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TECHNOLOGY IN AC TION™
Science and
Engineering Projects
Using the Arduino
and Raspberry Pi
Explore STEM Concepts with
Microcomputers
—
Paul Bradt
David Bradt
Science and
Engineering Projects
Using the Arduino
and Raspberry Pi
Explore STEM Concepts
with Microcomputers
Paul Bradt
David Bradt
Science and Engineering Projects Using the Arduino and Raspberry Pi:
Explore STEM Concepts with Microcomputers
Paul Bradt David Bradt
Houston, TX, USA Houston, USA
v
Table of Contents
vi
Table of Contents
Mass�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������78
Velocity and Acceleration������������������������������������������������������������������������������������78
Inertia������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������81
Momentum����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������81
Friction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������81
More Advanced Aspects of Calculus�������������������������������������������������������������������83
Summary������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������84
vii
Table of Contents
viii
Table of Contents
ix
Table of Contents
Astronomy Terms����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������228
Specifications of the Meade ETX-60AT�������������������������������������������������������������229
Setup, Updates, and Repairs�����������������������������������������������������������������������231
Helpful Books����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������232
Index�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������233
x
About the Authors
Paul Bradt has a BS in Computer Science
from the University of Houston–Clear
Lake. He currently owns a small business
and writes books, develops code, and does
IT support work. He has experimented
with the Arduino and Raspberry Pi system
and believes them to be excellent tools for
developing an understanding of electronic
components and hardware interaction in
integrated systems. He believes they are very
useful as a teaching aid in learning computer
programming, science, and engineering. He likes to perform sophisticated
troubleshooting of computer problems and has found that online
resources can be a great help for novice users to get their experiments
operating quickly and effectively.
xi
About the Technical Reviewer
Sri Manikanta Palakollu is an undergraduate student pursuing his
bachelor’s degree in Computer Science and Engineering at SICET under
JNTUH. He is a founder of the OpenStack Developer Community in his
college. He started his journey as a competitive programmer. He always
loves to solve problems that are related to the data science field. His
interests include data science, app development, web development,
cybersecurity, and technical writing. He has published many articles
on data science, machine learning, programming, and cybersecurity in
publications like Hacker Noon, freeCodeCamp, Noteworthy, and DDI
through the Medium platform.
xiii
Acknowledgments
This book would not be possible without the authors’ gaining early
technical insight regarding the Raspberry Pi and Arduino from others.
Jared Brank and Dennis Pate provided a lot of basic information, key
insights, and Arduino hardware early in the process. The authors thank
the following individuals who listened to them on many occasions and
provided help, insight, and inspiration with their own experiences with
the Raspberry Pi and other projects: Jeff Dunehew, Todd Franke, and Fitz
Walker. Additionally, significant assistance with 3D printing was provided
by Mitch Long and David Thoerig.
Producing this book would not have been possible without the
excellent help and guidance regarding scope and early editorial reviews
by Joanna Opaskar and Ed Weisblatt. The authors also utilized many
ideas from Andrew Bradt and Laura Brank’s science fair experience. Most
important was the support and advice from Andrea Bradt.
xv
Introduction
The authors’ journey developing this book started in 2013 when they
discovered the Arduino microcontroller. It is interesting how something big
really starts with one step as they found the Arduino incredibly powerful.
Users are able to program it with computer code, and then it executes its
instructions for as long as it has power. The authors started evaluating
various applications of the Arduino around the house and in their hobby
endeavors. In 2017, they started experimenting with the Raspberry Pi
minicomputer which enables users to take projects to a whole new level
with a low-cost computer that interfaces with sensors. Since a Raspberry
Pi is very affordable, a real computer can now be dedicated to operating a
system permanently. While requiring some technical steps to set up, both
of these tools can be used to gather data, automate tasks, and provide a
lot of fun. The authors found it very satisfying to watch a device do several
tasks, especially when they set it up. This book chronicles some science
and engineering projects the authors developed over the past few years
and provides helpful hints, along with a few things to avoid.
There are two primary areas of focus or goals of this book. The first goal
is to help the reader explore the Arduino and Raspberry Pi. The second
goal is exploring science and engineering in interesting and fun ways.
The projects and concepts in this book are meant to accomplish
the first goal by providing information to get an Arduino or Raspberry
Pi system set up, running, and ready to capture data. The text provides
enough detail for users with average assembly or electrical skills to
complete them. Additionally, the goals of learning are to gain knowledge
and skills. When the reader engages in a project that requires them to
try new things, it reinforces how they learn and gain confidence and
encourages them to try even more complex tools and techniques.
xvii
Introduction
What Is STEM?
STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) is a program
based on educating students in science, technology, engineering, and
mathematics in an integrated, interdisciplinary approach to learning.
School systems today strive to improve education in STEM. This goal is
an area where educators can use outside help developing and improving
students’ knowledge when they actively contribute, design, and build
hands-on projects. In many ways, the young mind is excited and motivated
building projects. They develop an in-depth understanding of what is
required and how it works. The authors believe this is the best way to learn
and remember these concepts, which results in a solid STEM foundation
for students.
A question not often understood is how the scientific method is different
from an engineering approach. Understanding the difference between
science and engineering can be seen in the original Star Trek series.
xviii
Introduction
Mr. Spock was the science officer, and Montgomery Scott (Scotty) was
the chief engineer. Their jobs and how they approached new scenarios
or problems really provide a great explanation about the differences
and similarities between science and engineering. Let’s examine some
examples.
Mr. Spock used the term fascinating when describing a new event
or phenomenon. The role of science is to expand knowledge and
investigate new events. This fascination with new and unique areas is
key for a scientist. Scotty, the engineer, on the other hand always had to
fix the warp engines, the transporter, or some other critical system. The
normal role of an engineer is to develop and implement solutions to
problems. In one of the episodes, Scotty indicated he would rather read
his engineering journals to learn about how others solved problems
than go on shore leave!
Science
Researchers use the scientific method as a tool to understand questions
in their area of interest. Based on the information they have initially,
they develop a hypothesis and then methods to test the validity of the
hypothesis. When sufficient test data are gathered and analyzed, the
researcher either accepts or rejects the hypothesis. In many cases, positive
or negative results point to the next step or direction of exploration and
contribute to the general body of scientific and engineering knowledge.
Engineering
The primary goal of engineering is to evaluate alternatives and choose
the optimal solution to minimize or eliminate specific problems or issues.
Solutions are not necessarily new, but may be repurposed concepts
applied to different problem areas. Other aspects of engineering include
xix
Introduction
xx
Introduction
Both Mr. Spock and Scotty realized they needed each other (science
and engineering) to accomplish the goals of exploration and keep
the Enterprise flying safely through space. In today’s complex world,
integrating science and engineering is key to researching problems and
developing solutions.
In the following chapters, the authors will demonstrate all of the
components of STEM needed to research scientific questions, use new
technology (Arduino and Raspberry Pi), employ engineering techniques,
and use mathematics to quantify the scientific data. As Star Trek boldly
went forth to explore new worlds, the authors hope the students of today
do the same!
xxi
CHAPTER 1
A
rduino Basics
The Arduino is a powerful microcontroller that is ready to program and
acts as an intermediary device between a personal computer and various
sensors. It is relatively new technology that is a great tool for gaining
insight into physical properties and other scientific parameters.
The Arduino board was first developed in Italy in 2004 as a tool to help
train students in programming. It is an open source tool and as such has
developed a large base of helpful web sites and user groups. It represents
a breakthrough as an easy-to-use, relatively inexpensive, programmable
interface between a computer and various sensors. The software
development package and all of the online resources help make this an
ideal data logging tool for science fair/college projects.
The Arduino, Adafruit, SparkFun, Hacktronics, and other web sites are
great places to start. There are also several introductory books to help the
researcher get started using this device. Getting started with Arduino by
Banzi is a very good beginner’s book on Arduino.
Other sources of information for the Arduino novice are maker faires
and user group activities.
© Paul Bradt and David Bradt 2020 1
P. Bradt and D. Bradt, Science and Engineering Projects Using the Arduino and Raspberry Pi,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-5811-8_1
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
There are several versions and sizes, but for the projects in this book,
the Arduino Uno and the Integrated Development Environment (IDE)
version 1.89 were utilized. Figure 1-1 shows an example of the Arduino
Uno. The authors recommend for the person unfamiliar with Arduinos
to use an official version and not a clone. The authors have never
experienced a problem with an official Arduino, but there are many clones,
and the authors have experienced problems with one of them.
A
rduino Setup
Setting up an Arduino is relatively straightforward; the reader should
follow these basic steps to get the device running:
These steps sound basic, and after the reader completes these steps a few
times, they will see how easy it is to connect and run an Arduino. In many cases,
2
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
the challenges occur with the code. If the reader is copying code from a source,
it is important to type it in exactly as it looks. Even then there could be errors, but
that is part of the adventure, and it’s very rewarding when the code runs.
P
orts and Interfaces
Figure 1-3 shows the main ports of the Arduino Uno.
3
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
There are five primary port groupings that are used to connect to the
Arduino:
4
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
There are other components and hardware that can be used with the
Arduino:
5
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
6
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
7
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
Raspberry Pi Basics
The Raspberry Pi 3 is a powerful minicomputer. This piece of technology
comes with a lot of features like any other modern computer. It is an
experimental/hobbyist device developed around 2011 in the United
Kingdom to teach programming. For its low cost, it has many capabilities
and allows the user to configure it in many ways. There are several models
on the market. For this book, the authors choose the Raspberry Pi 3
Model B V1.2 (Figures 1-4 and 1-5). There is a new Raspberry Pi 4 that
was recently released that has more features. The authors researched the
setup and use of the Raspberry Pi 4, and it appears to be the same as the
Raspberry Pi 3. We believe these projects will work the same if you have a
Raspberry Pi 4.
8
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
9
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
Raspberry Pi Setup
These are the general steps to set up the Pi:
1. Insert the SD card.
2. Plug in the monitor.
3. Plug in the keyboard.
4. Plug in the mouse.
10
Chapter 1 Key Technology Tools
For the purposes of this book, the authors will focus primarily on how
to connect sensors to the Raspberry Pi and get data out of them. There are
many other uses for the Raspberry Pi that will not be covered in this text.
Figure 1-7 shows the General-Purpose Input/Output or GPIO pins,
although it may not be easy to determine the pin number on the Raspberry Pi.
A ribbon cable is also shown that connects to a nice interface board made
by MCM. This interface board has pin numbers and makes it a lot easier to
connect sensors to the Raspberry Pi. More about this in the next chapter.
11
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
He is half child and half savage. His predilection and habits are like
those of a child. He takes offence at small things, like a child. Like a
child, he responds to small favours. And Germany is the last country
to take the Turk successfully under her wing. England, I believe,
alone could do it. We could utilize the Turkish talent for soldiering
and practical affairs, removing from their midst these over-corrupt
officials and Government, whom they detest. We should win their
confidence by applying rigid and accessible justice between them
and the Greek and Armenian, who would find unswerving adherence
to law and order unavoidable. Religious toleration we could grant,
and I believe that within a few years, Turkey would settle
comfortably under our influence, and learn to trust us. But as it is,
the country is rotten, the habits rotten, and so many wretched
corrupt Turks are in authority, that one feels inclined to sweep them
all away.
October 1st.—Loud shouting and cheering and wild stampede
towards the restaurant dining-room announced that another mail
had come. We all go quite mad on these occasions, and charge past
postas, knocking over chairs or each other, and crowd around the
table while the letters are given out.
I have heard again from home, written before Kut fell. I wonder
what sort of a time they picture me having. Kut still seems to have
been kept dark from everybody, and especially so the trek; but I
shall always remember the great thoughtfulness and affection of our
friends reaching out to our lonely life across thousands of miles of
sea and land. With these letters I am among the heath of
Camberley, the hills of New Zealand, and the 'buses of London, once
again.
The commandant or kaimakam (colonel) is a foolish and babyish
fellow, and also a rogue; but I, for one, believe he has less vice in
him than the other junior officer, Sheriff Bey, who is a dangerous and
treacherous villain. The old kaimakam does rake up a smile when we
try to be happy, and although the Tartar is often apparent, he has,
on occasion, given us such a privilege as a special walk.
We are trying to erect some structure of habits wherein to dwell until
God's good time allows us to get away from here. Thus we make
cakes twice a week. This will last a little longer until prices become
too outrageous. Which makes two events. Church and bazaar and
Turkish bath make three more, total of five altogether, and these,
scarcely incidents in another's life, but episodes in ours, punctuate
the vacuum of time in which we roll. At 6.30 a.m. there is chota
haziri, tea and toast, for which we have made private arrangements.
Then one smokes or sleeps again. At 9 we have breakfast of eggs
and milk and butter and bread. With a posta at our heels we return
to our own house, 150 yards away. Then some sleep, some play
cards, some merely sit on a chair. Others of us write diaries or re-
read an old book. We have lunch of fatty foods and smoke and
sleep. We have tea (our own bandobast again) after which there
may be a walk. We all set off under a guard, and are trying to get
farther afield. Once a week a long walk is allowed. On returning
some of us change, even if it is to put aside one torn shirt for
another or a spare jacket. But in these times I jealously guard every
conventional cable that anchors one to the decent life. There is a
tendency to allow the coma to steal over one's personality. This, I
think, one should combat. Dinner over, we have to wait in the
mektub, a boresome hour. We attempt bridge or chess. Back again
in our room we smoke awhile and sleep. It may read nicely, but in
truth, it is a sorry existence. Still, day by day, the structure grows,
and who knows, in a few months we may have a palace like the
pleasure dome of Kubla Khan!
The extraordinary thing is that one is so secluded. One seems on the
other side of creation's wall—in the backwash of the waters. But we
all know it only seems so. The stream of Time flows on, sweeping
along with it great events in the changing scene from which we here
are far removed. I have ever been of a restless nature, and I am told
this may operate as a rest cure. One hundred and fifty miles from
the nearest railway, and that far from anywhere, locked in by
mountains bordering the Black Sea, cut off from papers and books
and news, in a town that but awakes and sleeps, with no public
institutions or even a picture theatre, one has left for a hobby only
the delivery of direct interrogatories to oneself, and the supplying of
answers thereto. I believe this is a supreme test of character, and
may prove a strength to some and a ruination to others.
Sometimes an event overtakes us. For instance, I have been placed
in "gaol" for a short time, and the incident was so funny I must set it
down.
One day, while I was filling in notes of this diary, I observed one of
the flimsy untied curtains was ablaze. How it started I can only
conjecture. Either it blew on to the hot cigarette ash tray, or a hot
part of a cigarette must have fallen down near the bed and caught in
the curtain. These local cigarettes are wretched things and burn
furiously, the head often falling off so that it is a common thing to
find one's clothes alight. I ripped the curtain down and stamped it
out. The two beds had caught, and the room filled with smoke. I
stamped out the fire and doused the bed with water. As it still
smouldered I flung it out of the door. And then they came, Turks,
choushs, postas, Sheriff Bey, the kaimakam himself, and I began to
expect the Sultan. They were very angry, a fire having occurred in
the Gurkhas' quarters a few days previously. They persisted in saying
I tried to burn the house down and to set fire to Kastamuni. That
afternoon a sort of court-martial was made of it, and I was arraigned
before the Turkish Commandant, thinking it a delightful joke. Their
serious faces amused me. I told them it was an accident, that I was
sorry, that I would pay the damage, and after a debate of ordinary
budget length, the kaimakam decided to let me off on my paying a
lira. (The curtain would have cost about ten piastres, and the bed
was only singed.) Then Sheriff Bey stormed and protested for more
punishment, and I was sent under an escort after handing over all
my smokes and matches, to a dirty iron-barred cellar room in a
house used by the kaimakam as an office. It was full of paper, and
there was no bed or chair. I had no supplies at all. When I was left
in peace I took a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Virginibus
Puerisque" from my pocket, and sitting in a corner started to read.
Presently I became aware of an eye watching me through the crack.
In fact, I was just on the point of lighting up from a spare cigarette
case and matches in my hip pocket. The eye changed. Still reading, I
observed several peering and whispering, so taking a pencil and
paper from my pocket I went through the form of writing a letter to
our Foreign Minister via the American Ambassador, complaining of
my treatment. Then pointing to the eye, I called for the interpreter,
informing him that I wanted this letter to be shown to the
kaimakam, and that even if he didn't send it I should take care that
our Government took the matter up and dealt with those responsible
when I was free. The result was he bolted from the room, and in ten
minutes reappeared with a posta, and said I was free. Sheriff Bey
met me at the top of the road, and proceeded to harangue me about
wanting to frighten me only.
Bluff is the only thing, and their ignorance one's only chance. Since
then, however, the kaimakam has treated me with extraordinary
respect, so much so, that I have successfully refused to obey his
order to pay for what I have not had, i.e. food in the mektub for all
the time I was sick. The best way to treat these Turks is to be
distantly polite. Much annoyance and trouble has been caused
through some officers chumming up to them, plying them with
drinks, and conducting them by the arm here and there. The next
day there's a row about some point of pay or privilege, and the Turk
thinks himself snubbed. The net result is that the Turk, being our
captor, is in much the better position to hit back. This he does
vigorously, with insulting titles and notices that make life a great
burden. Some of their notices posted up in the mektub are
screamingly funny. The following are actual samples, with spelling
corrected—
1. "English imprisoned officers cannot only please
themselves by disobeying the Turkish posta who have the
order of them. Neither can they go past the posta or
outside the door. In which case the posta can beat them
with the stick or rough handle the officer or officers
concerned."
2. "English officers ought to pay their money willingly.
Why do they have the trick of deceiving the peasants and
poor Turkish subjects, which is dishonest?
(Sd.) "Teufik,
"Kaimakam."
3. "Officers cannot talk to any one except themselves,
strong punishments will pursue swiftly. What is the use of
pouring dirty water into the street? Surely they need not
chivvy 'bints' in the bazaar, and officers educated in
London could know better. When officers go for a walk in
charge of a posta they shall not go to the front or the
posta gets behind in which case the posta has orders to
shoot or remonstrate with the culprit. Let every one pay
the price in the bazaar and let them pay all their money to
Usnu, the contractor, who is not a robber.
(Sd.) "Teufik,
"Kaimakam."
4. "It has been taken to my notice that English officers
never stop kicking up a shinty (shindy) in their rooms.
Cards will be stopped. Let us not play cards or kick up any
more shindy. You shall behave civilized."
5. "In future great supplies of liquor and cognac will not
be drunk by our order as the floor of the school will go
through. In which case the officers concerned cannot hold
Turkish authorities responsible if they meet death. Also
punishment must be given. Officers will be always tidy the
room. Why choose the pig-stye? This is also a punishable
affair.
(Sd.) "Teufik,
"Commandant."
6. "Officers are allowed the bath and bazaar and footer.
Why not go about properly dressed. Surely no hat or in
the hand is not properly dressed. Sticks are forbidden and
officers cannot walk with sticks. It is forbidden to get
drunk or sing as the noise stops the sleep of neighbours.
If a fire starts it goes. Therefore don't smoke in bedrooms
for God sake.
(Sd.) "Teufik,
"Commandant,
"British Prisoners' Camp."
And so on. The explanation of these extraordinary documents is that
some of the postas (bluebottles we call them) being old dug-outs,
can't keep up with us when we walk, and trail out behind. The
people in the town do us down at every turn, and we have to argue
and bargain to get anything. In fact, we enjoy it. As regards the
noise, some of us have a sing-song on every other Saturday in the
mektub, and the Turks fear our applause may be too much for the
floor. Regarding the "bints" we, not having spoken to the gentler sex
from periods ranging to two years, have taught some Greek
dreadnoughts to wish us good morning. The fire episode was, of
course, due to me. Their Captain, Sheriff Bey, is the source of most
of the trouble, and he stirs up the old kaimakam. Sheriff Bey is
captain of the guard, and is at once treacherous and spiteful. To be
sure he had for a time captured the ear of a few of our officers who
were misled by his lubricity and perpetual smiles. He fawns upon
them, defaming his own country, which he predicts will be finished in
a few weeks, and has decided to leave Turkey after the war. I
loathed the man more than ever on hearing him speak of his country
so. They say he is spying on the kaimakam in order to get his
command.
On arriving here we all hoped to get away within a few weeks, as
there was rumour of an advance in the West. At present, however,
the indications are, at any rate, for a winter campaign.
CHAPTER X
WINTER—OUR "SELF-MADE"
ORCHESTRA
February 1st, 1917.—Four months have gone. As I write the earth is
white with feet of snow. It is a white world, the roofs no longer
brown, the trees no longer green, for even those few trees, like
pines that have not shed their verdure, have donned the white
raiment of winter's carnival. Snow! This pure and godly element,
silent and secretive, the avant-courrier of the Ultimate, of Things
doomed, one day to be reclaimed by the once again triumphant
elements when, from the dome of the universe, the last white great
snow sheets shall fall, fall, fall—and this universe, once again locked
in the ice-grip of the Snow God, shall drive forward mysteriously on
its lonely way—lonely for it shall have been separated from Life, and
the Spirit, Man, will have gone.
As I look out on the undulating expanse terraced down to me from
the mountain horizon to the northward, I am for a minute tempted
to believe that the Great Snow Deluge has really come, and I alone
am awake to behold it. But looking still closer I see tiny windows
peeping out from their white frames, and I know the bees within
that human hive are having their winter sleep. With an effort I trace
among the smothered definition of the buildings, the snowed-up
roads and alleys, and rising above it all I see, scattered over the
town, the white upright minarets of the mosques. Kastamuni in
wintertime is a picturesque Turkish town, and has a character all its
own. The streets are deserted, but on the hill-path white-mottled
figures move slowly upwards. It is the hour of prayer, and the
muezzin has just begun to swell out in icy circles from the minarets,
reaching out to the hearts of the prayerful, and calling them to
communion with Allah. La illaha, illa la. There is but one God, and
that is God. From how many thousands of mosques, and for how
many millions of the followers of the prophet does the muezzin cry
at this hour?
And so I, too, find my silence unlocked after all these months and
am at last persuaded to throw off the coma that has been stealing
over us body and soul, that has buried beneath its snow-drift our
intentions one by one, and I am tempted to jot down a few more
notes to my reminiscences.
Sometimes, as the other day, we are allowed to take down the bob-
sleighs we have made to a hill about a mile away, and pretend we
are schoolboys again. After snowballing the starters and getting
snowballed ourselves, we shot down the slope or over the bank, as
the case occurred, and once or twice we collided, but no one got
seriously hurt. The hard toiling uphill again, pulling the sleigh,
proved how unfit we were. On the way home we religiously
snowballed every fowl we passed, and the roads are full of them.
The days are dreadfully dreary, and it is only these events that seem
to lighten the monotonous gloom. Firewood is very scarce and
expensive, and only on rare occasions do we have a fire worth
anything. If we do by chance have wood it is often wet, and the
wretched tin stoves choke the place with smoke. I half decided to
have a stove in my bedroom, but, besides that being fearfully small,
the trouble is to get wood, which comes in tiny donkey loads at
fictitious prices. So we lie in bed under the clothes, and with the
intense cold sleep steals over us. There is the same difficulty in
getting kerosene, now five shillings a bottle, and what one gets
either goes out, or splutters until you kick it out. We hibernate,
therefore. Once or twice it has been so cold that I have gone down
to the kitchen and sat by the smoke heap there. This is very popular
these days.
Letters are turning up more regularly. I am delighted to have at last
heard from home and several friends all over the world, including
the brilliant author of "Problems of Philosophy." He has very kindly
sent me some books and recommends me to see Schiller on
"Grumps." I also heard from Wallace, from whom I have not heard
for years and years, and to whom I wrote in Kut along with people in
the neglected recesses of my memory, but the letter, of course, was
never sent. It must be eleven years since he and I sat on the golden
sand of a green-vestured island in that silvery sea around Auckland
—smoking our pipes as we lay on our backs, and filling in with a
wish what we wanted to complete the scene. I remember wanting
the suitable girl, but he wanted books and debate. In between are
my world travels, and Cambridge, and Germany, and now I've been
running about in a war, and he, since a professor in Princetown,
writes to condole with me at being out of the war so early! He ought
to congratulate me on my luck in staying in it so long. But then, of
course, he can't know anything about Kut yet.
It seems I have been reported dead in Kut, and again on the trek,
and in England they are only just hearing to the contrary. What an
unnecessary suspense for one's people! Mine have been
magnificent, even throughout the long period of tragic rumour.
About my other friends at Cambridge, and in the regiment, and in
France, I never hear a word.
Parcels have arrived, thank Heaven, from several friends. Sir Thomas
Mackenzie has been a perfect trump, and the most wonderful and
thoughtful parcels from a very kind heart in Australia. The first three
or four have arrived. My dear old friends, the Pallisers, remember me
faithfully. And Lord Grey, not forgetting the lonely subaltern in the
middle of Asia who once held forth on Imperial affairs sketched out
by the cloistered lawns of the Cam, has sent me kind messages and
a fortnightly parcel. One's emotions of thankfulness and gratitude
are infinite. I feel it is my duty to buck up every ounce possible
when one of the busiest and most over-worked men in England, in
indifferent health, too, finds time to think of a worthless subaltern
like me. My Camberley friends also have sent me some parcels, and
some wonderful letters. These momentous things happen only once
in a while, but when they do they tell us that somewhere beyond
these snow-bound mountains are English hearts that are glad we are
come through so far, which means they know we have tried and are
chiefly sorry we are chained because we can't try again.
Some few books have also arrived from time to time, but only old
ones are allowed through, though sometimes we manage to conceal
one or two. This, however, is very difficult, as all parcels have to be
opened before the Turkish authorities. We have formed a library, and
the indefatigable librarian, Herepath, who catalogues the books and
shikars every one a moment overdue, caused us infinite delight
months ago by placing in the library most of Kipling's works which
he had miraculously brought through with him from Kut. We devour
anything in the reading line, especially now, as bridge has fallen off.
None of the many books sent to me have turned up so far, and have
probably been intercepted at Constantinople, whither even those
that do arrive here have to be sent back for censorship.
No games outside except an occasional soccer match are played now
as the ground is too hard. One highly interesting tournament was,
however, recently completed. Eight soccer teams participated, and
we ran two bookies on the field. I have not played since Christmas
Day when, in getting down to a forward rush, I had several giants
on top of me and twisted my knee badly. Just before this, however,
as left three-quarter in a match against the Lower House I scored
one of the hardest tries since I was a boy. One can't run much these
days, but I did it diving for the line as a nailed fist left four ruddy
tracks from my neck down my back. Even then we lost the match by
two goals to a goal and a try. I came to the conclusion that my
conceit was excusable.
Christmas passed quietly enough. We consumed a tremendous
amount of cognac and mastik, and anything else going, regardless of
price, and for a few hours we quite took charge of things. There was
a concert of sorts with a few banjo items and a farce at the end
which was more ridiculous than funny, but it served as well.
On Christmas Eve we eluded the postas, and about midnight, while
trying to correct my bearings for the house, for I had somehow got
downhill, I saw a figure of him we call the Admiral (a naval
paymaster), who evidently having wearied of trying to discipline his
legs had given it up and was crawling vigorously on all fours in the
dark. The sight of this white figure crawling mysteriously along in
the darkness, believing himself unobserved, made me shout with
laughter. The Admiral put on a huge spurt when he heard it!
But the feature of Christmas was the children's party we gave by
special leave of the kaimakam. For days we had been cooking
tartlets and cakes and macaroons. They knew it was on, and before
breakfast a big crowd of children and mothers had accumulated near
our alley-way. We took our long table and spread upon it "our
events," as we called them, including apples and special quantities
of milk and nuts. The poor little wretches are half-starved. For weeks
previously we had given them bits of bread, so that each one of us
had an "adopted" nipper. But besides our little pals—mostly Greek,
but some Turks—dozens of youngsters from far and wide had turned
up, some in their mothers' arms. Sam Mayo, an ex-sergeant-major,
took charge and formed them into column of route, mothers and all.
He did splendidly. There was much crying and yelling, but he got
them in order and then made them file past. I don't think we had
laughed so much for many months. Each one of us soon found
himself administering milk to a monthling in one arm with half a
dozen brats into one's pockets or wrestling with one's legs at the
same time. Once there was a stampede set up by a "Young Turk
Party" (boys of eight and upwards), and we each had to grab all the
mites by a leg or an arm and hold them up out of harm's way. One
or two got a bit squashed as it was. The supreme joke was when
Sam was proudly showing us how to coax a tiny infant to eat a
macaroon; it got so enthusiastic as to bite a half inch of his thumb
nearly off. "The little devil nipped like a mongoose," yelled Sam,
upsetting his second youngster into the sweet rock that stuck en
bloc to its head. We enjoyed ourselves as much as they. The postas,
with one or two exceptions, helped us. The poor little wretches ate
and drank as if they hadn't for a week at least. Then we had a
scramble among the larger children for the nuts and surplus, and
when the fights had subsided gave them some piastre notes.
Altogether it was a great show and made us very happy.
The people, we hear, couldn't understand at first how war veterans
could worry about children. But you require to be a prisoner of war
with no privilege of speaking to any one, adult or child, to
understand the meaning of children. The after result was that for
days and days a huge swarm of youngsters followed us everywhere
we went yelling "Backsheesh" and "Ekmek" (bread) and "Chocolate."
Shortly after Christmas an Armenian turned up with a violin of sorts.
I had been on the look-out for one for months. He wanted a
fictitious price, and it wasn't a good one but fairly loud. The strings
were on the wrong pegs, and such strings surely never existed
before on any violin. The bow wanted some hair restorer badly. I
tuned it up and powdered the few remaining hairs well on a lump of
gummy resin, probably off a pine-tree, and then, by the smoking
stove of a Turkish fire, I began to play—the first time for years and
years. The room was empty but every one came up from below to
see what on earth had happened. I found I had forgotten
everything. After a half-hour bits of Beethoven, Raff, Dvorak and
Vieuxtemps came back to me, but they wanted waltzes and
marches. The end of it was they persuaded me to buy the thing. I
practised assiduously for two or three hours a day for weeks and
then the bow began to collapse and the strings gave out.
It was now dreadfully cold in one's room, but we managed to have
some cheery evenings. Banjos made of hide stretched over tins
purchased at the bazaar did quite well for an accompaniment. One
of our number, Lieutenant Munro, has shown a deal of skill in
cabinet making, and has turned out a 'cello which is the queerest
thing in the whole world, looking rather like a dough roll squeezed
considerably in the middle by a small boy until its waist threatens to
go altogether. But it makes a noise. My violin is improving
wonderfully, and I have found some bad strings in an Armenian
shop.
In other words, my violin has grown to a band composed of two
violins, a 'cello, a cracked flute, a clarionet, and banjos. The Admiral
plays a little, and having unearthed another fiddle has come in as
second violin. Major Davis plays the violin a little, and we are going
to fossick others out. Drums are under construction, and another
'cello is to follow. Remains the music. As none has ever been seen in
Kastamuni probably since the town existed, nor can be obtained
anywhere or is allowed through, we have to write our own. This
involves composition. There was luckily a volume of Prout's Harmony
that turned up at Christmas, so one or two with leisure hours are
working at it hard. We have had five practices. I never could have
believed I would endure such an offensive noise, let alone help to
make it! "Dreaming" and "Destiny" and "The Girl on the Film" were
the first things we attempted. It was a thin stream of trickling
melody followed by the weirdest of side noises!
How dreadfully cold it is, and how interminably long the winter
seems! Malaria and colds have pursued us. Our boots have collapsed
everywhere, and the few pairs in the bazaar cost over eight liras.
Here, again, we have fallen back on ourselves, and two officers
started repairing in an institution called the "Snob's Shop." They are
now quite good at it, and turn out really fine work. The only leather
obtainable, however, is rotten local stuff.
Other prices have risen steadily. The wretched tea available is about
two liras a pound, and there is little of that. Sugar is ten shillings a
pound, coffee dearer than tea, meat two shillings a pound, and
wood works out at about three-pence a stick. The wonder is how all
these people live. Many are pinched and haggard, and funeral
processions in the snow are more frequent. The Turkish contractor
at the mektub has been playing the extortionate rôle, and for weeks
we have threatened to strike and had meeting after meeting. The
net result has been to get the Turks' backs up against us, and it
seems evident enough that the military authorities are in the
financial swim with the fleecers. We have almost decided to mess
ourselves—the chief objection to this being that every obstacle will
be put in our way and prices will go up accordingly in the bazaar.
The other day we were allowed our permitted long walk and took
the direction of the pine woods, away up the long ascent. We trod in
young snow a few inches deep. It was a glorious walk with the tiny
bronze pines peeping through the white sheets that stretched from
horizon to horizon over hill and valley. We climbed until on a patch of
upland from which the sun had ousted the snow, thousands of tiny
crocuses invited us to stop and listen to their premature whispers of
spring. But since then winter seems to have fastened on us another
clutch of unmistakable proprietorship. On our way back we stopped
at our cemetery, which has gradually grown larger since we came.
Last November the survivors of the unfortunate yacht Nida reached
us. She had struck a mine near Alexandretta and lost half her crew.
The commander had a terribly rough trip here, and the disaster
seemed to have preyed upon his mind. He died in the hospital here,
poor fellow. Recently we buried a gunner orderly arrived from
Angora. He had belonged to the 82nd R.F.A., and came with the last
batch allowed us by the authorities as the result of continuous
applications. The reports they brought of the men were simply
terrible. Hundreds of them seem to have perished in the cold. The
sick were allowed to die without any attention whatever. A daily loaf
of bread and one blanket, and often no medical care at all, had
accounted for hundreds. Whole regiments are wiped out. Father Tim
and the Reverend Wright, who were recently ordered to Kara Hissah
for the other officers, managed to get a line back to us to the effect
that the reports about the men were true. Rumours are in the air
that General Townshend has gone home on parole and is arranging
for us to be exchanged or go to a neutral country. One can't hope
for that. We have heard in the bazaar that Kut once more is in our
hands. Thank God!
May 1st.—At last the winter has gone, but it went slowly and fought
a strenuous rearguard action up to quite recently. How jolly it is to
have dismantled those wretched tin stoves and be able to write and
read in one's room once more. Walks have been resumed, and lead
us even further and further afield. Many changes have overtaken us
—changes seemingly insignificant and yet to us very momentous.
We started to run our own mess in February, the Turks taking away
all our Turkish and Greek servants and making us rely on our own
orderlies. They prove themselves more childish and more babyish
every week. An inquiry was held into affairs here, and the old
kaimakam was thrown out, but Sheriff Bey, the worst of all, lied his
way into remaining. Our new kaimakam is a more decent fellow,
speaks German, and has lived in Berlin for four years. We have had
him up to dinner, and it fell to me to do all the talking to him about
Berlin. He means well, and has done all he can to help us, but he is
so dreadfully afraid of Sheriff Bey and his own restrictions.
The band has made great strides. I'm now first violin and leader of
the "Orchestra." We have five violins, two 'cellos and a double bass,
besides the drums, two clarionettes, flute, and banjo, and the
Human Crochet has made commendable progress in writing out our
music from bits of anything we got through the post, piano solos,
and many we have had to write from memory. We perform on
Saturday evenings alternately at either house. Sometimes we sound
almost like a seaside band at Home!!! I long for the old Queen's Hall
Concerts again. To attend even those, I would willingly forget the
London Symphony or Nikisch's at the Gewandhaus in Leipsig. The
band is almost the only live thing here. One pines for music. Every
evening I can get (so to speak) with my violin beyond these forests
and mountains. My window overlooks the town and I have quite an
audience of Turkish heads listening. I am told the sound carries as
far as the muezzin. These people have not heard any music in their
lives, and think my crude efforts quite divine. Books arrive slowly.
Swinburne has never come. But we have Shakespeare and some of
Thackeray and a lot of cheap stuff.
With the advent of spring we all responded to the call and took fresh
hope and formed new resolves. Amongst them I started a fortnightly
paper called Smoke, the Kastamuni Punch and Tatler. In a rash
moment I finally consented to the "General's" request, the General
being Captain Kirkwood, our Mess-President. So far it has been a
decided success. Our artist was an officer from the Lower House
whose handy pen finished the cartoon and illustrated the serial and
verse. The paper was not wholly given to ragging and joking, but in
a serious corner we discussed aspects of Kut and the Trek and
Kastamuni and the war. We also ran fictitious notes from Kara Hissa,
Yozgad, Brusa (where the generals are), and "Eve" of the Tatler
finally came to live in Kastamuni to cheer us up with a certain
famous chaperone called "The Destroyer." The most popular article
amongst our own mess was the current one called "The Oblong
Table," at which we all sat—King Arthur, Sir John Happy Tight, Sir
Saundontius the Good, Sir Sulphurous Blears, Sir Bedevere le Géant,
Sir Leslie Bee de Canard, Sir Cliftus Smallkake, Sir Samuel Longbow,
Sir Carol le Filbert, Sir Richard Oldlace, Sir Pompous Oldass, Sir
Lancelot the Bard, Sir Galahad the Silent, and Sir Rufus Appletree.
And we lived well up to the best traditions of the Round Table, and
conversations and jests and challenges flew to and fro. But
altogether it is rather a sweat, as I have to do the whole thing, and
then it has to be copied out again by some one with a decent
caligraphy. Great care has to be taken to keep it out of the Turks'
hands.
I have also worked on a further constitutional study of the possible
Society of Nations or International Body, following out constitutional
developments and tendencies as revealed by the war since my pre-
war work "The Place of International Law in Jurisprudence."
And so what with the band and Smoke and this diary and bits of
French and my law work, I have plenty to do. I am only wondering
how long it will be before these, too, follow the rest of our
enterprises to oblivion. It is true that one's springs of action seem
almost run out, and that with leading this dreary existence the iron
of Kastamuni has already eaten into the souls of many. The
psychology of a captive is an extraordinary one.
At night-time, when the last tremors of the muezzin have died away
and all is still, we sometimes fancy we can hear the echoes of those
great events that are rearranging the world, the crashing of nations
in mortal combat, the battle cries of men fighting for their faith, the
death cries of the fallen, above all, the cannon cacophany of the fire
deluge.
And from here in the backwater of the world, without news or
knowledge, our hearts go out to our countrymen on the other front,
and we pray to God that we may soon be amongst them again.
CHAPTER XI
EXTRACTS AND PHOTOS FROM
"SMOKE," THE KASTAMUNI
"PUNCH"
Smoke was the Kastamuni Punch, which I edited. Its existence
became known to the Turks, who tried by every means to discover
it. When I escaped from the prison in Stamboul, I had it around my
waist. Unwilling to risk its capture in my subsequent adventures, I
entrusted it to some one in Stamboul, from where it was safely
recovered after the entry of the British troops. The photos are of the
original copy and the extracts perpetrated by me.
Eve.
"Who's heir-apparent?"
"I," said Uncle Sam,
"I guess that I am
The heir-apparent."
Pacific Billow.
April, 1917.
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