The Anzac Landing.
Early on Sunday morning the intention of Army Headquarters was made
clear by the issue of orders for the attack. A study of the map
revealed three dominating land features. In the south, overlooking Cape
Helles, was the great hump of Achi Baba. Inland from Suvla Bay was
the tangled mass of cliffs, valleys and hills culminating in the peak
of the Sari Bair system, which, from its height marked in feet, was
afterwards known as "Hill 971." Lying further over near the Straits and
protecting the fortress on the European side, was the mountain system
known as the "Pasha Dagh" or Kilid Bahr Plateau. Both Achi Baba and
Hill 971 had to be captured before attempting the plateau, which latter
having fallen, we could take possession of the great fortresses of
Kilid Bahr, and Chanak on the opposite shore. These two places in our
hands, the passage of the fleet would be largely a matter of careful
mine sweeping.
In order to mystify the enemy and to encourage him to disperse his
forces, two subsidiary attacks were undertaken. Away up at Bulair
a fleet of empty transports, accompanied by a few men-of-war, were
to make a demonstration. Down on the Asiatic coast the French were
to land, reduce Kum Kale and the forts in the neighbourhood, and
then withdraw. The 29th and Royal Naval Divisions were to land on
several beaches at the extremity of the Peninsula and push on towards
Krithia and Achi Baba, being reinforced by the French Division after
its withdrawal from Kum Kale. The Australian and New Zealand Army
Corps was ordered to force a landing on the beach between Gaba Tepe
and Fishermen's Hut. Hill 971 itself was to be avoided, the troops
endeavouring to pass over its southern under-features to the road
running from Boghali and Maidos. Mai Tepe was a hill specifically
mentioned. "The capture of this position would threaten and perhaps cut
the line of retreat of the enemy's troops on Kilid Bahr plateau, and
have far-reaching results," said the operation order.
[Illustration: MAP OF GALLIPOLI PENINSULA.
Illustrating the projected landings at Cape Helles, Gaba Tepe, and Kum
Kale.]
Passing Cape Helles.
When morning fully broke the New Zealand transports were nearing Cape
Helles. The big guns of the fleet were pounding the forts until the
horizon seemed a mass of smoke and flame. Over against Kum Kale the
French ships were hotly engaged; off Cape Helles the British stood
close into the forts. Again we saw our old friend the "Askold"--now
christened the "Packet of Woodbines," because of her five long funnels.
The noise of the naval bombardment was truly extraordinary--the sharp
crack of the lighter guns; the ear-splitting roar of the 12-inchers;
and booming clearly above them all, the tremendous reports from the
15-inch guns of the "Queen Elizabeth." Watching from the rail, the
soldiers were very sorry for the Turk. It seemed impossible that
anything could live through such a bombardment. At the morning service,
with the reverberation of the incessant gunfire assailing our ears, we
found it difficult to hear the padre reading "In the midst of life we
are in death." From across the water the bark of the 6-inch guns struck
harshly on the singing of the soldiers' favourite hymns.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by Col. Hughes, C.M.G., D.S.O._
A BATTLESHIP COVERING THE TRANSPORTS.
The old "London" steaming towards Anzac Cove.]
Just opposite Gaba Tepe the transports slowed down. Like children
kept inside on a wet day, we were very impatient. A desire to be
doing something possessed all ranks. The men broke up cases and split
the wood for kindling fires ashore. Every man pushed seven or eight
pieces through the straps on the back of his pack. Many seized the
opportunity to write the letter that most thoughtful soldiers write
at the beginning of a campaign--a letter to be carried in the breast
pocket and only to be forwarded by the comrade that buries him--tender
farewells, simply and beautifully written, as men always do write when
they are face to face with the things that really matter.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
TRANSPORTS OFF ANZAC COVE ON APRIL 25.
The ship in the foreground has disembarked Echelon A and is steaming
out to make room for the next transport.]
In groups of four the transports, covered by the battleships, moved
up to about a mile off shore, disembarked the troops of the first
echelon, and then moved to the rear, letting the next four continue
the manoeuvre. On our port side the old twin-funnelled "Majestic"
belched a stream of 12-inch shells on the ridges; away to starboard,
the four long funnels of the "Bacchante" were dimly discernible through
a tremendous column of smoke. Southwards, as far as the eye could see,
were transports innumerable, and closer in-shore, the angry, barking
battleships.
Going Ashore.
The destroyers were taking their human freights as far in as they
dared--and the average t.b.d. commander will dare a good deal. Over the
side and down the swaying rope ladders we went for the last time. This
was not a Mudros Harbour practice. We felt uncommonly clumsy and three
times our ordinary size. With our hob-nailed boots we clattered about
the iron deck, until it was so crowded we had perforce to stand still.
Now the picket boat zone was reached. Off the destroyer and into a
barge. Six barges made a tow. The little steamboat puffed and tugged,
and off we swerved like a sinuous snake.
The 3rd Australian Brigade made the first landing about 5 in the
morning, and had cleared the first ridges. New Zealand Headquarters
landed at 10 a.m.; then there was a strange hitch, and the precious
hours between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. were wasted. By this time the Turk
had in some measure made up his mind about the real attack and had
concentrated his guns on the beach. He only had to fire at the water's
edge, consequently he had no difficulty in ranging by the map. He knew
that the Landing must be in a very circumscribed area, and his ranging
was good. Shells plopped in the water all round as the tows set a
course for the beach.
[Illustration: [_Photo by Lieut. Moritzson, M.C., M.M_
GOING ASHORE.
A destroyer making ready to tow barges from the "Lutzow."]
Boat after boat of wounded passed us going back to the transports they
had left only a few hours before. They waved their blood-stained arms
and cheered with feeble cheers. The encouragement was certainly welcome.
We were now well within range. Rifle and shrapnel fire was whipping the
water round the boats. About 300 yards from the shore the barges were
cast loose, and each with a naval rating as coxswain, pulled vigorously
for the beach. Casualties were frequent. As the boats grounded, the
men tumbled out; many were hit in the water and were drowned. A major,
jumping from the bows--the water was about 2 feet deep--was hit in
the knee. He fell into the surf, but was hauled on board again, and
the picket boat towed him back to the transport he had just left.
The survivors fell in and adjusted their heavy equipment under the
protection of the sandy cliff.
Straight into the Battle.
Up in the maze of gullies the Australians were struggling with the
Turks. As each company or platoon came ashore it was rushed up to
the firing line. Casualties and the broken country made control very
difficult, and up where the tide ebbed and flowed, the natural leaders
of men, whether they happened to be officers or privates, led their
little groups to the attack or stood stubbornly at bay among the
scrub-clad hills.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by Col. Hughes, C.M.G., D.S.O._
A GOOD TARGET FOR THE TURKS.
A tow going ashore about noon of April 25.]
The orders given to our Division on disembarkation were for the New
Zealand Infantry Brigade to prolong the line to the left of the 1st
Australian Division, and particularly to support the left of the Third
Brigade, which had landed as the covering force to the Army Corps; the
4th Australian Infantry Brigade was to be held in reserve. The landing
of the Auckland Battalion was completed at 12 noon. Walker's Ridge was
given as its objective. By 12.30 p.m., two companies of the Canterbury
Battalion were ashore, and were directed to support the Auckland
Battalion.
[Illustration: "IN THE AIR."
A transport mule descending into a barge.]
At 1 p.m., the Auckland Battalion was recalled from Walker's Ridge
and brought more to the right, to occupy Plugge's Plateau, in order
more directly to connect with the left of the covering brigade. The
two Canterbury companies prolonged the left flank of the Auckland
Battalion, in the direction of Walker's Ridge. Between 12.30 p.m. and
5 p.m. the Otago Battalion arrived and was sent up to Plugge's Plateau
in support of the Auckland Battalion. When the remaining two companies
of the Canterbury Battalion arrived they were sent to Walker's Ridge to
prolong and reinforce the left flank.
Owing to the accuracy of the enemy big-gun fire, the transports with
our field guns aboard were temporarily forced to retire. The Turkish
gunners were punishing us severely, and we realized to the full the
bitterness of not being able to effectively retaliate. But the Indian
Mountain Batteries endeared themselves to all by their sacrificing
efforts. Gallantly led, these matchless gunners, with their patient
mules, wheedled their guns up to seemingly inaccessible vantage points;
unlimbering, they would get in a dozen effective shots and be down in
the gully and up to an alternate position before their opponents could
sense the situation.
All along the beach, under the scanty shelter of the cliff, the wounded
lay--some on stretchers, some on blankets, others on the shingle. The
surgeons worked as they never had before. Wounded poured down from the
hills incessantly. The picket boats towed their barges, crammed with
troops, to the beach, and seemed to take away almost as many wounded.
The sun went down and the ships stood over against Samothrace
silhouetted in the sunset. But with the night came no peace. The Turks
attacked with renewed vigour--reinforcements had arrived for them.
Blowing trumpets and shouting "Allah!" they surged forward. Our fellows
ran to meet them, cursing in good round English and very bad Arabic. Up
there in the tangled gullies many a strange duel was fought that night.
When not actually fighting, men dug for their lives. Then on would come
the Turks again, shovels would be dropped, and the attack repelled. One
desperate rush was stemmed by a gallant band headed by a corporal with
nothing more effective than a pick-handle.
A Desperate Night.
As the evening wore on, the beach became one long lane of suffering
soldiers. The doctors could only attend to the most severe cases. Many
a man, when asked if he was badly hurt, said, bravely enough, "Oh, no!"
and died quietly in the night.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
AN EARLY VIEW OF ANZAC COVE.
The mule lines did not stay long unmolested. "Beachy Bill" ranged on
them one day and caused awful havoc. They were then shifted up the
deres for protection.]
The stretcher bearers were magnificent. From the order, "Stretcher
squads fall in" at the moment of landing, these men slaved on the
ridges and in those valleys of torment. A man without a load can dash
from cover to cover, but the stretcher bearers, with their limp and
white-faced burdens, must walk steadily on, ignoring sniper and hostile
gunner. From the front line it took about two and a half hours to get a
patient to the hospital on the beach. Hour after hour the work went on,
until after twenty hours' stretcher bearing these unheeded heroes fell
in their tracks from sheer exhaustion. Volunteers took up the work,
but after a few hours' rest, the gallant souls were out again--medical
officers, stretcher bearers and hospital orderlies literally working
themselves to death in an endeavour to mitigate the awful anguish of
the wounded men of Anzac. "I shall never forget that night," said a
sergeant of the N.Z.M.C., "A twelve-stone weight on the stretcher,
a dark night, a little drizzling rain, groping our way down a steep
incline through prickly scrub, our wounded man crying with pain and
begging for a drink every few yards, incessant rifle fire, and bullets
whizzing all round us." Except those who lay so very quietly up in the
scrub or on the shell-swept beach, no one rested that night. The firing
line was gradually becoming a little defined as the tired soldiers on
both sides became exhausted.
[Illustration: THE CROWDED BEACH.]
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
THE SCORED CLIFFSIDES OF WALKER'S RIDGE.]
The units were inextricably mixed--Australian and New Zealand
infantry clung doggedly to the hardly-won crest line. Approximately,
the Australian 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Brigades held the right flank; the
centre was in a state of flux, but the 4th Australian Brigade held
the ridges at the head of Monash Gully; the Otago trenches grew
up overlooking Monash Gully; the Aucklanders dug in along Plugge's
Plateau; the Canterbury Battalion were desperately engaged on Walker's
Ridge, where their gallant commander (Lieut.-Colonel Stewart) fell
at the head of his men. The Wellingtons landed in the dark and went
straight up to Plugge's Plateau. The gunners laboured all through the
night preparing for the eagerly expected howitzers; while the sappers
hastily improvized a second line of defence along Plugge's Plateau down
Maclagan's Ridge to the sea. Here the last stand would be made if the
worst came, but the morning broke and the outer line was still intact;
picks were laid aside and the indomitable men of Anzac again took up
their rifles to face the trials of the day.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
PLUGGE'S PLATEAU.
Taken from Howitzer Gully, showing the road cut round the cliffside.]