ANZAC
FIRST WEEK OF TRENCH WORK--OUR NEAR NEIGHBOURS--SNIPING--BOMBS AND
AEROPLANES--SIR IAN HAMILTON'S SPECIAL FORCE ORDER--THE "PENINSULA
PRESS"--TO BURY THE DEAD TURKS--VENIZELOS--"WHERE STANDS GREECE?"--THE
"LUSITANIA" CRIME--SWIMMING IN THE ÆGEAN--THE ROAR OF ARTILLERY--DEATH
OF COLONEL BRAUND, M.L.A.
We've had our first week in the trenches. The Turks have killed some of
us, and we have killed some of them. They certainly fared the worst;
and we agree with the chaplains that it is more blessed to give than to
receive.
In some places our trenches are only seven yards from the Turks; in
others they are 700. All day and night the sniping continues. Hand
grenades and bombs are thrown to and fro. Aeroplanes circle aloft
and drop bombs on the opposing trenches. When our aeroplane goes up
the boys yell out: "Lay an egg on the Turkeys!" When the Taube drops
bombs we "duck" to shelter. Most of our spare time we spend in dodging
shrapnel. It's fine fun, but no one can guess where the splinters will
fly to. We've all had the sorrow of seeing old comrades struck down at
our sides, and yet we carry on cheerfully.
On Empire Day--five days after we landed--the Turks asked for an
armistice to bury their dead. It took eight hours. In front of our
trenches were 3,500 dead. We reckon that in the attack on our position
on May 18-19 the enemy had at least 10,000 casualties. The Australians
lost about 500. Time and again the Turks charged in solid phalanx, but
withered away before the deadly fire of our riflemen. Whenever they did
effect a breach they were speedily ejected by dashing bayonet attacks
by the Australians and New Zealanders.
To-day--May 28--we are all in the highest spirits, for we have received
a special "Force Order" from General Sir Ian Hamilton, and it shows
that we have not been idle. Here is the order:--
"FORCE ORDER NO. 17.
"General Headquarters,
"_May 25, 1915_.
"1. Now that a clear month has passed since the Mediterranean
Expeditionary Force began its night and day fighting with the
enemy, the General Commanding desires to explain to officers,
non-commissioned officers and men the real significance of the calls
made upon them to risk their lives, apparently for nothing better than
to gain a few yards of uncultivated land.
"2. A comparatively small body of the finest troops in the world,
French and British, have effected a lodgment close to the heart of
a great continental empire, still formidable even in its decadence.
Here they stand firm, or slowly advance, and in the efforts made by
successive Turkish armies to dislodge them the rotten Government at
Constantinople is gradually wearing itself out. The facts and figures
upon which this conclusion is based have been checked and verified
from a variety of sources. Agents of neutral powers possessing good
sources of information have placed both the numbers and the losses of
the enemy much higher than they are set forth here, but the General
Commanding prefers to be on the safe side and to give his troops a
strictly conservative estimate.
"Before operations began the strength of the defenders of the
Dardanelles was:--
"Gallipoli Peninsula, 34,000 and about 100 guns.
"Asiatic side of Straits, 41,000.
"All the troops on the Gallipoli Peninsula and fifty per cent of the
troops on the Asiatic side were Nizam, that is to say, regular first
line troops. They were transferable, and were actually transferred
to the side upon which the invaders disembarked. Our Expeditionary
Force effected its landing, it will be seen, in the face of an enemy
superior not only to the covering parties which got ashore the first
day, but superior actually to the total strength at our disposal. By
May 12 the Turkish army of occupation had been defeated in several
engagements, and would have been at the end of their resources had
they not meanwhile received reinforcements of 20,000 infantry and
twenty-one batteries of Field Artillery.
"Still the Expeditionary Force held its own, and more than held its
own, inflicting fresh bloody defeats upon the new-comers; and again
the Turks must certainly have given way had not a second reinforcement
reached the Peninsula from Constantinople and Smyrna, amounting at the
lowest estimate to 24,000 men.
"3. From what has been said it will be understood that the
Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, supported by its gallant comrades
of the Fleet, but with constantly diminishing effectives, has held in
check or wrested ground from some 120,000 Turkish troops elaborately
entrenched and supported by a powerful artillery.
"The enemy has now few more Nizam troops at his disposal and not many
Redif or second-class troops. Up to date his casualties are 55,000,
and again, in giving this figure, the General Commanding has preferred
to err on the side of low estimates.
"Daily we make progress, and whenever the reinforcements close at hand
begin to put in an appearance, the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force
will press forward with a fresh impulse to accomplish the greatest
Imperial task ever entrusted to an army.
"W. P. BRAITHWAITE, Major-General,
"Chief of General Staff,
"Mediterranean Expeditionary Force."
And I have by me a copy of the little one-page _Peninsula Press_
published at Sir Ian Hamilton's headquarters some distance from Anzac.
It is No. 13, and is dated May 25, 1915; and it gives this "Official
Account" of the enemy's losses:--"The burial of the dead on the
Australian and New Zealand front was completed yesterday under the
armistice asked for by the Turks. The number of the enemy's dead lying
between the trenches was estimated at 3,500, counting only those who
have fallen since May 18. Rifle fire broke out soon after the close of
the armistice."
That _Peninsula Press_, little thing though it was, used to be read
and re-read till we could almost repeat all its contents word for
word. It gave us the war news on all fronts in a nutshell. In this
particular number we read of the great Russian victory in East Galicia,
when the Austrians were pushed back from the Dniester to the Pruth,
and on a 100-mile battle-front the Russians took 20,000 prisoners in
five days. We read of von Bethmann-Hollweg's threat to Italy--his
threat to punish Germany's "faithless ally" who had seen fit to
throw over the Powers of Darkness for those of Light and Freedom and
Civilization. We read of the German losses between Steenstraete and
Ypres, despite their use of asphyxiating gas which their enlightened
scientists had been able to place at their disposal. We read this:
"The British Navy has rescued 1,282 German seamen and marines from
German warships sunk. Not one British seaman or marine has been saved
by Germans in like circumstances." We read an extract from the Greek
newspaper _Athinai_ relating to the elections in that country: "If
the people give the victory to the party of M. Venizelos, then the
Entente Powers will have no further anxiety concerning us; Greece will
be ready for war in accordance with the programme of M. Venizelos and
with the engagements he has assumed." (And the people did give the
victory to M. Venizelos--but Greece, oh, where was she?) And this also
we read in our paper: "The people of Gallipoli Town," says a Turkish
correspondent, "have seen only four British (Australian) prisoners of
war. The men excited great admiration among the people, because it
was seen that they were indeed soldiers. They wandered about freely
and drank coffee, creating great excitement by their queer remarks
and causing no ill-feeling." And the _Lusitania_! We read the lines
from _Punch_ of May 12--Britain to America, on the sinking of the
_Lusitania_:
In silence you have looked on felon blows,
On butcher's work of which the waste lands reek;
Now, in God's name, from Whom your greatness flows,
Sister, will you not speak?
We ourselves had seen a ship go down. We saw the _Triumph_ torpedoed.
We saw her shiver from stem to stern--and then go down in the sea. She
was a triumph of man's handiwork, and man's handiwork had destroyed
her. The sea was very calm, but submarines and mines lurk in still
waters as well as rough--and out of the calm sea came the thing of
death. From the moment she was struck till she turned turtle but
fourteen minutes elapsed. A dozen launches and torpedo boats rushed
to rescue the crew, and all were saved except about forty. And we who
saw it all from the trenches looked on at it stupefied. With a mighty
lurch--as it were a giant in the agonies of death--the _Triumph_ heeled
over and was gone.
Such things are done, and will be done, as long as there are Hymns of
Hate in the world. War is a gruesome business.
Just as I walked out of my dug-out this morning two men were shot by a
machine-gun not ten yards off--one in the shoulder and the other in the
eye. Two seconds ago a big shrapnel shell burst right in front of our
dug-out. The bullets flew everywhere, and we bolted to shelter. No one
was injured. It is marvellous. Up to the present it has been the most
wonderful week in my life--full of excitement and hair-breadth escapes.
Sunday came--May 30. The day dawned peacefully, minus the artillery
duel which ordinarily heralds the coming day. The blue Mediterranean
lay like a sea of glass at our feet. Imbros Island, opposite Anzac
Cove, lay wreathed in the morning mists. Torpedo boats glided to and
fro across the waters, lest some adventurous submarine should attack.
All was peaceful. Ashore, the wild flowers blossomed on the hillsides.
Birds chirruped contentedly in the scrub. Soldiers released from a
night's vigil in the trenches sauntered along the winding road to the
beach, dived in and sported freely in the sea. The transport mules
munched contentedly, and the Indians lay back smoking hubble-bubbles.
Light Horsemen (minus their horses) and infantrymen emerged from their
dug-outs and stretched themselves lazily in the sun.
It was too good to last--too good altogether. Some activity behind the
Turkish trenches attracted the attention of our artillery observation
officers, and our guns boomed out a warning. It was evidently
disregarded by the enemy, for more of our guns opened fire. Then the
Turks replied. The hills around spat fire, and the valleys echoed and
re-echoed with peals of thunder. Shrapnel shells and "Jack Johnsons"
went screaming overhead, to burst with a deafening report over our
trenches and bivouacs. Our guns were so cunningly concealed that the
German artillery officers could not locate them, and for the most part
their shells ploughed up the unoffending earth, or made harmless rents
in the atmosphere. Our artillery had better success. Our guns tore down
the Turkish trenches, and the Turks flying to shelter were met with a
devastating fire from our machine-guns. Still, we did not have it all
our own way. Now and then a shell landed in our trenches, and the story
of it was told in the casualty lists.
About one o'clock the artillery duel began, and it continued without
cessation for over an hour. The roar was awful. Bullets spattered
everywhere. The marvel was that our losses were so few. Gradually
the big guns grew silent. Our warships aimed a few salvos on to the
enemy's position, then drew off. Soon there was comparative calm. There
remained but the interminable fusillade of musketry which never wholly
ceased on the trenches round Anzac.
At eventide the Ægean Sea took on new colourings. The sun set in a
blaze of splendour; the whole western horizon was alight with its
reflected brilliance. The islands seemed to rest against a superb
canvas on which Nature had splashed lavishly a wealth of gold and
rose-red and saffron and purple and amethyst. The sea in turn mirrored
and accentuated the beauties of the scene. The angry armies gazed in
quiet contemplation of Nature's craftsmanship, forgetting their mutual
hate.
Up on Braund's Hill--where Colonel Braund, who used to sit for
Armidale in the New South Wales Parliament, had met with a tragic
fate soon after the historic landing was made--right at the entrance
to the trenches in the firing-line, Divine Service was being held.
In the days of my wanderings I have attended many church services,
in shearing-sheds and on mining fields, on board troopships, and in
the bush; but never had I attended such a service as this. Captain
McKenzie, of the 1st Infantry Brigade, and Captain Robertson, of the
2nd Light Horse, were the officiating chaplains. Soldiers, unkempt,
unshaven, unwashed, lolled around on the path or the hillside.
Men coming from the trenches joined in the singing. Men going to
the trenches for the night lingered awhile. And they sang the old
well-known hymns. None asked for "Onward, Christian Soldiers," or any
of the warlike hymns at all. They wanted the old gospel hymns. So we
sang, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," "Sweet Hour of Prayer," and "Abide
with Me." ...
Firing had recommenced before we finished the service, and the
chaplain's voice was now and then drowned in the rattle of musketry
or the bursting of shrapnel. And because of the shells and bombs
which continually burst overhead, we meant it when we sang "Cover my
defenceless head with the shadow of Thy wing."
A few words of prayer, a few words of exhortation and commendation,
and then the service was over. Some filed off to the trenches for the
vigil of the night. Others formed up for the reserves. The rest of us
returned to our dug-outs, to snuggle in while the roar of battle raged
overhead. And one soon gets used to the battle noises. I fell asleep
thinking of dear old New South Wales, my dear old home, and--my dear
old mother.