making up accounts, and visits to the Main Supply depot. It is an
extraordinary thing, but almost every time I stroll over to the Supply
depot from our office on the cliff, over comes a shell either from a
howitzer on Achi or “Quick Dick” from Asia. I prefer the howitzer. It
gives you a chance to quickly look round for the nearest dugout and
dive in. Whereas “Quick Dick,” with its boom-whizz-bang, is on you
before you can count two, and leaves you almost gasping, wondering
that you are still standing alive instead of flying through the air
in little bits. Each day victims are claimed. I thought my Q.M.S.
had “got it proper” to-day, but I saw him do a marvellous head-dive
behind a mound, protecting dug-in stables, which saved him. It makes
everybody living on the beach very bad-tempered. At night they drop
them over at intervals. But we are one too many for Asia by night. One
can distinctly see the flash of the gun and can count twenty-three
slowly before the shell arrives. The French are very clever over
dodging these night shells from Asia. A man perched up on a stack of
hay watches Asia intently. He sees a flash, blows loudly on a trumpet,
and everybody gets to cover like rabbits. Result: remarkably few
casualties. Of course, the flash of the gun does not tell whether the
shell is addressed to “V” Beach or “W” Beach, and one cannot fail to at
times be amused, in spite of the grimness of it all, for the lookout
man on “V” Beach might see the flash and give a mighty blast on his
trumpet, whereupon all rush for cover, and twenty-three seconds later
the shell swishes over, not to “V” Beach at all, but to “W” Beach. The
Turkish gunners appear to have their tails very much up, no doubt
through the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac. And enemy airmen are very
daring, swooping right over our lines and at times dropping an odd bomb
or two. Men and transport move about as freely as ever, though, which
is such a contrast to Suvla; though, of course, our line being further
inland than it was at Suvla, the enemy have difficulty in reaching the
transport with shrapnel. If not, probably our transport would not be
so reckless. The roads at the foot of the cliff can no longer be used,
having been made impassable by being washed right away in parts.
_December 24th._
It is delightful weather and we continue our life, preparing the
figures and accounts to draw the rations at night, and arranging for
their issue. Usual shelling all day. In the afternoon, as I walk across
the plateau to D.H.Q., an enemy aeroplane comes swooping over. I am
near a party of men marching and hear the pop-pop of a machine gun.
Almost immediately after, I hear the swish of bullets and see them kick
up the dust round about. At first I can’t make it out. Then it dawns on
me that the daring aviator is actually firing on the troops near me. I
notice that instead of having a cross painted on his machine he has a
square, which is the sign of the Bulgarian Flying Corps.
I go back to tea with Farquhar in his lines, dug in trenches on the
cliff-side over Corps H.Q., situated further round the cliff from our
dugouts. As we are at tea, four enemy machines sweep over to “W” Beach,
and shortly after I hear the sound of dropping bombs as they circle
round and round. Our anti-aircraft guns (not plentiful) endeavour
to bring them down, but they circle round unconcerned, and having
discharged about thirty bombs, swing round and make back for their
lines, keeping out to sea off the coast.
I get back to the beach and find that their bombs have caused many
casualties. To my great sorrow I learn that Cox, of the Essex, has been
hit clean with one, and also a friend of the same regiment, both being
killed instantly. They had come down from the rest camp to purchase
some luxuries for the canteen for Christmas Day. After sticking it all
this time to be killed like this, just two weeks before the time when
the Division is to be relieved for good, is really far worse luck than
met Algy Wood, of the same regiment. And now there are no more of the
original Essex officers left.
It has been rough to-day, especially at Imbros, which has a very
exposed harbour, and in consequence it has been possible to issue only
a very small percentage of fresh meat. It is bad luck, for to-morrow
is Christmas Day, and I should like to have given the Division a full
issue of fresh meat. However, a consignment of Christmas puddings has
arrived from Lady Hamilton’s Fund and will be issued. We were promised
many other luxuries, such as oranges and other fruits, but these have
not arrived, owing to the difficulty of transport by sea. And so, for
the majority of the men of the Division and all troops inshore, bully
beef will take the place of the customary roast beef and turkey.
_December 25th._
It is very beautiful weather. We do the best we can for the troops in
the way of supplies, but it has to be bully beef and Christmas puddings
for their dinners. The Turks are unusually quiet. I believe they know
that it is our Christmas Day. We have a Christmas dinner in our dugout
and a very cheery time. One of the cheeriest Christmas dinners I have
ever had. Parcels from home pooled helped to make a good spread, and
one can make excellent rissoles from bully beef.
_December 26th, 27th, 28th, and 29th._
Visits to Brigade and to D.H.Q. and journeys to and from our dugout
office and Main Supply depot are the order of the day. Usual shelling,
far more trying than any we have ever experienced before. Enemy
aeroplanes now and again try to come over, but are driven back by our
planes. Cold but fine.
We have to send in an estimate of transport required to cart baggage
back from battalions to beaches. This no doubt means we are off
shortly. I hope so, as I am getting fed-up with this Diary. But it
seems strange to be making plans to get off again, when we have only
just arrived back.
_December 30th._
To-day we hear the news secretly that we are evacuating Helles
altogether. They are having a conference at Corps H.Q. this morning on
the plans. I am sent for by the Engineer officer in charge of works
on the beach, and he questions me closely on the plans that were
followed at the last evacuation. But I can tell him little or nothing
beyond what I personally observed. I am afraid that we shall not be
able to get away supplies and stores so easily as we were able to at
Suvla, and quantities will have to be left. For the beaches are under
close observation from Yen-i-Shehr and Kum Kale, and now that we have
already hoodwinked them once, the second evacuation will have to be
done very carefully. Therefore our only chance of getting away stores
is by night, and animals, guns, and personnel must come first. The
first thing, therefore, is to get up forward supplies in sufficient
quantities to last out the remaining days, and I receive orders to get
these up for the 87th and 88th Brigades, for again we are to be last
off.
I expected this second evacuation. Nearly everybody expected it. We
have been told that IX Corps would relieve VIII Corps, but to those of
us who experienced the Suvla storm, the idea of hanging on here after
Suvla and Anzac had been evacuated was impossible to consider. But this
evacuation we think will be a very different matter, with the Turks
expecting us to endeavour to make it. Transport will be the difficulty
during these last few days, but fortunately the tramway comes in handy
to-night in getting up rations to the 86th and 88th Brigades, and we
manage successfully. We draw the rations from the Main Supply depot
in bulk, apportion them out to units, and load them on the trucks on
the line in the centre of the depot itself. Mules then pull them to
the slope, down which they run of their own accord to the plateau with
men acting as brakesmen. Those trucks which have to be pulled further
inland are pulled by mules up a line which runs still nearer to the
trenches. The rations are off-loaded on arrival at their destination,
and man-handled over their remaining journey. By this means much more
horse transport is cut out, which can in a few days be evacuated. But
before then this transport must be used solely in getting back surplus
kit. We put up the first batch of the reserve supplies.
An arduous night, and we get to bed in the small hours of the morning.
All day we had intervals of howitzers from Achi and Asia’s shells. Not
much longer now, thank God!
_December 31st._
The last day of a damnable year. Honours in favour of the enemy. Luck
all against us. But our turn will come before another year is out. In
the morning the Turks heavily shell our front line reserve areas; and
D.H.Q., of course, being only just in rear, get it badly. All day the
beaches suffer. Life on the beaches is like a game of musical chairs.
Instead of sitting down on a chair when the music stops, you promptly
fling yourself behind cover when a shell arrives. I am a perfect
tumbler now, and after the war will give exhibitions of the many
different antics that one performs when dodging shells. A New Year’s
dinner, as cheery as the Christmas dinner, but broken by visits to the
Main Supply depot to send off the rations by tram, and then to bed.
JANUARY 1916
_January 1st._
To-day is New Year’s Day. At this time last year this Peninsula was as
peaceful a part of the world as one could find in any neutral country,
though its rulers were allies of our chief enemies. To-day, a year
after, we are nearing the fall of the curtain on the final act of one
of the greatest tragedies of history. The curtain of the first act
was rung up on a scene beautiful and romantic in its setting eight
months ago, which changed, as the play developed, to scenes of gallant
endeavour and Death in all his nakedness. The final act, the tragic
last scene of defeat without disgrace, is full of sadness, and the
great audience, although held spellbound watching and waiting, will be
full of relief when the curtain drops for good.
It is strange to think, as I walk about once more on “W” Beach, that
Suvla and Anzac no longer harbour British ships or house British
troops, and that Turks now walk about unmolested in our late trenches
and shelter themselves at night in our late dugouts. In a few days now
Turks will be sitting in the place in which I am writing these notes.
They are welcome, for our attempts to open their gates have failed.
We have lost the game, but we have not been beaten by the Turks. They
are no match for our troops. We have been beaten by Nature, or the
geographical fastnesses of this impregnable Peninsula and the storms of
winter. The new year is heralded in on “W” Beach by the shells of a big
howitzer on the left shoulder of Achi Baba bursting with a deafening
crash on the high ground of the beach, throwing large jagged splinters
within a radius of two hundred yards. When such a shell bursts, all
within that radius drop flat to earth or dive into a dugout. I am sure
that people living further inland or in the trenches, if they have not
lived on the beach, do not realize the great strain on the nerves that
work under steady, effective shell fire is on this beach, cooped up as
we are in such a small space, which is all a target, not to say the
chief target, of the Turkish gunners.
The 29th A.S.C. men are sticking it well. I think they guess that we
are evacuating, and are therefore cheery. Issuing by day, as in the
early days, is now out of the question. We issue at dusk, and even
then in danger of a shell in our depot. But the A.S.C., or the “Army
Safety Corps” as it is termed by many in France, must never cease doing
its job, for a man in the front line is hungry three times a day. As
S.S.O., my job now is to see that the four Supply Officers’ indents are
satisfied in full, namely the Supply Officers of the 86th, 87th, 88th
Brigades and the Divisional Artillery. I must get the food ready at
our depot for the night’s issue for each group, out of which the four
S.O.’s must see that their troops and animals get their full ration.
Their respective jobs are far more trying than is mine now, for the
difficulties of getting the supplies from the beach to the troops have
increased a hundredfold.
The Main Supply depot is still in the same spot as in the days of
May, and there they must see that my indents are satisfied. Now they
are drawing on their reserve, and, as in the case of the evacuation
of Suvla, they are issuing from the inside of the large stacks of
supplies, for to the Turk these stacks must not appear to grow smaller.
The outside walls must be kept standing, and when the time comes the
depot officers will set them ablaze with hay and petrol, and long
before the Turk can reach the beaches they should be raging furnaces.
The Main Supply depot office is still in the same place as of old,
built out of supply boxes. Several times it has been blown down by a
Turkish shell, and why it has not been shifted I cannot think. More
shells are bursting daily round this depot during these days than burst
in a week of June on the whole of “W” Beach. If the Turks then had had
half the artillery that they have now, I do not think that we would
be here to-day. Smart, the depot Supply Officer, who was wounded in
August and who is now back sitting in the same old place, holds up his
ruler to me this morning, the same ruler which was the stakes of the
bet I had with him in the early days, that Achi Baba would be taken by
June 30th, and says with a smile, “This ruler is still mine, and Achi
Baba still belongs to Turkey.” Outside, Achi Baba looks more forbidding
than ever, like the head of a huge vulture waiting to spring.
Howitzer shells are dropping along the road, and as I want to go up to
86th and 88th Brigade H.Q. with Horne, we go along the cliff’s edge by
the Greek camp, still in the same place. The two Brigade H.Q. are in a
delightful spot, dug in on the side of the cliff just this side of “X”
Beach. I have a chat with General Williams and Sinclair Thompson. I
enjoy going there. It is absolutely off the target, though, as things
are now, one would think that there could be no spot on this tiny tip
of land where one could live at all for long. Back for lunch. At three
o’clock we are shelled badly in our quarter by howitzers from the hill
and by Asia’s “Quick Dick,” which is on you before one can duck almost.
General Birdwood has been here and had a look round. As before
mentioned, the 29th are to be last. It is rather a lot to ask of the
86th and 88th after that storm and the strain of one evacuation, but
it shows G.H.Q. put a great value on us. Up to midnight I am at the
Main Supply depot drawing the remainder of reserve supplies for six
days for the Division, which are being put up in Leith Walk and Clapham
Junction respectively for the 87th and 88th Brigades. As in the case
of the evacuation at Suvla, the 86th Brigade leave shortly. Officers
and men on “W” Beach are falling sick fast, with the continual strain
of shelling, and in view of the evacuation are being sent off at once.
There are one or two cases of men losing their reason.
_January 2nd._
The sea was very rough last night, and in consequence the evacuation
was very much delayed. We are now being subjected to very severe
shelling. From three o’clock yesterday to nine o’clock this morning
three howitzers, two from behind Krithia and one on the right shoulder
of Achi, have been throwing big high explosive shells over to us on
the beaches steadily. This is the severest spell on record, and it is
evident that they are expecting us to go soon and are making it as
hard as possible. Afterwards we were shelled in jerks to midday. At
seven o’clock to-night Horne and I go up to Krithia Nullah or Clapham
Junction. It is very dark, and the road is pockmarked with shell-holes.
I miss the familiar landmark of the white pillars. I remember now that
they told me while I was at Suvla that they had been demolished by our
Engineers. We have a forward reserve dump at Clapham Junction, which we
start eating into to-morrow. 88th Brigade H.Q. is just near by, dug-in
in trenches, and on calling there we are invited to dinner. We have a
Christmas pudding, which is brought in alight with brandy. It seems
strange following this old custom in a dugout, with bullets zipping
over outside and within eight hundred yards of the Turks.
Coming out of the dugout on to the road, I notice bullets flying about
much freer than usual, the Turks being more energetic over their
practice of firing their rifles at night than they ever were before.
All the time, as we walk back, we hear the Turkish howitzers sending
over their consignment of high explosives to “W” Beach. After ten
minutes’ walk we hear a shell coming bang at us, firing at a battery
close by; but it is a small dud, and it goes “fut” into the ground.
As we approach nearer and nearer to “W” Beach we hear their “hows”
whining away overhead. They sound so harmless, and seem to take quite
a time sailing through the air, but the sound of them crashing on the
beach rather inclines us to slacken our pace. On approaching the Main
Supply depot, however, we quicken our pace, and passing through it,
arrive at the wood-stacks, when we hear one of their whiners sailing
over. Quickly we duck behind the wood as it bursts short of the Supply
depot. We get up and walk briskly to our dugout, and just as we descend
the steps on the cliff-side we hear another. We dive into Hyslop’s
dugout precipitously as it bursts with a crash forty yards behind us.
Afterwards a pinnace alongside No. 1 Pier is afire, set ablaze by a
direct hit from a shell. Bed, and we go to sleep hearing the shells
explode in various parts of the beach at short intervals. Fortunately
these shells do not reach the water’s edge and cannot impede the final
stage of the evacuation. It is only Asia that upsets this.
_January 3rd._
Some of the staff of the Main Supply depot have now left. Last night
some animals, including the A.T. cart-mules, were evacuated. They
are led, coaxed, and whipped on to the lighters from the piers. The
lighters are then towed out to the waiting ships, which have come in
under the cover of darkness, and the animals are slung on board. It
is strenuous work for those detailed for the job, especially with a
heavy swell. The personnel are sent off from “V” Beach, and they do
not waste time hanging about the open spaces of the beach, but make
for the cover of the _River Clyde_ and the fort as soon as possible.
The man with the trumpet is kept busy giving warning against Asia’s
shells. Weakly men are being hurried off. Surplus kit, office records,
also. Forward reserves of ammunition are being placed in the Eski
Lines, which run across the Peninsula, and each man and machine gun
has a reserve of small ammunition. Also a reserve is kept on the
beaches. On the last day our Division will have about three thousand
men left. We start eating into our seven days’ forward reserves to-day.
The Egyptian shepherds, who provided meat for the Drabis of the Mule
Corps, with their sheep, have left to-day. The casualties from shell
fire are becoming more and more frequent on the beaches now. The
86th Brigade leave to-night, and the balance of those men who were
prevented from getting off by the rough sea of last night. In fact,
many men had to leave by daylight this morning, risking the Turks’
observation. The French try a very clever ruse by lighting a stack of
hay, which, smouldering only, causes heavy columns of smoke to drift
over Sed-el-Bahr and away out over the Straits, which enables them to
ship quite a lot of animals under its screen in broad daylight. Enemy
aeroplanes are busy trying to get over to the beaches all day, but
are successfully kept at bay by our anti-aircraft guns and aeroplane
patrols. A strong wind is blowing from the north-east, and it looks
like a change in the weather, causing anxiety to us all. As usual, all
to-day and continuing to-night, the beaches and their approaches have
been heavily shelled. Our Monitors have been energetically replying.
_January 4th._
This morning we have intermittent shelling, in twos and threes and in
fits and starts. Just before lunch, while standing at the door of our
dugout on the top of the cliff, I see a destroyer come right in shore,
and swinging round quickly, she anchors. I see a group of Naval and
Military officers on deck, who climb down the companion into a pinnace,
which takes them to No. 1 Pier. I turn my glasses on to them and see
that the party consists of General Birdwood, the Army Commander, an
Admiral, two Naval and two Army officers. They slowly walk along the
pier, and I cannot help feeling anxious for them, for Asia has put one
of her beauties close to No. 1 Pier a short while before. They turn to
the left and walk along the road at the foot of the cliffs. Just as
they are passing immediately beneath our “bivvy,” two howitzer shells
burst with a deafening report on the beach. General Birdwood never
turns his head, but I notice that the two other officers following
behind look anxiously over their shoulders. They go up to VIII Corps
H.Q., and after lunch a conference is held. Afterwards General Birdwood
sends over to the Mule-cart Corps on the high ground between “W” and
“V” Beach for an old Native officer whom he has known for many years in
India. He is a fine old man, and a splendid type of the loyal Native
soldier. Of course, he was overcome with delight at meeting the General
once more, who told him to assure all the Native drivers and their
N.C.O.’s with the Mule Corps that our evacuation was a strategical
move, made for the best, and not in any way to be interpreted as a
disaster. The Native mind is so different from our own, and though they
are as loyal as any of our troops, one feels anxious to prevent them
from losing their confidence.
As a result of the conference, the progress of the stages of the
evacuation must be speeded up. Personnel and animals must at all costs
be dealt with first, and as the sands are running low, it will now be
necessary to begin evacuating animals by day and risk the shelling.
This morning the sea has been dead calm and perfect for our purpose,
but the Navy say that they expect a southerly gale. We, of course,
dread a southerly gale. It is a very trying and anxious time, and
the shelling is now almost continuous. Certainly only a few guns are
turned on to the beaches, but sufficient to upset and impede our work.
Six shells may come over from the howitzers on Achi at ten, three
from Asia at eleven, four from Achi at 11.30, then from twelve to one
probably twenty from Achi and Asia, all on to the camps and depots in
the confined space of “W” Beach. All the while casualties occur. As a
contrast, the evacuations of Suvla and Anzac were child’s play to that
of Helles. The Monitors are busily replying, and I think cause their
guns to stop now and again. All the afternoon the beach gets shelled.
Asia now and again puts some very nasty ones near our bivouac, and
once we all had to take cover in two tunnels in the side of the cliff
to our left, where they have been quarrying for stone. At 8 p.m. a
gale springs up and the embarkation is greatly hampered. They found
it impossible to embark the mules on the transport when the lighters
arrived alongside. One lighter, loaded with mules, carts, and drivers,
breaks away and quickly goes drifting out to sea towards Asia, becoming
lost in the darkness of the night. All night we get shelled every
quarter of an hour.
_January 5th._
It is very windy and the sea rough, yet the evacuation of animals
proceeds by day as well as by night, regardless of whether we are seen
or not. But a large number of animals will, I am afraid, have to be
left, and in consequence be killed on the last day. I do not know which
day “Z” day is, but I hear that it has been postponed in consequence
of the rough sea. The shelling is as bad as ever on the beaches. Now,
in addition to guns on Achi and on the Asiatic side opposite Morto Bay,
a four-gun Turkish battery comes into position by Kum Kale and manages
to reach the water’s edge of “W” Beach and “V” Beach with shrapnel, but
a Monitor, quickly getting on to it, very soon silences it. No enemy
gun can ever be in position on this point for long.
Asia gives us a bad time in the afternoon and puts some nasty ones
near our bivouac, and again we have to take refuge in the tunnel.
Monitors are busy bombarding Achi, and a cruiser with an aeroplane up
spotting for her is hard at work trying to find the Asiatic gun. Enemy
aeroplanes as usual make persevering endeavours to come over “W” Beach,
but each time are driven off by our airmen. Our anti-aircraft guns
never hit anything. The enemy aircraft now try to fly over “W” Beach
by approaching it from the sea, and many an exciting chase and duel
is daily witnessed between our planes and theirs, ours always holding
mastery of the air.
The sea is getting calmer, and at night an odd shell comes over at
intervals of half an hour or so. The lighter loaded with the mules
and their drivers which broke adrift yesterday owing to the rough sea
drifted fortunately on to Rabbit Islands, and her freight was picked up
by a Monitor.
_January 6th._
A lovely calm morning. The shelling has quietened down considerably. I
think the Monitors have been frightening the Turkish gunners somewhat.
Also Asia is not worrying us, thank God! and yesterday’s bombardment
from the cruiser has probably done a lot of good. The sea is like
glass, and the conditions are perfect for evacuation. The same policy
is being followed in getting the last troops off on “Z” night as was
followed at Suvla, but quantities of material, ordnance, and R.E.
stores will have to be left. The reserve ammunition in the keeps on the
beaches on the last night will be blown up just before we leave.