The First Week.
No one had slept during the night. Re-embarkation was suggested, but a
conference was held and the Generals decided to hold on. The men made
strenuous efforts. Those not actually fighting were employed making
roads up Maclagan's Ridge in the centre, and up Walker's Ridge on the
left, in order that the guns might be man-handled up to the positions
selected by the artillery commanders.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
UNLOADING GUNS.
The stern of the horse boats dropped in the water makes an inclined
plane down which the gun is manhandled. The country was too rough for
horses, but fifty men on a rope can overcome most obstacles.]
About midnight, three companies of the 15th Battalion, 4th Australian
Infantry Brigade, arrived and were sent up to reinforce the 1st
Australian Division away on the right. They had been hardly pressed
just before sunset, and orders were given that all available troops
were to support the covering force (the 3rd Australian Infantry
Brigade) as they arrived, and to connect up with the New Zealand
Infantry Brigade on the left. During the remainder of the night,
platoons and companies of the Wellington Battalion of the New Zealand
Infantry Brigade, and of the 13th, 15th, and 16th Battalions of the 4th
Australian Infantry Brigade, were brought ashore.
The troops arrived in very irregular order--some from one ship and
some from another. As each platoon or company came ashore, it was
immediately despatched, under the senior officer present, to support
the right flank, where the 1st Australian Division was most hotly
engaged. The result was that units of both divisions became hopelessly
mixed up, and it was several days before they could be disentangled.
By 3 a.m., the whole of the Australian 13th Battalion had arrived.
The bulk of it was held temporarily in reserve. One and a half more
companies of the Wellington Battalion now occupied Plugge's Plateau,
above the beach, and half a company had been sent off to join the 1st
Australian Division on the right. By 5 a.m., the remaining company
of the Wellington Battalion had arrived, and by 6 a.m., a section of
the New Zealand Howitzer Battery was brought ashore, and gladdened
the heart of every infantryman as it came into action at the foot of
Howitzer Gully. "Boom!" went the howitzer. "The guns, thank God! the
guns!" murmured the tired soldiers.
Shrapnel Gully.
The Turk quickly realized that the valley running from behind Hell Spit
deep into the centre of Anzac must be the channel of communication.
His gunners were so assiduous that it was quickly christened Shrapnel
Gully. The top of this valley was afterwards known as Monash Gully.
The glory of the spring was still on the Peninsula. Birds sang in the
bushes, and the fragrance of crushed wild thyme perfumed the morning
air. Patches of red poppies glowed in the sheltered open places. Draped
around the prickly scrub were festoons of wild honeysuckle. But down in
the bottom of Shrapnel Valley was a dreadful sight. The moist earth in
the old creek bed had been ploughed into mud by thousands of hurrying
feet. Soldiers, in their eagerness to get forward, had thrown off their
kits and equipment, and there the debris lay, punched and trampled
into the mess. Dead mules were scattered about in helpless attitudes.
Every few yards one met soldiers--their clothes torn by rock and scrub,
their bodies mangled by bullet and bomb--stumbling down that Valley of
Death to have their wounds dressed at the casualty clearing stations.
A steady stream of stretcher bearers carried back limp forms; shrapnel
burst high in the air; machine guns spluttered; mountain guns barked;
the crash and rattle of musketry never ceased as the echoes rolled
round the myriad hillsides. High over all, black specks up in the sky,
but watchful as of old, the vultures gathered together, knowing full
well that blood was being spilt.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by the Author_
THE FIRST DUGOUTS.
This picture was taken a few days after the landing, and shows the
dugouts of the 4th Howitzer Battery and Divisional Engineers, near
the foot of Howitzer Gully. The scrub is still uncut on the slopes of
Maclagan's Ridge and Plugge's Plateau.]
The drumfire down at Helles boomed all day. The old battleships, with
their big guns, raked the Turkish positions, while the big 15-inchers
of the "Queen Elizabeth" roared loudly above the great roll of gunfire.
The moral support afforded by this ship was incalculable. "Good old
Lizzie," the soldiers shouted, as her great guns spoke. Optimistic
always, the men looked continually for signs of the British and French
advancing from Cape Helles. When the second day's battle was at its
height, the cry was raised, "Cease fire! the English troops are here,"
but it was only a ruse of the Turks--and the musketry battle resumed
its violence. Cries of "Cease fire" and "Retreat" shouted in English,
caused at first a momentary wavering, but soon the Colonial soldiers
realized the deceptions, and the would-be deceivers shouted commands in
vain.
The End of the Second Day.
The second day crept to a close, and our lines were hourly being made
secure. Units were inextricably mixed, but, roughly, the Australian
Division held the line south of Courtney's Post, while the N.Z. and A.
Division held Courtney's and all northwards of it.
No man thought of rest: to work was salvation.
On top of a big yellow mound at the head of Monash Gully there was
a rough cross, inscribed, "Here lie buried twenty-nine soldiers of
the King." Two of these men--one an Australian of the 14th Infantry
Battalion, the other a sapper of the New Zealand Engineers--had been
found just below the fatal crest of Courtney's Post, with their arms
still clasped around each other's waists. As they lay among the scrub,
those poor lifeless bodies seemed symbolical of the new spirit that
had grown up on the Peninsula. While in Egypt, the Commonwealth and
Dominion soldiers had their little differences; but the first two days
on the Peninsula swept away all the little jealousies and the petty
meannesses. Every man helped his neighbour. There was no question of
corps, or rank, or colour. By common trials, a common suffering, and
a common interest, Australian, Indian, and New Zealander realized
they were brothers in fact, as in arms. These first two days made
great things possible within the Empire. The experience of those sweet
sensations of brotherhood will be cherished and handed down as one of
the priceless gifts of Anzac.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by Col. J. G Hughes, C.M.G., D.S.O._
HEADQUARTERS OF THE N.Z. AND A. DIVISION.]
The New Zealand machine gun sections experienced a particularly trying
time. They were attached to individual battalions and were not fought
as a unit. The Auckland guns were pushed forward with their battalion,
and somewhere at the head of Monash Gully were so hard pressed that
they had to abandon one gun, which was retrieved from its hiding place
two days after. The Otagos also came under a very hot fire. They, too,
abandoned a gun, but never regained it, as an Australian party found it
and consistently refused to give it up! Right through the campaign the
Otago Regiment were one gun short, fighting only three guns.
The Wellington gunners were heavily punished on April 27. They
evidently pushed too far forward in their eagerness to get at the
Turks, but snipers picked them off one by one, until the officer was
killed and the whole of the personnel disabled, except one lad who was
acting as ammunition carrier.
Gradually the field artillery got their guns from the barges, and with
long ropes manhandled them to their almost inaccessible positions.
Tracks were cut on the hillsides, rough jetties were improvised, and
dugouts were constructed. Mostly these were holes in the ground big
enough for a man and his mate to get nearly into. A waterproof sheet
served as roof, and when it rained, as it did nearly every night, the
waterproof sheet collected and deposited on the occupants whatever
water had fallen in the catchment area.
Washing became a lost art. Mirrors were converted into periscopes. The
previously spic-and-span New Zealand Army grew dirty-faced, unshaven,
and ragged looking.
The rum ration was a boon at this time, as it engendered a little
warmth, and enabled one, if off duty, to get a little sleep. "Stand-to"
was at 4 o'clock, half an hour before dawn, when the entire force in
the trenches and on the beach stood to arms in readiness for an attack.
The First Landing at Suvla.
The front line having been made fairly secure, attention had to be
turned to the flanks. A glance at the map will show Nibrunesi Point,
near Suvla Bay, about four miles to the north of Ari Burnu, and Gaba
Tepe about two miles south. On both these promontories the Turks had
look-outs, from which their observers spotted the effect of artillery
fire. As with glasses they could see all that occurred in Anzac Cove,
it was considered necessary to destroy both look-outs.
[Illustration:
_[Photo by the Author_
THE FIRST TRENCHES ON THE CLIFF-EDGE NEAR RUSSELL'S TOP.]
For the Gaba Tepe cutting-out expedition Australians were detailed.
Nibrunesi Point was assigned to the New Zealanders. Three officers and
fifty men of the Canterbury Battalion (13th Westland Company) and an
officer and two N.C.O.'s of the N.Z.E. were employed.
The party left Anzac Cove in the dark early one morning and steamed
up the coast in a torpedo-boat destroyer. The plan was to land on
the northern side of the Peninsula and work upwards to the highest
point--Lala Baba. Two destroyers came close in and commanded each side
of the Peninsula, whilst the old "Canopus" stood further out to sea and
supported the whole. If the Turks at Anafarta behaved badly they would
receive chastisement by the guns of His Majesty's Navy.
The observation post itself had some attention from the big ship the
day before; but it was not known whether opposition would now be met
with. The instructions were to destroy the station, get any prisoners
for the Intelligence Officers, and to seek for and destroy a gun that
the naval airmen had reason to suspect was being placed there.
The party got ashore without mishap. Day had now broken, and in three
groups the attackers crept up the gullies towards the crest. It was a
dewy morning, and the fresh, clean smell of the Turkish meadow flowers
mingled with the scent of the wild thyme crushed with the soldiers'
hobnailed boots.
The place seemed deserted. There was a traversed trench just below the
crest. Most of the troops had jumped it, when--crack! crack! crack!
broke on the morning silence. Down dropped the Westlanders; then rushed
back to the trench, and there, in the sunlight, was the picture--the
trench full of squirming Turks, and standing over them with threatening
bayonets the gallant boys from Greymouth. Johnny Turk had been caught
napping, and the initiative of the New Zealand private soldier had
sealed his fate. It was then realized that the few Turkish phrases
laboriously learned did not convey much to the terrified prisoners.
They quickly decided that the proper thing to do was to throw all their
arms out of the trench--and out they came, rifles, knives and even
safety razors. The poor Turkish wounded lay groaning in the bottom
of the trench, while the unwounded, on their knees, murmured "Allah!
Allah!" and passed their hands mechanically from their foreheads to
their breasts and back again. A few men were left to get the wounded
and prisoners down to the boat; the remainder scoured the Suvla flats
in full view of the Turks on the Anafarta hills.
Three small houses proved to be empty, but in them were found the kits
of the guard; in one, the cells of a telephone instrument, with which
the garrison communicated with their headquarters at Anafarta. The
wire was cut, and a slab of guncotton placed in each of the houses to
demolish them.
[Illustration:
[_Photo by Lieut. Moritzson, M.C., M.M., N.Z.E._
THE EVENING HATE.
Shells falling among bathers off Hell Spit.]
The gun position was located, but there was no gun mounted. The dead
Turks were covered over in their own trench, the charges in the
houses were fired, and the party, with captured papers and prisoners,
re-embarked without mishap and returned at noon to Anzac.
Thus was the first landing at Suvla carried out successfully by New
Zealanders without a single casualty.
The Australian attempt on Gaba Tepe was most unfortunate. The Turks at
this place were not caught napping. As at Helles, barbed wire ran down
into the water and machine guns enfiladed the landing place. After
sustaining many casualties, the party withdrew, and the Turkish post on
Gaba Tepe remained a thorn in the side of Anzac until the evacuation.
The Nerve-Centre of Anzac.
A walk along Anzac Cove was full of interest and incident. The little
landing beach--a shelving strip of shingle, only twenty-five yards
wide--was never safe, but in a measure it was protected from shrapnel
by the height of Plugge's Plateau and the two ridges running down
towards Hell Spit and Ari Burnu. The Cove became the nerve-centre of
Anzac: nestling under the low cliffs on the beach were the Headquarters
of the Army Corps, the hospital of the Field Ambulance, the Ordnance
and Supply Depots.
General Birdwood had located his Army Corps Headquarters in the little
gully debouching on to the centre of the beach. Close by were the naval
shore parties with their wireless plant for maintaining communication
with the fleet; the Headquarters of the Australian Division were tucked
away a little further up the gully.
The southern extremity of Anzac Cove was christened Hell Spit. Jutting
out into the water, this point got the benefit of fire from both of
the flanks. Here were situated the engineers' stores of explosives and
materials; working parties sent for wire, sandbags or timber, did not
dwell too long in the vicinity. Close by, under the sandy cliff, the
mule drivers of the Indian Supply and Transport had made their little
dugouts--the waves of the Ægean lapping their very thresholds. At the
foot of the track leading over the spur to Shrapnel Valley were the
dressing stations of the Australian Ambulance, with their little Red
Cross wharf from which the wounded were evacuated. Just opposite Army
Headquarters some of the many stranded barges were made to serve as
landing stages for great quantities of bully beef, jam and biscuits,
which, placed in high stacks, gave some protection from the shells
constantly arriving from the Olive Grove and Anafarta. Hereabout the
water barge was also moored; the water being pumped ashore into tanks.
The New Zealand Sector.
The beach north of these stores was allotted to our Division. A little
gully running up to the foot of Plugge's Plateau gave excellent
cover for the New Zealand battery of 4.5 howitzers--the first New
Zealand guns to get ashore, and the only howitzers at that time on
the Peninsula. In those early days, infantry carrying parties were
constrained to rest awhile in order to observe the shell pursue its
lobbing course over Maclagan's Ridge towards the distant target.
[Illustration:
[_Lent by Lieut. Moritzson, M.C., M.M., N.Z.E._
MULES AT THE FOOT OF HOWITZER GULLY.]
At the foot of Howitzer Gully were the New Zealand Ordnance Stores--for
a time the most frequented place in Anzac. Fresh water was unobtainable
for washing purposes. Continual washing of clothes in salt water made
all undergarments very hard, so down to the Ordnance would the soldier
go to procure new shirts and socks. Here, also, were piles of captured
rifles and ammunition, and a pathetic heap of kits which had been
thrown away during the first advance and since collected. A one-time
famous old wrestler stood guard over these kits, and one had to
establish an undeniable claim before the property was handed over. Very
many of the kits were never claimed, being stained with the life-blood
of those impetuous spirits who had established the Anzac line.
The mule lines of the Indian Transport Corps ran along the beach in
front of Divisional Headquarters. Close by, the dressing station of the
New Zealand No. 1 Field Ambulance caught the streams of wounded that
flowed down Howitzer Gully and from Walker's Ridge. Out in front of the
hospital squatted an Indian mule driver, who spent most of his time
clipping mules. Between his bursts of singing in a minor key he would
cry, "Hair cut, sixpence!" The soldier, who by this time realized that
more than snipers took advantage of cover, would sit on the sandy bank
and have his hair cut short by the mule clippers.
[Illustration:
[_Lent by Col. Falla, C.M.G., D.S.O._
THE CEMETERY AT ARI BURNU.]
The northern extremity of Anzac Cove never received an English name,
but was always known as Ari Burnu. The beach north of this point was
unsafe for traffic in the daytime, as it was within easy range of
Turkish snipers. A few hundred yards along this stretch of white sand
were two or three stranded boats--boats that had run in there on the
day of the landing, but were stove in and their crews killed by hostile
fire. There they lay, a pitiful sight, out in the glare of the noonday
sun. To avoid this piece of dangerous beach by day, a communication
trench commenced in Anzac Cove along by the wireless station near Ari
Burnu. This trench doubled back across the point, running out towards
Mule Gully and Walker's Ridge, eventually becoming part of the "Big
Sap" that led towards the extreme left flank.
Land was valuable at Anzac, particularly land that was safe. The parts
that were exposed could not be used for dugouts or stores, so were set
apart as cemeteries. Here, on the point of Ari Burnu, between the Big
Sap and the sea, New Zealanders who were killed near Anzac Cove were
carefully carried after dark and buried by loving comrades.
The Tragic Lack of Hospital Ships.
If there was one thing that showed our unpreparedness for war on
a large scale, it was the neglect to anticipate accommodation for
wounded. This did not apply only to the New Zealanders--British,
French, Colonial and Indian suffered alike. The regimental medical
officers and stretcher bearers did more than mortal men could be
expected to do. But a man hit up on Walker's Ridge or at the head
of Monash Gully, after receiving his field dressing at a sheltered
corner of a trench or in the regimental aid post, had to be carried
in the heat, down bullet-swept valleys and along the dangerous beach.
Here the surgeons and orderlies of the Field Ambulances redressed
the wounds, gave the men something to eat and drink, and placed them
out of the sun, away from the torturing flies. Even in these Field
Ambulance dressing stations men were not immune from the shrapnel which
swept the beach. The Turk could not be blamed for this, as we had, of
necessity, to place our hospitals wherever there was room. Streams of
men constantly arrived, some walking, many on stretchers--Zionists
with tears streaming down their faces, determined Colonials and
pathetic-looking Indians--wounded in our cause, now separated from
their fellows, and miserable because they could not understand the
sahibs' language.
[Illustration:
[_Lent by Capt. Boxer, N.Z.M.C._
THE TRAGEDY OF THE ANZAC WOUNDED.
Men, sick unto death, lying in the scuppers; tired, suffering,
uncomplaining men with bloodstained kits, and wounds that became septic
before Alexandria was reached.]
When night came, the picket boats would move into the little Red Cross
wharves, and the wounded men were carried to the barges. When a tow was
ready, the picket boat started on its journey for the hospital ship or
transport. The high ground surrounding Anzac Cove ensured that bullets
clearing the crest went many hundred yards out to sea. Some days, when
Turkish firing was brisk, the sea was whipped into a white foaming
line where the bullets splashed angrily into the water. Through this
barrage of singing bullets the Red Cross barge must go. Picket boats or
trawlers could not dodge from place to place like soldiers in Monash
Gully, so they had to risk it, and take it in their course.
[Illustration:
[_Lent by Capt. Boxer, N.Z.M.C._
HOSPITAL SHIP AND HOSPITAL CARRIER IN MUDROS.]
Outside the range of these "overs" were the waiting ships. The hospital
ships proper had good appliances for handling wounded. A long box would
be lowered over the side, the man and the stretcher placed bodily
into it, and hauled up on to the deck, where he was seized by waiting
orderlies and whisked away to wards for a diagnosis, a hot bath, some
very necessary insecticide, and a meal to suit his particular needs.
But the hospital ships soon became overcrowded. Hundreds of men were
accommodated on the decks without cots. They did not complain. They
came to the war voluntarily, and took what was coming to them as a
matter of course. Ask a sorely wounded man if he wanted anything, and
if it was not a drink of water, it would be a laconic "Have you got a
green?" He seemed more annoyed with the ration cigarettes than he was
with the Turk.
Presently the cry would be, "Ship full!" and the next load would be
taken to an ordinary transport, dirty, full of vermin, and entirely
unsuited for handling wounded. But it had to be. Nothing better was
offering. So the wounded men--tossing about on the barge, seasick, with
their clothes stiff with blood and their heads burning with the fever
resulting from wounds--were hauled up with the improvized tackle to the
dirty decks of the transport. There were few medical officers. Some
came from the overworked and understaffed field ambulances ashore, and
laboured like galley slaves against the tremendous inrush of broken
men. Naval surgeons and dressers left their battleships and toiled
heroically among the wounded Colonials. But there were not enough
doctors to do a tenth of the work. In the old British way, we were
paying for unpreparedness with the flesh and blood of our willing
young men. On one ship, the only man with any knowledge of medicine
was the veterinary officer, who, assisted by clerks and grooms of
the waiting Echelon B, saved dozens of lives by prompt and careful
attention. So, with a score of men dying on each ship every night,
the transports crept with their cargoes of human wreckage to the port
of Alexandria--the hospital ships going on to Malta, Gibraltar, or
even England. In Egypt, great emergency hospitals were opened, and
everything possible was done to alleviate the dreadful suffering of the
heroic and uncomplaining soldiers of the Mediterranean Expeditionary
Force.