were several casualties in the valley. Fortunately it only lasted half
an hour. Our men are busy making shrapnel-proof head cover. One gun
somewhere by Sari Bair is very fond of chucking over, to our camps
on this promontory, 5·9 shrapnel. One does not hear the boom of the
gun, which I think must be a howitzer. The first warning one has of
the thing coming is a sound like some one blowing with his lips very
softly. This gets louder and louder, until with a cat-like shriek and
bang it explodes over one’s head. Having to depend on being warned by
such a common sound is of course the cause of many false alarms. In
fact, a man blowing with his lips is sufficient to make another man
cock his ears and listen.
_September 23rd._
A quiet day, but for the usual cannonading on both sides, a few 5·9
shrapnel shells coming our way at four in the afternoon. Reinforcements
arriving daily. A cold gale blowing all day. At six we have another
bout of shelling, while we are loading up A.T. carts, one shell
pitching right in our depot, and one of our poor chaps being badly hit,
from which he is not expected to recover. (He has since died. A nice
boy, only nineteen.)
_September 24th._
A quiet morning. News reaches us that Bulgaria is in, but whether
for us or against us is uncertain. Naturally, therefore, there is a
feeling of great anxiety prevalent. We hope to have more definite news
to-night. Heavy gale blowing this morning, calming down later. A very
quiet day, no shells coming our way. At Anzac, at eight to-night, a bit
of a severe battle took place, probably a Turkish attack. There was
a continual roar of musketry and shells bursting on the side of Sari
Bair. It was a surprise attack on the part of the New Zealanders, and
so far has proved successful. Firing developed along our front from
Chocolate Hill, and a feeble Turkish attack started in front of our
Brigade, the Worcesters taking the blow. It was with ease beaten off,
and died away after half an hour. We lost about twelve men.
_September 25th._
A quiet day; just the usual artillery duels, no shells coming our way.
Walked up to Brigade H.Q. in the evening. Battalion of the London
Regiment joins Brigade. Lovely moonlight night. Rather a lot of firing
on our front, and bullets a bit free. Meet Stewart and Lachard at
Brigade, Stewart having come to relieve Lachard, who is going back
to Helles. Walked back together. A bright flash from the _Swiftsure_
in the bay denotes that she has fired one of her big guns, and a few
seconds after a loud report is heard, and the rumble of a shell as
it passed over Sari Bair on to “somewhere” goes on for a long time
before one hears the distant report of its burst. I hear the sound
of propellers overhead, and think I can see the airship from Imbros
sailing over towards Anafarta. The _Swiftsure_ fires once more, and
then all is quiet for an hour. Then a Turkish battery puts a shell over
to us, and follows this up with one every ten minutes, continuing for
an hour!
_September 26th._
Awakened in the morning by the 5·9 shrapnel coming over and bursting
overhead, and we are subjected to an hour of it. None of our men hit,
but about four mules hit. A beautiful day and sea calm; work of
unloading stores proceeds apace. Artillery duels, but no shells come
our way till four, when one shell bursts uncomfortably near. One feels
a bit shaky for an hour after such an event, but we have got to stick
it.
_September 27th._
A very fine day, but a trifle hot; the flies seem to be swarming more
than ever, and they are a great plague. Usual artillery duel from the
batteries on shore and the Fleet in the bay. Seeing a lot of Arthur
McDougall now, an awfully nice boy in Middlesex Yeomanry. Hear that
O’Hara, our D.A.Q.M.G., is leaving the Division. All of us very sorry
to lose him. Has got a lieutenant-colonelcy at G.H.Q., and deserves the
push up. At 7.30 p.m. a burst of rifle fire started at Chocolate Hill.
All the batteries on shore took it up; the warships in the bay joined
in—battleships and Monitors and the like—and such an infernal din is
now heard that the whole Peninsula seems to shake, and the evening sky
is studded with innumerable flashes, right away to Anzac and beyond.
It is very impressive, and lasts for an hour and a half. It turned out
to be all panic. There has been good news of the French in Champagne;
somebody in the trenches cheered—everybody else let his rifle off—and
then the whole pandemonium started! The Turk never replied at all, and
there was no attack; the moon shining peacefully above must have smiled
at the folly of man this night!
Go up to Brigade with Carver and Stewart. Moonlight night, the bay
looking beautiful and quite enjoyable, except over the bullet-swept
area. Called at 86th H.Q. on the way back, and picked up Way, and had a
chat with Thomson, who had just come back from staying at Athens for a
few days.
_September 28th._
Wood, of the Essex Regiment, comes in early, and I give him a bed and
breakfast and have a long chat about life here. Has just come back
from a month’s leave. Now has his majority. Get up to see O’Hara off.
Peaceful morning; beaches represent hives of industry. Engineers busy
making a pier out of a sunken ship, their hammers reminding one of the
happy days of civilian life in the work towns of the North and Centre
of England. An Indian shepherd is guarding his flock of sheep (destined
to be slaughtered for the Indian troops) in front of our dugout on
the slopes of the hill, while the distant roar of guns can be heard
further south. Cooke arrives from Helles to join us. Hear that Collier
is leaving us, so that we are now without a major or a colonel. Go
up to H.Q. in car at nine, with a London Regiment officer and Arthur
McDougall. Very bumpy ride. Find Stewart there. A bullet has knocked
Stewart’s hat off, but he does not seem to be upset much, and when he
gets back just calmly sews up the two burnt holes. Getting water up to
troops still entailing a lot of worry and work. The water is pumped
from lighters through a pipe which dips into the sea. Yesterday water
was very salt, as sea-water had got in. Was very ill in the night
through this. Called up in night as water-carts had gone to wrong place
and a further supply had to be sent up. This water business is the
worst of all. All the animals have to be taken down to water at the
usual times. A Transport Officer from the depot here, who has been down
to see me once or twice on business, has told me that in his opinion
the most trying duty of all is seeing the animals watered. The troughs
are in full sight of the Turkish gunners, and the long lines of dust
emerging from the transport gully give the clue. He tells me that this
is when he gets jumpy. Absolutely in the open—water trickling into the
troughs slowly—and he has to stand and see that every beast has enough.
Then the shelling starts—mules fall, but still the others must have
their fill and not be _hurried_, and it seems like hours, and some of
the beasts all unconscious—appearing as if they will never finish. It
must be a merry job—and it has to be done three times a day. An officer
has to be present, or the overwhelming temptation to hurry up and get
off becomes too much for the men, and no wonder!
_September 29th._
Camp Commandant comes to inform us that we have to clear out of our
place, which is comparatively safe, and move to an exposed position
further inland, in full view of the Turks. We shall be absolutely
shelled out if we have a Supply depot there, with A.T. carts and
motor-lorries coming to and fro from Main Supply depot all day, and it
will cripple our work. Hope to get this order cancelled.
Have told D.H.Q., who have promised to see Camp Commandant. Usual
artillery firing all day, and ship’s guns joining in. Submarines have
been busy. One French transport sunk and two British—one empty and one
containing Gurkhas and Punjabis. _Swiftsure_ had a narrow escape the
other day, two torpedoes just missing her.
_September 30th._
A very fine day, not a cloud in the sky; very hot, and flies, now
in myriads, perfectly appalling. See Camp Commandant as to moving
our Supply depot to the exposed part of the Peninsula. Finally he
gives way, and finds another and safer place for us at the foot of IX
Corps Gully. Hardly any shelling from Turks, but our guns busy and
battleships as well. Go up to Brigade in evening. Quiet night, and so
ends September, a deadly month. No movement on our part all the month:
no action, except little mirror stunts such as straightening our line,
digging saps, bombing expeditions, and artillery duels. All the time we
steadily lose killed and wounded and a seriously large percentage of
sick, and we drift and drift on.
_To where?_
OCTOBER
_October 1st._
A very misty morning, everything hidden in the valleys, also the ships
in the harbour. At one o’clock we are shelled by high explosives
and 5·9 shrapnel, and it lasts an hour; very unpleasant. I hate the
shelling more and more as time goes on.
Some mysterious move is going on. The 87th, now at Imbros, have wired
for their machine guns, and rumours that troops have left here during
the last two nights are about. Has Bulgaria come in against us?
_October 2nd._
A beautiful cool summer day, but flies still swarming about. Artillery
very busy on our side. In afternoon walk up with Stewart to Brigade
H.Q. Beautiful country walk through gorse, little hills and dales,
trees and olive groves. On arrival at Brigade H.Q. and looking back,
the scene is beautiful, with the bay shimmering in the sun and the
Fleet and transports lying at anchor. The formidable hills in front
look beautiful also, and hardly a rifle shot comes from the Turkish
lines. But all the time our shore batteries and the ships are booming
away, but feebly replied to by the Turks. On the way up we just miss
coming under the beastly 5·9 shrapnel. We stay to tea with Hadow, the
Staff Captain, now Major, and after have a nice walk back. Arriving
on the promontory, we see them shelling the road that we have passed
along. We find on our return that the beaches had been “strafed” again
by high explosives, killing and wounding a few.
_October 3rd._
A quiet, beautiful Sunday morning, the sea like glass. I have lunch
with McDougall half-way up the high ground of the promontory, outside
his dugout, right behind large boulders of stone. He provides us an
excellent lunch, and we might be on holiday together. No firing of any
kind. After lunch, however, shore batteries and ships get active, while
the distant rumble of guns is heard from Helles. At four we have our
daily ration of the 5·9 shrapnel or “Whistling Rufus.”
We move our Supply depot up to the foot of the gully at the head of
which is IX Corps H.Q.
_October 4th._
Heavy Turkish bombardment takes place at nine o’clock this morning over
Anzac, developing towards Chocolate Hill. At ten, rifle fire starts,
denoting a Turkish attack, but in half an hour it dies away, the
Turks having been beaten off. During this time we are shelled by high
explosives, and remaining in our dugouts, as we hear each shell coming
over our way we cannot help gently ducking our heads. It is instinct,
but yet very funny. We must look like nodding Chinese idols.
In the afternoon we have 9-inch shells thrown over to us, but it only
lasts half an hour. Go up to Brigade H.Q.; not much firing in front.
_October 5th._
A beautiful summer day again. Turks shell us from 8 a.m. till 10
a.m., but all duds. No news, and no prospect of any progress in this
campaign. Our aeroplanes up.
At 9.30 a.m. the Turks begin and are very busy all day with their
shells. Our batteries do not reply much, and the battleships are
practically silent all day. We have no shrapnel, though, but at four
o’clock about a dozen 9-inch high explosives come over, and rather too
near us to be pleasant. One shell pitched right in one of my battalion
dumps, the 1st London, just arrived from Malta, and attached to our
Brigade. We are therefore moving them to a safer place.
In our camp now we have the two Supply Sections of the 86th and
88th Brigades and representatives of each regiment in the Brigades,
consisting of a Quartermaster or his sergeant, and a corporal and
three privates. They look after the interests of their respective
regiments on the beach, drawing supplies, ordnance, R.E. stores,
letters, and baggage, which they escort up to the regiment each night
by the mule-carts. New officers arriving and officers returning from
hospital use our camp as a half-way house to the trenches. All drafts
arriving are met by these battalions’ representatives and “looked
after” generally by day and guided to their units by night.
Had a lovely bathe this morning with McDougall, Tooth, Carver, and Way
at the foot of the cliffs. Very peaceful and beautiful, and it was
hard to realize that there was a war on. In the far distance, across
the Gulf of Saros could just be discerned the coast of Bulgaria, the
country on which the eyes of all the world are turned at the moment. In
a day or two we shall know whether she has joined our enemies or not.
_October 6th._
Woke up at seven by a shell whistling over our dugout, but no more
follow. Curious how, when one is sleepy, shells do not strike fear in
one. A perfect summer morning. Artillery on our side very active. Go on
board _Swiftsure_ for lunch with Carver. Guest of Fleet-Surgeon Jeans,
a charming little man. Had a glass of beer! And the lunch! Nice white
tablecloth, attentive stewards, excellent food, and cheery society.
Topping fellows. Half an hour after lunch have a “pukka” hot bath. The
luxury thereof! And then take snapshots of the ship and of a group of
officers. We get a good view of Suvla from the deck: the sandy beach,
and to the left the three landing-places, crowded with lighters,
launches, etc., and with khaki figures. Further to the left, the rocky
part with its fringe of surf, and the frowning crags above towering
away in masses into the blue distance. Behind the landing-places the
ground slopes abruptly up to the gorges, crowded with dugouts and
transport lines. To the right, Lala Baba with its sandy cliffs and the
low plateau beyond, with the Salt Lake, stand out clearly. Further to
the right one catches a glimpse of “C” Beach, with its white hospital
tents along the sea’s rim, and in the offing, silent and slim, loom
the three hospital ships taking in their freight of broken humanity.
There are never less than three such ships of mercy here, which gives
one some idea of the daily human wastage, when one remembers that they
are big P. & O. and B. I. liners. We are told by one of the Gunnery
Lieutenants that at 4 p.m. ship is going to fire on a blockhouse just
by the Pimple, on the left of our line. While on board, the ship’s guns
“loose” off. It is a curious sensation. We watch their shells bursting
inland, and realize for the first time the difference between shelling
and being shelled. Get back on smart pinnace at 2.30. Get shelled a
bit at 3.30. Go up to British H.Q. to watch the Pimple bombardment.
At four precisely _Swiftsure_ poops off with 12-inch and 6-inch guns.
Also _Prince George_ and a Monitor, and the shore batteries. Up the
Gulf of Saros a torpedo-boat destroyer and Monitor are firing in flank.
Poor old Pimple! Can’t see it for dust and smoke. _Prince George_
has a premature burst, splinters doing ducks and drakes across the
bay. Hear machine guns at five. Cease fire at six, and we go back
home. The little coves at end of point are now absolutely altered
from their original geographical formation by the Engineers during
the past months. Breakwaters, piers, dugout offices, stores depots,
landing-stages, etc., have come into being, and they are now hives of
industry, never slacking night and day. As at Helles, star shells sail
up and down gently all night along our line. In the darkness of the sky
over Sari Bair, the reflection of the rays of Chanak searchlight plays,
but not so brightly as seen from Helles.
_October 7th._
Ships firing very early this morning. _Swiftsure_ left last night.
Soon after ten this morning Turkish 8·2 gun opens fire on the _Prince
George_, and at the third shot hit her. _Prince George_ and the other
ship open fire. Later the _Prince George_ is hit again, this time just
beneath the funnels, causing wreckage among boats. She alters her
position, the duel still continuing. She is hit twice again, and then
moves further out. Turkish gun then shuts up. Soon after 11 a.m. the
5·9 shrapnel comes whistling over to us, and nine of them, one after
the other, at short intervals of two or three minutes, burst over our
camp and the beaches, causing casualties. A beautiful summer day again,
but flies as bad as ever.
I walk with Way to Brigade, his Brigade H.Q. having moved just in front
of ours. As we go up we hear a whopping big shell go over to the beach,
and looking back, we see it burst, kicking up a great deal of dust.
Have tea with Thomson and General Percival. Afterwards call in at 88th,
and walk back at dark. A bullet hits a bush at Way’s feet just as we
are walking over the little bit of hillock after leaving 88th H.Q.
A few others drop near by. Way tells me that when bullets are about
his head always feels ten times as big as it really is. Yet he never
worries at all when shells are about. It is curious, but shells make me
feel very uneasy and limp, while bullets don’t bother me at all now.
The ways of nerves are difficult to understand. When we arrive back we
find that the beaches have been strafed a lot in our absence.
_9 p.m._
A bit of a strafe is taking place at Anzac, heavy rifle fire and shells
bursting. Very fine sight, seeing the white flashes of flame bursting
out of the black night.
_October 8th._
All to-day there have been ceaseless artillery duels, warships and
shore batteries taking part. Never before have we had such shelling
from the Turks at Suvla. It has been one continual roar of guns from
early morning till dusk. At last, dusk arrives, which is welcomed with
general thanksgiving by the majority on the beach. News has just come
in that Bulgaria and Russia are practically at war, and this means
that in a few days Bulgaria will be an active enemy of ourselves as
well. The Bulgars no doubt will join the Turks at once, and life on the
beaches will become a hell in the true sense of the word. I hope that
we shall keep our end up and not be ignominiously defeated on this
Peninsula. There have been about sixty casualties to-day, killed and
wounded. Yet the work on the beach has to go steadily on all the time.
It has been much colder to-day, and some rain has fallen. At night we
have very heavy rain.
_October 9th._
A cool summer day. Shelled at 9.30 p.m. Troops arrive in large numbers.
They should have arrived last night at dark, but it was too rough to
land. Lord Howard de Walden comes down with news that drafts have
arrived unexpectedly for us as well, and we have to prepare for them.
Cannot reconcile the arrival of all these troops with the opinion that
we are here for the winter. Looks as if we are going to have another
battle. Turks very quiet this morning, yet they must see all these
troops arriving. We wonder that they do not shell them.
Go up to 86th and 88th Brigades with Way in the afternoon, and it makes
a very pleasant walk. Delightful country, and up at the Brigades it
seems quite restful after the shelled beaches. Pass General de Lisle on
the way up. Have tea at 86th, and call at 88th on the way back. General
Cayley had a narrow squeak, a splinter of the case of shrapnel coming
right through the roof of his dugout, just missing his head by inches.
He won’t have his roof sand-bagged. Water question for our Division now
settled, as we have found wells all over the place.
Just as it is getting dusk 8·2 Turkish gun opens fire on H.M.S.
_Glory_, but does not hit her, and _Prince George_ replies. Walker
arrives from Helles. I am now O.C. the 29th Division A.S.C. at Suvla,
as Carver has gone back to Helles. Large coveys of birds—I think they
are duck and crane—keep on swooping about over the Peninsula, and our
Tommies pot at them now and again.
_October 10th._
Colder this morning—but flies still damnable. Usual artillery duels,
but not so heavy as usual. Several officers leaving to join Allied
troops at Salonica. But later we hear that they have not been allowed
to land, as it is uncertain whether Greece is coming in against us.
Not much shelling all day. Colonel Ekin, 1st London, arrives at night
and we put him up, giving him dinner and a bed in our dugout. Very
decent old boy. He comes along with the most wonderful rumours, which
we drink in.
_October 11th._
Very cloudy. Mule Corps at end of promontory get shelled at ten o’clock
for half an hour. Starts to rain at 11.30, and looks as if it is going
to set in in earnest. Salt Lake already under water in some parts,
and if we have a season of rain, it will be a lake in the full sense
of the word, and it will be difficult getting supplies, etc., to the
lines immediately in front of Chocolate Hill. Walked up with Way again
to Brigade H.Q. Beautiful cool, sunny afternoon after the rain. Had
tea with the General at 88th, meeting there our friend of last night,
Colonel Ekin. Morris, Machine Gun Officer, also there in great form,
telling us all about his indirect gun-fire stunts. Hides his little
batteries in a very clever way with gorse, the men wearing green masks.
Colonel Fuller, going round the trenches the other day, could not make
out where the sound of a machine gun popping off quite close to him
was coming from. He was ten yards away only; it was one of Morris’s
efforts. After the bit of a bombardment the other day on the Pimple,
during which the Turks were driven out of a redoubt, Morris’s men
bagged fifty Turks by indirect fire. He makes your flesh creep by the
cold-blooded way in which he describes his stunts, but if one thinks of
Turks as partridges it is not so bad. However, we can do with dozens
more Morrises.
After, go on to see 86th and have a rag with little Reid, Signal
Officer to 86th, aged nineteen, but looks only sixteen.
Trenches dug through most beautiful country—olive groves, fig-trees,
and vineyards. Grape season over now, but often Tommy climbed out
of his trench and helped himself, risking Turkish bullets fired at
only a hundred yards away. The blackberry season is now on, and they
are so tempting that venturesome spirits—little Reid himself proving
guilty—climb out after these also.
Looking back from the 86th Brigade H.Q., one can see the gorse-covered
hills, the beautiful, thickly wooded valleys, while through the trees
are peeps of Suvla Bay with the grey warships at anchor there. Further
out, beautiful Imbros stands out sharp against the setting sun, backed
by a sky of golden-bronze, with feathery purple clouds trailing across
the firmament; the new moon—a delicate crystal crescent—swings above,
dimly reflected in the dimpling waters.
A battleship flashes out, followed by a loud report, and looking
towards Anafarta, just over the hills, one sees a monster flash of fire
followed by a muffled report.
_October 12th._
Very busy with shelling this morning. Quite a lot of 5·9 shrapnel
coming over to our valley, and almost every shell accounts for a
casualty. About twenty casualties in half an hour, Sir Randolph Baker
being amongst the number, but he was only wounded slightly; and a
rather nice Naval Landing Officer had a piece taken out of his arm.
Also we had a few 4·7 shells over, and at noon they started with their
8·2—a terrifying shell.
Every one this morning very depressed at the news of the advance of
Germans on Serbia and Bulgaria’s attitude. Greece and Roumania are
disappointing factors. I hope for the sake of this Gallipoli campaign
that they come in on our side.
After lunch I go up to the Barrier on the rise of ground on the west
road leading to Lone Tree Gully, just two hundred yards this side,
to see about some bombs which have to be removed. On the way back,
the 18-pounder battery which is in position on the right of the road
looking seaward is in action, and the report of the guns, being so
near, is ear-splitting. I turn round to watch the shrapnel, beautifully
placed on and about the Turkish second line. Evidently the officer
in the O.P. has spotted some movement of the troops up communication
trench. Probably a relief party.
[Illustration: 4·5 HOWITZER IN ACTION, SUVLA BAY.]
[Illustration: 29TH DIVISIONAL HEADQUARTERS, SUVLA BAY, HIDDEN FROM THE
ENEMY BY THE SLOPE OF THE HILL.]
I turn to my left and trip down the rocky hillock leading to the C.R.E.
camp, in the place where D.H.Q. was to be after the Chocolate Hill
battle, and where the bombs from the Barrier have to go.