KIRETCH TEPE SIRT.
AUGUST 15TH-16TH, 1915.
“If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you,
Except the will that says to them ‘Hold on.’”
—_Kipling._
Before dealing with the battle of Kiretch Tepe Sirt, it is necessary
to give some account of the doings of General Hill’s force after
the capture of Chocolate Hill on the 7th. Dawn on the 8th found
them bivouacking on the position they had taken on the previous
evening and during the day, a defensive trench system, including both
Chocolate Hill and Green Hill (Hill 50), 500 yards to the eastward
of it. By this time the line taken up by our troops ran from the sea
at Beach “B” to the two hills held by the 31st Brigade and thence
northward across the Anafarta Plain at an average distance of three
miles from the sea.
Throughout the 8th no advance was made from this line, since the
Corps Commander was of opinion that the troops were very exhausted,
and that there was insufficient artillery support at his disposal
to justify him in making an attack on an enemy of unknown strength
possessing the advantages of a superior position and knowledge of the
ground. Unquestionably there was a considerable amount to be said in
favour of this contention. On the previous day the enemy’s barrage
fire had taken a heavy toll of casualties, and but little effective
reply had been made to it. This was in part due to difficulties of
observation, but also to the fact that up to the 8th, only three
batteries had been landed, two of which, being mountain batteries,
possessed only guns of small calibre. There were also the guns of the
ships, but it was not always easy to communicate with the fleet in
time to achieve the desired object, and it must also be borne in mind
that space in a warship is limited, and that once its magazine is
empty it cannot quickly be replenished. Added to these considerations
the fact that the men were suffering terribly from want of water,
that no transport of any kind was available, and that in consequence
every unit found itself compelled to detach about a quarter of its
men for the purpose of carrying up rations and ammunition, made it
not unnatural for a commander to exercise caution.
On the whole, the 8th was a quiet day for the troops, though the sun
shone as fiercely as ever and there was plenty of work to be done
in burying the dead and getting up supplies. There was not much
shelling, but hostile snipers were ubiquitous and much in evidence.
These crawled up through the scrub or climbed trees in such manner
that they commanded the greater part of our line, and made it
dangerous to move about.
On Monday, the 9th, the Corps Commander had decided to attack the
high ground behind Anafarta Saghir with the 11th Division and part
of the newly-landed 53rd (Territorial) Division. For the purpose of
this attack, General Hill was ordered to place two battalions under
the orders of the General Officer Commanding the 32nd Brigade (11th
Division). The 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers and the 6th Royal Dublin
Fusiliers, neither of which had sustained very heavy losses in the
previous fighting, were detailed for this duty and co-operated in the
attack. The objective allotted to them was a height known as Hill 70,
the culminating ridge of a spur which ran out to the north-east of
Chocolate Hill between the hill and Anafarta Saghir about a mile and
a half south-west of that village.
[Illustration: A FAUGH-A-BALLAGH TEASES A TURKISH SNIPER
_Official photograph issued on behalf of the Press Bureau, Crown
copyright reserved_]
As soon as the advance began, it became evident, both from the
increase in the volume of musketry and from the growing intensity
of the hostile artillery fire, that the Turks had been heavily
reinforced, but in spite of their losses, the Fusiliers effected a
lodgment on the ridge. For a time they clung to it though the
enemy were delivering repeated counter-attacks, and a series of bush
fires caused by their shells made the position almost untenable, and
threatened the wounded with the most terrible of deaths. Further to
the left, however, the 32nd Brigade found that they were unable to
hold the ground that they had won in their first advance, and were
compelled by attacks on their flanks to withdraw to their original
alignment.
The Fusiliers, who had suffered heavily under the violent Turkish
attacks, conformed to their movements and returned to their first
position. Captain Johnston, the Adjutant of the 6th Royal Irish
Fusiliers, was killed and so was Lieutenant MacDermot of the same
regiment, which also lost eight officers wounded: the Dublins also
lost heavily. In the course of this action, a curious incident is
said to have occurred. The Medical Officer of the 6th Dublins had
followed his battalion in its forward movement, and had established
his advanced dressing-station under a tree in the newly-captured
territory. After a time he noticed that several of the wounded, who
were brought back by the stretcher-bearers, were hit a second time as
they lay waiting to have their wounds attended to. A search was made
for snipers in the surrounding bushes without result, but eventually
a Turk was discovered perched in the tree itself.
While these operations were in progress, the remainder of General
Hill’s force had been employed in support. While fulfilling this
rôle, they suffered both from the ubiquitous snipers and from the
enemy’s shrapnel fire, which had become far heavier than it was two
days earlier. The casualties, however, were not very heavy, except in
the two attacking battalions. Another sphere of usefulness was also
found for portions of the supporting units.
The prolonged fire fight waged by the 11th Division had exhausted
their ammunition, and officers and men from General Hill’s force
were detailed to carry up fresh supplies. It is not particularly
pleasant work, carrying up thousands of rounds of ball cartridge in
a tropical country through bushes infested with snipers, but the men
did it splendidly. Lieutenant J. F. Hunter, of the 6th Inniskilling
Fusiliers, was afterwards awarded the Military Cross for the courage
and disregard of danger exhibited by him on this occasion. Often,
too, the ammunition carriers when they had delivered their loads
attached themselves to the nearest unit and joined the firing line.
Captain Tobin and a party of the 7th Dublins fought side by side with
an English regiment in this manner throughout the day. There was
little wrong with the _morale_ of the troops when men voluntarily
thrust themselves into the positions of greatest danger.
On the following day, August 10th, the day on which the struggle on
Sari Bair reached its height, another unsuccessful attack was made on
the Anafarta ridge, but in this General Hill’s force took no part.
They were now, and for the rest of the week occupied in holding the
line that they had captured on the 7th through Green Hill. This
position was heavily shelled by the enemy and some units lost heavily.
Throughout this period, however, the troops suffered most for want of
water. Though by this time a certain number of petrol cans and other
receptacles for carrying water had been obtained yet these were quite
insufficient to satisfy the men’s consuming thirst. It is hard to
find words to convey the true state of affairs. No doubt it would be
too much to say that at home thirst is unknown, but at any rate the
passionate craving for water felt in Gallipoli is seldom experienced.
When the water came up, the most careful supervision was needed
in order to see that the much-needed liquid was used to fill the
water-bottles and not consumed at once. When the bottles were filled,
or rather had received their share, since there was not water enough
to fill them, it was necessary to watch them vigilantly in order to
make the supply last as long as possible.
Some men became hardly responsible for their actions; the heat was
intense, the biscuit was dry and the bully beef very salt, while
many men were suffering from dysentery or enteritis and were parched
with fever though they were unwilling to report sick in the face
of the enemy. In such times surface civilization vanishes, and
man becomes a primitive savage. A few men crept away to look for
water by themselves, others stole bottles from their neighbours
and emptied them, but on the whole the discipline of the force
stood the strain remarkably well. It was a severe trial for young
unacclimatized soldiers who had less than a year’s service, but the
months of training had not been in vain. The men knew and trusted
their officers, and felt that they would do their best for them.
Perhaps the officer’s position was hardest of all. Thirsty himself,
rationing himself by spoonfuls in order to make the contents of his
water-bottle last longer, he was compelled to watch his men suffering
from pangs which he could not relieve, and at the same time to try
and keep their spirits up by laughing and joking with them. There
had always been friendship between the officers and men of the 10th
Division, but a bond not easily to be broken was cemented in those
scorching suffering days.
[Illustration: THE 7TH DUBLINS IN THE TRENCHES AT CHOCOLATE HILL
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
By this time it had become evident to the Higher Command that no
further progress could be made at Suvla without reinforcements, and
steps were taken to obtain them from Egypt and from the Cape Helles
area. In the meanwhile it was decided that the 10th Division
should be reunited, and accordingly, one by one, the battalions of
General Hill’s force were relieved from their posts on Chocolate Hill
and Green Hill and marched down to the beach to rest.
The battalions as they tramped back to the shore again were very
different in appearance from those that had marched up from it less
than a week before. Officers and men alike were dirty and unshaven,
for water had been precious, and the sweat dried on the face, and the
five days’ growth of stubble told plainly of the hardships they had
been through. Even more clearly did the eyes tell it, and the worn
cheeks and leanness of limb. Clothes and boots had not been taken off
since landing, and both were soiled with sweat and blood. There were
many gaps in the ranks: death, wounds and sickness had taken their
toll, and nearly every man had to mourn for a lost comrade, yet for
all the sorrow and the weariness there was something in the men’s
bearing that was not there before. When they landed they were full of
high hopes and eager to justify splendid traditions, but they were
untried. Now they had proved themselves, and faced the future filled
with confidence gained from their own deeds. The move began on the
10th and was completed when the 7th Dublins marched down on the 13th.
On the beach, though the comfort of the rest-camp was nothing to
boast of, men were at least able to wash and shave, though the amount
of fresh water available for this purpose was limited, and the man
who got a mugful was lucky. Even so, most hurried to remove the long
stubble that covered their chins, for a five days’ old beard is not
only unsightly, but uncomfortable, pricking and tickling the skin
at every movement, and harbouring any quantity of dust and sand.
Fortunately too, though fresh water was scarce, the sea was at hand,
and it was possible to bathe. Some poet should sing of the delight of
bathing in Gallipoli. Not even Mr. Masefield has done it justice. In
the water one could for the first time be cool and free from care,
though not from danger. By day the water sparkled in the sunshine:
at night the form of the swimmer was outlined in phosphorescence and
great bubbles of glowing light broke round him as he moved, and by
day and night alike the bather could free himself from the burden of
responsibility which weighed him down on shore. As Antaeus renewed
his strength whenever he touched the earth, so the Island people
gained fresh stores of endurance from a dip in the sea. In the water,
too, all men were equal, and rank could be laid aside.
After resting for a day or so on the beach, and receiving the first
reinforcement which had just arrived from Mudros, the 10th Division
(less 29th Brigade) concentrated on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, General
Hill’s force once more coming under the command of Divisional
Headquarters. As General Birdwood had reported that Anzac was not
yet in a position to co-operate in an attack on Ismail Oglu Tepe,
it was decided to occupy the Turks by attacking along the crest of
the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, and thus rendering it impossible for them
to bring an enfilade fire to bear against our operations on the
Anafarta plain. This attack was to be made on August 15th, and the
10th Division was ordered to undertake it. They were to be assisted
on their left by the guns of two destroyers in the Gulf of Saros,
and on their right by the 162nd Brigade of the 54th Territorial
Division. Artillery support was also, of course, arranged for. The
task before the Division was one of considerable difficulty since the
enemy occupied a strongly entrenched position, and was known to have
received large reinforcements. However, waiting would only make him
stronger, and everyone was pleased at the prospect of action.
The 15th of August was not only a Sunday, but also the day known in
Ireland as “Lady Day in Harvest,” a great Church festival, and the
chaplains had endeavoured to arrange services for their battalions.
These had to be hurried through or attended only by the few who could
be spared, but nevertheless Canon McLean was able to administer Holy
Communion to some of the officers and men of the Dublins, and Father
Murphy visited each battalion of the 30th Brigade and gave the men
absolution. Then at peace with God they turned their faces again
towards the enemy.
The dispositions adopted for the attack were as follows: The 30th
Brigade (Dublins and Munsters) were to form the left wing of the
advance, with the extreme left of the 7th Munsters resting on the
Gulf of Saros. They thus covered the whole of the northern and part
of the southern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt. To their right two
battalions of the 31st Brigade were to advance through the southern
foothills of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt and across the open plain to
attack a spur known as Kidney Hill, which jutted out southward from
the main chain of the ridge. The 5th and 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers
and the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers were in reserve.
Soon after noon the attack commenced, and it was at once evident that
the Turks were holding their position in strength, the volume of fire
which they were bringing to bear on our men being infinitely greater
than that which had greeted us at the first landing. A captured
Turkish officer afterwards declared that they had in their firing
line six fresh battalions, each possessing twelve machine-guns. The
rattle of these seventy-two guns was painfully prominent, and made it
clear that the advance would be a costly one. The actual crest of
the hill was a bare rocky ridge covered with great scattered boulders
running for about a mile and a half at a height of six hundred feet
above sea level. Part of the ridge rose about fifty feet higher than
this, and from this central portion three small eminences stood out.
The central one of these was known as the “Pimple,” and was marked by
a cairn of stones.
The Division had gained a footing on the western end of the ridge on
August 8th by capturing the position afterwards known as Jephson’s
Post, and now the Turkish trenches ran across the hill between that
point and the “Pimple.” On the northern face the slope fell steeply
away from the crest, so steeply as to be almost precipitous until it
reached a height of three hundred feet above sea-level, from which
contour the descent to the sea was more gradual though the ground
was intersected by numerous gullies. On the southern face the hill
also fell away rapidly for about three hundred feet, after which the
descent became more easy, and various knolls and foothills detached
themselves from the main range. Both slopes of the hill were covered
with thick dry scrub, which had in a few places been set on fire
either by matches or shells, and consequently had become blackened.
This prickly scrub was a great impediment to movement of any kind and
rendered all operations painfully slow.
For more than two hours after the commencement of the action, but
little ground was gained. The enemy’s rifle and machine-gun fire was
well sustained, and efficiently supported by artillery, and it was
considered rash to advance until a fire fight had done somewhat to
silence the Turks. During this stage of the action, Major Jephson,
of the 6th Munsters, was mortally wounded on the peak that, a
week earlier, had received his name, and several other casualties
occurred among officers and men. At last, General Nicol, seeing that
the Turkish fire showed no signs of slackening, and that darkness
would soon make further operations impossible, directed that an
attempt to advance should be made along the northern slope of the
ridge. The order was at once complied with. Two companies of the 6th
Munsters and two of the 6th Dublins pressed forward accordingly, and
succeeded, thanks to a piece of dead ground, in traversing about half
of the five hundred yards that lay between Jephson’s Post and the
Turkish line of defence.
There for a while they rested, and then about 6 p.m. with the setting
sun at their backs they charged the Turkish positions. Crags and
scrub and cliff were as nothing to them, nor did they regard the
hostile fire but rushed on with gleaming bayonets in the force of an
irresistible attack. Few of the Turks stayed to meet them, and those
that did were in no mood to receive the charge, but held up their
hands and surrendered. Then as the Dublins and Munsters, Major Tynte
of the 6th Munsters at their head, gained the enemy’s position, they
gave a rousing cheer. It was taken up by the troops in support and by
all who watched the magnificent charge until from the Gulf of Saros
to the Salt Lake the air resounded with the shouts of victory. There
had not been much cause for cheering at Suvla, and the sight of the
dashing attack and the sound of the Irish triumph cry, thrilled the
hearts of many who had previously been despondent, and awakened hope
once more in their breasts. Most surprising of all was its effect on
the Turks. They had been heavily bombarded by the destroyers, they
had seen a position that they believed impregnable taken with the
bayonet, and now with the magic of the cries of the infidels ringing
in their ears, they abandoned their trenches and retired in haste.
The Dublins and Munsters pursued and drove them before them until the
whole of the northern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt as far as and
even beyond the “Pimple” was cleared. The men were disappointed that
more of the enemy did not stay to face them. One soldier was heard to
cry to a stout Turk who fled before him: “I don’t want to stick ye
behind. Turn round now and I’ll stick ye in the belly dacent.” Then,
as night was falling and nearly a mile of ground had been gained, a
halt was called so that the captured position might be consolidated.
On the right, meanwhile, the attack had unfortunately been less
successful. The main attack on Kidney Hill had been entrusted to the
5th Inniskilling Fusiliers, who, owing to the fact that they had not
disembarked till evening of the 7th, had sustained fewer casualties
than the rest of the Division; it was to be supported by the 6th
Battalion of the same regiment. The Inniskillings had probably the
most difficult task of any unit before them.
On the seaward side of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt the guns of the
destroyers were of tremendous assistance to the attack, but they
were unable to fire over the ridge. The remainder of our artillery,
especially the mountain batteries, did their best to keep down the
enemy’s fire, but they were shooting at a venture since the exact
position of the enemy’s trenches was not accurately known. In
consequence of this comparatively little had been done to prevent the
Turks on Kidney Hill from bringing their full rifle and machine-gun
fire to bear on our advance. The nature of the ground, too, lent
little help to the attackers. Though the scrub was thick and prickly
enough to break up the advancing lines into small groups, and to
render it impossible for an officer to influence any more than
the four or five men who happened to be in sight of him, yet on
the plain it grew in scattered clumps. Between these clumps were
patches of sand or withered grass, on which the enemy were able to
concentrate their rifle and machine-gun fire. Added to this, the fact
that from the surrounding hills the Turkish gunners could see every
detail of the advance over the plain (khaki drill shows up clearly
in the Gallipoli scrub) and could spray it with shrapnel and high
explosive, made the operation three times as difficult. Nor was there
any distraction elsewhere in the Suvla area. The hostile artillery
was able to concentrate its whole force on the Inniskillings.
At noon the battalion began its advance, “A” and “D” Companies
leading. There lay before them a gradual ascent dotted with scrub for
about two hundred yards, and then half-a-mile of flat ground, from
which Kidney Hill rose abruptly.
The Turkish trenches were invisible and consequently there was little
attempt to subdue the enemy by a fire fight. The platoons went
straight forward, racing over the exposed patches, losing officers
and men at every step. The fire grew hotter and hotter and men fell
more and more quickly, but still the front line pressed only to be
swept out of existence. The distance was too far to cover in a single
rush, and no troops in the world could cross the five hundred yards
in front of the enemy’s trenches at a walk and live. The supports
came up and another attempt was made, but again the lines melted
away. The task was one impossible of achievement, for it is now known
that against modern weapons in the hands of an undemoralised enemy,
a frontal attack by daylight on an entrenched position a thousand
yards away is certain to fail. Yet even when they had failed, the 5th
Inniskillings did not fall back. Nearly all the officers were down,
but little groups of men still clustered in the bushes waiting for
orders. They could not advance; they would not retire until they were
told to. Lieutenant G. B. Lyndon, of the 6th Inniskillings, went out
after sunset and collected many of these little parties and brought
them in. For this he received the Military Cross. Invaluable service,
too, was done by the stretcher-bearers of the battalions and field
ambulances, who here, as everywhere, showed themselves fearless and
tireless in the performance of their duties.
[Illustration: THE ANAFARTA PLAIN
(_From a water colour by Captain Drummond Fish, Royal Irish Rifles_)]
The casualty list was a terribly heavy one. Colonel Vanrenen, of the
5th Inniskillings, was killed, and so were Captain Robinson, Captain
Vernon, Lieutenant McCormack, Lieutenant Nelis, and Lieutenant Grubb
of the same unit. Both its Majors were wounded, together with two
captains and nearly a dozen subalterns. The losses among the rank
and file were in proportion, and the whole organisation of the
regiment was temporarily shattered. The 6th Inniskillings, who were
in support, had been heavily shelled, but had been lucky in escaping
severe loss.
The result of the failure of the right attack was that while we
held the northern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt up to and even
beyond the Pimple, yet on the Southern face of the hill we had been
unable to advance our line much beyond the trenches which we held
when operations on the 15th began. As a consequence, the line held
by the Division somewhat resembled a Z. The upper horizontal was
represented by a line of trench running from the Gulf of Saros to the
most advanced point on the crest of the ridge that was reached by the
charge of the 6th Munsters and 6th Dublins. This trench was exposed
to fire not only from the hills which continued the line of the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt eastward, but also from a spur known as 103, which
ran northwards into the sea. The diagonal joining the two horizontals
of the Z was represented by a line running along the northern or
seaward slope of Kiretch Tepe Sirt just below the crest. The crest
itself, since it was liable to be swept by shrapnel and machine-gun
fire, and since its rocky nature made it difficult to entrench, was
not held except at the lower horizontal, which represented the trench
running past Jephson’s Post, from which the attack had begun. The
position thus created was clearly far harder to hold than if it had
been merely a trench running across the ridge from North to South,
and would obviously require far more men. The two battalions from the
Reserve were, therefore, called up without delay.
The 7th Dublins had begun to move forward already, and were advancing
under circumstances of some difficulty. The enemy’s artillery were
shelling the line behind our position with considerable vigour, and
in addition snipers were more than usually active. One of these
pests, who was ensconced in a bush, succeeded in shooting Colonel
Downing in the foot, and though the Colonel promptly retaliated
with his revolver, and insisted that the wound was trivial, he
found himself unable to walk and was compelled to leave his beloved
battalion. Major Harrison took over command of the Unit.
After the reserves came up, the dispositions made for the defence
of the line running just below the crest of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt
were as follows:—The extreme end to the eastward was held by the 6th
Royal Irish Fusiliers; next to them came the 6th Munsters, and beyond
them “D,” “A” and “C” Companies of the 7th Dublins. “B” Company of
the last-named regiment had been sent down the hill on the seaward
side to dig a trench covering Hill 103. The 6th Dublins, who had
sustained heavy losses in the charge, were withdrawn to rest. These
dispositions were adopted just before nightfall. The soil of the
ridge was too stony to admit of much entrenching, and in most cases
the men lay down on their arms just behind the crest on the seaward
side, though in one or two spots stone _sangars_ were constructed.
They were given but little time to work before they were attacked.
The knowledge that no advance had been made on any part of the plain
below made it possible for the enemy to employ a large proportion of
his reserves in the recovery of the ground lost on the Kiretch Tepe
Sirt, while the fact that the Southern slope of the hill was still in
his possession enabled him to push men along it to attack any portion
of our long, thinly-held line at close quarters.
The first of the hostile counter-attacks began about 10 p.m., when
a wave of Turks who had crept along the landward slope and up to
the crest in silence, burst over it with a yell and fell upon the
British line. Fortunately, our men were not taken by surprise; a
roar of musketry at close range received the enemy, and when it came
to bayonet work our _morale_ proved more than sufficient to dispose
of the foe. After a stiff fight, the attackers disappeared over the
crest leaving a good proportion of their numbers behind them on the
ground. Listening posts were then sent out to the further side of
the ridge in order to preclude the possibility of a surprise attack
succeeding, and the remainder of the tired men lay down again, rifle
in hand to secure as much rest as possible.
Little sleep was allowed them. Before the first light of the early
summer dawn began to appear in the sky, the listening posts were
driven in, and a fresh Turkish attack was made. On this occasion the
assault was led by bomb-throwers, and although those who crossed
the crest and came to close quarters were disposed of by the Irish
with rifle and bayonet, yet a considerable force of the enemy,
well-furnished with grenades, succeeded in establishing themselves
on the southern slope of the Kiretch Tepe Sirt. From this position
they proceeded to bomb the whole length of our line incessantly,
throwing the grenades over the crest of the ridge so that they burst
in the midst of our ranks with deadly effect. Had the Fusiliers
been in possession of enough bombs they could have retaliated in
kind, but the few that they had were quickly used, and no more were
forthcoming. Even if they had been, the contest would scarcely have
been a fair one, since the grenade employed by the Turks in Gallipoli
was infinitely superior to that issued to the British. The latter was
an extemporised production, consisting of a detonator inserted in
a jam tin and furnished with a fuse, which had to be lighted with a
match.
The Turkish bomb, which was shaped like a cricket-ball, was both
more accurately fused and easier to throw. However, could they have
been obtained, the Dublins and Munsters and Irish Fusiliers would
have been glad even of jam-tins, since they would have enabled them
to make some reply to the enemy. Rifles and bayonets were useless
against an invisible foe, on the other side of a rocky ridge. The
two forces were, to use a homely comparison, in the position of men
sitting in the gutters of a house and fighting across the roof.
Under these circumstances grenades were obviously the most effective
weapon, and the side that lacked them suffered from an appalling
handicap.
As day broke, officers were able to take stock of the situation,
though the sight that met their eyes was not encouraging. On every
side men had fallen, and the strain on the survivors was appalling,
for the rain of bombs still continued. Here and there individual
officers organised attempts to drive the enemy back at the point
of the bayonet, but without success. A description of one of these
efforts will serve to make clear the fate with which they met. Major
Harrison, of the 7th Dublins, finding that his line was becoming
dangerously thin, determined to try the effect of a charge. He
selected for this purpose a party of “D” Company, “The Pals,” under
the command of Captain Poole Hickman.
The men were only too delighted at the prospect of action, and
charged fearlessly up the hill. As they appeared on the crest,
however, they were met by a storm of concentrated rifle and
machine-gun fire. Captain Poole Hickman fell mortally wounded, but
Major Harrison rushed forward bareheaded and took his place, leading
his men on till they reached the Turkish line. There he was struck by
a grenade thrown at close quarters, and of all the gallant spirits
who had followed him so pluckily only four made their way back over
the crest to their battalions. Similar charges made elsewhere met
with similar results; in some cases a whole platoon disappeared
and was never seen again. Among the officers who were lost in this
way were Captain Grant, 6th Munsters, and Lieutenant Crichton, 7th
Dublins. It was obvious that to cross the crest by daylight meant
death, since the Turks had been able to instal machine-guns in
positions that enfiladed it.
Since advance was impossible, the troops were compelled to remain
on their position, exposed to a perpetual fire of grenades, to
which they had no means of replying. The sun rose higher in the
sky and reached the zenith and still the bombing went on without
intermission, and the men of the 10th Division continued to suffer
and endure. The faces of dead comrades, lying at their sides,
stiffened and grew rigid, and the flies gathered in clouds to feast
on their blood, while from the ridge in front came the groans of the
wounded, whom it was impossible to succour. The men lying behind
the crest knew that at any moment a similar fate might come to any
of them, and they might fall a shattered corpse, or be carried back
moaning, but still they held on. The unceasing noise of the bursting
grenades, the smell of death, the sight of suffering, wore their
nerves to tatters, but worst of all was the feeling that they were
helpless, unable to strike a blow to ward off death and revenge their
comrades.
It is by no means easy to realise what the men felt during this
ordeal. Perhaps the strongest emotion was not the sense of duty,
the prompting of pride, or even the fear of imminent death, but
blind, helpless rage. In a charge or an advance a soldier rarely
feels anger. His whole soul is concentrated on reaching a definite
objective, and though he is prepared to kill anyone who stands in
his way, he does so without passion. The exultation born from rapid
movement, the thrill produced by the sense of achievement, banish all
personal feelings. But lying on the ridge under the pitiless bombing,
watching the mangled bodies of the dead, men had time to think, and
the fruit of their thoughts and of their impotence was black and
bitter hatred of the enemy. They were ready to run any risk in order
to do something to hurt him.
Some tried to catch the Turkish bombs as they were falling and throw
them back into the enemy’s lines before they exploded. Five times
Private Wilkin, of the 7th Dublins, performed this feat, but at the
sixth attempt he was blown to pieces. Elsewhere men, sooner than
lie impotent, took up stones and hurled them at the foe. Everywhere
the few remaining officers moved about among their men, calming the
overeager, encouraging the weary, giving an example of calmness and
leadership, of which the land that bore them may well be proud. In
doing this they made themselves a mark for the inevitable snipers,
who by now had ensconced themselves in coigns of vantage on the crest
of the ridge, and many died there. Thus fell Capt. Tobin, of the 7th
Dublins, a man greatly beloved. Here, too, fell Lieut. Fitzgibbon and
Lieut. Weatherill, of the same regiment. Fitzgibbon, a son of the
Nationalist M.P. for South Mayo, who, in the black days of Ireland’s
past had had many a dispute with the forces of the law, and had now
sent his son to die gloriously in the King’s uniform; Weatherill, a
boy who had made himself conspicuous in a very gallant battalion for
courage. Here, too, many other heroic souls laid down their lives,
but still the line held on.
The sun reached the west and began to sink; the ranks were thin,
the men were weary, and many mangled bodies lay along the fatal
ridge. The 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, exposed both in front and in
flank, had been practically annihilated. Their 5th Battalion came
up to reinforce them and shared their fate. Three officers of this
regiment, Captains Panton and Kidd, and 2nd-Lieut. Heuston, earned
the Military Cross by the inspiring example they gave on this
occasion. The last-named was reported as “wounded and missing,” and
was probably killed in this fight. Nearly all the officers of the
Irish Fusiliers had fallen, and the other regiments were in nearly as
bad a case; but still the line held on. Tired and hungry and thirsty
as they were, unable to strike a blow in their own defence, yet still
the men of the 10th Division were resolved not to retire a step until
the order to do so came. They were but young soldiers, who had had
less than a year’s training, and had received their baptism of fire
only a week earlier; but they were determined that however stern the
ordeal they would not disgrace their regiments.
In old days, in the thick of a hard-contested struggle, men rallied
round the colours—the visible symbol of the regimental honour. There
were no colours to rally round on the slope of the Kiretch Tepe
Sirt, but the regimental name was a talisman that held the battered
ranks to their ground. Their regiments had in the past won great
glory, but neither the men of the 87th who cleared the pine woods
of Barrosa with the cry of “Faugh a Ballagh!” nor the Dublins and
Munsters who leapt from the bows of the “River Clyde” into certain
death, need blush to own comradeship with their newly-raised Service
Battalions, who died on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt.
Darkness at last fell, and the sorely-tried men hoped for relief.
This was indeed at hand, though it did not take the form of fresh
troops. None were available, so the units of the division who had
suffered heavily in the charge of the previous day, and who had
had less than twenty-four hours’ rest, were called up again. The
6th Dublins, and with them the 5th Royal Irish (Pioneers), took
over the line of the ridge from the battalions who had held it so
stoutly. Nor were their sufferings less, for throughout the night
the bombing continued, and our men were still unable to make any
effective retaliation. Many officers and men fell, but the remainder
set their teeth and held their ground, until at last they received
the order to withdraw from the untenable position. Not a man moved
until he received the order, and then slowly, deliberately, almost
reluctantly, they retired. Bullets fell thickly among them, and
took a heavy toll, one of those killed being 2nd-Lieut. W. Nesbitt,
a young officer of the 6th Dublins, who, though junior in rank, had
made a tremendous impression by his character, and had earned the
name of “the Soul of the Battalion.” Before he was hit, the 6th
Dublins had had Major Preston and their Adjutant, Capt. Richards,
killed, and in the course of these operations three subalterns,
2nd-Lieut. Clery, 2nd-Lieut. Stanton, and 2nd-Lieut. McGarry, were
reported missing. Probably they died in some unseen struggle, and
their bones now lie in a nameless, but honoured grave on the field
where their regiment won such fame.
Gradually the shattered units withdrew to their original line, but
when the roll was called there were many names unanswered. The charge
on the 15th had cost many lives, the holding of the captured position
very many more, and yet all the effort and all the suffering seemed
to have been futile. The 10th Division had been shattered, the work
of a year had been destroyed in a week, and nothing material had been
gained. Yet all was not in vain. It is no new thing for the sons of
Ireland to perish in a forlorn hope and a fruitless struggle; they go
forth to battle only to fall, yet there springs from their graves a
glorious memory for the example of future generations. Kiretch Tepe
Sirt was a little-known fight in an unlucky campaign, but if the
young soldiers of the 10th Division who died there added a single
leaf to Ireland’s crown of cypress and laurel, their death was not in
vain.