rations to units all finished by 9.30 a.m., and to-day, no sooner had
I finished than over the brutes came. There is a lot of artillery work
about to-day, and we have pushed a little in a very small part of our
centre, just to straighten a bulge in our line. Three cruisers have
been in action up off the coast above “Y” Beach, bombarding the Turkish
right part of line, and right over the Peninsula on to Asia. It is nice
to hear the sound of the guns of battleships again, but I do not think
that their guns do the damage against positions on land that I imagined
they would do before this campaign. The trajectory of their shells is
too low, especially considering the geographical formations on this
Peninsula, which provides good cover everywhere for the enemy. There
is great anticipation in the air about this coming landing, but nobody
knows when and where it is to take place.
_August 3rd._
Aviatik aeroplane comes over this morning and drops a few bombs. Later
in the day high explosive howitzer shells come over from Asia. Heavy
artillery duels now going on. Everything the same, but shelling a bit
heavier on “W” Beach.
We hope each day that the great fight will come soon and end this show,
but each day seems the same as yesterday, and we can only anticipate
that to-morrow will be the same as to-day.
Two officers buried in dugout at Supply depot by shell this morning.
Both rescued and carried off to hospital. Shells over all the time we
are issuing, and it is terribly trying, as there is absolutely no cover
for us, and we, of course, have to stick it.
Our S.S.O., Major Shorto, just managed to get behind stack of hay in
time, out of the way of an “Asiatic Annie.” Two cruisers come up in
the afternoon and heavily shell left of Achi Baba with broadside after
broadside, and it is encouraging to hear their welcome boom.
After dinner I ride over to Gully Beach with Cooke and Petro, via top
road. Not much fun riding by day now.
Very quiet in front, but at 10 p.m. firing begins, and we can
distinctly hear the explosions of those terrible weapons—bombs. It dies
down after a while.
_August 4th._
Perfect, calm sea; hot day. The big gun at Achi Baba left us alone
while issuing this morning, but in its place a howitzer on Asiatic side
kept us alive and steadily dropped shells around us. Phew! I am glad
when that morning issuing is over, for every morning regularly now we
are shelled.
Later in morning, she tried dropping them on edge of cliff, and reached
once or twice. Not much damage, and a howitzer gives plenty of warning.
But one cannot so easily gauge where their shells are going to drop as
with the other guns.
_2 o’clock._
Shelling by big guns from Achi has now started, and they are dropping
on the beach, and everybody is taking cover for dear life. Now howitzer
from Asia is joining in. Nothing much happened to-day, except heavy
artillery duels, and with the anniversary of the war we find ourselves
not much further forward than we were two months ago.
_August 5th._
Another hot, depressing, monotonous and nervy day. Was officer of
the day at the Supply depot, and, as usual, shells came over. A
fuse whizzed near our heads with a most weird singing noise. French
battleship at entrance bombarded Asia, and two British cruisers on West
Coast bombarded Achi.
Something big is going to happen soon. I may add that this sentence
has been passed from mouth to mouth for the last week, and if that
something does not happen soon we shall all be in a devil of a fix on
this tiny little tip of the Peninsula.
So dangerous has it now become to walk about in the open that a
communication trench has been dug from “X” Beach right to the
firing-line, and so troops landing on “W” Beach can walk round the road
at the foot of cliffs and straight up this trench to fire-trenches.
Most of the transport by day goes by this road, only venturing in the
open on high land by night.
Our depot, however, still remains in the same place, exposed to
and ranged on by enemy’s guns, with the result that we get shelled
regularly every day, and the sigh of relief that will go up to heaven
when we have orders to move will echo from Asia to the Ægean.
Ride up to Gully Beach with Cooke and Farquhar and see Brigade, and
after, ride up the gully and across to Pink Farm. Nothing doing on
front. We enjoy the ride and exercise. Devilish difficult getting a
decent ride nowadays. At Pink Farm, bullets as usual chanting their
pinging song.
On the way back a Monitor up the coast starts firing heavily, making
a huge flash, lighting up for a big distance the sky and land, a roar
like a crash of thunder immediately following.
_August 6th._
On duty at 6 a.m. at Supply depot. Several shells come over at the
shipping, but none into our depot, shrieking overhead like lost spirits.
Distant sounds of heavy bombardment going on up north, and one man said
that he saw through glasses shrapnel bursting up the coast ten miles
away. If so, a landing probably is being attempted at Suvla Bay.
Ammunition ship with an evidently damned fool of a captain comes in
at two o’clock in broad daylight, and of course gets shelled. Pretty
good shooting on part of Mr. Turk, and ship gets several narrow shaves.
The vessel then backs out towards two hospital ships, and these of
course get nearly hit, one shell going right over one of them. The ship
finally gets away after being clumsily handled; but it is bad form to
back near a hospital ship. The hospital ships lie off here night and
day, well within range of the Turkish batteries, which never fire on
them unless a supply or ammunition ship goes near.
_2 o’clock._
A heavy bombardment on our part has started. We have again begun
to hammer at the doors of the Dardanelles. The sound is not unlike
thousands of men beating big drums, with thousands of trains running
through tunnels. The bombardment is heavier than anything previous,
and is concentrated on our left centre in front of Krithia. A few
French batteries are joining in, and all the British and two Monitors,
the _Raglan_ and the _Abercrombie_, and a light cruiser, with several
destroyers, open fire as well.
The 14-inch guns of the Monitors make an ear-splitting row when they
fire, and the bursting shell throws up a column of smoke and dust quite
300 feet into the air. One was plumping them in and about Krithia, and
the other on the west ridge of Achi Baba.
A field battery of the Turks opens fire on one of the Monitors just
off where we are sitting, and we are rather amused at their efforts;
yet imagine our surprise when one of their shells actually hits the
Monitor, the _Raglan_, without doing any more damage than denting her a
little, at least as far as we can see. We hear the sound of the shell
hitting her armour.
An accident which might have proved serious occurs shortly after. The
Monitor fired one of her guns, and almost simultaneously the other
gun, which is depressed, fires, and the shell strikes the water,
then ricochets off on to Gully Beach, exploding, killing one man and
wounding six.
The bombardment died down somewhat at four, and increased its range,
and then there burst out the undertone of rifle fire, sounding like
hundreds of carts rolling over cobbled stones, with the spasmodic
pop-pops of the machine guns. Later we catch glimpses of little khaki
figures charging towards Turkish trenches in front of Krithia. All this
time Krithia is getting fair hell from our guns. At six, firing dies
down to spasmodic gun and rifle fire.
At the time of writing I hear that my Brigade, the 88th, have
distinguished themselves, especially the Essex, and that two lines of
trenches have been captured.
At dusk the destroyers, Monitors and the cruisers have gone home, and
the aeroplanes to roost.
During the fight I notice lots of shrapnel shells bursting behind
Anzac, so no doubt the Australians and New Zealanders are fighting as
well. And in the distance, though it is difficult to see, I saw several
white puffs of shrapnel bursting.
It is now a cool evening, with a bit of a wind, and spasmodic firing is
going on inland.
Saw Finlay in evening and then turned in.
_August 7th._
Up at six a.m. and ride out towards Brigade H.Q., but the Turks have
started to heavily bombard our lines, and we are replying, so I
postpone my visit, for Pink Farm and the Krithia road are getting it
badly.
At 9 a.m., Monitors, destroyers, and cruisers come and join in the
bombardment, which continues all the morning.
At 2 p.m. I ride up with Phillips to Pink Farm, and leaving our horses,
we walk up the communication trench to Brigade H.Q. Bullets very free
overhead, and we keep our heads low. R.M.L.I. going up to the trenches.
Some of them look quite young boys, and all look hot and tired and
serious.
I find the Brigade have gone back to Gully Beach. We were badly cut up
in yesterday’s battle. Day and Black have gone, good pals of mine, both
killed. This is the most horrible side of war. They were so merry and
bright along the beach a few days ago. It seems that all the best go.
Come back to Pink Farm, passing Jennings going up. Turkish attack
starts, and our artillery gets on to them, but they still come on
determinedly, and seem very cocksure of themselves.
Ride over to Gully Beach and see remnants of the Brigade along cliffs
again. What a change to two days ago! Tommies cooking their meals,
talking over yesterday’s battle and pals that have been killed. I look
for Day and Black instinctively, but of course in vain. The beach looks
blank and depressing. Algy Wood is still there, however; wonderful man,
been through everything and not been hit, and thank God for it. Poor
old 88th!
Come back to “W” Beach and find them shelling us, just to show us they
are still very much alive.
Hear that another landing has taken place, and was successful, at Suvla
Bay.
Artillery duels and rifle fire still continue. Destroyers make a dash
up Straits as far as just above De Tott’s Battery, and have a bit of a
duel with land batteries. Shrapnel playing all over them.
I think fighting will go on steadily here now with no more delay, for
it is vital to the Allies that the Dardanelles be forced, and when they
are forced, good-bye to Turk, and Germany look out! We have got to get
all our own back—and more.
_8 p.m._
Very heavy rifle fire opens, and Turkish attack takes place. Just what
we want; they might just as well run their heads against a brick wall,
but no doubt they think that they will eventually break through our
line and round us up, or drive us into the sea.
_August 8th._
Rather a stormy day. Not much shelling on “W” Beach.
One can see plainly through glasses where the new landing has taken
place; hospital ships, transports, destroyers, and three battleships
are off there. Rumour hath it that the landing was successful, and
that they are advancing across the Peninsula. Heavy firing goes on all
day from batteries on shore and warships on sea, answered but feebly
by Turkish batteries, which, however, do not fail to pay their usual
unwelcome attention to “W” Beach.
A Turkish battleship, on the way down here to support land forces, was
sunk to-day by one of our submarines, which is a great event.
Heavy artillery fire goes on to-night on our left.
_August 9th._
Usual shelling, and some nasty ones amongst them.
Ride up the gully and have a good gallop on a new little horse with
Williams.
_Afternoon._
Can see new landing through glasses. Gorse there seems on fire.
Transports very busy going to and fro on horizon.
Ride up the gully along the top road at night with Cooke, and have a
chat with a few Irish R.A.M.C. pals.
Artillery duels on our front all day. Hear that in addition to Turkish
battleship being sunk, also Turkish gunboat and empty transport.
Submarine also opened fire on Turkish battalions marching on shore. Our
submarine commanders are “some” lads.
Heavy firing from battleships goes on all night up north. Good rumours
come in from time to time that the new landing forces have captured the
hills in front of them and Anafarta, and are overlooking the Straits
the other side. If this is so, then this show will be over in a few
weeks.
_August 10th._
Very quiet on this front, but a little shelling as usual on to “W”
Beach. Went up the gully in the afternoon. Brigade still in rest there.
Shells come over to Gully Beach.
Cruiser firing up coast again. Turks attack at 8 p.m., and again at
11.30 p.m.
_August 11th._
Slight intermittent shelling on beaches and roads from Turks all day.
_Afternoon._
French battleship _Saint-Louis_ takes up position off our part of the
coast, but before she fires, Turkish batteries open fire on her and
one shell hits her, and through glasses I see something catching fire
and men running. Fire extinguished. Battleship manœuvres for fresh
position, and having taken it up, fires with all her 6-inch guns on
west of Achi Baba. All the while heavy fighting is going on, on our
right, by French.
New landing has now linked hands with Anzac, and is three and a half
miles inland.
Our troops at the new landing are not moving as fast as was at
first expected, but reports are that Kitchener’s Army are fighting
magnificently.
The Indian Brigade unfortunately had to give ground last night, but not
of much consequence.
I semaphore a message from the beach to McArthur on a submarine,
and submarine smartly picks it up and acknowledges. It is from a
lady friend, from whom I have just received a letter, to a friend of
McArthur’s.
On the way back a shell comes near; goes right through the roof of
D.A.Q.M.G.’s office as I was passing, and penetrates the earth wall on
far side while D.A.Q.M.G. is writing at his desk. It did not explode,
and he was most fortunately unhurt. Afterwards, he said that he dropped
his pencil with surprise.
_August 12th._
A fairly quiet day. Rode with Hyslop to the gully. Hardly any shelling
on “W” Beach, and what shells did come over were only “poop-squeaks,”
the majority not bursting. I suppose the Turks are taking the artillery
away from here to positions against our men at Suvla. Aeroplanes
buzzing about as usual this end, and one of the “E” type submarines
comes down from the Straits. But the Navy keeps things dark, and since
the last submarine stunt we have heard nothing.
Destroyers off “W” coast find a target on west ridge of the hill.
Findlay-Smith comes to dinner.
_August 13th._
Very hot, and a calm sea. Not much shelling, but a few “poop-squeaks”
fall in Supply depot; one man wounded. Shelling seems to be dying away.
Rode to the gully to Cregan. On duty at depot in the afternoon.
Fighting last night in centre and again this morning. Noticed very big
explosions in Turkish trenches on their right, throwing earth and smoke
quite 300 feet. On inquiry found that they were our trench mortars at
work, throwing 100 lb. shells. That will shake things up a bit.
Very quiet night.
_August 14th._
On duty at depot at 6 a.m. Very quiet, no shelling. Wonderfully quiet
altogether now: hardly a rifleshot.
Rode up to the Gully Beach, and then rode out with Mathias to Pink Farm
and walked up the trench to Brigade H.Q. Hardly a shell, and only a
few bullets. What is happening? Anyway, it is nice for us, and it is a
relief to be able to ride about in safety.
Found Way at H.Q., and also saw Thomson once more. Was very glad to see
him. Rode with Way back to the gully, passing old Butler asleep under a
tree. Told him that a shell would soon pitch on his “tummy”; to which
he replied, “It is all right: the Turks think I’m a mule.”
Call on Munster Fusiliers beyond Gully Beach in dugouts on cliff, half
way to Shrapnel Point, and have tea with Geddes and Nightingale. We
passed General de Lisle superintending the building of a new pier off
Gully Beach.
Have a nice canter home. After dinner a Turkish four-gun battery on
Asiatic side fires over a salvo of high explosives, followed by another
and another in quick succession. It was a surprise to us, but did not
last long, as our friends the Monitors got on to them, on which I
suppose they limbered up and bolted. I hope they will not do it in the
middle of the night. The shells burst in the Arabs’ camp beyond the
aerodrome, causing them to clear, making a row like a panic-stricken
poultry yard.
No news from the north.
_10.30 p.m._
Turkish battery at Yen-i-Shehr again starts firing salvos, very
rapidly, and shells, four at a time, come over in succession. Shells
almost reach “W” Beach, and, anticipating their arrival near us,
Phillips and I curse, and have to get up and leave our tent and go
to dugout. Suddenly a great flash over the sky behind Rabbit Island
is noticed, and shortly afterwards a great bursting flame behind
Yen-i-Shehr. A very awe-inspiring sight. After quite a pause, there
follows a great peal of thunder—rumbling on—which ends with a great
crash. This happens once or twice, when the Turkish battery shuts up.
It is the Monitor behind Rabbit Island firing its great gun. The whole
incident was like a few naughty boys throwing stones at a house, the
owner of which telephones to the police (the Monitor behind Rabbit
Island), who without delay take effective measures to stop the
nuisance. It was really nothing more than a nuisance, and gained no
military advantage for the Turk.
_August 15th._
A very windy day, almost a Gallipoli gale blowing down land, and in
consequence dust-storms start as usual.
Two guns on Achi start firing towards our tents. Why? Lord knows, for
there is nothing here to fire at but our tents, and those can’t be seen
by them. They do no harm, but are a beastly nuisance, as we keep on
having to duck. The wind is so strong that we do not hear them coming
till they are right on to us.
After lunch I ride along the top road with Carver, and dipping down on
to Gully Beach, ride up the gully a little way, and turn off to the
left into a ravine, where we leave our horses. Climbing up the cliffs,
we call at the mess of Major Gibbon’s battery, where tea is awaiting in
a delightful summer-house surrounded with rocks and shrubbery. Duff is
there, and Monro too. The battery is in position a few yards away in an
artfully hidden spot, never as yet having been discovered by the enemy.
Out to sea a small cruiser is in action, firing on a target on the
left of Achi Baba. A Turkish battery on the extreme right is in action
against her, recording a few hits, without causing much damage, but
making it necessary for the cruiser to manœuvre constantly for a fresh
position.
Heavy firing occurs in the night, and the enemy strongly attack the
Anzacs, with no success.
_August 16th._
Having been invited to breakfast with the Hampshires, who are up the
line, I ride up to the nullah in front of Pink Farm and leave my horse
there, where he is given his breakfast. On arrival at the Brigade H.Q.
at the end of the long trench—or the mule-track, as we now call it—I
am given a guide of the Royal Scots, who, however, has difficulty in
finding the battalion H.Q. We wander about awhile before we reach our
destination, reminding me of an endeavour to thread a way through
Hampton Court maze. Up one long winding trench my guide puzzles me
somewhat by the remark, “‘B’ trench, sir, but not a bee-line.” At first
I am puzzled as to what he is driving at, but gradually it dawns on me
that he is cracking with difficulty an obtuse Scottish joke, occasioned
by the long winding walk up the trench, which I notice is called “B”
Communication Trench.
Battalion H.Q. found at last. I have an excellent breakfast of hot
cocoa, sardines, bread and jam, and at the end of the meal I am taken
up to do a tour of the line. First we make a visit to the battalion
H.Q. of the Essex, where I see Algy Wood and Colonel Rice; then I am
shown the cookhouse of the Hampshires. Owing to a curiously small and
deep ravine, it has not been found necessary to dig trenches here.
Instead, communication trenches lead off from the small nullah, only
a hundred and fifty yards away from our front line, in five different
directions, like streets leading off from a circus. We pass up that
part of the communication trench leading to the line which the
Hampshires are holding. On arrival here I am greeted with a wave of
sickening odour, a blend of decaying bodies and chloride of lime. The
scene in the first-line trench is alive with interest; there officers
and men are on the alert. Every four yards men are standing on the
fire-steps looking out through periscopes, held in their hands or fixed
to rifles. Others are cleaning up the floors or sides of the trench,
as the parlour-maid would the room of a house. Others are improving
parapets, levelling the sides and floors of the trench. A few are still
at breakfast—one I noticed consisting of two fried eggs, a piece of
steak, bread and honey, and hot tea.
I am taken up a sap by one of the officers on duty in the front line,
a cheery young man named Moore, who has recently won the V.C. At the
sap-head, looking through a periscope, I see not fifty yards away
in front a sap-head jutting out from a Turkish trench. Turning the
periscope round from left to right, I see a sight which fills me with
sorrow. I see lying in all postures—some alone, some in groups of three
to six—the dead bodies of brave British Tommies, who a fortnight ago
were alive and well, merry and bright, enjoying the bathing off Gully
Beach. They had lost their lives in the battle of August 6th, and had
never even had the satisfaction of reaching Turkish territory. After
the battle our positions in the “H” trenches (as this part of the line
is termed) remained unchanged from what they were before; but hundreds
of brave men had gone forth from there never to return, and I am afraid
few became prisoners.
The end of the sap in which I am standing is protected from enemy bombs
by a roof of wire-netting. A drain pipe penetrates the earth at the end
of the sap, with its mouth filled by a rolled up empty sand-bag. For my
benefit this is taken out, and looking through, I see quite close to me
the corpse of one of our brave fellows, blackened by exposure. Efforts
will be made to recover some of these bodies as soon as opportunity
allows. Looking further ahead through the pipe, I have a good view of
the Turkish front line. A sentry is sitting beside the pipe, and at
intervals he removes the sand-bag from the mouth, carefully looking
out for any activity on the part of the Turk. I prefer to look through
a periscope, and take it up once more. Not being used to them, I
raise it too high, my arms appearing above the parapet. A thoughtful
Tommy alongside of me gently pulls my arms down behind the cover of
the sand-bags. The Turkish sniper is always on the lookout for the
careless, who expose themselves even a few inches, and is often clever
in getting a bull’s-eye at the first shot. However, one through the
arm would be luck. What could be better than the pleasure of lunching
at Ciro’s with an arm in a sling from a wound? I take a careful survey
of the Turkish line, running along a gentle rise in front of me, and
after a while, I notice a shovel lifted over the parapet and a spray
of earth thrown over, and this happens several times. A Turk at work,
probably improving his fire-step.
As I go back into the front line, I notice that at intervals we have
fixed into the sand-bagged parapet iron plates, with little holes
punctured in them, protected by a small shield hanging on a hinge like
the shield to a keyhole. Through these holes, when necessary, our men
place their rifles, firing with good protection to themselves. I am
shown our catapults for throwing bombs, almost the same as the ancient
weapons of Rome. Also trench mortars, funny squat cannons with short,
wide, gaping mouths. Occasionally during the tour bullets come over.
They “zip” over up here, and “ping” with a long ring further back over
the roads behind our line. Now and again they strike our parapet,
sounding like the blow of a great brick thrown with a great force. The
trenches are full of flies, hot and stuffy, with ever that sickly smell
of the dead and chloride of lime, but fortunately quite dry and very
clean. And the men are merry and keen, and delighted to show round one
who seldom enters a trench and is ignorant of the life spent there.
_Evening._
It has been very quiet during the day, but a few shells came over to
“W” Beach; most of them did not explode.
_August 17th._