War in the Garden of Eden, by 
Kermit 
 
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Roosevelt 
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Title: War in the Garden of Eden 
Author: Kermit Roosevelt 
Release Date: October 11, 2004 [eBook #13665] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
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THE GARDEN OF EDEN*** 
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WAR IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN 
by 
KERMIT ROOSEVELT 
Captain Motor Machine-Gun Corps, British Expeditionary Forces 
Captain Field Artillery, American Expeditionary Forces 
Illustrated from Photographs by the Author 
New York 
1919 
 
[Illustration: Kermit Roosevelt. From the drawing by John S. Sargent, 
July 8, 1917] 
 
To 
The Memory of My Father 
 
Contents 
I. OFF FOR MESOPOTAMIA II. THE TIGRIS FRONT III. 
PATROLLING THE RUINS OF BABYLON IV. SKIRMISHES AND 
RECONNAISSANCES ALONG THE KURDISH FRONT V. THE 
ADVANCE ON THE EUPHRATES VI. BAGHDAD SKETCHES VII. 
THE ATTACK ON THE PERSIAN FRONT VIII. BACK THROUGH 
PALESTINE IX. WITH THE FIRST DIVISION IN FRANCE AND
GERMANY 
 
Illustrations 
Kermit Roosevelt Map of Mesopotamia showing region of the fighting 
Ashar Creek at Busra Golden Dome of Samarra Rafting down from 
Tekrit Captured Turkish camel corps Towing an armored car across a 
river Reconnaissance The Lion of Babylon A dragon on the palace wall 
Hauling out a badly bogged fighting car A Mesopotamian garage A 
water-wheel on the Euphrates A "Red Crescent" ambulance A 
jeweller's booth in the bazaar Indian cavalry bringing in prisoners after 
the charge The Kurd and his wife Sheik Muttar and the two Kurds 
Kirkuk A street in Jerusalem Japanese destroyers passing through the 
gut at Taranto 
 
I 
OFF FOR MESOPOTAMIA 
It was at Taranto that we embarked for Mesopotamia. Reinforcements 
were sent out from England in one of two ways--either all the way 
round the Cape of Good Hope, or by train through France and Italy 
down to the desolate little seaport of Taranto, and thence by transport 
over to Egypt, through the Suez Canal, and on down the Red Sea to the 
Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf. The latter method was by far the 
shorter, but the submarine situation in the Mediterranean was such that 
convoying troops was a matter of great difficulty. Taranto is an ancient 
Greek town, situated at the mouth of a landlocked harbor, the entrance 
to which is a narrow channel, certainly not more than two hundred 
yards across. The old part of the town is built on a hill, and the alleys 
and runways winding among the great stone dwellings serve as streets. 
As is the case with maritime towns, it is along the wharfs that the most 
interest centres. During one afternoon I wandered through the old town 
and listened to the fisherfolk singing as they overhauled and mended 
their nets. Grouped around a stone archway sat six or seven women and
girls. They were evidently members of one family--a grandmother, her 
daughters, and their children. The old woman, wild, dark, and 
hawk-featured, was blind, and as she knitted she chanted some verses. I 
could only understand occasional words and phrases, but it was 
evidently a long epic. At intervals her listeners would break out in 
comments as they worked, but, like "Othere, the old sea-captain," she 
"neither paused nor stirred." 
There are few things more desolate than even the best situated 
"rest-camps"--the long lines of tents set out with military precision, the 
trampled grass, and the board walks; but the one at Taranto where we 
awaited embarkation was peculiarly dismal even for a rest-camp. So it 
happened that when Admiral Mark Kerr, the commander of the 
Mediterranean fleet, invited me to be his guest aboard H.M.S. Queen 
until the transport should sail, it was in every way an opportunity to be 
appreciated. In the British Empire the navy is the "senior service," and I 
soon found that the tradition for the hospitality and cultivation of its 
officers was more than justified. The admiral had travelled, and read, 
and written, and no more pleasant evenings could be imagined than 
those spent in listening to his stories of the famous writers, statesmen, 
and artists who were numbered among his friends. He had always been 
a great enthusiast for the development of aerial warfare, and he was 
recently in Nova Scotia in command of the giant Handley-Page 
machine which was awaiting favorable weather    
    
		
	
	
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