambassadors.

Djemel Pasha, Minister of Marine, while pro-German in his sentiments, is believed to have hesitated in advising an open break, largely because of the condition of the Turkish navy and the state of Turkish finance. The arrival of the Goeben and the Breslau, the importation of hundreds of German sailors to stiffen the Turkish marine, and, during October, the receipt of about $20,000,000 in gold from Berlin, won him over. In the end Djemel Pasha stood with Enver and Talaat.

Other members of the Turkish Cabinet made a demonstration of attempting to hold their country to an uneasy neutrality. Whether their efforts were sincere or designed to prevent an open rupture until the psychological moment had arrived it is impossible to say. Sir Louis Mallet, in his private dispatches to his Government, expresses his firm conviction that the sultan, the heir apparent, the grand vizier, Prince Said Halim, Djavid Bey, the Minister of Finance and a clear majority of the cabinet were determined not to allow Turkey to be drawn into the war. Up to the very last minute the British Ambassador did not despair of the success of this peace party. Events were too strong for these advocates of neutrality—events and the control of the all-important army and navy by Enver and his associates. By the sword the Ottoman Empire was reared and by the sword it has been ruled ever since.

During the months of September, 1914, and October, 1914, there were many plain signs that Enver Pasha and Talaat Bey were heading straight for a break. On September 9, 1914, the Porte gave notice of the proposed abolition of the capitulations by which the various powers enjoyed extraterritorial rights. At the same time what amounted to a final demand was made upon the British Government to return the two Turkish battleships seized at the outbreak of the war.

Extraordinary efforts were made by all the Entente Powers to keep Turkey neutral. They proposed to agree to the abolition of the capitulations as soon as a modern judicial system could be set up in Turkey; they agreed to guarantee the independence and integrity of the country for a limited but extended term of years; they declared that Turkey would not suffer by any changes of national frontiers growing out of the war; and England even promised to return the two superdreadnoughts upon the conclusion of the war, claiming that their retention meanwhile was absolutely necessary for her protection.

The main stipulations made by the Entente Powers in return for these concessions were that the German crews of the Goeben and the Breslau be sent out of Turkey and that General Liman von Sanders and the other members of the German military mission be dismissed. With these demands Turkey refused to comply, after hesitating over the first. Indeed, the strength of the German stiffening in Turkey was constantly becoming greater: by the middle of September there were no less than 4,000 German officers and noncommissioned officers in Constantinople alone and every train from the north brought others. This situation of tension between Turkey and the Entente Powers continued all through September and October. The outside world momentarily expected an open rupture.



CHAPTER LXXXIII

THE FIRST BLOW AGAINST THE ALLIES

On October 29, 1914, came news of a Bedouin invasion of the Sinai peninsula and an occupation of the important Wells of Magdala on the road to the Suez Canal. England became alarmed, and her composure was not restored by the news that came a few hours later. Claiming that Russia had taken aggressive action in the Black Sea, three Turkish torpedo boats sailed into Odessa Harbor, shelled the town, sank a Russian guardship, and did other considerable damage.

On the following day, October 30, 1914, the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople asked for his passports and the British and French representatives with evident reluctance soon followed suit. On November 1 Turkey was definitely and irretrievably at war with the Entente Powers and an ally of Germany and Austria.

The war from the point of view of the Turkish people was a matter of four frontiers. There was the Dardanelles to guard; there was Egypt and the Suez Canal to be threatened and perhaps captured; there was the Caucasus, where across towering mountains and deep gorges the Ottoman faced the Russian, his hereditary and most feared enemy; and finally there was Mesopotamia. All of these theatres of possible warfare presented military problems, and one of them naval problems among the most intricate and interesting of those facing the nations involved in this unprecedented war. In the Caucasus the mountains and the scarcity of broad passes and good roads, the almost entire lack of railway facilities and the whole nature of the country rendered offensive operations as difficult as on the northeast frontier of Italy or in the Carpathians. In Syria and on the road to the Suez Canal, the waterless desert, the entire absence of railways, the paucity and inadequacy of roads and the nature of the obstacles to be crossed before an invasion of Egypt was possible made the task one of terrible difficulty. In the Dardanelles the peninsula of Gallipoli, strong as it was in natural advantages, was open to naval attack from two and perhaps three sides and its defense must prove not only a costly affair but one the issue of which must be constantly open to doubt. Lastly in Mesopotamia the task for the Turks was a comparatively easy one, for an invading army must meet with constant difficulties through lack of water, excessive heat, absence of roads and railways and distance from real base of supplies.

At the time of Turkey's entry into the war, military opinion all over the world was divided on the question of the relative efficiency of her army. All agreed, however, that as an individual fighting animal the Turk had few if any equals. Centuries of warfare had established his reputation, and the wonderful defense of Plevna had set the seal upon it. On the defensive, it was believed by many, he was unbeatable, conditions of supply and equipment being equal.

The Balkan War, however, had been a severe blow to his prestige. It was widely felt that his defeat by the Bulgars, the Serbians, and the Greeks had revealed serious, even vital, weaknesses in the Ottoman army. Consequently the test of Turkey in the Great War was anxiously awaited by both allies and foes. Tremendous issues were at stake, and the failure or success of the soldiers of the Crescent in standing before the troops of Russia, France, and Great Britain was bound to have an important, perhaps decisive, influence on the outcome of the struggle as a whole.

It is doubtful if the general staff of any of the warring countries had any accurate or dependable figures of the Turkish army. Especially was this so of the army on a war footing. At one time only Mohammedans were permitted to serve with the colors, the citizens of other religious beliefs being called upon to pay a yearly tax in lieu of service. Of recent years, however, that law was altered, and in the Balkan War Mohammedan and Christian served side by side and fought with equal ardor for their country. Just how large a proportion of the Christian population had been incorporated into the army at the time of the outbreak of hostilities few experts were in any position to estimate.

Germany, because of her painstaking investigations in Turkey as well as in every other country, probably was in possession of more accurate data than any other nation, not even excepting the Turks themselves. The best neutral authorities speak of 1,125,000 as the total war-time strength of the Ottoman forces, but that estimate was made prior to the war and before the world had learned that nations under modern conditions are able to place a much larger proportion of their available manhood in the field than was ever thought possible. Probably the Turkish war strength was underestimated. The chief difficulty was not in finding the men, but in providing quickly equipment, and at the outset that was evidently a very real obstacle in Turkey.

The Turkish army was essentially a German creation, and largely the personal accomplishment of that very able military organizer and student of war, Field Marshal von der Goltz. Von der Goltz spent a decade with the Turkish army, and returned to Germany only to reorganize the eastern defenses of his country in preparation for the Great War. When Turkey entered the struggle he returned to Constantinople at Enver Bey's personal request.

The Turk does not become subject to military duty until he reaches the age of twenty. Then, however, for the next two decades he belongs to the army, either actually or potentially. The first nine years are spent in the Nizam or first line, first with the colors and then in immediate reserve. Then come nine years in the Redif or Landwehr, and, finally, two years in the Mustaph'-phiz or Landsturm.

All branches of the Turkish army were not equally good. Cavalry and infantry were probably the equal of corresponding troops in the armies of any other country, but the inefficiency of the artillery was blamed for the debacle of the Balkan War. Many of the thousands of German troops poured into Turkey before and after she entered the war were trained gunners sent with the object of stiffening the weakest arm of the Turkish army.

The Turkish army has always suffered, as have the armies of many other countries, from a shortage of properly trained officers. Since the advent of the Young Turks, and especially since Enver Pasha, with his German training, succeeded to the position of Minister of War and Commander in Chief, the personnel of the officers' corps has been vastly improved. But it takes years—yes, generations—to create an adequate supply of officers and noncommissioned officers for an army of the proportions of Turkey's, and the assistance of the German stiffening must have been of inestimable advantage to the Ottoman command.

At the outbreak of the war the Turkish army was disposed in four regional groups. The number of men actually with the colors, according to the best estimates, was 500,000, with another 250,000 trained men in immediate reserve awaiting equipment. In or near Constantinople were about 200,000 troops, including the First, Third, and Fifth Corps, a part of the Sixth, and four cavalry brigades. In Thrace, watching the uncertain Bulgars and Greeks, were the Second and most of the Sixth Corps with cavalry regiments and frontier guards. In Palestine, menacing the Suez Canal, were the 40,000 troops of the Eighth Corps, besides unnumbered irregular Arab forces, who could not, however, be depended upon. In the Caucasus the Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Corps and three brigades of cavalry were facing the Russian forces across the winding frontier. At Bagdad the Thirteenth Corps, and at Mosul the Twelfth, stood guard over Mesopotamia.

For centuries England had had a very genuine and active interest in the Persian Gulf, recognizing its strategic and potential commercial importance with that foresight which has distinguished her statesmen and traders for generations. Russia had been regarded as the most likely nation to contest England's predominance in that quarter of the world, and her every move was watched and checkmated in Downing Street.

At the outbreak of the war, however, and for a decade before, Germany had given many signs that she had to be reckoned with in any arrangements in the waters washing the shores of Mesopotamia. And it soon became apparent that the domination of that part of Turkey was to be one of the chief spoils of victory. Much has been written about Germany's territorial ambitions. Much of it is based upon pure speculation, but publicists in Germany make no disguise of the Fatherland's desire to win and make a political and economic unit of the countries now embraced in Germany, Austria-Hungary, Servia, perhaps Rumania, Bulgaria, and Turkey in Europe and Asia. One has but to take up the map and outline this aggregation of states and turn to a table of statistics to realize the enormous advantages and powers of such a unit. Politically and economically, it would dominate Europe as has no other power for many generations. Economically and financially, it would be absolutely independent of the rest of the world, but even if it were not, no nation or combination of nations could afford to attempt to isolate it.



CHAPTER LXXXIV

BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN MESOPOTAMIA

It was some such considerations as these working in the minds of the members of the British Government that impelled them to undertake an offensive in Mesopotamia almost immediately after the break of relations with Turkey. But in addition there were two other reasons. Russia feared a Turkish attack in force in the Caucasus and called to England and France for a diversion. The Mesopotamia campaign working on the right flank of the Turkish forces, as a whole, was an ideal operation intended to draw troops from the Russian frontier. Secondly, the moral effect of any considerable British success in Mesopotamia, and especially the capture of Bagdad, was bound to be very great. Bulgaria, Greece, and Rumania were believed to be waiting for a cue to enter the struggle, and perhaps turn the scales in the Balkans, while the attitude of the Mohammedans in the French and British possessions was largely dependent upon the prestige of those two countries.

Finally, in considering the relative importance of particular campaigns, observers are likely to lose sight of the tremendous importance of possession. In law possession is said to constitute nine points. In warfare, and in diplomacy, which must eventually follow, possession is even more important. When the plenipotentiaries of the warring nations gather around the peace table to arrive at a basis of settlement and the cards are laid on the table, that nation in possession of disputed territory, whatever may be her military and financial condition, is in a position to largely influence the terms. Only by the concession of equivalent advantages or considerations will it be possible to oust her.

How widely this is recognized will be evidenced by the scramble that is made by each of the warring nations to secure possession of the land regarded as its particular sphere of influence. This is true of Mesopotamia, as of many other parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa.

It is evident that the Turkish military authorities were taken somewhat by surprise by the rapidity with which the British Government in India perfected their arrangements for an attack upon Mesopotamia. Knowing that the total British army was extremely limited, it was thought that France, and possibly Egypt, would absorb British military activity for some months to come. There was every reason, however, why the British should not delay the attack upon the shores of Mesopotamia washed by the Persian Gulf. Running down to the left bank of the Shat-el-Arab to a point (Abadam) almost directly opposite the Turkish village of Sanijeh was the enormously important pipe line of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company. Now this pipe line was one of the main supplies of the British navy which, with the launching of the newer superdreadnoughts, was becoming increasingly dependent upon oil instead of coal. So much was this so that the British admiralty some time before the war bought a controlling interest in this same Anglo-Persian Oil Company. It was, then, primarily to protect this fuel supply from a Turkish raid that an early descent upon the Mesopotamian coast was planned.

On November 7, 1914, the Poona Brigade, composed of white and Indian troops, under command of Brigadier General W. S. Delamain, appeared off the Turkish village of Fao, where an antiquated Turkish fort lies amid a grove of palm trees. Against Persian Gulf pirates it could have put up a valiant fight, but it was a poor match for the guns of the British gunboat Odin. The defenders fled and the British force sailed up the Shat-el-Arab. At Sanijeh they effected a landing, intrenched, and awaited the coming of two additional brigades.

It soon became apparent that the Turks, either because they were not prepared or because they preferred to make their real stand nearer their base of supplies, did not intend to offer any serious opposition to the British advance. They adopted tactics designed to harass and delay the invaders, however, and on the 11th of November a small force moved out of Basra and engaged the Indian troops attached to General Delamain's command. After a sharp action the Turks retired. No further opportunity was given them to attack in small force, for two days later Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Barrett arrived at Sanijeh with the Armednagar and the Belgaum Brigades, both made up of Indian troops with a stiffening of British regiments.

By November 16, 1914, the whole of the British forces were ashore, and on the following day at daybreak General Barrett ordered an advance. The main Turkish forces were located at Sahil, about halfway between Sanijeh and Basra. The battle was opened by an artillery duel. The British had a great advantage in the possession of gunboats, upon which had been mounted guns of considerable caliber. The Turks had selected their positions with great skill and knowledge, and despite the heavy artillery preparation, the British troops, when they did advance, were badly punished. Recent rains had made the ground heavy, almost marshy, and the entire absence of vegetation gave the Turkish riflemen and machine-gun crews an excellent chance to work. Slowly the Turks were forced out of their advance positions, but just as the invaders were about to take advantage of the retreat of the enemy a curious phenomenon occurred. Between the advancing British and the retiring Turks a mirage interposed and effectually screened the movements of the latter. Because of this and the heavy ground no pursuit was possible.

This action, resulting in the loss of 353 of the British force and an even larger number of the Turkish troops (estimated by the British at 1,500, but which is almost certainly an exaggeration), decided the fate of Basra. Some opposition was made to the passage of the British river expedition, and at one point an unsuccessful attempt was made to block the passage of the Shat-el-Arab by the sinking of three steamers.

About ten o'clock in the morning of November 22, 1914, the British river force, after silencing a battery that had been hurriedly erected by the Turks just below the town, reached Basra, and General Barrett hoisted the British flag on the German Consulate, the customhouse having been fired by the retreating Turks. Some time was spent by the invaders at Basra in preparing a base.

It was not until December 3, 1914, that Lieutenant Colonel Frazer of General Barrett's force with Indian troops and some of the Second Norfolks advanced on Kurna, fifty miles above Basra, at a point where the Tigris empties into the old channel of the Euphrates. Lieutenant Colonel Frazer's force was accompanied by three gunboats, an armed yacht, and a couple of armed launches. The troops landed four miles below the town and intrenched, while the river force moved up and shelled Kurna. When the troops advanced, it immediately became apparent that the strength of the Turks had been underestimated and that Lieutenant Colonel Frazer's force was much too small to dislodge them. After losing heavily, Frazer ordered a retreat to the intrenchments four miles down the river, and sent word to Basra for reenforcements.

On December 6, 1914, General Fry appeared with additional troops, and plans were laid for attacking Kurna on the flank. Just as the scheme was nearing completion, however, Turkish officers appeared at the English camp and asked for terms. Conditions were refused, and finally the Turks laid down their arms.

With the capture of Kurna the British secured control of the delta of the Euphrates, made impossible any raid upon the Persian Gulf and its oil supply except in great force, and laid the foundations of an ambitious campaign against the strategic points of the whole of Mesopotamia. Elaborate intrenched camps were built at Kurna, and near-by at Mezera, to await the coming of larger forces and supplies.

THE END