Many thanks for your little letter wishing me Godspeed out here, it has only just followed me on, and reached me soon after your letter of September 12th in which you ask me about Persia. I assure you I know less of what is happening in Persia—though we can see the Persian hills from here—than you do. Your letter was my first news of the Consul General’s death, which I have seen since in The Times as well. All I know is that German gold working on the chronic lawlessness has made the whole country intolerably disturbed. The Government is powerless. The disorder is mainly miscellaneous robbery: in the north there is a good deal of hostility to Russia, but nothing approaching organised war or a national rising. In May Arab raiders threatened Ahwaz where the Anglo-Persian Oil Company’s pipe-line runs; and at the Persian Government’s request a force, including 1/4 Hants, went up there and dispersed them. Then in August the unrest in Bushire got acute, and two officers were killed in an ambush. So they sent a force to occupy it. I don’t know how large it was; I imagine two battalions or so and a few guns. Since then I’ve heard nothing. Mark Sykes, whom I saw about October 6th, said he thought things were quieter there now.
For the Persian situation generally, up to last year, the best account I’ve seen is in Gilbert Murray’s pamphlet on “The Foreign Policy of Sir E. Grey.” There’s no doubt these weak corrupt semi-civilised States are a standing temptation to intriguers like the Germans and so a standing danger to peace. That is going to be the crux here too, after the war. If I make up my mind and have the energy, I will write my views more fully on the subject in a week or two.
There is a lull here and no news. But there seems no doubt that we are going to push up to Baghdad. The enemy are now in their last and strongest position, only twenty miles from B.: and we are concentrating against it. Undoubtedly large reinforcements are on their way up, but we don’t know how many. I expect you may look for news from these parts about November 7th.
It is getting quite cold. Yesterday the wind began again and we all had to take to our overcoats, which seems absurd as it was over 80 deg.. To-day it was only 74 deg. indoors all the morning and we sat about in “British warms.” And the nights seem Arctic. To get warm last night I had to get into my flea-bag and pile a sheet, a rug and a kaross on top of that: it was 70 deg. when I went to bed and went down to 62 deg. at dawn. As it goes down to 32 deg. later on, I foresee we shall be smothered in the piles of bed-clothes we shall have to accumulate.
I continue to play football and ride intermittently. I believe I could mount a middle-sized English horse without serious inconvenience now. I have begun to try to pick up a little Arabic from the functionary known as the Interpreter.
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