31 July 1916
- Day 735 of the war
- As the first month of the Somme offensive draws to a close British and German casualties number 160,000 each
- British forces capture Kilimatinde in German East Africa (present day Tanzania)
- Eight zeppelins raid the east coast of England, dropping about 60 bombs. The raid is thwarted by mist and fog, damage is minimal, no casualties are sustained.
- Russian troops advance on the Stokhod towards Kovel on the Eastern Front
- An Austrian attack on Allied positions at Monte Cimone in the Astico Valley near Trentino is repulsed
- The Leader publishes the poem Smoke Wreaths in Egypt in which Sir Peter McBride describes the pleasures of smoking:
I’ve wandered afar from Old England,
With pleasures of London I’m done;
I’m at drill where the sand around Cairo
Gleams white to the kiss of the sun.
The canteen’s quite close and I’m thirsty,
But I am financially broke,
So I light up the pipe that you gave me,
And my troubles soon vanish in smoke.
The Major has given us ”Smoke oh!”
I rest with my pack by my side;
And in fancy I see in the smoke rings—
“Best wishes from Catherine McBride.”
My mates by my side are forgotten,
All fear of the Major has fled,
For I seem to be roaming in Egypt
Ere the Queen of all Egypt was dead
I go for a stroll by the river,
Cleopatra salutes with a smile;
The Harem all spring to attention,
Then form a platoon by the Nile.
But Anthony sees me and curses.
And fondles his gun rather queer,
So I beat a retreat for the Wazza,
And promptly I call for a beer.
The girls at the Wazza are dancing,
I halt them and make them form fours;
Then I call out a sergeant to drill them,
And sentries I place at the doors.
The landlord posts arms for inspection—
His missus is serving the beer,
We fall in two deep at the counter,
When somebody shouts in my ear.
“We are moving, you fool, get a move on!”‘
I awake and struggle to rise.
The girls on the Wazza have vanished,
I’m wiping the dream from my eyes;
The Major’s ferociously cursing,
And swears by the Prophets that he
Has a hot time in store for a loafer,
And the loafer, alas! it is me.
Now my harness is on and I’m ready,
“Right turn,” and we’re marching away;
I’d mortgage my chances in Heaven
To be in Australia to-day;
And the Major can go to the devil,
I think as behind him we stride,
For the pipe that I have in my pocket
Carries wishes from Catherine McBride.