Hillah [Hillah, Al] Jan 10 Darling Father. I wrote to you almost at the beginning of my fortnight's holiday, and now that I've come almost to the end of it I'll begin another letter. I get back to Baghdad tomorrow and feel very much like one going back to school. I'm not sure that it's a good plan to get out of the cage for a fortnight and enjoy the illusion of days that were almost like a former existence. Certainly I've never realized more keenly than I do now the chains and bonds which war draws about one. I wrote from Karbala, didn't I? I spent 3 days there, saw many people, was greeted by friends from the desert and had the wildest desire to escape into it and be heard of no more. However - I couldn't, so I set my face south and having sent on some horses lent me by Col. Leachman, motored out on the Najaf [Najaf, An] road on Jan 5th, picked up horses and mules and rode in to Tuwairij [Hindiyah, Al (Tuwayrij)], a little town on the Hindiyah branch of the Euphrates. It was a delicious day and the sense of once more finding one's own way about the world was most agreeable. I found an Irrigation officer at Tuwairij, lodged in a bare room in the Govt. offices and spent the afternoon in calling on notables of the place. Next day I packed my servant and luggage into a boat and myself rode down the new canal we have recently dug parallel to the Hindiyah with Mr Pollard, the Irrigation Officer; a wild stormy day with a high wind and flashes of sun. It was a most interesting 3 hours' ride for the whole country has come back into cultivation thanks to our canal and as far as you could see, it was green with barley. At noon we came to the camp of the local Political Officer, Mr Tyler and there I stayed a night in a reed hut, saw shaikhs and heard of all that was going on. Next day was still stormier but fortunately the wind was in the right direction for my boat. I rode as far as Kifl [Kifl, Al], about 3 hours, Mr Tyler setting me on my way. Before I got in the rain came down in torrents and the world became a sticky marsh. But at Kifl I found my boat; also a kind young man in charge of a small post there, who gave me hot cocoa and sardines - most grateful. I mounted a policeman on my horse and myself got into the boat and sailed down to Kufah [Kufah, Al]. The sun came out and though I was pretty damp it was very enjoyable skimming down the river with my big sail outspread. At Kufah I stayed with Captain Balfour, who greeted me with enthusiasm, bless him, and was the most delightful host. In one of his policemen, I found an old friend who had one ridden with me (in 1911) and attached himself forthwith to my service. I part with him - regretfully - tomorrow. I spent the first day in getting dry and in working out tribal geography - and I need scarcely say, in receiving visitors and returning their call. The second day Capt. B. and I went into Najaf where things are not in a satisfactory state, and the third day I went in there again by myself and saw a lot of people. On the 11th Capt. B. and I cast care behind us and started out on a four days' journey down river. There are two channels of the Hindiyah Bellow Kifl, unmapped, or scarcely mapped, and very little known. Kufah stands on the western channel and we rode across about 3 miles to the eastern channel, sending our luggage on pack animals, and found waiting for us the boats previously despatched, into which we packed ourselves and our servants and rowed and punted downstream. We got out here and there to see nearly cleared canals and newly built dams, meeting the big shaikhs and listening to their requests for more help and more seed, or what not. Late in the afternoon after a perfect day, we got to a little village called Umm al Ba'rur which used to be the Turkish administrative centre, and there put up in our Govt. building, most comfortable, with all our own camp furniture in the funny tumble down rooms. The next day was spent in the same charming manner of travel. I can't tell you how delightful is the river in this cold bright weather - the banks fringed with bare red willows, and golden leaved poplars and green palms; and all the country new to me. I've been spending the last 6 months in wondering where the places were from which the shaikhs told me they had come - the shaikhs I saw in Baghdad - and at last to see them and understand the geography was most satisfying. It's a very confusing geography for you must understand that all Mesopotamian rivers run along a ridge, made by their own silt, while the valleys lie parallel on either side. The canals drain down into these parallel depressions and form a marsh. Thus every pair of channels is like this: [illustration] and that plan holds good wherever you may be. When the floods come almost the whole of the intermediate country goes under water, perhaps only the palm gardens along the river banks are left on dry ground. The second day we arrived at dusk at a still smaller village than Umm al Ba'rur and found nothing but a little mud hovel to live in. But the Govt. Agent, a capable and cheerful Baghdadi, produced a fine tent which I pitched on the river bank outside the village, and there I spent a comfortable night. The third day we went down a canal into the marsh and then up another canal to the western channel so that one got a clear idea of the physical geography of it all. These marshy bottoms are where they cultivate rice. All along the canals and the river banks are set the square mud towers of the shaikhs, loopholed for defence, each with its little cluster of mud and reed huts round it. On the edge of the marsh we came to the mud tower house of a big landowning saiyid whom I knew, and stopped to drink coffee in his great reed-built guest house, a huge tunnel some 80 ft long made of evenly arched reed bundles and woven reed mats. The western channel is a truly splendid river, more thickly planted with palms and with a greater population than the eastern. The shaikhs are rich landowners and their mud towers the counterpart of country houses at home. We, however, viewed these things with somewhat clouded minds for news was brought to Capt. B. that there had been a disturbance at Najaf and he was anxious lest anything serious should happen in his absence (It didn't, as a matter of fact.) We refused pressing invitation from various shaikhs to spend the night at their house and with wind and stream against us, got up at dusk to Abu Sukhair [Abu Sukhayr], a little Turkish Govt centre where we have a post. Thence we telephoned to Kufah and found that all was well at Najaf. The previous day's disturbance has, I hope, cleared the air and things will be easier. Nevertheless Capt. B. went in to Kufah next morning early, but I stayed on a bit and walked out through palm gardens to a neighbouring village where I drank coffee with the leading saiyid. He accompanied me back to Kufah telling me on the way tales of the beginning of the war and how they all went out against us at Sha'aibah [Shu'aiba (Ash Shuaybah)] in 1915 but found the Turks not to their liking and returned home without firing a shot. I parted very sadly from Capt. B. next morning, rowed up to Kifl and motored in to Hillah, a road I had ridden along in the old days, stopping on my way, on that former occasion, to see the Tower of BaBell. (I need not say it isn't the Tower of BaBell!) Today I have spent in Hillah, getting hold of geography and tribal stuff. The Political Officer has a charming house on the river where I am staying.
Jan. 18. [18 January 1918] On my way home yesterday (I came in by motor) I stopped at Babylon, having been asked by Sir Percy to advise on what we ought to do about the preservation of antiquities. Tempi passati weigh very heavy there - not that I was thinking of Nebuchadnezzar, nor yet of Alexander, but of the warm welcome I used to find, the good company, the pleasant days spent with dear Koldewey - it's no good trying to think of him as an alien enemy; and my heart ached when I stood in the empty, dusty little room where Fattuh used to put up my camp furniture and the Germans and I held eager conversation over plans of Babylon or Ukhaidhir [Ukhaydir]. - What a dreadful world of broken friendships we have created between us.
So now I'm back, refreshed in body, but still very inefficient in mind. If I continue to be as useless as I have been lately, I shall have seriously to consider future plans. It's all very well to talk of coming home, but you don't seem to realize the difficulties of travel. There is now no sea on which you can move about at will.

Tony Grant has just arrived from India for a few days' visit. I've been dining tonight with him and Sir Percy and feeling that I've entirely lost the art of being in company. Even writing to you is almost too much of a mental effort. It's a horrible bore to be so half-witted.

I found your letter of Nov 13 and 14 and Mother's of Nov 15 waiting for me. Bless you both! the vigour with which you carry on is a constant amazement to me. I'm so much relieved to hear that Maurice is better. I've a delightful letter from Elsa and one from Mary, both of which I should like to answer, but I don't think I'll try this week. Ever your affectionate, if idiotic, daughter Gertrude