The Leicestershires beyond Baghdad

In Short

This book serves as a somber, firsthand chronicle of the British-led campaign in Mesopotamia during the First World War. Focusing on the Leicestershire Regiment and their Indian Army counterparts, it details the grueling push toward Baghdad and the subsequent railhead battles at Samarra and Tekrit. It is a work of witness, written by an officer who served as a chaplain, documenting the tactical realities of desert warfare, the overwhelming presence of death, and the fragile camaraderie that sustained men in an environment they felt the world had largely forgotten.

The Story

The narrative opens in the wake of the tragedy of Kut, positioning the Mesopotamian theater as a "side-show" to the European conflict. The author describes the strategic necessity of capturing Baghdad and the intense fighting on the Diyaleh River that preceded its fall. Once Baghdad is secured, the story shifts to the objective of seizing the Berlin-Baghdad Railway. This leads to a series of sharp, violent engagements at Beled, Istabulat, and eventually Samarra. The author follows the infantry as they traverse a landscape scarred by the ruins of antiquity and the remnants of irrigation systems, where the heat, the dust, and the flies are as much the enemy as the entrenched Turkish forces.

As the campaign progresses, the narrative moves from the "railhead battles"—the final organized efforts of the Turkish army in this region—to the more fluid, irregular fighting at Tekrit. The author meticulously details the tactical maneuvers, the failures of coordination, and the reliance on artillery that defined these desert battles. Interspersed with these military accounts are reflections on the psychological toll of combat: the nervous tension of waiting under shellfire, the exhaustion of the marches, and the sudden, jarring intimacy of the aid-post, where the author finds himself bandaging the wounds of both his own men and the captured enemy.

The narrative does not shy away from the grotesque realities of the war. There are vivid, haunting descriptions of the dead and the wounded, and the bizarre, almost surreal moments that occur in the lull of battle, such as the sight of a sniper left dead in a thorn-bush, or the stoicism of men finding ways to occupy themselves—digging "funk-holes," playing quoits, or observing the local wildlife—amidst the chaos. The arc of the story is defined by the steady, forward momentum of the army, but it is deeply tempered by the loss of friends and the sense that these victories, while strategically vital, occur in a profound, dusty isolation. The book concludes by placing these Mesopotamian actions within the broader context of General Allenby's concurrent offensive in Palestine, emphasizing that the war’s end was a culmination of these disparate, grueling efforts. The author leaves the reader with a final, lingering image of the landscape—a place of "shifting sands" and a "wilderness of graves"—reminding us that the history of this campaign is written in the blood and endurance of the men who marched across it.

How It Unfolds

The march toward Baghdad The narrative establishes the context of the Mesopotamian theater, emphasizing the isolation of the troops and the strategic goal of securing the Tigris. The infantry pushes past Kut, battling thirst and sandstorms to bridge the Diyaleh River and ultimately enter Baghdad.

The battle for the railhead The focus narrows to the campaign to capture the Samarra railway. The author details the tactical challenges of the terrain, where ancient earth-walls provide the only cover against Turkish machine-gun fire and artillery.

The struggle at Istabulat This section documents two major battles, emphasizing the relentless intensity of the shelling and the heavy casualties sustained by both British and Indian units. The author provides a harrowing, immediate look at the aid-post, where the sheer volume of mangled bodies overwhelms the medical capacity.

The concluding operations The story moves to the final organized campaigns at Tekrit and the subsequent smaller-scale engagements. The narrative shifts toward the end of the year, reflecting on the death of General Maude and the fading necessity of further pushes into the Persian borderlands.

The People

The author, serving as a chaplain, acts as the lens through which the reader observes the war. He is a man of intellectual curiosity and deep empathy, often found wrestling with his own nerves while attempting to perform his duties in the aid-post. His "friend Private W----," a Plymouth Brother and gardener, represents the quiet, spiritual resilience of the common soldier, finding comfort in his faith even in the face of death. Captain Newitt, the "genial philosopher" of the 53rd Sikhs, embodies a stoic, imperturbable courage, often seen smoking his pipe amidst the ruins of battle. Then there is the "Cherub," a figure of restless energy who engages in a grim, small-scale war of wits against the local Arabs who desecrate the graves of the fallen. Finally, the Turkish prisoners emerge not as abstract enemies, but as fellow soldiers—men who, when given aid, show "cringing gratitude" and a shared understanding of their mutual suffering. These figures represent the varying ways men cope with the "transitory being" of the battlefield.

In Its Own Voice

"Red of gladiolus glimmering through the wheat-- Red flower of Valour springing at our feet!"

(The author uses these lines to introduce the beauty of the landscape that persists even as the army advances toward the battle at Beled.)

"There is a certain cool centre for the spirit where horror is radiating out to a wide circumference."

(He writes this while describing his own psychological state while waiting under heavy shellfire in the desert.)

"The mud-strips green with lettuce, red with stacks Of liquorice; shattered walls, and gaping caves: Beyond, the shifting sands; the jackal's tracks; The dirging wind; the wilderness of graves."

(This reflection on the landscape serves as a final, melancholic summary of the environment in which the men lived and died.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this is a study of the endurance of the human spirit when confronted with the indifference of nature and the mechanization of death. The book poses fundamental questions about the value of individual lives in a "side-show" campaign and the strange, persistent ways that cultural and historical echoes—from Xenophon to the Crusaders—haunt the modern soldier. It argues that the true reality of war is not found in the grand strategic reports of General Headquarters, but in the small, tactile details: the digging of a hole, the bandage on a stranger's wound, and the shared, quiet terror of the men who hold the line. It is a meditation on the fragility of civilization in the face of a landscape that is, in every sense, "beyond Baghdad."

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for those interested in the often-ignored theaters of World War I. Readers who appreciate vivid, unvarnished prose and a deep, reflective sensibility will find much to engage with here. It offers a rare, ground-level view of the Mesopotamian campaign, capturing the sensory overload of the desert—the heat, the dust, and the constant, unnerving whistle of incoming shells. The author’s style is honest and precise; he does not attempt to romanticize the conflict, nor does he hide his own fears or the "monotonous" nature of the fighting.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the period attitudes embedded in the text, particularly regarding the colonial context of the war and the descriptions of the local Arab population, which reflect the prejudices of the time. The book is not a fast-paced thriller; it is a contemplative, sometimes slow-moving account that demands patience. Those who stay with it will be rewarded by the author's ability to pull beauty and humanity from the "wilderness of graves." What stays with the reader is not just the tactical success of the railhead battles, but the image of the chaplain’s hands, stained red to the elbow, trying to heal the broken bodies of men on both sides of the line.