THE SECOND DIVISION
The Second Division of the Australian Infantry consisted of the
twelve Battalions of the Third Contingent, numbered from Seventeen
to Twenty-eight. Their passage from Australia to Egypt had been less
eventful than that of the pioneers, and their training in Egypt had
been conducted on the same lines as that of their predecessors. They
landed at Anzac in August and September, and found their portion
in three months of dogged endurance of the most trying methods of
warfare.
The Turks were emboldened by the failure of the great offensive
movement, and proved more enterprising than at any time since the
first month's occupation of Anzac. The whole area was ranged by
their artillery, posted on all the commanding positions in the
neighbourhood, and there were many of these. The forts at Chanak
shelled them morning and evening; so regular was the visitation that
they were given the titles Sunrise and Sunset. Ceaseless mining was
going on against them; and they were driven to retort in kind.
There was little glory waiting for the Second Division on the
shores of Gallipoli, but an immense amount of danger and cumulative
suffering. The losses of the 5th, 6th and 7th Brigades through those
late autumn months are eloquent of the everlasting risks they had
to take. From Lone Pine to Hill 60 their line was constantly being
shelled by the heavy guns on Battleship Hill and elsewhere; while
Beachy Bill and his equivalents made the beach a place of death and
danger.
By this time the very ground of Anzac was reeking with infection. The
theory has been advanced that, as upon the battlefields of Flanders,
the germs lay in the subsoil ready to contaminate when turned up by
the entrenching tool. The dangers of tetanus on the Western front
were quickly grasped, and by scientific research a means of fighting
them was soon at the disposal of the R.A.M.C. But in Gallipoli
the epidemics of sickness were not so readily countered, and the
suffering and loss was proportionately greater.
Whether the soil of Gallipoli held the germs of old disease in its
bosom, or whether, as appears more probable, it became infected
through the conditions that prevailed there during the spring
and summer of the year, it is at least certain that it was most
insanitary during the autumn months. The swarms of flies, that no
human agency could abate, spread the seeds of disease far and wide.
Men suffered from an acute form of dysentery that was the more
dangerous because it was intermittent. The water supply was
insufficient, and water for washing could only be obtained from the
sea. The sickly odour of the whole place rose in the nostrils of the
fighting men, and afflicted them with a perpetual nausea. All food
was suspect, for the flies, that buzzed perpetually over the rotting
carrion that lay unburied between the lines, swarmed upon everything,
and could not be prevented.
Strong men conceived a loathing of their food. The bully beef that
was their staple was thrown away by many of them, who could not even
abide to look upon it. They tried to live upon the hard biscuits, and
on these many of them broke their teeth, so that there was nothing
they could find to preserve their strength.
Many who lived through those last months have told me of the awful
lassitude that fell upon them. The sickly weather, the hopeless day's
work, the atmosphere of death and disease that permeated all their
surroundings, combined to sap their vigour.
The constant shelling drove them to live underground and to carry
on a troglodytic warfare. Mines and countermines, sapping and
tunnelling, formed their daily occupations. The losses from the
heavy shellfire were considerable. Hardly a day passed but some
section of trench was filled up, and often men were buried in the
debris, never more to draw a living breath.
One experience related to me by a man who took part in the sufferings
of those days will always remain in my memory. He was posted at Lone
Pine, a post which the Anzacs held stubbornly in the face of the
shelling it daily received from all points of the compass. One day
he went forward with some of his comrades to an observation trench,
in order to place the battery on the Asiatic shore, which was daily
moved from place to place by means of a motor running on light rails.
In spite of the warnings of those with him, he raised himself high
in order to get a better glimpse of the flashes that resulted from
the sunset bombardment, when a "Jack Johnson" arrived and buried all
in the trench. He had the notes of his observations, and smothered
as he was by a load of earth, was able to take comfort from the
thought that he would quickly be disinterred, if only because these
observations were precious.
The expected help came in time for him, and for him only. He was dug
out before he suffocated, and then learned that he owed his life to
the daring that had raised him so high in the trench. Those with him,
who had taken full advantage of the cover it afforded, were buried
under tons of earth, and were doubtless crushed to death in the
instant of the explosion.
Between the lines, from north to south, stretched a no-man's land
that was constantly changing in character. Beneath it tunnels were
continually being made, and the men at their work with pick and spade
in the darkness could hear the enemy also tunnelling in to meet them.
Then there would come a day when contact between the two opposing
works would be made, and a lively encounter underground would follow.
Sometimes one of these Anzac drives underground would come
unexpectedly upon a great series of enemy works. Very often they
were found unoccupied, and an adventurous exploration would follow.
The almost inevitable result would be an encounter with the enemy,
perhaps at a distance from their own supports, and at a disadvantage
in numbers.
Or perhaps tunnels would be driven out in a parallel direction
from the ends of a section of trench toward the enemy's line. When
a certain distance had been reached, the miners would turn their
tunnels at right angles, so that two converging tunnels could be dug.
When the ends had been joined, the roof would be stripped away, and
one morning the enemy would find a deep firing trench established
within a few yards of their lines.
A furious bomb fight would be the inevitable sequel to such a
manœuvre. In this form of warfare the Anzacs had become very expert,
for when the conditions of Gallipoli fighting had once been grasped,
bomb practice became an essential part of their training. At all
times in those last months they outfought the Turks in these bomb
contests, using the weapons with more accuracy and skill, and
resisting attacks with more grit and determination.
It is now possible, also, to mention the work done by the artillery
from Australia and New Zealand. While the British forces remained
in Gallipoli, it would obviously have been improper to mention the
positions taken by the batteries, and the remarkable skill and
coolness with which the Anzacs fought their guns. But much of the
success achieved by the men of Anzac in holding positions that were
dominated by an enemy in superior force was due to the great work of
the artillery.
Miracles were achieved in getting big guns up those hills, and in
retaining them in positions on the very firing line. Such exposed
positions as Lone Pine were only held because of the protection
of guns so placed, and throughout their occupation of Anzac, and
especially during the months that followed the failure of the great
advance, the Anzacs had daily reason to thank the gunners.
[Illustration: Australian Guns in Action before Sari Bair.]
So they fought on week after week, aware of the constantly increasing
supplies of munitions that were flowing to the enemy, which could be
inferred from the increasing freedom with which shells were used. In
July the Turk had shown himself economical of shells, and had used
much ammunition of very ancient and inferior description. At that
time not more than thirty per cent. of the big shells that fell on
Anzac would explode, and some very old ammunition was employed by the
big guns in the forts of Kilid Bahr.
The most curious of these were round shells that must have been fired
from guns of the muzzle-loading type. They weighed about a hundred
pounds, according to the accounts I have had of them, and were known
as "footballs" or "plum-puddings." They announced their coming by a
singing noise, like the loud song of a bird, and were plain to be
seen as they hurtled through the air. Some of them exploded with a
dull roar, breaking into thick chunks of iron. But the majority of
them did not explode at all. They were much in demand as curios, and
many a dug-out was decorated with one of these unexploded "footballs."
But as the last quarter of the year wore on, there was no more need
for Abdul to use this old-fashioned ammunition. A plentiful supply of
good shrapnel and high explosive was at his service, and the shells
that continuously fell among the devoted men of Anzac were warranted
to explode, with only too deadly effect.
Late autumn brought tropical showers of rain, that flooded the
trenches and dug-outs and added to the miseries of the Australians
and New Zealanders. The Turks, on higher ground, had the better
of them there, but not of the heavy fall of snow which came at
the beginning of December. I have been assured by men who had the
opportunity of conversing with many prisoners that the Turkish army,
though well equipped in some respects, was not provided with any of
the necessities to comfort and health. Saving the officers, there
did not appear to be a blanket among them, and they fought and slept
in this cold weather without any more covering than the greatcoats
of their original outfit, by this time badly worn by the rough usage
they had received.
The prisoners complained, too, of lack of food, and of the fearful
sanitary arrangements in their trenches. So that the very cold
weather, though a mixed blessing, did nevertheless serve the Anzacs
by its dispiriting influence upon the Turk.
For the ravages of disease among the Anzacs, severe as they were,
were at least mitigated by sanitary arrangements, and by wholesome
food and good clothing. But the Turk was subject to the same causes
of disease, intensified by the lack of care that was displayed for
the Turkish fighting man. It is certain, then, that though a tough
defending force, the Turks who defended Sari Bair in December, 1915,
were greatly dispirited, and naturally lacking in the initiative to
seize any advantage that might come their way.
This circumstance may serve to explain to some extent the miracle
of the successful withdrawal which it is now my task to record.
The skilful plans made for this operation, and the boldness and
thoroughness with which they were executed, are not in any way
depreciated when it is said that the full measure of their success
could only have been achieved in the face of an enemy content to
defend, and tired of the punishment which any attempt at offensive
warfare had always involved him at the hands of the men of Anzac.
THE LAST OF ANZAC