GALLIPOLI
(_May 1915_)
Gallipoli! Who in Lancashire, in England, before the year 1915, knew
where or what it was, or had even heard the name? Bitter was the
dispelling of ignorance; hard indeed the road that led to knowledge! A
name of death, of affliction, of suffering almost too heavy to be borne;
but also a name of heroism and endurance and of high endeavour. A name of
Failure, but no less of Glory.
More than 14,000 Lancashire Territorials—bronzed, clear-eyed, _trained_
men now—put forth from Egypt in the first days of May 1915, upon the
second stage of the Great Adventure, bound for the Ægean Sea, the very
source and well-spring of adventure, whose shores and islands were the
playgrounds of heroes. As the transports steamed northward into the
Ægean, some, perhaps, had visions of a parade across the peninsula, an
astonished enemy falling back before them in disorder, and a triumphant
procession into Constantinople. The glamour of that romantic city laid
hold of the imagination of others, who pictured a victorious entry after
some weeks or months of hard fighting, and the loss of good comrades.
The majority, however, had a better, if still rather vague, idea of the
difficulties of the task that confronted them, for most had heard by now
of the enemy’s preparedness and of the reception that had been given to
the 29th Division, the Anzacs, and the French, and of the awful losses
sustained before a precarious footing had been gained.
So, while the Division is at sea, let us review very briefly the position
on the peninsula of Gallipoli. After a naval bombardment on February
15, which only served as a threat and warning to the enemy, a naval
attempt on March 18 to force the Straits failed disastrously, though it
certainly attained one of its objects—that of relieving the pressure
upon the Russians. But as the large Turkish forces withdrawn from the
Caucasus were employed upon the defence of Gallipoli and the Straits,
the result was that the hitherto undefended peninsula was converted
into an impregnable position against the now expected attack. Artillery
was mounted to cover every approach, and barbed wire entanglements were
concealed in the shallows and placed on shore—wire compared with which
the British article was as thread.
On April 25 General Sir Ian Hamilton’s army landed, the 29th Division at
various beaches of the southern extremity of the peninsula, around Cape
Tekke, Cape Helles, and the village of Sedd-el-Bahr, and the Anzacs on
the western shore a dozen miles to the north, just beyond the headland
of Gaba Tepe. The loss incurred had been appalling. The marvel was that
the feat had been accomplished. History records no grander achievement,
no more inspiring example of heroism. Surely men who could achieve the
impossible as these had done could go anywhere or do anything! They could
indeed do what men can do, but there were no reserves to fill the huge
gaps, and the important gains made so gallantly and at so terrible a cost
had to be abandoned by the fragments of what had once been battalions
and companies. The story of Gallipoli might have been very different
had General Hamilton been granted the support of the East Lancashire
Division a week earlier. On April 30 the 86th Brigade (the four Fusilier
battalions) of the 29th Division could only muster 36 officers and 1830
men out of a normal strength of 104 officers and 4000 men, the 1st
Lancashire Fusiliers being reduced to 11 officers and 399 men.
The finest troops of Turkey made desperate efforts, with a courage and
enthusiasm that won the admiration of the British, to complete the
destruction of the invading force or to drive it into the sea. With equal
determination British, Anzacs, and French held on to their dearly-won
foothold, and made desperate counter-attacks to improve their position.
On May 1 the Indian Brigade under Brig.-General Cox arrived from Egypt.
On May 5-6 the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade, with No. 2 Section Signal
Company and the 2nd Transport and Supply Company, disembarked at “W”
and “V” Beaches, across the blood-drenched hulk of the River Clyde, and
were temporarily attached to the 29th Division. Vehicles and animals
were slung into the lighters, and though it was their first experience
the men did their job well. The A.S.C. mules had been supplied from the
49th Reserve Park a few hours before embarking at Alexandria, and were
therefore unknown to their drivers, who deserve credit for bringing them
safely ashore. As the cable-wagons could not be landed each man of the
Signal Section took as much equipment as he could carry.
Had stimulus been needed to inspire the men from Bury, Rochdale and
Salford, here was their inspiration. They had set foot ashore close to
the spot made world-famous as “Lancashire Landing” a few days earlier
by the 1st Battalion of their own Regiment, with whom they were now
privileged to act. “So strong,” wrote Sir Ian Hamilton, in his first
despatch on the Gallipoli landing, “were the defences of ‘W’ Beach that
the Turks may well have considered them impregnable; and it is my firm
conviction that no finer feat of arms has ever been achieved by the
British soldier—or any other soldier—than the storming of these trenches
from open boats, by the 1st Lancashire Fusiliers.” Within a few hours of
landing the Territorial Brigade was in action, and at the close of two
days’ severe fighting it had a casualty list of 673. The first battalion
to disembark, the 6th Lancashire Fusiliers, took over trenches from the
K.O.S.B. at dusk, on the extreme left of the British line, between Gully
Ravine and the Ægean Sea. The remainder of the Brigade marched during the
night, reaching a point above Gully Beach at daybreak on May 6.
[Illustration: ACHI BABA FROM HIGH GROUND ABOVE “LANCASHIRE LANDING.”]
[Illustration: MORTO BAY AND ENTRANCE TO THE NARROWS.]
[Sidenote: _The First Battle—May 6, 1915_]
A general advance of the whole line, stretching right across the
peninsula, from a point about three miles north of Tekke Burnu on the
left to a point about one mile north of De Tott’s Battery on the right,
was ordered for 10 a.m. that morning. The 6th L.F. gained more than 400
yards before being held up by heavy fire from rifles and machine guns.
This was the greatest advance made by any unit that day, and the ground
won was held. The 7th were in support of the 6th. One company of the
8th reinforced the extreme left; another company supported the left of
the 88th Brigade on the right of the Gully Ravine. This ravine, about
fifty yards wide, with steep cliffs forty to sixty feet high, formed a
dangerous gap in the line, and during the night its bed was occupied by
another company of the 8th. Under cover of night the trenches, having
been cleared of dead and dying, were deepened and improved.
The attempt to continue the advance next morning was not successful. The
5th L.F. deployed and passed through the 6th in the front line, the rest
of the Brigade being in support, to press home the attack. The Brigade’s
objective was a point about a mile to the north of the furthest point
reached by British troops throughout the campaign. Some parties of the
5th gained a little ground, but they were enfiladed, the intensity of
the fire drove them back, and the line remained unaltered. A renewal
of the attack in the afternoon, when the Brigade was reinforced by two
battalions of the 87th Brigade, also failed. At sundown the Brigade
was relieved, and the Lancashire Fusiliers rested on the cliffs until
the following evening, when they were moved to a less exposed bivouac
further inland, among the trees near Morto Bay. The Territorials had
been severely tested and had stood it well. They had been thrust at once
into the fighting line because they were badly needed. When they landed
the position of the depleted 29th Division was precarious. The men were
exhausted, for there is a limit to human endurance, and that limit had
almost been reached. It was vital, if they were not to be driven into the
sea by force of numbers, that an advance should be made and less exposed
positions secured; and the arrival of the Territorial Brigade had enabled
the worn-out Regulars to attain this object. No. 2 Section Signal Company
had done good work. For two days their tasks had been done in the open,
under continuous fire, all lines having been laid on the surface by hand.
By some blunder or misunderstanding on the part of the Naval Authorities
most of the transports conveying the remainder of the Division were
sent northwards up the coast to Gaba Tepe, instead of to Cape Helles.
The first to arrive, the _Derflinger_ with the 5th and 6th Manchesters
on board, was chased by a destroyer and brought back with all speed to
Helles, where these two battalions disembarked on the evening of May 6
at “W” and “V” beaches. The 7th and 8th Manchesters landed on the same
beaches on the following day under shell fire, which caused several
casualties. The Manchester Brigade assembled on the cliffs between the
beaches before moving inland to the rendezvous known as Shrapnel Valley.
The other transports, including the _Crispin_ with Headquarters on board,
arrived off Gaba Tepe on May 8, and anchored there for the night. In the
morning Major-General Douglas, failing to obtain a reply to his ship’s
signals, visited the Senior Naval Transport Officer on board H.M.S.
_Queen_, and the transports were soon steaming southwards, Headquarters
disembarking at “W” beach in the afternoon of May 9.
The disembarkation of the Division was practically completed on the 11th,
though two companies of the 10th Manchesters and one of the 5th East
Lancashires, when about to follow their comrades ashore, were carried
off by the naval authorities for some unexplained reason, and were not
landed until the 14th. The medical and surgical equipment of the 3rd
Field Ambulance was also lost in the same way, and was not recovered for
a fortnight. The 5th Battery, R.F.A., and two guns of the 6th Battery
had been landed, when orders were received that, as the area occupied by
the British was so small, sufficient space would not be available for
the batteries, so the Artillery must return to Egypt. It was, however,
decided to allow the guns which had already been brought ashore to
remain. Lieut.-Colonel Birtwistle, commanding the 1st Brigade, R.F.A.,
had gone ashore with the 5th Battery, and he was placed in charge of a
sub-group of Australian and New Zealand batteries. The mortification of
the other batteries was intense, but after four more months in Egypt
they again sighted Cape Helles, and this time were allowed to land. For
the same reason—congestion on the occupied territory—the 1st, 3rd and
4th Companies, A.S.C., with the exception of the Supply personnel, were
ordered back to Egypt.
The vagaries of the naval transport authorities which had sent some
of the transports on a tour along the coast were not regarded as an
unmitigated evil by those of the wanderers upon whom responsibility
weighed less heavily, for they were given the opportunity to survey the
scene of operations from various angles, from Tekke Burnu to Fisherman’s
Hut beyond the headland of Gaba Tepe, where lay the Anzacs, and from
Cape Helles to Morto Bay and the entrance to the Straits. They witnessed
the bombardment of the enemy’s positions from sea and land; and some,
with good glasses, were able to follow the movements of the Lancashire
Fusiliers during the heavy fighting of the 6th and 7th of May, and could
actually see them move forward to attack, their bayonets flashing in the
sun, and concentrate on certain points when the advance was held up. On
the right the French Colonial troops were seen, carrying all before them
with their usual dash, only, alas! to be driven back a few hours later.
They passed close to the mighty _Queen Elizabeth_, that embodiment
of concentrated sea-power which—as many anticipated—had proved so
comparatively ineffective against an enemy on land, though the big naval
shells which burst in and around Krithia Village threw up clouds of dust
and smoke and debris seventy feet in height. There also were the French
men-of-war and the “Packet of Woodbines,” as the five-funnel Russian
cruiser _Askold_ was termed.
[Illustration: GALLIPOLI PENINSULA
_Lc.-Corp. J. Mort, R.E. (T.)_]
[Sidenote: _The Landing at Helles_]
That the landing on open beaches, exposed to chance firing from the
Turkish front, and presenting a visible target to batteries at Kum Kale
on the Asiatic shore, was accomplished quickly and almost without loss
was due to the fine spirit shown by all ranks. The disembarkation was by
no means a simple affair. It contrasted strangely with the embarkation
at Alexandria, where the troop-trains ran alongside the steamers, and
the docks were equipped with all loading facilities. At Cape Helles the
transports anchored at varying distances from the shore, and the troops
were transferred to steam-tugs and trawlers, each carrying about 500 men
to the makeshift piers of trestles or old barges, or to the jetty formed
by the stranded _River Clyde_ on “V” Beach. Horses and mules were slung
overboard and lowered into lighters. The ground swell increased the
difficulties and dangers.
As the men scrambled into the tugs many began to realize that they
were now confronting the biggest thing that had yet entered into their
lives. They joked and chaffed one another, and smoked their pipes, as if
crossing to the Isle of Man, while the thunder of the heavy guns echoed
against the cliffs. They were not yet “heroes,” and few of them had yet
been tested by fire; and if, to steady their nerves and conceal from
their comrades—and from themselves—the anxieties and doubts that would
not be denied, they made fun of the ordeal that lay before them, all
honour to them!
Each boatload was welcomed by a Landing Officer, whose one idea was,
naturally enough, to get men and baggage clear of his “pier” and beach
in order to make room for the next batch and prevent the short stretch
of foreshore from becoming hopelessly blocked. The strip of firm sand
at the water’s edge soon changed to loose sand and shingle, which
sloped gradually to the foot of the cliffs, about 150 to 200 yards from
highwater mark. The cliffs rose abruptly to the height of fifty to sixty
feet, except in the centre of the bays, where higher ground was reached
by rough winding tracks. From the top of the cliffs a view of Achi Baba
was obtained—a sight interesting enough, and even exciting, at first, but
the interest soon palled and gave place to detestation. The top was no
place to linger upon, for its occupants were plainly visible to the Turk
in front, as well as to the Turk in Asia. Low scrub and grass covered it;
beyond, the ground dipped slightly before it began to rise nearly 600
feet to the summit of Achi Baba, about six miles to the north-east. It
was mainly uncultivated ground, though a certain amount of young grain
afforded good grazing for the horses while it lasted, and there were one
or two small vineyards more than a mile inland, the young grapes from
these being made into delectable puddings later by enterprising A.S.C.
officers. The only trees near the Helles beaches were small groups of
wind-swept firs and a few limes, but further inland, near the nullahs,
and away on the right, in the French area around Morto Bay, more foliage
could be seen. There were many wild flowers, including a lovely pink
cistus, wild thyme and very fine wild roses; and here and there the vivid
red of a patch of poppies relieved the general impression of green.
For nearly two miles inland this ground formed a narrow, congested
bivouac for troops newly landed or in reserve, and a rest camp for those
which had suffered heavily. Corps Headquarters, ordnance, supplies,
hospital tents, transport vehicles, and long lines of picketed horses and
mules, covered large expanses. At first men lay in twos and threes in
small natural hollows, in coffin-shaped holes hastily dug to the depth
of two or three feet, or in wide shallow trenches which provided some
little cover for men lying down. Later, oilsheets were used to cover
these trenches as a protection from the sun by day and the cold at night.
The difference in temperature was keenly felt by men who had passed
the preceding seven months in Egypt. Indeed, on the first night ashore
officers and men, unable to sleep because of the cold, stamped backwards
and forwards until tired, then huddled together until forced to take
violent exercise again. The dawn was exquisite as the first rays of the
sun touched the snow-tipped mountains to the east, but few were in the
mood to appreciate it. What was then asked of the sun was warmth, not
beauty.
Very little protection from shell fire was to be found on the peninsula
owing to the nature of the ground, to the position of the allied armies
between the guns of Achi Baba and the batteries of the Asiatic shore, and
to the entire absence of material for revetting trenches and constructing
shelters and dug-outs. Wood and other material could only be brought
from Egypt or Mudros in small quantities—small as compared with the
vast amount required—and even these seldom found their way beyond the
beaches, and sandbags during the first months were as precious almost as
drinking-water. Moreover, there was no time for work on defences, and no
men were available. The cliffs themselves provided shelter from shell
fire from the north, but none from “Asiatic Annie,” the heavy gun (or
rather guns) which shelled “W” and “V” Beaches continuously from various
points along Erenkoi Bay east of Kum Kale, inflicting many casualties and
much damage.
Into this too-crowded, unprotected area the Turk consistently pitched
his high-explosive shells, and the ear-splitting crash and “coal-box”
effect greeted the Territorials on arrival and gave them their first
impression of real warfare. It was amazing that the casualty list was
not far heavier. Had the enemy at this period been in possession of
more and better ammunition the position in Gallipoli would have been
untenable. Owing to this shortage in these early days solitary wagons
and pack-animals could be moved about freely by day behind the lines,
within view and range (with open sights) of the guns on the slopes of
Achi Baba; for the Turk rarely wasted a shell on the chance of destroying
one man or horse, and, by extending to a distance of 400 yards, even a
battalion transport could often go forward and backward unmolested by
day. The incessant rifle fire at night made the area immediately behind
the front lines more dangerous then than by day.
[Sidenote: _The Nullahs_]
Farther away to the north the British front was intersected by three
streams, or, except during and immediately after rain, three more or
less dry beds of streams, running north-east to south-west. The largest
of these was Gully Ravine (Saghir Dere) close to and parallel with
the western coast, emptying into Gully Beach about two miles north of
Lancashire Landing. The Krithia Nullah (Kirte Dere) began near Krithia
Village, and intersected the centre of the British area for a distance of
three miles, then, a mile north of “V” Beach, turned to the south-east
and emptied into Morto Bay. The third, Achi Baba Nullah (Maltepe Dere)
ran parallel to, and from 500 to 1000 yards to the east of the Krithia
Nullah, and it also debouched into Morto Bay. No nullah emptied into “W”
or “V” Beach, and none intersected the high ground adjacent to those
beaches. As the one road in the occupied territory, the Krithia Road,
was registered, and in full view of the Turks, these gullies formed
the only concealed approaches from the bivouacs and rest camps to the
front line. The congestion of these “main streets” made traffic slow and
laborious. Normally the approach would be along the bed of a tortuous
stream, showing here and there a trickle of water, and at one spot in the
Krithia Nullah even a small bathing-pool; but the sight of driftwood and
debris deposited six feet and more above the bed-level gave warning to
the observant. Disastrous experience soon showed that a few hours’ heavy
rain could convert these nullahs into raging and devastating torrents;
and when the spate subsided channels of deep mud would be left, with here
and there a quagmire into which mules and horses sank.
That one may have too much of a good thing while suffering from a
lack of it may be a paradox, but there were times when it was true
enough in Gallipoli. Water there was below the surface, to hinder the
construction of deep trenches, in which men might stand or sit or walk
without offering their heads and bodies as targets to the sniper; there
was at times water in exuberant excess to wash away stores, equipment,
and even trenches and dug-outs; but clean water was more precious than
wine. There were one or two derelict farms which had wells, but the
demand was so great that the supply soon gave out. Unfortunately no steps
had been taken to protect wells from pollution when the area was first
occupied, but afterwards a guard was placed over them, and the water
chlorinated before issue, through fear of contamination. A small supply
for the brewing of tea was obtained by digging a hole in the trench,
below the parados, and placing therein an old biscuit tin with perforated
bottom. In this way a little water could be collected—and every pint
was treasure. As there were many of our own and the enemy dead lying
out in the open, and also latrines in the immediate neighbourhood, it
is a great tribute to the value of chlorination and typhoid inoculation
that men drank this water with impunity. The normal trickle through the
Krithia Nullah provided water for washing but not for drinking, as the
stream flowed through the Turkish lines into ours, and was very dirty. A
few springs of good water were found in the banks of the nullah, and one
of these never failed to supply about 100 gallons an hour. Later, new
wells were dug, a gang of well-sinkers, chosen from men of the mining
districts, doing useful work. Some of the best of these wells were sunk
on the side of a precipitous cliff at Shrapnel Point, near Gurkha Bluff,
within a stone’s throw of, but fifty feet above, the sea.
Before the Division landed there had been little attempt at sanitation;
there were not nearly enough men for fighting purposes, and no one had
time to worry about such things until too late. The flies had then
arrived.
The southern point of the peninsula had been very sparsely inhabited.
There were two villages, Sedd-el-Bahr, between “V” Beach and Morto Bay,
and Krithia, below the slopes of Achi Baba. Elsewhere a few isolated
buildings remained, and arches of an ancient aqueduct which had formerly
brought water to Sedd-el-Bahr, still stood. But the inhabitants of the
nullahs had not fled. Who that heard them will ever forget the frogs of
the nullahs at night? A vivid memory of this will remain when things of
more importance are forgotten. The average Lancashire man had read that
frogs croak, and had accepted the statement tolerantly, as we acquiesce
when told that, in spite of appearances, Sirius is really larger than
the moon, or that the earth goes round the sun. Now they heard them, and
considered “croak” too feeble and inexpressive a word. Some had perhaps
read Aristophanes, and had assumed that the frogs of sunnier climes might
voice their joys and sorrows less decorously than those which reside in
suburban ponds near Manchester. At first the origin of the noise[3] gave
rise to much conjecture, a popular notion being that the Gurkhas were
responsible. Anything out of the common might be attributed to them. Had
it not been printed in the newspapers that the Gurkhas observed a strange
rite in respect of the shedding of blood whenever they drew their kukris,
to show to the curious stranger or to put a still keener edge on the
blade? And did they not throw these heavy, curved knives at the enemy?
Accepting such statements as facts it was quite simple to believe that
you yourself had seen them do these strange things. So the noise was made
by the Gurkhas, and doubtless some unfortunate Turks were having a most
unpleasant time.
[Sidenote: _The Fauna of Gallipoli_]
Other interesting and unusual fauna were the tortoises, lizards,
tarantulas, and scorpions. The tortoises were decidedly popular, and the
lizards entertaining, but no one loved the others. At a later date some
ammunition was wasted on the flocks of migrating cranes and storks that
flew over in wedge-shaped phalanx, until shooting at them was forbidden.
The number of birds which lived and nested on the peninsula, undeterred
by, and apparently indifferent to, the noise, carnage and destruction
and the presence of armies where men had hitherto been infrequent
visitors, was remarkable. Linnets, goldfinches, turtle-doves, magpies,
jackdaws, and other familiar birds were common. During the summer many
rollers were seen, and were called “parrots” from the brilliance of their
plumage. Black-headed buntings, having yellow plumage, were mistaken for
canaries. Birds of prey abounded, from the griffon vulture seen in May
on the cliffs of Helles to the abundant kestrel. Levantine sheerwaters,
known to the Turks as “the souls of the damned”—a name which gained in
significance as the months passed—flew in flocks round the cape. The
winter brought homely English birds, robins and dunnocks, starlings and
chaffinches, to remind men of home.
Another noise which for a time puzzled the lads from Lancashire was a
weird, penetrating cry heard in the morning and evening. There were
various conjectures as to its origin, but finally the more enlightened
decided that it was the muezin calling the Faithful to prayer.
Having given some idea of the conditions in Gallipoli and the nature of
the country, we return to the narrative of events.
On May 11 the East Lancashire Division was ordered to take over the
whole of the British front line, except that portion held by the Indian
Brigade, which came under the command of General Douglas for a few days.
The line was taken over in the course of the night and of the morning of
the 12th. It was a pitch dark night with heavy rain, and few of those who
took part will forget this first experience.
On the evening of the 12th the Manchester Brigade made a demonstration to
draw attention from an important movement by the Indian Brigade on their
left. The high cliff overlooking the ravine of “Y” Beach was strongly
held by the enemy, and the machine guns of this formidable redoubt formed
an obstacle that must be overcome before further progress could be made.
The feint of the Manchesters served its purpose by distracting attention
from the storming company of the 6th Gurkhas, and so enabling the hardy
little mountaineers to scramble up the cliffs unopposed and rush the
redoubt. They held the Turks at bay while their comrades of the other
three companies swarmed up the rocks and completed the capture of the
position, which received the name of Gurkha Bluff. It was not only a
fine bit of work, but also a success of the greatest value. On the same
evening the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade opened fire to support a forward
movement by French troops on their right.
On May 15 a readjustment of positions was ordered, and on the nights of
May 16-17 and 17-18 the reliefs were carried out. The line of trenches
was now in four sections. That on the left, held by the 29th Division,
including the 29th (Indian) Brigade, ran from the Ægean coast eastward
for 1600 yards to the eastern edge of Fir Tree Wood, 300 yards north-west
of Krithia Nullah. The next section, held by the East Lancashire
Division, extended the line for 1500 yards from the right of the 29th
Division, through the Krithia Nullah to the Achi Baba Nullah, which it
included. The Royal Naval Division’s section continued the line for 700
yards to the Telegraph Line; and the right section, thence to the coast
of the Straits, above the ruin known as “De Tott’s Battery,” about 2100
yards in length, was held by the French Corps Expeditionnaire.
Later this line was termed the Redoubt Line. Saps terminating in T-heads
were run out towards the Turkish trenches, and parties told off at night
to connect the T-heads and dig themselves in, until two new advanced
lines had been made. By the end of May a series of redoubts had been
constructed at intervals along the old front line, and these were
garrisoned in readiness to meet any temporary success of the enemy. The
occasion did not, however, arise. The Manchester Brigade occupied the
first line of the second section, with the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade
on its right, and the East Lancashire Brigade as reserve. It may be
mentioned that at this period the total ammunition available for a
battalion consisted of 200 rounds per man, with twelve boxes of 1000
rounds each in reserve in the firing line, and twelve boxes at Battalion
Headquarters.
During the three weeks after the disembarkation of the Division had
been completed there was little actual fighting, no attack being made
by either side. The arrival of the Territorials had strengthened the
position sufficiently to discourage Turkish hopes of dislodging the
invading force, but no forward movement on a large scale could be
contemplated until the ground recently won had been consolidated and the
difficulties of transport and supplies reduced. As the line stretched
from sea to sea no flanking movement was possible. It was therefore a
case of playing for position for a time. Each infantry brigade in turn
assisted the French, the R.N. Division, and the Indian Brigade to develop
their plans and effect necessary changes, and each in turn relieved the
brigade in the first line.
[Sidenote: _Shelling and Sniping_]
But though there was a lull in the fighting after the 8th of May the
shelling of the trenches, rest camps, cliffs, and beaches never ceased
for long. Even bathing parties[4] suffered from the shelling, and the
Turkish rifles blazed away day and night without cessation, causing much
loss to working-parties and men in bivouac far behind the first line,
and even in the R.A.M.C. tents below the cliffs. At dark one could
hear from the cliffs of Gully Beach the continuous “plop” of bullets
striking the water. There were also casualties from hidden machine guns;
and the courage, enterprise, and skill of the Turkish snipers were the
cause of many fatal wounds. Owing to the shallowness of the average
trench it was difficult even for the most careful and experienced to keep
under cover, and most injuries received at this time were head wounds.
The Turkish snipers hid in the scrub—some carrying camouflage so far as
to paint themselves green—or lay in holes apart from, and generally in
advance of, their trench system; and their patience, persistence, and
ingenuity evoked reluctant tributes from their foemen. Fir Tree Wood was
a happy hunting-ground of the snipers, some of whom had remained in their
hiding-places during our advance, in order to pick our men off at short
range during the night. The Territorials received valuable tips from the
Regulars on the best methods of dealing with snipers, and before long
their numbers, and the losses they inflicted, were kept in check.
[Illustration: BATHING POOL IN KRITHIA NULLAH.]
[Illustration: THE KRITHIA NULLAH.]
[Illustration: EVENING “HATE.”]
During this period the men not in the front lines were kept busy
unloading supplies at the beaches and transporting them to the dumps,
road-making, trench and well digging, and performing many other fatigues.
The sappers, who had landed on the 9th and 10th of May, had their hands
more than full. The 1st Field Company was in bivouac near Morto Bay on
the right, and the 2nd Field Company on the left flank near Pink Farm, a
solitary building which became a famous landmark and rendezvous during
the campaign. They directed the construction of trenches, of lines of
rifle-pits in front of the trenches, of dug-outs, and trench-bridges for
armoured cars, improvements of the rough country tracks, work on wells
and appliances for distribution of drinking water, and the manufacture
of bombs. The digging, deepening, and repairing, and, when material was
available, the strengthening of trenches was a never-ending task, which
had to be performed under fire from artillery, machine guns, and snipers.
The soil was mainly a stiff yellow loam, which stood well unrevetted
until rain came, when it was transformed into peculiarly bad mud, and the
water would not drain away. Gorse and heather, outcroppings of rock, and
in one or two sectors, the tough fir-roots, which interlaced and formed a
network at varying depths, added considerably to the difficulties.
The Field Ambulances on landing had equal difficulties to encounter,
and the way in which they contrived to overcome them and to makeshift
successfully afforded proof of their resource. Dressing stations had to
be made in clefts in the cliffs, with tarpaulin sheets stretched from
boulder to boulder for shelter. The shortage of appliances and equipment
during the first weeks was a serious handicap. As soon as their equipment
arrived they moved up to the rear of the bivouacs in the centre of the
line. The battalion stretcher-bearers had quickly “made good.” They
had had to stand the usual chaff while training, but within a week of
landing they had become “heroes” in the eyes of their comrades. The
Field Ambulances, lacking tackle, had not been able to provide bearers
to evacuate from First-Aid Posts, and the battalion stretcher-bearers
carried the wounded a distance of three miles to the beach.
Practically everything required for the army in Gallipoli had to be
brought from the base at Mudros, the harbour of the Island of Lemnos,
nearly forty miles away. Even water was conveyed overseas to supplement
the inadequate local supply. Rations, ammunition, equipment, and material
of all sorts were transferred from the ships to flat-bottomed lighters
and landed, frequently in rough weather, and generally under fire from
the Asiatic coast. The small A.S.C. unit therefore did not enjoy much
leisure. No. 2 Transport and Supply Company had given evidence of its
efficiency, for, though within ten days after landing it had lost
forty-one animals killed, it was found that they possessed one more than
the original number landed. Many loose mules were straying around, and
the company upheld the rather unenviable reputation of which it boasted
in pre-war days of never passing any unconsidered trifles by.
A Divisional Supply dump had been established on the top of the cliffs
above “W” Beach, and there it remained until the evacuation. Though in a
very exposed position and under daily shell fire it enjoyed a remarkable
immunity. The rations were “man-handled” from the beaches to this dump,
where they were issued to the Regimental Quartermasters, who brought
with them their limbers when they had any, but usually A.S.C. limbers
took rations to the R.Q.M.’s dump, about a mile inland, where they were
divided in proportion to the strength of companies. Here battalion
transport men loaded the pack-animals and led them across country for two
or three miles to Battalion Headquarters, a short distance in the rear of
the trenches, where the stores were unloaded, and the Transport Officer’s
responsibility ended. At Battalion Headquarters a party from each company
in the trenches was waiting to carry the rations to Company Headquarters,
where the C.Q.M.S. issued to the platoon sergeants the share for their
men, and the platoon sergeants in due course divided the articles among
the section commanders.
[Sidenote: _Transport and Rations_]
On paper this simple daily routine is a mere matter of efficient
organization, but in active practice it was something more. The Turk
had a very good idea of the routes to be taken, and as he fired more
vigorously during the night than in the daytime, the transport, whenever
possible, moved up soon after noon while he indulged in his siesta.
Rations had, however, often to be taken up at night, and casualties
among the A.S.C. men and trench ration parties were frequent. None of
the pack-animals had previously been under fire. The load must be packed
with equal weight on either side or it will not reach its destination,
for the mule, though a convinced individualist, has nothing to learn
from the best-organized trade union in the matter of direct action or
the lightning strike. The loads consisted of full boxes and half-filled
boxes of bully-beef tins, tins of biscuits, jars of rum, sacks of loaves,
whole cheeses, tins of jam, bags of tea and sugar, sides of bacon, and
on mail-days bags of letters and parcels. The correct balancing and
securing of such articles, even on a placid, well-trained horse in a
paddock at home, where no more disturbing explosions are to be feared
than those caused by a distant motor-cycle, demands no mean skill and
sense of proportion. But when shells are bursting close at hand, and
mules and horses do their best to prevent the loading and dislodge the
loads, it is a very different affair. When the loading has at last been
accomplished and the animal is asked to move he will probably kick and
buck until the load goes to the winds. Both mules and horses behaved
uncommonly well under fire. On the rough tracks the mule was far steadier
than the horse and could carry an equal weight. He was more particular
about the perfect balance of his load, and would not attempt to carry an
uneven pack.
Having finally completed the packing and persuaded the animals to start
on the journey to Battalion Headquarters the Transport Officer’s troubles
take another turn. He has to find his way in the dark across an open
bullet-swept zone with animals that jib and shy as the shells burst, or
lie down as the fit takes them, and at times succeed in scattering their
packs. These must be collected and laboriously replaced, the driver
meanwhile employing the most spirited and forcible terms of endearment in
his vocabulary. At times the convoy will be held up by heavy shelling of
the area that has to be crossed. Leaving the open they enter one of the
nullahs up and down which hundreds of troops are moving, and progress is
slow and exasperating. But in spite of all obstacles the transport men
daily got the rations through to their comrades in the line. Nor should
a word of gratitude to the Indian drivers of the A.T. carts and the Zion
Mule Corps be omitted. These men gave efficient help in the transport
of stores and material from the beaches to the dumps, and their courage
under fire was admirable. The pride the Indians took in the smart and
clean turn-out of their mules and carts was the more noticeable as they
did not appear to be subject to the ordeal of inspection.
The journeys of the ration-parties from Battalion Headquarters to Company
Headquarters were no less exciting than those of the battalion transport
parties. Bearing heavy boxes or bags on heads or shoulders they crossed
from trench to trench in the open, tripping over wire, stumbling into
holes, dodging rifle fire, and, too often, falling victims to the sniper.
But the rations arrived and the men were fed.
The rations were monotonous and ill-suited to the climate. They consisted
of bacon (for breakfast), bully-beef and biscuit, with a little jam and
cheese, a tin of Maconochie’s vegetable rations being at first, but not
later, considered a treat, but Maconochie was particularly unsuited to a
hot climate. Fruit—even good tinned fruit—and fresh vegetables would have
done much to preserve the health of the men during the intense heat of
the summer. In due course every man became a more or less expert cook,
and to be on visiting terms was a privilege not unattended by risk, as
it involved the sampling of many weird experiments and decoctions.
Bread from the tents on Bakery Beach was first issued on May 21, and was
received with acclamation.
Firewood was very scarce, as there were few trees or bushes, but it
had to be obtained somehow for the trench fires over which the men
brewed their tea and cooked their food. It was therefore not uncommon
in the Helles area, in spite of orders issued to diminish waste, to see
a caseful of tins of bully-beef tipped out on the roadside, that the
invaluable wooden case might be split up for fuel. Butts of rifles which
lay beside their dead owners met the same fate. Evidence of the awful
waste of war abounded—weapons, ammunition, equipment, food, clothing,
trodden under foot, and left to rust and decay. Where man could not
expose himself by day these things remained unsalved for months, but
elsewhere they were collected and returned to store. The best place
where wood could be “won” was above Bakery Beach. A sentry was put over
the wood-pile, but interesting conversation and a few cigarettes would
occasionally distract his attention for the needful time.
On May 21 the Brigade Commanders received instructions from the
Divisional Commander on various points connected with the latest methods
and conditions of siege warfare, such as the use of bombs, sandbags,
and loopholes, and the action of snipers. One officer, one N.C.O. and
four men from each company were instructed in bombing, under the officer
commanding the R.E., and each infantry brigade was allotted 400 bombs.
It was found, however, that no more than 225 bombs were available for
distribution among the three brigades. The bombs were made from empty jam
tins sent down from the trenches to Lancashire Landing, where they were
filled (chiefly by the divisional butchers and bakers at first) with old
nails, bits of shell and of barbed wire, and other scraps of metal and an
explosive charge. At first a time fuse was fitted through the top of the
tin, and this had to be lighted by the aid of a match, but before long
a detonating fuse was fitted. Matches were scarce and valuable, and in
wind and rain many were wasted before the fuse could be lighted. These
bombs were first issued in very small quantities about an hour before the
attack began on June 4.
On the 25th of May occurred the memorable cloud-burst on Achi Baba, and
in a few moments the nullahs were in spate, the trenches flooded, and
thousands of men soaked to the skin. It was an Act of God which could
not be foreseen or provided against, and the hardship inflicted upon the
troops was very great. For a time the Krithia Nullah was impassable,
and many dead Turks were carried down. The Lancashire Fusiliers Brigade
Headquarters was under four feet of water for several hours, and the
Signal Office was washed away. One battalion was enjoying beef-steaks in
the dug-outs when a roar of water was heard, and a stream twenty feet
wide quickly filled every dug-out. With British tenacity the men held on
to chunks of bread and of steak as they scrambled for higher ground.
[Sidenote: _The Submarine Menace_]
Towards the end of the month the submarine menace developed into a very
real danger to the men-of-war in these waters. The battleship _Triumph_
was torpedoed on May 25 as she lay at anchor with nets out, off Anzac.
She sank in ten minutes with a loss of ten officers and sixty-eight
men. Two days later, the _Majestic_, Rear-Admiral Nicholson’s flagship,
lying off Cape Helles, fell a victim to the same German submarine, and
sank in six fathoms. Fortunately all but forty-eight men were saved.
This disaster was witnessed by many of the Territorials on the beaches
and cliffs. As other British and French battleships were attacked by
submarines about the same time, it became clear that naval co-operation
must be dispensed with, or considerably reduced, as ships at anchor
offered too easy a target for torpedoes.
The _Queen Elizabeth_ had been ordered home on the first hint of
danger, and now all the large ships were sent back to the safety of
Mudros, and the regatta-like gathering at the mouth of the Dardanelles
melted away. The Turk promptly seized the opportunity for propaganda
purposes. An ingeniously worded pamphlet, printed in English, French, and
Hindustani, and dropped from aeroplanes, notified the invaders that all
their battleships and transports had been destroyed, that the Germans
had gained control of the seas, and that no further supplies need be
expected. “Don’t take our word for it, but see for yourselves. Last week
you saw a large fleet of all kinds of vessels off Cape Helles. Look for
it to-day. You have fought bravely; give yourselves up now to an enemy
who respects your valour and will treat you well.” Tommy laughed. He had
got his rations for the day, and the morrow would take care of itself.
On the 25th of May the designation of the Division was changed, and as
the “42nd (East Lancashire) Division” it took precedence in numerical
order of all other Territorial divisions. The Lancashire Fusilier Brigade
became the 125th Infantry Brigade; the East Lancashire Brigade the 126th;
and the Manchester Brigade the 127th. On May 27 the 126th Brigade was
split up among various battalions of the 29th Division in order to bring
those depleted battalions up to strength pending the arrival of drafts
from England.