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Title: The tenth (Irish) division in Gallipoli
Author: Brian Cooper
Release date: July 31, 2024 [eBook #74163]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Herbert Jenkins Ltd, 1918
Credits: Brian Coe, John Campbell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
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THE TENTH (IRISH) DIVISION
[Illustration: MULES IN THE ANZAC SAP]
THE TENTH
(IRISH) DIVISION
IN GALLIPOLI
BY
BRYAN COOPER
MAJOR, GENERAL LIST NEW ARMIES
FORMERLY 5TH SERVICE BATTALION THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
MAJOR-GEN. SIR BRYAN MAHON, D.S.O.
WITH APPRECIATIONS BY
MR. ASQUITH
MR. BALFOUR
SIR EDWARD CARSON
MR. JOHN REDMOND
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
3 YORK STREET ST. JAMES’S
LONDON S.W.1 ∿ ∿ MCMXVIII
“So they gave their bodies to the common weal and received, each
for his own memory, praise that will never die, and with it the
grandest of all sepulchres, not that in which their mortal bones
are laid, but a home in the minds of men, where their glory
remains fresh to stir to speech or action as the occasion comes
by.”—_Thucydides._
“It seems as if this poor Celtic people were bent on making what
one of its own poets has said of its heroes hold good for ever:
‘They went forth to the war but they always fell.’”—_Matthew
Arnold._
PRINTED BY BURLEIGH LTD., AT THE BURLEIGH PRESS, BRISTOL, ENGLAND
TO
THE GLORIOUS MEMORY
OF THE
OFFICERS, NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS
AND MEN
OF THE
TENTH IRISH DIVISION
WHO LAID DOWN THEIR LIVES IN
GALLIPOLI
AND
TO THOSE WHO MOURN FOR THEM
APPRECIATIONS
Major Cooper’s narrative of the exploits of the 10th Division in
the Gallipoli Campaign is a moving and inspiring record, of which
Irishmen everywhere may well be proud.
I trust that it will be widely read in all parts of the Empire.
(Sd.) H. H. ASQUITH
This war has been fruitful in deeds of splendid bravery and heroic
endurance; but neither in bravery nor endurance have the 10th
Division in the Gallipoli Campaign been surpassed by any of their
brothers-in-arms who have been fighting in Europe and Asia for the
cause Of civilisation and freedom.
(Sd.) ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR
Dear Bryan Cooper,
I am very glad that you have undertaken to record the splendid
services of the 10th Division in Gallipoli. Their magnificent bravery
in the face of almost insurmountable difficulties and discomforts
stands out amongst the countless acts of heroism in this war, and I
think it particularly apt that the history of the actions of these
brave Irishmen in the campaign should be recorded by a gallant Irish
officer.
Yours sincerely,
(Sd.) EDWARD CARSON
I have been asked to write a short Foreword to the following pages,
and I do so with the utmost pleasure. By the publication of this
little book, Major Bryan Cooper will be performing a most valuable
service, not only to his own country, Ireland, but to the Empire.
The history of the 10th (Irish) Division is, in many respects,
unique. It was the first Irish Division raised and sent to the Front
by Ireland since the commencement of the War. Not alone that, but
it was the first definitely Irish Division that ever existed in the
British Army.
Irish Divisions and Irish Brigades played a great part in history in
the past, but they were Divisions and Brigades, not in the service of
England, but in the service of France and other European countries
and America.
The creation of the 10th (Irish) Division, therefore, marks a turning
point in the history of the relations between Ireland and the Empire.
In many respects, the 10th (Irish) Division, notwithstanding the
extraordinary and outstanding gallantry that it showed in the field,
may be said to have been unfortunate. No Division in any theatre of
the War suffered more severely or showed greater self-sacrifices and
gallantry. And yet, largely, I fancy, by reason of the fact that its
operations were in a distant theatre, comparatively little has been
heard of its achievements; and, for some reason which a civilian
cannot understand, the number of honours and distinctions conferred
on the Division has been comparatively small. And yet we have the
testimony of everyone, from the Generals in Command down, that the
Division behaved magnificently, in spite of the most terrible and
unlooked-for difficulties and sufferings.
Before they went into action, their artillery was taken from them,
and they landed at Suvla and Anzac without a single gun.
They were a Division of the new Army entirely made up of men who
had no previous military experience, and who had never heard a
shot fired. Yet, the very day they landed, they found themselves
precipitated into the most tremendous and bloody conflict, exposed to
heavy shrapnel and machine-gun fire, on an open strand, where cover
was impossible.
To the most highly trained and seasoned troops in the world, this
would have been a trying ordeal; but, to new troops, it was a cruel
and terrible experience. And yet the testimony all goes to show
that no seasoned or trained troops in the world could have behaved
with more magnificent steadiness, endurance, and gallantry. Without
adequate water supply—indeed, for a long time, without water at
all, owing to mismanagement, which has yet to be traced home to its
source—their sufferings were appalling.
As Major Bryan Cooper points out, it is supposed to be a German
military maxim that no battalion could maintain its morale with
losses of twenty-five per cent. Many of the battalions of the 10th
Division lost seventy-five per cent., and yet their morale remained
unshaken. The depleted Division was hastily filled up with drafts,
and sent, under-officered, to an entirely new campaign at Salonika,
where it won fresh laurels.
Another cruel misfortune which overtook them was, that, instead
of being allowed to fight and operate together as a Unit, they
were immediately split up, one Brigade being attached to the 11th
Division, and entirely separated from their comrades.
There has been some misapprehension created, in certain quarters,
as to the constitution of this 10th Division and its right to call
itself an Irish Division. Major Bryan Cooper sets this question
at rest. What really occurred was, that, quite early in the
business, when recruiting for the 10th Division was going on fairly
well in Ireland, for some unexplained reason, a number of English
recruits were suddenly sent over to join its ranks. They were quite
unnecessary, and protests against their incursion into the Division
fell upon deaf ears. As it happened, however, it was found that a
considerable number of these English recruits were Irishmen living in
Great Britain, or the sons of Irishmen, and, when the Division went
to the Front, Major Bryan Cooper states that fully seventy per cent.
of the men, and ninety per cent. of the officers, were Irishmen.
That is to say, the Division was as much entitled to claim to be an
Irish Division in its constitution as any Division either in England,
Scotland, or Wales is entitled to claim that it is an English,
Scotch, or Welsh Division.
Men of all classes and creeds in Ireland joined its ranks. The list
of casualties which Major Bryan Cooper gives is heart-breaking
reading to any Irishman, especially to one like myself, who had so
many personal friends who fell gallantly in the conflict.
Irishmen of all political opinions were united in the Division. Its
spirit was intensely Irish. Let me quote Major Bryan Cooper’s words:—
“It was the first Irish Division to take the field in War.
Irish Brigades there had often been. They had fought under the
Fleur-de-Lys or the Tricolour of France, and under the Stars
and Stripes, as well as they had done under the Union Jack. But
never before in Ireland’s history had she seen anywhere a whole
Division of her sons in the battle-field. The old battalions of the
Regular Army had done magnificently, but they had been brigaded
with English, Scotch, and Welsh units. The 10th Division was the
first Division almost entirely composed of Irish Battalions who
faced an enemy. Officers and men alike knew this, and were proud of
their destiny. As the battalions marched through the quiet English
countryside, the drums and fifes shrieked out ‘St. Patrick’s Day’
or ‘Brian Boru’s March,’ and the dark streets of Basingstoke
echoed the voices that chanted ‘God Save Ireland,’ as the Units
marched down to entrain. Nor did we lack the green. One Unit sewed
shamrocks into its sleeves. Another wore them as helmet badges.
Almost every Company cherished somewhere an entirely unofficial
green flag, as dear to the men as if they were the regimental
colours themselves. They constituted an outward and visible sign
that the honour of Ireland was in the Division’s keeping, and the
men did not forget it.”
The men who had differed in religion and politics, and their whole
outlook on life, became brothers in the 10th Division. Unionist
and Nationalist, Catholic and Protestant, as Major Bryan Cooper
says—“lived and fought and died side by side, like brothers.” They
combined for a common purpose: to fight the good fight for liberty
and civilisation, and, in a special way, for the future liberty and
honour of their own country.
Major Bryan Cooper expresses the hope that this experience may be a
good augury for the future.
For my part, I am convinced that nothing that can happen can deprive
Ireland of the benefit of the united sacrifices of these men.
I congratulate Major Bryan Cooper on his book. The more widely it is
circulated, the better it will be for Ireland and for the Empire.
J. E. REDMOND
_St. Patrick’s Day, 1917_
INTRODUCTION
I have been asked to contribute a short introduction to this account
of the doings of the 10th (Irish) Division in Gallipoli.
I commanded the Division from the time of its formation until it
left Gallipoli Peninsula for Salonika, and I am extremely glad that
some record has been made of its exploits. I do not think that the
author of this book intends to claim for the Division any special
pre-eminence over other units; but that he puts forward a simple
account of what the first formed Irish Service Battalions suffered
and how creditably they maintained the honour of Ireland.
Memories in war-time are short, and it may be that the well-earned
glories of the 16th and Ulster Division have tended to obliterate
the recollections of Suvla and Sari Bair. (The Division has also the
distinction of being the only troops of the Allies that have fought
in Bulgaria up to date.)
In case these things are forgotten, it is well that this book has
been written, for never in history did Irishmen face death with
greater courage and endurance than they did in Gallipoli and Serbia
in the summer and winter of 1915.
During the period of its formation the Division suffered from many
handicaps. To the difficulties which are certain to befall any
newly created unit were added others due to the enormous strain
that the nation was undergoing; arms and equipment were slow in
arriving; inclement weather made training difficult, and for sake
of accommodation units had had to be widely separated in barracks
all over Ireland. All these difficulties were, however, surmounted,
partly by the genuine keenness of all ranks, but in the main by the
devoted work of the handful of regular officers and N.C.O.’s who
formed the nucleus of the Division.
No words can convey how much was done by these men, naturally
disappointed at not going out with the original Expeditionary Force.
They nevertheless threw themselves whole-heartedly into the work
before them, and laboured unceasingly and untiredly to make the new
units a success, they were ably seconded by retired officers who had
rejoined, and by newly-joined subalterns, who brought with them the
freshness and enthusiasm of youth.
Nor were the men behindhand. Though the monotony of routine training
sometimes grew irksome, yet their eagerness to face the enemy and
their obvious anxiety to do their duty carried them through, and
enabled them to become in nine months well-trained and disciplined
soldiers.
When they reached Gallipoli they had much to endure. The 29th Brigade
were not under my command, so I cannot speak from personal knowledge,
but I believe that every battalion did its duty and won the praise of
its generals.
Of the remainder of the Division I can speak with greater certainty.
They were plunged practically at a moment’s notice into battle,
and were placed in positions of responsibility and difficulty on a
desolate sun-baked and waterless soil, where they suffered tortures
from thirst. In spite of this, and in spite of the fact that they
were newly-formed units mainly composed of young soldiers, they
acquitted themselves admirably. No blame or discredit of any kind
can possibly be attached to the rank and file of the 10th Division.
Whatever the emergency, and however great the danger, they faced it
resolutely and steadfastly, rejoicing when an opportunity arose that
enabled them to meet their enemy with the bayonet.
Ireland has had many brave sons; Ireland has sent forth many splendid
regiments in past times; but the deeds of the men of the 10th (Irish)
Division are worthy to be reckoned with any of those of their
predecessors.
(Sd.) BRYAN MAHON
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
This book (which was written in haste during a period of sick leave)
does not profess to be a military history; it is merely a brief
attempt to describe the fortunes of the rank and file of the Tenth
(Irish) Division. The Division was so much split up that it is
impossible for any one person to have taken part in all its actions;
but I went to Gallipoli with my battalion, and though disabled for a
period by sickness, I returned to the Peninsula before the Division
left it, so that I may fairly claim to have seen both the beginning
and the end of the operations. I have received great assistance from
numerous officers of the Division, who have been kind enough to
summarise for me the doings of their battalions, and I tender them my
grateful thanks.
I must also thank Mr. H. Hanna, K.C., for allowing me to inspect
part of the proofs of his forthcoming book dealing with “D” Company
of the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers. I owe Mr. Hanna a further debt
of gratitude for his kindness in allowing the reproduction of the
sketches of “The Salt Lake,” “Anafarta Plain,” and “‘D’ Company in
the Trenches,” which were executed by Captain Drummond Fish, of the
Royal Irish Rifles, for his book. Captain Fish has also very kindly
allowed me to use three more of his sketches, which, though deprived
of the charm of colour possessed by the originals, give a far better
idea of the scenery of Gallipoli than can be obtained from any
photograph. Having shared the life led by Captain Fish’s battalion in
Gallipoli, I cannot help admiring the manner in which he managed to
include a paint-box and a sketchbook in the very scanty kit allowed
to officers. I must further express to my comrade, Francis Ledwidge,
who himself served in the ranks of the Division, my sincere gratitude
for the beautiful lines in which he has summed up the object of our
enterprise. In them he has fulfilled the poet’s mission of expressing
in words the deepest thoughts of those who feel them too sincerely to
be able to give them worthy utterance.
In dealing with the general aspect of the Gallipoli Expedition, I
have tried to avoid controversial topics. As a general rule, I have
followed the version given by Sir Ian Hamilton in his despatch, which
is still the only official document that exists for our guidance. I
am conscious that the book, of necessity, has omitted many gallant
deeds, and has dealt with some units more fully than with others.
I can only plead in extenuation that I found great difficulty in
getting detailed information as to the doings of some battalions, and
that to this, rather than to prejudice on my part, is due any lack of
proportion that may exist. It is by no means easy for an Irishman to
be impartial, but I have done my best.
BRYAN COOPER
_March 1st, 1917_
P.S.—Since this was written Francis Ledwidge has laid down his life
for the honour of Ireland, and the world has lost a poet of rare
promise.
CONTENTS
PAGE
DEDICATION v
APPRECIATIONS BY MR. ASQUITH, MR. BALFOUR, SIR EDWARD CARSON,
MR. JOHN REDMOND vii
INTRODUCTION BY MAJOR-GEN. SIR BRYAN MAHON, D.S.O. xv
AUTHOR’S PREFACE xix
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxv
POEM BY FRANCIS LEDWIDGE xxvi
CHAPTER
I THE FORMATION OF THE DIVISION 1
II MUDROS AND MITYLENE 32
III THE 29TH BRIGADE AT ANZAC 62
IV SARI BAIR 91
V SUVLA BAY AND CHOCOLATE HILL 121
VI KIRETCH TEPE SIRT 152
VII KABA KUYU AND HILL 60 181
VIII ROUTINE 206
IX LAST DAYS 229
X RETROSPECT 243
APPENDICES
A. ON AUTHORITIES 257
B. NAMES OF OFFICERS KILLED, WOUNDED AND MISSING 259
C. NAMES OF OFFICERS, N.C.O.’S AND MEN MENTIONED IN
DESPATCHES 263
D. NAMES OF OFFICERS, N.C.O.’S AND MEN AWARDED HONOURS 266
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
MULES IN THE ANZAC SAP _Frontispiece_
_Face page_
LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR BRYAN MAHON, K.C.V.O., C.B., D.S.O. 4
BASINGSTOKE. A HALT 24
MUSKETRY AT DOLLYMOUNT 24
SARI BAIR 44
MUDROS. THE AUTHOR’S BIVOUAC 44
SARI BAIR FROM SUVLA 56
BRIGADIER-GENERAL R. J, COOPER, C.V.O., C.B., COMMANDING
29TH BRIGADE 98
SUVLA, SHOWING LALA BABA AND THE SALT LAKE 124
BRIGADIER-GENERAL F. F. HILL, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., COMMANDING
31ST BRIGADE 132
BRIGADIER-GENERAL L. L. NICOL, C.B., COMMANDING 30TH BRIGADE 140
A FAUGH-A-BALLAGH TEASES A TURKISH SNIPER 154
THE 7TH DUBLINS IN THE TRENCHES AT CHOCOLATE HILL 158
THE ANAFARTA PLAIN (KIRETCH TEPE SIRT ON THE SKYLINE) 168
THE ANAFARTA PLAIN FROM THE SOUTH (HILL 60 ON THE LEFT IN THE
MIDDLE DISTANCE) 186
BRIGADIER-GENERAL J. G. KING-KING, D.S.O. 208
5TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS IN THE TRENCHES 214
IMBROS FROM ANZAC 230
MAP (_at the end of the Volume_)
THE IRISH IN GALLIPOLI
Where Aegean cliffs with bristling menace front
The treacherous splendour of that isley sea,
Lighted by Troy’s last shadow; where the first
Hero kept watch and the last Mystery
Shook with dark thunder. Hark! the battle brunt!
A nation speaks, old Silences are burst.
’Tis not for lust of glory, no new throne
This thunder and this lightning of our power
Wakens up frantic echoes, not for these
Our Cross with England’s mingle, to be blown
At Mammon’s threshold. We but war when war
Serves Liberty and Keeps a world at peace.
Who said that such an emprise could be vain?
Were they not one with Christ, who fought and died?
Let Ireland weep: but not for sorrow, weep
That by her sons a land is sanctified,
For Christ arisen, and angels once again
Come back, like exile birds, and watch their sleep.
FRANCIS LEDWIDGE
FRANCE
_24th February, 1917_
THE TENTH (IRISH) DIVISION
THE TENTH (IRISH) DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI
CHAPTER I
THE FORMATION OF THE DIVISION
“The Army, unlike any other profession, cannot be taught through
shilling books. First a man must suffer, then he must learn his
work and the self-respect which knowledge brings.”—_Kipling._
Within ten days of the outbreak of the War, before even the
Expeditionary Force had left England, Lord Kitchener appealed for
a hundred thousand recruits, and announced that six new divisions
would be formed from them. These six divisions, which were afterwards
known as the First New Army, or more colloquially as K.1, were,
with one exception, distributed on a territorial basis. The Ninth
was Scotch, the Eleventh North Country, the Twelfth was recruited
in London and the Home Counties, and the Thirteenth in the West of
England. The exception was the Fourteenth, which consisted of new
battalions of English light infantry and rifle regiments. The Tenth
Division in which I served, and whose history I am about to relate,
was composed of newly-formed or “Service” battalions of all the Irish
line regiments, together with the necessary complement of artillery,
engineers, Army Service Corps, and R.A.M.C. They were distributed as
follows:—
29TH BRIGADE.
5th Service Battalion, Royal Irish Regiment.
6th ditto Royal Irish Rifles.
5th ditto The Connaught Rangers.
6th ditto The Leinster Regiment.
The 5th Royal Irish Regiment afterwards became the Divisional Pioneer
Battalion, and its place in the 29th Brigade was taken by the 10th
Hampshire Regiment.
30TH BRIGADE.
6th Service Battalion, Royal Dublin Fusiliers.
7th ditto ditto
6th Service Battalion, Royal Munster Fusiliers.
7th ditto ditto
31ST BRIGADE.
5th Service Battalion, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
6th ditto ditto
5th Service Battalion, Royal Irish Fusiliers.
6th ditto ditto
It will be seen that the 29th Brigade consisted of regiments from all
the four provinces of Ireland, while the 30th Brigade had its depôts
in the South of Ireland, and the 31st in Ulster.
The Divisional Troops were organised as follows:—
ARTILLERY.
54th Brigade R.F.A.
55th ” R.F.A.
56th ” R.F.A.
57th (Howitzer) Brigade R.F.A.
Heavy Battery R.G.A.
ENGINEERS.
65th Field Company R.E.
66th ditto R.E.
85th ditto R.E.
10th Divisional Signal Company.
10th Divisional Train.
10th Divisional Cyclist Company.
30th Field Ambulance, R.A.M.C.
31st ditto
32nd ditto
A squadron of South Irish Horse was allocated as Divisional Cavalry,
but this only joined the Division at Basingstoke in May, and was
detached again before we embarked for Gallipoli.
Fortunately, one of the most distinguished of Irish Generals was
available to take command of the Division. Lieut.-General Sir Bryan
Mahon was a Galway man who had entered the 8th (Royal Irish) Hussars
from a Militia Battalion of the Connaught Rangers in 1883. For ten
years he served with his regiment, acting as Adjutant from 1889 to
1893, but recognising that British Cavalry were unlikely to see
much active service, he transferred to the Egyptian Army in the
latter year. He served with the Cavalry of this force in the Dongola
Expedition in 1896, and was awarded the D.S.O. For his services in
the campaign, which ended in the capture of Khartoum, he received
the brevet rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. He next commanded the mounted
troops which achieved the defeat and death of the Khalifa, and for
this he was promoted to Brevet-Colonel. He was then transferred
to South Africa, where he commanded a mounted brigade and had the
distinction of leading the column which effected the relief of
Mafeking, being created a Companion of the Bath for his services on
this occasion. After the South African War he returned to the Soudan
as Military Governor of Kordofan. His next commands were in India,
and he had only vacated the command of the Lucknow Division early in
1914. While holding it in 1912 he had been created a K.C.V.O.
[Illustration: LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR BRYAN MAHON, K.C.V.O., C.B., D.S.O.]
At the time he took over the 10th Division he was fifty-two years of
age. His service in Egypt and India had bronzed his face and sown
grey in his hair, but his figure and his seat on a horse were
those of a subaltern. He scorned display, and only the ribbons on his
breast told of the service he had seen. A soft cap adorned with an
8th Hussar badge, with a plain peak and the red band almost concealed
by a khaki cover, tried to disguise his rank, but the manner in which
it was pulled over his eyes combined with the magnificent chestnut
he rode and the eternal cigarette in his mouth, soon made him easily
recognisable throughout the Division.
Experienced soldier as he was, he had qualities that made him even
better suited to his post than military knowledge, and in his years
in the East he had not forgotten the nature of his countrymen. The
Irish soldier is not difficult to lead: he will follow any man who is
just and fearless, but to get the best out of him, needs sympathy,
and this indefinable quality the General possessed. It was impossible
for him to pass a football match on the Curragh without saying a
pleasant word to the men who were watching it, and they repaid this
by adoring their leader. Everything about him appealed to them—his
great reputation, the horse he rode, his Irish name, and his Irish
nature, all went to their hearts. Above all, he was that unique
being, an Irishman with no politics, and this, in a Division that was
under the patronage of no political party, but consisted of those who
wanted to fight, was an enormous asset.
Fortunately, the Infantry Brigadiers had also some knowledge of Irish
troops. Brigadier-General R. J. Cooper, C.V.O., who led the 29th
Brigade, had commanded the Irish Guards. Another Irish Guardsman,
Brigadier-General C. Fitzclarence, V.C., commanded the 30th Brigade
at the time of its first formation, but he was soon afterwards called
to France to command the 1st Brigade in the Expeditionary Force, and
met his death at the first battle of Ypres. His place was taken by
Brigadier-General L. L. Nicol, who had done the bulk of his service
in the Rifle Brigade, but had begun his soldiering in the Connaught
Rangers. The 31st Brigade was commanded by Brigadier-General
F. F. Hill, C.B., D.S.O., who had served throughout a long and
distinguished career in the Royal Irish Fusiliers. The Divisional
Artillery was at first under the command of Brigadier-General A. J.
Abdy, but when this officer was found medically unfit for active
service, he was replaced by Brigadier-General G. S. Duffus.
I must now describe the actual formation of the Division, and in view
of the fact that it was the beginning of one of the most gigantic
military improvisations on record, it may be desirable to do so in
some detail.
Fortunately there were some regular cadres available. In the first
place, there was the Regimental Depôt, where usually three regular
officers were employed, the senior being a major. In almost every
case he was promoted to temporary Lieutenant-Colonel, and given
the command of the senior Service Battalion of his regiment. The
other two officers (usually a captain and a subaltern) were also
transferred to the new unit. Then, again, the Regular Battalion
serving at home before embarking for France was ordered to detach
three officers, and from ten to sixteen N.C.O.’s. In many cases
these officers did not belong to the Regular Battalion, but were
officers of the Regiment who had been detached for service with some
Colonial unit, such as the West African Frontier Force, or the King’s
African Rifles. Being on leave in England when war broke out, they
had rejoined the Home Battalion of their unit, and had been again
detached for service with the New Armies. Where more than one Service
Battalion of a regiment was being formed, the bulk of these officers
and N.C.O.’s went to the senior one.
There was yet another source from which Regular Officers were
obtained, and those who came from it proved among the best serving in
the Division.
At the outbreak of the War all Indian Army officers who were on
leave in England were ordered by the War Office to remain there and
were shortly afterwards posted to units of the First New Army. Two
of the Brigade-Majors of the Division were Indian Army officers,
who, when war was declared, were students at the Staff College, and
nearly every battalion obtained one Indian officer, if not more.
It is impossible to exaggerate the debt the Division owed to these
officers. Professional soldiers in the best sense of the word, they
identified themselves from the first with their new battalions,
living for them, and, in many cases, dying with them. Words cannot
express the influence they wielded and the example they gave, but
those who remember the lives and deaths of Major R. S. M. Harrison,
of the 7th Dublins, and Major N. C. K. Money, of the 5th Connaught
Rangers, will realise by the immensity of the loss we sustained when
they were killed, how priceless their work had been.
A certain number of the Reserve of Officers were also available for
service with the new units. It seemed hard for men of forty-five or
fifty years of age who had left the Army soon after the South African
War, to be compelled to rejoin as captains and serve under the orders
of men who had previously been much junior to them, but they took it
cheerfully, and went through the drudgery of the work on the barrack
square without complaining. Often their health was unequal to the
strain imposed upon it by the inclement winter, but where they were
able to stick it out, their ripe experience was most helpful to their
juniors. The battalions which did not secure a Regular Commanding
Officer got a Lieut.-Colonel from the Reserve of Officers, often one
who had recently given up command of one of the regular battalions
of the regiment. Besides officers from the Reserve of Officers,
there were also a considerable number of men who had done five or
six years’ service in the Regular Army or the Militia and had then
retired without joining the Reserve. These were for the most part
granted temporary commissions of the rank which they had previously
held. A few were also found who had soldiered in Colonial Corps, and
eight or ten captains were drawn from the District Inspectors of
the Royal Irish Constabulary. These united to a knowledge of drill
and musketry a valuable insight into the Irish character, and as by
joining they forfeited nearly £100 a year apiece, they abundantly
proved their patriotism.
It will thus be seen that each battalion had a Regular or
retired Regular Commanding Officer, a Regular Adjutant, and
the four company commanders had as a rule had some military
experience. The Quartermaster, Regimental Sergeant-Major, and
Quartermaster-Sergeant were usually pensioners who had rejoined,
while Company Sergeant-Majors and Quartermaster-Sergeants were
obtained by promoting N.C.O.’s who had been transferred from the
Regular battalion. The rest of the cadres had to be filled up, and
fortunately there was no lack of material.
For about a month after their formation the Service Battalions
were short of subalterns, not because suitable men were slow in
coming forward, but because the War Office was so overwhelmed with
applications for commissions that it found it impossible to deal
with them. About the middle of September, however, a rule was
introduced empowering the C.O. of a battalion to recommend candidates
for temporary second-lieutenancies, subject to the approval of the
Brigadier, and after this the vacancies were quickly filled. Some of
the subalterns had had experience in the O.T.C., and as a rule these
soon obtained promotion, but the majority when they joined were quite
ignorant of military matters, and had to pick up their knowledge
while they were teaching the men.
About the end of the year, classes for young officers were instituted
at Trinity College, and a certain number received instruction there,
but the bulk of them had no training other than that which they
received in their battalions. They were amazingly keen and anxious to
learn, and the progress they made both in military knowledge and in
the far more difficult art of handling men was amazing. Drawn from
almost every trade and profession, barristers, solicitors, civil
engineers, merchants, medical students, undergraduates, schoolboys,
they soon settled down together and the spirit of _esprit de corps_
was quickly created. Among themselves, no doubt, they criticised
their superiors, but none of them would have admitted to an outsider
that their battalion was in any respect short of perfection. I shall
never forget the horror with which one of my subalterns, who had been
talking to some officers of another Division at Mudros, returned
to me saying, “Why, they actually said that their Colonel was a
rotter!” Disloyalty of that kind never existed in the 10th Division.
The subalterns were a splendid set, and after nine months’ training
compared well with those of any regular battalion. They believed
in themselves, they believed in their men, they believed in the
Division, and, above all, in their own battalion.
I must now turn to the men whom they led. Fortunately, the
inexperience of the new recruits was, to a large extent, counteracted
by the rejoining of old soldiers. It was estimated that within a
month of the declaration of war, every old soldier in Ireland who
was under sixty years of age (and a good many who were over it) had
enlisted again. Some of these were not of much use, as while living
on pension they had acquired habits of intemperance, and many more,
whose military experience dated from before the South African War,
found the increased strain of Army life more than they could endure.
However, a valuable residue remained, and not only were they useful
as instructors, and in initiating the new recruits into military
routine, but the fact that they had usually served in one of the
Regular battalions of their regiment helped to secure a continuity of
tradition and sentiment, which was of incalculable value. In barracks
these old soldiers sometimes gave trouble, but in the field they
proved their value over and over again.
Of the Irish recruits, but little need be said. Mostly drawn from
the class of labourers, they took their tone from the old soldiers
(to whom they were often related), and though comparatively slow in
learning, they eventually became thoroughly efficient and reliable
soldiers.
There was, however, among the men of most of the battalions, another
element which calls for more detailed consideration. Except among
old soldiers and in Belfast, recruiting in Ireland in August, 1914,
was not as satisfactory as it was in England, and in consequence,
Lord Kitchener decided early in September to transfer a number of the
recruits for whom no room could be found in English regiments to fill
up the ranks of the 10th Division. The fact that this was done gave
rise, at a later date, to some controversy, and it was even stated
that the 10th Division was Irish only in name. This was a distinct
exaggeration, for when these “Englishmen” joined their battalions,
it was found that a large proportion of them were Roman Catholics,
rejoicing in such names as Dillon, Doyle, and Kelly, the sons or
grandsons of Irishmen who had settled in England. It is not easy to
make an accurate estimate, but I should be disposed to say that in
the Infantry of the Division 90 per cent. of the officers and 70 per
cent. of the men were either Irish or of Irish extraction. Of course,
the 10th Hampshire Regiment is not included in these calculations.
It may be remarked that there has never, in past history, been such
a thing as a purely and exclusively Irish (or Scotch) battalion.
This point is emphasised by Professor Oman, the historian of the
Peninsular War, who states: “In the Peninsular Army the system of
territorial names prevailed for nearly all the regiments, but in most
cases the territorial designation had no very close relation with
the actual _provenance_ of the men. There were a certain number of
regiments that were practically national, i.e., most of the Highland
battalions, and nearly all of the Irish ones were very predominantly
Highland and Irish as to their rank and file: but even in the 79th
or the 88th there was a certain sprinkling of English recruits.”
(“Wellington’s Army,” p. 208.)
Before leaving this subject it should be noted that the Englishmen
who were drafted to the Division in this manner became imbued with
the utmost loyalty to their battalions, and wore the shamrock on St.
Patrick’s Day with much greater enthusiasm than the born Irishmen.
They would have been the first to resent the statement that the
regiments they were so proud to belong to had no right to claim their
share in the glory which they achieved.
At first, however, they created a somewhat difficult problem for
their officers. They had enlisted purely from patriotic motives,
and were inclined to dislike the delay in getting to grips with the
Germans; and being, for the most part, strong Trades Unionists, with
acute suspicion of any non-elected authority, they were disposed
to resent the restraints of discipline, and found it hard to place
complete confidence in their officers. They also felt the alteration
in their incomes very keenly. Many of them, before enlistment, had
been miners earning from two to three pounds a week, and the drop
from this to seven shillings, or in the case of married men 3s.
6d., came very hard. The deduction for their wives was particularly
unwelcome, not because they grudged the money, but because when they
enlisted they had not been told that this stoppage was compulsory,
and so they considered that they had been taken advantage of.
However, they had plenty of sense, and soon began to realise the
necessity of discipline, and understood that their officers, instead
of being mercenary tyrants, spent hours in the Company Office at
the end of a long day’s work trying to rectify such grievances as
non-payment of separation allowance. Regimental games helped them to
feel at home. Some of them soon became lance-corporals, and before
Christmas they had all settled down into smart, intelligent and
willing soldiers. One English habit, however, never deserted them:
they were unable to break themselves of grumbling about their food.
The Division contained one other element to which allusion must
be made. In the middle of August, Mr. F. H. Browning, President
of the Irish Rugby Football Union, issued an appeal to the young
professional men of Dublin, which resulted in the formation of “D”
Company of the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers. This was what is known as
a “Pals” Company, consisting of young men of the upper and middle
classes, including among them barristers, solicitors, and engineers.
Many of them obtained commissions, but the tone of the company
remained, and I know of at least one barrister who had served with
the Imperial Yeomanry in South Africa, who for over eighteen months
refused to take a commission because it would involve leaving his
friends. The preservation of rigid military discipline among men who
were the equals of their officers in social position was not easy,
but the breeding and education of the “Pals” justified the high
hopes that had been formed of them when their Regiment was bitterly
tested at Suvla.
The Royal Artillery, Royal Engineers, Army Service Corps, and the
Royal Army Medical Corps recruits who came to the Division were, for
the most part, English or Scotch, since no distinctively Irish units
of those branches of the service exist. Generally speaking, they were
men of a similar class to the English recruits who were drafted into
the infantry.
A detailed description of the training of the Division would be
monotonous and uninteresting even to those who took part in it, but
a brief summary may be given. The points of concentration first
selected were Dublin and the Curragh, the 30th Brigade being at the
latter place. At the beginning of September, the 29th Brigade were
transferred to Fermoy and Kilworth, but the barracks in the South of
Ireland being required for the 16th (Irish) Division, two battalions
returned to Dublin, the 6th Leinsters went to Birr, and the 5th Royal
Irish to Longford. The latter Battalion soon became Pioneers and were
replaced by the 10th Hampshires, who were stationed at Mullingar.
The 54th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery, were at Dundalk, and the
remainder of the Artillery at Newbridge and Kildare. The Engineers,
Cyclists, and Army Service Corps trained at the Curragh, the Signal
Company at Carlow, and the Royal Army Medical Corps at Limerick.
Naturally, the War Office were not prepared for the improvisation of
units on such a large scale, and at first there was a considerable
deficiency in arms, uniform, and equipment. Irish depôts, however,
were not quite so overwhelmed as the English ones, and most recruits
arrived from them in khaki, although minor articles of kit, such as
combs and tooth-brushes were often missing. The English recruits on
the other hand, joined their battalions in civilian clothes, and
were not properly fitted out till the middle of October. The Royal
Army Medical Corps at Limerick also had to wait some time for their
uniform.
The Infantry soon obtained rifles (of different marks, it is true)
and bayonets, but the gunners were greatly handicapped by the fact
that the bulk of their preliminary training had to be done with very
few horses and hardly any guns. Deficiencies were supplied by models,
dummies, and good will; and considering the drawbacks, wonderful
progress was made. Another article of which there was a shortage
was great-coats, and in the inclement days of November and December
their absence would have been severely felt. Fortunately, the War
Office cast aside convention and bought and issued large quantities
of ready-made civilian overcoats of the type generally described as
“Gents’ Fancy Cheviots.” Remarkable though they were in appearance,
these garments were much better than nothing at all, and in January
the warmer and more durable regulation garments were issued. The
men also suffered a good deal of hardship at first from having only
one suit of khaki apiece, for when wet through they were unable
to change, but they recognised that this discomfort could not be
instantly remedied, and accepted it cheerfully.
Until the end of 1914, the bulk of the work done by the Infantry
consisted of elementary drill, platoon and company training and
lectures, with a route march once or twice a week. A recruits’
musketry course was also fired. Plenty of night operations were
carried out, two evenings a week as a rule being devoted to this form
of work. The six battalions in Dublin were somewhat handicapped by
lack of training ground, as the Phœnix Park became very congested.
This deficiency was later remedied to a certain extent by certain
landowners who allowed troops to manœuvre in their demesnes; but
considerations of distance and lack of transport made this concession
less valuable than it would have been had it been possible to
disregard the men’s dinner hour.
Side by side with this strenuous work the education of the officers
and N.C.O.’s was carried on. The juniors had everything to learn,
and little by little the news that filtered through from France
convinced the seniors that many long-cherished theories would have
to be reconsidered. It gradually became clear that the experience of
South Africa and Manchuria had not fully enlightened us as to the
power of modern heavy artillery and high explosives, and that many
established tactical methods would have to be varied. We learnt to
dig trenches behind the crest of a hill instead of on the top of it;
to seek for cover from observation rather than a good field of fire;
to dread damp trenches more than hostile bullets. We began, too, to
hear rumours of a return to mediæval methods of warfare and became
curious as to steel helmets and hand grenades.
Had these been the only rumours that we heard, we should have counted
ourselves fortunate. Unhappily, however, in modern war there is
nothing so persistent as the absolutely unfounded rumour, and in K.1
they raged like a pestilence. We were all eager to get the training
finished and settle to real work, and our hopes gave rise to the most
fantastic collection of legends. The most prevalent one, of course,
was that we were going to France in ten days’ time, usually assisted
by the corroborative detail that our billets had already been
prepared, but this was run close by the equally confident assertion
on the authority of a clerk in the Brigade Office, “that we were
destined for Egypt in a week.” It is to be hoped that after the War,
some folk-lore expert will investigate legends of the New Armies. If
he does so, he will be interested to find that France and Egypt were
almost the only two seats of War which the Division as a whole never
visited.
In the New Year, battalion training began, carried out on the
occasional bright days that redeemed an abominable winter. At the
beginning of February it was proposed to start brigade training,
and in order to enable the 29th Brigade to concentrate for this
purpose, various changes of station were necessary. Accordingly, the
whole 29th Brigade moved to the Curragh, where one battalion was
accommodated in barracks and the other three in huts. In order to
allow this move to be carried out the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, the
Reserve Park Army Service Corps and the Divisional Cyclist Company
were transferred to Dublin where they were quartered in the Royal
Barracks.
Brigade field-days, brigade route marches and brigade night
operations were the order of the day throughout February, and
a second course of musketry was also fired. Early in March the
Divisional Commander decided to employ the troops at the Curragh in a
series of combined operations. For this purpose he could dispose of
two infantry brigades (less one battalion), three brigades of Royal
Field Artillery, the heavy battery (which joined the Division from
Woolwich about this time), three field companies of Royal Engineers,
while on special occasions the divisional Signal Company were brought
over from Carlow and the Cyclists from Dublin. He could also obtain
the assistance of the two reserve regiments of cavalry which were
stationed at the Curragh.
Though we criticised them bitterly at the time, these Curragh
field-days were among the pleasantest of the Division’s experiences.
By this time the battalions had obtained a corporate existence and it
was exhilarating to march out in the morning, one of eight hundred
men, and feel that one’s own work had a definite part in the creation
of a disciplined whole. The different units had obtained (at their
own expense) drums and fifes, and some of them had pipes as well. As
we followed the music down the wet winding roads round Kilcullen or
the Chair of Kildare, we gained a recollection of the hedges on each
side bursting into leaf, and the grey clouds hanging overhead, that
was to linger with us during many hot and anxious days.
As a rule, these combined operations took place twice in the week.
For the rest of the time ordinary work was continued, while on the
16th of April, Sir B. Mahon held a ceremonial inspection of the
units of the Division which were stationed at the Curragh, Newbridge
and Kildare. The infantry marched past in “Battalion Mass,” and the
artillery in “Line Close interval.” At this time, too, Company
Commanders began to mourn the loss of many of their best men who
became specialists. As mules, Vickers guns, signalling equipment,
etc., were received, more and more men were withdrawn from the
Companies to serve with the regimental transport, the machine-gun
section, or the signallers. The drain due to this cause was so great
that the Company Commander seldom saw all the men who were nominally
under his command except on pay-day. While this process was going on
the weaklings were being weeded out. A stringent medical examination
removed all those who were considered too old or too infirm to stand
the strain of active service, and they were sent to the reserve
battalions of their unit. Men of bad character, who were leading
young soldiers astray, or who, by reason of their dishonesty, were a
nuisance in the barrack-room, were discharged as unlikely to become
efficient soldiers. But on the whole there was not much crime in the
Division. A certain amount of drunkenness was inevitable, but the
principal military offence committed was that of absence without
leave. This was not unnatural under the circumstances. Men who had
not fully realised the restraints of discipline, and had been unable
to cut themselves completely adrift from their civilian life were
naturally anxious to return home from time to time. If they could not
obtain leave, they went without it; when they got it, they often
overstayed it, but their conduct was not without excuse. One man who
had overstayed his pass by a week, said in extenuation, “When I got
home, my wife said she could get no one to plant the land for her,
and I just had to stay until I had the garden planted with potatoes.”
And there is no doubt that in most cases of absence the relations of
the absentee were responsible for it. It was not easy for men who
had been civilians four months before to realise the seriousness of
their offence while they saw the Division, as they thought, marking
time, and knew that their homes were within reach, and officers were
relieved when at the end of April units received orders to hold
themselves in readiness to move to a point of concentration near
Aldershot.
This point of concentration proved to be Basingstoke, and by the end
of the first week in May the whole Division was assembled there. As
we journeyed we read how the 29th Division had charged through the
waves and the wire, and effected its landing at Cape Helles, and how
against overwhelming odds the Australians and New Zealanders had won
a foothold at Gaba Tepe. At that time, however, our thoughts were
fixed on France.
At Basingstoke we were inspected and watched at work by the staff
of the Aldershot Training Centre, and were found wanting in some
respects. In particular, we were unduly ignorant of the art and
mystery of bombing, and many hot afternoons were spent in a labyrinth
of trenches which had been dug in Lord Curzon’s park at Hackwood,
propelling a jam tin weighted with stones across a couple of
intervening traverses. Bayonet-fighting, too, was much practised,
and the machine-gun detachments and snipers each went to Bordon
for a special course. In addition, each Brigade in turn marched to
Aldershot, and spent a couple of days on the Ash Ranges doing a
refresher course of musketry.
[Illustration: BASINGSTOKE. A HALT]
[Illustration: MUSKETRY AT DOLLYMOUNT]
The most salient feature, however, of the Basingstoke period of
training was the Divisional marches. Every week the whole Division,
transport, ambulances and all, would leave camp. The first day would
be occupied by a march, and at night the troops either billeted or
bivouacked. On the next day there were operations: sometimes another
New Army division acted as enemy, sometimes the foe was represented
by the Cyclists, and the Pioneer Battalion. As night fell, the men
bivouacked on the ground they were supposed to have won, occasionally
being disturbed by a night attack. On the third day we marched home
to a tent, which seemed spacious and luxurious after two nights in
the open. These operations were of great value to the staff, and
also to the transport, who learned from them how difficulties which
appeared insignificant on paper became of paramount importance in
practice. The individual officer or man, on the other hand, gained
but little military experience, since as a rule the whole time was
occupied by long hot dusty marches between the choking overhanging
hedges of a stony Hampshire lane. What was valuable, however, was
the lesson learnt when the march was over. A man’s comfort usually
depended on his own ingenuity, and unless he was able to make a
weatherproof shelter from his ground sheet and blanket he was by no
means unlikely to spend a wet night. The cooks, too, discovered that
a fire in the open required humouring, and all ranks began to realise
that unless a man was self-sufficient, he was of little use in modern
war. In barracks, the soldier leads a hard enough life, but he is
eternally being looked after, and if he loses anything he is obliged
to replace it at once from the grocery bar or the quartermaster’s
store. On service, if he loses things he has to do without them, and
in Gallipoli where nothing could be obtained nearer than Mudros and
everything but sheer necessities had to be fetched from Alexandria or
Malta, the ingrained carelessness of the soldier meant a considerable
amount of unnecessary hardships. It would be too much to say that
these marches and bivouacs eradicated this carelessness, but they
did, at any rate, impress on the more thoughtful some of the
difficulties to be encountered in the future.
The monotony of training was broken on the 28th of May when His
Majesty the King visited and inspected the Division. The 31st Brigade
was at Aldershot doing musketry, but the 29th and 30th Brigades and
the Divisional Troops paraded in full strength in Hackwood Park. His
Majesty, who was accompanied by the Queen, rode along the front of
each corps and then took up his position at the Saluting Point. The
troops marched past: first the Infantry in a formation (Column of
Platoons) which enabled each man to see his Sovereign distinctly,
followed by the Field Ambulances, the squadron of South Irish Horse,
and the Artillery, Engineers and Army Service Corps. On the following
day, His Majesty inspected the 31st Brigade as they were marching
back from Aldershot to Basingstoke.
This inspection was followed by another one, as Field-Marshal Lord
Kitchener, who had been unable to accompany His Majesty, paid the
Division a visit on June 1st.
It would be superfluous to describe both these inspections, since the
same ceremonial was adopted at each, and since the 31st Brigade was
absent on the 28th May, an account of the parade for Lord Kitchener
may stand for both occasions. The inspection took place in an open
space in Hackwood Park, the infantry being drawn up, one brigade
facing the other two on the crest of a ridge, while the mounted
troops in an adjoining field were assembled on a slope running down
to a small stream. The scene was typically English; here and there
a line of white chalk showed where a trench had broken the smooth
green turf, and all around, copses and clumps of ancient trees, in
the full beauty of their fresh foliage, spoke of a land untouched for
centuries by the stern hand of war. Soon very different sights were
to meet the eyes of the men of the 10th Division, and at Mudros, and
on the sun-baked Peninsula, many thought longingly of soft Hampshire
grass and the shade of mighty beeches.
Though the sun shone at intervals, yet there was a chill bite in the
wind, and the troops who had begun to take up their positions at
10 o’clock were relieved when at noon the Field-Marshal’s cortège
trotted on to the review ground, and began to ride along the lines.
The broad-shouldered, thick-set figure was familiar, but the face
lacked the stern frown so often seen in pictures, and wore a cheerful
smile. Yet he had good reason to smile. Around him were men—Hunter,
Mahon, and others—who had shared his victories in the past, and
before him stood the ranks of those who were destined to lend to his
name imperishable glory. He, more than any other man, had drawn from
their homes the officers and men who faced him in Hackwood Park, and
trained and equipped them, until at last, after ten months’ hard and
strenuous work, they were ready to take the field. He looked on the
stalwart lines, and all could see that he was pleased. After he had
passed along the ranks, he returned to the saluting point, and the
march-past began. The Division had no brass bands, but each unit, in
close column of platoons, was played past by the massed drums and
fifes of its own Brigade. First came the Royal Irish, swinging to
the lilt of “Garry Owen,” in a manner that showed that their C. O.
and Sergeant-Major were old Guardsmen. Then followed the Hampshires,
stepping out to the tune that has played the 37th past the saluting
point since the days of Dettingen and Minden. Then again the bands
took up the Irish strain, and the best of drum-and-fife marches, “St.
Patrick’s Day,” crashed out for the Connaught Rangers. Then came a
sadder note for the Leinsters’ march is “Come Back to Erin,” and one
knew that many of those marching to it would never see Ireland again.
But sorrowful thoughts were banished as the quickstep of the Rifles
succeeded to the yearning tune. After the Rifles had passed, the
music became monotonous, since all Fusilier Regiments have the same
march-past, and by the time the rear of the 31st Brigade had arrived,
one’s ears were somewhat weary of the refrain of the “British
Grenadiers.” At a rehearsal of the Inspection, the Dublin Fusiliers
had endeavoured to vary the monotony by playing “St. Patrick’s
Day,” but the fury of the Connaught Rangers, who share the right
of playing this tune with the Irish Guards alone, was so intense
that it was abandoned, and Munsters and Dublins, Inniskillings and
Faugh-a-Ballaghs, moved past to the strains of their own march.
“The British Grenadiers” is a good tune, and Fusilier regiments are
not often brigaded together, so that this lack of variety is seldom
noted, yet there are so many good Irish quick-steps unused that
perhaps the Fusilier regiments from Ireland might be permitted to use
one of them as an alternative.
After the Infantry came the Field Ambulances, and after them the
squadron of the South Irish Horse. These were followed by rank after
rank of guns with the Engineers and Army Service Corps bringing
up the rear. The long lines of gleaming bayonets, and the horses,
guns, and wagons, passing in quick succession, formed a magnificent
spectacle. Not by dragon’s teeth had this armed force been raised in
so short a time, but by unresting and untiring work.
As a result of these inspections the following orders were issued:—
“_10th Division Order No. 34._ _1st June, 1915._
“Lieutenant-General Sir B. Mahon received His Majesty’s command to
publish a divisional order to say how pleased His Majesty was to
have had an opportunity of seeing the 10th Irish Division, and how
impressed he was with the appearance and physical fitness of the
troops.
“His Majesty the King recognises that it is due to the keenness and
co-operation of all ranks that the 10th Division has reached such a
high standard of efficiency.”
“The General Officer Commanding 10th Irish Division has much
pleasure in informing the troops that Field-Marshal Earl Kitchener
of Khartoum, the Secretary of State for War, expressed himself
as highly satisfied with all he saw of the 10th Division at the
inspection to-day.”
After these two inspections the men began to hope that they would
soon be on the move, but the regular routine continued, and all
ranks began to get a little stale. The period of training had been
filled with hard and strenuous work, and as the days of laborious and
monotonous toil crept on, one felt that little was being gained by
it. It is not an exaggeration to say that so far as physical fitness
was concerned, the whole of the Division which went as an organised
whole to Gallipoli was in better condition at the end of April than
when they left England. Infantry, engineers, and the Royal Army
Medical Corps were all fully trained and qualified for the work they
were called on to do. The transport were not, but then the transport
were left behind in England. It is possible, too, that the artillery
gained by the delay, but they did not accompany the Division, and the
two brigades that eventually landed in the Peninsula were completely
detached from it. The staff certainly gained much experience from
their stay at Basingstoke, but on reaching Gallipoli the Division
was split up in such a manner that the experience they had acquired
became of little value.
Just as we were beginning to despair of ever moving, on the 27th of
June the long-expected order arrived, and the Division was warned to
hold itself in readiness for service at the Dardanelles.
CHAPTER II
MUDROS AND MITYLENE
“When in Lemnos we ate our fill of flesh of tall-horned
oxen.”—_Homer._
It will now be proper to describe the doings of the Division in
somewhat fuller detail.
The immediate result of the warning received on June 27th, which was
officially confirmed on July 1st, was to throw an enormous amount of
work upon officers and N.C.O.’s. Already the gaps in our strength
had been filled up by drafts drawn from the 16th (Irish) Division,
and now it was necessary for the whole of the men to be re-equipped.
Helmets and khaki drill clothing had to be fitted, much of the latter
requiring alteration, while the adjusting of _pagris_ to helmets
occupied much attention, and caused the advice and assistance of men
who had served in India to be greatly in demand. At the same time
new English-made belts and accoutrements were issued, the American
leather equipment, which had been given out in March and had worn
very badly, being withdrawn. We had gained one advantage from the
numerous false alarms that rumour had sprung upon us, the men’s
field pay-books and field conduct-sheets were completely filled in
and ready. This turned out to be extremely fortunate, as the company
officers, sergeant-majors, and platoon sergeants found that the time
at their disposal was so fully occupied that they would have had
little leisure left for office work. The pay lists were closed and
balanced, and sent with the cash-books to the Regimental Paymaster;
any other documents which had not already been sent to the officer in
charge of records were consigned to him, and at last we felt we were
ready.
One symptom of the conditions under which we were going to fight was
to be found in the fact that we lost some of our comrades. The Heavy
Battery and the squadron of the South Irish Horse were transferred
to other divisions destined for France, while the transport, both
Divisional and Regimental, was ordered to stand fast at Basingstoke.
Worse than this, all regimental officers’ chargers were to be handed
over to the Remount Department. This indication that we were intended
for a walking campaign caused considerable dismay to some machine-gun
officers, who had invested in imposing and tight-fitting field boots,
and were not certain whether they would be pleasant to march in.
As for the men of the machine-gun detachments, their feelings were
beyond expression. The knowledge that gun, tripod, and belts would
have to be carried everywhere by them in a tropical climate deprived
them of words. However, they were too delighted to be on the move at
last to grumble for long.
In the week beginning July 5th the departure began. The trains left
at night, and battalions would awake in the morning to find tents
previously occupied by their neighbours empty. The weather had
changed to cold showers, and the men marching through the night to
the station had reason to be thankful that their drill clothing was
packed away in their kit-bags, and that they were wearing ordinary
khaki serge. The helmets, however, were found to keep off rain well.
Units were so subdivided for entraining purposes that there was
little ceremony and less music at the departure. The men paraded in
the dark, marched through the empty echoing streets of the silent
town, sometimes singing, but more often thoughtful. The memory of
recent farewells, the complete uncertainty of the future, the risks
that lay before us, alike induced a mood that if not gloomy was
certainly not hilarious. The cheerful songs of the early training
period were silent, and when a few voices broke the silence, the tune
that they chose was “God Save Ireland.” We were resolved that Ireland
should not be ashamed of us, but we were beginning to realise that
our task would be a stiff one.
The composition of the Division was as follows:—
DIVISIONAL STAFF.
G.O.C.: Lieut.-General Sir B. T. Mahon, K.C.V.O., C.B., D.S.O.
Aide-de-Camp: Capt. the Marquis of Headfort (late 1st Life Guards).
General Staff Officer, 1st Grade: Lieut.-Col. J. G. King-King,
D.S.O., Reserve of Officers (late the Queen’s).
General Staff Officer, 2nd Grade: Major G. E. Leman, North
Staffordshire Regiment.
General Staff Officer, 3rd Grade: Captain D. J. C. K. Bernard, The
Rifle Brigade.
A.A. and Q.M.G.: Col. D. Sapte, Reserve of Officers (late
Northumberland Fusiliers).
D.A.A. and Q.M.G.: Major C. E. Hollins, Lincolnshire Regiment.
D.A.Q.M.G.1: Major W. M. Royston-Piggott, Army Service Corps.
D.A.D.O.S.: Major S. R. King, A.O.D.
A.P.M.: Lieutenant Viscount Powerscourt, M.V.O., Irish Guards, S.R.
A.D.M.S.: Lieut.-Col. H. D. Rowan, Royal Army Medical Corps.
D.A.D.M.S.: Major C. W. Holden, Royal Army Medical Corps.
29TH BRIGADE.
G.O.C.: Brigadier-General R. J. Cooper, C.V.O.
Brigade-Major: Capt. A. H. McCleverty, 2nd Rajput Light Infantry.
Staff Captain: Capt. G. Nugent, Royal Irish Rifles.
Consisting of:—
10th Hampshire Regiment, commanded by Lieut.-Col. W. D. Bewsher.
6th Royal Irish Rifles, commanded by Lieut.-Col. E. C. Bradford.
5th Connaught Rangers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. H. F. N. Jourdain.
6th Leinster Regiment, commanded by Lieut.-Col. J. Craske, D.S.O.
30TH BRIGADE.
G.O.C.: Brigadier-General L. L. Nicol.
Brigade-Major: Major E. C. Alexander, D.S.O., 55th Rifles, Indian
Army.
Staff Captain: Capt. H. T. Goodland, Royal Munster Fusiliers.
Consisting of:—
6th Royal Munster Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. V. T.
Worship, D.S.O.
7th Royal Munster Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. H. Gore.
6th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. P. G. A. Cox.
7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. G. Downing.
31ST BRIGADE.
G.O.C.: Brigadier-General F. F. Hill, C.B., D.S.O.
Brigade-Major: Capt. W. J. N. Cooke-Collis, Royal Irish Rifles.
Staff Captain: Capt. T. J. D. Atkinson, Royal Irish Fusiliers.
Consisting of:—
5th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. A. S.
Vanrenen.
6th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. H. M.
Cliffe.
5th Royal Irish Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. M. J. W. Pike.
6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, commanded by Lieut.-Col. F. A. Greer.
DIVISIONAL TROOPS.
5th Royal Irish Regiment (Pioneers) commanded by Lieut.-Col. The
Earl of Granard, K.P.
DIVISIONAL ARTILLERY.
Brigadier-General, R.A.: Brigadier-General G. S. Duffus.
Brigade-Major: Capt. F. W. Barron, R.A.
Staff Captain: Captain Sir G. Beaumont.
Consisting of:—
54th Brigade Royal Field Artillery, commanded by Lieut.-Col. J.
F. Cadell.
55th Royal Field Artillery, commanded by Lieut.-Col. H. R. Peck.
56th Brigade Royal Field Artillery, commanded by Brevet-Col. J.
H. Jellett.
The 57th (Howitzer) Brigade, R.F.A., remained in England.
ROYAL ENGINEERS.
Commanding Officer, Royal Engineers: Lieut.-Col. F. K. Fair.
Consisting of:—
65th Field Company, R.E.
66th ditto
85th ditto
10th Signal Company, commanded by Capt. L. H. Smithers.
ROYAL ARMY MEDICAL CORPS.
30th Field Ambulance, commanded by Lieut.-Col. P. MacKessack.
31st Field Ambulance, commanded by Lieut.-Col. D. D. Shanahan.
32nd Field Ambulance, commanded by Lieut.-Col. T. C. Lauder.
10th Divisional Cyclist Corps, commanded by Capt. B. S. James.
There is one particular in which the British Army may fairly claim to
be superior to any force in the world, and that is in embarkation.
Years of oversea expeditions, culminating in the South African War,
have given us abundant experience in this class of work, and the
fact that even in a newly-formed unit like the 10th Division every
battalion contained at least one officer who had taken a draft to
India, helped to make things run smoothly. The voyage itself was
uneventful. For the most part the troopships employed were Atlantic
liners, and the accommodation and food provided for officers might be
called luxurious. There were, however, two flies in the ointment. The
architect of the boats had designed them rather for a North Atlantic
winter than for summer in the Mediterranean, and the fact that at
night every aperture had to be tightly closed for fear lest a gleam
of light might attract an enemy submarine, made sleep difficult. The
men, who were closely packed, found it impossible in their berths
down below, and the officer of the watch was obliged to pick his way
among hundreds of prostrate forms as he went from one end of the deck
to the other.
The second grievance was lack of deck space, which precluded anything
in the shape of violent exercise. Attempts at physical drill were
made wherever there was an inch of spare room, and for the rest
lectures and boat drill whiled away the tedium of the day. Almost
the only soldiers on board with a definite occupation were the
machine-gunners perched with their guns on the highest available
points, and keeping a keen look-out for periscopes. Responsibility
also fell upon the officer of the watch, who was obliged to make a
tour of the ship, looking out for unauthorised smoking and unscreened
lights every hour, and reporting “All correct” to the ship’s officer
on the bridge. For the rest, the foreseeing ones who had provided
themselves with literature read; officers smoked and played bridge;
men smoked, played “House” and dozed; but through all the lethargy
and laziness there ran a suppressed undercurrent of suspense and
excitement.
The bulk of the transports conveying the Division called at Malta
and Alexandria, on their way from Devonport to Mudros, but one
gigantic Cunarder, having on board Divisional Headquarters, 30th
Brigade Headquarters, the 6th Leinster Regiment, 6th and 7th Royal
Munster Fusiliers, and detachments of the 5th Royal Irish Regiment
(Pioneers), and 5th The Connaught Rangers, sailed direct from
Liverpool to Mudros, and cast anchor there on July 16th. These
troops were the first of the Division to reach the advanced base of
the Dardanelles operations, and it was with eager curiosity that
they looked at the novel scene. They were in a land-locked harbour,
which from the contour of the hills surrounding it might have been
a bay on the Connemara coast had not land and sea been so very
different in colour. Soft and brilliant as the lights and tints of
an Irish landscape are, nothing in Ireland ever resembled the deep
but sparkling blue of the water, and the tawny slopes of the hills
of Lemnos. Northward, at the end of the harbour, the store-ships and
water-boats lay at anchor; midway were the transports, and near the
entrance the French and British warships.
On the eastern shore dust-coloured tents told of the presence of
hospitals; and to the west, lines of huddled bivouacs indicated
some concentration of newly-arrived troops. The heart of the
place, from which every nerve and pulse throbbed, was a big, grey,
single-funnelled liner, anchored near the eastern shore. Here were
the headquarters of the Inspector-General of Communications, and the
Principal Naval Transport Officer; here the impecunious sought the
Field Cashier; and the greedy endeavoured (unsuccessfully, unless
they had friends aboard) to obtain a civilised meal. Next to her a
big transport acted as Ordnance Store, and issued indiscriminately
grenades and gum-boots, socks and shrapnel. At this time, no ferries
had been instituted, and communication with these ships, though
essential, was not easy. If you were a person of importance, a launch
was sent for you; if, as was more likely, you were not, you chartered
a Greek boat, and did your best to persuade the pirate in charge of
it to wait while you transacted your business on board.
We had ample time to appreciate this factor in the situation as it
was three days before we disembarked. During that time we succeeded
in learning a little about the conditions of warfare in what we
began to call “the Peninsula.” Part of the 29th Division, which
by its conduct in the first landing had won itself the title of
“Incomparable,” was back at Mudros resting, and many of its officers
came on board to look for friends. Thus we learned from men who had
been in Gallipoli since they had struggled through the surf and
the wire on April 24th the truth as to the nature of the fighting
there. They taught us much by their words, but even more by their
appearance; for though fit, they were thin and worn, and their eyes
carried a weary look that told of the strain that they had been
through. For the first time we began to realise that strong nerves
were a great asset in war.
At last the order for disembarkation came, and a string of pinnaces,
towed by steam launches from the battleships, conveyed the men
ashore. Kits followed in lighters, and wise officers seized the
opportunity to add to their mess stores as much stuff as the purser
of the transport would let them have. It was our last contact with
civilisation.
On the beach there was a considerable amount of confusion. The
western side of the harbour had only recently been taken into
use by troops, and though piers had been made, roads were as
yet non-existent. Lighters were discharging kit and stores at
half-a-dozen different points, and the prudent officer took steps to
mount a guard wherever he saw any of his stuff. In war, primitive
conditions rule, and it is injudicious to place too much confidence
in the honesty of your neighbours.
At last the overworked staff were able to disentangle the different
units, and allot them their respective areas, and the nucleus of
the Division found itself installed in the crest of a ridge running
northward, with the harbour on the east, and a shallow lagoon on the
west. Across the lagoon lay a white-washed Greek village, surrounded
by shady trees, in which Divisional Headquarters were established,
and behind this rose the steep hills that divided Mudros from
Castro, the capital of Lemnos. Further south was another village
with a church; otherwise the only features of the landscape were
a ruined tower and half-a-dozen windmills. Except at Divisional
Headquarters there was not a tree to be seen. The ground was a mass
of stones. Connaught is stony, but there the stones are of decent
size. In Mudros, they were so small and so numerous that it took an
hour to clear a space big enough for a bed. Between the stones were
thistles and stubble, and here and there a prickly blue flower. In
the distance one or two patches of tillage shone green, but except
for these everything was dusty, parched and barren. On the whole an
unattractive prospect.
However, it was necessary to make the best of it, and soon the
bivouacs were up, though their construction was made more difficult
by the complete absence of wood of any kind. The men had been
instructed to supplement the blanket, which they had brought from
England, by another taken from the ship’s stores, and the hillside
soon presented to the eye an endless repetition of the word “Cunard”
in red letters. Officers soon found it impossible to obtain either
shelter, tables, or seats sufficient for a battalion mess, and
companies began to mess by themselves. Few parades could be held, for
there were very few lorries and no animals at all in Mudros West, so
that practically everything required by the troops had to be carried
up from the beach by hand. Most of the camps were nearly a mile from
the Supply Depôt, so that each fatigue entailed a two-mile march, and
by the time that the men had carried out a ration fatigue, a wood
fatigue, and two water fatigues, it was hard to ask them to do much
more. A few short route marches were performed, but most commanding
officers were reluctant to impose on the men harder tasks than those
absolutely necessary before they became acclimatized.
[Illustration: SARI BAIR]
[Illustration: MUDROS. THE AUTHORS BIVOUAC
Already we were beginning to make the acquaintance of four of the
Gallipoli plagues—dust, (_In the background is the officers’
mess_)] flies, thirst and enteritis. Our situation on the spur
was exposed to a gentle breeze from the north. At first we rejoiced
at this, thinking it would keep away flies and make things cooler;
but soon we realized that what we gained in this respect we lost in
dust. From the sandy beach, from the trampled tracks leading to the
supply depôts, from the bivouacs to windward, it swept down on us,
till eyes stung and food was masked with it. It became intensified
when a fatigue party or, worst of all, a lorry, swept past, and the
principal problem confronting a mess-president was to place the mess
and kitchen where they got least of it.
The flies were indescribable. For a day or two they seemed
comparatively rare, and we hoped that we were going to escape
from them; but some instinct drew them to us, and at the end of a
week they swarmed. All food was instantly covered with them, and
sleep between sunrise and sunset was impossible except for a few
who had provided themselves with mosquito nets. Not only did they
cause irritation, but infection. There appeared to be a shortage
of disinfectants, and it was impossible either to check their
multiplication, or to prevent them from transmitting disease. They
had, however, one negative merit: they neither bit nor stung. If
instead of the common housefly we had been afflicted with midges or
mosquitoes, our lot would have been infinitely worse.
The third plague was thirst. In July, in the Eastern Mediterranean,
the sun is almost vertical; and to men in bivouac whose only shelter
is a thin waterproof sheet or blanket rigged up on a couple of
sticks, it causes tortures of thirst. All day long one sweats, and
one’s system yearns for drink to take the place of the moisture one
is losing. Unfortunately, Lemnos is a badly-watered island, and July
was the driest season of the year. All the wells in the villages
were needed by the Greek inhabitants: and though more were dug, many
of them ran dry, and the water in those that held it was brackish
and unsuitable for drinking. The bulk of the drinking-water used by
the troops was brought by boat from Port Said and Alexandria, and
not only was it lukewarm and tasteless, but the supply was strictly
limited. The allowance per man was one gallon per day; and though on
the surface this appears liberal, yet when it is reflected that in
1876 the consumption of water per head in London was 29 gallons,[1]
it will be seen that great care had to be exercised. Even this scanty
allowance did not always reach the men intact, for the water-carts of
some units had not arrived, and so the whole of it had to be carried
and stored in camp-kettles. In order to spare the men labour,
arrangements were made by which these camp-kettles were to be carried
in a motor-lorry; but on the primitive roads so much was spilt as to
render the experiment futile. Even in carrying by hand, a certain
amount of leakage took place. In order to control the issue of water,
most of it, after the men had filled their water-bottles, was used
for tea, which though refreshing, can hardly be called a cooling
drink. However, Greek hawkers brought baskets of eggs, lemons,
tomatoes and water melons. The last, though tasteless, were juicy and
cool, and the men purchased and ate large quantities of them.
Possibly they were in part to blame for the fourth affliction that
befell us in the shape of enteritis. Though not very severe, this
affliction was widespread, hardly anyone being free from it. A few
went sick, but for every man who reported himself to the doctor,
there were ten who were doing their duty without complaining that
they were indisposed. Naturally, men were reluctant to report sick
just before going into action for the first time; but though they
were able to carry on, yet there was a general lowering of vitality
and loss of energy due to this cause, which acted as a serious
handicap in the difficult days to come.
Some thought that this epidemic was caused by the food issued to the
men, and it was certainly possible to imagine a diet more suited
to a tropical climate than salt bully beef and hard dry biscuits.
An issue of rice was, however, sanctioned, and this boiled with
currants formed the men’s usual midday meal—the inevitable stew of
bully, cooked in a dixie with dessicated vegetables, being reserved
till the evening. The rice would have been nicer had it been cooked
with milk, but the small allowance of condensed milk available was
needed for tea. The bully, too, could have been made more palatable
had curry-powder been forthcoming, as the officers’ messes which
possessed this condiment found it invaluable in disguising the
peculiar flavour. Tinned meat is not suited to tropical climates.
However, very few officers’ messes had brought much in the way
of stores, as they were uncertain whether they would be able to
carry them, and all officers soon found themselves reduced to the
same rations as the men, supplemented by the few eggs and tomatoes
obtainable from Greek hawkers. Except for these hawkers, Mudros West
had no resources for shopping at this time. All villages were out of
bounds, and there was at this period no canteen—even a Greek one.
One advantage, however, the place possessed: the bathing was
magnificent. From 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. (or, as we were learning to call
it, from 8 to 18 o’clock), it was forbidden, as the doctors feared
sunstroke; but at six in the evening the bulk of the day’s work over,
everyone who could leave camp trooped down to a little bay. The
men undressed on the shore, the officers on a small pier which ran
out far enough to make a dive possible. The water was perfect—warm
enough to make it possible to stay in for an hour, and yet cool
and refreshing after the heat and dust of the day. The western
sun, no longer blazing fiercely overhead, made dressing and drying
a pleasure; and the walk up the hill to the evening meal in the
twilight made one feel that the world was not such a bad place after
all. There was more cheerfulness and laughter at the bathing place
than anywhere else in Mudros. Many friendships were made there, some
soon to be severed by Death, and men who had begun to harp on the
truth of Kipling’s words:
“Comfort, content, delight,
The ages slow brought gain.
They vanished in a night:
Ourselves alone remain.”
were forced to admit that pleasure and happiness had not completely
vanished from the world.
While the first comers were becoming hardened to the discomforts of
the Island, the remainder of the Division began to arrive. They had
called at Alexandria, the base of the Mediterranean Expeditionary
Force, and had left there the details allotted to the base and the
bulk of their kit, wagons and water-carts. The artillery had also
been ordered to remain in Egypt till further orders. The rest of
the 29th Brigade, with their Brigade Headquarters, arrived between
the 23rd and 29th of July, and they were followed by the rest of the
Pioneer Battalion, the Field Companies of the Royal Engineers, the
Signal Company, who found their motor-cycles more hindrance than help
on the roadless Island, the Cyclists, and the Field Ambulances. These
last no sooner arrived than they were called on to receive patients,
for the prevalent malady had already knocked some men out. It was a
severe test, but the doctors and orderlies rose to it splendidly,
providing for their patients from their own private stores when
Government supplies were not available.
The newly-arrived units were for the most part employed on fatigues.
Everything needed on the Peninsula had to be carried up to camp:
everything else, including the base kits of the units who had not
called at Alexandria, had to be carried back again to the beach,
where a dump was being formed inside a barbed wire fence. Officers
were ordered to lighten their valises, so that they could be carried
with ease by one man, and there was much cogitation as to what should
be taken and what left behind. As a matter of fact, we saw so little
of our valises after landing in the Peninsula that the careful
distinction established between essentials (bedding, spare socks
and shirt) and non-essentials (spare coat and breeches and boots)
was wasted. Most of us determined to rely on our packs, which we
stuffed with a mackintosh, razor, soap, sponge, and (in my own case)
a couple of books. From this packing, however, the 29th Brigade were
distracted by Brigade night operations, which took the form of an
attack on a hill five miles away. The march in the dark over broken
and stony ground proved very trying to the men, who had not recovered
the condition which they had lost on the voyage, and many of them
dropped off to sleep as soon as they halted. It became clear to us
that our task was likely to be an arduous one.
Meanwhile, we began to wonder as to the whereabouts of the remainder
of the Division, since half of the 30th Brigade and the entire 31st
had not landed. The transports conveying them had reached Mudros,
but owing to the shortage of water it had been decided not to land
them there, but to send them to Mitylene. The fact that it was found
impossible to concentrate three divisions at Mudros simultaneously,
illustrates the enormous increase that has taken place in the
numbers employed in modern war. The most famous military expedition
of ancient history had its rendezvous and base at Lemnos before it
proceeded to attack Troy, and it would appear probable that Mudros
Bay, the largest and best harbour on the Island, was the one used by
the fleet of Agamemnon. There seems no reason to suppose that the
water supply there has diminished, and it is certain that as the time
needed for the voyage was longer, the sailing ships and oared galleys
in which the Greek host made their way to the Trojan plain, must have
been furnished with a copious supply of drinking-water before they
set sail. Homer does not record the fact that they suffered from
thirst, and so it is clear that the whole army was able to subsist
on what proved insufficient for less than 50,000 British soldiers.
The theory of Professor Delbrück[2] that the numbers taking part
in ancient battles were grossly exaggerated, seems to rest on some
foundation.
In some respects the units that went to Mitylene were more fortunate
than the rest of the Division. They did not disembark, but remained
on board the liners which had brought them out from England, thus
securing good food and immunity from dust and flies. Mitylene,
moreover, is far more beautiful than Mudros, and its smiling farms
set in the midst of fruit trees and olive groves, were more welcome
to the eye than the bare stony hills of Lemnos. There was, too, a
larger and more friendly Greek population. Boats from the shore came
out loaded with melons, grapes, and other varieties of fruit, so that
those men who were possessed of money could get a change of diet.
The worst that the 31st Brigade and 6th and 7th Dublin Fusiliers had
to complain of, was dullness. Except for bathing and an occasional
route march on shore, there was but little to break the monotony
of shipboard life; and after a week or so in harbour, everyone was
beginning to be a little “fed-up.”
They disliked, too, the fact that they appeared to have lost the rest
of the Division, and had no information about their future movements;
but they were no worse off in that respect than the rest of us. All
that we knew was, that we were part of the 9th Corps, commanded by
Lieut.-General Sir F. Stopford. We knew little of him, but we knew
that he was an Irishman and were prepared to take him on trust.
Battalion commanders had been issued with sets of maps which, when
put together, covered the whole of the Gallipoli Peninsula and part
of the Asiatic coast; but possibly this was only a “blind.” Rumours,
of course, were plentiful and very varied: a strong favourite was one
which may conceivably have been encouraged by those in authority,
and which suggested that we were intended to make a descent on
Smyrna. The fact that the remainder of the Division were known to
be at Mitylene tended to confirm this, though there were sceptics
who flouted this view and declared that we were to land near Enos in
order to co-operate with the Bulgarian Army.
We had already been informed by irresponsible individuals that
Bulgaria had declared war on Turkey. All these rumours undoubtedly
tried the nerves of the troops, but secrecy was absolutely essential.
The Island was not entirely under Allied control, a considerable part
of the population were Turks, and any leakage of information would
have proved fatal to the General’s plans. As it was, we could see
in the evening, as the ferry boats sailed out with their loads of
reinforcements past the cheering battleships, bonfires kindled on the
heights in order to inform the enemy on the mainland of the numbers
and strength of the troops being moved. Some of us, as we watched
them, recalled the beacons which signalled to Argos from the same
peaks the news that Troy had fallen, and wondered if the day was soon
to come when they would announce the capture of Constantinople.
In order that the movements of the Division may be understood, it is
now necessary to give a short summary of the plan of campaign adopted
by General Ian Hamilton; but it must be borne in mind that at the
time regimental officers and men knew nothing of what was intended.
The objective of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force was to secure
the high ground commanding the Narrows of the Dardanelles, and to
silence or capture the Turkish batteries which barred its passage to
the Fleet. In order to achieve this object, Sir Ian Hamilton had
at the end of April landed the bulk of his forces at the Southern
extremity of the Gallipoli Peninsula. The landing was achieved by the
29th Division, much assisted by a subsidiary landing on the Asiatic
coast executed by a French Division. On the following day the French
re-embarked and joined the British in Gallipoli.
At this period Sir Ian Hamilton had at his disposal at Cape Helles
the 29th Division, the 43rd (East Lancashire) Territorial Division,
the Royal Naval Division, and two French Divisions. With these
troops, he made repeated assaults on the Turkish positions, on
Achi Baba, but although he succeeded in considerably enlarging
the area held by him, the main Turkish defences remained intact.
Reinforcements in the shape of the 52nd (Lowland) Territorial
Division and the 29th Indian Brigade hardly did more than compensate
for wastage due to wounds and disease; and by the beginning of
July it was clear to the Commander-in-Chief that, in spite of the
desperate courage displayed by his troops, little was to be gained by
keeping on hammering at Achi Baba. If it were won it would only be at
a terrific cost, and its capture would not mean decisive victory, as
behind lay another and taller mountain, Kilid Bahr, which barred the
way to Maidos and the Narrows.
[Illustration: SARI BAIR FROM SUVLA
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
Fortunately, Cape Helles was not the only foothold that we had
gained in the Peninsula. While the landing there was taking place on
April 25th the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, under General
Sir William Birdwood, had succeeded in establishing itself on shore
about a mile north of Gaba Tepe, about half-way up the western coast
of Gallipoli. It was a marvellous achievement for troops who had had
little more than six months’ training, but in physique and courage
Australians and New Zealanders are unsurpassed by any soldiers in the
world, and the conditions under which they were called on to fight
made initiative and endurance of greater value than rigid discipline.
In their first success they pressed on half-way across the Peninsula;
but the ground that they occupied was too great in extent to be held
by two Divisions, and they were forced to fall back to the coast.
There they held an irregular semi-circle drawn at a radius of about
a mile from the little cove, christened in their honour _Anzac_. In
parts, the Turkish lines were close to the beach, and the Australians
clung to the crest with nothing but a precipice between them and
the sea: elsewhere a narrow salient pointed inland into a tangle of
hills and gullies, meeting with the usual fate of salients in being
bombarded from both flanks. As a matter of fact, the whole Anzac
position was a salient, and even the beach was regularly swept by the
enemy’s artillery and pestered by snipers posted on the hills to
the northward. However, small as the area gained was, it provided a
foothold from which Sir Ian Hamilton could launch his next attack.
The plan adopted for this was as follows:—
He proposed to send to Anzac as many reinforcements as space and
water would permit, smuggling them in under cover of darkness. This
done, he would take advantage of the absence of moonlight on the
night of the 7th of August to break out northward from Anzac and
seize the backbone of the Peninsula—the high ridge of Sari Bair. This
hill ran north-east from Anzac for about four miles, and from its
highest point commanded Maidos, the Narrows, and the whole of the
lines of communication by which the Turks on Achi Baba were supplied.
At the same time, the remainder of the reinforcements for whom there
was not room at Anzac, were to effect a landing at Suvla Bay about
six miles up the coast, advance in a south-easterly direction across
the plain, and establish themselves on the northern end of the Sari
Bair ridge, thus protecting the flank of the Anzac force. While
the Turks were known to be in strength opposite Anzac, and to have
reserves at Maidos, it was believed that Suvla Bay was weakly guarded.
Sir Ian Hamilton was able to dispose of the following troops to
execute this operation. He had at Anzac the two Divisions of the
Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and reinforced them by the
29th Indian Infantry Brigade from Cape Helles. The reinforcements he
received, and was still receiving, from England, consisted of the
10th, 11th and 13th New Army Divisions, together with the infantry
of the 53rd (Welsh) and 54th (East Anglian) Territorial Divisions.
The last of these Territorials were not due to reach Mudros till
August 10th—three days after the commencement of operations. The
whole of these reinforcements on August 1st were either still at sea,
or divided between the islands of Imbros (16 miles from Gallipoli),
Lemnos (60 miles) and Mitylene (120 miles away).
The Commander-in-Chief decided to reinforce the two divisions already
serving at Anzac under Sir William Birdwood, by the Indian Brigade,
the 13th Division and the 29th Brigade of the 10th Division. All
these troops had to be conveyed to Anzac, and hidden there before the
commencement of operations. To the landing at Suvla Bay he allotted
the 11th Division supported by the 10th Division (less one brigade).
The 53rd and 54th (Territorial) Divisions were retained as general
reserve. The control of the operations at Anzac was entrusted to
Sir W. Birdwood, who placed Major-General Sir A. Godley in charge
of the attack on Sari Bair. The troops allocated to this operation
were the Australian and New Zealand Division, two Brigades of the
13th Division, and the Indian Brigade. The Anzac position was to be
held, and the feint attack on the Lone Pine position executed by
the 1st Australian Division. The 29th Brigade (10th Division) and
38th Brigade (13th Division) were held in reserve. At Suvla, Sir F.
Stopford was in command, and it was decided that the 11th Division
which was concentrated at Imbros should execute the first landing,
and that the 30th and 31st Brigades of the 10th Division should
arrive from Mudros and Mitylene at dawn in support.
It will be seen how great a part in these operations was to be
played by newly-formed units which had had no experience of war. The
Australians, New Zealanders, and Indians had been in the Peninsula
for three months, and though their ranks had been thinned yet those
who remained were hardened and acclimatized. The New Army and
Territorial Divisions had come straight from England, and though
the 13th Division had spent ten days in the trenches at Helles, the
remainder as units had never heard a shot fired in anger. It is true
that they had many experienced soldiers in their ranks. The General
Commanding the 10th Division had seen the last warriors of Mahdism
lying dead on their sheepskins around the corpse of their Khalifa.
One of the Brigadiers had witnessed the downfall of Cetewayo’s power
at Ulundi; another had marched with the Guards Brigade across the
desert to Tel-el-Kebir; while the third had played his part in the
desperate fighting outside Suakim in 1884. Nearly all the Colonels
and many of the Company Commanders had served in the South African
War, and so had a number of the senior N.C.O.’s. Nevertheless, the
men, as a whole, were inexperienced, and the organization of the
units had not been tested under the stern conditions which prevailed
in the Peninsula. To attempt the landing at Suvla with untried
troops, and staffs which had not been tested on service and were not
in the habit of working together, was a great adventure; but the
prizes of victory were great.
One thing was certain: never did soldiers go forth to battle with
sterner and more resolved determination to maintain the honour of
their country and their regiment unsullied than the men of the 10th
Division. It was the first trial of the New Army in a great battle.
We remembered the traditions of our regiments—traditions dearly
gained and dearly cherished by generations of Irish soldiers. On the
colours of the Royal Irish Fusiliers blazed the glorious name of
Barrosa, and the Connaught Rangers cherished the memory of Salamanca
and the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz. The Royal Irish, the
oldest Irish regiment of the line, had fought at Namur and Blenheim,
and there was no lack of glory won in more recent fighting for the
Dublins round Ladysmith and the Inniskillings at Pieter’s Hill had
performed deeds never to be forgotten. Each and every regiment had
had its name inscribed on the scroll of fame by the men of the past:
the 10th Division were resolute that their Service battalions should
be worthy of those imperishable traditions.
CHAPTER III
THE 29TH BRIGADE AT ANZAC
“Then lift the flag of the Last Crusade
And fill the ranks of the Last Brigade;
March on to the fields where the world’s remade
And the Ancient Dreams come true.”—_T. M. Kettle._
On August the 4th, as the Division were bemoaning the fact that
the first anniversary of the war had arrived without their having
heard a shot fired in action, the 29th Brigade received orders to
send three officers and approximately 180 men from each battalion
to the newly-formed Divisional Base Depôt. These were intended to
remain at Mudros and to act as a first reinforcement when needed. As
a rule, the officers and men selected for this duty were those who
were in bad health, as it was hoped that a few days’ rest might make
them better acclimatized. They were, however, highly disgusted at
being left behind, not knowing that they would rejoin in less than
a week. They marched over to their new camp on the afternoon of the
4th, and those who were left packed up in earnest. That evening,
definite orders were received: battalions were to hold themselves in
readiness to embark for the Peninsula at 9 a.m. next day, and C.O.’s
were permitted to inform Company Commanders in confidence that the
destination was Anzac. At that time, no one had ever heard of the
place, but diligent search on the numerous maps, with which units
had been supplied, at last revealed Anzac Cove marked a mile north
of Gaba Tepe. “The Australian place,” the best informed called it.
So the Brigade were not destined to make a new landing. That, at any
rate, was something to know, and we had to content ourselves with it,
for nothing further was divulged. Subalterns and the rank and file
did not even know what the destination was: all that they were told
was that we were to embark.
Before dawn, each of the two chaplains attached to the Brigade held
a service. The Church of England Chaplain, the Rev. J. W. Crozier,
celebrated Holy Communion in the operating tent of the 30th Field
Ambulance, while Father O’Connor said Mass in the open air just
outside the camp. It had been decided that the Chaplains were not to
come with the Brigade, but were to remain with the Field Ambulance.
This decision caused much regret, not only to the Chaplains
themselves, but to all ranks in the Brigade. The Roman Catholics in
particular disliked losing Father O’Connor even temporarily, for he
was personally loved by the men, and in addition the Irish soldier
faces death twice as cheerfully when fortified by the ministrations
of his Church. Never were more reverent and solemn worshippers seen
than at those two short services at Mudros, as the well remembered
words were murmured, and the grey twilight shone faintly on the faces
of many who were soon to die.
As the last prayers were uttered, the dawn was breaking, a grey dawn
fretted with many clouds. The congregations dispersed and took up
the burden of work and war again. A hasty breakfast was swallowed,
valises were strapped up and carried by fatigue parties down to the
pier, while the men rolled up their blankets and ground sheets and
fastened them to their packs. In the deserted lines, officers were
endeavouring to prevent improvident soldiers from eating or leaving
behind them part of the three days’ rations with which they had just
been issued, while bands of predatory Greek children, who were on the
look-out for anything that they could pick up, were driven away with
threats and sometimes with blows. Then between eight and nine o’clock
the battalions fell in, ready at last for the great adventure.
It is often difficult for the historian, writing years after the
event, to ascertain the exact dress worn by those who took part in
the events portrayed in his page, and so it may be well to put on
record the outward aspect of the Irish Division when it left for
Gallipoli. Officers and men were dressed alike in thin, sand-coloured
khaki drill. Shorts were forbidden, and the men wore their trousers
tucked into putties of the darker khaki shade that is worn in
England. Except for the metal shoulder titles, there were not many
marks to distinguish the different units, since England had been
left at such short notice that there had been little time to procure
badges of coloured cloth to sew on the big mushroom-shaped helmets.
The Royal Irish Rifles had improvised a green and black patch,
however, and the officers of the Hampshires had mounted a claret and
yellow one. The Colonel of the Leinsters had with infinite ingenuity
procured ink, and stencilled an enormous black “L” on the side of
each helmet. The Connaught Rangers had ordered shamrock badges with
the device “5 C.R.,” but their ambition was their undoing, since
these elaborate decorations took so long to make that they did not
reach the Peninsula until most of those who were to wear them had
been killed or invalided. The 7th Munsters were more fortunate, and
went into action with a green shamrock on each arm just below the
shoulder. A few Fusilier officers sported a hackle of the regimental
colour, but this conspicuous ornament drew too much attention to the
wearer to make it safe in Gallipoli. It mattered less what the men
wore on their bodies, since it was almost impossible to see it, so
heavily were they laden.
They hardly looked like fighting, and would have run a poor chance
if they had had to swim. On their backs they had their great-coats,
rolled in their packs, on top of which they carried two blankets and
a waterproof sheet. Their haversacks contained three days’ rations;
in their pouches, and festooned round their necks, were two hundred
rounds of ammunition, and in addition to rifle, bayonet, entrenching
implement and water-bottle, every man carried either a pick, shovel,
or camp-kettle. The signallers and machine-gunners were loaded up
with their technical equipment, and the effect of the whole parade,
topped as it was by broad-brimmed sun-helmets, suggested strength
rather than mobility. Heavily the columns swung down to the beach,
and there waited, for embarkation proved a slow process. The sun was
hot, and there was no shade, so that many of the men emptied their
water-bottles before they had been there long, though fortunately it
was possible to refill them at a neighbouring well. Many more bought
watermelons, and the far-seeing laid in a stock of as many eggs and
lemons as they could carry, to take to the Peninsula. The loads that
the naval pinnaces could carry were small, and it was only after
repeated journeys that at 3.30 p.m. the whole Brigade embarked.
The infantry were not accompanied by either the Field Company Royal
Engineers, or the Field Ambulance, which were usually attached to the
Brigade. They were to accompany the remainder of the Division.
The ships used as ferries between Mudros and the Peninsula were not
large, and the men found themselves tightly packed fore and aft, with
only just enough room to squat or lie on the decks. The boats had,
however, seen plenty of service, and their officers and men were
able to supply abundance of good advice. As soon as night fell, no
lights of any kind were permitted, and consequently it was necessary
for every man to remain close to his kit, or fearful confusion would
follow at disembarkation. It was evident that landing was likely to
be somewhat of a trial, as even the numbers of changes of station
that the Brigade had had at home had given them no practice in
disembarking in pitch darkness. No food was obtainable on board, but
there was plenty of hot water, so that the men were able to make tea
in their mess-tins to wash down the bully and biscuit taken from
their iron ration.
All ranks had settled down pretty comfortably by the time the boats
approached Imbros, and the sun sank in a dark bank of clouds behind
the Lemnos hills. A few slept, but most were too excited to do so;
for as the ship approached the invisible coast the flashes of
the guns became visible, and a broad searchlight beam stabbed the
sky from the summit of Achi Baba. A little further up the coast a
destroyer had focussed her searchlight on a path down the face of a
cliff, and the round circle of light looked for all the world like a
magic lantern in a village entertainment at home. On they steamed,
leaving all this behind, and most dozed off, only to be awakened by
the stoppage of the boat. By straining one’s eyes one could see a few
more ships anchored close by, but the only other sign of life was
a couple of dim lights, which seemed to be high overhead. This was
Anzac.
The Brigade was soon, however, to discover that the Turks were
vigilant, for a sniper, hearing the rattle of the anchor-chain
of one of the boats, fired at a venture and wounded a man of the
Leinster Regiment in the chest. A Connaught Ranger was also wounded
in the hand. Clearly the warnings against lights and noise were
justified. However, nothing could be done but to get the men into
their equipment and wait. At last the lighters grunted up alongside
and disembarkation began. The darkness was intense, and it was
impossible to speak above a whisper. Men of all companies were
crowded together; N.C.O.’s were quite unrecognisable, and no previous
rehearsal had been possible. However, good will triumphed over these
obstacles. One by one the men and their burdens were hurried into the
lighters, the specialists unloaded their technical equipment, and
disembarkation proceeded smoothly, if not quickly.
By the time the last ship began to unload her troops the first
traces of the dawn were appearing in the sky, and the sailors on
the lighters became very anxious. Not only was it undesirable that
the Turks should learn that large reinforcements were being sent
to Anzac, but the whole of the harbour was exposed to the fire of
the enemy’s guns, and if the slow-moving lighters were detected by
daylight, they would have to pass through a storm of shrapnel, and
would have suffered many casualties. Most of the men did not realise
this, and were inclined to be deliberate in their movements, but,
bustled by sailors and officers, they got ashore safely. They found
themselves in the grey dawn standing on the shores of a little bay.
Above them towered broken sandy slopes, at the foot of which stood a
narrow strip of beach, covered with sandbagged dug-outs and piles of
forage and rations. They massed under cover of these; officers and
company-sergeant-majors hurriedly checked their numbers as far as it
was possible to do so, and then they were led away by New Zealand
guides to a dangerous position.
A certain amount of cover had already been prepared by Australian
and New Zealand digging parties, in what was very rightly known
as Shrapnel Gully. Battalions followed the guides up a low ridge
of sandhills, through a short sap, and past a row of water-tanks,
on to a path which wound up between two high hills. It was, as we
discovered later, wider than most gullies in Gallipoli, and if
anything the slopes were gentler; but it was a fair specimen of its
kind. On the southern side the formation was regular; to the north
a smaller gully running into it formed a sort of bay about two
hundred yards in circumference. Both slopes were covered with low
prickly scrub, rising at its highest to about four feet; in between
were patches of sand and the dug-outs prepared for the brigade. To
the south these were arranged regularly in rows, something like the
galleries of the model coal-mine in the South Kensington Museum,
and these were allotted to the Hampshires, Rifles, and Leinsters.
On the northern slope they were arranged irregularly on the side of
the small bay, and were occupied by the Connaught Rangers. Brigade
Headquarters were established in a sandbagged dug-out close to the
road that ran down the bottom of the gully.
The men were distributed among their dug-outs, and the officers sat
down to take stock of the situation. We had arrived, but that was
all that we knew. There was any amount of noise, but nothing to look
at, and as the noise of firing seemed to come from every point of
the compass, including the sea, it hardly enlightened us as to where
in particular the fighting was going on. It was impossible to try
and see anything, as all ranks had been warned that to go up to the
top of any of the hills would probably be fatal. Standing orders,
however, had been issued to company commanders, who sat down in their
dug-outs to study them. No fires or lights of any kind were allowed
after dark, and green wood was never to be used for fires. These were
obvious precautions, as light or smoke would be certain to cause
heavy shelling.
An order was also issued that every man was to wear a white band six
inches wide, on each arm, and a white patch eight inches square, in
the middle of his back. The materials for these had been brought
with battalions from Mudros, and all ranks set to work at tailoring.
It was clear from this that we were likely to take part in a night
attack, and this impression was confirmed by the warning soon passed
round that men were to rest as much as possible during the day.
Absolutely nothing more was known, not even where the remainder
of the Division were. It was not until a conference of Commanding
Officers was held at Brigade Headquarters at 4.30 p.m. that it was
discovered that the brigade was on its own! We also received orders
that the men’s packs, great-coats, blankets, and waterproof sheets,
together with all the officers’ valises, were to be left in our
present position, one N.C.O. and eight men per battalion remaining in
charge of them. Units were instructed to hold themselves in readiness
to move off at 1 a.m. the following morning.
Though we had been told to rest, the heat and the flies made sleep
impossible. Just before leaving Mudros, a mail from home had arrived,
so there were a few three-week old English papers to look at, and
the rest of the time was spent in watching the Australians passing
up and down the road at the bottom of the gully. They were the first
Australians that we had seen, and one could not help admiring their
splendid physique and the practical way in which they had adapted
their costume to the conditions prevailing on the Peninsula. Some
were stripped to the waist, and few wore more clothing than boots,
a slouch hat, a sleeveless shirt, open at the breast, and a pair
of the shortest shorts that ever occurred to the imagination of a
tailor. As a result of this primitive costume, they were burnt to a
rich brown by the Gallipoli sun. They were splendid men, but quite
different in physique from the European, for their sloping shoulders,
loose-knit limbs, and long thin legs suggested an apparent reversion
to the kangaroo type as the result of climatic conditions. Above all,
they seemed absolutely devoid of nerves; three months of constant
shelling, which had left its mark even on the veterans of the 29th
Division, appeared to have no effect of any kind on the Australians.
Clearly, they were very good men to fight side by side with.
About eleven a.m. the Turks began to shell the gully with shrapnel.
Most of their shells were badly fused, and burst too high, but one
“blind” shell knocked off the head of a Connaught Ranger. A man in
the Rifles was also killed, and these catastrophes had the effect
of inducing the men who had been watching the bursting shells with
great curiosity, to take cover in their dug-outs. In spite of this
precaution, each unit had several men wounded, Lieutenant Mayne of
the Rifles also being hit. About noon the bombardment slackened
for a time, only to be renewed about three in the afternoon and
continued till dusk with redoubled intensity. Many men were grazed
or bruised by spent bullets or fragments of shell, but refused to
report themselves to the Doctor. Though we were unaware of it at the
time, we were suffering from Turkish retaliation for the attack on
Lone Pine, which was going on half-a-mile away, for the Turks knowing
that Shrapnel Gully was about the only spot in the Anzac area where
reserves could be sheltered from their view, were systematically
searching it with their fire. Had their fusing been more accurate,
and had dug-outs not been prepared in readiness for the brigade, its
losses would have been heavy. As it was, the Turks hardly got value
for the shells they expended, and the men were encouraged by the
result of their baptism of fire.
It was impossible to cook the men any dinner, and after a few
mouthfuls of cold bully and lukewarm water they fell asleep in their
dug-outs as soon as it became dark. At 12.30 a.m., on Saturday, the
7th, orders were received to fall in, but the order was easier to
give than to execute. “Falling in” presupposes a parade ground of
some sort, and on a steep slope covered with bushes and dug-outs it
was not easy to discover an assembly post. Even when it had been
chosen by daylight, it was hard to find it in the pitch darkness,
and the men scattered in many little dug-outs were slow in coming
together. In some cases a company commander thought that he had been
left behind by his company, only to discover that it had not yet been
awakened. The innate perversity of inanimate objects, too, had full
play; watches stopped, electric flashlights refused to flash, and
lanyards attached themselves to every bush in the neighbourhood.
Eventually, however, the men were collected, their numbers checked,
and the brigade moved off in single file down the road at the
bottom of the gully in the direction of the sea. The Leinsters led,
followed by the Irish Rifles, Connaught Rangers and Hampshires in
the order named. Progress was slow, which was fortunate, as the
numerous halts made it possible for men who had been late in waking
to join their units. At last, however, the head of the long column
reached the bottom of Shrapnel Gully and turned northward, moving up
a subsidiary gully in the direction of Russell’s Top. At that time,
however, we knew nothing of where we were going or what we were to
do, though we could see the Great Bear hanging low over the hill
tops, and knew that we were going north. The night was very dark,
and only the outline of the hills against the star-lit sky, and the
faint white line of the path were visible. Here and there an officer
came hurrying up. “Are you the South Lancashires? Where are the 13th
Division?” It was impossible to answer these queries, for we knew
nothing of anybody’s whereabouts, and the noise was so terrific that
the words would have been inaudible.
From every hill-top came the rattle of musketry, but the dominant
note in the symphony came from the guns of the monitors drawn in
close to the beach at Anzac. They sounded as if they were only
ten yards away, although it must have been a full mile. To this
accompaniment the long line traced its way up the gully for about an
hour, halting every five minutes. While doing this, three miles to
the northward, the assaulting columns were working up the Aghyl and
Chailak Deres to the assault of Sari Bair, but we knew nothing of
this at the time. At last the order came to turn about and retrace
our steps, leaving the 6th Leinster Regiment to act as support to the
Australians. The remainder of the Brigade slowly returned to Shrapnel
Gully.
There throughout the day they waited at the side of the road, never
knowing when they might be called on to move. Every staff officer
who came near was cross-questioned, but they knew little more than
ourselves. Rumours, of course, were manifold, and for some curious
reason they all centred round a position known as Prussian Officers’
Trench. Twice we heard that it had been taken, and twice that the
attack on it had failed. To us it seemed as if the capture of this
position was vital to our success, although as a matter of fact, it
was purely a subsidiary operation. We knew nothing of the fighting
at Lone Pine, we had then never heard the name of Sari Bair, we were
completely ignorant that our comrades were at that moment landing at
Suvla; all our interest was centred on this one name caught from a
passing Australian. They were passing pretty frequently now, some on
stretchers, and others limping down unattended from the fight at the
head of the gully, but they were not communicative. “Pretty tough up
there,” was as a rule their only response to the volley of queries
that came whenever a man looked strong enough to answer.
The wait lasted all day, varied by shrapnel fire. No doubt the
three battalions were retained there, as the position was central
and covered from view, while if the Turkish counter-attacks on the
recently captured Lone Pine position should be successful, their
services would be badly needed. At 7 p.m., however, General Cooper
was instructed to send a battalion into the Southern section of the
Anzac area, to act as Reserve to the first Australian Brigade. No
attack had been launched from this part of the defences, and it was
feared that the Turks might retaliate for the attack on Sari Bair by
attempting to crush Anzac from the South.
The Connaught Rangers, who were selected for this duty, reached
the position allotted to them at 8.10 p.m. They detached one
company to Brown’s Dip, where they were employed in burying the
Turks and Australians who were killed in the Lone Pine fighting.
The unpleasantness of the task was increased by the fact that the
position was being heavily shelled, and several men were wounded.
On the following day (August 8th) the Connaught Rangers were again
moved, this time to Victoria Gully, about three-quarters of a mile
nearer Anzac Cove. The detached company at Brown’s Dip was relieved
by another from the same battalion, which carried on the duty of
burial party, and also sustained a number of casualties. The rest of
the battalion remained in reserve at Victoria Gully throughout the
9th of August in dug-outs, which had been hastily constructed, and
which they did much to improve.
By this time the Battalion were becoming something of connoisseurs
in the qualities of dug-outs. Dug-outs are of two kinds, those you
dig for yourself and those you dig for somebody else. In the former
case, you collect as many sandbags, pieces of corrugated iron, pit
props, and other miscellaneous building materials as your ingenuity
or your dishonesty can achieve, and then proceed to dig yourself an
eligible residence. The depth dug is usually in inverse proportion to
rank: the higher, the deeper, though to go too deep was considered
to exhibit a somewhat excessive desire to be safe at all costs. The
Australians had a story of an officer whom they did not like, and on
whose courage they (probably unjustly) reflected. They declare that
he was severely wounded, as the rope broke while he was being lowered
into the dug-out, and he fell the remaining eighteen feet.
The dug-out that is dug for another is not so elaborate. You burrow
into the vertical face of the hill until a cavity large enough to
contain a man is created, and leave it for the occupant to make the
best of. Before he has learnt to do this, he has probably bumped
his head several times and filled his hair with earth. At the same
time, however small it may be, it is unwise to forsake the burrow
constructed for you by the experienced inhabitant and strike out a
line for yourself. Two officers who attempted to do this were quickly
disillusioned. Their first effort installed them in a cemetery,
where a corpse was awaiting burial. Their second reopened a recently
filled-in latrine, while the third found them in the midst of buried
Turks. Then they gave it up.
It is now necessary to return to the doings of the 6th Leinster
Regiment, and since this battalion was detached from the 29th Brigade
throughout the battle of Sari Bair, it will be simpler to give an
account of all its actions in this chapter. Though it played a
distinguished part in the fight, yet its deeds were performed in a
separate theatre and can be understood without a detailed description
of the operations elsewhere. At about 3 a.m. on August 7th, the
Leinsters were detached from the 29th Brigade and allotted to the
1st Australian Division in order to act as General Reserve for the
Northern sector of the old Anzac Defences.
In framing his plans, Lieut.-General Sir William Birdwood was
compelled to take into account the possibility that instead of
concentrating their forces at Suvla or on Sari Bair, the enemy might
decide to make a desperate attack on Anzac, in the hope of breaking
through there and cutting the columns operating on Sari Bair off from
the sea. It would, no doubt, have been possible for us to obtain
supplies and ammunition from Suvla once the landing there had been
effected, but the organisation of new lines of communication must
inevitably have taken time, and the position of the force would have
been a critical one. Two battalions from the General Reserve were,
therefore, placed at the disposal of the 1st Australian Division, and
of these the 6th Leinsters was one.
The dispositions adopted were as follows: “B” Company, under Major
Stannus, went to Courtney’s Ridge, and “C” Company, under Major
Colquhoun, to Quinn’s Post. The other two companies and Battalion
Headquarters remained at the end of Shrapnel Gully. This disposition
was adhered to throughout the 7th and 8th, the detached companies
earning the praise of the Australians to whom they were attached by
the keenness and alacrity with which they carried out the duties that
fell to their lot. Naturally, like everyone else in the Anzac area,
they suffered from shrapnel and snipers, but the casualties during
this period were not heavy.
At sunset on the 8th, the detached companies were withdrawn to
Battalion Headquarters, and the whole unit was warned to hold itself
in readiness to move at five minutes’ notice. By this time it was
clear to the Higher Command that little danger was to be apprehended
from Turkish attacks on Anzac, while the struggle for the Sari Bair
ridge was still in a doubtful state, and the presence of a fresh
battalion might make the difference between victory and defeat.
Accordingly the men of the Leinsters lay down formed in close column
of platoons, girt with all their accoutrements and tried to slumber.
Sleep does not come easily when one is wearing full equipment and
another man’s boots are within an inch of one’s face, while an
increasing bombardment rages all round; but at Anzac men were tired
enough to welcome any possibility of rest. During the night they
were not disturbed by fresh orders, and at dawn there was sufficient
time to cook tea and refill water-bottles. At 8 a.m. on the 9th,
the battalion marched off making its way northward in single file
until Number 1 Post was reached. Here there was a halt and a long
wait, during which the battalion crowded up behind such shelter as
was afforded by a small knoll. Water-bottles were again replenished,
and the provident forethought of Colonel Craske procured a number of
petrol tins filled with water, which were carried by the battalion
as a reserve. After a midday meal of bully and biscuit had been
eaten, the battalion received orders to proceed to the relief of the
New Zealand battalions holding Rhododendron Spur. This ridge, which
was an outcrop of the main Sari Bair range, had been seized by the
New Zealanders at dawn on the 7th, and was still held by them.
On the way there, the Leinsters met with an experience similar to
that endured by the 31st Brigade at Suvla on the morning of the 7th,
for in order to reach the gully leading where they wanted to go,
they were compelled to traverse 400 yards of open country, which was
exposed to heavy hostile fire. Not only were snipers hidden in the
scrub on the hillsides doing their worst, but the space was also
covered by a machine-gun high on the slopes of the Chunuk Bair, and
shrapnel was continually bursting over it.
Little spurts of dust continually rising where the bullets had struck
made the prospect of crossing this area an unattractive one, but
the Leinsters doubled briskly across, half a platoon at a time, and
luckily did not incur severe losses. They then entered a gully which
was not much safer than the open space, as every corner was under
machine-gun fire, and during half the time the men were bending
double to avoid observation, and during the other half racing
forward to avoid its consequences. Somewhat exhausted by this, and by
the great heat, the Leinsters reached the foot of Rhododendron Ridge
at three in the afternoon.
Here they remained till dusk in order to carry out the relief after
dark; but while they waited the enemy’s shrapnel again found them out
and one officer and several men were killed. At nightfall, “A” and
“D” Companies relieved the New Zealanders, the two others remaining
behind the crest in support. The ridge was joined to the main chain
of the Chunuk Bair ridge by a col, and in front of this the shallow
trenches, which marked the furthest point gained by our advance, had
been dug. They were not deep and had not been well sited, but at any
rate they served to indicate the line to be held. On the right of the
Leinsters the 8th Royal Welsh Fusiliers held a line extending back
to the old Anzac position; while on the left, the 6th Loyal North
Lancashire Regiment were in possession of the crest of the Chunuk
itself.
Throughout the night the Turkish artillery kept up a continual fire,
and at daybreak their counter-attack was launched. The general
course of these operations will be described in greater detail in
the following chapter. For the present, it suffices to say that a
Turkish force, estimated at more than a division, came rolling over
the crest of the Chunuk Bair against the three battalions holding
it. The main force of the attack fell on the Loyal North Lancashires,
and to use Sir Ian Hamilton’s words, “overwhelmed them by sheer
force of numbers.” On their left, three companies of the Wiltshires
who had only just arrived on the hill were caught in the open and
annihilated. But on the right the Leinsters stood their ground. At
last the moment had arrived to which they had so anxiously looked
forward. Turk and Irishman, face to face, and hand to hand, could try
which was the better man. Modern warfare is so much a struggle of
moles, of burrowing and creeping and hiding that it is with a thrill
of joy that the soldier looks on the face of his enemy at close
quarters. In spite of the odds, the two companies in the front line
succeeded in checking the attack, and at the crucial moment they were
reinforced by “B” and “C” Companies from the support line. It is said
that the alarm was given to the latter by a New Zealander, who ran
down the hill shouting, “Fix your bayonets, boys, they’re coming!”
and that on hearing this the men seized their weapons and rushed up
the hill without waiting to put on their putties or jackets. It is
certain that Colonel Craske led them into action with a cheer, and
that their arrival was most timely. Shouting, they flung themselves
into the fray, and drove the Turks back after a desperate struggle at
close quarters.
It was impossible that such success could be gained without loss,
but the Leinsters were fortunate in escaping more lightly than the
English regiments on their left. They had, however, three subalterns
killed and several officers wounded in this fight, among them Colonel
Craske himself, who received a bullet wound in the arm. He was a
gallant soldier, who had won the D.S.O. in South Africa, and his
men long remembered the way in which he had led his battalion into
action. He carried on for a time, but the wound proved serious, and
he was obliged to hand over his command to Major R. G. T. Currey.
Another officer of the Leinsters who was wounded in this action was
Captain J. C. Parke, who was also hit in the arm. Before the War he
was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, lawn tennis players
in the British Isles, and had represented the United Kingdom in the
Davis Cup. Now, though the injury he had received threatened to
incapacitate him for his favourite game, he took misfortune with the
same smiling composure with which he had been wont to confront all
the chances of life.
But while the Leinsters were collecting and bandaging their
wounds, on their left the soil was carpeted with dead. The main
Turkish attack, after overwhelming the Wiltshires and Loyal North
Lancashires, had pressed onward to try and drive the British off
Rhododendron Ridge. As they came over the ridge they were full in
view of our fleet, and every gun in the ships as well as the bulk of
the artillery at Anzac was turned on to them. They fell by thousands,
and as the few survivors struggled on, they were met with the fire of
a concentrated battery of New Zealand machine-guns. Line after line
fell, and those who had the good fortune to escape hastened to place
themselves in safety on the further side of the ridge.
The western slope of the Chunuk became No Man’s Land, and
Rhododendron Ridge remained in our hands, but the price that both
sides had paid was terrible. In a land of dry bushes and stunted oak
and holly like Gallipoli, the great shrubs that give the ridge its
name must in Spring present a feast of beauty to the eye, but they
stand in the midst of a cemetery, and are but the adornments of the
grave. Around them Turk and Briton and Anzac lie side by side in
glorious fellowship, in a graveyard bought at a great price and made
lovely to the eye by the bounty of Nature. To the soul, the spot is
made holy by the memory of what passed there and of the courage and
self-sacrifice of those who lie under its sod.
The fact that we had been driven off the Chunuk made a modification
of the line necessary in order to join up with the position on
Rhododendron Ridge, which now marked the boundary of our gains. The
Leinsters rested for a little and began to dig in on the new line in
the afternoon. The work proved difficult, since whenever the working
parties showed themselves the enemy opened with shrapnel, and in
consequence as long as daylight lasted very little headway was made.
After dark, however, a fresh attempt was begun and “B” and “C”
Companies of the Leinsters were sent out to dig themselves in. The
men had had practically no sleep since the uneasy slumber snatched
on the night of the 8th, and had fought a stiff action in the
morning, but they worked with a will. Progress was, however, slow,
as under cover of darkness the Turks were creeping forward, and soon
every bush contained a sniper. For a while work went on by fits and
starts, advantage being taken of every lull to make headway with the
trench until heavier firing compelled the working parties to take
cover. At the end of two hours the hindrance to the work was found
to be greater than could be borne. It seemed not unlikely that the
annoyance was caused by a comparatively small number of snipers, so
No. 9 Platoon was sent out in front of the line to drive them away,
and then act as a covering party. The officer commanding this platoon
(Lieutenant Barnwell) soon discovered, however, that the Turks had
advanced in considerable force, and that his men were outnumbered.
A grim struggle was waged in the darkness, and when the platoon at
last extricated itself it left nearly half its strength killed and
wounded behind it.
Work on the trench now became quite out of the question, and the
Leinsters had to fight hard to hold their ground against the repeated
attacks of the enemy. At last matters looked menacing and “A” and
“D” Companies who had been in support were called up into the firing
line. In this fighting Major Stannus who commanded “B” Company,
was wounded. It was stern work, for the night was pitch dark and
the tired men could see but little except the flash of the hostile
rifles. Again and again a wave of shadowy figures pressed forward in
close ranks only to be driven back by rifle fire at close range and
bayonet charges.
At last, as the sky grew pale with the dawn, the Turks massed for a
final effort. They came on with determination, and the Leinsters,
knowing that there was hardly another formed unit available as
reserve in the Anzac area, resolved to meet the attack with a
counter-charge. With a ringing yell the line of grey bayonets surged
forward against the foe, to prove once again that to attack is not
only the best defensive policy but is that best suited to the Irish
temperament. The Turks faltered as the charge swept against them, and
the Leinsters were at last able to take their revenge for the losses
of the night. Fatigue and thirst were forgotten and men after much
suffering exulted in the taste of victory at last. The pursuit became
almost too eager. At one point Captain D’Arcy-Irvine and Lieutenant
Willington at the head of “D” Company pressed after the enemy so
hotly that they were cut off and have never been heard of again.
Probably they were surrounded and killed, and their bones still lie
with those of many another brave fellow on the slopes of the Chunuk
Bair.
All ranks acquitted themselves well in this charge, but the courage
displayed by Captain Lyster who commanded “A” Company was so
conspicuous as to earn for him the Military Cross. Rewards of this
kind were not very freely bestowed in Gallipoli, and to have gained
one in a battalion like the Leinsters, which never failed to hold the
position allotted to it, was an indication that the officer who won
it was a man of exceptional distinction. In addition to this honour,
Colonel Craske received a C.M.G., while the whole battalion were
thanked by General Godley for the good service done on this occasion.
The charge achieved its object, since the spirit of the Turks was
temporarily broken and their snipers were driven back. As a result
the battalion spent a quiet day on the 11th. The arrangements for
supplying water initiated by Colonel Craske had worked well on the
whole, and though the men were often thirsty like everyone else
in the Peninsula, they did not suffer so much from thirst as some
other units. The petrol tins proved of great assistance, as they
enabled a reservoir to be formed for each company or platoon which
could be easily controlled. When the whole water supply of the unit
is contained in the water-bottles of individual soldiers it becomes
impossible for officers and N.C.O.’s to check the improvident use of
it, and so in times of dearth a central reservoir becomes a necessity.
On the evening of the 11th, the Leinsters were relieved and marched
back in the direction of the beach. They had well earned a rest,
since they had been fighting hard for thirty-six hours and had been
going for two days without sleep. They had, however, acquitted
themselves well and were in good spirits.
CHAPTER IV
SARI BAIR
“So desperate a battle cannot be described. The Turks came on again
and again, fighting magnificently, calling upon the name of God.
Our men stood to it, and maintained, by many a deed of daring, the
old traditions of their race. There was no flinching. They died in
the ranks where they stood.”—_General Sir Ian Hamilton._
In order to follow the details of the battle of Sari Bair, it is
necessary to understand something of the configuration of the country
north-east of Anzac. At Lone Pine and Quinn’s Post the Australians
had gained a footing on the southern extremity of the Sari Bair
range. Thence it ran, increasing in height as it got further from
the sea, for about five miles to the north-east, forming the main
watershed of the Gallipoli Peninsula. From its sides started the
gullies known as Deres, which were of paramount importance in the
course of the fighting. In Spring they were foaming torrents, but in
August they were bone-dry and formed the only paths in the wilderness
by which it was possible to gain the foot of Sari Bair. The country
on each side of them was covered by impassable scrub intersected
by invisible precipices, but the sandy beds of the Deres afforded
smooth, if not easy going. In places they ran through deep ravines
but, for the most part, their banks were from four to six feet high
and lined with prickly scrub and an occasional barren olive tree.
They would have been invaluable as roads, had it not been for the
fact that long stretches of them were under constant fire from the
Turkish machine-guns on Sari Bair, and could therefore only be safely
used at night.
The principal gullies beginning from the North were Asmak Dere, Aghyl
Dere, Chailak Dere and Sazli Beit Dere. The last of these ran down
to what, on the 6th of August, was the Northern extremity of the
Anzac position. Between it and Chailak Dere, a spur left the main
ridge of Sari Bair and ran down towards the sea: after it came into
Christian hands, this spur was christened Rhododendron Ridge and
played an important part in the August fighting. The portion of the
Sari Bair range, which was joined by Rhododendron Ridge, was known
as the Chunuk Bair and here the battle was to rage most fiercely. It
culminated to the northward in a summit called Hill Q., and thence
the range trended eastward to Koja Chemen Tepe, the culminating
height of the position and the objective of the Suvla force. Half-way
down the slope of the Chunuk Bair facing the Gulf of Saros, was a
patch of cultivation known as The Farm. The whole of the seaward
face of the Chunuk Bair was covered with prickly scrub about four
feet high and cut by narrow ravines running down to the Aghyl Dere
which starts just below The Farm.
On the night of August 6th General Godley had launched his attack
northward from Anzac. By 1.30 a.m. on the 7th the mouths of the
Chailak Dere and Aghyl Dere had been seized and a strong lodgment
made on Damakjelik Bair, a detached hill between the Asmak and Aghyl
Deres. This lodgment protected the left flank of the assault on the
Chunuk Bair which was then launched.
By dawn the left assaulting column had forced its way up the Aghyl
Dere, and the Indian Infantry Brigade had occupied The Farm, while
on the extreme left the 4th Australian Brigade had reached the Asmak
Dere, and were advancing towards Koja Chemen Tepe. The advance of the
New Zealanders up the Chailak Dere had been slower, but soon after 6
a.m. they had stormed the Turkish trenches on Rhododendron Ridge, and
established themselves at the point where that ridge joins the Chunuk
Bair. At the same time they got into touch with the Indian Brigade on
their left. Preparations were made for an assault on the main Chunuk
Ridge, but the troops were terribly exhausted by their night marches
in an impossible country, and the arrival of Turkish reinforcements
made further advance by daylight impossible. It was decided to allow
the troops to rest, and attack again just before dawn on the 8th.
For this attack the New Zealanders, Australians and Indians who
had taken part in the first day’s fighting were reinforced by six
battalions of the 13th Division. On the right the assault from
Rhododendron Ridge on the Chunuk Bair was successful, and a firm
footing on the crest was gained; but the centre attack was unable to
advance much further than The Farm, and the attempt on Koja Chemen
Tepe was unsuccessful. The General resolved to attack again under
cover of darkness, and called up the two battalions of the 29th
Brigade, which had not already been allotted any duty, to take part
in it.
The Hampshires and Royal Irish Rifles had moved at 1 a.m. on the 8th
from their bivouacs in Shrapnel Gully, to Rest Gully. This gully was
situated near the southern end of the great sap which ran northward
from Anzac Beach towards what was known as No. 2 Post. The cove of
Anzac itself, between the headlands of Hell Spit and Ari Burnu,
though often swept by Turkish fire, was concealed from the enemy’s
view by overhanging cliffs. To the northward, however, the beach
was commanded throughout its length by the heights of the Chunuk
Bair, and men moved on it by daylight at their peril. In order to
facilitate movement by day, Australians and New Zealanders working
by night had dug a sap wide and deep enough to hold a mule, which ran
northward parallel with the sea for nearly a mile. This had acquired
the name of “_The Anzac Sap_.”
About 10 a.m. on the 8th, the Hampshires and Rifles fell in, and
followed Brigade Headquarters along this sap in single file, until
they reached its northern end at No. 2 Post. At this point General
Godley had established his headquarters, and here the two battalions
collected and waited for the greater part of the day. Late in the
afternoon they again moved northwards, and entered the area which had
just been won from the enemy. Here they came under fire from hostile
snipers, but worse was to come. They had been ordered to move up the
Chailak Dere, but the Turks were well aware that this was one of the
few paths by which reinforcements could approach the Chunuk Bair, and
were shelling its entrance persistently.
In small parties the men dashed through the barrage, and in most
cases got off without heavy losses. Lieutenant Graham Martyr’s
platoon of the Irish Rifles, however, was unlucky, and was almost
annihilated. Having passed this dangerous spot, the whole long
procession moved on in Indian file up the deep bed of the Dere.
Progress was slow, since the gully was half choked already with
supplies and reinforcements going up to the hills, as well as with
the wounded coming down. As dusk fell the two battalions bivouacked
on the slopes leading down to the Gully. They did not however have
much time for rest, since at 9.15 p.m. they were aroused to take
part in the assault on the Chunuk Bair. For this, three columns were
being organized, the Rifles and Hampshires being allotted to the
centre column, which was under the command of Brigadier-General A.
H. Baldwin, who had previously commanded the 38th Brigade. Besides
the two 10th Division battalions, General Baldwin had also the 6th
East Lancashires and 5th Wiltshires, which belonged to the 13th
Division. The column which was to move on the right of the centre
column was commanded by Major-General F. E. Johnston, and consisted
for the most part of New Zealanders. It was intended to operate
from and extend the territory already gained on the Chunuk Bair. To
the left a column under Major-General H. V. Cox, consisting of the
4th Australian Brigade, the Indian Brigade, and four battalions of
the 13th Division, was to attack Hill Q. at the northern end of the
Chunuk Bair.
General Baldwin’s column was entrusted with the task of moving up
the Chailak Dere and attacking Hill Q. from the south-west, with its
flanks protected by the columns on the right and left. The intention
of the Commander-in-Chief had been that this centre column should
start from the Chailak Dere and deploy behind the line already
occupied by the New Zealanders, moving thence at dawn along the crest
of the Chunuk Bair to assault Hill Q. Unfortunately, however, this
complicated manœuvre miscarried, as the guides allotted to the column
missed their way, with the result that the troops, after alternately
marching and halting all through the night, found themselves at
dawn on the 9th in the Aghyl Dere at the foot of the Chunuk. The
column on the left had been more fortunate, and its head succeeded
in reaching its objective, occupying the col which connects Hill
Q. with the Chunuk Bair. Hardly however had the Ghurkas and South
Lancashires gazed on the town of Maidos and the Dardanelles crowded
with transports bringing up reinforcements for the enemy, when they
were shelled off the position, which was promptly re-occupied by the
Turks.
Meanwhile General Baldwin’s column was closing up and getting into
formation for the attack. The men went forward with splendid spirit,
but the task they were called on to perform was beyond human power.
Not only did the enemy’s shrapnel fire redouble its force, but the
whole of the left flank was enfiladed by hostile machine-guns, which
almost wiped out the East Lancashires. In this advance many of the
officers of the Rifles were wounded. To climb the Chunuk in broad
daylight in the face of an enemy well supplied with machine-guns and
possessing observation posts from which he could direct the fire of
his still unsubdued artillery, was a harder feat than the storming
of the breach of a hostile fortress in the Napoleonic wars, since
the distance to be covered was so long and so rugged, that it was
impossible to maintain the impetus of the charge. An attempt to find
easier ground to the left failed, and so the Rifles and Hampshires
took up their position behind the crest of a small under-feature
which jutted out some three hundred yards from The Farm.
General Baldwin was accompanied to this position by General Cooper
and the staff of the 29th Brigade, who, since the whole Brigade had
been allotted piecemeal to different Commanders, came up to assist
in passing orders. At 9 a.m. a company and a half of the Hampshires
under Major Pilleau were ordered to move up the slope to the right
and try to get in touch with the New Zealanders of General Johnston’s
column. While doing so they came under heavy shrapnel fire, but
succeeded in working their way up to that part of the ridge which was
in the hands of the New Zealanders.
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL R. J. COOPER, C.V.O., C. B.
COMMANDING 29TH BRIGADE]
The position thus gained was maintained throughout the 9th, the
Hampshires holding a line down the seaward slopes of the Chunuk
Bair, and then turning almost at right angles towards the north-east
along the crest of the under-feature above The Farm. The Rifles
prolonged this line on the left to a point where it was taken
over by the two battalions of the 38th Brigade. This left flank
was somewhat in the air, as the flank-guard on the Damakjelik Bair
was more than a mile in rear of the line. The only protection to
this flank was that afforded by the Left Column under General Cox,
which had succeeded in occupying Hill Q. at dawn and had been driven
off it. These had now withdrawn to the line of the Asmak Dere, but
they were terribly exhausted. The Australians and Indians had been
marching and fighting in a tropical climate for forty-eight hours
without relief, while the New Army battalions had lost heavily,
especially in officers.
Throughout that day Baldwin’s column lay out on the face of the
Chunuk Bair. Pinned to their positions by the Turkish shrapnel
which hailed on them without respite, they suffered terribly from
the scorching rays of the sun. Shade there was none, for the scrub
was so prickly that it was impossible to crawl underneath it, while
nothing short of direct cover afforded any protection from the sun
vertically overhead. Water was terribly scarce; although wells had
been discovered in the bed of the Aghyl Dere, it was a task of great
difficulty to convey the water up to the troops, since part of the
Aghyl Dere was swept by the enemy’s fire. The torments of thirst were
increased by the fact that the only food available for the men was
salt bully beef and hard dry biscuit. It was an effort to swallow
more than a few mouthfuls, and to the weakness caused by enteritis
was added the weakness of inanition.
The casualties did not appear heavy, but they steadily mounted up,
and in the course of the day each of the 29th Brigade battalions lost
about a fifth of its strength. Night brought relief from the sun,
but no rest, for the battalions were ordered to entrench themselves
where they stood. The exhausted men were incapable of heavy labour,
but a narrow shallow trench was gradually excavated. Night too gave
an opportunity to send the wounded away, for after hasty dressing had
been applied by battalion medical officers they had, of necessity,
been obliged to await a convenient occasion for their removal. The
nearest hospital was four miles away on the shore at Anzac, and a
terrible burden thus fell on the stretcher-bearers, who had to carry
their comrades all this distance. Every man who could limp or hobble
down to the beach, walked, but the serious cases were numerous, and
the battalion establishment of stretcher-bearers (which had not been
fixed with such an abnormal campaign in view) found itself severely
taxed. During the night the New Zealand Brigade on the right of the
Hampshires, was withdrawn and relieved by part of the Wiltshires and
Loyal North Lancashires, and also by the 6th Leinsters.
Dawn came, and with it the Turkish counter-attack. Throughout the
night their artillery had thundered unceasingly, but before daybreak
it redoubled in violence. As the light grew, an enormous mass of
the enemy threw itself against the battalions holding the lodgment
effected by the New Zealanders on the crest of the Chunuk Bair,
while further hordes moving down from the north and Hill Q. attacked
Baldwin’s column at The Farm. The two battalions on the crest were
almost annihilated, and the ground they held was lost. Fortunately,
however, as was described in the last chapter, the momentum of the
attack was checked by our artillery.
The Turks moving down the crest of the Chunuk were in full view of
the fleet, and the fire brought to bear on them was so terrific
that their reinforcements were unable to penetrate the barrage.
They pressed on against Rhododendron Ridge, but were stopped by the
concentrated fire of ten New Zealand machine-guns which were placed
in position by a famous Hythe musketry expert. But although for the
time the danger was lessened and the Turkish losses were enormous,
yet the fact that the two battalions holding the Ridge of the
Chunuk had been driven back, left the right flank of the Hampshires
dangerously exposed. Although its losses were very heavy, this
company and a half which had been sent out to maintain connection
with the ridge succeeded in holding its ground.
The remainder of the Hampshires were now up in the firing line on the
right of The Farm position, but were losing very heavily. Colonel
Bewsher who commanded them had been seriously wounded in the head
about 6 a.m., and was resting before making his way down to the beach
when a wounded sergeant-major informed him that there appeared to be
no officers left unhurt. He, therefore, wounded as he was, returned
to the firing line, and discovered that although there were still
two captains with the detached company and a half, the remainder of
the battalion had not only lost all its officers but all its company
sergeant-majors and quartermaster-sergeants as well. One machine-gun
had been put out of action by a shell, but the men were holding their
ground manfully.
Meanwhile, on the left, the hostile attack developed with even
greater force. Orders had been received to send the 5th Wiltshires
to relieve the New Zealanders on the crest of the Chunuk, but one
company had been retained as its withdrawal would have left part of
the line completely unmanned. A company of the 9th Warwicks had come
up to relieve the Wiltshires, but were found to be very weak. There
were also on the left in addition to the Royal Irish Rifles, about 50
men, all that remained of the East Lancashires, and a few Ghurkas
and Maoris belonging to the left column who had retired down the hill
and joined General Baldwin.
Against these few exhausted men, less than a thousand in all, the
Turks were free to throw the whole of their reserves, since by this
time (dawn, Tuesday) it was clear that the advance from Suvla was not
likely to get much further. They came on again and again, covered
by a very heavy shrapnel fire, and again and again they were driven
back. Our losses, however, were terribly heavy and they could afford
to lose ten men to our one, for our last reserves (except for one
battalion five miles away) were already up in the firing line. Worst
of all were the casualties in officers. The dawn was misty and just
as it began to grow light General Baldwin was killed. Almost at the
same instant General Cooper fell, severely wounded in the lungs.
Colonel Bradford of the Rifles was then the senior officer with the
column, but just as he was informed that the command devolved upon
him, he, too, fell seriously wounded.
In quick succession, Major Morphy, the second-in-command of the
Rifles, received a bad wound in the thigh, and Major Eastwood, their
Adjutant, was killed. Very shortly afterwards Captain McCleverty, the
Brigade-Major, was hit by a bullet which passed through both cheeks
and broke his jaw, while Major Wilford of the Rifles, on whom the
command of his battalion had devolved and who had exhibited great
courage and resource, sustained a severe wound in the head. Colonel
Bewsher of the Hampshires, who had been wounded twice but was able
to stand, then took over the command of all that was left of General
Baldwin’s force. The oft-repeated attacks continued, nearly all
the junior officers were down, and though our thin line was never
actually pierced yet in many places the enemy came so near that they
fought with our men at close quarters. In an effort to repulse a rush
of this kind on the left about 9 a.m. Captain Gerald Nugent, Staff
Captain of the 29th Brigade, fell, revolver in hand, leading his men
forward. His death was a sorrow to the whole brigade, for he was a
man in a thousand. The surliest cynic who cultivated a grievance
against all Staff Officers found himself quite unable to resist
Nugent’s kindness of heart and wonderful charm of manner. The manner
of his death was suited to his bright and unselfish life.
About this time Colonel Bewsher came to the conclusion that the
position was untenable. On the right the enemy had re-occupied the
crest of the Chunuk Bair and were pressing the Hampshires hard, while
on the left General Cox’s column had retired to the Damakjelik Bair
in rear, leaving the Chunuk completely exposed on that flank. There
appeared nothing to prevent the Turks from establishing themselves
in the Aghyl Dere and so cutting the only line of communication. The
casualties, too, had been terrible. Every staff officer on the hill
was either killed or wounded. The Hampshires and Rifles had only four
officers left between them and the English companies were in just as
bad case. The fight had been raging for over four hours, the men were
utterly exhausted, and there was no sign of reinforcements. Colonel
Bewsher, therefore, ordered a retirement which was carried out in a
regular and orderly manner. This little mixed force, drawn from seven
different units, comprising in its number men from Winchester and
Salisbury, Birmingham, Burnley and Otago, Belfast and Khatmandu, had
held a weak position against enormous odds, with little food and less
water, for over 24 hours, and when they retired had hit the enemy so
hard that they were not pursued.
Even then they were not disposed of, for at the bottom of the hill
a staff officer (Captain Street) who was arranging to send up water
and ammunition, called to them to come on again and they responded.
The Hampshires on the right under their last officer, the Rifles in
the centre, and the Wilts and Warwicks on the left, turned their
faces again to the Hill of Death and advanced once more. The effort
was futile for by this time the Turkish line was strengthened by
machine-guns, but it was heroic, a vindication of the power of the
spirit of man to soar above hunger and thirst and the imminent fear
of death, and place itself on a level with that of the heroes.
Both battalions had suffered terribly. The Hampshires, who had
gone into action on the morning of the 9th, with a strength of
approximately twenty officers and over 700 men, had at noon on the
10th one combatant officer (Captain Hellyer) and not more than 200
men fit for duty. A few more who had lost their direction in the
retirement rejoined in the course of the following day. The Rifles
were in nearly as bad a condition. They were commanded by their
junior captain, who had only been promoted to that rank at Mudros,
and two subalterns were all the combatant officers that he had under
him. The men, too, had been driven back in small parties and had been
scattered, and it was clear that neither of the battalions was in a
position to fight again for some days. Fortunately for their personal
well-being, both of their quartermasters had survived the fight.
Lieutenant Dowling of the Rifles had toiled unceasingly in drawing
and attempting to send up rations, water, and above all, ammunition.
The Rifles, too, had obtained devoted service from their doctor,
Lieutenant Adam, R.A.M.C., who had worked like a hero in dealing with
the hundreds of cases that had passed through his hands.
The Hampshires had found their quartermaster a tower of strength.
Not only had Lieutenant Saunders worked magnificently throughout the
fight, but in the difficult days of reorganization, he turned his
hand to anything and acted as Adjutant and Company Commander and
in any other capacity in which he could be of use. In spite of the
misfortunes of his battalion he remained cheerful and imperturbable,
and it was refreshing to look at his beaming, bearded face. In
recognition for the good work he had done he was awarded the Military
Cross. A quartermaster is described as a non-combatant officer, and
his services are not always fully recognized, but in Gallipoli he
was exposed to fully as much danger as anyone else, while the load
of responsibility on his shoulders was far greater. Any negligence
on his part meant that his battalion would go hungry and thirsty and
lack ammunition at a pinch. Soldiers will agree that no man does
more important work and better deserves recognition than a good
quartermaster.
Meanwhile, the last battalion of the brigade was hurrying towards the
scene of action. At 7 a.m. on the morning of the 10th the Connaught
Rangers received orders to prepare to move at once. The detached
company, which had been doing fatigue work at Brown’s Dip all night,
was hastily recalled, and in less than an hour the battalion moved
off. It was necessary for them to take a circuitous route to the
beach for fear that the Turkish observers on Gaba Tepe should notice
that the right of the Anzac position was being weakened. At 9 a.m.
Anzac Cove was reached, and the battalion hurried on northwards. As
it entered the long sap leading to No. 2 Post, it began to realise
the severity of the fighting for the first time, for the sap was full
of wounded.
Most of these wounded, too, belonged to the Leinsters, Hampshires,
and Irish Rifles, and their number made it clear that the brigade had
suffered heavy losses. It was only, however, when checks in the march
allowed an opportunity of speaking to the less seriously injured
that the full extent of the casualties became clear. The officers
of the Rangers heard with growing sorrow that the whole Brigade
Staff were either killed or seriously wounded, and that the Rifles
and Hampshires had practically ceased to exist. They saw carried
past them, with drawn set faces, half masked by dry and clotted
blood, men who had worked and played with them at the Curragh and
Basingstoke, whose wives and children were their friends. Even in
the pale, unwashed, unshaven faces and strained and suffering eyes
of the less seriously wounded who paused to speak to them, they read
the realization of the ordeal that lay before them. Behind all was
the thought of the friends lying up on the slope of the Chunuk Bair,
whose families would never look on them again.
It was an unnerving ordeal for a young regiment, but, fortunately,
there was little time for reflection, and the Rangers hurried on. At
No. 2 Post there was a short halt, while Colonel Jourdain interviewed
General Birdwood and General Godley, who informed him that the Turks
had broken through a section of the line, and that his battalion
was placed under the command of General Cox to help him to retrieve
matters. He was exhorted to move forward as quickly as possible, as
the need for reinforcements was urgent. Accordingly, before the rear
of the battalion had extricated itself from the sap, the head was
in motion again. It must be borne in mind that except for the brief
information which the Colonel had received from General Birdwood,
officers and men alike were completely ignorant of the previous
operations. They knew nothing of the extension of the Anzac position
northward on the night of the 6th, nor of the repeated attacks on the
Chunuk Bair; above all, they were unaware that a landing had taken
place at Suvla. It was, however, clear to them that they were in new
country, for up to No. 2 Post they had moved by well-trodden paths
protected at any point of danger by saps and sandbags. Now they were
in open country, with the sea on their left, and on the right a range
of low foothills, which in places sank sufficiently to enable them
to see the ridge of the Chunuk high above them.
Here and there accoutrements hurriedly cut off a wounded man showed
that Turkish shrapnel and snipers had to be reckoned with, but there
appeared to be a momentary lull in the fighting. Past the mouth of
the Chailak Dere the Rangers hurried in single file sweating under
the pitiless sun past Bauchop’s Hill, and over a low _nek_ into the
Aghyl Dere. Here, again, their progress grew slower, for the gully
was narrow and filled with wounded and mules and resting Ghurkas. It
was stiflingly hot, and the smell of the mules and the dust, shut
in tightly between the high scrub-fringed banks of the gully, were
almost unendurable. The Rangers moved forward for a hundred yards at
a time, until at 11.15 a.m. General Cox’s headquarters were reached.
The halt there was a brief one for the Rangers were at once directed
to place themselves under the orders of Brigadier-General W. de S.
Cayley commanding the 39th Brigade, for the purpose of reinforcing
his line. Below General Cox’s headquarters, the Aghyl Dere forked
into two branches, one coming from the Damakjelik Bair, the other,
the southern branch, from the foot of the Chunuk. Along this southern
branch the Rangers went in single file for about four hundred yards,
passing an extemporized dressing-station crowded with Ghurkas in
slouch hats, and broad, baggy shorts, until they reached a point
where a spur ran down from the Damakjelik Bair and gave a certain
amount of protection against rifle fire from the Chunuk. Here,
General Cayley had established his headquarters in the narrow
protected area; in rear of it were crowded all that remained of three
or four English battalions. Above, the crest was lined by Sikhs. Into
this zone of safety the Rangers hurried, and after forming up, lay
down to rest while their Colonel went to General Cayley for orders.
The General was established in an observatory of boughs, which gave
some shelter from the view of snipers on the Chunuk, and after giving
Colonel Jourdain and the officers who accompanied him a very welcome
cup of tea, he proceeded to explain the situation.
Although General Baldwin’s column had been driven from The Farm
position, yet, apparently, it had not yet been occupied by the Turks.
It was believed that they were greatly exhausted and had been much
discouraged by the heavy losses inflicted on them by our artillery,
and it was considered that it might be possible to re-occupy The Farm
position. Accordingly “A” and “B” Companies of the Connaught Rangers
were ordered to advance up the Aghyl Dere, climb the slopes of the
Chunuk Bair as far as The Farm, and occupy the position which was
reported to have been partly entrenched. The men were much exhausted,
since they had marched about seven miles in the noonday heat without
regular halts.
They were allowed an hour’s rest, and endeavours were made to fill
their water-bottles, but very little water was obtainable, as the
allowance at Anzac had been reduced to a pint a day per man. Extra
ammunition was given out, and sandbags and entrenching tools were
carried by the men. About two in the afternoon, “B” Company, who
were to keep The Farm on their right hand, led off into the scrub on
the left of the gully. “A” Company followed them, and for about two
hundred yards were able to work along the bed of the Dere itself,
crouching under the high bank to avoid the bullets which whistled
overhead.
Although the main body of the enemy had retired behind the main
crest of the Chunuk Bair, yet they had pushed forward snipers and
machine-guns in sufficient numbers to render the advance of the two
companies a decidedly unpleasant proceeding. A sudden turn in the
direction of the gully brought the commander of “A” Company, who was
at the head of his column, face to face with a long bare stretch of
sand running for three hundred yards straight in the direction of the
Chunuk Bair, which was filled with corpses and with the equipment
that showed where a wounded man had fallen. Instinctively, he ran
forward as the bullets began to throw up the sand all round him,
and was followed by his signallers and observers and the men of the
leading section. For about fifty yards they ran on until they reached
a spot where a cross gully, running down from Rhododendron Ridge,
afforded some protection from the pitiless machine-gun fire, but in
that fifty yards half of the dozen men had fallen. Accordingly, the
subaltern of the leading platoon was sent back to warn the remainder
of the company, not to attempt to use the Dere, but to work their way
through the scrub on its right. He ran the gauntlet successfully and
the advance continued slowly.
Unfortunately, it had been impossible to give the men any definite
objective, as from below The Farm was invisible, and many of them
lost their way in the thick undergrowth, but about a platoon and a
half of each company found its way through the bushes fringing the
Aghyl Dere and commenced the ascent of the Chunuk Bair. Once they
began to climb they were comparatively free from the attentions of
the snipers and machine-guns, since the lower slopes of the hill
were dead ground, but the climb itself was almost intolerable. The
ascent was extremely steep, and covered in scrub, in which lurked
enormous boulders. The sun was still tropical, and the men, most of
whom carried picks or shovels, as well as their weapons, were heavily
laden. Often a man was obliged to lay down his rifle to haul himself
up a rock, and found it an almost intolerable burden to have to take
it up again. It was only by halting and resting every ten minutes
that it was possible to make any progress. The officers, who did not
know that they might not find the whole position in the hands of the
Turks, did their utmost to retain in the men a sufficient reserve of
energy to enable them to charge if it proved necessary. As The Farm
came in sight three hundred yards ahead, an irregular extension was
formed on the hillside, and the two companies got into touch again.
“B” on the left, “A” on the right, pressed forward to reach their
objective. It was unoccupied.
Unoccupied by the Turks, indeed, yet there were many relics of the
struggle that had been waged there at dawn. A narrow ditch hardly
a foot deep showed where an attempt had been made to entrench the
position, while scattered round it were sandbags and entrenching
tools, rifles and bandoliers of ammunition in a confusion so
unnatural that it seemed horrible. Normally, such things are
carefully stored and arranged, and even more carefully accounted for,
and to see them thrown broadcast about a bare hillside was desolate
indeed. Among them lay the men who had used them; some groaning for
water, while others, under the influence of the scorching sunshine,
had already begun to give forth the unspeakably foul sweet odour
of corruption that in those August days tainted half the hills and
valleys of Gallipoli. The sight was depressing enough, but at least
the enemy were not there, and the men would be able to rest before
they had to fight.
As the senior officer on the position was congratulating himself on
this, a concealed machine-gun opened on the right about two hundred
yards away. The right flank of “A” Company was in full view of it,
and both Captain Massy, who commanded there, and a subaltern with
him were wounded. Captain Massy, however, remained calm, and after
binding up his comrade’s wounds as neatly as a man with a bullet-hole
through his right arm was able to, he withdrew his men to join the
remainder of the company on the left. These were screened from the
direct view of the hostile machine-gunners by bushes, but the gun was
firing at every sound, which made movement, and still more digging,
impossible. Gradually, however, sandbags were filled, and a traverse
made of them, which protected the men as long as they lay still. A
few picked shots were detailed to fire at intervals into the bushes
where the invisible machine-gun appeared to be, and the knowledge
that they were retaliating encouraged them greatly. Further comfort
was given by the capture of a Turkish sniper, who had been found
lurking in the bushes behind us. None of the men had ever seen a Turk
before, and the general curiosity as to his appearance served to
distract the men’s minds from their immediate prospects.
These, as they presented themselves to the officer who found himself
temporarily in command, were by no means cheerful. The trench which
the men were supposed to hold would require at least six hours’ work
before it would give decent protection from shrapnel. It was also
badly sited and only gave a field of fire of a few yards. The men
available for work on it were few in number and very weary. There
was sufficient food and plenty of ammunition, but water was very
scarce, for those who possessed sufficient self-control to refrain
from drinking during the weary climb, had been unable to resist
the entreaties of the wounded, and had allowed them to empty their
water-bottles.
The only road by which supplies of any kind could be obtained was
the Aghyl Dere, which was swept by the enemy’s fire. In addition,
it was also known that very few reinforcements were obtainable.
Finally, both flanks of the position were “in the air,” the right
being already dominated by a hostile machine-gun, which was placed so
as to enfilade the line. It was clear that if, after dark, the Turks
were to attack, the detachment would be in a hopeless position, and
were bound to be either captured or destroyed. However, orders had
been given that the line was to be held, and there was nothing to be
done but obey them. The men were, therefore, instructed to rest until
darkness made it possible for them to improve their position, and all
ranks lay down and awaited the enemy’s attack.
Before it developed, however, General Cayley sent orders that the
detachment was to withdraw at dusk, bringing with it all the wounded
who were lying on the face of the hill. Major Money, of “B” Company,
who had now taken over the command, at once detailed a party under
Lieutenant Blake to cover the withdrawal, and as it was within an
hour of sunset, began to collect the wounded at once. These for the
most part belonged to the East Lancashire and Wiltshire Regiments,
with a few of the Royal Irish Rifles. They had lain out from dawn to
dusk under the burning rays of the Mediterranean sun without food,
water, or attention, and suffering agonies.
By the time they had been collected, the sun was setting, and the
pilgrimage of pain began. There were no stretchers, nor were even
waterproof sheets available, so that each wounded man had to be
carried by his shoulders and legs. The mountain was pathless, and in
the growing darkness the bearers made many a false step, which must
have caused torture to the sufferers. Some shrieked with pain, others
showered blessings on the heads of the men who were saving them from
an agonizing death by thirst, and in the growing dusk, the load of
misery was slowly carried to the foot of the hill. To the credit of
the Turkish machine-gunners it must be said that they made no attempt
to fire as soon as they perceived that wounded were being removed.
On this, as on other occasions in Gallipoli, we were glad to be able
to respect the chivalry of our foes. An attempt was made to bring
down some of the rifles and equipment that were scattered over the
face of the Chunuk Bair, but there were hardly enough men to carry
them, and some had to be abandoned. It was after 7 p.m. before the
covering party withdrew, being the last British troops to occupy the
Chunuk Bair. Among them was Captain Massy, who, ignoring his wound,
had insisted on remaining till all the wounded had been removed. For
his gallantry on this occasion he was awarded the Military Cross.
It was dark before the Aghyl Dere was reached, and the Rangers were
glad to find that the two remaining companies of their battalion had
been employed in entrenching a line on each side of the gully and
making sandbag traverses on each side of it. All the wounded who had
fallen in the earlier fighting had been dressed and removed. This
was a feat requiring extraordinary courage and endurance on the part
of the battalion stretcher-bearers. They had been obliged to go into
the exposed section of the Agyhl Dere under a storm of bullets, in
order to bring out the wounded, and yet they not only did so, but
often dressed the man’s wounds under fire before they removed him.
Then after the Medical Officer had treated him they had to bear their
heavy burden all the way to the beach, returning only to plunge into
the fire-swept zone again and rescue another comrade.
There were no men in the force who did their duty more strenuously
and fearlessly than the stretcher-bearers of the 5th Connaught
Rangers on the 10th of August, 1915, and officers who had grumbled
at having to allot some of their best and strongest men for
non-combatant duties realized how well it was that they had done
so. Nor must the part played by the medical officer be forgotten.
Lieutenant J. I. O’Sullivan, Royal Army Medical Corps, found himself
confronted by the débris of two brigades, but he rose to the occasion
magnificently. Unpacking his paniers under a bush just behind the
line, he not only worked on till long after dark without a rest, but
remained cheerful and encouraging through it all. Only those who
passed through his hands know what they owe to him.
So at sunset on August 10th ended the Battle of Sari Bair, which had
begun on the night of the 6th. It had been hard fighting, and Mr.
Ashmead Bartlett, the newspaper correspondent, has described it as
the hardest battle in which British soldiers have been engaged since
Inkerman. Those who took part in it, however, prefer to think of
General Godley’s restrained but deeply significant testimony:—
“I do not believe that any troops in the world could have
accomplished more. All ranks vied with one another in the
performance of gallant deeds, and more than worthily upheld the
best traditions of the British Army.”
NOTE.—Since this chapter was written, Brigadier-General Cooper
has been awarded a C.B., and Colonel Bewsher of the Hampshires,
and Major Wilford, Indian Army (attached Royal Irish Rifles) have
received the D.S.O. for their services in this action.
CHAPTER V
SUVLA BAY AND CHOCOLATE HILL
“Death is nothing; but to live vanquished and without
glory is to die every day.”—_Napoleon._
If you sail up the western coast of the Gallipoli Peninsula, soon
after passing Anzac Cove, you will notice that the hills which have
fringed the shore all the way from Cape Helles begin to run further
inland, and that a gradually widening strip of level ground becomes
visible between the cliffs and the sea. The coast line, too, which
has hitherto pointed north and south, turns in a north-westerly
direction, and thus increases the extent of plain until it culminates
at the end of four miles in a cape known as Nibrunesi Point. Two
miles north of Nibrunesi is another promontory called Suvla Point,
and these are the two extremities of a semi-circular bay, which had
no name on the original maps issued to the army, but which was soon
to be well known as Suvla Bay. It is a name which has brought sorrow
to many homes, and which will be perpetually associated with failure,
but there are many glorious memories associated with it.
There are old and historic regiments that think more proudly of
Maiwand and Chillian-wallah than of victories gained with less stern
fighting; and it may well be, that in the future the four Fusilier
regiments from Ireland and the Royal Irish Regiment will be glad to
remember that their service battalions fought at Suvla. A year later,
at Salonica, when the gates of the Supply Depôt were christened after
great battles of the war, the name of Suvla was thought not unworthy
to be associated with those of Ypres and Verdun. Greater glory no man
could ask for, and none of the few survivors of the 10th Division
could pass that gate without a throb of pride.
Suvla was well suited to a landing, since the beach shelved gently
and offered a long slope of sand on which lighters could run ashore.
West of Nibrunesi Point an isolated hill, known as Lala Baba, rose to
a height of a hundred and fifty feet close to the shore, while behind
this was the curious feature known as the Salt Lake. In August, this
was dry and presented a surface of white sticky mud nearly a mile
across gleaming brightly in the sun. North-east of the Salt Lake the
ground rose gently till it culminated in Tekke Tepe, nine hundred
feet high and four miles inland. South of Tekke Tepe and about three
miles east of the Salt Lake, was the village of Anafarta Saghir in
a cultivated valley. South of this again was a lower ridge known
as Scimitar Hill, and then another valley containing the village of
Biyuk Anafarta. South of Biyuk Anafarta the ground rose steeply to
form the main chain of the Sari Bair. Between the two Anafartas and
the Salt Lake was a cultivated plain, studded with little cornfields
and isolated olive trees, but from this plain, nearly two miles
inland, rose two isolated hills, about two hundred feet high, known
as Yilghin Burnu (or Green Hill) and Chocolate Hill.
[Illustration: (map of Suvla Bay area.)]
The landscape was finally framed by a high crest running inland in a
north-easterly direction from Suvla Point, falling steeply in cliffs
to the Gulf of Saros on the north, but presenting a gentler slope
to the southern plain. This ridge reached a height of 400 feet near
the sea and was there called the Karakol Dagh, while further inland,
where it maintained an average height of 600 feet, it was known as
the Kiretch Tepe Sirt. From its crest could be seen the whole of the
plain enclosed by Tekke Tepe, Sari Bair and Damakjelik Bair, on which
the battle was destined to be fought.
[Illustration: SUVLA, SHOWING LALA BABA AND THE SALT LAKE
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
The Commander-in-Chief had planned that the transports conveying the
11th Division from Imbros were to leave as soon as night fell on
the 6th, and effect their landing under cover of darkness. The 10th
Division, having a longer voyage (Mudros being 60 and Mitylene 120
miles away) were intended to reinforce them on the following day.
It was believed that the Turks would be taken by surprise, and that
little or no resistance was to be anticipated. Three landing places
had been arranged for; one known as Beach A in Suvla Bay itself, the
others, Beach B and Beach C, on the shore south of Nibrunesi Point.
The three Brigades of the 11th Division landed simultaneously, and
met with slight resistance from a Turkish picket entrenched on Lala
Baba. The hill was, however, taken with the bayonet, and the whole of
the beaches made good, while the 11th Manchester Regiment drove the
enemy’s outposts on the Karakol Dagh back on to the Kiretch Tepe
Sirt. By the time this much had been gained, day dawned and the first
portion of the 10th Division began to appear on the scene.
This consisted of the 31st Brigade and the two battalions of Royal
Dublin Fusiliers, which had been waiting at Mitylene, the whole force
being under the command of Brigadier-General F. F. Hill. Early in
the afternoon of the 6th, the battalions had left the transports,
on which they had spent nearly a month, and transferred themselves
to trawlers and channel steamers. At sunset they weighed anchor and
steamed northward, all, except a few on board, being completely
ignorant of their destination. The lights on the shore told them that
they had passed Achi Baba, and as they steamed by Anzac, the noise
of battle at Lone Pine and on Sari Bair reached them from afar. Just
as the pale morning light began to make it possible to distinguish
the difference between sea and land, the ships anchored off Nibrunesi
Point.
In the original plan of operations it was designed that the 11th
Division should form the right wing and the 10th the left of the
advance, and with this scheme in view it had been arranged to land
the 10th on Beach A, inside Suvla Bay. The landing at Beach A during
the night had, however, been considerably delayed owing to the fact
that many of the lighters had run aground in the shallow waters of
the bay, and the Naval Authorities had, therefore, decided to land
General Hill’s force on Beach C below Nibrunesi Point. At the same
time, General Hill was directed to reinforce the 11th Division,
placing himself under the orders of Major-General Hammersley, who
commanded that unit.
The process of disembarkation began about 5.30 a.m., the first two
lighters taking to the shore a company of the 6th Inniskillings and a
company of the 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers, as well as General Hill and
his staff.
It was at once clear to all that the Turks had not been completely
taken by surprise. The scrub which covered the slopes of all the
surrounding hills, combined with the scattered olive groves to
make it impossible to detect the numbers of the enemy, but it was
obvious that they were well supplied with artillery. Their shrapnel
was bursting fiercely over the men of the 11th Division as they
moved forward, and as soon as the lighters reached the beaches, an
effective barrage was at once established there. Even the troops
awaiting disembarkation were under fire, and suffered the painful
experience of having to lie down, closely packed together, and unable
to retaliate. The lighters were obvious and easy targets, and in
one boat alone the 7th Dublins lost an officer and seventeen men.
On the whole, however, the force was lucky, and the casualties
on landing were not heavy. Little could be done to keep down the
hostile artillery fire, since the enemy’s guns were well concealed,
and but few of our batteries had landed. Two mountain-guns on Lala
Baba kept up a constant fire, and the warships co-operated, though
lack of facilities for observation rendered their fire comparatively
ineffective.
General Hill reached the landing place two hundred yards south of
Nibrunesi Point about 6.30 a.m. Leaving orders for units as they
landed to rendezvous on the seaward side of Lala Baba, he went in
search of General Hammersley in order to ascertain his wishes. At
this time the Turkish detachments, which had been watching the
beaches, were retiring slowly across the wooded plain which stretches
between the Salt Lake and Anafarta Saghir, pursued by the 11th
Division. This pursuit, however, was considerably impeded by the fact
that two small eminences, each about a hundred-and-sixty feet high,
about half-a-mile from the south-eastern corner of the Salt Lake,
were still in the enemy’s hands. These positions were afterwards
known as Chocolate Hill and Green Hill respectively, the Turkish name
for the range being Yilghin Burnu. As long as the Turks held these
knolls, they were in a position to bring enfilade artillery fire
to bear on the advance across the Anafarta plain; and accordingly
General Hill was directed to co-operate with two battalions of
the 11th Division in their capture. This order had unfortunately
the result of making any future junction with the portion of the
Division under Sir Bryan Mahon’s command impossible, since that was
directed to guard the left flank of the advance, while General Hill’s
force was to move to the extreme right. Owing to this detachment of
a Brigade and a half, the work of the Staff tended to become more
difficult.
By the time that General Hill rejoined his force with these orders,
he found that the 6th Inniskillings and 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers
had reached the rendezvous under Lala Baba. Two companies of the
7th Dublins under Major Lonsdale, the second-in-command, had also
arrived there, and the remainder of the battalion, followed by the
6th Dublins and 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, were coming up. The latter
unit had been put ashore some way down the beach, and had had to
march a considerable distance in order to reach Lala Baba.
The process of disembarkation and assembly had naturally taken a
considerable time, and it was not till close on noon that the advance
began. In order to reach the northern shores of the Salt Lake, and
get in touch with the 11th Division, the units of General Hill’s
force had to pass over a narrow neck of land between the Salt Lake
and the sea, on which the hostile artillery had carefully registered.
Every minute it was swept by bursts of shrapnel, and the only way
in which it crossed was by a section at a time rushing over it and
trusting to luck. It was a trying ordeal for young troops engaged in
their first action, but they faced it cheerfully. The 7th Dublins in
particular were much encouraged by the example of their Colonel. As
an old soldier, he knew that there were times when an officer must
be prepared to run what would otherwise appear unnecessary risks; so
while everyone else was dashing swiftly across the neck, or keeping
close under cover, it is recorded that Colonel Downing—a man of
unusual height and girth—stood in the centre of the bullet-swept
zone, quietly twirling his stick. The sight of his fearlessness must
have been an inspiration to his men.
As soon as each battalion had crossed the neck, it formed up on the
low ground north of the Salt Lake, under the slight amount of cover
afforded by a low eminence known as Hill 10. When all had got across,
the advance eastward began. The crossing of the neck had occupied
a good deal of time, and it was close on 3 p.m. For more than four
hours the sun had been directly overhead, a blinding glare was
reflected from the shining surface of the Salt Lake, and the heat
was almost overpowering. Few of the men had slept during the night,
since excitement and the discomfort caused by their closely-packed
quarters on board the fleet sweepers had combined to keep them
awake. Except for a cup of tea about 3 a.m., and a mouthful hastily
swallowed before moving off, they were fasting, and already many of
the more improvident had emptied their water-bottles. In addition,
these young soldiers who had never seen war before, had been since
four in the morning exposed to shrapnel fire, with but little chance
either of taking cover or of retaliating. They had seen their
comrades fall stricken at their sides without the consolation of
knowing that the enemy was suffering to an equal extent. However, the
prospect of action was encouraging, and it was with confident faces
that they turned towards the foe. Their one desire was to come to
close quarters with the enemy on their immediate front, but he was
invisible.
From the low ground across which they were moving little could be
seen but the masses of scrub backed by the semi-circle of hills, and
only broken by the minarets of Anafarta. The three leading battalions
(6th Inniskilling Fusiliers, 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers and 7th
Dublins) crossed the dry bed of the Asmak Dere, and began to turn
southward towards Chocolate Hill. Up to this point the left flank of
the movement had been protected by the troops of the 11th Division,
who were advancing in the direction of Anafarta, but every yard
gained to the southward tended to throw this flank more and more into
the air. Though invisible, the enemy was making his presence felt.
Round white balls of shrapnel were continually forming overhead, and
out of the dense bushes rifle bullets came whizzing past the men’s
heads. Now and then a Turkish sniper was caught, sometimes festooned
in boughs to enable him to escape notice; but the casualties caused
by snipers were not so serious on the first day as they became later.
The heaviest losses were caused by the artillery, for near the sea
the scrub was thinner, and the long lines of men slowly advancing
were plainly visible to the enemy’s observers on the surrounding
hills. Occasionally too, a Taube buzzed overhead, making its
observations with comparative impunity, since except on the ships,
there were no anti-aircraft guns.
Still the men pressed on, driving the Turks through the scrub before
them. It was unpleasant work, particularly for officers, since little
or nothing was known, either of the country or of the strength of
dispositions of the enemy, and at any moment a platoon might have
found itself confronted by a heavy counter-attack launched from the
depths of the scrub, or enfiladed by hidden machine guns. Also, it
proved a good deal harder to keep in touch with other units than it
had in training days at the Curragh or in the Phœnix Park. The danger
of pushing on too fast and finding oneself isolated was no imaginary
one, but was alarmingly illustrated by the disaster which befell
the 1st/5th Norfolks four days later. Nor did the tropical heat,
which wore out and exhausted the men, help to quicken the movement.
All these considerations combined with the pressure exercised by the
enemy on the left flank of the Royal Irish Fusiliers tended to make
the advance slow.
The dispositions of the force for the attack were as follows:—
On the right “A” and “B” Companies of the 6th Royal Inniskilling
Fusiliers were in the firing line, supported by “C” and “D” Companies
of the same unit; and by the 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers who had been
brought up from the reserve. The 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers were
on the left, having “A” and “B” Companies in the firing line and
“C” and “D” in support. Owing to the fact that the left flank was
exposed, this battalion was gradually being compelled to face in
a south-easterly direction, with the result that a gap began to
appear between it and the 6th Inniskillings. This gap was filled by
“A” Company of the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, closely supported
by “D” Company (“The Pals”) of the same unit. The 6th Royal Dublin
Fusiliers, who had been the last to come ashore, were still in
reserve, and the 5th Inniskillings had not yet landed.
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL F. F. HILL, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.
COMMANDING 31ST BRIGADE]
Steadfastly the Fusiliers went forward, moving on a line parallel
to that which they had taken in the morning, but in the opposite
direction. As they passed the Salt Lake, the Inniskillings, who were
on exposed ground, suffered severely, as many of the men stuck in the
swamp. Land-mines, too, which exploded on contact, were encountered
and caused losses, while the shrapnel burst overhead unceasingly.
Nothing, however, could have been more encouraging to the men than
the demeanour of their leader. Wherever the danger was greatest
General Hill was to be found, calm and collected, trying to save the
men as much as possible. His fearlessness, his complete disregard of
personal danger, set an inspiring example, and officers and men alike
went forward more cheerfully, thanks to the lead given them by their
General.
As the advance continued high explosive shells were mingled with the
shrapnel, and though they did not claim so many victims, they were
infinitely more trying to the strained nerves of the weary men in
the ranks. By 5 p.m. they had come within 300 yards of the hill, and
were under a heavy rifle fire. By this time the men were very weary.
They had had a long voyage of 120 miles under most uncomfortable
conditions, they had been under unceasing artillery fire for more
than twelve hours, they had marched more than five miles burdened
by rifle and ammunition through the noon of a tropical day, and it
was no wonder that they were exhausted. Chocolate Hill, too, was a
formidable proposition: though only a hundred and sixty feet high,
it rose steeply from the plain, and it was now obvious that it had
been carefully prepared as a defensive position, for its sides
were seamed by trenches. Though it was impossible to ascertain how
strongly those trenches were held, yet it was clearly imperative that
the men should have a rest before making the assault.
While the fleet and the batteries that had now been landed bombarded
the position, the men of General Hill’s force lay down in their ranks
on the sun-baked ground, firing a shot from time to time, but with
abundant leisure to look about them. On their right they could see
the white houses and tiled roofs of Anafarta Saghir, while to the
left they gazed across the shining white surface of the Salt Lake,
past Lala Baba, to the bay crowded with warships and transports and
hurrying launches, and to the calm and splendid peak of Samothrace.
Many of “D” Company (“The Pals”) of the 7th Dublins were men who had
taken degrees at Trinity or the National University, and they may
well have recalled past studies and thrilled to remember that the
word “Samothrace” had always been associated with Victory. Most of
all, however, they watched the hill in front of them and wondered
what fate might have in store for them there.
At last the bombardment ceased and the lines rose. General Hill had
ordered that at all costs the position was to be taken before dark,
and reinforced by two battalions of the 11th Division at 7 p.m. the
charge began. On one flank the Inniskillings and on the other the
Irish Fusiliers pressed forward. “A” Company of the 7th Dublins,
led by Major Harrison, a splendid soldier, closely supported by
“The Pals” under Captain Poole Hickman (a barrister who had served
in the ranks of the Company which he now commanded) made for the
centre of the hill. The gleaming line of bayonets recked little of
the Turkish fire, but rushed onward up the slopes. The Turk, on the
defensive always, stands his ground well, and in more than one place
the bayonets crossed; but the rush of the Irish charge was not to be
denied. Fatigue and thirst were forgotten as the Fusiliers, exulting
in the force of their attack, dashed over trench and communication
trench until the crest of the hill was gained.
As they reached it, the sun sank behind Samothrace, and the impending
darkness made further pursuit fruitless. There was much work to be
done in the short Southern twilight, for the hill was a maze of
trenches and dug-outs, with paths leading everywhere and nowhere, so
that it was hard to find one’s way. Outposts were hastily detailed
and pushed forward over the crest, and the battalions which were much
mixed, after a hurried reorganization, bivouacked on and around the
hill that they had taken. Their work, however, was by no means at
an end, for it was necessary to make arrangements for bringing up
food and water, to replenish ammunition, to bury the dead, and to
collect the wounded. This last was by no means a pleasant task, since
they were scattered all over the area across which the attack had
taken place, and in the darkness it was easy for an unconscious man
lying under a bush to escape notice. Here, as everywhere, however,
the stretcher-bearers worked magnificently, and the doctors who
had marched with their units all day, settled down to a night of
strenuous labour. It is impossible to exaggerate the devotion to duty
displayed by the regimental Medical Officers: they utterly ignored
their own fatigue in order to ease the sufferings of their comrades.
While they were working, the task of replenishing supplies was going
forward, though it proved to be one of considerable difficulty. The
heaviest share of the burden fell on quartermasters of units and
on the staff at the beach, who were left to regulate this matter.
The night was pitch dark, and lighters were discharging their loads
at various points along two miles of beach, so that it was by no
means easy to find the stores required, or when they were found
to entrust them to the representative of the unit that required
them. Fortunately, however, a considerable surplus of rations and
ammunition had been brought on the fleet sweepers from Mitylene,
and this was divided among quartermasters. It was then necessary to
have it sent up to Chocolate Hill, and since no animals or transport
of any kind were available, this task became one of considerable
difficulty. However, the men of the 6th Dublins, who had been in
reserve during the day, were employed on this service, and their
fatigue parties toiled throughout the night transporting the heavy
boxes over the two-and-a-half miles of broken ground that intervened
between the beach and the hill.
The crux of the whole situation was water. The single water-bottle
that each man had brought ashore had long been empty, and all were
parched with thirst. Though some water lighters had run aground in
the bay, others had reached the shore, but there were no vessels of
any kind in which the priceless fluid could be carried up to the
firing line. In view of the facts that the position had only been
captured at dusk, and had barely been consolidated, and that it was
reasonable to expect that the enemy would counter-attack, it was felt
that it was impossible to send men down to the beach to fill their
water-bottles, and yet there appeared no method by which the water
could be conveyed to the position. Petrol cans and biscuit-tins were
not forthcoming, and though Lieutenant Byrne, the Quartermaster of
the 6th Dublins, tried the experiment of sending up water in empty
small-arm ammunition boxes, it was not wholly successful. At last
the camp-kettles belonging to units came ashore, and by utilizing
these, a scanty supply of water was sent up into the firing line.
This work of organizing the supply of water, food and ammunition
occupied the whole of the night of the 7th, and it was not till
late on the 8th that it was complete. The main responsibility for
it so far as General Hill’s force was concerned, rested on Capt. T.
J. D. Atkinson, the Staff Captain of the 31st Brigade. He received
invaluable assistance from Lieutenant and Quartermaster R. Byrne of
the 6th Dublins, who on this, as on many other occasions, displayed
such conspicuous ability and energy as to gain him the Military Cross.
Meanwhile, units began to take stock of their losses. Judged by the
scale of later fighting in the Peninsula the casualties were not
very heavy, though at first sight they appeared formidable enough.
However, having regard to the fact that the troops had been under
constant shell fire for twelve hours and at the end of it had
taken an entrenched position by assault, the force could consider
itself fortunate in not having suffered more severely. The bulk of
the wounds were caused by shrapnel, which tended to confirm the
impression that the hostile infantry who held Chocolate Hill were not
very numerous. Had they been in equal strength to our men and been
well supplied with machine-guns, the losses sustained in the attack
must inevitably have been far greater. Nevertheless, the capture
of the Chocolate Hill-Green Hill position was a highly creditable
performance for young troops who were receiving their baptism of
fire. When it is remembered that they had been on the move throughout
the greater part of the day in a temperature of well over 100°, the
dash and determination exhibited by all the Irish regiments engaged
augured well for their future.
Unfortunately, several senior officers had fallen. The 7th Dublins
lost Major Tippett, who had served for years in the old Dublin City
Militia, and had left the security of a political agent’s post
in an English country constituency to die in his old regiment.
Lieutenant Julian of the same battalion, who died of his wounds, was
a young officer of great promise, whose death was deeply mourned.
The 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers, who had suffered severely from the
enemy on their left flank, lost Major Garstin killed; and their
Adjutant and nearly a dozen more officers wounded. In traversing
the open ground by the Salt Lake and in the assault on the hill,
the 6th Inniskillings had also sustained many casualties. Colonel
Cliffe (destined to die later in France) was wounded, and so was
Major Musgrave, his second-in-command; while half-a-dozen more
officers were _hors de combat_. One of these was the Quartermaster,
Lieutenant Dooley, who was struck by shrapnel while superintending
the unloading of ammunition from a lighter on the beach.
While Chocolate Hill was being attacked, the remainder of the
Division was hotly engaged to the northward.
When Sir Bryan Mahon arrived from Mudros with the 6th and 7th Royal
Munster Fusiliers and the 5th Royal Irish Regiment, he found that
the force under General Hill had already landed, and was in action.
Nothing remained of the Division which he had raised and trained for
nearly a year, but the three battalions which he had brought with
him and the 5th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, which had not begun to
disembark. It was an extraordinary position for an officer who was
a Lieutenant-General of three years’ standing, and had commanded a
division for more than six years, to find himself entering into an
action with only four battalions under his command, the whole of the
rest of his command having been diverted elsewhere. However, he made
the best of the situation and proceeded so far as the force at his
disposal would permit, to carry out the task which had been allotted
to the Division, namely advancing on the left of the 11th Division
and securing the Kiretch Tepe Sirt.
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL L. L. NICOL, C.B., COMMANDING 30TH
BRIGADE]
Beach “A” had been found unsuitable for use, as the water near it was
so shallow that the lighters ran aground at a considerable distance
from the shore. The Navy had by this time found a better landing
place on the north shore of Suvla Bay, slightly to the east of an
isolated peak called Ghazi Baba, which rises from the shore. To this
new landing place the two Munster battalions of the 30th Brigade with
Brigadier-General L. L. Nicol and their Brigade Headquarters and the
Divisional Pioneer Battalion were directed. It proved by no means
ideal, since many of the lighters ran aground a considerable distance
from the shore, and officers and men had to plunge into the water,
which was waist deep, and wade to the land. Fortunately, wet clothes
were soon dried by the Gallipoli sun, but the stranded boats afforded
excellent targets to the Turkish artillery. On reaching the shore a
little before noon, the 6th Munsters who landed first found that the
enemy had sown the beach with land-mines which exploded on contact.
Several men were injured by these, while the Adjutant of the 6th
Munsters was knocked down, but not hurt.
The orders given to the two battalions of Munsters and the Royal
Irish who acted as support, were to climb the Kiretch Tepe Sirt
Ridge at its western end and push forward along the crest as fast as
possible. A certain amount of ground had been made good in the course
of the night by the 11th Manchester Regiment, but it was desirable
that the whole ridge should be secured as quickly as possible in
order to safeguard the left flank of the advance across the Anafarta
plain. The Munsters accordingly struggled up the steep bushy slope
under the burning rays of the midday sun, and deployed for advance
about 1.30 p.m. The 6th Munsters were on the left and the 7th on the
right. They then pushed forward, but it was at once obvious that the
country was one which offered many advantages to an enemy who wished
to fight a delaying action.
Although from a distance the Kiretch Tepe Sirt appeared to be a
long whale-backed hill six hundred feet high, yet its sides were
seamed with gullies and tiny peaks almost invisible from below,
which detached themselves from the main contour of the crest line.
Moreover, it was covered with dense oak and holly scrub, which
entirely concealed the numbers of the enemy and made it impossible to
ascertain whether a unit was being opposed by a handful of snipers
or a battalion. As they pushed through this dense thicket, the
Munsters passed many indications of this fight waged by the 11th
Manchesters, and soon the sight of fly-infested corpses ceased to
cause a shudder. Soon they came in contact with the battalion itself,
or rather what was left of it, since it had suffered heavily. Its
Colonel was wounded, his second-in-command killed, and nearly half
its strength were out of action. Those who remained were exhausted
and very thirsty, and were unable to advance further. The Turks were
holding a rocky mound which commanded the crest of the ridge for
about six hundred yards to the west of it. From this point of vantage
they were pouring a considerable volume of rifle fire on any troops
who attempted to advance. Having taken in the situation, the Munsters
went forward to attack the position, and had succeeded in getting
within about a hundred yards of it when darkness fell.
In this engagement, fought in an unknown country against an enemy
who knew every track and gully, and was able to leave snipers in the
bushes behind him as he retired, the Munsters suffered severely, but
were ready to advance again at dawn. A night attack was considered
impracticable, since the country was absolutely unknown to the
troops and very intricate. On the following day (the 8th) the
Turkish position was attacked and finally stormed. The party of
the 6th Munsters who took the culminating point, were led by the
second-in-command of their battalion, Major Jephson, and the knoll
was christened after him, Jephson’s Post. Further advance proved
impossible, the enemy being in possession of a strongly entrenched
position, extending right across the ridge, and steps were taken to
dig in on the line held.
In this brisk engagement the two battalions of Munsters, supported
by the Royal Irish Regiment, and on the 8th by the 5th Royal
Inniskilling Fusiliers, had had to contend with an enemy possibly
weaker in numbers, but possessing an intimate knowledge of the
country and favoured by the lie of the ground. It was believed
at Headquarters that the Turkish force on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt
consisted of close on 700 Gendarmeries, who had been for months
patrolling the Suvla district, and had the advantage of having
already prepared entrenchments on the ridge. Against such a foe it
was no mean achievement for a newly-landed force to have advanced
over two miles in a puzzling and intricate country and to have
expelled the enemy from a well-fortified position, the whole being
accomplished within twenty-four hours of landing.
Naturally, there were numerous casualties. The 7th Munsters suffered
most severely, having Captain Cullinan, Lieutenant Harper, Lieutenant
Travers and 2nd-Lieutenant Bennett killed, and Major Hendricks,
Captain Cooper-Key, Captain Henn and half-a-dozen subalterns wounded.
In the 6th Munsters, Lieutenant J. B. Lee, a Dublin barrister, was
killed on the 7th, and Major Conway, a Regular officer of the Munster
Fusiliers, fell in the assault on Jephson’s Post on the 6th. Several
subalterns were wounded, and there were numerous casualties among
the rank and file. It was, however, fortunate that the enemy had no
machine-guns, and that the thick scrub made it hard to direct their
artillery fire with accuracy, or the losses would have been far
heavier.
For a week the battalions held the line that they had captured, being
reinforced by the 5th Inniskillings, who took over the trenches on
the northern slope of the ridge looking down on to the Gulf of Saros.
This flank was guarded by a destroyer, which did invaluable service
by giving notice of enemy movements, by searchlight work at night,
and by rendering artillery support when necessary.
The period spent in these trenches was by no means an enjoyable one,
for water was very short and had to be fetched from a considerable
distance away. Shade there was none, since the sun pierced vertically
downwards, and the prickly scrub gave but little cover from above.
The trenches had been hastily constructed in a sandy soil that
crumbled and fell in at the first opportunity and required constant
work at them. By day the Turkish snipers made this impossible, so the
men lay, too hot and thirsty and tormented by flies to sleep, and
by night they were stirred up to work again. To add to the horror
of the position, the unburied bodies of those who had fallen in the
previous fighting, lying in inaccessible gullies or in the midst of
the scrub, began to spread around the foul, sweet, sickly odour of
decay. Once smelt, this cannot be forgotten, for it clings to the
nostrils, and many a man recalled how true an insight Shakespeare had
into the soldier’s mind when he made Coriolanus use as his expression
of supreme contempt the words:
“Whose love I prize
As the dead carcases of unburied men
That do corrupt the air.”
This, however, was only an aggravation of the situation; the real
trouble was thirst. Men lied to get water, honest men stole it, some
even went mad for want of it; but it was cruelly hard to obtain.
Owing to some error, an insufficient supply of vessels for carrying
it had arrived from Mudros, and it became necessary to send down
a platoon from each company with the company’s water-bottles to
the beach to fill them. It was a long and trying walk in the dark,
and even when the beach was reached, water was by no means easy to
obtain, since thirsty soldiers had cut holes in the hoses that filled
the tanks on shore from the water-boats, and consequently much was
wasted.
It had been hoped to utilise the resources of the country, but the
Turks had foreseen our difficulties, and when the Engineers examined
a well near Ghazi Baba, they found it surrounded by a circle of
land-mines. Other wells further inland were well watched by snipers.
Nor even when sufficient water was obtainable, was it easy to convey
it back to the battalion. Some water-bottles leaked; others had been
only half filled, or carelessly corked, while occasionally a thirsty
soldier took advantage of the darkness to refresh himself from one
of the bottles which he was carrying. As a result, when the bottles
were distributed, there were bitter complaints from the men who found
themselves presented with only a few spoonfuls of water as a supply
for twenty-four hours. Tea-making, too, became difficult, since it
was almost out of the question to obtain the water required in equal
quantities from each man.
It soon became clear that the system of regulating the whole water
supply of the unit by the water-bottle of the individual soldier
was not a sound one, since the improvident consumed their day’s
supply at once, and the fool who lost his water-bottle was in a
hopeless position. Commanding officers and company commanders first
began by pooling all water-bottles, and issuing their contents in
mess-tins from time to time; while gradually they collected petrol
and biscuit-tins in which to store a reserve fund. Thanks to these
measures, and to the experience gained by the men, matters gradually
improved.
Two events that occurred during this period gave some fillip to
the spirits of the men on the ridge. The first of these was the
arrival of a mail which brought not only letters and papers, but
also parcels, and some of these parcels contained cake. Cake was a
priceless boon in Gallipoli. Home-made and home-packed ones sometimes
met with disaster and arrived in the form of crumbs, but those made
by an expert, and sealed in an air-tight tin arrived safely, and
were more welcome than anyone unacquainted with the ration biscuit
can imagine. The ration biscuit takes various forms, some of which
are small and palatable, but the type most frequently met with in
Gallipoli was large and square, possessing the appearance of a dog
biscuit and the consistency of a rock. It was no doubt of excellent
nutritive quality, but, unfortunately, no ordinary pair of teeth was
able to cope with it. Some spread jam upon it, and then licked the
surface, thereby absorbing a few crumbs; others soaked it in tea
(when there was any); while a few pounded it between two stones, and
found that the result did not make bad porridge. After a week of this
regimen, it is easily imagined how glad men were to put their teeth
into something soft again.
The second encouragement was the arrival of the first reinforcements
from Mudros. The worn and jaded men who had spent a week on the
ridge, and had lost the glamour and excitement caused by the first
experience of action, were surprised to find how glad their comrades
were to rejoin them. The tawny scrub and fresher air of Gallipoli
seemed delightful to them after Mudros, and their pleasure was so
infectious that many of the older hands came to the conclusion that
the Peninsula was not such a bad place after all.
During the first two or three days spent in holding the ridge
position, the attention of officers was given more to the details
of water supply than to the movements of the enemy. The latter had,
however, been reinforced, and were becoming more aggressive. The
Kiretch Tepe Sirt was of considerable tactical value to them, as if
they were able to regain their ground, they would be able to enfilade
our troops on the Anafarta plain, as well as being able to watch all
movements on the beaches. Not only therefore did they push forward
snipers, who picked off individual officers and men—among them
Lieutenant Burrows, Machine-gun Officer of the 6th Munsters; but more
organised attempts at lodgments were made, and patrol fights were not
uncommon. One of these may be described as typical. The 6th Munsters,
who were holding Jephson’s Post, discovered that the Turks were
digging in close to their immediate front, and Colonel Worship gave
orders that a party under Captain Oldnall were to attack them at dawn
and drive them out. Lieutenant Waller, R.E., accompanied the party in
charge of the bombers.
Just before daylight the attack was made, and after a strenuous
struggle, in which Captain Oldnall was seriously and Lieutenant
Gaffney mortally, wounded, the post was seized. Lieutenant Waller
displayed the most conspicuous courage in going out three times under
very heavy fire to rescue Lieutenant Gaffney and two other wounded
men. It is the custom of the corps of Royal Engineers to disregard
all danger in the performance of their duty, and Sapper Officers have
many splendid achievements to their credit. But no sapper officer can
ever have shown greater courage and self-sacrifice than Lieutenant
Waller did on this occasion. His action was worthy of the best
traditions of his Corps.
The post captured turned out to be the end of a Turkish communication
trench leading down to the south-east end of the ridge. It was
blocked with sandbags, and the portion nearest the Munsters’ trench
retained as an advanced post. The garrison holding this were somewhat
surprised when later in the afternoon an enormous Turk came wandering
up the trench alone with an armful of bombs, but he was promptly made
prisoner by Lieutenant J. L. Fashom, of the Munsters, who disputed
with Lieutenant Burke, of the Connaught Rangers, the claim to be the
smallest officer in the 10th Division.
Incidents like this enlivened the general monotony, but on the whole
the time spent in these trenches was a dreary, thirsty one, and all
ranks were pleased when it became evident that the remainder of
the Division was beginning to rejoin them, and that there was some
prospect of an advance.
CHAPTER VI
KIRETCH TEPE SIRT.
AUGUST 15TH-16TH, 1915.
“If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you,
Except the will that says to them ‘Hold on.’”
—_Kipling._
Before dealing with the battle of Kiretch Tepe Sirt, it is necessary
to give some account of the doings of General Hill’s force after
the capture of Chocolate Hill on the 7th. Dawn on the 8th found
them bivouacking on the position they had taken on the previous
evening and during the day, a defensive trench system, including both
Chocolate Hill and Green Hill (Hill 50), 500 yards to the eastward
of it. By this time the line taken up by our troops ran from the sea
at Beach “B” to the two hills held by the 31st Brigade and thence
northward across the Anafarta Plain at an average distance of three
miles from the sea.
Throughout the 8th no advance was made from this line, since the
Corps Commander was of opinion that the troops were very exhausted,
and that there was insufficient artillery support at his disposal
to justify him in making an attack on an enemy of unknown strength
possessing the advantages of a superior position and knowledge of the
ground. Unquestionably there was a considerable amount to be said in
favour of this contention. On the previous day the enemy’s barrage
fire had taken a heavy toll of casualties, and but little effective
reply had been made to it. This was in part due to difficulties of
observation, but also to the fact that up to the 8th, only three
batteries had been landed, two of which, being mountain batteries,
possessed only guns of small calibre. There were also the guns of the
ships, but it was not always easy to communicate with the fleet in
time to achieve the desired object, and it must also be borne in mind
that space in a warship is limited, and that once its magazine is
empty it cannot quickly be replenished. Added to these considerations
the fact that the men were suffering terribly from want of water,
that no transport of any kind was available, and that in consequence
every unit found itself compelled to detach about a quarter of its
men for the purpose of carrying up rations and ammunition, made it
not unnatural for a commander to exercise caution.
On the whole, the 8th was a quiet day for the troops, though the sun
shone as fiercely as ever and there was plenty of work to be done
in burying the dead and getting up supplies. There was not much
shelling, but hostile snipers were ubiquitous and much in evidence.
These crawled up through the scrub or climbed trees in such manner
that they commanded the greater part of our line, and made it
dangerous to move about.
On Monday, the 9th, the Corps Commander had decided to attack the
high ground behind Anafarta Saghir with the 11th Division and part
of the newly-landed 53rd (Territorial) Division. For the purpose of
this attack, General Hill was ordered to place two battalions under
the orders of the General Officer Commanding the 32nd Brigade (11th
Division). The 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers and the 6th Royal Dublin
Fusiliers, neither of which had sustained very heavy losses in the
previous fighting, were detailed for this duty and co-operated in the
attack. The objective allotted to them was a height known as Hill 70,
the culminating ridge of a spur which ran out to the north-east of
Chocolate Hill between the hill and Anafarta Saghir about a mile and
a half south-west of that village.
[Illustration: A FAUGH-A-BALLAGH TEASES A TURKISH SNIPER
_Official photograph issued on behalf of the Press Bureau, Crown
copyright reserved_]
As soon as the advance began, it became evident, both from the
increase in the volume of musketry and from the growing intensity
of the hostile artillery fire, that the Turks had been heavily
reinforced, but in spite of their losses, the Fusiliers effected a
lodgment on the ridge. For a time they clung to it though the
enemy were delivering repeated counter-attacks, and a series of bush
fires caused by their shells made the position almost untenable, and
threatened the wounded with the most terrible of deaths. Further to
the left, however, the 32nd Brigade found that they were unable to
hold the ground that they had won in their first advance, and were
compelled by attacks on their flanks to withdraw to their original
alignment.
The Fusiliers, who had suffered heavily under the violent Turkish
attacks, conformed to their movements and returned to their first
position. Captain Johnston, the Adjutant of the 6th Royal Irish
Fusiliers, was killed and so was Lieutenant MacDermot of the same
regiment, which also lost eight officers wounded: the Dublins also
lost heavily. In the course of this action, a curious incident is
said to have occurred. The Medical Officer of the 6th Dublins had
followed his battalion in its forward movement, and had established
his advanced dressing-station under a tree in the newly-captured
territory. After a time he noticed that several of the wounded, who
were brought back by the stretcher-bearers, were hit a second time as
they lay waiting to have their wounds attended to. A search was made
for snipers in the surrounding bushes without result, but eventually
a Turk was discovered perched in the tree itself.
While these operations were in progress, the remainder of General
Hill’s force had been employed in support. While fulfilling this
rôle, they suffered both from the ubiquitous snipers and from the
enemy’s shrapnel fire, which had become far heavier than it was two
days earlier. The casualties, however, were not very heavy, except in
the two attacking battalions. Another sphere of usefulness was also
found for portions of the supporting units.
The prolonged fire fight waged by the 11th Division had exhausted
their ammunition, and officers and men from General Hill’s force
were detailed to carry up fresh supplies. It is not particularly
pleasant work, carrying up thousands of rounds of ball cartridge in
a tropical country through bushes infested with snipers, but the men
did it splendidly. Lieutenant J. F. Hunter, of the 6th Inniskilling
Fusiliers, was afterwards awarded the Military Cross for the courage
and disregard of danger exhibited by him on this occasion. Often,
too, the ammunition carriers when they had delivered their loads
attached themselves to the nearest unit and joined the firing line.
Captain Tobin and a party of the 7th Dublins fought side by side with
an English regiment in this manner throughout the day. There was
little wrong with the _morale_ of the troops when men voluntarily
thrust themselves into the positions of greatest danger.
On the following day, August 10th, the day on which the struggle on
Sari Bair reached its height, another unsuccessful attack was made on
the Anafarta ridge, but in this General Hill’s force took no part.
They were now, and for the rest of the week occupied in holding the
line that they had captured on the 7th through Green Hill. This
position was heavily shelled by the enemy and some units lost heavily.
Throughout this period, however, the troops suffered most for want of
water. Though by this time a certain number of petrol cans and other
receptacles for carrying water had been obtained yet these were quite
insufficient to satisfy the men’s consuming thirst. It is hard to
find words to convey the true state of affairs. No doubt it would be
too much to say that at home thirst is unknown, but at any rate the
passionate craving for water felt in Gallipoli is seldom experienced.
When the water came up, the most careful supervision was needed
in order to see that the much-needed liquid was used to fill the
water-bottles and not consumed at once. When the bottles were filled,
or rather had received their share, since there was not water enough
to fill them, it was necessary to watch them vigilantly in order to
make the supply last as long as possible.
Some men became hardly responsible for their actions; the heat was
intense, the biscuit was dry and the bully beef very salt, while
many men were suffering from dysentery or enteritis and were parched
with fever though they were unwilling to report sick in the face
of the enemy. In such times surface civilization vanishes, and
man becomes a primitive savage. A few men crept away to look for
water by themselves, others stole bottles from their neighbours
and emptied them, but on the whole the discipline of the force
stood the strain remarkably well. It was a severe trial for young
unacclimatized soldiers who had less than a year’s service, but the
months of training had not been in vain. The men knew and trusted
their officers, and felt that they would do their best for them.
Perhaps the officer’s position was hardest of all. Thirsty himself,
rationing himself by spoonfuls in order to make the contents of his
water-bottle last longer, he was compelled to watch his men suffering
from pangs which he could not relieve, and at the same time to try
and keep their spirits up by laughing and joking with them. There
had always been friendship between the officers and men of the 10th
Division, but a bond not easily to be broken was cemented in those
scorching suffering days.
[Illustration: THE 7TH DUBLINS IN THE TRENCHES AT CHOCOLATE HILL
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
By this time it had become evident to the Higher Command that no
further progress could be made at Suvla without reinforcements, and
steps were taken to obtain them from Egypt and from the Cape Helles
area. In the meanwhile it was decided that the 10th Division
should be reunited, and accordingly, one by one, the battalions of
General Hill’s force were relieved from their posts on Chocolate Hill
and Green Hill and marched down to the beach to rest.
The battalions as they tramped back to the shore again were very
different in appearance from those that had marched up from it less
than a week before. Officers and men alike were dirty and unshaven,
for water had been precious, and the sweat dried on the face, and the
five days’ growth of stubble told plainly of the hardships they had
been through. Even more clearly did the eyes tell it, and the worn
cheeks and leanness of limb. Clothes and boots had not been taken off
since landing, and both were soiled with sweat and blood. There were
many gaps in the ranks: death, wounds and sickness had taken their
toll, and nearly every man had to mourn for a lost comrade, yet for
all the sorrow and the weariness there was something in the men’s
bearing that was not there before. When they landed they were full of
high hopes and eager to justify splendid traditions, but they were
untried. Now they had proved themselves, and faced the future filled
with confidence gained from their own deeds. The move began on the
10th and was completed when the 7th Dublins marched down on the 13th.
On the beach, though the comfort of the rest-camp was nothing to
boast of, men were at least able to wash and shave, though the amount
of fresh water available for this purpose was limited, and the man
who got a mugful was lucky. Even so, most hurried to remove the long
stubble that covered their chins, for a five days’ old beard is not
only unsightly, but uncomfortable, pricking and tickling the skin
at every movement, and harbouring any quantity of dust and sand.
Fortunately too, though fresh water was scarce, the sea was at hand,
and it was possible to bathe. Some poet should sing of the delight of
bathing in Gallipoli. Not even Mr. Masefield has done it justice. In
the water one could for the first time be cool and free from care,
though not from danger. By day the water sparkled in the sunshine:
at night the form of the swimmer was outlined in phosphorescence and
great bubbles of glowing light broke round him as he moved, and by
day and night alike the bather could free himself from the burden of
responsibility which weighed him down on shore. As Antaeus renewed
his strength whenever he touched the earth, so the Island people
gained fresh stores of endurance from a dip in the sea. In the water,
too, all men were equal, and rank could be laid aside.
After resting for a day or so on the beach, and receiving the first
reinforcement which had just arrived from Mudros, the 10th Division
(less 29th Brigade) concentrated on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, General
Hill’s force once more coming under the command of Divisional
Headquarters. As General Birdwood had reported that Anzac was not
yet in a position to co-operate in an attack on Ismail Oglu Tepe,
it was decided to occupy the Turks by attacking along the crest of
the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, and thus rendering it impossible for them
to bring an enfilade fire to bear against our operations on the
Anafarta plain. This attack was to be made on August 15th, and the
10th Division was ordered to undertake it. They were to be assisted
on their left by the guns of two destroyers in the Gulf of Saros,
and on their right by the 162nd Brigade of the 54th Territorial
Division. Artillery support was also, of course, arranged for. The
task before the Division was one of considerable difficulty since the
enemy occupied a strongly entrenched position, and was known to have
received large reinforcements. However, waiting would only make him
stronger, and everyone was pleased at the prospect of action.
The 15th of August was not only a Sunday, but also the day known in
Ireland as “Lady Day in Harvest,” a great Church festival, and the
chaplains had endeavoured to arrange services for their battalions.
These had to be hurried through or attended only by the few who could
be spared, but nevertheless Canon McLean was able to administer Holy
Communion to some of the officers and men of the Dublins, and Father
Murphy visited each battalion of the 30th Brigade and gave the men
absolution. Then at peace with God they turned their faces again
towards the enemy.
The dispositions adopted for the attack were as follows: The 30th
Brigade (Dublins and Munsters) were to form the left wing of the
advance, with the extreme left of the 7th Munsters resting on the
Gulf of Saros. They thus covered the whole of the northern and part
of the southern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt. To their right two
battalions of the 31st Brigade were to advance through the southern
foothills of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt and across the open plain to
attack a spur known as Kidney Hill, which jutted out southward from
the main chain of the ridge. The 5th and 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers
and the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers were in reserve.
Soon after noon the attack commenced, and it was at once evident that
the Turks were holding their position in strength, the volume of fire
which they were bringing to bear on our men being infinitely greater
than that which had greeted us at the first landing. A captured
Turkish officer afterwards declared that they had in their firing
line six fresh battalions, each possessing twelve machine-guns. The
rattle of these seventy-two guns was painfully prominent, and made it
clear that the advance would be a costly one. The actual crest of
the hill was a bare rocky ridge covered with great scattered boulders
running for about a mile and a half at a height of six hundred feet
above sea level. Part of the ridge rose about fifty feet higher than
this, and from this central portion three small eminences stood out.
The central one of these was known as the “Pimple,” and was marked by
a cairn of stones.
The Division had gained a footing on the western end of the ridge on
August 8th by capturing the position afterwards known as Jephson’s
Post, and now the Turkish trenches ran across the hill between that
point and the “Pimple.” On the northern face the slope fell steeply
away from the crest, so steeply as to be almost precipitous until it
reached a height of three hundred feet above sea-level, from which
contour the descent to the sea was more gradual though the ground
was intersected by numerous gullies. On the southern face the hill
also fell away rapidly for about three hundred feet, after which the
descent became more easy, and various knolls and foothills detached
themselves from the main range. Both slopes of the hill were covered
with thick dry scrub, which had in a few places been set on fire
either by matches or shells, and consequently had become blackened.
This prickly scrub was a great impediment to movement of any kind and
rendered all operations painfully slow.
For more than two hours after the commencement of the action, but
little ground was gained. The enemy’s rifle and machine-gun fire was
well sustained, and efficiently supported by artillery, and it was
considered rash to advance until a fire fight had done somewhat to
silence the Turks. During this stage of the action, Major Jephson,
of the 6th Munsters, was mortally wounded on the peak that, a
week earlier, had received his name, and several other casualties
occurred among officers and men. At last, General Nicol, seeing that
the Turkish fire showed no signs of slackening, and that darkness
would soon make further operations impossible, directed that an
attempt to advance should be made along the northern slope of the
ridge. The order was at once complied with. Two companies of the 6th
Munsters and two of the 6th Dublins pressed forward accordingly, and
succeeded, thanks to a piece of dead ground, in traversing about half
of the five hundred yards that lay between Jephson’s Post and the
Turkish line of defence.
There for a while they rested, and then about 6 p.m. with the setting
sun at their backs they charged the Turkish positions. Crags and
scrub and cliff were as nothing to them, nor did they regard the
hostile fire but rushed on with gleaming bayonets in the force of an
irresistible attack. Few of the Turks stayed to meet them, and those
that did were in no mood to receive the charge, but held up their
hands and surrendered. Then as the Dublins and Munsters, Major Tynte
of the 6th Munsters at their head, gained the enemy’s position, they
gave a rousing cheer. It was taken up by the troops in support and by
all who watched the magnificent charge until from the Gulf of Saros
to the Salt Lake the air resounded with the shouts of victory. There
had not been much cause for cheering at Suvla, and the sight of the
dashing attack and the sound of the Irish triumph cry, thrilled the
hearts of many who had previously been despondent, and awakened hope
once more in their breasts. Most surprising of all was its effect on
the Turks. They had been heavily bombarded by the destroyers, they
had seen a position that they believed impregnable taken with the
bayonet, and now with the magic of the cries of the infidels ringing
in their ears, they abandoned their trenches and retired in haste.
The Dublins and Munsters pursued and drove them before them until the
whole of the northern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt as far as and
even beyond the “Pimple” was cleared. The men were disappointed that
more of the enemy did not stay to face them. One soldier was heard to
cry to a stout Turk who fled before him: “I don’t want to stick ye
behind. Turn round now and I’ll stick ye in the belly dacent.” Then,
as night was falling and nearly a mile of ground had been gained, a
halt was called so that the captured position might be consolidated.
On the right, meanwhile, the attack had unfortunately been less
successful. The main attack on Kidney Hill had been entrusted to the
5th Inniskilling Fusiliers, who, owing to the fact that they had not
disembarked till evening of the 7th, had sustained fewer casualties
than the rest of the Division; it was to be supported by the 6th
Battalion of the same regiment. The Inniskillings had probably the
most difficult task of any unit before them.
On the seaward side of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt the guns of the
destroyers were of tremendous assistance to the attack, but they
were unable to fire over the ridge. The remainder of our artillery,
especially the mountain batteries, did their best to keep down the
enemy’s fire, but they were shooting at a venture since the exact
position of the enemy’s trenches was not accurately known. In
consequence of this comparatively little had been done to prevent the
Turks on Kidney Hill from bringing their full rifle and machine-gun
fire to bear on our advance. The nature of the ground, too, lent
little help to the attackers. Though the scrub was thick and prickly
enough to break up the advancing lines into small groups, and to
render it impossible for an officer to influence any more than
the four or five men who happened to be in sight of him, yet on
the plain it grew in scattered clumps. Between these clumps were
patches of sand or withered grass, on which the enemy were able to
concentrate their rifle and machine-gun fire. Added to this, the fact
that from the surrounding hills the Turkish gunners could see every
detail of the advance over the plain (khaki drill shows up clearly
in the Gallipoli scrub) and could spray it with shrapnel and high
explosive, made the operation three times as difficult. Nor was there
any distraction elsewhere in the Suvla area. The hostile artillery
was able to concentrate its whole force on the Inniskillings.
At noon the battalion began its advance, “A” and “D” Companies
leading. There lay before them a gradual ascent dotted with scrub for
about two hundred yards, and then half-a-mile of flat ground, from
which Kidney Hill rose abruptly.
The Turkish trenches were invisible and consequently there was little
attempt to subdue the enemy by a fire fight. The platoons went
straight forward, racing over the exposed patches, losing officers
and men at every step. The fire grew hotter and hotter and men fell
more and more quickly, but still the front line pressed only to be
swept out of existence. The distance was too far to cover in a single
rush, and no troops in the world could cross the five hundred yards
in front of the enemy’s trenches at a walk and live. The supports
came up and another attempt was made, but again the lines melted
away. The task was one impossible of achievement, for it is now known
that against modern weapons in the hands of an undemoralised enemy,
a frontal attack by daylight on an entrenched position a thousand
yards away is certain to fail. Yet even when they had failed, the 5th
Inniskillings did not fall back. Nearly all the officers were down,
but little groups of men still clustered in the bushes waiting for
orders. They could not advance; they would not retire until they were
told to. Lieutenant G. B. Lyndon, of the 6th Inniskillings, went out
after sunset and collected many of these little parties and brought
them in. For this he received the Military Cross. Invaluable service,
too, was done by the stretcher-bearers of the battalions and field
ambulances, who here, as everywhere, showed themselves fearless and
tireless in the performance of their duties.
[Illustration: THE ANAFARTA PLAIN
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
The casualty list was a terribly heavy one. Colonel Vanrenen, of the
5th Inniskillings, was killed, and so were Captain Robinson, Captain
Vernon, Lieutenant McCormack, Lieutenant Nelis, and Lieutenant Grubb
of the same unit. Both its Majors were wounded, together with two
captains and nearly a dozen subalterns. The losses among the rank
and file were in proportion, and the whole organisation of the
regiment was temporarily shattered. The 6th Inniskillings, who were
in support, had been heavily shelled, but had been lucky in escaping
severe loss.
The result of the failure of the right attack was that while we
held the northern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt up to and even
beyond the Pimple, yet on the Southern face of the hill we had been
unable to advance our line much beyond the trenches which we held
when operations on the 15th began. As a consequence, the line held
by the Division somewhat resembled a Z. The upper horizontal was
represented by a line of trench running from the Gulf of Saros to the
most advanced point on the crest of the ridge that was reached by the
charge of the 6th Munsters and 6th Dublins. This trench was exposed
to fire not only from the hills which continued the line of the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt eastward, but also from a spur known as 103, which
ran northwards into the sea. The diagonal joining the two horizontals
of the Z was represented by a line running along the northern or
seaward slope of Kiretch Tepe Sirt just below the crest. The crest
itself, since it was liable to be swept by shrapnel and machine-gun
fire, and since its rocky nature made it difficult to entrench, was
not held except at the lower horizontal, which represented the trench
running past Jephson’s Post, from which the attack had begun. The
position thus created was clearly far harder to hold than if it had
been merely a trench running across the ridge from North to South,
and would obviously require far more men. The two battalions from the
Reserve were, therefore, called up without delay.
The 7th Dublins had begun to move forward already, and were advancing
under circumstances of some difficulty. The enemy’s artillery were
shelling the line behind our position with considerable vigour, and
in addition snipers were more than usually active. One of these
pests, who was ensconced in a bush, succeeded in shooting Colonel
Downing in the foot, and though the Colonel promptly retaliated
with his revolver, and insisted that the wound was trivial, he
found himself unable to walk and was compelled to leave his beloved
battalion. Major Harrison took over command of the Unit.
After the reserves came up, the dispositions made for the defence
of the line running just below the crest of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt
were as follows:—The extreme end to the eastward was held by the 6th
Royal Irish Fusiliers; next to them came the 6th Munsters, and beyond
them “D,” “A” and “C” Companies of the 7th Dublins. “B” Company of
the last-named regiment had been sent down the hill on the seaward
side to dig a trench covering Hill 103. The 6th Dublins, who had
sustained heavy losses in the charge, were withdrawn to rest. These
dispositions were adopted just before nightfall. The soil of the
ridge was too stony to admit of much entrenching, and in most cases
the men lay down on their arms just behind the crest on the seaward
side, though in one or two spots stone _sangars_ were constructed.
They were given but little time to work before they were attacked.
The knowledge that no advance had been made on any part of the plain
below made it possible for the enemy to employ a large proportion of
his reserves in the recovery of the ground lost on the Kiretch Tepe
Sirt, while the fact that the Southern slope of the hill was still in
his possession enabled him to push men along it to attack any portion
of our long, thinly-held line at close quarters.
The first of the hostile counter-attacks began about 10 p.m., when
a wave of Turks who had crept along the landward slope and up to
the crest in silence, burst over it with a yell and fell upon the
British line. Fortunately, our men were not taken by surprise; a
roar of musketry at close range received the enemy, and when it came
to bayonet work our _morale_ proved more than sufficient to dispose
of the foe. After a stiff fight, the attackers disappeared over the
crest leaving a good proportion of their numbers behind them on the
ground. Listening posts were then sent out to the further side of
the ridge in order to preclude the possibility of a surprise attack
succeeding, and the remainder of the tired men lay down again, rifle
in hand to secure as much rest as possible.
Little sleep was allowed them. Before the first light of the early
summer dawn began to appear in the sky, the listening posts were
driven in, and a fresh Turkish attack was made. On this occasion the
assault was led by bomb-throwers, and although those who crossed
the crest and came to close quarters were disposed of by the Irish
with rifle and bayonet, yet a considerable force of the enemy,
well-furnished with grenades, succeeded in establishing themselves
on the southern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt. From this position
they proceeded to bomb the whole length of our line incessantly,
throwing the grenades over the crest of the ridge so that they burst
in the midst of our ranks with deadly effect. Had the Fusiliers
been in possession of enough bombs they could have retaliated in
kind, but the few that they had were quickly used, and no more were
forthcoming. Even if they had been, the contest would scarcely have
been a fair one, since the grenade employed by the Turks in Gallipoli
was infinitely superior to that issued to the British. The latter was
an extemporised production, consisting of a detonator inserted in
a jam tin and furnished with a fuse, which had to be lighted with a
match.
The Turkish bomb, which was shaped like a cricket-ball, was both
more accurately fused and easier to throw. However, could they have
been obtained, the Dublins and Munsters and Irish Fusiliers would
have been glad even of jam-tins, since they would have enabled them
to make some reply to the enemy. Rifles and bayonets were useless
against an invisible foe, on the other side of a rocky ridge. The
two forces were, to use a homely comparison, in the position of men
sitting in the gutters of a house and fighting across the roof.
Under these circumstances grenades were obviously the most effective
weapon, and the side that lacked them suffered from an appalling
handicap.
As day broke, officers were able to take stock of the situation,
though the sight that met their eyes was not encouraging. On every
side men had fallen, and the strain on the survivors was appalling,
for the rain of bombs still continued. Here and there individual
officers organised attempts to drive the enemy back at the point
of the bayonet, but without success. A description of one of these
efforts will serve to make clear the fate with which they met. Major
Harrison, of the 7th Dublins, finding that his line was becoming
dangerously thin, determined to try the effect of a charge. He
selected for this purpose a party of “D” Company, “The Pals,” under
the command of Captain Poole Hickman.
The men were only too delighted at the prospect of action, and
charged fearlessly up the hill. As they appeared on the crest,
however, they were met by a storm of concentrated rifle and
machine-gun fire. Captain Poole Hickman fell mortally wounded, but
Major Harrison rushed forward bareheaded and took his place, leading
his men on till they reached the Turkish line. There he was struck by
a grenade thrown at close quarters, and of all the gallant spirits
who had followed him so pluckily only four made their way back over
the crest to their battalions. Similar charges made elsewhere met
with similar results; in some cases a whole platoon disappeared
and was never seen again. Among the officers who were lost in this
way were Captain Grant, 6th Munsters, and Lieutenant Crichton, 7th
Dublins. It was obvious that to cross the crest by daylight meant
death, since the Turks had been able to instal machine-guns in
positions that enfiladed it.
Since advance was impossible, the troops were compelled to remain
on their position, exposed to a perpetual fire of grenades, to
which they had no means of replying. The sun rose higher in the
sky and reached the zenith and still the bombing went on without
intermission, and the men of the 10th Division continued to suffer
and endure. The faces of dead comrades, lying at their sides,
stiffened and grew rigid, and the flies gathered in clouds to feast
on their blood, while from the ridge in front came the groans of the
wounded, whom it was impossible to succour. The men lying behind
the crest knew that at any moment a similar fate might come to any
of them, and they might fall a shattered corpse, or be carried back
moaning, but still they held on. The unceasing noise of the bursting
grenades, the smell of death, the sight of suffering, wore their
nerves to tatters, but worst of all was the feeling that they were
helpless, unable to strike a blow to ward off death and revenge their
comrades.
It is by no means easy to realise what the men felt during this
ordeal. Perhaps the strongest emotion was not the sense of duty,
the prompting of pride, or even the fear of imminent death, but
blind, helpless rage. In a charge or an advance a soldier rarely
feels anger. His whole soul is concentrated on reaching a definite
objective, and though he is prepared to kill anyone who stands in
his way, he does so without passion. The exultation born from rapid
movement, the thrill produced by the sense of achievement, banish all
personal feelings. But lying on the ridge under the pitiless bombing,
watching the mangled bodies of the dead, men had time to think, and
the fruit of their thoughts and of their impotence was black and
bitter hatred of the enemy. They were ready to run any risk in order
to do something to hurt him.
Some tried to catch the Turkish bombs as they were falling and throw
them back into the enemy’s lines before they exploded. Five times
Private Wilkin, of the 7th Dublins, performed this feat, but at the
sixth attempt he was blown to pieces. Elsewhere men, sooner than
lie impotent, took up stones and hurled them at the foe. Everywhere
the few remaining officers moved about among their men, calming the
overeager, encouraging the weary, giving an example of calmness and
leadership, of which the land that bore them may well be proud. In
doing this they made themselves a mark for the inevitable snipers,
who by now had ensconced themselves in coigns of vantage on the crest
of the ridge, and many died there. Thus fell Capt. Tobin, of the 7th
Dublins, a man greatly beloved. Here, too, fell Lieut. Fitzgibbon and
Lieut. Weatherill, of the same regiment. Fitzgibbon, a son of the
Nationalist M.P. for South Mayo, who, in the black days of Ireland’s
past had had many a dispute with the forces of the law, and had now
sent his son to die gloriously in the King’s uniform; Weatherill, a
boy who had made himself conspicuous in a very gallant battalion for
courage. Here, too, many other heroic souls laid down their lives,
but still the line held on.
The sun reached the west and began to sink; the ranks were thin,
the men were weary, and many mangled bodies lay along the fatal
ridge. The 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, exposed both in front and in
flank, had been practically annihilated. Their 5th Battalion came
up to reinforce them and shared their fate. Three officers of this
regiment, Captains Panton and Kidd, and 2nd-Lieut. Heuston, earned
the Military Cross by the inspiring example they gave on this
occasion. The last-named was reported as “wounded and missing,” and
was probably killed in this fight. Nearly all the officers of the
Irish Fusiliers had fallen, and the other regiments were in nearly as
bad a case; but still the line held on. Tired and hungry and thirsty
as they were, unable to strike a blow in their own defence, yet still
the men of the 10th Division were resolved not to retire a step until
the order to do so came. They were but young soldiers, who had had
less than a year’s training, and had received their baptism of fire
only a week earlier; but they were determined that however stern the
ordeal they would not disgrace their regiments.
In old days, in the thick of a hard-contested struggle, men rallied
round the colours—the visible symbol of the regimental honour. There
were no colours to rally round on the slope of the Kiretch Tepe
Sirt, but the regimental name was a talisman that held the battered
ranks to their ground. Their regiments had in the past won great
glory, but neither the men of the 87th who cleared the pine woods
of Barrosa with the cry of “Faugh a Ballagh!” nor the Dublins and
Munsters who leapt from the bows of the “River Clyde” into certain
death, need blush to own comradeship with their newly-raised Service
Battalions, who died on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt.
Darkness at last fell, and the sorely-tried men hoped for relief.
This was indeed at hand, though it did not take the form of fresh
troops. None were available, so the units of the division who had
suffered heavily in the charge of the previous day, and who had
had less than twenty-four hours’ rest, were called up again. The
6th Dublins, and with them the 5th Royal Irish (Pioneers), took
over the line of the ridge from the battalions who had held it so
stoutly. Nor were their sufferings less, for throughout the night
the bombing continued, and our men were still unable to make any
effective retaliation. Many officers and men fell, but the remainder
set their teeth and held their ground, until at last they received
the order to withdraw from the untenable position. Not a man moved
until he received the order, and then slowly, deliberately, almost
reluctantly, they retired. Bullets fell thickly among them, and
took a heavy toll, one of those killed being 2nd-Lieut. W. Nesbitt,
a young officer of the 6th Dublins, who, though junior in rank, had
made a tremendous impression by his character, and had earned the
name of “the Soul of the Battalion.” Before he was hit, the 6th
Dublins had had Major Preston and their Adjutant, Capt. Richards,
killed, and in the course of these operations three subalterns,
2nd-Lieut. Clery, 2nd-Lieut. Stanton, and 2nd-Lieut. McGarry, were
reported missing. Probably they died in some unseen struggle, and
their bones now lie in a nameless, but honoured grave on the field
where their regiment won such fame.
Gradually the shattered units withdrew to their original line, but
when the roll was called there were many names unanswered. The charge
on the 15th had cost many lives, the holding of the captured position
very many more, and yet all the effort and all the suffering seemed
to have been futile. The 10th Division had been shattered, the work
of a year had been destroyed in a week, and nothing material had been
gained. Yet all was not in vain. It is no new thing for the sons of
Ireland to perish in a forlorn hope and a fruitless struggle; they go
forth to battle only to fall, yet there springs from their graves a
glorious memory for the example of future generations. Kiretch Tepe
Sirt was a little-known fight in an unlucky campaign, but if the
young soldiers of the 10th Division who died there added a single
leaf to Ireland’s crown of cypress and laurel, their death was not in
vain.
CHAPTER VII
KABA KUYU AND HILL 60
“Oh, bad the march, the weary march, beneath these alien skies,
But good the night, the friendly night, that soothes our tired eyes;
And bad the war, the weary war, that keeps us waiting here,
But good the hour, the friendly hour, that brings the battle near.”
—_Emily Lawless._
After the close of the battle of Sari Bair, the 29th Brigade of the
10th Division was in urgent need of re-organisation. The Brigade
Staff had ceased to exist, and the Hampshires and Rifles were in
almost as bad a case, since almost every officer was killed or
wounded. The Leinsters, though they had sustained serious losses,
had still a fair number of senior officers left, and the Connaught
Rangers had suffered less severely, having up to the 11th only lost
five officers. The latter unit was therefore retained in the front
line, while the other battalions were withdrawn to refit.
Throughout the 11th the Rangers held the line, which had been
entrenched by two of their companies on the 10th, between the foot of
Rhododendron Ridge and the north-eastern extremity of the Damakjelik
Bair. This line, based on two natural ravines, was a strong one,
but General Cayley considered that it was too far in rear, and
accordingly after sunset on the 11th the Battalion advanced to an
under-feature at the foot of the Chunuk Bair, and commenced to dig
in there. The advance was by no means an easy one, since it had been
impossible to make a detailed reconnaissance of the ground over which
it had to take place, as by day it was exposed to the enemy’s fire
from the Chunuk. In consequence of this the left flank unexpectedly
found themselves descending a slope so steep that it was almost a
precipice. Fortunately, there were bushes at the bottom to break
the fall of those whose feet slipped, and if the bushes happened to
be prickly ones, well, it was no good complaining about trifles in
Gallipoli.
The position when reached was not an ideal one. Though protected to
a certain extent from bullets from the Chunuk, it did not afford a
very good field of fire, and lack of shelter from the sun, shortage
of water, and the smell proceeding from a gully full of corpses,
combined to make the position of those holding it unpleasant. The
greatest disadvantage, however, was the fact that the only avenue
of approach to the trench line was the Aghyl Dere, which was swept
by a hostile machine-gun. Supplies and ammunition had to be carried
up under cover of darkness, and everyone who went up or down by
daylight was obliged to run the gauntlet for about three hundred
yards. Several casualties were caused while doing this, among the
sufferers being the senior Captain of the Rangers, Captain Hog, who
received the wound from which he died in this manner. He was a man
of forty-five years of age, who had served in the 1st Battalion of
the Rangers in South Africa, and had rejoined from the Reserve of
Officers at the beginning of the war. Though double the age of some
of his comrades, he had set them a magnificent example by the way in
which he accepted hardships, and the loyalty with which he submitted
to the commands of men younger than himself.
The hardships were by this time considerable, since officers and
men alike were reduced to bully beef and biscuits. It had been
impossible to bring any mess stores to the Peninsula, and though
each officer had stuffed a tin of sardines, or some potted meat
into his haversack, these did not last long, and the rather reduced
ration of a tin of bully beef and four biscuits _per diem_ was all
that was obtainable by anyone. Cooking was practically impossible,
though occasionally one got a cup of tea, and men ate at odd moments,
seldom sitting down to a regular meal. It was noticeable that on the
whole the single men stood this discomfort better than those who were
married. In part, no doubt, this was due to the fact that they were
younger, but some of the oldest men proved to be the toughest. One
old sergeant, who had marched to Kandahar with Lord Roberts in 1879,
went through the whole Gallipoli campaign with the Division, and also
through the operations in Serbia in December without once going sick.
The married men were more used to being looked after, to having their
comfort considered, and to decent cooking, and to regular meals, and
the semi-barbaric existence upset them. Those who stood it best were
the tinkers, members of that strange nomad tribe who in Ireland take
the place of the English gipsies. It was no new thing for them to eat
sparingly, and sleep under the stars, and their previous life made it
easy for them to adapt themselves to circumstances.
For three days the Rangers held this position, and during this period
the re-organisation of the Brigade proceeded. The only Battalion
Commander left unhurt was Lieutenant-Colonel Jourdain, of the
Connaught Rangers, who took over command as a temporary measure,
but on the 13th he was succeeded by Lieutenant-Colonel G. K. Agnew,
M.V.O., D.S.O., Royal Scots Fusiliers. Captain R. V. Pollok, 15th
Hussars, was appointed Brigade-Major, and on August 20th, Captain R.
J. H. Shaw, 5th Connaught Rangers, took up the post of Staff Captain.
The officers and men of the first reinforcement who had been left
at Mudros rejoined their units on the 11th, and were very welcome.
In two cases officers arriving with this draft found themselves in
command of their battalions, since Major Morley, of the Hampshires,
and Captain R. de R. Rose, of the Rifles, were senior to any of the
few surviving officers of their units. The task before them was by
no means a light one, for the whole company organisation had been
destroyed, and nearly all the officers and senior N.C.O.’s were
_hors de combat_. However, they buckled to it with a will, and every
suitable man received temporary promotion.
On August 13th, the Connaught Rangers were withdrawn from the line
they were holding and given four days’ rest, which was, of course,
broken by numerous demands for fatigues. It is the universal
experience of soldiers that in this war one never works so hard as
when one is supposed to be resting. On the 17th they relieved the
6th South Lancashire and 6th East Lancashire Regiments in trenches,
which they held for three days, and considerably strengthened. On the
20th they were withdrawn from these trenches, and ordered to hold
themselves in readiness to join General Cox’s Brigade and take part
in an attack on the following day.
This attack had been planned in order to co-operate with the
movements at Suvla. Reinforcements in the shape of the 29th Division
from Cape Helles, and the 2nd Mounted Division (without their
horses) from Egypt, had arrived there, and an attack on Ismail
Oglu Tepe had been planned. This steep, thickly-wooded hill acted
as buttress to Koja Chemen Tepe, and as it overlooked the whole
of the Suvla Plain, afforded a valuable observation post to the
enemy’s artillery. With it in our hands we should not only be able
to interrupt communication between the two Anafartas, but would have
gained a valuable _point d’appui_ for any further attack.
Communication between the Anzac and Suvla forces had been obtained
on the 13th at Susuk Kuyu, north of the Asmak Dere, but it hung by
a narrow thread. It was therefore decided that simultaneously with
the attack on Ismail Oglu Tepe, General Birdwood should attack the
Turkish trenches north of him, and endeavour to win enough ground to
safeguard inter-communication. The execution of this operation was
entrusted to Major-General Cox, who was allotted the whole of his own
Indian Brigade, two battalions of New Zealand Mounted Rifles, the 4th
South Wales Borderers from the 11th Division, and the 5th Connaught
Rangers and 10th Hampshires from the 29th Brigade. All these units
had suffered heavily in the fighting a fortnight before, and the
Indian Brigade in particular was terribly handicapped by the fact
that it had lost almost all its British officers.
[Illustration: THE ANAFARTA PLAIN FROM THE SOUTH
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
The objective of this attack was contained in the salient enclosed
by the sea on the west, and the Damakjelik Bair on the south. A thin
line of outposts close to the sea connected Anzac and Suvla, but the
low ground which they held was commanded by a hill known as Kaiajik
Aghala, or Hill 60. At the point where this eminence began to rise
in a gentle slope from the plain, about four hundred yards north of
the Damakjelik, stood two wells called Kaba Kuyu. These wells were
extremely valuable to the Turks, since they, too, were short of
water, and it was against them that the first stages of the attack
were to be directed. There was, indeed, no object for which any man
in the rank and file would more willingly fight in Gallipoli in
August than a well. At the same time the wells, which the Turks were
known to have entrenched, were not the sole objective. The capture
of Hill 60 was extremely desirable, since not only did it menace
inter-communication between Suvla and Anzac, but with it in our hands
we should be in a position to enfilade a considerable portion of the
Turkish forces, which were opposing the attack from Suvla. General
Cox disposed of his forces as follows. On the extreme left the 5th
Ghurkas were to sweep across the low ground near the sea and get in
touch with the right flank of the Suvla force. In the centre, the
5th Connaught Rangers were to deploy in a gully of the Damakjelik
Bair, known as South Wales Borderers’ Gully, and charge across three
hundred yards of open ground to capture the wells. On the right, the
two battalions of New Zealanders, under Brigadier-General Russell,
forming up behind the trenches on Damakjelik Bair were to make an
attack on Hill 60 direct. Still further to the right a feint attack,
intended to draw off the Turkish reserves, was to be executed by the
10th Hampshire Regiment. The remainder of the force was in reserve.
The Connaught Rangers reached South Wales Borderers’ Gully after dark
on the 20th and bivouacked there for the night. As the attack was not
to be launched till 3 p.m. on the 21st, they had a long wait before
them, but there was plenty to be done. Officers spent the morning in
visiting the trenches held by the South Wales Borderers on Damakjelik
Bair and inspecting their objective through a periscope, for the
enemy snipers were too active to permit of any direct observation.
The Turks had constructed a trench in front of the wells to guard
them, which was connected with their main position by a communication
trench improvised from a deep water course which ran eastward. To
the northward a sunken road led from the wells in the direction of
Anafarta. No barbed wire appeared to have been erected, but it was
obvious that the crest of Hill 60 was strongly entrenched and held.
After this reconnaissance, orders were issued for the attack, and
while they were being prepared, officers and men alike were receiving
the consolations of religion. For the Church of England men, the
Rev. J. W. Crozier celebrated Holy Communion; and Father O’Connor
gave absolution to his flock. The bullets of snipers were whistling
overhead, and ploughed furrows through the ground as the men knelt in
prayer and listened to the message of peace and comfort delivered by
the tall khaki-clad figure. In a few hours they were to plunge into
a hand-to-hand struggle with the old enemy of Christendom, and their
pulses throbbed with the spirit of Tancred and Godfrey de Bouillon,
as they fitted themselves to take their places in the last of the
Crusades.
Nor was encouragement from their Generals lacking. Two hours before
the advance was due to begin, Major-General Godley visited the gully
and addressed as many of the men as could be collected. His speech
was not a long one, but he told them what he expected them to do. One
regiment had already failed to capture the wells; now the Rangers
were to do it with the cold steel. The men were not permitted to
cheer, but their faces showed their feelings. General Godley, himself
an Irishman, showed an intimate knowledge of the Irish character
by delivering this address. The knowledge that the credit of their
regiment was at stake and that the eyes of their leaders were on
them, was sufficient to nerve every man to do his utmost. As a matter
of fact, the spirit of the men was excellent; though dysentery and
enteric were raging not a man reported sick that morning for fear of
missing the fight.
At 2 p.m. the men paraded and worked slowly forward to the old
Turkish trench running across the mouth of the gully from which
the attack was to be launched. There was only sufficient frontage
for a platoon at a time to extend, so the advance was to be made
by successive waves of platoons, “C” Company leading, followed by
“D,” whilst “A” and “B” Companies were kept in support. Though every
precaution was taken to avoid making dust and so attracting the
attention of the Turks, yet bullets were continually falling among
the men, and two officers were wounded before the hour to advance
arrived. This was prefaced by a violent bombardment of the enemy’s
position, conducted not only by the batteries at Anzac, but also by
the monitors in the Gulf of Saros, which were in a position that
enabled them to enfilade the enemy’s line. The noise and dust were
terrific, but most of the Turks were well under cover and did not
suffer seriously.
Meanwhile, the men waited. A hundred years earlier an officer of
the Connaught Rangers had described the appearance and feeling of
his battalion as they stood awaiting the signal that was to call
them to the assault of the great breach of Ciudad Rodrigo, and his
description might have been fitted to their descendants in Gallipoli.
Here and there a man murmured a prayer or put up a hand to grasp his
rosary, but for the most part they waited silent and motionless till
the order to advance was given. At last, at 3.40, the bombardment
ceased, the word came, and the leading platoon dashed forward with a
yell like hounds breaking covert. They were met with a roar of rifle
fire, coming not only from the trench attacked, but also from Hill
60, and from snipers concealed in the scattered bushes. Not a man
stopped to return it; all dashed on with levelled bayonets across
the four hundred yards of open country, each man striving to be
the first into the enemy’s trench. That honour fell to the platoon
commander, Second-Lieutenant T. W. G. Johnson, who had gained Amateur
International Colours for Ireland at Association Football, and was a
bad man to beat across country. Rifle and bayonet in hand, he made
such good use of his lead that before his platoon caught him up
he had bayoneted six Turks and shot two more. For these and other
gallant deeds he was awarded the Military Cross.
The Turks stood their ground well, but succumbed to superior numbers,
for soon the supporting platoons came up, while “D” Company
moving more to the left was prolonging the line in that direction.
The whole of the trenches guarding the wells, together with the
wells themselves, were now in the hands of the Rangers, while the
communication trench leading to Hill 60 was cleared and blocked, and
the two companies in support were moved forward.
Meanwhile the New Zealanders’ attack on Hill 60 was not making quite
such satisfactory progress. The hill was both fortified with care
and held in strength by the enemy, and though General Russell had
succeeded in making a lodgment at its foot, he was unable to get
further. The Rangers had been ordered, after seizing the wells, to
do their utmost to assist his attack, and accordingly “A” Company
was detailed to advance and attack the western slopes of the hill.
By this time companies had become very mixed, and the charge was
composed of a crowd of men belonging to all the companies, mad with
the lust for battle. Their officers did little to restrain them,
for their Irish blood was aflame, and they were as eager as the
men. The line surged up the bare exposed glacis, only to encounter
tremendously heavy rifle and machine-gun fire from the crest. At the
same moment the enemy’s guns opened, displaying marvellous accuracy
in ranging, and the attack was annihilated.
In spite of this the men went on as long as they were able to stand,
and fell still facing the foe. From the wells below their bodies
could be seen, lying in ordered ranks on the hillside, with their
bayonets pointing to the front.
It was clear that further advance was impossible, and it only
remained for the survivors to consolidate the captured position,
which was now being heavily shelled. At 5.15 p.m. the 5th Ghurkas,
who had been unable to advance earlier in the afternoon, came up and
took over the left flank, including the sunken road running towards
Anafarta. The Rangers were then concentrated near the wells, which
they protected by a sandbag barricade, while steps were taken to get
in touch with General Russell’s New Zealanders, who were digging
themselves in at the foot of Hill 60, a little further to the east.
A portion of the gap between them and the Rangers was bridged by
the captured Turkish communication trench, and a sap to cover the
remainder was begun at once.
Contrary to anticipation, the enemy did not launch a counter-attack
to endeavour to recapture the wells, but their artillery was taking
a heavy toll of the conquerors, and officers and men were falling
fast. The Adjutant of the Rangers, Captain Maling, an officer to
whose judgment and courage the battalion owed an incalculable debt,
was severely wounded here, and the Sergeant-Major, who had joined in
the charge, had already been carried off with a wound in his leg.
“D” Company had only one officer left, and its sergeant-major and
quartermaster-sergeant had fallen, while “C” Company had had all
its officers hit, two of them fatally. Nevertheless, the men worked
hard to put their position in a good state of defence, and before
nightfall their object was achieved. At 7 p.m. communication with the
New Zealanders was obtained, and two platoons under Lieutenant Blake
effected a junction with them.
All through the afternoon the devoted stretcher-bearers were
transporting their burdens to the dressing-station in South Wales
Borderers’ Gully, where the doctor and the priest waited to render
devoted service. The labour imposed upon them may be imagined from
the fact that over a hundred and fifty cases passed through this
dressing-station alone. Now, nightfall made it possible to get up
supplies and ammunition. By this time the lesson of the battle
of Sari Bair had been learnt, and everything had been carefully
pre-arranged. The staff of the 29th Brigade were indefatigable in
getting up food and water, and though the Brigade-Major, Captain
Pollok, was wounded by a stray shot, his place was well filled by the
Staff Captain. By daylight the whole position was in a thoroughly
defensible state, being well-stocked with food, water and ammunition.
During the night, however, the New Zealanders had had a bad time,
and in this the two platoons of Connaught Rangers which had joined
them shared. Their position at the foot of Hill 60 was near enough
to the Turkish trenches at the top to enable the enemy to throw
down bombs, and this they did all night. At intervals, too, they
charged down with the bayonet in large numbers only to be repulsed.
Heavy casualties were caused in this fight, and among the killed was
Lieutenant Blake. His place was taken by Sergeant Nealon, an old
soldier, who had taken his discharge long before the war and started
business in Ballina.
When war broke out he was among the first to re-enlist, and so
inspiring was his example that Ballina disputes with Belfast the
credit for having the largest number of recruits in proportion to
population of any town in Ireland. No man ever looked less martial,
but his stout, comfortable figure concealed the spirit of a hero.
When his officer fell he took over the command, led back a mixed
group of Rangers and New Zealanders to a sector of trench that had
been abandoned owing to the violent bombing that it was suffering,
and held it until he was relieved. Another N.C.O. of the Rangers who
distinguished himself here was Sergeant John O’Connell, an Irish
American, who went out under heavy fire to bring in a wounded New
Zealander who was endeavouring to get back under cover. For this and
for unvarying courage he was awarded the D.C.M.
On the morning of the 22nd, the newly-landed 18th Australian
Battalion arrived on the scene, and attacked the crest of the hill,
in company with the New Zealanders. For a time one trench was
captured, but the captors were unable to maintain themselves in it,
and were driven out by bombing. The Rangers did not take part in this
attack, and on the evening of the 22nd were relieved, and returned to
their bivouac in South Wales Borderers’ Gully.
This engagement has been described in greater detail than its
intrinsic importance perhaps deserves, because hitherto the capture
of Kaba Kuyu Wells has not been officially attributed to an Irish
regiment at all.
The Rangers had not to complain of any lack of immediate recognition,
since on the day following their withdrawal Lieutenant-General Sir
W. Birdwood, accompanied by Sir A. Godley and General Cox, visited
their bivouac. He congratulated them on their gallantry, and promised
them four days’ rest, after which he intended to call on them for
another attack. Sir A. Godley and General Cox were also warm in their
congratulations.
Nor was the applause of their comrades lacking, since the Australians
and New Zealanders were loud in their praises of the dash and
courage of the battalion. This memory long continued with them. More
than three months later, Mr. John Redmond, M.P., was showing a party
of Australian convalescents over the House of Commons, and asked them
if they had seen anything of the 10th (Irish) Division. They replied
that they had, and in their opinion the charge made by the Connaught
Rangers at Kaba Kuyu was the finest thing they had seen in the War.
This praise was worth having, since no men on earth are better able
to appreciate courage and are less prone to be imposed upon than the
Australians. They have no use for paper reputations; they judge only
by what they have seen with their own eyes. Tried by this exacting
standard, the Rangers were none the less able to abide it.
While the attack on Kaba Kuyu and Hill 60 was being executed the
10th Hampshires were carrying out their feint. They achieved their
object in distracting the enemy’s attention, but, unfortunately,
incurred heavy losses. Major Morley, the Commanding Officer, was
wounded, and Captain Hellyer, the only officer of the battalion
who had come through the stiff fighting on Sari Bair on the 10th
unhurt, was killed. The casualties among the rank and file amounted
to close on a hundred and fifty. Nor had the Connaught Rangers come
off lightly, having lost twelve officers and over two hundred and
fifty men. It is interesting to note how much more severely units
suffer in modern war than a hundred years ago. Under Wellington in
Spain and Portugal, the Connaught Rangers played a distinguished part
in many great battles and sieges. At Busaco, in company with half
a battalion of the 45th Foot, they charged and routed the eleven
battalions of Merle’s French Division. They attacked the great breach
at Ciudad Rodrigo, and stormed the Castle of Badajoz. At Salamanca,
in company with the other two battalions of Wallace’s Brigade, they
crossed bayonets with Thomieres’ Division and drove eight battalions
off the field in disorder. All these were famous engagements, and in
them the 88th deservedly won great glory, yet in none of them were
their losses as heavy as those incurred by their newly-formed service
battalion in the little-known engagement at Kaba Kuyu.[3]
Elsewhere the issue of the fighting had not been propitious to our
arms, since in spite of the never-failing courage of the 29th
Division and the magnificent gallantry displayed by the Yeomen,
the attacks made from Suvla had failed. The losses were terribly
heavy, a very brave Irish Brigadier-General, the Earl of Longford,
K.P., having fallen in the forefront of the battle. In consequence
of these heavy casualties it was impossible to conduct further
offensive operations at Suvla until reinforcements should arrive.
It was, however, eminently desirable to effect the capture of Hill
60, since it constituted a perpetual menace to the Suvla-Anzac
line of communication. So long as the Turks were able to maintain
their position on its crest, not only were they able to enfilade
the trenches at Suvla, but also they possessed the power of massing
troops behind it and launching them suddenly against our line. They
were fully aware of the advantage which this gave them, and had made
the defence of the hill extremely strong.
It was determined to make an assault on this position at 5 p.m. on
August the 27th. Brigadier-General Russell was placed in command
of the assaulting parties, which consisted of 350 Australians who
formed the right attack, 300 New Zealanders and 100 Australians, who
composed the attack on the centre, and 250 Connaught Rangers, who
formed the left attack. By this time units at Anzac were so reduced
by casualties and sickness that instead of merely detailing units
the numbers required were also specified. At the time the orders were
issued the Rangers could only muster seven officers, three hundred
men, and of these more than half the officers, and a large proportion
of the men were suffering from dysentery or enteritis.
The Australians were to attack the trenches running to the base of
the hill in a south-easterly direction. The New Zealanders had as
their objective the summit of Hill 60 itself, while the Rangers were
given as their objective the system of trenches running from the
crest northwards towards Anafarta. At 3 p.m. the assaulting parties
of the Rangers filed down the sap, which had been dug to connect Kaba
Kuyu with South Wales Borderers’ Gully, and into the trenches round
the well which they had captured a week earlier. They were narrow and
were manned by the Indian Brigade so that progress was slow, but by 4
p.m. the storming party of fifty men had reached the point from which
the left assault was to commence.
At four the bombardment began. Ships, howitzers, mountain-guns, all
combined to create a babel which if less intense than that of the
previous week, was nevertheless sufficiently formidable. The trenches
were so close to one another that our troops waiting to advance were
covered with dust from the high explosives, but no injury was done.
At last, at five, the bombardment ceased and the stormers, led by
Lieutenant S. H. Lewis, went over the top. They were into the Turkish
trenches almost before the enemy were aware of their coming and
forced their way along them with bayonet and bomb. The supporting
parties, however, were not so fortunate. The range to the parapet
from whence they started was accurately known to the enemy, and from
every part of the trench which was not actually under assault violent
machine-gun and rifle fire opened. Man after man as he climbed over
the parapet fell back into the trench dead, yet the next man calmly
stepped forward to take his place. One old soldier, a company cook,
Private Glavey, of Athlone, as his turn came, said: “I have three
sons fighting in France and one of them has got the D.C.M. Let’s see
if the old father can’t get it now,” and advanced to meet the common
fate.
Now, too, the enemy’s artillery opened, and as, unmenaced elsewhere,
they were able to concentrate all their forces on the defence of
Hill 60, their fire was terrific. Incessant salvoes of shrapnel
burst overhead, while the parapet of the trench from which the
advance was taking place was blown in by high explosive. Yet, still,
the men went on over the parapet and gradually a few succeeded in
struggling through the barrage, and in reinforcing their comrades in
the captured trench. There a stern struggle was taking place, but by
dint of hard hand-to-hand bayonet fighting the Turks were driven out,
and at six p.m. the Rangers had carried the whole of their objective.
The Australians on the right had encountered concentrated machine-gun
fire and had been unable to make any progress, but the New Zealanders
had carried the trenches on the southern side of the crest and a few
of them had worked along and joined up with the Rangers. When night
fell the whole of the southern face of the hill was in British hands,
but the Turks were not disposed to acquiesce in this decision. As
there was no indication of any attack elsewhere, they were free to
use the bulk of their reserves at Hill 60, and wave after wave of
assailants hurled itself on the position. There was a half moon which
enabled the outlines of the charges to be seen as the mass of Turks
surged forward preluding their onset with a shower of bombs. The
Rangers suffered particularly badly in this respect, since parallel
to the trench they held ran two newly-dug Turkish communication
trenches which were within bombing distance. There were not enough
men available to assault these trenches or to hold them if they were
taken, for the losses in the attack had been heavy. It was true
that the remainder of the Connaught Rangers had been sent up as a
reinforcement, but this only amounted to forty-four men, most of
whom were weakened by dysentery.
Again and again, the Turks attacked, mad with fanaticism, shrieking
at the top of their voices and calling on Allah. The Irish, however,
were not impressed. As one Connaught Ranger put it, “they came on
shouting and calling for a man named Allen, and there was no man
of that name in the trench at all.” Still, however, the merciless
bombing continued and the trenches slowly became encumbered with
dead. It was a soldiers’ battle: every officer but one on the
Rangers’ position was wounded, and in any case the trench was so
blocked with débris from the bombardment and Turkish and Irish
corpses, that it became almost impossible to move from point to
point. Lieutenant Lewis who had led the charge, was wounded in two
places. He had himself lifted on to the parapet in the hope of being
able to make his way down to the dressing-station, but was never seen
again.
At last about 10.30 p.m., after the fight had lasted five hours, a
crowd of Turks succeeded in entering the Rangers’ trench near its
northern extremity. This northern end was held by a small party of
men who died where they stood. The remainder of the trench was,
however, blocked and further progress by the enemy arrested. Still
the fight raged and bombs and ammunition were running short, while
the losses became so heavy that it was growing harder and harder to
procure. Major Money, who was in command of the advanced position,
sent for reinforcements, but found that they were unobtainable.
Fresh Turkish attacks kept coming on, and for every assailant that
was struck down, two more sprang up in his place. It was clear that
soon the defenders would be swept away by force of numbers, and they
were compelled at midnight to fall back to the southern end of the
captured trench. This point they blocked with a sandbag barricade
and held until at last they were relieved at 8.30 a.m. on the 28th.
Five hours earlier the 9th Australian Light Horse had attempted to
recover the trench from which the Rangers had been driven, but found
that the Turks were too strong. It was not until the 29th that a
combined attack launched from the position which the New Zealanders
had taken and had been able to hold, finally established our line on
the northern slopes of Hill 60.
The Turkish losses were enormous and were nearly all inflicted in
fighting at close quarters. The captures from them included three
machine-guns, three trench mortars and 60,000 rounds of small-arm
ammunition, while Sir Ian Hamilton estimated that 5,000 Turks had
been killed and wounded. When it is remembered that the total
strength of our attacking columns was under a thousand, and that the
reinforcements received in the course of the fight barely reached
that figure, it will be realized that each of our men must have
disposed of at least two of his opponents. Unfortunately, our losses
were by no means small: of 250 Connaught Rangers who charged over the
parapet on the 27th, less than a hundred returned unwounded.
The battalion had, however, no reason on this occasion to complain of
lack of official recognition, since Sir Ian Hamilton in his official
despatch paid an eloquent tribute to the deeds of the Connaught
Rangers. His words may be quoted:
“On the left the 250 men of the 5th Connaught Rangers excited
the admiration of all beholders by the swiftness and cohesion of
their charge. In five minutes they had carried their objective,
the northern Turkish communications, when they at once set to and
began a lively bomb fight along the trenches against strong parties
which came hurrying up from the enemy supports and afterwards from
their reserves. At midnight fresh troops were to have strengthened
our grip on the hill, but before that hour the Irishmen had been
out-bombed.”
That the battalion acquitted itself so well was in the main due to
the manner in which it had been trained by its Commanding Officer,
Lieut.-Colonel Jourdain. He thoroughly understood the men with
whom he had to deal, and had instilled into all ranks a rigid but
sympathetic discipline which proved invaluable in time of trial. He
was unwearied in working for the comfort of his men, and was repaid
not only by their respect and affection, but by a well-earned C.M.G.
CHAPTER VIII
ROUTINE
“Scars given and taken without spite or shame, for the Turk be it
said is always at his best at that game.”
—_G. K. Chesterton._
Before continuing to describe the doings of the 30th and 31st
Brigades after their withdrawal from the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, a word
must be said about the units which were attached to them, the Pioneer
Battalion, the Royal Engineers and the Field Ambulances. Details of
the movements of these units are hard to obtain, but it would not be
fair to overlook them.
The Pioneer Battalion, the 5th Royal Irish Regiment, was trained as
an infantry unit but also received instruction in engineering work,
especially in road-making. The majority of its men were miners or
artificers and its function was to do the odd jobs of the Division
and also to provide a guard for Divisional Headquarters. On the
Peninsula, however, these duties soon fell into abeyance, since it
was called on to fill up gaps in the line, and did so eagerly. It
was an exceptionally fine battalion, formed by Lord Granard, whose
ancestor, Sir Arthur Forbes, had first raised the 18th (Royal Irish)
two hundred and thirty years before, and possessed an unusually large
proportion of Regular officers. Fighting under difficult conditions,
usually by detached companies, it did well wherever it was engaged,
losing Lieutenants Costello and MacAndrew killed, and Major Fulda,
Captain Morel, and half-a-dozen subalterns wounded.
The Engineers at Suvla, as everywhere, fully justified the splendid
reputation of their corps. Few braver actions were noted in the
Division than Lieutenant Waller’s rescue of three wounded men on the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt, and throughout the campaign the Sappers defied
danger and did their duty.
The 30th Field Ambulance, which disembarked at Suvla without its
bearer section on the afternoon of the 7th, was, for the first ten
days of the campaign, working single-handed. Then the 31st and 32nd
arrived and the pressure became less, but all the ambulances were
working under great difficulties. There was little room for them,
they had been unable to bring all their stores with them, and, as
will be told later, medical comforts were conspicuous by their
absence. In spite of these handicaps, they had to deal, not only with
a very large number of wounded, but with a never ceasing flow of
sick. The doctors, however, did admirable work and everyone was loud
in praise of the Ambulance stretcher-bearers who used regularly to go
out under heavy fire across the plain to bring in the wounded.
After the close of the fighting on August 17th, what was left of
the 30th and 31st Brigades was withdrawn to the rest-camp on the
beach at Suvla. The fighting had reduced their strength terribly
and nearly three-quarters of the officers and half the men who had
landed ten days earlier, had fallen or been invalided. Worst of all,
was the fact that, owing to so many senior N.C.O.’s having been hit,
the internal organization of units had been practically destroyed.
An extemporized Company Quartermaster-Sergeant, who possesses
no previous knowledge of his work, will rarely be successful in
promoting the comfort and efficiency of his men, however hard he may
try. Matters were made even more serious by the continued sickness,
which became worse and worse when units were withdrawn from the front
line. Many who had been able to force their will power to keep them
going on, while actually opposed to the enemy, now succumbed, and
among them an officer, whose departure inflicted a serious loss on
the Division as a whole and on the 31st Brigade in particular.
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL J. G. KING-KING, D.S.O.]
On August 22nd, General Hill, who had been in bad health ever since
landing in Gallipoli, was invalided, suffering from acute dysentery.
His departure was deeply regretted by his Brigade, who had learnt
to admire his coolness and courage, and to appreciate his constant
attention to their comfort. Though the Staff Captain of the Brigade,
Captain T. J. D. Atkinson, had been wounded on the 16th, fortunately
the Brigade-Major, Captain Cooke-Collis, still remained, and as the
command was taken over by Colonel King-King the General Staff Officer
(1) of the Division, officers and men did not feel that they had to
deal with a stranger.
It was marvellous how many men who were in bad health, resisted
the temptation to go sick and be sent on board the white hospital
ships, where there was shade and ice and plenty to drink. No man was
invalided who was not sick, but there were very few people doing duty
in Gallipoli who did not from time to time possess a temperature,
and none whose stomachs were not periodically out of order. The
doctors did their utmost to retain men with their units, but all
medical comforts were difficult to obtain, even condensed milk being
precious, and to feed men sickening for dysentery on tinned meat,
is to ask for trouble. Rice was a great stand-by, though the men
did not much appreciate it unless it was boiled in milk. It was
therefore inevitable that men reporting sick should be sent to the
field ambulances, and since these were little better off than the
regimental M.O.’s so far as provision for special diet was concerned,
and since their resources were overtaxed, it followed that it was
almost invariably necessary to send invalids away overseas. Though
all ranks belonging to them showed the utmost devotion to duty, and
worked till they were worn out, a field-ambulance at Suvla was not a
place in which a quick recovery could be made. True, it had tents,
and it is hard to appreciate the amount of solid comfort offered by
a tent to one who has spent weeks in the open under a tropical sun.
There were also a certain number of beds, and it was very pleasant to
find doctors and orderlies taking an interest in you, and doing their
best to make you comfortable.
There were, however, discomforts which they were powerless to remove.
One was the swarm of flies which made sleep by day impossible, and
another was the shortage of water. The worst, however, was the enemy
fire: for although the Turk respected the Red Cross flag, yet the
hospitals were close to the beach, and not far from some of our
batteries, which naturally drew the enemy’s artillery. The sound of
the shells rushing through the air, and the shock of their explosion
were plainly heard and felt by the patients in hospital, and threw an
additional strain on nerves that were already worn out. It could not
be helped; there was no room on the peninsula to put hospitals at a
distance from fighting troops, but it was very hard on the sick and
wounded.
Gradually, however, things grew better. Medical comforts began to be
forthcoming; fresh bread was baked at Imbros and sent across, milk
was less scarce, and a few eggs were issued not only to hospitals,
but in some cases to medical officers of battalions. They also
obtained a compound known as tinned fowl, which appeared to consist
entirely of bones. Fly whisks and veils were provided by the British
Red Cross, an organization to which the soldier owes more than he
will ever be able to say. By the flexibility of its management, and
its freedom from red tape, it has done wonders to secure the speedier
recovery of our wounded.
The rest-camp to which the residue of the nine battalions came, was
somewhat of a jest. It was situated on the beach, and consisted of
a collection of shallow dug-outs burrowed into the yielding sand.
As it was close to some of the extemporized piers at which the
lighters bearing the rations and ammunition were unloaded, and was
in the neighbourhood of the A.S.C. and Ordnance Depôts, it naturally
attracted a good share of the shells which the Turks directed at
those points, and casualties were by no means infrequent. However,
the men were able to take off the clothes which they had worn for
nearly a fortnight, and wash. Some shaved, but others thought it
waste of time and also of the more precious water. Bathing was
possible, for the sea was close by, and the delight of plunging into
the warm sparkling sea was hardly diminished by the thought that a
Turkish shell might possibly find you out as you did so.
The period in the rest-camp gave an opportunity of writing home,
and describing, as far as the censorship permitted, the events of
the previous week. It was clear that the first attempt at Suvla had
not been successful, but reinforcements were arriving nightly, a
new General (Major-General H. B. de Lisle) had taken over command
of the 9th Corps, and everyone was hoping for eventual success. In
this they were much assisted by rumour, which produced scores of
encouraging “shaves.” Occasionally one heard that General Botha with
a large force of Boers, had landed at Helles, but the favourite and
apparently best-authenticated report, was that an army of 150,000
Italians had landed at Bulair and were taking the Turks in reverse.
It did not seem to occur to any of those who circulated this report
that their guns must have been heard at Suvla if they were really
doing so. By this time, however, most sensible people had discovered
that nothing is ever so thoroughly well-authenticated as a thoroughly
baseless rumour, and believed nothing that they were told. At any
rate the “_canards_” gave a subject for conversation, and helped to
pass the time.
On August 21st, General de Lisle proposed to take the offensive
again, having been reinforced from Egypt and Helles. Although the
Turks had by now brought up ample reinforcements, and carefully
entrenched their whole line, it was thought that it might be possible
to capture Ismail Oglu Tepe, a wooded hill, which buttressed the
Khoja Chemen Tepe. This attack General de Lisle entrusted to the
11th and 29th Divisions, the latter being on the left. The 53rd
and 54th Territorial Divisions were to hold the remainder of the
line northwards to the Gulf of Saros, including the trenches on the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt. The newly-landed 2nd Mounted Division (Yeomanry)
and the two brigades of the 10th Division, which had suffered so
heavily in the previous fighting as to be almost unfit for further
aggressive action, were placed in Corps Reserve. At the same time the
co-operation of the Anzac troops, which took the form of the attack
on Kaba Kuyu and Hill 60, and was described in the previous chapter,
was arranged for.
The 10th Division was disposed as follows:—
The 31st Brigade, which was allotted as reserve to the 29th Division,
formed up behind Hill 10 on the northern shores of the Salt Lake.
There was very little cover, and the 6th Inniskilling Fusiliers,
who found themselves in rear of one of our batteries, suffered
severely from the shell fire with which the Turks retaliated on it.
The 30th Brigade were at Lala Baba at the south-western angle of
the Lake. At 3 p.m. the attack was launched, and the front line of
Turkish trenches were occupied. Atmospheric conditions, however,
were unfavourable, and further progress was only made with great
difficulty, the 11th Division, which had been much weakened by
previous fighting, finding it almost impossible to get on. The
reserves were then called up, and the Yeomen went forward across the
bare shell-swept plain.
[Illustration: 5TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS IN THE TRENCHES
_Official photograph issued on behalf of the Press Bureau, Crown
copyright reserved_]
The long extended lines suffered heavily as they moved forward to
a position in rear of Chocolate Hill, but though they were young
troops who had never been in action before, there was no wavering,
and the formation was preserved throughout. About the same time
the 30th Brigade received orders to advance and occupy the Turkish
trenches, which had been captured at the commencement of operations.
As they moved forward to do this they, too, came under a heavy
fire of shrapnel and sustained numerous casualties, among them
being Lieut.-Col. Worship, of the 6th Munster Fusiliers, who was
wounded in the foot. The most active part in these operations,
however, so far as the 10th Division was concerned, was taken by
the stretcher-bearers of the three Field Ambulances, who had just
arrived. Again and again they went out over the shell-swept plain,
picking up the wounded of the 11th and 29th Divisions, and bringing
them back to the hospitals on the beach. The work was not only
hot and heavy, but dangerous, since although the Turk proved a fair
fighter on the whole and respected the Red Cross, yet his shrapnel
could not discriminate between fighters and non-combatants. Good
and plucky work done on this occasion earned the D.C.M. for Staff
Sergeant Hughes and Corporal Fitch, of the 30th Field Ambulance.
On the following day, the two brigades moved southward, and took over
the front line trenches, the two Inniskilling battalions being just
north of Chocolate Hill, with the Royal Irish Fusiliers on their
right, and the 30th Brigade prolonging the line to the southward.
At the same time, Divisional Headquarters were transferred from
the Kiretch Tepe Sirt to Lala Baba. While the Division was holding
this southern sector, it very nearly came in touch with part of its
detached Brigade operating to the north of Anzac; and the 6th Dublin
Fusiliers from their trenches were able to watch the charge of the
5th Connaught Rangers on August 27th. The 29th Brigade, however,
remained under the orders of the Anzac Command.
After the fight of the 27th-28th of August, described in the last
chapter, this Brigade also became incapable of further aggressive
action. Every battalion had lost about three-quarters of its
strength, while the casualties in the commissioned ranks had been
exceptionally heavy. Sickness was bad here, as elsewhere, and early
in September three out of the four units composing the Brigade had
only two officers apiece left. The 6th Leinsters were in better case;
but even with them, sickness was taking its toll—Major Currey, the
C.O., being one of the victims. He was succeeded by Major Colquhoun.
The battalion remained with the New Zealand and Australian Division,
doing duty in the trenches at “Russell’s Top” until August 26th, when
it withdrew to Anzac and joined the Royal Irish Rifles in “Reserve
Gully.”
The Rifles and Hampshires, which suffered terribly in the Sari Bair
fighting, were retained behind the Aghyl Dere line for about a week
after the 10th August. Then the Rifles returned to Anzac, where it
took up its quarters in Reserve Gully. After the feint attack on
August 21st, in which they suffered so heavily, the 10th Hampshires
were also withdrawn to the beach, bivouacking near No. 2 Post. The
Brigade was completed by the arrival of the 5th Connaught Rangers,
who, after the assault on Hill 60 on the 27th August, remained in
reserve for a week and then moved back to a bivouac on Bauchop’s Hill.
Though two companies of the Royal Irish Rifles were lent to General
Walker, of the Australians, and did duty for him for three weeks,
the bulk of the Brigade were employed on fatigue duties. These
included road-making, unloading ration boats, and guarding Turkish
prisoners. The work was hard, the sun still hot, and the enemy’s
shells did not spare the fatigue parties, but casualties were not
heavy.
During this period the 29th Brigade received a new commander. Colonel
Agnew returned to Mudros on September 9th, and on the 22nd September
Brigadier-General R. S. Vandeleur, C.M.G., who had come from the
Seaforth Highlanders in France, took over command. Major T. G.
Anderson, R.F.A., had previously been appointed Brigade-Major.
While in many respects fighting in Gallipoli was more unpleasant than
in France or Flanders, yet its trench warfare had certain advantages
over that engaged in there. Though the heat by day and the cold by
night were trying, yet there was but little rain, and it was easy to
keep the trenches dry. Except on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt and close to
the sea, the soil was firm, so that the sides of trenches did not
require much revetment, and repairs were not constantly called for.
Above all, the character of the enemy gave the defender an easier
time.
The Turk is inflexibly stubborn in defence, and when stirred up to
make a mass attack, he appears fearless of death: but he is not an
enterprising foe. Except at one or two points—notably at Apex and
at Quinn’s Post in the Anzac area, where the opposing trench lines
were close together, and trench mortars and bomb-throwers raged
perpetually—he was content to leave the enemy to the attention of
his snipers. These, of course, were persistent and ingenious, and
any point in a trench which could be overlooked, either from a tree
or from high ground in the enemy’s lines, required to be specially
defended. Otherwise, however, the Turk was not much disposed to
institute aggressive enterprises, and his bombardments, though
intensely annoying, and causing a good many casualties, were not
to be compared in intensity with those employed by the Germans in
Flanders.
Trench life, however much its details may be mitigated, is none the
less painfully monotonous, and in the Peninsula there were none of
the distractions sometimes experienced on the Western Front. There
were only two breaks in the tedium: the arrival of the mail and a
visit from a chaplain. The latter should perhaps have precedence,
both out of respect for his cloth and because it happened more
frequently. Walking about at Anzac and Suvla was neither pleasant
nor safe; but the chaplains were quite indefatigable, and would walk
any distance and brave any danger in order to visit the units to
which they were attached. By dint of untiring endeavour, the Church
of England and Roman Catholic chaplains used, as a rule, to hold a
service for each of the battalions in their charge on Sunday, and one
during the week as well. Sometimes these services took place right
up in the firing line, the celebrant moving along the trench to each
communicant in turn. It was in this manner Canon McLean celebrated
Holy Communion for the 6th and 7th Dublins an hour before the advance
on the 15th of August. Often, too, the priests were able to give
absolution to their flock before they went into action. Besides doing
this, the Roman Catholic chaplains heard confessions regularly, and
all denominations were indefatigable in ministering to the sick.
Apart, however, from the spiritual side of the question, the mere
presence of the “Padre” himself was stimulating. The Division
had been exceptionally fortunate in its chaplains. The robust
cheerfulness of Father Murphy, the recondite knowledge of Father
Stafford, Father O’Farrell’s boyish keenness, and the straightforward
charm that made Father O’Connor such a good sportsman and such a
good friend, were coupled with a fearlessness and devotion to duty
common to all, that made them beloved by their own flock and liked
and respected by those of other creeds. There was but little colour
in Gallipoli; grey olives, bleached scrub and parched sand combined
to make a picture in monotone, and, even to the Protestant eye it was
grateful to see, as the one gleam of colour in a dreary landscape,
the shining golden chasuble of the priest as he celebrated Mass.
Few who beheld those services will ever forget them; the circle
of kneeling worshippers, the robed figure in the centre, the long
shadows cast by the newly-risen sun, and the drone of the shells
passing through the air overhead, made an ineffaceable impression on
the mind.
Nor were the Protestant chaplains behind their Roman Catholic
colleagues in zeal and cheerfulness. The Reverend S. Hutchinson
in the 31st Brigade, and the Reverend J. W. Crozier (a son of the
Primate of All Ireland) in the 29th, worked untiringly and devotedly
for the good of the men who belonged to the Church of England. Nor
should the Reverend F. J. Roche, who was Church of England Chaplain
to the Divisional Troops, be forgotten. Originally, he was sent to
Cairo with the Artillery of the Division; but he had seen service
in South Africa in the Imperial Yeomanry, and was mad to get into
the firing line once more. By dint of many entreaties and much
ingenuity, he finally succeeded in reaching Suvla on August 29th,
and laboured unceasingly with the Pioneers and Royal Engineers. He
was a man of exceptionally high character, and all who knew him were
grieved when two days before the Division left the Peninsula he was
invalided with dysentery. Unfortunately, the attack was a severe one,
and after rallying slightly he died in hospital at Alexandria. The
Presbyterian and Methodist chaplains, too, did excellent work, though
since their flock was so widely scattered they had less opportunity
of becoming personally known to those outside it.
The jewel of the Protestant chaplains, however, was Canon McLean.
Although he must have been nearly sixty years of age, and was
probably the oldest man in the Division, he had the heart of a boy
and the courage of a lion. No dangers or hardships were too great for
him to endure, and his one regret was that his cloth did not permit
him to lead his Brigade in a charge. He had, too, the more valuable
form of courage—the power of patient endurance, for though seriously
ill with dysentery, he absolutely refused to go sick and leave his
men. There were many brave fellows in the Division, but none gained a
greater reputation for courage than Canon McLean.
The second great alleviation of the monotony of trench life was the
arrival of the mail. In France, this happens daily, and is taken as a
matter of course; but in Gallipoli it rarely arrived more often than
once a week, and great joy was felt in the battalions when Brigade
headquarters telephoned that a mail was coming up. Expectation grew,
until at last the Indian _drabis_ led up their grunting mules, and
deposited the mail-bags at the door of the Headquarters dug-out.
Orderly sergeants of the companies were at once summoned, and the
slow process of sorting began—a process made even slower by the fact
that in many cases the writers had not indicated anything more than
the name of the addressee, and that it took a considerable time in an
Irish regiment to ascertain which Private Kelly was meant.
“The postmark’s Glasgow. Is either of your Kelly’s a Scotsman,
Sergeant McGrath?” the Adjutant would say.
“They are not, sorr. One’s a Mayo man and the other’s from Dublin.
Try ‘B’ Company, sorr.”
The Orderly Sergeant of “B” also disclaims any Scotch Kelly, but is
reminded by the signalling sergeant of a Glasgow man of that name
who went sick from Mudros. Repeated _ad infinitum_ this process
takes time, and it was long before the officer who had undertaken
the sorting could turn to his own correspondence. Then followed the
painful task of returning the letters that could not be delivered.
These were sent back from companies to the orderly-room and were
there sorted into three piles:—
Dead,
Missing, and
Hospital.
The officer then endorsed each, writing the word in an indelible
pencil, always dreading that by some accident this might be the
first intimation of the casualty that the sender of the letter had
received. The “Hospital” letters, of course, were not returned to
the writer, but were sent in pursuit of the addressee round Mudros,
Malta, and Alexandria, usually returning to the Battalion after he
had rejoined it.
Nor did one’s own mail consist entirely of personal letters, for
the officers who survived found themselves in September receiving
many letters from the relatives of their comrades who had fallen
begging for details of how they died. These letters were not easy to
answer, since details were often lacking, and the writer was always
afraid of inadvertently opening the wound again; but it was a labour
of love to reply to them. More amusing semi-official letters were
also received, such as the demands of railway companies for sums of
three-and-sixpence due by men who had travelled without tickets four
months earlier. As even supposing the men in question had not been
killed or wounded, they had certainly received no pay for more than
a month, and were unlikely to receive any for an indefinite period,
so the prospect that the Company Officer would be able to recover the
debts before being killed or wounded himself did not seem large.
With the mail came newspapers and sometimes parcels. The latter
were specially welcome, since they served to fill up the nakedness
of the officers’ mess, and as a rule they arrived safely when sent
by parcels post. Complaints of non-arrival of parcels were indeed
frequent, but in most cases this was caused either by inaccurate
addressing, or by careless packing. Very seldom was a parcels
mail-bag opened for sorting at the battalion without the bottom
being found to be filled with broken cigarettes, crumbs of crushed
cake, and a mass of cardboard, brown paper and string. It must be
remembered that the mails had to stand a good deal of rough handling.
The bags were sent by ship to Alexandria, then thrown on to a lorry
and jolted over the stony streets to the Base Post Office, there
sorted, sent on shipboard again, conveyed to Mudros, transhipped to
Suvla, Anzac, or Helles, thrown overboard on to a lighter, dumped on
the beach, and finally carried up to their destination on the back of
a pack mule. It was not astonishing that a parcel was occasionally
crushed, or even that a bag sometimes fell into the sea. Under normal
conditions, however, parcels usually arrived safely.
The arrival of parcels meant a welcome addition to mess stores,
for although the A.S.C. had recovered from the natural confusion
caused by the operations at the beginning of August, and rations
were regular and plentiful, yet the diet became painfully dull. It
must be remembered that in Gallipoli, unlike the Western Front,
there was absolutely no possibility of using the resources of the
country. In France, it is often possible to buy eggs, butter, and
perhaps a chicken, not to speak of wine or beer; but on the Peninsula
there was literally nothing obtainable. From Suvla the distant
houses of the Anafartas mocked the eye with the sight of human
habitations; but Anzac was literally a desert. The map, it is true,
marked a spot as “Fisherman’s Hut,” but both fishermen and their
nets had departed, and the huts had fallen into ruin. Nor did Nature
supply anything—except where the trampled stubble told of a ruined
cornfield, all was barren, dry scrub, and prickly holly and bare,
thankless sand. With such destitution all round, it was no wonder
that the post was eagerly looked for.
The most welcome gift of all was tinned fruit, since these and the
syrup that came with them quenched thirst. Lemonade tablets, too,
were welcome, and sauces and curry-powders to disguise the taste of
the eternal bully beef, were much appreciated. Some things failed to
stand the climate; chocolate usually arrived in a liquid condition,
while a parcel of butter became a greasy rag. (It must be borne in
mind while reading this description of life in Gallipoli that the
Expeditionary Force Canteens were not established there till after
the 10th Division had left the Peninsula. They did a great deal to
fill the want, though it was almost impossible to keep them properly
stocked.)
Although life in September was distinctly less trying than it was in
August, yet it had its disadvantages. Among them was the fact that
wherever a battalion occupied an old Turkish bivouac, it found that
the enemy had left behind a peculiarly ferocious breed of flea. There
were other minor annoyances in washing; but the main disadvantage
of Gallipoli unquestionably was the uncertainty of life. The whole
Peninsula was exposed to shell fire, and much of it to snipers as
well, and though some places were less dangerous than others, it was
impossible ever to feel that one was safe. Every day almost one heard
of a fresh casualty. Now an orderly was hit as he brought a message;
now a cook fell as he bent over his fire; another day the storeman
looking after kits on the beach was killed; or a shell made havoc
among a party drawing rations or water.
Drawing rations was one of the most dangerous occupations on the
Peninsula, especially at Anzac, and was usually performed at the
double. The beaches, where the supply depôts were situated, were
among the enemy’s favourite targets, as they knew that there were
always people moving there, and they shelled them persistently. In
France, the A.S.C. are said to have safe and “cushy” jobs; but this
was certainly not the case in Gallipoli. Their work, in addition
to being dangerous, was not exciting, which made things worse; for
though Death is the same wherever he comes, it is easier to encounter
him in a charge than when cutting up bacon. The memory of the courage
of their representatives at Suvla and Anzac should always be a proud
one with the A.S.C.
But though the beaches were particularly nasty spots, there was no
escaping from Death anywhere. If one took a walk one was almost
certain to pass a festering and fly-blown mule, or a heap of
equipment that showed where a man had been wounded. At one point a
barricade of sandbags suggested that it was wise to keep in close
to them, at another a deep sap had been dug to allow secure passage
through an area commanded by the Chunuk Bair. The blind impartiality
of shrapnel spared no one: the doctor of one battalion sent a man
to hospital who was suffering from bronchitis, and was surprised to
discover afterwards that when admitted he was suffering from a wound
in the right arm which he had acquired on the way down. Even if one
remained in one’s own bivouac or trench, there was no assurance of
safety. It was always possible that a sudden shell might catch one
outside one’s dug-out and finish one. Several fell in this way,
among them one of the finest officers in the Division, Major N. C.
K. Money of the Connaught Rangers. He was a magnificent soldier,
always cool and resourceful, and had made his mark on every occasion
on which his battalion was engaged. After coming untouched through
three stiff fights, and being awarded the D.S.O. for his courage and
capacity, he was mortally wounded in bivouac by an unexpected burst
of shrapnel. It was a miserable end for one who had done so much, and
was destined, had he lived, to do so much more.
After a few weeks on the Peninsula one grew into a fatalistic mood.
Most of one’s friends had already been knocked out, and it seemed
impossible that in the long run anyone could escape. Sooner or later
the shrapnel was bound to get you, unless dysentery or enteric got
you first. If you were unlucky, you would be killed; if lucky, you
would get a wound that would send you either home, or at any rate to
Malta or Alexandria, or some other civilized place. Only one thing
seemed out of the question, and that was that one should see the end
of the campaign. Certainly very few of us did.
CHAPTER IX
LAST DAYS
“It is better not to begin than never to finish.”
—_Serbian Proverb._
At the beginning of September a portion of the Divisional Artillery
arrived in the Peninsula. The three brigades (54th, 55th and 56th)
which sailed from England with the Division, had been landed at
Alexandria and sent into camp near Cairo. Rumour had assured the
remainder of the Division that they were ultimately destined for
Aden, but in this as in almost every other instance, rumour lied.
After about three weeks in Egypt, where a certain number of horses
died as the result of eating sand which caused colic, the 55th and
56th Brigades were transferred to Mudros and thence without their
horses to the Peninsula. The 55th Brigade went to Cape Helles, where
it took up a position near the Great Gully with its sixteen guns
crowded closely together, and suffered a good deal in that congested
area from the enemy’s shell fire. This brigade was definitely
removed from the Division and had no further dealings with it. The
56th Brigade, on the other hand, came to the Suvla area, though it
did not actually rejoin the Division. Gun positions were not very
easy to discover, but the “A” and “B” Batteries of the Brigade came
into action below Lala Baba. “C” Battery was out on the plain in a
low-lying spot, which was flooded out by the November blizzard, while
“D” Battery moved southward into the Anzac area. Here they took up a
position on the Damakjelik Bair near the South Wales Borderers’ Gully
facing northward, which enabled them to enfilade the Turkish trenches
on Scimitar Hill, and did excellent work. The whole Brigade remained
in its positions when the rest of the Division left the Peninsula,
and did not depart till the final evacuation of Suvla and Anzac.
They consequently definitely severed their connection with the 10th
Division.
Throughout September the days passed with monotonous regularity.
The routine of trench work, and the telling off and supervision of
fatigue parties did not do much to occupy the imagination, and plenty
of time was spent gazing out over the sea to Imbros and Samothrace
and wondering what was going to happen next. There did not seem much
prospect of an advance but it was never easy for junior officers and
men to tell what was brewing.
[Illustration: IMBROS FROM ANZAC
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
It was somewhat trying to the nerves to know that one was never
certain that one would not be required at a moment’s notice. Even
when nominally resting behind the line units were frequently
obliged to stand to in consequence of an alarm of some kind. By
this time, blankets and officers’ valises had been retrieved, but
one felt that one was tempting Providence if one undressed or even
took off one’s boots at night, for one was always liable to be
roused suddenly. The Turks, during this period, were not in at all
an aggressive mood, but they too, were subject to nerves, and used
occasionally to open fire all along the line for no particular
reason. Except for these spasms of nervousness, however, they
confined their attention to sniping, intermittent shelling, and where
the trenches were very close together, to trench mortar work and
bombing.
Two minor distractions were the swallows and the “Peninsula Press.”
In August Anzac was a singularly birdless place; in fact except
for one cornfield the area had no sign of life of any kind in it.
About the middle of September, however, it was invaded by troops of
swallows on their way southward, and every gully was full of diving,
swooping birds. They brought back many memories of home and of warm
Spring evenings and long twilights, and it was a pleasure to watch
them circling past the dug-outs. They did not seem to mind the shell
fire, and there was much discussion as to whether they would winter
in Gallipoli, but we did not remain in the Peninsula long enough to
make sure.
The other alleviation of the dulness was a half-sheet of news issued
by the Authority and entitled “The Peninsula Press.” The perusal of
this piece of foolscap, which was printed at Army Headquarters and
sent to units with more or less regularity, was sufficient to fill
one with admiration for the art and mystery of journalism. It was
surprising how different the string of communiqués and bulletins
served up raw without amplification or comment was from the newspaper
that one had been accustomed to. For the first time one realized the
enormous importance of sub-editing. Nor were the communiqués very
informing, since for the most part they dealt with Polish towns whose
names had never been heard of before by any of us. An atlas was a
possession extremely rare in Gallipoli, so we were compelled to take
the bulk of the news on trust and hope for the best.
Another minor inconvenience was lack of exercise. In the early days
of August there had been no reason to complain on this score, but
by the time that we had settled down to routine work in September,
many found it hard to keep in condition. Unless you went out with a
fatigue party ration-carrying or road-making, your work was confined
to a comparatively small area. Walks for the sake of exercise only
were discouraged by those in authority, partly because officers were
few and could not easily be spared from the possible call of duty
that might come at any time, and partly because walking, unless
you confined your movements to saps, was not a particularly safe
amusement. It was extremely easy to go out for a stroll and come
home on a stretcher. Added to this was the possibility, that if you
went outside the area in which you were known that you might be
taken for a spy. Lurid stories were told of unknown officers who had
walked the whole length of Anzac Beach asking questions and then
disappeared, and though like most rumours these were probably quite
unfounded, yet there was always a chance that some overzealous and
suspicious individual might give you an unpleasant half-hour. All
these considerations tended to make walking for pleasure an amusement
to be indulged in with moderation.
Fairly soon, however, officers began to work at training again, for
early in September steps were taken to fill up the depleted ranks
of the Division. The first reinforcements had been quickly absorbed
on their arrival from Mudros, and by the end of August every unit
was much below strength. Since under normal conditions the voyage
from England to Mudros usually occupied from ten days to a fortnight
it naturally took some time before the gaps in the units were
filled. At the end of the first week in September, however, news was
received that the first drafts from home had arrived. The men who
composed these drafts were for the most part drawn from the reserve
battalions of Irish regiments and were excellent material, many of
them being men of the old Regular Army who had been wounded in France.
The summer of 1915 in Flanders had been a comparatively quiet one,
since there had been a lull in the fighting after the second battle
of Ypres. The Regular Battalions of the Irish Regiments serving there
had made comparatively small demands on their Reserve Battalions for
reinforcements, and consequently large and good drafts were sent out
to the 10th Division. This consideration, however, did not apply to
the Inniskilling, Munster and Dublin Fusiliers, whose 1st Battalions
were serving in Gallipoli with the 29th Division and had sustained
terrible losses. Unfortunately, the officers who accompanied the
first drafts were not those who had been trained with the units of
the division, and had been left behind as surplus to establishment,
but were drawn, as a general rule, from Scotch regiments. They were
excellent fellows and showed no lack of keenness or courage, but
officers who had had some previous knowledge of the units in which
they were serving would have been more useful, and in addition, from
the sentimental point of view, it was felt that an influx of trews
and glengarries tended to remove the Irish character of the Division.
However, with the later drafts received, a number of Irish officers
did arrive.
It was not entirely an easy matter to assimilate these
reinforcements. As a rule, a draft is a comparatively small body of
men which easily adopts the character of the unit in which it is
merged. In Gallipoli, however, units had been so much reduced in
strength that in some cases the draft was stronger than the battalion
that it joined, while it almost invariably increased the strength
of what was left of the original unit by half as much again. As a
result after two or three drafts had arrived, the old battalion
had been swamped. For many reasons this was unfortunate. It took a
considerable time for the officers and N.C.O.’s even to learn the
names of the newcomers, still more to acquire that insight into their
characters necessary for the smooth working of a company or platoon.
The shortage of good and experienced N.C.O.’s, too, had the result of
throwing rather too much influence into the hands of bad characters.
In every large body of soldiers there are bound to be men who dislike
danger and do their best to avoid it. As a rule these undesirables
are known and are unable to do much harm; but among an influx of
young soldiers a few men of this stamp, posing as experienced
veterans, may do a considerable amount of mischief, till they are
discovered and dealt with.
It was unfortunately impossible to adopt the most favourable method
of assimilating the new men. To teach men to act together, to
recognise and obey the voice of their officer or sergeant there is
nothing like drill, and particularly drill in close order. Only
from drill can be obtained the surrender of individuality in order
to achieve a common purpose which is the foundation of military
discipline. It is on the barrack square that a platoon or company
first “gets together” and realises its corporate entity; it is “on
the square” that an officer first begins to distinguish his men and
to discriminate between their characters, and it is “on the square”
that men first begin to know their officer. Barrack square drill is
not, as it was in the Eighteenth Century, the end-all and be-all of
military training, but it is an indispensable foundation for it, and
no effective substitute has ever yet been found to take its place.
Unfortunately, in Gallipoli, drill was out of the question. When on
the move, men straggled along in single file without thought of step,
while the duties of trench-manning, road-making, or onion-carrying,
did not encourage smartness. While off duty the men were scattered
round a rabbit warren of dug-outs, and any gathering for parade
purposes was at once dispersed by hostile shrapnel. All that could be
done was to practise bombing in disused Turkish trenches and carry
out the usual inspections of rifles, ammunition and iron rations.
The severity of the handicap thus imposed upon battalions will be
best appreciated by those who have served in France. There units
periodically go behind the line to rest, and during the rest-period
are able by drill and discipline to learn to know and assimilate
their new men.
Among other matters that had to be faced was the training
of specialists. Most battalions had lost the bulk of their
machine-gunners and signallers and it was extraordinarily rare to
find a unit in which both the signalling and machine-gun officer
survived. If they did the Adjutant probably did not, and one of them
had been promoted to fill his place. In any case, fresh officers and
men had to be trained for the duty. It proved to be unfortunate that
very few of the officers who joined with drafts had had any training
in either of these branches. A reserve battalion, if well-organized,
should be a kind of military university in which an energetic officer
can pick up some knowledge of every branch of infantry work since
he can never tell what he may not be required to do when posted to
a battalion on active service. The power to command a platoon is
only the foundation, not the climax, of a subaltern’s training.
Fortunately, in addition to the second-lieutenants who accompanied
drafts, a certain number of officers and men rejoined from hospital.
These had mostly been wounded or gone sick during the fighting at the
beginning of August, and they formed a very welcome reinforcement,
since they were both experienced and seasoned to the climate.
Unfortunately, as much could not be said for the new drafts, who
suffered very badly from dysentery. It was a common experience for a
company commander to congratulate himself on having discovered a good
sergeant-major or platoon-sergeant only to hear on the following day
that he had been invalided. The men who had been wounded in France
seemed to be peculiarly liable to dysentery.
While steps were being taken to reorganize the shattered units,
rumours began to spread that the Division was to leave the Peninsula
to rest. By this time most people had begun to discredit all rumours,
but it appeared possible that there might be something in this.
It was known that both the 29th Division and what was left of the
original Australians had been removed to Mudros for a change of
ten days or so, and from a military point of view it was eminently
desirable to give the Division a chance of training its new drafts in
a spot free from shell fire.
It was, however, very uncertain when and where we were to go. The
place varied between Mudros and Imbros, while the time suggested was
always “next week.” Finally, the 29th Brigade received orders on
September 28th to prepare to move on the following evening, not to
either of the places anticipated but to Suvla. For a moment people
thought that an attack was in prospect since a day or two earlier
“The Peninsula Press” had announced great victories in France. Since
units of the Division had been paraded at Mudros in July and ordered
to cheer for the impending fall of Bagdad, most people were a little
distrustful of official bulletins, but if it really was true, and
the German line was broken both at Loos and in Champagne, then, of
course, we should push the enemy as hard as possible wherever we
could. All these speculations were shattered, however, early on the
29th, by the cancellation of the orders to proceed to Suvla, and the
receipt of instructions to embark at Anzac for Mudros on the same
evening.
Somehow one was not as glad to be leaving Gallipoli as one had
anticipated. To be sure it was all to the good to be out of the
shelling for a time and the Turks took steps to intensify the
pleasure caused by this prospect by firing on the bivouacs of the
29th Brigade on their last day with unusual vigour. One shell fell
immediately outside the guard room of the Connaught Rangers, but
fortunately failed to explode. Another burst in the camp of the Royal
Irish Rifles and wounded Lieutenant Elliot. This officer was the last
survivor except for the Quartermaster and Doctor, of the officers of
the battalion who had landed at Anzac on August 6th, and was unlucky
in being hit on the last day. Even the prospect of immunity from
bombardment could not however disguise the fact that one was sorry to
leave.
As the 29th Brigade filed down the long sap to Anzac in the darkness,
as the 30th and 31st Brigades retraced their steps past Lala Baba and
over the beaches at Suvla, it was impossible to avoid retrospect.
We had passed that way less than two months before, but going in
the opposite direction full of high hopes. Now we were leaving
the Peninsula again, our work unfinished and the Turks still in
possession of the Narrows. Nor was it possible to help thinking of
the friends lying in narrow graves on the scrub-covered hillside or
covered by the débris of filled-in trenches, whom we seemed to be
abandoning. Yet though there was sorrow at departing there was no
despondency. We had the memory of strenuous effort and achievement
to inspire us, and the bond of friendship among the few officers who
survived had been knit closer than it had ever been before. The men,
too, felt a new spirit towards their officers, and the hard times
they had shared together had cemented the feeling of comradeship
which had always existed. They knew now that whatever the danger
might be their officers would be the first to face it, and the
officers had proved that their men would follow them anywhere. Once
that sentiment exists in a battalion it is impossible to break its
spirit.
The 29th Brigade reached Mudros at dawn on September 30th and went
under canvas in the Mudros East area, which was on the opposite side
of the harbour to the bivouac they had previously occupied. The
remainder of the Division followed them thither in the course of the
week. There was unfortunately not many of the original Division left.
Though the Divisional Staff had not greatly changed, only one
brigadier still held his original command. This was Brigadier-General
Nicol, who had won the admiration and affection of the 30th
Brigade by his unfailing courage and tenacity. He was not a
young man, but in spite of the sickness which afflicted everyone
in Gallipoli he resolutely refused to go to hospital, and by
his example encouraged many younger officers to “stick it out.”
Of the original Brigade Staffs only one Brigade-Major, Captain
Cooke-Collis, and one Staff Captain, Captain Goodland, survived,
and sickness and wounds had so thinned the ranks of the commanding
officers that only Lieutenant-Colonel Jourdain of the Connaught
Rangers, Lieutenant-Colonel Cox of the 6th Royal Dublin Fusiliers,
Lieutenant-Colonel Pike of the 5th Royal Irish Fusiliers, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Granard of the Royal Irish Regiment, were
still with their units. One Lieutenant-Colonel, Vanrenen, of the
5th Inniskillings, had fallen, and the other eight were wounded
or sick. The battalions, too, had suffered terribly, and it was
an exceptional unit that possessed more than half-a-dozen of its
original officers and 200 of the men who had gone with it to the
Peninsula at the beginning of August. Even of these a fair proportion
had spent part of the time in hospital and rejoined; those who had
seen the campaign through from start to finish were rare.
There was, however, little time to think of these matters. The
concentration of the Division was not completed till October 3rd and
on October 4th its first two battalions sailed for another theatre of
war.
CHAPTER X
RETROSPECT
“So awakened in their hearts the strongest of all fellowships, the
fellowship of the sword.”—_W. B. Yeats._
What does one recollect most clearly when one looks back at Gallipoli?
A multitude of memories cluster together: dry, sand-floored gullies,
thirsty men crowded round a well, Indians grooming their mules,
lithe, half-naked Australians, parched, sun-dried scrub, but above
and beyond all these one remembers the graves. Not a man came back
from the Peninsula without leaving some friend behind there, and it
is bitter to think that the last resting-place of those we loved
is in the hands of our enemy. Not all the dead of Gallipoli lie in
the Peninsula itself. There are crowded cemeteries at Malta and
Alexandria, and many a brave body has been lowered over the side
of a hospital ship into the Aegean to mingle his bones with those
of Argonauts and Crusaders and all the heroes of a bygone age.
Nevertheless, when one thinks of Gallipoli one thinks first of graves.
You could not walk far in the Peninsula without seeing them,
sometimes thickly crowded together outside a field-ambulance,
sometimes a solitary cross marking the spot where a sniper’s victim
had been buried. Each of these tombs had at its head a little wooden
cross bearing the man’s name, regiment, and rank, and the date of his
death, and in some cases his comrades had done a little more. Here
Australian gunners had made a pattern with fuse caps on the earth
that covered their friend, and there a lid of a biscuit-tin had been
beaten into a plaque, bearing a crucifix. Death had made strange
bedfellows: in one little cemetery high up at the Chailak Dere behind
Rhododendron Ridge there lay side by side Private John Jones, Royal
Welsh Fusiliers and Sergeant Rotahiru of the Maoris. From the two
ends of the earth Christian and Buddhist and Sikh had come to fight
in the same cause, and in death they lay together. It was my lot in
the last days of September to endeavour to compile a register of
where the men of my Battalion had been interred, and as I went from
grave to grave writing down the name of one Irishman after another I
was irresistibly reminded of Davis’s lines:
“But on far foreign fields from Dunkirk to Belgrade
Lie the heroes and chiefs of the Irish Brigade.”
Now the age-long quarrel with the Turk had carried Irishmen even
further afield and the “Wild Geese” who fought on the Danube under
Prince Eugene found their successors in those of the 10th Division
who lay under the Cross of Christ in the barren waste of Gallipoli.
Not indeed that every grave was marked with a cross. Some had fallen
within the enemy’s lines and others were hastily buried under the
parados of a captured trench without even a stone to mark where they
lay. In the heat of battle, it was impossible to delay for forms and
ceremonies, and often even the names of the fallen were not noted.
Only those who died in hospital were buried with proper rites, but
it mattered little where the bodies of the heroes rested. The whole
land is one shrine, made sacred by the memory of devotion to duty and
self-sacrifice, and no man could wish to lie elsewhere than in the
ground he had won from the enemy.
Yet it seemed a pity that it should be knocked to pieces so soon.
Much labour spread over many weary months had gone to form it and to
make it worthy of the name of Irish, and it was tragic that it should
practically be annihilated with so little tangible result achieved.
It is not perhaps altogether easy for the civilian to understand how
sorrowful it seems unless he realises that a unit trained to arms has
a spiritual as well as a material being. A battalion of infantry is
not merely a collection of a thousand men armed with rifles; it is,
or at any rate, it should be, a community, possessing mutual hopes,
mutual fears, and mutual affection. Officers and men have learnt to
know one another and to rely on one another, and if they are worth
their salt, the spiritual bond uniting them is far stronger and more
effectual for good than the power conferred by rank and authority. In
the 10th Division the bonds uniting all ranks were unusually strong.
In the first place came love of Ireland shared in equal degree by
officers and men. Second to this, and only second, was pride of
regiment, happiness at forming part of a unit which had had so many
glorious deeds recorded of it and resolution to be worthy of its
fame. The names of the battalion, Dublins, Munsters, Inniskillings,
Connaught Rangers, spoke not only of home, but also of splendid
achievements performed in the past, and nerved us to courage and
endurance in the future.
Above and beyond these feelings, common to all Irish soldiers, the
10th Division had a peculiar intimacy gained from the circumstances
of its formation. It was the first Irish Division to take the field
in war. Irish Brigades there had often been; they had fought under
the fleur-de-lys and the tricolour of France and under the Stars and
Stripes as well as they had done under the Union Jack. But never
before in Ireland’s history had she sent forth a whole division (but
for one battalion) of her sons to the battle-field.
The old battalions of the Regular Army had done magnificently, but
they had necessarily been brigaded with English, Scotch and Welsh
units. The 10th Division was the first Division almost entirely
composed of Irish battalions to face the enemy. Officers and men
alike knew this and were proud of their destiny. As the battalions
marched through the quiet English countryside, the drums and fifes
shrilled out “St. Patrick’s Day” or “Brian Boru’s March,” and the
dark streets of Basingstoke echoed the voices that chanted “God Save
Ireland” as the units marched down to entrain. Nor did we lack “the
green.” One unit sewed shamrocks on to its sleeves, another wore
them as helmet badges. Almost every company cherished somewhere an
entirely unofficial green flag, as dear to the men as if they were
the regimental colours themselves. These constituted an outward
and visible sign that the honour of Ireland was in the Division’s
keeping, and the men did not forget it.
There was singularly little jealousy in the Division. Naturally,
where there were two battalions of one regiment in the same brigade,
each one of them cherished the belief that they and they alone were
the true representatives of the old regiment, but this was only
wholesome emulation. Where this cause for rivalry did not exist units
were on very good terms, and at Basingstoke, where the different
messes first really got to know one another, there was any amount of
friendship and good fellowship. Every battalion, of course, believed
that it was the finest Service Battalion in the Army, but it was also
convinced that the remainder of the Division, though inferior to
itself, reached a very much higher standard than any other unit in
K.1.
Having regard to this sentiment it was with great regret that
officers and men found that the Division was not destined to take the
field as a whole. The first shock was the loss of the artillery, and
the realisation that we should be compelled to rely on the support
of strange gunners when we took the field. Next came the fact that
the 29th Brigade was detached and sent to Anzac, where in turn it met
with yet further sub-division, its battalions going into action as
isolated units.
Finally, the mischance that sent the 5th Inniskillings, the two
battalions of Munster Fusiliers, and the Pioneer battalion into
action on the Kiretch Tepe, while the remainder of the 30th and 31st
Brigades were fighting under General Hill at the other end of the
Suvla area, destroyed the last chance that the Division as a whole
might place some distinct achievement to its credit.
Of the dash and eagerness of the men there was no doubt. All they
needed was to be told what they were to do, and they would carry it
out whatever the cost. They showed, too, on the 16th August, that in
addition to eagerness in the charge, a quality never lacking in Irish
soldiers, they possessed the rarer and finer military quality of
dogged tenacity. Whoever may be blamed for the small success achieved
in Gallipoli, no discredit rests on the rank and file of the 10th
Division.
The circumstances attending the formation of absolutely new units
had brought officers and men into a somewhat unusual relationship.
In the old Regular Army, except for a few N.C.O.’s and old soldiers
who have wives and families in married quarters, and an occasional
indiscreet youth who marries off the strength, the family life of the
soldier never comes under the officers’ notice at all. In the New
Army things were very different. The rapid expansion of our military
forces that took place in August and September, 1914, had placed a
tremendous strain on the resources of Paymasters and Record Officers.
The confusion and delay inevitably caused by this often meant
considerable hardship to the soldier’s family, and he had no one to
turn to for help but his officer.
First came the question of men whose employers were prepared to
increase their pay to the level of their previous wages provided they
could prove that they had enlisted. As a rule, the official papers
were long in coming, and in consequence company commanders made out
certificates that the men were serving, which, though unofficial,
proved effective. Next came the question of allowance; separation
allowance and allowance to dependants, which involved an enormous
amount of work and entailed a close acquaintanceship with the details
of each man’s family history. Finally came the work of stamping and
keeping up-to-date the National Insurance cards, which formed the
last remaining bond that linked the soldier to his civilian life.
Meanwhile, officer and man had been gaining insight into each other’s
character. The Company Commander had watched his men change from
a mob in civilian clothes to a disciplined body in khaki. He had
been busy picking out the intelligent, encouraging the backward,
stimulating the lazy, and checking the first steps of a few towards
drunkenness and vice. In all this he had had the invaluable
assistance of his company sergeant-major, and an intimacy had grown
up between them of no ordinary kind. When it was severed, as it too
often was, on the field of battle, the survivor felt that he had been
maimed and deprived of an invaluable support.
On a smaller scale a similar relationship arose between the subaltern
and his platoon-sergeant, while among the specialists, signallers and
machine-gunners, the bond between officer and men was even closer
as became those who shared a common mystery. The whole unit had
grown up together; the men in the ranks had watched the subaltern
who had joined ignorant of the rudiments of drill acquire knowledge
and self-confidence, and in the process had learned to trust him
themselves. The officers had seen with pleasure a boy selected for
a lance-corporal’s stripe because he showed signs of intelligence,
gradually gaining experience and the power to command men, until
sometimes he graduated into an excellent sergeant. There were many
common memories; wet days on the Curragh, long treks in the Hampshire
dust, scuffles in the hedgerows during a field-day, bivouacs in a
twilight meadow, all combined to cement the feeling of friendship
between officer and men. Sometimes these memories went back to a
period before the War. Nearly all the officers were Irish, and most
of them were serving in their Territorial units, with the result
that they often found privates who were their near neighbours and
knew the woods, and the bogs, and the wet winding roads of home. All
this was good; it gave the Division a character that it could not
otherwise have obtained, but it had its black side when men began
to fall. It was not merely Number So-and-so Private Kelly who was
killed, it was little Kelly, who had cooked (very badly) for the mess
at Basingstoke, or Kelly who had begged so eagerly not to be left
behind with the first reinforcements, or Kelly, the only son of a
widowed mother, who lived on the Churchtown Road, three miles from
home.
To the staff and the High Command, men must necessarily be no more
than cyphers on a casualty list, but to the regimental officer it is
very much otherwise, and every man who falls causes a fresh pang to
his commander’s heart. Few things are more distressing to an officer
than to hear the roll of his unit called after an engagement, to look
in vain among the thinned ranks for many familiar faces, to hear
no answer given to name after name of the men with whom his life
has been bound up for months. This and not any extreme of physical
suffering is the hardest ordeal that a soldier has to face.
Nor was this loss of friends and comrades the only cause of sorrow.
The same feelings have been felt in every unit of the New Army after
a strenuous engagement, but the 10th Division had a special reason
for regret since the 10th Division was a thing unique in itself.
Ireland is a land of long and bitter memories, and those memories
make it extremely difficult for Irishmen to unite for any common
purpose. Many have believed it impossible, and would have prophesied
that the attempt to create an Irish Division composed of men of every
class, creed and political opinion would be foredoomed to failure.
And yet it succeeded. The old quarrels, the inherited animosities
were forgotten, and men who would have scowled at one another without
speaking became comrades and friends. Only those who know Ireland can
realise how difficult this was.
The Division was not composed of professional soldiers; many of the
officers and men had played, or, at least, had relatives who had
played, an active part in the agrarian and political struggles that
have raged in Ireland for the last forty years. Yet all this went
for nothing; the bond of common service and common sacrifice proved
so strong and enduring that Catholic and Protestant, Unionist and
Nationalist, lived and fought and died side by side like brothers.
Little was spoken concerning the points on which we differed, and
once we had tacitly agreed to let the past be buried we found
thousands of points on which we agreed. To an Englishman this no
doubt appears natural, for beneath all superficial disagreements the
English do possess a nature in common and look on things from the
same point of view, but in Ireland up to the present things have been
very different. It is only to be hoped that the willingness to forget
old wrongs and injustices, and to combine for a common purpose, that
existed in the 10th Division, may be a good augury for the future.
No doubt the experience of the two other Irish Divisions of the New
Army has been the same. Both of them have since won abundant glory
in France. When the War is over, all these combats shared together,
and dangers faced side by side, should count for something in the
making of the new Ireland.
No doubt it may seem to the outsider that all this is founded on
an unstable foundation, and that the 10th Division did not do so
much after all. Measured by the scale of material results he may
seem correct. At Suvla, indeed, they claim to have taken Chocolate
Hill and to have gained ground along the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, part of
which they were unable to hold. At Anzac two battalions seized part
of the Chunuk Bair and held it until they were driven off, a third
succeeded in maintaining its position on Rhododendron Ridge, while
the fourth captured the wells of Kabak Kuyu and gained a footing for
a time on Hill 60. All these were but incidents in what was itself an
unsuccessful campaign, yet officers and men did all that was required
of them. They died. There was no fear or faltering, there was no
retirement without orders.
The 10th Division, young soldiers without knowledge or experience of
war, were plunged into one of the hardest and fiercest campaigns ever
waged by the British Army, and acquitted themselves with credit. They
make no claim to exclusive glory, to have done more than it was their
duty to do, but they have no cause to be ashamed. Their shattered
ranks, their enormous list of casualties, show clearly enough what
they endured, and the words used by Sir Ian Hamilton of one brigade
are true of the whole Division. He wrote:—
“The old German notion that no unit would stand a loss of more than
25 per cent. had been completely falsified. The 13th Division and
the 29th Brigade of the 10th (Irish) Division had lost more than
twice that proportion, and in spirit were game for as much more
fighting as might be required.”
This may reasonably be applied to the 30th and 31st Brigades as well
as to the 29th, for the best proof of the enduring spirit of the
Division may be found in the fact that when after having lost nearly
75 per cent. of its original strength, it was hastily filled up with
drafts and sent under-officered and barely rested to fight a new and
arduous campaign single-handed, it did creditably.
In some quarters, particularly in Ireland, which is a sensitive
and suspicious country, it has been suggested that the services of
the Division have not been adequately recognized. Little is to be
gained by engaging in a controversy on this point. No doubt if on the
grounds that the Gallipoli campaign was unsuccessful, the men who
fought there are refused a clasp to their medals, and the regiments
who took part in it are not permitted to add its name to the
battle-honours on their colours, much resentment will be aroused, but
it is hardly likely that this will occur. If precedents are needed,
Talavera and Busaco, both of which figure as British victories, were
followed by retirements and by no definite result other than the
exhaustion of the enemy’s forces. Corunna, too, which was merely a
repulse of a pursuing enemy, followed by embarkation and evacuation,
is considered a victory, and while these names are emblazoned among
the battle-honours of regiments there is little reason for excluding
Gallipoli, where men suffered as much and fought as bravely.
But, after all, these considerations, though sentiment endears them
to the soldier, are minor matters. The soldier’s true reward is the
gratitude of his fellow-countrymen, and that we have in full measure
obtained. Ireland will not easily forget the deeds of the 10th
Division.
APPENDIX A
ON AUTHORITIES
In writing this Book I have in the main been guided by my own memory
and by information obtained from other officers, but I have also read
almost every book dealing with Gallipoli that has been published
up to the present (February, 1917). Three of these have been of
great value to me, since their authors served with the Division.
The first (_At Suvla Bay by John Hargrave. Constable_) was written
by a sergeant in the 32nd Field Ambulance and describes in graphic
language the experiences of a stretcher-bearer. It is illustrated by
a number of sketches from the author’s hand. The second book (_Suvla
Bay and After, by Juvenis. Hodder and Stoughton_) is also a record of
individual experiences. Though the author is anonymous and is very
reticent in giving detailed information of any kind, yet he appears
from internal evidence to have been an officer in the 5th Royal
Inniskilling Fusiliers. His narrative describes life on the Peninsula
from the 8th to the 15th, on which date he was wounded. It also
gives a vivid account of hospital life at Mudros.
Both these works are first-hand evidence of the doings of
individuals, but the third is of greater value to the historian. It
is a record of the services of the 5th (Service) Battalion of the
Connaught Rangers between the 19th of August, 1914, and the 17th
of January, 1917, compiled by its commanding officer and printed
for private circulation by Frederick Hall at the Oxford University
Press. This work not only provides a clear and vivid narrative of the
movements of the battalion, but also gives invaluable information as
to orders, strength and casualties. If a similar work were compiled
for each unit, the task of the historian would be easy.
I regret that the book dealing with the history of D Company of the
7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, which has been written by Mr. H. Hanna,
K.C., was not published in time to allow me to read it before writing
this work. Mr. Hanna has, however, been kind enough to allow me to
read part of his proof-sheets, and the information which I obtained
from him has been of great assistance to me.
I have also studied the letters from officers and men which appeared
in the Irish Press in the Autumn of 1915, but I have not as a rule
considered their statements as unimpeachable unless they were
confirmed by some independent authority.
APPENDIX B
CASUALTIES TO OFFICERS
(STAFF AND INFANTRY ONLY)
STAFF:
_Killed_:
Capt. G. W. Nugent, Staff Capt., 29th Brigade.
_Wounded_:
Brig.-Gen. R. J. Cooper, G.V.O., 29th Brigade.
Major D. J. C. K. Bernard, G.S.O. III.
Capt. A. H. McCleverty, Brigade-Major, 29th Brigade.
Capt. T. J. D. Atkinson, Staff Capt., 31st Brigade.
5TH ROYAL IRISH REGIMENT (PIONEERS).
_Killed_:
Lieut. R. MacAndrew.
2nd Lieut. J. P. Costello.
_Wounded_:
Major J. L. Fulda.
Capt. E. C. Morel.
Capt. J. R. Penrose Welsted.
Lieut. E. C. Beard.
Lieut. J. N. More.
2nd Lieut. C. Bewicke.
2nd Lieut. L. M. Lefroy.
_Missing_:
Lieut. J. R. Duggan.
5TH ROYAL INNISKILLING FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Lieut.-Col. A. S. Vanrenen.
Capt. R. W. Robinson.
Capt. C. E. G. Vernon.
Lieut. H. H. McCormack.
Lieut. J. E. T. Nelis.
2nd Lieut. D. J. Grubb.
_Died of Wounds_:
Lieut. J. R. Whitsitt.
_Wounded_:
Major T. A. D. Best.
Major C. S. Owen.
Capt. W. C. G. Bolitho.
Capt. V. H. Scott.
Lieut. F. C. Stigant.
Lieut. T. T. H. Verschoyle.
Lieut. T. E. Hastings.
Lieut. F. M. McCormac.
Lieut. O. G. E. MacWilliam.
2nd Lieut. G. C. Ballentine.
2nd Lieut. R. R. A. Darling.
2nd Lieut. L. F. Falls.
2nd Lieut. M. W. F. Hall.
2nd Lieut. I. A. Kirkpatrick.
6TH ROYAL INNISKILLING FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
2nd Lieut. W. S. Collen.
2nd Lieut. I. J. Smyth.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. H. M. Cliffe.
Major G. C. B. Musgrave.
Lieut. and Qrmr. J. J. Dooley.
Lieut. S. T. Martin.
Lieut. A. B. Douglas.
2nd Lieut. J. F. Hunter.
2nd Lieut. W. Porter.
10TH HAMPSHIRE REGIMENT.
_Killed_:
Capt. C. C. R. Black Hawkins.
Capt. W. H. Savage.
Lieut. G. L. Cheeseman.
Lieut. P. C. Williams.
2nd Lieut. S. A. Smith.
2nd Lieut. O. S. Whaley.
_Died of Wounds_:
Capt. G. E. Hellyer.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. W. D. Bewsher.
Major L. C. Morley.
Capt. T. A. Shone.
Capt. C. C. Waddington.
Capt. F. M. Hicks.
Lieut. L. Whittome.
Lieut. J. H. Tanner.
Lieut. C. C. Griffith.
Lieut. J. Clement.
2nd Lieut. I. H. German.
2nd Lieut. J. Morse.
2nd Lieut. C. Grellier.
2nd Lieut. G. S. H. De Gaury.
_Wounded and Missing_:
Major A. L. Pilleau.
Capt. C. B. Hayes.
Lieut. P. L. Bell.
6TH ROYAL IRISH RIFLES.
_Killed_:
Major and Adjt. W. Eastwood.
2nd Lieut. J. H. B. Lewis.
2nd Lieut. A. W. Richardson.
_Died of Wounds_:
Capt. J. F. Martyr.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. E. C. Bradford.
Major A. L. Wilford.
Major H. J. Morphy.
Capt. P. D. Green Armytage.
Capt. F. E. Eastwood.
Capt. R. H. Lorie.
Capt. R. O. Mansergh.
Lieut. N. McGavin.
Lieut. T. W. E. Brogden.
Lieut. D. Campbell.
Lieut. J. H. Pollock.
2nd Lieut. A. F. Harvey.
2nd Lieut. G. B. J. Smyth.
2nd Lieut. J. Murphy.
2nd Lieut. J. G. Martry.
2nd Lieut. W. G. Ryan.
5TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Major W. F. C. Garstin.
Capt. W. J. Hartley.
2nd Lieut. C. Crossly.
_Died of Wounds_:
Capt. G. G. Duggan.
Capt. A. W. Scott-Skirving.
_Wounded_:
Major F. W. E. Johnson.
Capt. E. M. McIlwain.
Capt. and Adjt. P. E. Kelly
Capt. J. A. D. Dempsey.
Capt. H. G. Whyte.
Lieut. J. B. Atkinson.
Lieut. W. A. Beattie.
Lieut. C. F. N. Harris.
Lieut. C. A. Murray.
Lieut. R. V. Murray.
Lieut. J. A. Blood.
2nd Lieut. J. L. Chalmers.
2nd Lieut. P. H. D. Dempsey.
2nd Lieut. E. A. Evanson.
2nd Lieut. F. A. Nowell.
2nd Lieut. L. C. Fitzgerald.
2nd Lieut. J. L. Bennett.
6TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Major H. M. Taylor.
Capt. and Adjt. J. C. Johnston.
Capt. B. V. Falle.
Lieut. L. Tolerton.
Lieut. J. S. Schute.
2nd Lieut. H. M. MacDermot.
2nd Lieut. G. F. Dobbin.
2nd Lieut. P. S. Snell.
2nd Lieut. W. A. Birmingham.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Colonel F. A. Greer.
Capt. W. A. Woods.
Capt. F. G. M. Wigley.
Capt. H. F. Belli Biver.
Capt. F. R. M. Crozier.
Capt. F. Jackson.
Lieut. G. H. Gallogly.
Lieut. F. H. Ledgerwood.
Lieut. A. L. Gregg.
Lieut. P. C. Tudor Craig.
2nd Lieut. J. C. McCutcheon.
2nd Lieut. C. F. Kennedy.
2nd Lieut. R. S. Trimble.
2nd Lieut. W. R. Egar.
2nd Lieut. C. E. T. Lewis.
_Missing_ (_believed killed_):
2nd Lieut. C. M. A. Barker.
2nd Lieut. J. J. Beasley.
2nd Lieut. F. G. Heuston.
5TH CONNAUGHT RANGERS.
_Killed_:
Lieut. A. J. W. Blake.
2nd Lieut. J. E. Burke.
2nd Lieut. G. R. Bennett.
_Died of Wounds_:
Major N. C. K. Money.
Capt. A. S. Hog.
_Wounded_:
Major H. J. Nolan Ferrall.
Capt. and Adjt. H. W. B. Maling.
Capt. A. Webber.
Capt. F. C. Burke.
Capt. G. J. B. E. Massy.
Capt. B. W. Bond.
Lieut. J. W. Cartmell Robinson.
Lieut. T. S. P. Martin.
Lieut. F. J. Charlton.
Lieut. O. M. Tweedy.
2nd Lieut. A. D. Mulligan.
2nd Lieut. J. Wallace.
2nd Lieut. T. W. G. Johnson.
2nd Lieut. E. J. G. Kelly.
2nd Lieut. A. St. J. Mahony.
_Wounded and Missing_:
Lieut. S. T. H. Lewis.
6TH LEINSTER REGIMENT.
_Killed_:
Lieut. N. J. Figgis.
Lieut. G. W. B. Gough.
2nd Lieut. A. R. Toomey.
2nd Lieut. W. S. C. Griffith.
2nd Lieut. H. G. Hickson.
2nd Lieut. J. V. Y. Willington.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. J. C. Craske, D.S.O.
Major T. R. Stannus.
Lieut. A. J. Jennings.
2nd Lieut. H. D. Little.
_Missing_ (_believed killed_):
Capt. C. C. D’Arcy-Irvine.
6TH ROYAL MUNSTER FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Major E. P. Conway.
Lieut. J. B. Lee.
Lieut. G. W. Burrowes.
_Died of Wounds_:
Major J. N. Jephson.
2nd Lieut. L. A. Gaffney.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. V. T. Worship, D.S.O.
Capt. H. G. Oldnall.
Capt. H. G. Livingston.
Capt. C. Y. Baldwin.
Lieut. G. W. N. N. Haynes.
Lieut. A. T. Lee.
Lieut. E. A. Thornton.
2nd Lieut. H. M. Chambers.
2nd Lieut. T. E. Hearn.
2nd Lieut. J. I. Comerford.
2nd Lieut. J. W. L. Rathbone.
2nd Lieut. S. C. Webb.
_Missing_:
Capt. J. B. T. Grant.
7TH ROYAL MUNSTER FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Capt. R. H. Cullinan.
Capt. J. V. Dunn.
Lieut. K. E. O’Duffy.
Lieut. S. R. V. Travers.
2nd Lieut. E. M. Harper.
2nd Lieut. F. E. Bennett.
2nd Lieut. W. H. Good.
_Wounded_:
Major C. L. Hendricks.
Capt. A. L. Cooper-Key.
Capt. W. F. Henn.
Capt. M. Wace.
Capt. H. Aplin.
Lieut. W. E. McClelland.
Lieut. H. G. Montagu.
Lieut. T. D. Hallinan.
Lieut. C. E. Longfield.
Lieut. R. E. Lawler.
2nd Lieut. V. J. Magnier.
2nd Lieut. F. S. L. Stokes.
2nd Lieut. J. L. Fitzmaurice.
6TH ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Capt. A. J. D. Preston.
Capt. and Adjt. W. R. Richards.
Lieut. J. J. Doyle.
2nd Lieut. W. C. Nesbitt.
2nd Lieut. F. B. O’Carroll.
2nd Lieut. W. F. C. McGarry.
_Died of Wounds_:
2nd Lieut. W. L. G. Mortimer.
_Wounded_:
Capt. W. H. Whyte.
Capt. P. T. L. Thompson.
Capt. R. B. C. Kennedy.
Capt. J. Luke.
Capt. J. J. T. Carroll.
Capt. W. S. Lennon.
Lieut. C. A. Martin.
2nd Lieut. R. W. Carter.
2nd Lieut. C. F. Healy.
2nd Lieut. M. Moloney.
_Wounded and Missing_:
Major J. G. Jennings.
Lieut. D. R. Clery.
2nd Lieut. R. Stanton.
[All these are believed to have been killed.]
7TH ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS.
_Killed_:
Major C. H. Tippet.
Major R. S. M. Harrison.
Capt. P. H. Hickman.
Capt. G. Pige Leschallas.
Capt. R. P. Tobin.
Lieut. M. J. Fitzgibbon.
Lieut. A. J. Russell.
2nd Lieut. E. T. Weatherill.
_Died of Wounds_:
Lieut. E. L. Julian.
_Wounded_:
Lieut.-Col. G. Downing.
Capt. L. S. N. Palmer.
Lieut. C. B. Girvin.
Lieut. A. W. MacDermott.
2nd Lieut. C. D. Harvey.
2nd Lieut. H. L. Clover.
2nd Lieut. G. Hicks.
Lieut. A. M. Eynaud (Royal Malta Regiment of Militia attached.)
_Missing_:
2nd Lieut. A. G. Crichton.
I regret that I have been unable to compile a full list of casualties
in the Royal Artillery, Royal Engineers, Army Service Corps and Royal
Army Medical Corps. Among those who were killed and wounded were:—
_Killed_:
Capt. H. J. Sudell, Army Service Corps.
_Wounded and Missing_ (_probably killed_):
2nd Lieut. M. W. Prettyman, Royal Engineers.
_Wounded_:
Capt. C. R. Satterthwaite, Royal Engineers.
Lieut. C. Patteson, Royal Engineers.
Lieut. L. Cassidy, Royal Army Medical Corps.
APPENDIX C
NAMES OF OFFICERS, NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS, AND MEN MENTIONED IN
GENERAL SIR IAN HAMILTON’S DESPATCHES
JANUARY AND MARCH, 1916
STAFF:
Lieut.-General Sir B. T. Mahon, K.C.V.O., C.B., D.S.O.
Colonel (temporary Brigadier-General) F. F. Hill, C.B., D.S.O.
Lieut.-Col. (temporary Brigadier-General) J. G. King-King, D.S.O.,
Res. of Officers.
Major M. J. N. Cooke-Collis, Royal Irish Rifles.
Capt. A. H. McCleverty, 2nd Rajput Light Infantry.
ROYAL ENGINEERS.
Lieut.-Col. F. K. Fair.
Temporary Lieut. C. Patteson.
Temporary Lieut. J. H. de W. Waller.
ROYAL IRISH REGIMENT.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. Rt. Hon. B. A. W. P., Earl of Granard, K.P.,
G.C.V.O.
Temporary Major V. M. B. Scully.
No. 5,615, C.S.M. R. Gallagher.
No. 223, C.S.M. M. McGrath.
No. 2,797, Lance-Corporal A. Laughlin.
No. 2,821, Lance-Corporal W. Grant.
No. 1,251, Private J. C. Keefe.
ROYAL INNISKILLING FUSILIERS
No. 12,519, Corporal J. Matchett.
No. 12,515, Private A. Mason.
No. 13,272, Private R. Bannon.
No. 13,981, Private J. Cox.
Temporary Lieut.-Colonel H. M. Cliff.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. M. P. B. Frazer.
Temporary Major G. C. B. Musgrave.
Temporary Capt. R. H. Scott.
Temporary Lieut. C. G. Barton.
Temporary Second-Lieut. G. B. Lyndon.
No. 7,817, Sgt. M. Garrett.
No. 17,986, Lance-Corporal W. Wynne.
No. 11,792, Lance-Corporal J. Maple.
No. 19,955, Private P. O’Kane.
No. 11,832, Private J. Lamont.
No. 12,720, Private T. Millar.
HAMPSHIRE REGIMENT.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. W. D. Bewsher.
Temporary Capt. F. M. Hicks.
Temporary Capt. P. H. Hudson.
Quartermaster and Hon. Lieut. W. J. Saunders.
No. 4,410, Temporary Sergeant-Major J. Smith.
No. 42,196, Company Sergt.-Major W. T. Groves.
No. 4,545, Sergeant T. Sturges.
No. 10,205, Private F. Biddicombe.
No. 9,871, Private J. C. R. Moxham.
No. 14,938, Private F. Dyer.
No. 14,295, Private E. P. Shawe.
ROYAL IRISH RIFLES.
Lieut.-Colonel E. C. Bradford.
Temporary Major W. Eastwood.
Temporary Major H. L. Wilford.
Regimental Sergeant-Major P. Mulholland.
ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. M. J. W. Pike.
Major F. W. E. Johnson.
Capt. P. E. Kelly.
Temporary Capt. H. S. C. Panton.
2nd Lieut. C. Crossley.
Temporary Capt. G. M. Kidd.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. F. A. Greer.
Temporary Major M. J. Thompson.
Temporary Capt. P. C. Tudor Craig.
Temporary Lieut. A. L. Gregg.
Quartermaster and Hon. Lieut. S. L. Cleall.
Temporary 2nd Lieut. F. G. Heuston.
No. 12,169, Sergeant J. Donohoe.
No. 12,166, Sergeant G. O’Neill.
No. 11,892, Sergeant G. Thirkettle.
No. 1,991, Lance-Corporal G. Cassells.
No. 15,641, Private C. Kipps.
No. 13,703, Private C. Lees.
CONNAUGHT RANGERS.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. H. F. N. Jourdain.
Temporary Major N. C. K. Money.
Temporary Major B. R. Cooper.
Capt. H. B. W. Maling (Adjt.)
Capt. G. J. B. E. Massy.
Temporary Lieut. A. J. W. Blake.
Lieut. S. H. Lewis.
No. 3,010, Temporary Sergeant-Major J. Hudson.
No. 319, Acting C.Q.M. Sergeant M. Nealon.
No. 652, Sergeant J. O’Connell.
No. 6,757, Sergeant J. McIlwaine.
No. 824, Acting Corporal J. Doyle.
No. 83, Private J. Geehan.
No. 3,831, Private J. Sweeney.
No. 529, Private M. Kilroy.
LEINSTER REGIMENT.
Lieut.-Col. J. Craske, D.S.O.
Temporary Capt. C. Lyster.
Temporary Capt. C. W. D’Arcy-Irvine.
Capt. H. W. Andrews (Adjt.)
Temporary 2nd Lieut. H. G. Hickson.
No. 8,120, Company Sergeant-Major H. H. Anderson.
No. 833, Sergeant J. Henry.
No, 1,201, Sergeant E. W. Bruce.
No. 3,134, Private J. Carolan.
ROYAL MUNSTER FUSILIERS.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. M. A. Tynte.
Major J. N. Jephson.
Temporary Capt. B. R. French.
No. 250, Company Sergeant-Major J. Murphy.
No. 26, Sergeant J. Ring.
No. 176, Sergeant W. Connors.
No. 545, Corporal R. Saunders.
Temporary Major G. Drage.
Temporary Major H. Aplin.
Temporary Lieut. H. Fitzmaurice.
Temporary Lieut. E. M. Harper.
Temporary Capt. G. H. Davis.
Temporary Lieut. S. R. V. Travers.
Temporary 2nd Lieut. F. T. S. Powell.
Qr.-Master and Hon. Lieut. C. Lindsay.
No. 10,397, Sergeant-Major M. Stacey.
No. 2,364, Company Sergeant-Major R. Mason.
No. 2,501, Private W. Bellamy.
No. 2,521, Private H. Carbult.
ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS.
Temporary Lieut.-Col. P. G. A. Cox.
Temporary Major W. H. Whyte.
Capt. A. J. D. Preston.
Capt. P. T. L. Thompson.
Capt. W. R. Richards.
Qr.-Master and Hon. Lieut. R. Byrne.
No. 13,507, Temporary Sergeant-Major J. Campbell.
No. 17,141, Sergeant J. West.
No. 13,197, Corporal E. Bryan.
Lieut.-Col. G. Downing.
Major R. S. M. Harrison.
Major M. P. L. Lonsdale.
Temporary Major C. B. R. Hoey.
Temporary Capt. R. P. Tobin.
Temporary Capt. L. S. N. Palmer.
Temporary Capt. G. N. Williamson.
No. 14,153, Regimental Sergeant-Major A. Guest.
No. 14,133, Company Sergeant-Major W. Kee.
No. 14,972, Company Sergeant-Major T. Haig.
No. 14,275, Company Sergeant-Major H. Robinson.
No. 14,150, Sergeant A. E. Burrowes.
No. 14,645, Sergeant E. C. Millar.
No. 13,852, Private A. E. Wilkin.
No. 25,563, Company Sergeant-Major C. Lynch.
CHAPLAIN’S DEPARTMENT.
Rev. R. A. McClean.
APPENDIX D
HONOURS AWARDED TO OFFICERS NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE
TENTH DIVISION
C.B.
Col. (temp. Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Cooper, C.V.O., Res. of Off.
C.M.G.
Col. (temp. Brig.-Gen.) F. F. Hill, C.B., D.S.O.
Lt. Col. J. Craske, D.S.O., Leinster Regt.
Major (temp. Lt.-Col.) H. F. N. Jourdain, The Connaught Rangers.
D.S.O.
Major (temp. Lt.-Col.) W. D. Bewsher, Res. of Off.
Capt. (temp. Major) N. C. K. Money, Indian Army (att. Connaught Rangers).
Capt. (temp. Major) A. L. Wilford, Indian Army (att. Royal Irish Rifles).
_To be Brevet-Colonel in the Reserve of Officers._
Lt.-Col. (temp. Brig.-Gen.) J. G. King-King, Res. of Off.
MILITARY CROSS.
Temp. Capt. G. M. Kidd, Royal Irish Fusiliers.
Temp. Capt. C. C. J. Lyster, Leinster Regt.
Capt. G. J. B. E. Massy, The Connaught Rangers.
Temp. Capt. H. S. Panton, Royal Irish Fusiliers.
Temp. Lt. J. F. Hunter, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
Temp. Lt. C. Patteson, Royal Engineers.
Qr.-Master and Hon. Lt. W. J. Saunders, Hampshire Regt.
Qr.-Master and Hon. Lt. R. Byrne, Royal Dublin Fusiliers.
Temp. Sec. Lt. F. G. Henston, Royal Irish Fusiliers.
Temp. Sec. Lt. G. B. Lyndon, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
D.C.M.
No. 8120, Sergt. H. Anderson, 6th Leinster Regt.
No. 2501, Pte. W. Bellamy, 6th Royal Munster Fusiliers.
No. 1470, Pte. F. Biddlecombe, 10th Hampshire Regiment.
No. 10205, L.-Sgt. S. Bowers, 10th Hampshire Regt.
No. 41627, Pioneer T. L. Campbell, Royal Engineers.
No. 3134, Pte. J. Carolan, 6th Leinster Regt.
No. 177, Sergt. W. Connors, 6th Royal Munster Fusiliers.
No. 12169, Sergt. J. Donohoe, 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers.
No. 33452, Corpl. S. A. Fitch, 30th Field Ambulance.
No. 83, Pte. J. Geehan, 5th Connaught Rangers.
No. 14153, Acting Sergt.-Major A. Guest, 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers.
No. 32611, Sergt. G. Hughes, 30th Field Ambulance.
No. 15641, Pte. C. Kipps, 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers.
No. 11832, Pte. J. Lamont, 6th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
No. 11782, C.-Sergt.-Major C. Lynch, 5th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
No. 12515, Pte. A. Mason, 5th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
No. 2464, Acting C.-Sergt.-Major R. Mason, 7th Royal Munster Fusiliers.
No. 17792, Lance-Corpl. J. Meckle, 6th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
No. 250, C.-Sergt.-Major J. Murphy, 6th Royal Munster Fusiliers.
No. 642, Sergt. J. O’Connell, 5th Connaught Rangers
No. 1251, Pte. J. O’Keefe, 5th Royal Irish Regiment.
No. 4545, Acting C.-Sergt.-Major T. Sturges, 10th Hampshire Regiment.
No. 17986, L.-Corpl. St. C. P. Wynne, 6th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.
Clasp to D.C.M.
No. 3010, Sergt.-Major J. Hudson, 5th Connaught Rangers, was
awarded a clasp to the D.C.M. won by him in South Africa when
serving with the Irish Guards.
INDEX
Abdy, Brig.-Gen., 6
Achi Baba, 55, 68
Adam, Lt., 106
Aghyl Dere, 76, 92, 93, 97, 105, 110, 111, 113, 116, 118, 119, 182
Agnew, Lt.-Col., 184, 217
Aldershot, 23, 24
Alexander, Major, 36
Alexandria, 40, 49, 220, 229
Anafarta (Saghir), 122, 130, 154, 186
Anafarta (Biyuk), 123, 186
Anderson, Major, 217
Anzac, 56, 58, 59, 63, 94, 108, 186, 187, 215, 216, 232, 233
Anzac, Sap, The, 94, 96, 108, 240
Apex, The, 217
A.S.C., 3, 16, 20, 226
Artillery, 10th Divisional, 3, 16, 37, 49, 229, 230
Ashmead Bartlett, Mr., 120
Asmak Dere, 92, 93, 99, 186
Atkinson, Capt., 37, 138, 209
Australians, 23, 56, 58, 72, 93, 96, 197, 199, 202, 239
Australians, 18th Battalion, 196
Australians, 9th Light Horse, 204
Baldwin, Brig.-Gen., 96-103
Barnwell, Lt., 87
Barron, Capt., 37
Basingstoke, 3, 23, 33
Bauchop’s Hill, 110, 216
Beaumont, Capt. Sir G., 37
Bennett, 2nd Lt., 144
Bernard, Capt., 35
Bewsher, Lt.-Col., 36, 104, 105, 120
Birdwood, Lt.-Gen., Sir W., 56, 58, 80, 109, 186, 196
Birr, 16
Blake, Lt., 117, 194, 195
Bordon, 24
Bradford, Lt.-Col., 36, 103
British Red Cross Society, 211
Browning, Mr. F. H., 15
Brown’s Dip, 77, 107
Burke, 2nd Lt., 150
Burrows, Lt., 149
Byrne, Lt. and Qr.-Mr. 137, 138
Cadell, Lt.-Col., 37
Cairo, 220, 229
Carlow, 17
Cayley, Brig.-Gen., 110-117, 182
Chailak Dere, 76, 92, 93, 95, 96, 97, 110
Chaplains, 63, 161, 162, 189, 218-221
Chocolate Hill, 123, 127-135, 152, 154, 159, 214, 215
Chunuk Bair, 82, 83, 92, 110, 111, 112, 113, 118, 182
Clery, 2nd Lt., 179
Cliffe, Lt.-Col., 37, 139
Colquhoun, Major, 80, 216
Connaught Rangers, 5th Batt., 2, 36, 40, 65, 68, 70, 75, 77, 181-186,
215, 216, 239;
at Sari Bair, 107-119;
at Kaba Kuyu, 187-198;
at Hill 60, 199-205.
Conway, Major, 144
Cooke-Collis, Capt., 37, 209, 241
Cooper, Brig.-Gen., 6, 36, 77, 98, 103, 120
Cooper-Key, Capt., 144
Costello, Lt., 207
Courtney’s Post, 80
Cox, Maj.-Gen., 96, 99, 104, 109, 185-187, 196
Cox, Lt.-Col., 36, 241
Craske, Lt.-Col., 36, 81, 84, 85, 89
Crichton, 2nd Lt., 174
Crozier, Rev. J. W., C.F., 63, 186, 220
Cullinan, Capt., 144
Curragh, The, 16, 20, 21
Currey, Major, 85, 216
Cyclist Company, 10th Divisional, 3, 20, 21, 38, 50
Damakjelik Bair, 93, 99, 104, 110, 111, 181, 187, 188, 230
D’Arcy-Irvine, Capt., 89
de Lisle, Major-Gen., 212
Delbrück, Professor, 52
Dooley, Lt. and Qr.-Mr., 140
Dowling, Lt. and Qr.-Mr., 106
Downing, Lt.-Col., 36, 129, 170
Dublin, 16, 20, 21
Dublin Fusiliers, Royal, 6th Batt., 2, 36, 53, 125, 128, 132, 137,
154, 155, 213, 214, 215;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Dublin Fusiliers, Royal, 7th Batt., 2, 20, 36, 53, 125, 126, 128,
129, 130, 156, 159, 213-215;
at Chocolate Hill, 132-135;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Dublin Fusiliers, Royal, 7th Batt., D Company, 15, 134, 173
Duffus, Brig.-Gen., 6, 37
Dug-outs, 78
Dundalk, 16
East Lancashire Regt., 6th Batt., 96, 97, 103, 185
Eastwood, Major, 103
11th Division, 58, 59, 124-135, 154, 213
Elliot, Lt., 239
Engineers, 10th Divisional, 3, 16, 37, 50, 207
Enos, 53
Fair, Lt.-Col., 37
Farm, The, 93, 94, 98, 111-114
Fashom, Lt., 150
Fatigues at Mudros, 44, 45
Fermoy, 16
52nd (Lowland) Division, 55
53rd (Welsh) Division, 58, 154, 213
54th (East Anglian) Division, 58, 161, 213
Fitch, Corporal, 215
Fitzclarence, Brig.-Gen., 6
Fitzgibbon, Lt., 176
43rd (East Lancashire) Division, 55
French (Corps Expeditionnaire d’Orient), 55
Fulda, Major, 207
Gaba Tepe, 23, 56, 108
Gaffney, Lt., 150
Garstin, Major, 139
Ghazi Baba, 141, 146
Ghurkas, 97, 103, 110, 189, 193
Glavey, Pte., 201
Godley, Major-Gen. Sir A., 58, 89, 93, 95, 109, 120, 189, 196
Goodland, Capt., 36, 241
Gore, Lt.-Col., 36
Granard, Lt.-Col. the Earl of, 37, 207, 241
Grant, Capt., 174
Greer, Lt.-Col., 37
Grubb, Lt., 168
Hamilton, Gen. Sir I., 54, 55, 57, 204, 205
Hammersley, Major-Gen., 126
Hampshire, Regt., 10th Batt., 2, 16, 65, 70, 75, 181, 186, 188, 216;
at Sari Bair, 94-107
Harrison, Major, 8, 135, 170, 173
Harper, Capt., 144
Headfort, Capt. the Marquis of, 35
Helles, Cape, 23, 55, 229
Hellyer, Capt., 106, 197
Hendricks, Major, 144
Henn, Capt., 144
Heuston, 2nd Lt., 177
Hill, Brig.-Gen., 6, 37, 125, 128, 133, 134, 152, 154, 159, 208
Hill Q, 92, 96, 97, 101
Hill 10, 129, 213
Hill 60 (Kaiajik Aghala), 187, 191-196, 199-204, 213
Hill 70, 154
Hog, Capt., 183
Holden, Major, 35
Hollins, Major, 35
Homer, 52
Hughes, Staff Sgt., 215
Hunter, Lt., 156
Hutchinson, Rev. S., C.F., 220
Imbros, 58, 67, 230, 238
Inniskilling Fusiliers, Royal, 5th Batt., 2, 37, 125, 132, 140, 144,
215;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-169
Inniskilling Fusiliers, Royal 6th Batt., 2, 37, 126, 128, 130, 156,
213, 215;
at Chocolate Hill, 132-135;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-169
Inspection of 10th Division by H.M. the King, 26;
by F.-M. Lord Kitchener, 26-29;
by Sir B. Mahon, 21
Ismail Oglu Tepe, 161, 186, 213
James, Capt., 38
Jephson, Major, 143, 164
Johnson, 2nd Lt., 191
Johnston, Maj.-Gen., 96
Johnston, Capt., 155
Jourdain, Lt.-Col., 36, 109, 111, 184, 205, 241
Julian, Lt., 139
Kaba Kuyu Wells, 187-197, 200, 213
Kaiajik Aghala (see Hill 60)
Karakol Dagh, 124, 125
Kidd, Capt., 177
Kidney Hill, 162, 166, 167
Kildare, 16
Kilid Bahr, 55
Kilworth, 16
King, H.M. the, Inspection by, 26;
Order of, 29
King, Major, 35
King-King, Lt. Col. (later Brig.-Gen.), 35, 209
Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 124, 125, 140-151, 152, 161-180, 206, 207
Kitchener, F.-M. Earl, Inspection by, 26-29
Koja Chemen Tepe, 92-94, 186, 213
Lala Baba, 122, 124, 127, 213, 230
Lauder, Lt.-Col., 38
Lee, Lt., 144
Leinster Regt., 6th Batt., 2, 16, 36, 40, 65, 68, 70, 75, 76, 100,
181, 216;
at Rhododendron Ridge, 76-90
Leman, Major, 35
Lemnos, 41, 43, 67
Lewis, Lt., 201, 203
Limerick, 17
Lone Pine, 59, 73
Longford, 16
Longford, Brig.-Gen. the Earl of, 199
Lonsdale, Major, 128
Loyal North Lancashire Regt., 6th Batt., 83, 84, 100
Lyndon, Lt., 168
Lyster, Capt., 89
MacAndrew, Lt., 207
McCleverty Capt., 36, 103
McCormack, Lt., 168
MacDermot, Lt., 155
McGarry, 2nd Lt., 179
MacKessack, Lt.-Col., 38
McLean, Rev. Canon, C. F., 161, 219, 221
Mahon, Lt.-Gen. Sir B., 4, 5, 21, 35, 129, 140
Maidos, 55
Mails, 148, 221-224
Maling, Capt., 193
Malta, 40
Manchester Regt., 11th Batt., 124, 141, 142
Maoris, 103
Martyr, Lt., 95
Massy, Capt., 115, 118
Mayne, Lt., 73
Mitylene, 51, 58, 59, 124, 125
Money, Major, 8, 117, 204, 227
Morley, Major, 185, 197
Morel, Capt., 207
Morphy, Major, 103
Mudros, 40-59, 140, 148, 160, 217, 229, 233, 238, 239, 241
Mullingar, 16
Munster Fusiliers, Royal, 6th Batt., 2, 36, 40, 140-151;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Munster Fusiliers, Royal, 7th Batt., 2, 36, 40, 65, 140-151;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Murphy, Rev. Father, C.F., 162, 219
Musgrave, Major, 139
Naval Division, Royal, 55
Nealon, Sergt., 195
Nelis, Lt., 168
Nesbitt, 2nd Lt., 179
Newbridge, 16
New Zealanders, 23, 56, 82, 93, 96, 98, 100, 186, 188, 192-196,
199, 202, 204
Nibrunesi Point, 121, 124, 125
Nicol, Brig.-Gen., 6, 36, 141, 164, 241
Norfolk Regt., 1/5th Batt., 132
No. 2 Post, 94, 95, 108, 109, 216
Nugent, Capt., 36, 104
O’Connell, Sergt., 195
O’Connor, Rev. Father, C.F., 63, 189, 219
O’Farrell Rev. Father, C.F., 219
O’Sullivan, Lt., 119
Oldnall, Capt., 149, 150
Oman, Professor (quoted), 13, 198
Panton, Capt., 177
Parke, Capt., 85
Peck, Lt.-Col., 37
“Peninsula Press,” The, 231, 232, 239
Pike, Lt.-Col., 37, 241
Pilleau, Major, 163, 165
Pollok, Capt., 184, 195
Poole Hickman, Capt., 135, 174
Powerscourt, Lt. Viscount, 35
Preston, Major, 179
Quinn’s Post, 80, 217
R.A.M.C., 3, 16, 17, 38, 50, 207-211
Redmond, Mr. J. E., 197
Reorganisation, 233-238
Reserve Gully, 216
Rest Gully, 94
Rhododendron Ridge, 82-90, 92, 94, 101, 181
Richards, Capt., 179
Rifles, Royal Irish, 6th Batt., 2, 36, 65, 70, 75, 181, 216, 239;
at Sari Bair, 94-107
Robinson, Capt., 168
Roche, Rev. F. J., C.F., 220
Rose, Capt., 185
Rowan, Lt.-Col., 35
Royal Irish Regt., 5th Batt., 2, 16, 37, 40, 141, 206;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 178-179
Royal Irish Fusiliers, 5th Batt., 2, 37, 125, 126, 128, 130, 215;
at Chocolate Hill, 132-135;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Royal Irish Fusiliers, 6th Batt., 2, 37, 125, 128, 154, 155, 215;
at Chocolate Hill, 132-135;
at Kiretch Tepe Sirt, 162-180
Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 8th Batt., 83
Royston-Piggott, Major, 35
Russell, Brig.-Gen., 188, 192, 193, 199
Russell’s Top, 216
Salt Lake, The, 122, 128, 129, 133, 213
Samothrace, 134, 230
Sapte, Col., 35
Sari Bair, 57, 91-120
Saunders, Lt. and Qr.-Mr., 107
Sazli Beit Dere, 92
Scimitar Hill, 123, 230
2nd Mounted Division, 185, 213, 214
Shanahan, Lt.-Col., 38
Shaw, Capt., 184
Shrapnel Gully, 70, 73, 94
Signal Coy., 10th Divisional, 3, 16, 38, 50
Sikhs, 111
16th (Irish) Division, 16, 32
Smithers, Capt., 38
Smyrna, 53
South Irish Horse, 3, 33
South Lancashire Regt., 6th Batt., 97, 185
South Wales Borderers, 4th Batt., 186, 194
South Wales Borderers’ Gully, 188, 200, 230
Stafford, Rev. Father, G.F., 219
Stannus, Major, 80, 88
Stanton, 2nd Lt., 179
Stopford, Lt.-Gen. Sir F., 53, 59
Street, Capt., 105
Susuk Kuyu, 186
Suvla Bay, 57, 59, 103, 109, 210
Suvla Point, 121
Tekke Tepe, 122
13th Division, 58, 59, 94, 96
Tippet, Major, 139
Tobin, Capt., 156, 176
Transport (Regimental), 31, 33
Travers, Lt., 144
Troy, 51
29th Division, 23, 42, 55, 185, 199, 213, 238
29th Indian Brigade, 55, 58, 93, 94, 96, 187
Tynte, Major, 165
Vandeleur, Brig.-Gen., 217
Vanrenen, Lt.-Col., 37, 168, 241
Vernon, Capt., 168
Victoria Gully, 78
Waller, Lt., 149, 150, 207
Warwickshire Regt., Royal, 9th Batt., 102, 105
Weatherill, 2nd Lt., 176
Wilford, Major, 103, 120
Wilkin, Pte., 176
Willington, Lt., 89
Wiltshire Regt., 5th Batt., 84, 96, 100, 102, 105
Worship, Lt.-Col., 36, 149, 214
Yilghin Burnu (Green Hill), 123, 127-135, 152, 159
[Illustration: MAP OF THE ANZAC-SUVLA AREA
_Stanford’s Geog.^l Estab.^t, London._
Dotted Line ........... represents roughly the boundary of Anzac Area
on Aug. 4, 1915.]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Table in Humber’s _Water Supply of Cities and Towns_ (London,
1876), p. 86.—Quoted by Hodgkin in “Italy and her Invaders,” Vol. 4,
p. 172.
[2] _Numbers in History_, by Dr. Hans Delbrück, London University
Press, 1914.
[3] The exact figures are:—
Killed Wounded Missing
Officers. Other Officers. Other Officers. Other
ranks. ranks. ranks.
Busaco 1 30 8 94 — —
Ciudad Rodrigo — 7 4 23 — —
Badajoz 3 28 7 106 — —
Salamanca 2 11 4 110 — 8
Kaba Kuyu 3 43 9 159 — 47
Nearly all
killed.
The Peninsular figures are taken from Oman’s _Peninsular War_,
Volumes III and V.
* * * * *
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to tell about them. Among the long list are King Edward VII, King
George V and Queen Mary, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught, the
Duke of Cambridge, Admiral Dewey (of Manila fame), Lord Roberts,
Lord Kitchener, Lord Methuen, Lord William Beresford, Sir William
Robertson, Sir Douglas Haig, Sir Robert Baden-Powell, Sir Edward
Chichester and the ubiquitous Kaiser, who once wept because he was
not an Englishman! Sir George also tells many interesting things
about native ways and customs, dogs and horses, in short of the
thousand and one things that come the way of a very observant man
who has lived a life full of incident and adventure, and who is
also gifted with a clever pen.
MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET
By A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE. With Numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
12/6 net. Inland Postage 6d. extra. Third Printing.
Among others who appear in this volume are:—
King Edward VII
Queen Mary
The Duchess of Teck
The Duke of Clarence
The late Empress of Austria
Sir Ian Hamilton
Baker Pasha
Mr. A. J. Balfour
Col. Fred. Burnaby
Lord Cromer
De Lesseps
Sir Charles Dilke
Garibaldi
Sir William Harcourt
Lord Kitchener
Cardinal Manning
Lord Londonderry (the 5th Marquess)
Cecil Rhodes
Lord Roberts
RUSSIA
IN
REVOLUTION
By an Eye-Witness (Stinton Jones)
A remarkable book produced in a remarkable manner. It was written,
printed (5,000 copies), blocks made (16 full page), bound in cloth
and distributed to the booksellers in TWENTY DAYS.
It is written by an Englishman who has lived for 12 years in Russia,
married a Russian, and during the whole FIVE DAYS of Revolution was
in the streets of Petrograd with the mobs.
It is the only consecutive story of what took place, for what
the writer did not see, he was told by his friends among the
Revolutionary leaders and Members of the Duma. Just published. 5/-
net.
FIRST REVIEWS
TRUTH “Of extraordinary value.”
DAILY GRAPHIC “A notable bit of history.”
NATIONAL NEWS “A fascinating story of events.”
LAND & WATER “Reads almost like a fairy tale.”
ILLUS. LONDON NEWS “An absorbing and valuable book.”
MORNING POST “A picturesque account of the critical days
at Petrograd.”
DAILY TELEGRAPH “His book is absorbingly interesting and
extremely valuable.”
OUTLOOK “Undoubtedly the best story of what has
happened in Petrograd.”
BYSTANDER “Some of it reads like a romance. The
book is no small achievement.”
HERBERT JENKINS LTD., YORK STREET, ST. JAMES’S, S.W.1
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
when a predominant preference was found in the original book.
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Pg 93: ‘between the Asmah’ replaced by ‘between the Asmak’.
Pg 95: ‘_The_ Anzac Sap’ replaced by ‘_The Anzac Sap_’.
Pg 97: ‘the Gurkhas and’ replaced by ‘the Ghurkas and’.
Pg 122: ‘of Anafarta Sagir’ replaced by ‘of Anafarta Saghir’.
Pg 130: ‘the Azmak Dere’ replaced by ‘the Asmak Dere’.
Pg 141: ‘Sveral men were’ replaced by ‘Several men were’.
Pg 161: ‘able to adminster’ replaced by ‘able to administer’.
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Pg 209: ‘with thier units’ replaced by ‘with their units’.
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