This more formal account of the action on 25th April 1915 comes from The Story of the Great War, Volume III (of VIII) History of the European War from Official Sources.
By one o'clock on the morning of Sunday, April 25, 1915, the allied expeditionary force had arrived within five miles of the Gallipoli shore. Under cover of darkness the final dispositions were made and the ships maneuvered so that the timing of the several landings would be accurately synchronized. Shortly after one o'clock the landing boats were lowered from the transports.
Strung in lines of four and five the boats were slowly towed toward shore by steam pinnaces. Not a sound was heard but the panting of the engines of the little boats. The speed was accurately calculated to bring the parties close in shore with the first break of the dawn.
Accompanying the Australian and New Zealand troops, were a number of destroyers. Just as they reached the shallow water in front of the cliffs of Gaba Tepe, a Turkish lookout spied them in the hazy light of the morning. Instantly he gave the alarm and a flaring searchlight flashed its rays on the little flotilla.
The need for silence had disappeared. With a cheer the British troops leaped from their boats into the shoal water and splashed their way ashore. While many of them were still in their boats, however, the Turks opened fired. The whole ground had been carefully prepared and from every cover on the shore and the cliffs beyond a deadly fire was poured upon the Colonial troops.
Without faltering, however, the Australian and New Zealand troops, supported by a squadron of battleships and destroyers, came on straight at the strongly intrenched Turks. The first of the Australians to reach the shore were the Third Brigade under Colonel Sinclair Maglagan. With a rush they charged the first Turkish lines, bayoneted the defenders, and scrambled up the steep cliffs that rise a hundred feet in the air.
Fortunately for the British troops, as these and subsequent events proved, there had been a slight miscalculation in the landing, and the men had actually gone ashore a mile and a half northeast of Gaba Tepe, instead of at that point. Gaba Tepe is so rugged and uninviting that it was believed that the Turks would not trouble to intrench it. Actually the Turks appeared to have intrenched and prepared every inch of the coast. But at Sari Bair, where the Australian and New Zealand troops actually landed, the character of the ground, although not so advantageous at first, afforded much more protection once the men were ashore. Sir Ian Hamilton, in his graphic account of the operations, subsequently said:
"Owing to the tows having failed to maintain their exact direction, the actual point of disembarkation was rather more than a mile north of that which I had selected, and was more closely overhung by steeper cliffs. Although this accident increased the initial difficulty of driving the enemy off the heights inland, it has since proved itself to have been a blessing in disguise, inasmuch as the actual base of the force of occupation had been much better defiladed from shell fire.
"The beach on which the landing was actually effected is a very narrow strip of sand about 1,000 yards in length, bounded on the north and the south by two small promontories. At its (p. 442) southern extremity, a deep ravine with exceedingly deep, scrub-clad sides, runs inland in a northeasterly direction. Near the northern end of the beach a small but steep gully runs up into the hills at right angles to the shore. Between the ravine and the gully the whole of the beach is baked by the seaward face of the spur which forms the northwestern side of the ravine. From the top of the spur the ground falls almost sheer, except near the southern limit of the beach where gentler slopes give access to the mouth of the ravine behind. Farther inland lie in a tangled knot the under-features of Sari Bair separated by deep ravines which take a most confusing diversity of direction. Sharp spurs, covered with dense scrub and falling away in many places in precipitous sandy cliffs, radiate from the principal mass of the mountain, from which they run northwest, west, southwest and south to the coast."
As fresh British troops came ashore they cast aside their heavy packs and followed their comrades across the forty feet of open beach and into the scrub that covered the side of the cliffs. Halfway up the Turks had prepared a second position. Attacking it in open formation the Third Brigade succeeded in clearing it within fifteen minutes of the time they came ashore, despite the desperate and brave defense of the Turks.
Meanwhile some of the landing boats, subjected to the terrible fire of the Turkish guns, were having a bad time. The towing ropes of three of them were cut by the fire and the boats drifted helplessly about under the withering rain of bullets that rapidly wiped out their cargoes of men. But despite these mishaps the First and Second Brigades were hurried ashore to support the Third. Soon, in the face of terrible difficulties including the narrowness of the beach, there were between 3,000 and 4,000 allied troops ashore.
By this time the Turks, by means of the mobile carriages prepared for them by the Germans, had maneuvered some heavy artillery into position on the heights inland. Also some of their warships, moored in the Narrows, began throwing heavy shells across the peninsula into the allied fleet standing close inshore. So dangerous and accurate became this fire that the transports (had to be ordered out to sea and this delayed the operations seriously.
At Gaba Tepe and on the heights to the north of the beach the Turks posted guns and enfiladed the Narrows beach. Thus the troops, as they landed, had to make their way through a rain of shrapnel, machine gun and rifle fire that wiped out hundreds. Despite the success of the Australian Brigades in clearing the beach and the face of the cliff, the Turkish fire never seemed to slacken.
Because of the nature of the country there could be no central control over the advance fighting and no continued communications between the several forces making their way to the top of the cliffs. The battle resolved itself into a series of fights between small parties, or even individual soldiers, whose one object was to kill as many of the enemy as possible and make their way as far inland as possible in the first rush.
By two o'clock about twelve British regiments had been landed and the ground gained consolidated and prepared against counterattack. Thousands of Turkish troops were by this time pouring along the road from Maidos and by the middle of the afternoon it was calculated that there were fully 20,000 of them before the Australian and New Zealand troops. The latter, in the meantime, had been further reenforced by two batteries of Indian Mountain Artillery. The pressure of the constantly increasing Turkish force compelled General Birdwood, who came ashore about this time, to contract his lines and to reach a decision that, at that time at least and until the arrival of more troops, no further advance could be made. The Gaba Tepe landing had not been the surprise that was expected and the Turks had proved to be in unexpected strength.
About three o'clock the Turkish counterattacks began. Absolutely regardless of human life, they threw themselves in dense masses against the Second and Third Brigades. The British battleships, the Queen, the London, the Prince of Wales, the Triumph and the Majestic, posted close inshore, poured a devastating fire on the advancing Turkish troops as they came into the open.
About five o'clock the Turks, after repeated assaults upon the British lines, massed for a final attempt to drive the invaders into the sea. On and on they came, concentrating on the hard-pressed Third Brigade as the weak spot in the British defense. Fighting gamely against heavy odds, this Australian Brigade which had borne the brunt of the landing attack and which had been almost continually counterattacked all afternoon, gave way slowly, selling every inch of ground dearly. Hundreds of the brave Turkish troops were mown down by the machine guns which the Australians had by this time brought ashore. At nightfall, however, General Birdwood, as a consequence of the persistence of the enemy, had to contract his lines further.
As night settled on the battle field on the ridge above Gaba Tepe and Sari Bair, and the two forces rested from sheer exhaustion, the British troops, who once were well inland toward Maidos, their objective, were barely hanging onto the ridge overlooking the shore of the Gulf of Saros. All their water and food and munitions and reenforcements had to be brought ashore across the exposed beach, while the landing of the necessary artillery in the face of the Turkish fire was a feat to appal the bravest. But though their hold on their position was precarious it was tenacious and, in the end, effective. If they had not won all they expected to win they had at least won a foothold in the face of terrific difficulties.
While the Australians and New Zealanders were fighting desperately beyond Gaba Tepe, the other forces of the allied army were accomplishing similar deeds of heroism at the tip of the peninsula.
Coming down the coast of the peninsula from Gaba Tepe, about three miles from the extreme southwestern tip, was what was known as Beach Y. It was almost due west of the important town of Krithia, and the landing was intended primarily to protect the left flank of the British landing forces from attack by the considerable forces believed to be concentrated there.
The actual landing seems to have been somewhat of a surprise to the Turks. Indeed, subsequent events showed that they were correct in their estimate that a landing at the so-called Beach Y would be a mistake. A narrow strip of sandy beach led to the cliffs, two hundred feet high, that were believed to be almost unscalable. It is easy to be wise after the event, but military writers subsequently declared that if the Turks had been prepared to defend the position, the force that landed at Beach Y would have been wiped out in the preliminary attempt to establish a footing.
The force assigned to this point of attack consisted of the First King's Own Scottish Borderers, and the Plymouth Battalion of the Royal Naval Division, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Koe. The latter was under orders, if the landing proved successful, to work his way south to effect a junction with the force landing at Beach X, some two miles away.
About five o'clock, Koe's force appeared off Beach Y, on the transports Braemar Castle and Southland, and escorted by the battleship Goliath, and the cruisers Amethyst and Sapphire. The Turks had posted a large force at Beach Y 2, between Beach Y and Beach X, but half of the Scottish Borderers were ashore before the Turkish command had realized what was happening. As a result Colonel Koe's force was partly established on the cliffs before the Turks had begun to arrive.
But if the initial stages were unexpectedly easy for this force, difficulties soon developed. Once on the heights, Colonel Koe ordered an advance to link up with the force at Beach X. The British troops had not gone far when they ran into the Turkish troops from Beach Y. So large was this force and so determined an opposition did it offer to the British troops that Colonel Koe soon decided it would be impossible, with the two battalions at his disposal, to accomplish the task assigned him.
Early in the afternoon the little British force was dismayed by the approach on its left flank of a large force of Turks from Krithia, which threatened to cut it off from the landing beach. Reluctantly Colonel Koe, just before he received a fatal wound, gave the order to intrench
Showing posts with label Gallipoli Landings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gallipoli Landings. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Gallipoli Landing - THE LANDING THAT COULD NOT SUCCEED—BUT DID
Yesterday 25th April 2011 was the 96th anniversary of the Gallipoli landings.
In the excellent book “Over There" with the Australians by R. Hugh Knyvett, there is a fantastic description of that day and the achievement of the ANZAC’s.
THE LANDING THAT COULD NOT SUCCEED—BUT DID
Picture yourself on a ship that was more crowded with men than ever ship had been before, in a harbor more crowded with ships than ever harbor had been crowded before, with more fears in your mind than had ever crowded into it before, knowing that in a few hours you would see battle for the first time. Having comrades crowding round, bidding you good-bye and informing you that as your regimental number added up to thirteen, you would be the first to die, remembering that you hadn't said your prayers for years, and then comforting yourself with the realization that what is going to happen will happen, and that an appeal to the general will not stop the battle, anyway, and you may as well die like a man, and you will feel as did many of those young lads, on the eve of the 25th of April, 1915. There was some premonition of death in those congregations of khaki-clad men who gathered round the padres on each ship and sang "God be with you till we meet again." You could see in men's faces that they knew they were "going west" on the morrow—but it was a swan-song that could not paralyze the arm or daunt the heart of these young Greathearts, who intended that on this morrow they would do deeds that would make their mothers proud of them.
"For if you 'as to die,
As it sometimes 'appens, why,
Far better die a 'ero than a skunk;
A' doin' of yer bit."
As soon as church-parade was dismissed, another song was on the boards, no hymn, maybe not fine poetry, but the song that will be always associated with the story of Australia's doings in the great war, Australia's battle-song—"Australia Will Be There"—immortalized on the Southland and Ballarat, as it was sung by the soldiers thereon, when they stood in the sea-water that was covering the decks of those torpedoed troop-ships. It was now sung by every Australian voice, and as those crowded troop-ships moved out from Lemnos they truly carried "Australia," eager, untried Australia—where?
The next day showed to the world that "Australia would always be there!" where the fight raged thickest. Her sons might sometimes penetrate the enemy's territory too far, but hereafter, and till the war's end, they would always be in the front line, storming with the foremost for freedom and democracy.
The landing could not possibly be a surprise to the Turks; the British and French warships had advertised our coming by a preliminary bombardment weeks previously—the Greeks knew all about our concentration in their waters—and wasn't the Queen of Greece sister to the Kaiser?
There were only about two places where we could possibly land, and the Turks were not merely warned of our intentions, but they were warned in plenty of time for them to prepare for us a warm reception. The schooling and method of the Germans had united with the ingenuity of the Turks to make those beaches the unhealthiest spots on the globe. The Germans plainly believed that a landing was impossible.
Think of those beaches, with land and sea mines, densely strewn with barbed wire (even into deep water), with machine-guns arranged so that every yard of sand and water would be swept, by direct, indirect, and cross fire, with a hose-like stream of bullets; think of thousands of field-pieces and howitzers ready, ranged, and set, so that they would spray the sand and whip the sea, merely by the pulling of triggers. Think of a force larger than the intended landing-party entrenched, with their rifles loaded and their range known, behind all manner of overhead cover and wire entanglements, and then remember that you are one of a party that has to step ashore there from an open boat, and kill, or drive far enough inland, these enemy soldiers to enable your stores to be landed so that when you have defeated him, you may not perish of starvation. Far more than at Balaclava did these young men from "down under" walk "right into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell!" And the Turks waited till they were well within the jaws before they opened fire. No one in the landing force knew where the Turks were, and the Turks did not fire on us until we got to the zone which they had so prepared that all might perish that entered there. They could see us clearly, the crowded open boats were targets of naked flesh that could not be missed. Was there ever a more favorable setting for a massacre? The Turks in burning Armenian villages with their women and children had not easier tasks than that entrenched army. Our men in the boats were too crowded to use their rifles, and the boats were too close in for the supporting war-ships to keep down the fire from those trenches. How was any one left alive? By calculation of the odds not one man should have set foot on that shore. Make a successful landing, enabling us to occupy a portion of that soil! What an impossible task!
To the men in those boats and the men watching from the ships, it appeared as if not merely the expedition had failed, but that not a man of the landing force would survive. Boats were riddled with bullets and sunk—other boats drifted helplessly as there were not enough alive to row them—men jumped into the bullet-formed spray to swim ashore but were caught in the barbed wire and drowned. Who could expect success, but it nevertheless happened! The Turks were sure that we could not land, yet we did. Not only did those boys set foot on those beaches, but the remnant of that landing-party drove the Turks out of their entrenchments up cliffs five hundred feet high, and entrenched themselves on the summit. How did they do it? No one knows; the men who were there don't know themselves. Did heaven intervene? Perhaps spiritual forces may sometimes paralyze material. It must be that right has physical might, else why didn't the Kaiser get to Paris? Mathematics and preparedness were on his side; by all reasoning Germany ought to have overwhelmed the world in a few months, with the superiority of her armament, but she didn't. The Turks ought to have kept us off the Peninsula, by all laws of logic and arithmetic, and they didn't. I really think the landing succeeded because those boys thought they had failed.
They must have believed themselves doomed—they could see that there were too few to accomplish what was even doubtful when the force was intact. When they were on the shore they must have felt that it was impossible that they could be taken off again. All the time more were falling, and soon it seemed that every last man must be massacred. They made up their minds that, at any rate, they would get a few of the swine before they went.
Every man believed that in the end he must be killed, but determined to sell his life as dearly as possible, and that made them the supermen that could not be "held back." A whole platoon would be cut down, but somehow one or two would manage to get into the trench, where, of necessity, it was hand-to-hand work, and with laughing disregard of the odds would lay out a score of the enemy and send the others fleeing before them, who would yell out that they were fighting demons from hell. After the confusion in the boats, and from the fact that in most cases companies were entirely without officers, there was no forming up for charges—indeed, there were no orders at all, but every man knew that he could not but be doing the right thing every time he killed a Turk, so they just took their rifle and bayonet in their naked hands and went to it. There was no line of battle, it was just here, there, and everywhere, khaki-clad, laughing demons, seeking Turks to kill.
Never was there fighting like this. All that day it went on. On the beach, up the cliff, in the gullies, miles inland were men fighting. It was not a battle; it would have made a master of tactics weep and tear his hair, but these man-to-man fights kept on. Many were shot from behind, many were wounded and fell in places where no one would find them—some, fighting on, went in a circle and found themselves back on the beach again. However, at nightfall some had begun to dig a shallow line of trenches, well inland across the cliff. Single men and small groups of them, not finding any more Turks where they were, fell back into this ditch and helped deepen it.
Fresh Turks were massing for counter-attack, and soon came on with fury, but we were something like an army now, and although the line had to be shortened it never broke. The landing had been made good, the impossible had been achieved. But there were many who died strange deaths, many left way in, helpless, who could not be succored—many whom the fighting lust led so far that when they thought of seeking their comrades they found the barrier of a Turkish army now intervening. Strange, unknown duels and combats were fought that day. Unknown are the "Bill-Jims" who killed scores with naked hand—there were many such. Though we beat the Turk with the odds in his favor, yet this day and afterward he earned our respect as a fighting man.
"East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat.
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the Earth."
The Australian had proved himself the fiercest fighter of the world… As one naval officer remarked, they fought not as men but devils. Many have said that much of the loss of life was needless, that had the Australians kept together and waited for orders not so many would have been cut off in the bush. It was true that the impetuosity of many took them too far to return, but it was that very quality that won the day. They did not return, but they drove the Turk before them and enabled others to dig in before he could re-form. You would have to go back to mediaeval times to parallel this fighting. There were impetuosity, dash, initiative, berserker rage, fierce hand-to-hand fighting, every man his own general.
These were not the only qualities of the Australian fighting men, but these alone could have succeeded on that day. When the time came for evacuation of those hardly won and held trenches, these same troops gave evidence of the possession of the opposite attributes of coolness, silence, patience, co-ordination; every man acting as part of a single unit, under control of a single will—which is discipline!
In the excellent book “Over There" with the Australians by R. Hugh Knyvett, there is a fantastic description of that day and the achievement of the ANZAC’s.
THE LANDING THAT COULD NOT SUCCEED—BUT DID
Picture yourself on a ship that was more crowded with men than ever ship had been before, in a harbor more crowded with ships than ever harbor had been crowded before, with more fears in your mind than had ever crowded into it before, knowing that in a few hours you would see battle for the first time. Having comrades crowding round, bidding you good-bye and informing you that as your regimental number added up to thirteen, you would be the first to die, remembering that you hadn't said your prayers for years, and then comforting yourself with the realization that what is going to happen will happen, and that an appeal to the general will not stop the battle, anyway, and you may as well die like a man, and you will feel as did many of those young lads, on the eve of the 25th of April, 1915. There was some premonition of death in those congregations of khaki-clad men who gathered round the padres on each ship and sang "God be with you till we meet again." You could see in men's faces that they knew they were "going west" on the morrow—but it was a swan-song that could not paralyze the arm or daunt the heart of these young Greathearts, who intended that on this morrow they would do deeds that would make their mothers proud of them.
"For if you 'as to die,
As it sometimes 'appens, why,
Far better die a 'ero than a skunk;
A' doin' of yer bit."
As soon as church-parade was dismissed, another song was on the boards, no hymn, maybe not fine poetry, but the song that will be always associated with the story of Australia's doings in the great war, Australia's battle-song—"Australia Will Be There"—immortalized on the Southland and Ballarat, as it was sung by the soldiers thereon, when they stood in the sea-water that was covering the decks of those torpedoed troop-ships. It was now sung by every Australian voice, and as those crowded troop-ships moved out from Lemnos they truly carried "Australia," eager, untried Australia—where?
The next day showed to the world that "Australia would always be there!" where the fight raged thickest. Her sons might sometimes penetrate the enemy's territory too far, but hereafter, and till the war's end, they would always be in the front line, storming with the foremost for freedom and democracy.
The landing could not possibly be a surprise to the Turks; the British and French warships had advertised our coming by a preliminary bombardment weeks previously—the Greeks knew all about our concentration in their waters—and wasn't the Queen of Greece sister to the Kaiser?
There were only about two places where we could possibly land, and the Turks were not merely warned of our intentions, but they were warned in plenty of time for them to prepare for us a warm reception. The schooling and method of the Germans had united with the ingenuity of the Turks to make those beaches the unhealthiest spots on the globe. The Germans plainly believed that a landing was impossible.
Think of those beaches, with land and sea mines, densely strewn with barbed wire (even into deep water), with machine-guns arranged so that every yard of sand and water would be swept, by direct, indirect, and cross fire, with a hose-like stream of bullets; think of thousands of field-pieces and howitzers ready, ranged, and set, so that they would spray the sand and whip the sea, merely by the pulling of triggers. Think of a force larger than the intended landing-party entrenched, with their rifles loaded and their range known, behind all manner of overhead cover and wire entanglements, and then remember that you are one of a party that has to step ashore there from an open boat, and kill, or drive far enough inland, these enemy soldiers to enable your stores to be landed so that when you have defeated him, you may not perish of starvation. Far more than at Balaclava did these young men from "down under" walk "right into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell!" And the Turks waited till they were well within the jaws before they opened fire. No one in the landing force knew where the Turks were, and the Turks did not fire on us until we got to the zone which they had so prepared that all might perish that entered there. They could see us clearly, the crowded open boats were targets of naked flesh that could not be missed. Was there ever a more favorable setting for a massacre? The Turks in burning Armenian villages with their women and children had not easier tasks than that entrenched army. Our men in the boats were too crowded to use their rifles, and the boats were too close in for the supporting war-ships to keep down the fire from those trenches. How was any one left alive? By calculation of the odds not one man should have set foot on that shore. Make a successful landing, enabling us to occupy a portion of that soil! What an impossible task!
To the men in those boats and the men watching from the ships, it appeared as if not merely the expedition had failed, but that not a man of the landing force would survive. Boats were riddled with bullets and sunk—other boats drifted helplessly as there were not enough alive to row them—men jumped into the bullet-formed spray to swim ashore but were caught in the barbed wire and drowned. Who could expect success, but it nevertheless happened! The Turks were sure that we could not land, yet we did. Not only did those boys set foot on those beaches, but the remnant of that landing-party drove the Turks out of their entrenchments up cliffs five hundred feet high, and entrenched themselves on the summit. How did they do it? No one knows; the men who were there don't know themselves. Did heaven intervene? Perhaps spiritual forces may sometimes paralyze material. It must be that right has physical might, else why didn't the Kaiser get to Paris? Mathematics and preparedness were on his side; by all reasoning Germany ought to have overwhelmed the world in a few months, with the superiority of her armament, but she didn't. The Turks ought to have kept us off the Peninsula, by all laws of logic and arithmetic, and they didn't. I really think the landing succeeded because those boys thought they had failed.
They must have believed themselves doomed—they could see that there were too few to accomplish what was even doubtful when the force was intact. When they were on the shore they must have felt that it was impossible that they could be taken off again. All the time more were falling, and soon it seemed that every last man must be massacred. They made up their minds that, at any rate, they would get a few of the swine before they went.
Every man believed that in the end he must be killed, but determined to sell his life as dearly as possible, and that made them the supermen that could not be "held back." A whole platoon would be cut down, but somehow one or two would manage to get into the trench, where, of necessity, it was hand-to-hand work, and with laughing disregard of the odds would lay out a score of the enemy and send the others fleeing before them, who would yell out that they were fighting demons from hell. After the confusion in the boats, and from the fact that in most cases companies were entirely without officers, there was no forming up for charges—indeed, there were no orders at all, but every man knew that he could not but be doing the right thing every time he killed a Turk, so they just took their rifle and bayonet in their naked hands and went to it. There was no line of battle, it was just here, there, and everywhere, khaki-clad, laughing demons, seeking Turks to kill.
Never was there fighting like this. All that day it went on. On the beach, up the cliff, in the gullies, miles inland were men fighting. It was not a battle; it would have made a master of tactics weep and tear his hair, but these man-to-man fights kept on. Many were shot from behind, many were wounded and fell in places where no one would find them—some, fighting on, went in a circle and found themselves back on the beach again. However, at nightfall some had begun to dig a shallow line of trenches, well inland across the cliff. Single men and small groups of them, not finding any more Turks where they were, fell back into this ditch and helped deepen it.
Fresh Turks were massing for counter-attack, and soon came on with fury, but we were something like an army now, and although the line had to be shortened it never broke. The landing had been made good, the impossible had been achieved. But there were many who died strange deaths, many left way in, helpless, who could not be succored—many whom the fighting lust led so far that when they thought of seeking their comrades they found the barrier of a Turkish army now intervening. Strange, unknown duels and combats were fought that day. Unknown are the "Bill-Jims" who killed scores with naked hand—there were many such. Though we beat the Turk with the odds in his favor, yet this day and afterward he earned our respect as a fighting man.
"East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat.
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the Earth."
The Australian had proved himself the fiercest fighter of the world… As one naval officer remarked, they fought not as men but devils. Many have said that much of the loss of life was needless, that had the Australians kept together and waited for orders not so many would have been cut off in the bush. It was true that the impetuosity of many took them too far to return, but it was that very quality that won the day. They did not return, but they drove the Turk before them and enabled others to dig in before he could re-form. You would have to go back to mediaeval times to parallel this fighting. There were impetuosity, dash, initiative, berserker rage, fierce hand-to-hand fighting, every man his own general.
These were not the only qualities of the Australian fighting men, but these alone could have succeeded on that day. When the time came for evacuation of those hardly won and held trenches, these same troops gave evidence of the possession of the opposite attributes of coolness, silence, patience, co-ordination; every man acting as part of a single unit, under control of a single will—which is discipline!
Friday, May 08, 2009
Gallipoli Landings- Pte. James Hood MM, 6th Battalion, AIF.
This account is by Pte, James William Hood of the 6th Battalion, AIF and was published in the WEST WIMMERA MAIL on July 16th, 1915.
Private Hood did not actually take part in the Landing at Gallipoli on April 25th, but saw all the action on board ship with the unloading party. His account offers a unique perspective of the landings.
"Private Jim HOOD, son of Mrs. HOOD of Polkemmet, has written two interesting letters home. The first was written on May 2 on the troop ship Galeka, off Alexandria, and is as follows:--
"I suppose you were pleased to hear that Australia won her first victory in one of the severest battles of the war. I was unlucky enough to miss it, as I was left on board to help unload in the hold party, and after the hospital ships were filled with wounded they sent them onto our boat, and so we have been nurses and general sickmen's orderlies ever since. It was a rotten job, just about turned me up. I thought I could stand blood. They talk about the way the Germans play dirty tricks, but the Turks can loose them at it. They hold up the white flag and then shoot our men as soon as they approach them. German officers are everywhere in our uniforms, giving our men orders in English, and playing our bugle calls to entice our men out of the trenches. The Turks seem to use more explosive bullets then any other kind.
The wounds they give are awful. One chap had his hand blown off with the explosion. In the trenches they pop off above you just like crackers, and when you open them there is just an outer coat of nickle, filled with powder and a little soft lead to hold the powder in. The troops landed on my birthday. We had the ship right close to the shore, and the shrapnel was flying all over us. It was a terrible rough landing for the boys. First time under fire, and an awful lot were shot in the boats before they reached shore. One boat was sunk by a shell going through it, and the men were picked up in the water. The boys behaved beautifully. They charged as soon as they landed, in fact they jumped out up to their necks in water and charged the Turkish trenches 50 yards from the shore, and then chased the Turks a mile and a half inland.
Their snipers took heavy toll of our men. You couldn't see them 12 yds from you and they just murdered our chaps wholesale. One sniper they shot had 12 identification discs and about £200 in Australian money from those he had shot, and another had wristlet watches up to his elbow on one arm. I suppose you will have heard all this news long before you get this letter; but we have no time to think of anything else at present, as you may guess. It is a unique experience for all of us, and it is a scene that some of us will never forget. There are a lot of our fellows gone. Three of my mates at Mena are dead and two more wounded. Goodbye for the present. I will write first chance, but we land in firing line this week. Love to all home and Polkemmet, and to all the girls near home.
The second letter is thrilling :--
Some spot in Turkey, May 18 -- I must write a line to let you know I am still going strong, though the shrapnel are screaming musically about and above our heads, and rifles and machine guns are also doing their share of the orchestra. I don't know where my mail has been getting to, as I have only had two letters since we left Mena on the 14th of April. I met Bruce GREGSON (wounded) the other day, but he is back in the firing line again. If the Australians can do nothing else they can play this game well. At present they are laughing and joking at every shell that comes. It is funny the difference between death in civil life and death here. It seems such a common thing to expect to get your turn, and still it doesn't come, and even when you see a friend shot you have no time to do anything but just fire on for all your worth.
There is one thing about the Turks, you can't bayonet them, because they won't wait for you and you have no chance of catching them for they run like hares. They say this is more serious fighting than that in France, and they call it "Hell on Earth". It is worse here because it is full of bullets, Lyddite, hand grenades, shrapnel and various other articles. Tell the girls I have no time for more than one letter and not much time for that. I am writing this on my water bottle, well down in the ground in a dug out with just room for three in it. Jack CHARLTON, Will HOLDEN, and myself all writing. It may be the last time for months or it may be forever (Kathleen Mavourneen style). Someone just sang out that from the amount of fireworks there were here he reckoned it was the 5th November and not 18th May. The light horse are in the trenches with the infantry now. Goodbye mother. Say goodbye to all I know, as it is 10:1 chance if I ever see them again. You can't realise what it is like.
[ An official post card, dated May 20, said he was well, but have since heard that he was wounded on June 24 ]
Later Mrs. HOOD informed us yesterday that she received a wire the night before containing the bad news that her son had been severely wounded in the right leg. "
James William Hood enlisted on 14th September 1914, in the 6th Battalion AIF as 2nd Reinforcement, he was injured in 1915 and returned to Australia.
However, he reenlisted when recovered on the 16th March 1916 again with the 6th Battalion, 18th Reinforcement.
On 18th August 1918 he was awarded the Military Medal for his bravery during the Battle of Lihons.
The citation reads:
Military Medal
'For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty on the 10th day of August 1918 at LIHONS. During the attack this Stretcher Bearer did magnificent work and displayed great courage in going out under heavy Machine Gun and rifle fire across extremely flat and open country and rescuing wounded. On many separate occasions, after his comrade had become a casualty, he bandaged the wounded by himself and at great personal risk repeatedly carried them great distances on his back to a place of safety. His courage was superb.' (Source: 'Commonwealth Gazette' No. 109. Date: 15 September 1919).
He survived the war and returned to Australia on 22nd August 1919.
Private Hood did not actually take part in the Landing at Gallipoli on April 25th, but saw all the action on board ship with the unloading party. His account offers a unique perspective of the landings.
"Private Jim HOOD, son of Mrs. HOOD of Polkemmet, has written two interesting letters home. The first was written on May 2 on the troop ship Galeka, off Alexandria, and is as follows:--
"I suppose you were pleased to hear that Australia won her first victory in one of the severest battles of the war. I was unlucky enough to miss it, as I was left on board to help unload in the hold party, and after the hospital ships were filled with wounded they sent them onto our boat, and so we have been nurses and general sickmen's orderlies ever since. It was a rotten job, just about turned me up. I thought I could stand blood. They talk about the way the Germans play dirty tricks, but the Turks can loose them at it. They hold up the white flag and then shoot our men as soon as they approach them. German officers are everywhere in our uniforms, giving our men orders in English, and playing our bugle calls to entice our men out of the trenches. The Turks seem to use more explosive bullets then any other kind.
The wounds they give are awful. One chap had his hand blown off with the explosion. In the trenches they pop off above you just like crackers, and when you open them there is just an outer coat of nickle, filled with powder and a little soft lead to hold the powder in. The troops landed on my birthday. We had the ship right close to the shore, and the shrapnel was flying all over us. It was a terrible rough landing for the boys. First time under fire, and an awful lot were shot in the boats before they reached shore. One boat was sunk by a shell going through it, and the men were picked up in the water. The boys behaved beautifully. They charged as soon as they landed, in fact they jumped out up to their necks in water and charged the Turkish trenches 50 yards from the shore, and then chased the Turks a mile and a half inland.
Their snipers took heavy toll of our men. You couldn't see them 12 yds from you and they just murdered our chaps wholesale. One sniper they shot had 12 identification discs and about £200 in Australian money from those he had shot, and another had wristlet watches up to his elbow on one arm. I suppose you will have heard all this news long before you get this letter; but we have no time to think of anything else at present, as you may guess. It is a unique experience for all of us, and it is a scene that some of us will never forget. There are a lot of our fellows gone. Three of my mates at Mena are dead and two more wounded. Goodbye for the present. I will write first chance, but we land in firing line this week. Love to all home and Polkemmet, and to all the girls near home.
The second letter is thrilling :--
Some spot in Turkey, May 18 -- I must write a line to let you know I am still going strong, though the shrapnel are screaming musically about and above our heads, and rifles and machine guns are also doing their share of the orchestra. I don't know where my mail has been getting to, as I have only had two letters since we left Mena on the 14th of April. I met Bruce GREGSON (wounded) the other day, but he is back in the firing line again. If the Australians can do nothing else they can play this game well. At present they are laughing and joking at every shell that comes. It is funny the difference between death in civil life and death here. It seems such a common thing to expect to get your turn, and still it doesn't come, and even when you see a friend shot you have no time to do anything but just fire on for all your worth.
There is one thing about the Turks, you can't bayonet them, because they won't wait for you and you have no chance of catching them for they run like hares. They say this is more serious fighting than that in France, and they call it "Hell on Earth". It is worse here because it is full of bullets, Lyddite, hand grenades, shrapnel and various other articles. Tell the girls I have no time for more than one letter and not much time for that. I am writing this on my water bottle, well down in the ground in a dug out with just room for three in it. Jack CHARLTON, Will HOLDEN, and myself all writing. It may be the last time for months or it may be forever (Kathleen Mavourneen style). Someone just sang out that from the amount of fireworks there were here he reckoned it was the 5th November and not 18th May. The light horse are in the trenches with the infantry now. Goodbye mother. Say goodbye to all I know, as it is 10:1 chance if I ever see them again. You can't realise what it is like.
[ An official post card, dated May 20, said he was well, but have since heard that he was wounded on June 24 ]
Later Mrs. HOOD informed us yesterday that she received a wire the night before containing the bad news that her son had been severely wounded in the right leg. "
James William Hood enlisted on 14th September 1914, in the 6th Battalion AIF as 2nd Reinforcement, he was injured in 1915 and returned to Australia.
However, he reenlisted when recovered on the 16th March 1916 again with the 6th Battalion, 18th Reinforcement.
On 18th August 1918 he was awarded the Military Medal for his bravery during the Battle of Lihons.
The citation reads:
Military Medal
'For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty on the 10th day of August 1918 at LIHONS. During the attack this Stretcher Bearer did magnificent work and displayed great courage in going out under heavy Machine Gun and rifle fire across extremely flat and open country and rescuing wounded. On many separate occasions, after his comrade had become a casualty, he bandaged the wounded by himself and at great personal risk repeatedly carried them great distances on his back to a place of safety. His courage was superb.' (Source: 'Commonwealth Gazette' No. 109. Date: 15 September 1919).
He survived the war and returned to Australia on 22nd August 1919.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Gallipoli Landings - Lance Corporal Viv Brown, 8th Battalion, AIF.
This report from the West Wimmera mail comes from Lance Corporal Vivian Charles Brown, 8th Battalion AIF.
He was a carpenter from Natimuk, Victoria. He enlisted on 19th August 1914 aged 27, regimental no. 643. He returned to Australia on 17th March 1917, injured.
A newspaper report of the 23rd June 1920 updates “Mr. Viv Brown is back in Natimuk from the Caulfield Military Hospital, where he underwent an operation on his foot, which was shattered by a shell.”
This account gives a different angle and even has time for some humour, “As the hills were very steep many rolled down instead of walking”.
Mrs. EKMAN writes:-- I noticed in your last issue that you stated my brother, Viv. C. BROWN was at Malta (minding prisoners), I beg to inform you, that is incorrect, because Monday, 21st June, I received a letter from him, which runs as follows:--
"Just a few lines to let you know I am still able to eat three meals a day. We are right in the thick of it here, if you know where "here" is, as we are not allowed to say where we are at present. We landed on a Sunday and I do not think I will ever forget it. The first salute we got was a hail of shrapnel as we rowed ashore in the boats, and as we got ashore it was like someone throwing stones. They (the stones) were flopping all around us. It was all uphill work.
There was a funny side to it as well. As the hills were very steep many rolled down instead of walking. I experienced it myself, and it was not too pleasant, as there was a lot of prickly bushes where I lobbed. The fire was not too bad until we got to another hill. Colonel GARTSIDES (he is dead now poor chap) said we would be under heavy fire when we were going down the other side, and he was quiet right, we were. I reckon I could have given any of the crack runners of "Nati" a start and then have beaten them down the next gully. I will ring off now as paper is scarce. H. HALLAM was the only one from Natimuk that got hit, he is still in the hospital. Remember me to all over there as I cannot write to everyone."
He was a carpenter from Natimuk, Victoria. He enlisted on 19th August 1914 aged 27, regimental no. 643. He returned to Australia on 17th March 1917, injured.
A newspaper report of the 23rd June 1920 updates “Mr. Viv Brown is back in Natimuk from the Caulfield Military Hospital, where he underwent an operation on his foot, which was shattered by a shell.”
This account gives a different angle and even has time for some humour, “As the hills were very steep many rolled down instead of walking”.
Mrs. EKMAN writes:-- I noticed in your last issue that you stated my brother, Viv. C. BROWN was at Malta (minding prisoners), I beg to inform you, that is incorrect, because Monday, 21st June, I received a letter from him, which runs as follows:--
"Just a few lines to let you know I am still able to eat three meals a day. We are right in the thick of it here, if you know where "here" is, as we are not allowed to say where we are at present. We landed on a Sunday and I do not think I will ever forget it. The first salute we got was a hail of shrapnel as we rowed ashore in the boats, and as we got ashore it was like someone throwing stones. They (the stones) were flopping all around us. It was all uphill work.
There was a funny side to it as well. As the hills were very steep many rolled down instead of walking. I experienced it myself, and it was not too pleasant, as there was a lot of prickly bushes where I lobbed. The fire was not too bad until we got to another hill. Colonel GARTSIDES (he is dead now poor chap) said we would be under heavy fire when we were going down the other side, and he was quiet right, we were. I reckon I could have given any of the crack runners of "Nati" a start and then have beaten them down the next gully. I will ring off now as paper is scarce. H. HALLAM was the only one from Natimuk that got hit, he is still in the hospital. Remember me to all over there as I cannot write to everyone."
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Gallipoli Landings - Pte Cecil Edmonson, 12th Battalion, AIF.
This letter appeared in the WEST WIMMERA MAIL on June 18th, 1915. Written to his mother by Pte. Cecil Edward Edmondson, 12th Battalion, AIF. He enlisted on 12th September 1914 no. 1021 and returned to Australia on 24th June 1916.
It gives a pretty graphic description of the landing and of how lucky he was not to get hit.
"This is the first opportunity I have had of writing to you. I am at a disadvantage at present, as I have lost all my belongings and have got no money, so couldn't get any paper until I got up, otherwise you would have heard sooner. We will be freshly equipped before we go back. I got a bullet in the leg, and have been waiting for the x-rays, but they have decided to leave the bullet in, as it doesn't seem to be going to affect me. I am at Cairo, but will be back at the front before you get this. No doubt you have an account of the landing in Turkey. It was rather a warm reception that we got, but our boys were very brave and fought against great odds. Poor old Australia, she has lost a lot of her best lads, and is likely to loose many more. Our officers were very brave, and the poor chaps were picked off in great numbers. Our battalion lost Colonel and Lieutenant. Colonel the first day, and I hear that our Captain, who was a splendid man, was wounded badly. No doubt you wondered where we were after we left Cairo.
We were at Lemnos Island, a Greek possession, not far from the Dardanelles. We did some hard training there, climbing big hills, rowing, climbing rope ladders off the boats on to destroyers. Our brigade, the 3rd, was the one chosen to land first, and they have got great praise. One would never think it possible to land troops there, and I'm sure we wouldn't have only for the warboats. The forts had there fire on us, also machine guns and rifles all day Sunday, and all through the night the firing kept up. It was a fearful row, battle ships behind, Turks big guns and machine guns in front and on the left of us, and our own guns as well. It was war in earnest ; but with all this noise, when I was relieved, I was able to sleep as soundly as if I were in bed. There were some fearful sights and I shall never forget them.
I don't mind the bullets so much, it is the shrapnel that is so terrible. The earth shakes under you when a shell bursts, and the effects are awful. Several of our men, where they burst close to them, were blown to pieces. There is a difference between shell and shrapnel. Shrapnel is a shell full of round bullets and when it burst the bullets go forward about 30 to 40 yards wide, and 200 to 300 yards forward, so you can see it is hard to dodge. I have had quiet a number of experiences, and can tell you I have been in about the thickest fire that has been experienced, and one can hardly believe he is alive the narrow shaves I have had. One experience out of a number was when I was lying wounded. I propped my head on my arm and a bullet went right through between my arm and head and hit a chap behind me in the chest. There are others waiting to write, so I must now leave you. Although we were at times in storms of bullets I wasn't at all afraid. I really think your boy would be a good soldier so don't worry about him. "
It gives a pretty graphic description of the landing and of how lucky he was not to get hit.
"This is the first opportunity I have had of writing to you. I am at a disadvantage at present, as I have lost all my belongings and have got no money, so couldn't get any paper until I got up, otherwise you would have heard sooner. We will be freshly equipped before we go back. I got a bullet in the leg, and have been waiting for the x-rays, but they have decided to leave the bullet in, as it doesn't seem to be going to affect me. I am at Cairo, but will be back at the front before you get this. No doubt you have an account of the landing in Turkey. It was rather a warm reception that we got, but our boys were very brave and fought against great odds. Poor old Australia, she has lost a lot of her best lads, and is likely to loose many more. Our officers were very brave, and the poor chaps were picked off in great numbers. Our battalion lost Colonel and Lieutenant. Colonel the first day, and I hear that our Captain, who was a splendid man, was wounded badly. No doubt you wondered where we were after we left Cairo.
We were at Lemnos Island, a Greek possession, not far from the Dardanelles. We did some hard training there, climbing big hills, rowing, climbing rope ladders off the boats on to destroyers. Our brigade, the 3rd, was the one chosen to land first, and they have got great praise. One would never think it possible to land troops there, and I'm sure we wouldn't have only for the warboats. The forts had there fire on us, also machine guns and rifles all day Sunday, and all through the night the firing kept up. It was a fearful row, battle ships behind, Turks big guns and machine guns in front and on the left of us, and our own guns as well. It was war in earnest ; but with all this noise, when I was relieved, I was able to sleep as soundly as if I were in bed. There were some fearful sights and I shall never forget them.
I don't mind the bullets so much, it is the shrapnel that is so terrible. The earth shakes under you when a shell bursts, and the effects are awful. Several of our men, where they burst close to them, were blown to pieces. There is a difference between shell and shrapnel. Shrapnel is a shell full of round bullets and when it burst the bullets go forward about 30 to 40 yards wide, and 200 to 300 yards forward, so you can see it is hard to dodge. I have had quiet a number of experiences, and can tell you I have been in about the thickest fire that has been experienced, and one can hardly believe he is alive the narrow shaves I have had. One experience out of a number was when I was lying wounded. I propped my head on my arm and a bullet went right through between my arm and head and hit a chap behind me in the chest. There are others waiting to write, so I must now leave you. Although we were at times in storms of bullets I wasn't at all afraid. I really think your boy would be a good soldier so don't worry about him. "
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Gallipoli Landing - Thomas Bridges.
This is an excellent graphic fictional account of the Gallipoli Landings from the book “On Land And Sea At The Dardanelles” by Thomas Charles Bridges.
'Hallo, what's up?' asked Dave Burney. 'We're off again.'
It was the night of Saturday the 24th of April. For the greater part of the day the 'Charnwood' had been lying off Cape Helles, which is the southernmost point of the Gallipoli Peninsula, while the people listened to the thunder of guns, and watched the shrapnel bursting in white puffs over the scrub-clad heights of the land.
Now, about midnight, she had got quietly under way, and was steaming steadily in a nor'-westerly direction.
'What's up?' Dave repeated in a puzzled tone. 'This ain't the way to Constantinople.'
'Don't you be too sure of that, sonny,' remarked Roy Horan, the big New Zealander who was standing with the two chums at the starboard rail. 'We ain't going home anyhow. I'll lay old man Hamilton's got something up his sleeve.'
'That's what I'm asking,' said Dave. 'What's the general up to? So far as I can see, there are only three other transports going our way. The rest are staying right here. What's your notion, Ken?'
'I don't know any more than you chaps,' Ken answered. 'But I'll give you my opinion for what it's worth. I think we're going to do a sort of flank attack. The main landing will probably be down here at the Point. Then when the Turks are busy, trying to hold 'em up, we shall be slipped in somewhere up the coast so as to create a sort of diversion.'
'What—and miss all the fun!' exclaimed Dave in a tone of intense disgust.
'You won't miss anything to signify,' Ken answered dryly. 'There are more than a hundred thousand Turks planted on the Peninsula, and you can bet anything you've got left from the wreck that there isn't one yard of beach that isn't trenched and guarded.'
'Where do ye think we'll land?' asked Horan eagerly.
Ken shrugged his shoulders. 'Haven't a notion,' he said. 'There are a lot of small bays up the west coast. Probably we shall nip into some little cove not very far up. There's a big ridge called Achi Baba which runs right across the Peninsula about four miles north. It'll be somewhere behind that, I expect. But mind you, this is all guess work. I don't know any more than you do.'
'You know the country anyhow,' said Horan. 'And that's worth a bit. See here, Carrington, if we can manage it, let's all three stick together. We ought to see some fun—what?'
Ken laughed. 'I'm sure I'm agreeable. But you see we're not in the same regiment. You're New Zealand, Dave and I are Australians. Still, I dare say we shall all be pretty much bunched when it comes to the fighting.'
Dave, who had been peering out into the night, turned to the others at this moment.
'Yes, there are only four transports altogether in our lot, and so far as I can make out three battleships and four destroyers taking care of us.'
'Now, you men, come below and turn in,' broke in a voice.
It was their sergeant, O'Brien, who had come up behind them.
'Oh, I say, sergeant, can't we stay and look at the pretty scenery?' said Roy Horan plaintively.
'No, ye can't,' was the gruff retort. 'Orders are that all the men are to turn in and take what rest they can. Faith, it's mighty little slape any of ye will get, once you're ashore. Go down now and ate your suppers and rest. I'm thinking ye'll be taking tay with the Turks before you're a dale older.'
'Are we going to land, sergeant?' asked Horan eagerly.
'Am I your general?' retorted O'Brien. 'Get along wid ye, and if ye want to know what it is we're going to do, faith ye'd best go and ask the colonel.'
Orders were orders. The three obediently went below, and, although at first he was too excited to sleep, Ken soon dropped off, and never moved until he felt a hand shaking him by the shoulder.
'Up wid ye, lad,' said O'Brien's voice in his ear, and like a shot Ken was out of his blanket and on his feet.
The screw had ceased to revolve. The ship lay quiet, rocking ever so lightly in the small swell. There was not a light to be seen anywhere, yet all was bustle, and the very air seemed charged with a curious thrill of excitement.
According to orders, Ken had lain down, fully dressed, with all his kit ready beside him. Within a very few moments he was equipped and ready. Then he and his companions were ordered down to the lower deck where the electrics were still burning, and there hot coffee and bread and butter were served out. Also each man received rations for twenty-four hours.
Officers passed among the men, scrutinising their equipment with keen eyes, and presently Colonel Conway himself came along.
He glanced round and his eyes kindled as they rested on the ranks of long, lean colonials.
'Men,' he said, and though he hardly raised his voice it carried to the very ends of the big flat. 'You know as well as I do what you have been training for during the past six months. The day you have been waiting for has come. See that you make the most of it. Speed and silence—these are the qualities required of you to-night. The boats are waiting.'
Ken repressed with difficulty a violent desire to cheer. Next moment came a low-voiced order from his company commander, and he found himself one of a long line hurrying up the companion to the deck.
There was no moon, but the stars were bright, and it was not too dark to see the cliffs that seemed to rise abruptly out of the sea, about half a mile away to the eastward. They, like the ships, were dark and silent.
Without one unnecessary word, the troops dropped quietly down the ladder into the waiting boats, and presently were being pulled rapidly inshore. Boat after boat came stealing out of the gloom, all loaded down to the gunwales with fighting men, yet all moving with a silence that was positively uncanny. The oars were carefully muffled and no one spoke aloud.
Dave sat next to Ken, but Horan was not with them. He had been ordered into another boat with his company.
Dave put his mouth close to Ken's ear.
'Don't believe there's a Turk in the country,' he muttered. 'Looks to me as peaceful as a picnic'
'Looks are precious deceitful sometimes,' Ken whispered back. 'For all you or I know, that brush is stiff with the enemy.'
'Then why don't they fire at us?'
'A fat lot of good that would be in this light. No, Dave, they know their job as well as we do, and perhaps better. I shall be pleasantly surprised if we're allowed to land without opposition.'
But the boat neared the shore, and still there was no sign from those silent cliffs and thickets. As soon as her bow grated on the shingle, the men were out of her, wading knee deep to the shore. They were as eager as terriers. The only anxiety of their officers was lest they should get out of hand and start before the order to advance was given.
Boat after boat glided up, and men by scores formed up at high tide mark.
'Told you we'd fooled 'em,' whispered Dave. 'This is going to be one o' your bloodless victories.'
The words were hardly out of his mouth before there was a loud hissing sound, and right out of the centre of the precipitous slope facing them something like a gigantic rocket shot high into the air and burst into a brilliant white flame.
It lit up the whole beach like day, throwing up the long lines of troops in brilliant relief. Next instant there was a crash of musketry, and rifles spat fire and lead from a long semicircle behind the spot from which the star shell had risen.
The man next but one to Ken threw up his arms and dropped without a sound. A score of others fell.
'Gee, but you were right, Ken!' muttered Dave. 'Fix bayonets!' Colonel Conway's voice rang like a trumpet above the crackle of the firing.
Instantly came the clang of steel as the bayonets slipped into their sockets. Men were falling fast, but the rest stood straining forward like greyhounds on a leash.
'Not a shot, mind you. Give 'em the steel. At the double. Advance!'
Almost before the words were out of his mouth the whole line rushed forward. A second star shell hissed skywards, but before it broke the men had reached the base of the cliff. Its white glare showed the long-legged athletes from the sheep ranges and cattle runs sprinting up the steep hill-side.
The enemy rifles rattled in one long, terrible roll. Men dropped by dozens and scores. Some fell where they lay, others rolled helplessly back down the steep slope to the beach. But those left never paused or hesitated. They scrambled desperately upwards through the pelting storm of lead, guided by the flashes from the muzzles of the Turkish rifles.
Ken was conscious of nothing but a fierce desire to get to close quarters, and he and Dave Burney went up side by side at the very top of their speed.
Before they knew it, a dark hollow loomed before them. A rifle snapped almost in Ken's face—so close that he felt the scorch of the powder. Without an instant's hesitation he drove his bayonet at a dark figure beneath him, at the same time springing down into the trench. The whole weight of his body was behind his thrust, and the Turk, spitted like a fowl, fell dead beneath him.
With an effort he dragged the blade loose. Only just in time, for a burly man in a fez was swinging at his head with a rifle butt. Ken ducked under his arm, turned smartly and bayoneted him in the side.
The whole trench was full of struggling men. The Turks fought well, but good men as they are, they were no match for the long, lean six footers who were upon them. Inside three minutes it was all over. Most of the Turks were dead, the few survivors were prisoners.
'Lively while it lasted,' panted Dave's voice at Ken's elbow.
'You, Dave. Are you all right?'
'Lost my hat and my wind. Nothing else missing so far as I know. Are you chipped?'
'Not a touch. But keep your head down. This is only the first act. There's another trench above this one.'
During the struggle in the trench the firing had ceased entirely, but now that it was over a pestilence of bullets began to pour again from higher up the slope, and Ken's warning was useful—to say the least of it.
'What comes next?' asked Dave, as the two crouched together against the rubbly wall of the trench.
'Get our second wind and tackle the next trench,' said Ken briefly.
His prophecy was correct. A couple of minutes later the order was passed down to advance again.
In grim silence the men sprang out of their shelter and dashed forward. There were no more star shells, but from up above began the ugly knocking of a quick-firer. It sounded like a giant running a stick along an endless row of palings, and the bullets squirted like water from a hose through the thinning ranks of the Colonials.
It was worse than the first charge, for not only was the slope steeper, but the face of the hill was covered with low, tough scrub, the tangled roots of which caught the men's feet as they ran, and brought many down. The result was that the line was no longer level. Some got far ahead of the others.
Among the leaders were Ken and Dave, who struggled along, side by side, still untouched amid the pelting storm of lead.
But although the ranks were sadly thinned, the attackers were not to be denied. In a living torrent, they poured into the second trench.
There followed a grim five minutes. The Turks who were in considerable force, made a strong effort to hold their ground, shortening their bayonets and stabbing upwards at the attackers. It was useless. The Australians and New Zealanders, savage at the loss of so many of their comrades, fought like furies. Ken had a glimpse of a giant next him, literally pitchforking a Turk out of the trench, lifting him like a gaffed salmon on the end of his bayonet.
It was soon over, but this time there were very few prisoners. Almost every man in the trench, with the exception of about a dozen who had bolted at the first onset, was killed.
'That's settled it,' said Dave gleefully, as he plunged his bayonet into the earth to clean it from the ugly stains which darkened the steel.
'That's begun it,' corrected Ken.
'What do you mean?'
'That we've got to hold what we've won. You don't suppose the Turks are going to leave us in peaceful possession, do you?'
'I—I thought we'd finished this little lot,' said Dave rather ruefully.
'My dear chap, I've told you already that Enver Bey has at least a hundred thousand men on the Peninsula. By this time the news of our landing has been telephoned all over the shop, and reinforcements are coming up full tilt. There'll be a couple of battalions or more on the top of the cliff in an hour or two's time.'
'Then why don't we shove along and take up our position on the top?'
'We're not strong enough yet. We must wait for reinforcements. If I'm not mistaken the next orders will be to dig ourselves in.'
'But we are dug in. We hold the trench.'
'Fat lot of use that is in its present condition. All the earthworks are on the seaward side. We have little or no protection on the land side.
'Ah, I thought so,' he continued, as the voice of Sergeant O'Brien made itself heard.
'Dig, lads! dig! Make yourselves some head cover. They'll be turning guns on us an' blowing blazes out of us as soon as the day dawns.'
Blown and weary as they were, the men set to work at once with their entrenching spades. It was in Egypt they had learnt the art of trench-making, but they found this rocky clay very different stuff to shift from desert sand.
The order came none too soon, for in a very few minutes snipers got to work again. There were scores of them. Every little patch of scrub held its sharpshooter, and although the darkness was still against accurate shooting there were many casualties.
'They're enfilading us,' said Ken. 'They've got men posted up on the cliff to the left who can fire right down this trench. It's going to be awkward when daylight comes.'
It was awkward enough already. The Red Cross men were kept busy, staggering away downhill with stretchers laden with the wounded. There was no possibility of returning the enemy's fire, and in the darkness the ships could not help. All the Colonials could do was to crouch as low as possible, flattening themselves against the landward wall of the trench.
'Those snipers are the very deuce, sergeant.'
The voice was that of Colonel Conway, who was making his way down the trench, to see how his men were faring.
'They are that, sorr,' replied O'Brien. ''Tis them over on the bluff to the left as is doing the damage. I'm thinking they've got the ranges beforehand.
As he spoke a man went down within five yards of where he stood. He was shot clean through the head.
'It's Standish,' said Ken. And then, on the spur of the moment,—
'Sergeant, couldn't some of us go and clear them out?'
There was a moment's pause broken only by the intermittent crackle of firing from above.
'Who was that spoke?' demanded Colonel Conway.
'I, sir,' answered Ken, saluting. 'Carrington.'
'Aren't you the man who knows this country?'
'I have been in the Peninsula before, sir.'
'Hm, and do you think you could find those snipers?'
'I do, sir.' Ken spoke very quietly, but inwardly he was trembling with eagerness. Was it possible that his impulsive remark was going to be taken up in earnest?
The colonel spoke in a whisper to O'Brien, and the sergeant answered. Then he turned to Ken.
'You may pick three men and try it. You'll have to stalk them, of course. If you can't reach them come back. No one will think any the worse of you if you fail.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Ken, his heart almost bursting with gratitude. His chance had come, and he meant to make the most of it.
'Hallo, what's up?' asked Dave Burney. 'We're off again.'
It was the night of Saturday the 24th of April. For the greater part of the day the 'Charnwood' had been lying off Cape Helles, which is the southernmost point of the Gallipoli Peninsula, while the people listened to the thunder of guns, and watched the shrapnel bursting in white puffs over the scrub-clad heights of the land.
Now, about midnight, she had got quietly under way, and was steaming steadily in a nor'-westerly direction.
'What's up?' Dave repeated in a puzzled tone. 'This ain't the way to Constantinople.'
'Don't you be too sure of that, sonny,' remarked Roy Horan, the big New Zealander who was standing with the two chums at the starboard rail. 'We ain't going home anyhow. I'll lay old man Hamilton's got something up his sleeve.'
'That's what I'm asking,' said Dave. 'What's the general up to? So far as I can see, there are only three other transports going our way. The rest are staying right here. What's your notion, Ken?'
'I don't know any more than you chaps,' Ken answered. 'But I'll give you my opinion for what it's worth. I think we're going to do a sort of flank attack. The main landing will probably be down here at the Point. Then when the Turks are busy, trying to hold 'em up, we shall be slipped in somewhere up the coast so as to create a sort of diversion.'
'What—and miss all the fun!' exclaimed Dave in a tone of intense disgust.
'You won't miss anything to signify,' Ken answered dryly. 'There are more than a hundred thousand Turks planted on the Peninsula, and you can bet anything you've got left from the wreck that there isn't one yard of beach that isn't trenched and guarded.'
'Where do ye think we'll land?' asked Horan eagerly.
Ken shrugged his shoulders. 'Haven't a notion,' he said. 'There are a lot of small bays up the west coast. Probably we shall nip into some little cove not very far up. There's a big ridge called Achi Baba which runs right across the Peninsula about four miles north. It'll be somewhere behind that, I expect. But mind you, this is all guess work. I don't know any more than you do.'
'You know the country anyhow,' said Horan. 'And that's worth a bit. See here, Carrington, if we can manage it, let's all three stick together. We ought to see some fun—what?'
Ken laughed. 'I'm sure I'm agreeable. But you see we're not in the same regiment. You're New Zealand, Dave and I are Australians. Still, I dare say we shall all be pretty much bunched when it comes to the fighting.'
Dave, who had been peering out into the night, turned to the others at this moment.
'Yes, there are only four transports altogether in our lot, and so far as I can make out three battleships and four destroyers taking care of us.'
'Now, you men, come below and turn in,' broke in a voice.
It was their sergeant, O'Brien, who had come up behind them.
'Oh, I say, sergeant, can't we stay and look at the pretty scenery?' said Roy Horan plaintively.
'No, ye can't,' was the gruff retort. 'Orders are that all the men are to turn in and take what rest they can. Faith, it's mighty little slape any of ye will get, once you're ashore. Go down now and ate your suppers and rest. I'm thinking ye'll be taking tay with the Turks before you're a dale older.'
'Are we going to land, sergeant?' asked Horan eagerly.
'Am I your general?' retorted O'Brien. 'Get along wid ye, and if ye want to know what it is we're going to do, faith ye'd best go and ask the colonel.'
Orders were orders. The three obediently went below, and, although at first he was too excited to sleep, Ken soon dropped off, and never moved until he felt a hand shaking him by the shoulder.
'Up wid ye, lad,' said O'Brien's voice in his ear, and like a shot Ken was out of his blanket and on his feet.
The screw had ceased to revolve. The ship lay quiet, rocking ever so lightly in the small swell. There was not a light to be seen anywhere, yet all was bustle, and the very air seemed charged with a curious thrill of excitement.
According to orders, Ken had lain down, fully dressed, with all his kit ready beside him. Within a very few moments he was equipped and ready. Then he and his companions were ordered down to the lower deck where the electrics were still burning, and there hot coffee and bread and butter were served out. Also each man received rations for twenty-four hours.
Officers passed among the men, scrutinising their equipment with keen eyes, and presently Colonel Conway himself came along.
He glanced round and his eyes kindled as they rested on the ranks of long, lean colonials.
'Men,' he said, and though he hardly raised his voice it carried to the very ends of the big flat. 'You know as well as I do what you have been training for during the past six months. The day you have been waiting for has come. See that you make the most of it. Speed and silence—these are the qualities required of you to-night. The boats are waiting.'
Ken repressed with difficulty a violent desire to cheer. Next moment came a low-voiced order from his company commander, and he found himself one of a long line hurrying up the companion to the deck.
There was no moon, but the stars were bright, and it was not too dark to see the cliffs that seemed to rise abruptly out of the sea, about half a mile away to the eastward. They, like the ships, were dark and silent.
Without one unnecessary word, the troops dropped quietly down the ladder into the waiting boats, and presently were being pulled rapidly inshore. Boat after boat came stealing out of the gloom, all loaded down to the gunwales with fighting men, yet all moving with a silence that was positively uncanny. The oars were carefully muffled and no one spoke aloud.
Dave sat next to Ken, but Horan was not with them. He had been ordered into another boat with his company.
Dave put his mouth close to Ken's ear.
'Don't believe there's a Turk in the country,' he muttered. 'Looks to me as peaceful as a picnic'
'Looks are precious deceitful sometimes,' Ken whispered back. 'For all you or I know, that brush is stiff with the enemy.'
'Then why don't they fire at us?'
'A fat lot of good that would be in this light. No, Dave, they know their job as well as we do, and perhaps better. I shall be pleasantly surprised if we're allowed to land without opposition.'
But the boat neared the shore, and still there was no sign from those silent cliffs and thickets. As soon as her bow grated on the shingle, the men were out of her, wading knee deep to the shore. They were as eager as terriers. The only anxiety of their officers was lest they should get out of hand and start before the order to advance was given.
Boat after boat glided up, and men by scores formed up at high tide mark.
'Told you we'd fooled 'em,' whispered Dave. 'This is going to be one o' your bloodless victories.'
The words were hardly out of his mouth before there was a loud hissing sound, and right out of the centre of the precipitous slope facing them something like a gigantic rocket shot high into the air and burst into a brilliant white flame.
It lit up the whole beach like day, throwing up the long lines of troops in brilliant relief. Next instant there was a crash of musketry, and rifles spat fire and lead from a long semicircle behind the spot from which the star shell had risen.
The man next but one to Ken threw up his arms and dropped without a sound. A score of others fell.
'Gee, but you were right, Ken!' muttered Dave. 'Fix bayonets!' Colonel Conway's voice rang like a trumpet above the crackle of the firing.
Instantly came the clang of steel as the bayonets slipped into their sockets. Men were falling fast, but the rest stood straining forward like greyhounds on a leash.
'Not a shot, mind you. Give 'em the steel. At the double. Advance!'
Almost before the words were out of his mouth the whole line rushed forward. A second star shell hissed skywards, but before it broke the men had reached the base of the cliff. Its white glare showed the long-legged athletes from the sheep ranges and cattle runs sprinting up the steep hill-side.
The enemy rifles rattled in one long, terrible roll. Men dropped by dozens and scores. Some fell where they lay, others rolled helplessly back down the steep slope to the beach. But those left never paused or hesitated. They scrambled desperately upwards through the pelting storm of lead, guided by the flashes from the muzzles of the Turkish rifles.
Ken was conscious of nothing but a fierce desire to get to close quarters, and he and Dave Burney went up side by side at the very top of their speed.
Before they knew it, a dark hollow loomed before them. A rifle snapped almost in Ken's face—so close that he felt the scorch of the powder. Without an instant's hesitation he drove his bayonet at a dark figure beneath him, at the same time springing down into the trench. The whole weight of his body was behind his thrust, and the Turk, spitted like a fowl, fell dead beneath him.
With an effort he dragged the blade loose. Only just in time, for a burly man in a fez was swinging at his head with a rifle butt. Ken ducked under his arm, turned smartly and bayoneted him in the side.
The whole trench was full of struggling men. The Turks fought well, but good men as they are, they were no match for the long, lean six footers who were upon them. Inside three minutes it was all over. Most of the Turks were dead, the few survivors were prisoners.
'Lively while it lasted,' panted Dave's voice at Ken's elbow.
'You, Dave. Are you all right?'
'Lost my hat and my wind. Nothing else missing so far as I know. Are you chipped?'
'Not a touch. But keep your head down. This is only the first act. There's another trench above this one.'
During the struggle in the trench the firing had ceased entirely, but now that it was over a pestilence of bullets began to pour again from higher up the slope, and Ken's warning was useful—to say the least of it.
'What comes next?' asked Dave, as the two crouched together against the rubbly wall of the trench.
'Get our second wind and tackle the next trench,' said Ken briefly.
His prophecy was correct. A couple of minutes later the order was passed down to advance again.
In grim silence the men sprang out of their shelter and dashed forward. There were no more star shells, but from up above began the ugly knocking of a quick-firer. It sounded like a giant running a stick along an endless row of palings, and the bullets squirted like water from a hose through the thinning ranks of the Colonials.
It was worse than the first charge, for not only was the slope steeper, but the face of the hill was covered with low, tough scrub, the tangled roots of which caught the men's feet as they ran, and brought many down. The result was that the line was no longer level. Some got far ahead of the others.
Among the leaders were Ken and Dave, who struggled along, side by side, still untouched amid the pelting storm of lead.
But although the ranks were sadly thinned, the attackers were not to be denied. In a living torrent, they poured into the second trench.
There followed a grim five minutes. The Turks who were in considerable force, made a strong effort to hold their ground, shortening their bayonets and stabbing upwards at the attackers. It was useless. The Australians and New Zealanders, savage at the loss of so many of their comrades, fought like furies. Ken had a glimpse of a giant next him, literally pitchforking a Turk out of the trench, lifting him like a gaffed salmon on the end of his bayonet.
It was soon over, but this time there were very few prisoners. Almost every man in the trench, with the exception of about a dozen who had bolted at the first onset, was killed.
'That's settled it,' said Dave gleefully, as he plunged his bayonet into the earth to clean it from the ugly stains which darkened the steel.
'That's begun it,' corrected Ken.
'What do you mean?'
'That we've got to hold what we've won. You don't suppose the Turks are going to leave us in peaceful possession, do you?'
'I—I thought we'd finished this little lot,' said Dave rather ruefully.
'My dear chap, I've told you already that Enver Bey has at least a hundred thousand men on the Peninsula. By this time the news of our landing has been telephoned all over the shop, and reinforcements are coming up full tilt. There'll be a couple of battalions or more on the top of the cliff in an hour or two's time.'
'Then why don't we shove along and take up our position on the top?'
'We're not strong enough yet. We must wait for reinforcements. If I'm not mistaken the next orders will be to dig ourselves in.'
'But we are dug in. We hold the trench.'
'Fat lot of use that is in its present condition. All the earthworks are on the seaward side. We have little or no protection on the land side.
'Ah, I thought so,' he continued, as the voice of Sergeant O'Brien made itself heard.
'Dig, lads! dig! Make yourselves some head cover. They'll be turning guns on us an' blowing blazes out of us as soon as the day dawns.'
Blown and weary as they were, the men set to work at once with their entrenching spades. It was in Egypt they had learnt the art of trench-making, but they found this rocky clay very different stuff to shift from desert sand.
The order came none too soon, for in a very few minutes snipers got to work again. There were scores of them. Every little patch of scrub held its sharpshooter, and although the darkness was still against accurate shooting there were many casualties.
'They're enfilading us,' said Ken. 'They've got men posted up on the cliff to the left who can fire right down this trench. It's going to be awkward when daylight comes.'
It was awkward enough already. The Red Cross men were kept busy, staggering away downhill with stretchers laden with the wounded. There was no possibility of returning the enemy's fire, and in the darkness the ships could not help. All the Colonials could do was to crouch as low as possible, flattening themselves against the landward wall of the trench.
'Those snipers are the very deuce, sergeant.'
The voice was that of Colonel Conway, who was making his way down the trench, to see how his men were faring.
'They are that, sorr,' replied O'Brien. ''Tis them over on the bluff to the left as is doing the damage. I'm thinking they've got the ranges beforehand.
As he spoke a man went down within five yards of where he stood. He was shot clean through the head.
'It's Standish,' said Ken. And then, on the spur of the moment,—
'Sergeant, couldn't some of us go and clear them out?'
There was a moment's pause broken only by the intermittent crackle of firing from above.
'Who was that spoke?' demanded Colonel Conway.
'I, sir,' answered Ken, saluting. 'Carrington.'
'Aren't you the man who knows this country?'
'I have been in the Peninsula before, sir.'
'Hm, and do you think you could find those snipers?'
'I do, sir.' Ken spoke very quietly, but inwardly he was trembling with eagerness. Was it possible that his impulsive remark was going to be taken up in earnest?
The colonel spoke in a whisper to O'Brien, and the sergeant answered. Then he turned to Ken.
'You may pick three men and try it. You'll have to stalk them, of course. If you can't reach them come back. No one will think any the worse of you if you fail.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Ken, his heart almost bursting with gratitude. His chance had come, and he meant to make the most of it.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Gallipoli Landing - 4th Field Ambulance, AIF.
This graphic account of the Gallipoli landings comes from the book Five Months at Anzac - A Narrative of Personal Experiences of the Officer Commanding the 4th Field Ambulance, Australian Imperial Force by Joseph Lievesley Beeston.
THE ANZAC LANDING
The horse-boats having been got overboard, we continued our voyage towards what is now know as Anzac. Troops—Australians and New Zealanders—were being taken ashore in barges. Warships were firing apparently as fast as they could load, the Turks replying with equal cordiality. In fact, as Captain Dawson remarked to me, it was quite the most "willing" Sunday he had ever seen.
Our troops were ascending the hills through a dwarf scrub, just low enough to let us see the men's heads, though sometimes we could only locate them by the glint of the bayonets in the sunshine. Everywhere they were pushing on in extended order, but many falling. The Turks appeared to have the range pretty accurately. About mid-day our men seemed to be held up, the Turkish shrapnel appearing to be too much for them. It was now that there occurred what I think one of the finest incidents of the campaign. This was the landing of the Australian Artillery. They got two of their guns ashore, and over very rough country dragged them up the hills with what looked like a hundred men to each. Up they went, through a wheat-field, covered and plastered with shrapnel, but with never a stop until the crest of the hill on the right was reached. Very little time was wasted in getting into action, and from this time it became evident that we were there to stay.
The practice of the naval guns was simply perfect. They lodged shell after shell just in front of the foremost rank of our men; in response to a message asking them to clear one of the gullies, one ship placed shell after shell up that gully, each about a hundred yards apart, and in as straight a line as if they were ploughing the ground for Johnny Turk, instead of making the place too hot to hold him.
The Turks now began to try for this warship, and in their endeavours almost succeeded in getting the vessel we were on, as a shell burst right overhead. The wounded now began to come back, and the one hospital ship there was filled in a very short time. Every available transport was then utilised for the reception of casualties, and as each was filled she steamed off to the base at Alexandria. As night came on we appeared to have a good hold of the place, and orders came for our bearer division to land. They took with them three days' "iron" rations, which consisted of a tin of bully beef, a bag of small biscuits, and some tea and sugar, dixies, a tent, medical comforts, and (for firewood) all the empty cases we could scrape up in the ship. Each squad had a set of splints, and every man carried a tourniquet and two roller bandages in his pouch. Orders were issued that the men were to make the contents of their water-bottles last three days, as no water was available on shore.
The following evening the remainder of the Ambulance, less the transport, was ordered ashore. We embarked in a trawler, and steamed towards the shore in the growing dusk as far as the depth of water would allow. The night was bitterly cold, it was raining, and all felt this was real soldiering. None of us could understand what occasioned the noise we heard at times, of something hitting the iron deck houses behind us; at last one of the men exclaimed: "Those are bullets, sir," so that we were having our baptism of fire. It was marvellous that no one was hit, for they were fairly frequent, and we all stood closely packed. Finally the skipper of the trawler, Captain Hubbard, told me he did not think we could be taken off that night, and therefore intended to drop anchor. He invited Major Meikle and myself to the cabin, where the cook served out hot tea to all hands. I have drunk a considerable number of cups of tea in my time, but that mug was very, very nice. The night was spent dozing where we stood, Paddy being very disturbed with the noise of the guns.
At daylight a barge was towed out and, after placing all our equipment on board, we started for the beach. As soon as the barge grounded, we jumped out into the water (which was about waist deep) and got to dry land. Colonel Manders, the A.D.M.S. of our Division, was there, and directed us up a gully where we were to stay in reserve for the time being, meantime to take lightly-wounded cases. One tent was pitched and dug-outs made for both men and patients, the Turks supplying shrapnel pretty freely. Our position happened to be in rear of a mountain battery, whose guns the Turks appeared very anxious to silence, and any shells the battery did not want came over to us. As soon as we were settled down I had time to look round. Down on the beach the 1st Casualty Clearing Station (under Lieutenant-Colonel Giblin) and the Ambulance of the Royal Marine Light Infantry were at work. There were scores of casualties awaiting treatment, some of them horribly knocked about. It was my first experience of such a number of cases. In civil practice, if an accident took place in which three or four men were injured, the occurrence would be deemed out of the ordinary: but here there were almost as many hundreds, and all the flower of Australia. It made one feel really that, in the words of General Sherman, "War is hell," and it seemed damnable that it should be in the power of one man, even if be he the German Emperor, to decree that all these men should be mutilated or killed. The great majority were just coming into manhood with all their life before them. The stoicism and fortitude with which they bore their pain was truly remarkable. Every one of them was cheery and optimistic; there was not a murmur; the only requests were for a cigarette or a drink of water. One felt very proud of these Australians, each waiting his turn to be dressed without complaining. It really quite unnerved me for a time. However, it was no time to allow the sentimental side of one's nature to come uppermost.
I watched the pinnaces towing the barges in. Each pinnace belonged to a warship and was in charge of a midshipman—dubbed by his shipmates a "snotty." This name originates from the days of Trafalgar. The little chaps appear to have suffered from chronic colds in the head, with the usual accompaniment of a copious flow from the nasal organs. Before addressing an officer the boys would clean their faces by drawing the sleeve of their jacket across the nose; and, I understand that this practice so incensed Lord Nelson that he ordered three brass buttons to be sewn on the wristbands of the boys' jackets. However, this is by the way. These boys, of all ages from 14 to 16, were steering their pinnaces with supreme indifference to the shrapnel falling about, disdaining any cover and as cool as if there was no such thing as war. I spoke to one, remarking that they were having a great time. He was a bright, chubby, sunny-faced little chap, and with a smile said: "Isn't it beautiful, sir? When we started, there were sixteen of us, and now there are only six!" This is the class of man they make officers out of in Britain's navy, and while this is so there need be no fear of the result of any encounter with the Germans.
Another boy, bringing a barge full of men ashore, directed them to lie down and take all the cover they could, he meanwhile steering the pinnace and standing quite unconcernedly with one foot on the boat's rail.
THE ANZAC LANDING
The horse-boats having been got overboard, we continued our voyage towards what is now know as Anzac. Troops—Australians and New Zealanders—were being taken ashore in barges. Warships were firing apparently as fast as they could load, the Turks replying with equal cordiality. In fact, as Captain Dawson remarked to me, it was quite the most "willing" Sunday he had ever seen.
Our troops were ascending the hills through a dwarf scrub, just low enough to let us see the men's heads, though sometimes we could only locate them by the glint of the bayonets in the sunshine. Everywhere they were pushing on in extended order, but many falling. The Turks appeared to have the range pretty accurately. About mid-day our men seemed to be held up, the Turkish shrapnel appearing to be too much for them. It was now that there occurred what I think one of the finest incidents of the campaign. This was the landing of the Australian Artillery. They got two of their guns ashore, and over very rough country dragged them up the hills with what looked like a hundred men to each. Up they went, through a wheat-field, covered and plastered with shrapnel, but with never a stop until the crest of the hill on the right was reached. Very little time was wasted in getting into action, and from this time it became evident that we were there to stay.
The practice of the naval guns was simply perfect. They lodged shell after shell just in front of the foremost rank of our men; in response to a message asking them to clear one of the gullies, one ship placed shell after shell up that gully, each about a hundred yards apart, and in as straight a line as if they were ploughing the ground for Johnny Turk, instead of making the place too hot to hold him.
The Turks now began to try for this warship, and in their endeavours almost succeeded in getting the vessel we were on, as a shell burst right overhead. The wounded now began to come back, and the one hospital ship there was filled in a very short time. Every available transport was then utilised for the reception of casualties, and as each was filled she steamed off to the base at Alexandria. As night came on we appeared to have a good hold of the place, and orders came for our bearer division to land. They took with them three days' "iron" rations, which consisted of a tin of bully beef, a bag of small biscuits, and some tea and sugar, dixies, a tent, medical comforts, and (for firewood) all the empty cases we could scrape up in the ship. Each squad had a set of splints, and every man carried a tourniquet and two roller bandages in his pouch. Orders were issued that the men were to make the contents of their water-bottles last three days, as no water was available on shore.
The following evening the remainder of the Ambulance, less the transport, was ordered ashore. We embarked in a trawler, and steamed towards the shore in the growing dusk as far as the depth of water would allow. The night was bitterly cold, it was raining, and all felt this was real soldiering. None of us could understand what occasioned the noise we heard at times, of something hitting the iron deck houses behind us; at last one of the men exclaimed: "Those are bullets, sir," so that we were having our baptism of fire. It was marvellous that no one was hit, for they were fairly frequent, and we all stood closely packed. Finally the skipper of the trawler, Captain Hubbard, told me he did not think we could be taken off that night, and therefore intended to drop anchor. He invited Major Meikle and myself to the cabin, where the cook served out hot tea to all hands. I have drunk a considerable number of cups of tea in my time, but that mug was very, very nice. The night was spent dozing where we stood, Paddy being very disturbed with the noise of the guns.
At daylight a barge was towed out and, after placing all our equipment on board, we started for the beach. As soon as the barge grounded, we jumped out into the water (which was about waist deep) and got to dry land. Colonel Manders, the A.D.M.S. of our Division, was there, and directed us up a gully where we were to stay in reserve for the time being, meantime to take lightly-wounded cases. One tent was pitched and dug-outs made for both men and patients, the Turks supplying shrapnel pretty freely. Our position happened to be in rear of a mountain battery, whose guns the Turks appeared very anxious to silence, and any shells the battery did not want came over to us. As soon as we were settled down I had time to look round. Down on the beach the 1st Casualty Clearing Station (under Lieutenant-Colonel Giblin) and the Ambulance of the Royal Marine Light Infantry were at work. There were scores of casualties awaiting treatment, some of them horribly knocked about. It was my first experience of such a number of cases. In civil practice, if an accident took place in which three or four men were injured, the occurrence would be deemed out of the ordinary: but here there were almost as many hundreds, and all the flower of Australia. It made one feel really that, in the words of General Sherman, "War is hell," and it seemed damnable that it should be in the power of one man, even if be he the German Emperor, to decree that all these men should be mutilated or killed. The great majority were just coming into manhood with all their life before them. The stoicism and fortitude with which they bore their pain was truly remarkable. Every one of them was cheery and optimistic; there was not a murmur; the only requests were for a cigarette or a drink of water. One felt very proud of these Australians, each waiting his turn to be dressed without complaining. It really quite unnerved me for a time. However, it was no time to allow the sentimental side of one's nature to come uppermost.
I watched the pinnaces towing the barges in. Each pinnace belonged to a warship and was in charge of a midshipman—dubbed by his shipmates a "snotty." This name originates from the days of Trafalgar. The little chaps appear to have suffered from chronic colds in the head, with the usual accompaniment of a copious flow from the nasal organs. Before addressing an officer the boys would clean their faces by drawing the sleeve of their jacket across the nose; and, I understand that this practice so incensed Lord Nelson that he ordered three brass buttons to be sewn on the wristbands of the boys' jackets. However, this is by the way. These boys, of all ages from 14 to 16, were steering their pinnaces with supreme indifference to the shrapnel falling about, disdaining any cover and as cool as if there was no such thing as war. I spoke to one, remarking that they were having a great time. He was a bright, chubby, sunny-faced little chap, and with a smile said: "Isn't it beautiful, sir? When we started, there were sixteen of us, and now there are only six!" This is the class of man they make officers out of in Britain's navy, and while this is so there need be no fear of the result of any encounter with the Germans.
Another boy, bringing a barge full of men ashore, directed them to lie down and take all the cover they could, he meanwhile steering the pinnace and standing quite unconcernedly with one foot on the boat's rail.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Gallipoli Landings - 8th Battalion, AIF.
The 25th April 1915 (94 years ago) was the fateful day of Australia’s entry into the "war", the Gallipoli landings were a baptism of horror and terror.
Private John Gibson Pitt, orginally from Manchester, was with the 8th Battalion on that fateful day and in his personal diary is an excellent record of the events.
"Sunday April 18th
Transports arriving daily. 8am. The oil boat (“Lunik 1915”) came alongside and pumped water into us as hard as she could go. 10am. 8th Battalion band went over to H.M.S. “Sicilia” and gave them a few tunes. 11am. Officers and N.C.O's paraded and were told that we are to go ashore at Gallipoli in 3 destroyers and that we would be under fire before we landed. D Company No 1 destroyer. 2.30pm. Paraded in full order and took up our positions as will have to do when we land. The band went aboard H.M.S “Agamemnon” and were treated royally. Blue jackets and petty officers from aboard her borrowed their boats and came aboard us. Had a yarn with the Chief Engine Room Artificer.
Monday April 19th
Men swimming around the ship. Mail aboard after dinner. Rumours of setting off tomorrow. About 150 reinforcements from 14th battalion arrived 7.45pm.
Tuesday April 20th
Very fresh and a bit choppy this morning. One of a rowing party to row the Officers Patrol ashore and back. 1.45pm parade. Descending into boat. 2 pm. One of a party to row over to Hospital ship and back, rough, a hard tussle. 4.15pm Rowed ashore for party, arrived back about 6pm, very hard pulling , nearly an hour coming back, 2 men to an oar, 6 oarsmen. Artillerymen onboard fixing fuses to shrapnel shells.
Wednesday April 21st
Heavy rain through he night. Blowing hard. Rained till 3pm and then calmed down.
Thursday April 22nd
A lovely fresh breeze and blowing. Hospital ship, 2 transports and a fleet of trawlers arrived in this morning, also torpedo boat destroyer. On guard today, 3rd relief. About 20 A.M.C. Men and officers arrived aboard today. Mail arrived today been hung up for days. Tucker these days is bully beef and biscuits, porridge for breakfast. Do not expect to be here long.
Friday April 23rd
Guard 4am-8am, not a baddie yarmed to the cork?. 10.30am practised descending into boats. Naval heat aboard. Hydroplane flying around 9pm. Something doing. Troopship and warships moving outside torpedo nets. Band palying for last time, tonight packing instruments.
Saturday April 24th
5.30 am. Awoke to find the ship under way. We were just going past the lighthouse at the entrance and were followed by the “Mashobra” and “Mumewoska” (Divisional Flagship). Anchored still off the land about 9.30pm. Expect to land early in the morning. Parade 10am. Final inspection of everything. 3am Parade. Practised taking our positions for disembarkation. Captain Coulter read out necessary information and divisional standing orders. D company 2 positions to take tomorrow and next day.
Sunday April 25th
Reveille 3 am. 7 transports here now and the number eventually increased considerably. Shrapnel and rifle fire all around the boats. 7.15 am. Embarked in destroyer, one boatload of our battalion went before we did. Transferred wounded and dead from destroyer to “Clan Mc”. H.M.S. “Triumph”, “Bacchante” etc bombarding fort and gun positions as hard as they can. Boats were lashed to the side of the destroyer so that their bottoms just skimmed the water and the men were able to get in them while she was going. When she had got as close to the shore as the depth of the water would allow her, she slowed down and the boats were released from her side, when Pi----? Towed us in as far as they could and we rowed the rest, having to jump in the water, knee deep to land. The 3rd brigade were covering party and landed first. We formed up in platoons on the beach and forced our way through the thick and prickly scrub. There being another line in front of us, who had driven the Turks before them, we did not meet with a great deal of opposition, although we got the benefit of a good many bullets fired at the front line, and some shrapnel. When we got to the first ridge in land, we were ordered by Lieut Colonel Gartside to strengthen the line already established there and dig in as he considered that all our fellows out in front would have to retire there before night, as they had met with considerable forces of the enemy and were losing heavily. Tom Keddie and I dug in next to one another and then turned our attention on a very troublesome sniper on our left front, he moved about and we could not get a good shot at him as he was so hard to see in the thick scrub. He eventually got Tom K in the calf of the leg, the bullet must have passed over me , I was dug in deeper than he was. Bandaged him up and took him to the rear, he gave me his automatic. Our fellows in front were compelled to retire during the afternoon after losing very heavily, especially in officers. Entrenched as hard as we could at night, firing all night. Shrapnel did us the most damage, and we had no artillery on land, and the warships were of course at a disadvantage, although they did splendid work. The Turks made repeated attacks during the night but were always repulsed.
Monday April 26th
Artillery expected ashore today, warships still bombarding. Barney Allan shot through mouth. Wounded men everywhere, SB’s and doctors scarce. 12am. Casualties estimated at 4,000, 75% 8th battalion officers out of action, 60% dead, very sad. A.M.C out all night and did splendid work. Rejoined company on battalions left flank, made dug outs till 4pm, then went in trenches to help cover advance to be made on our left. They advanced and were repulsed time after time, shrapnel fire awful. Slight advance at last. The warships helped us considerably. Splendid shooting today. In trenches all night, several minor attacks. No sleep.
Tuesday April 27th
Our artillery will be in position todaywhich should makea big difference. Enemy’s batteries all concealed. In trench all day, plenty of shooting, some marvellous escapes. Went to beach for water at dusk with Jim Price, we were just coming away carrying a tin full of water between us when he was mortally wounded. Sergeant Smith accidentally shot himself in the foot. Heard fighting all night, Jack Hutchinson shot dead 3 yards away from me, Didsbury wounded. Reinforcements expected tomorrow morning, God speed them, our casualties are very heavy. There forces against us said to be 54,000. Snipers very troublesome.
Wednesday April 28th
Very hot fire this morning, reinforcements arrived, but we are not relieved yet. A party went out to settle last night and caught 3. Comparatively quiet today. Gen Birdwood wishes every man to be awake all night, general attack expected but not delivered. A very cold night and a very long one. Had about 3 hours sleep since we landed.
Thursday April 29th
Improve trenches daily, dug communication trench this morning. Turks seem to be taking a breather but we have to be very watchful. First wash today in a dixie at that. Warships continually bombarding. Lance Corporal Walker shot through elbow and lungs by sniper, died almost immediately. Snipers very busy, impossible to locate them amongst the scrub. God help them when we get to close quarters, we all have somebody or something to avenge. Ghurkas, Sikhs, and Tommies arrived, some battalions relieved. Bill Colven? Turned up, things decidedly quieter tonight, merely a steady exchange of shots. Several shot by snipers. Fair amount of sleep, very cold.
Friday April 30th
S.B’s bringing in dead. To be relieved for a spell this mornning. Formed up and marched to a place of comparative safety behind the ridge which slopes down to the beach , and made dug outs. Went for a dip in the afternoon. Several poor fellows killed and wounded in the water and on the beach by stray bullets. A great sight about here, the hill sloping down to the beach for about 1.5 miles, is just alive with troops of all kinds and the beach with stores, munitions, horses, mules, etc. Enjoyed a much needed long sleep from 7 pm until 7 am. Issue of tobacco."
Private John Gibson Pitt, orginally from Manchester, was with the 8th Battalion on that fateful day and in his personal diary is an excellent record of the events.
"Sunday April 18th
Transports arriving daily. 8am. The oil boat (“Lunik 1915”) came alongside and pumped water into us as hard as she could go. 10am. 8th Battalion band went over to H.M.S. “Sicilia” and gave them a few tunes. 11am. Officers and N.C.O's paraded and were told that we are to go ashore at Gallipoli in 3 destroyers and that we would be under fire before we landed. D Company No 1 destroyer. 2.30pm. Paraded in full order and took up our positions as will have to do when we land. The band went aboard H.M.S “Agamemnon” and were treated royally. Blue jackets and petty officers from aboard her borrowed their boats and came aboard us. Had a yarn with the Chief Engine Room Artificer.
Monday April 19th
Men swimming around the ship. Mail aboard after dinner. Rumours of setting off tomorrow. About 150 reinforcements from 14th battalion arrived 7.45pm.
Tuesday April 20th
Very fresh and a bit choppy this morning. One of a rowing party to row the Officers Patrol ashore and back. 1.45pm parade. Descending into boat. 2 pm. One of a party to row over to Hospital ship and back, rough, a hard tussle. 4.15pm Rowed ashore for party, arrived back about 6pm, very hard pulling , nearly an hour coming back, 2 men to an oar, 6 oarsmen. Artillerymen onboard fixing fuses to shrapnel shells.
Wednesday April 21st
Heavy rain through he night. Blowing hard. Rained till 3pm and then calmed down.
Thursday April 22nd
A lovely fresh breeze and blowing. Hospital ship, 2 transports and a fleet of trawlers arrived in this morning, also torpedo boat destroyer. On guard today, 3rd relief. About 20 A.M.C. Men and officers arrived aboard today. Mail arrived today been hung up for days. Tucker these days is bully beef and biscuits, porridge for breakfast. Do not expect to be here long.
Friday April 23rd
Guard 4am-8am, not a baddie yarmed to the cork?. 10.30am practised descending into boats. Naval heat aboard. Hydroplane flying around 9pm. Something doing. Troopship and warships moving outside torpedo nets. Band palying for last time, tonight packing instruments.
Saturday April 24th
5.30 am. Awoke to find the ship under way. We were just going past the lighthouse at the entrance and were followed by the “Mashobra” and “Mumewoska” (Divisional Flagship). Anchored still off the land about 9.30pm. Expect to land early in the morning. Parade 10am. Final inspection of everything. 3am Parade. Practised taking our positions for disembarkation. Captain Coulter read out necessary information and divisional standing orders. D company 2 positions to take tomorrow and next day.
Sunday April 25th
Reveille 3 am. 7 transports here now and the number eventually increased considerably. Shrapnel and rifle fire all around the boats. 7.15 am. Embarked in destroyer, one boatload of our battalion went before we did. Transferred wounded and dead from destroyer to “Clan Mc”. H.M.S. “Triumph”, “Bacchante” etc bombarding fort and gun positions as hard as they can. Boats were lashed to the side of the destroyer so that their bottoms just skimmed the water and the men were able to get in them while she was going. When she had got as close to the shore as the depth of the water would allow her, she slowed down and the boats were released from her side, when Pi----? Towed us in as far as they could and we rowed the rest, having to jump in the water, knee deep to land. The 3rd brigade were covering party and landed first. We formed up in platoons on the beach and forced our way through the thick and prickly scrub. There being another line in front of us, who had driven the Turks before them, we did not meet with a great deal of opposition, although we got the benefit of a good many bullets fired at the front line, and some shrapnel. When we got to the first ridge in land, we were ordered by Lieut Colonel Gartside to strengthen the line already established there and dig in as he considered that all our fellows out in front would have to retire there before night, as they had met with considerable forces of the enemy and were losing heavily. Tom Keddie and I dug in next to one another and then turned our attention on a very troublesome sniper on our left front, he moved about and we could not get a good shot at him as he was so hard to see in the thick scrub. He eventually got Tom K in the calf of the leg, the bullet must have passed over me , I was dug in deeper than he was. Bandaged him up and took him to the rear, he gave me his automatic. Our fellows in front were compelled to retire during the afternoon after losing very heavily, especially in officers. Entrenched as hard as we could at night, firing all night. Shrapnel did us the most damage, and we had no artillery on land, and the warships were of course at a disadvantage, although they did splendid work. The Turks made repeated attacks during the night but were always repulsed.
Monday April 26th
Artillery expected ashore today, warships still bombarding. Barney Allan shot through mouth. Wounded men everywhere, SB’s and doctors scarce. 12am. Casualties estimated at 4,000, 75% 8th battalion officers out of action, 60% dead, very sad. A.M.C out all night and did splendid work. Rejoined company on battalions left flank, made dug outs till 4pm, then went in trenches to help cover advance to be made on our left. They advanced and were repulsed time after time, shrapnel fire awful. Slight advance at last. The warships helped us considerably. Splendid shooting today. In trenches all night, several minor attacks. No sleep.
Tuesday April 27th
Our artillery will be in position todaywhich should makea big difference. Enemy’s batteries all concealed. In trench all day, plenty of shooting, some marvellous escapes. Went to beach for water at dusk with Jim Price, we were just coming away carrying a tin full of water between us when he was mortally wounded. Sergeant Smith accidentally shot himself in the foot. Heard fighting all night, Jack Hutchinson shot dead 3 yards away from me, Didsbury wounded. Reinforcements expected tomorrow morning, God speed them, our casualties are very heavy. There forces against us said to be 54,000. Snipers very troublesome.
Wednesday April 28th
Very hot fire this morning, reinforcements arrived, but we are not relieved yet. A party went out to settle last night and caught 3. Comparatively quiet today. Gen Birdwood wishes every man to be awake all night, general attack expected but not delivered. A very cold night and a very long one. Had about 3 hours sleep since we landed.
Thursday April 29th
Improve trenches daily, dug communication trench this morning. Turks seem to be taking a breather but we have to be very watchful. First wash today in a dixie at that. Warships continually bombarding. Lance Corporal Walker shot through elbow and lungs by sniper, died almost immediately. Snipers very busy, impossible to locate them amongst the scrub. God help them when we get to close quarters, we all have somebody or something to avenge. Ghurkas, Sikhs, and Tommies arrived, some battalions relieved. Bill Colven? Turned up, things decidedly quieter tonight, merely a steady exchange of shots. Several shot by snipers. Fair amount of sleep, very cold.
Friday April 30th
S.B’s bringing in dead. To be relieved for a spell this mornning. Formed up and marched to a place of comparative safety behind the ridge which slopes down to the beach , and made dug outs. Went for a dip in the afternoon. Several poor fellows killed and wounded in the water and on the beach by stray bullets. A great sight about here, the hill sloping down to the beach for about 1.5 miles, is just alive with troops of all kinds and the beach with stores, munitions, horses, mules, etc. Enjoyed a much needed long sleep from 7 pm until 7 am. Issue of tobacco."
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Gallipoli Landing as recalled by Corporal Nixon, 13th Battalion, AIF.
This article in the Eastbourne Gazette from 1915, gives a personal account of the landing at Gallipoli on 25th April 1915, by Corporal Nixon of the 13th Battalion. Corporal Nixon was convalescing at the Summerdown Camp in Eastbourne after a wound to his left shoulder.
This is a fascinating account for the Newspaper. It starts off with plausible information about the initial attack, but as you read on it gets more and more bizarre!
After reading it you are left with the impression that Corporal Nixon enjoyed telling a ‘tale or two’ and had a captive audience with the newspaper reporter who believed everything he recalled.
“How the Australians Routed the Turks
Colonial Wounded By Sniper
Corporal Nixon of the 13th New South Wales Battalion, who is a Sydney man, told a “Gazette” representative a thrilling story of the landing at the Dardanelles. He arrived there he said, on the memorable 25th April. They had been at the peaceful Greek island of Lemnos and while on their voyage to the scene of one battle they were watching another conflict in progress. It was an amazing spectacle. The landing of the Australians was unprecedented in any warfare. Men were landed in open boats in small parties, and when they reached the shore the positions was so difficult that there was no possibility of any military formation being attempted.
“We fixed bayonets and rushed the Turks over the hill in the most extraordinary manner,” he said. “It was never intended that we should land where we did; we were taken there by some strange current. There was barbed wire entanglement under and above the water and the sea was heavily mined.”
“There was also a sheer precipice in front of us. We hopped out and the Turks could not make much defence; they only had a few machine guns. It was a magnificent sight and I would not have missed it for the worlds. As the General said, ‘Our men fought with such wonderful cheerfulness and absolute fearlessness.’ We were without trenches for twenty-four hours. Our greatest source of trouble was the snipers. They had picked marksmen in every shrub and among the dead leaves. We had to take of our packs and leave them on the beach; we could not carry them up the hill.”
Corporal Nixon added that as night advanced they had orders to retreat, and they found there were German Officers in Australian uniforms in their trenches giving orders. These Germans could speak very good English with an accent which deceived the Colonials who had not travelled much. They also engaged one man as an interpreter. He said he was an Armenian, but at Alexandria he was found to be a spy and arrested.
The “Queen Elizabeth” is doing splendid work and Corporal Nixon saw one of her shells kill 300 Turkish cavalry. The Navy rendered wonderful assistance in the landing.
Corporal Nixon mentioned the case of a Turk who was a prisoner on board a British ship. The Turk had twenty-seven bayonet wounds and a broken thigh. He died eventually but it was remarkable that he should have lived so long. He had been taken out of goal (to which he had been confined for murdering his wife) to fight and this was not an isolated case. Turks had taken small farmers off their land with a threat to seize their holdings if they did not take up arms.
Corporal Nixon, who was wounded in the left shoulder by a sniper on April 28th, speaks very highly of the kindness shown them by a number of private residents of Eastbourne and remarked yesterday that they were having, ‘true Australian weather.”
(Corporal Rupert Charles Clive Wallace Nixon of Harriett Street, Neutral Bay, Sydney enlisted 24th September 1914 aged 22. (No. 663).
He embarked at Melbourne with the 13th Battalion on “HMS Ulysses”, on 22nd December 1914.)
This is a fascinating account for the Newspaper. It starts off with plausible information about the initial attack, but as you read on it gets more and more bizarre!
After reading it you are left with the impression that Corporal Nixon enjoyed telling a ‘tale or two’ and had a captive audience with the newspaper reporter who believed everything he recalled.
“How the Australians Routed the Turks
Colonial Wounded By Sniper
Corporal Nixon of the 13th New South Wales Battalion, who is a Sydney man, told a “Gazette” representative a thrilling story of the landing at the Dardanelles. He arrived there he said, on the memorable 25th April. They had been at the peaceful Greek island of Lemnos and while on their voyage to the scene of one battle they were watching another conflict in progress. It was an amazing spectacle. The landing of the Australians was unprecedented in any warfare. Men were landed in open boats in small parties, and when they reached the shore the positions was so difficult that there was no possibility of any military formation being attempted.
“We fixed bayonets and rushed the Turks over the hill in the most extraordinary manner,” he said. “It was never intended that we should land where we did; we were taken there by some strange current. There was barbed wire entanglement under and above the water and the sea was heavily mined.”
“There was also a sheer precipice in front of us. We hopped out and the Turks could not make much defence; they only had a few machine guns. It was a magnificent sight and I would not have missed it for the worlds. As the General said, ‘Our men fought with such wonderful cheerfulness and absolute fearlessness.’ We were without trenches for twenty-four hours. Our greatest source of trouble was the snipers. They had picked marksmen in every shrub and among the dead leaves. We had to take of our packs and leave them on the beach; we could not carry them up the hill.”
Corporal Nixon added that as night advanced they had orders to retreat, and they found there were German Officers in Australian uniforms in their trenches giving orders. These Germans could speak very good English with an accent which deceived the Colonials who had not travelled much. They also engaged one man as an interpreter. He said he was an Armenian, but at Alexandria he was found to be a spy and arrested.
The “Queen Elizabeth” is doing splendid work and Corporal Nixon saw one of her shells kill 300 Turkish cavalry. The Navy rendered wonderful assistance in the landing.
Corporal Nixon mentioned the case of a Turk who was a prisoner on board a British ship. The Turk had twenty-seven bayonet wounds and a broken thigh. He died eventually but it was remarkable that he should have lived so long. He had been taken out of goal (to which he had been confined for murdering his wife) to fight and this was not an isolated case. Turks had taken small farmers off their land with a threat to seize their holdings if they did not take up arms.
Corporal Nixon, who was wounded in the left shoulder by a sniper on April 28th, speaks very highly of the kindness shown them by a number of private residents of Eastbourne and remarked yesterday that they were having, ‘true Australian weather.”
(Corporal Rupert Charles Clive Wallace Nixon of Harriett Street, Neutral Bay, Sydney enlisted 24th September 1914 aged 22. (No. 663).
He embarked at Melbourne with the 13th Battalion on “HMS Ulysses”, on 22nd December 1914.)
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