ROUTINE
“Scars given and taken without spite or shame, for the Turk be it
said is always at his best at that game.”
—_G. K. Chesterton._
Before continuing to describe the doings of the 30th and 31st
Brigades after their withdrawal from the Kiretch Tepe Sirt, a word
must be said about the units which were attached to them, the Pioneer
Battalion, the Royal Engineers and the Field Ambulances. Details of
the movements of these units are hard to obtain, but it would not be
fair to overlook them.
The Pioneer Battalion, the 5th Royal Irish Regiment, was trained as
an infantry unit but also received instruction in engineering work,
especially in road-making. The majority of its men were miners or
artificers and its function was to do the odd jobs of the Division
and also to provide a guard for Divisional Headquarters. On the
Peninsula, however, these duties soon fell into abeyance, since it
was called on to fill up gaps in the line, and did so eagerly. It
was an exceptionally fine battalion, formed by Lord Granard, whose
ancestor, Sir Arthur Forbes, had first raised the 18th (Royal Irish)
two hundred and thirty years before, and possessed an unusually large
proportion of Regular officers. Fighting under difficult conditions,
usually by detached companies, it did well wherever it was engaged,
losing Lieutenants Costello and MacAndrew killed, and Major Fulda,
Captain Morel, and half-a-dozen subalterns wounded.
The Engineers at Suvla, as everywhere, fully justified the splendid
reputation of their corps. Few braver actions were noted in the
Division than Lieutenant Waller’s rescue of three wounded men on the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt, and throughout the campaign the Sappers defied
danger and did their duty.
The 30th Field Ambulance, which disembarked at Suvla without its
bearer section on the afternoon of the 7th, was, for the first ten
days of the campaign, working single-handed. Then the 31st and 32nd
arrived and the pressure became less, but all the ambulances were
working under great difficulties. There was little room for them,
they had been unable to bring all their stores with them, and, as
will be told later, medical comforts were conspicuous by their
absence. In spite of these handicaps, they had to deal, not only with
a very large number of wounded, but with a never ceasing flow of
sick. The doctors, however, did admirable work and everyone was loud
in praise of the Ambulance stretcher-bearers who used regularly to go
out under heavy fire across the plain to bring in the wounded.
After the close of the fighting on August 17th, what was left of
the 30th and 31st Brigades was withdrawn to the rest-camp on the
beach at Suvla. The fighting had reduced their strength terribly
and nearly three-quarters of the officers and half the men who had
landed ten days earlier, had fallen or been invalided. Worst of all,
was the fact that, owing to so many senior N.C.O.’s having been hit,
the internal organization of units had been practically destroyed.
An extemporized Company Quartermaster-Sergeant, who possesses
no previous knowledge of his work, will rarely be successful in
promoting the comfort and efficiency of his men, however hard he may
try. Matters were made even more serious by the continued sickness,
which became worse and worse when units were withdrawn from the front
line. Many who had been able to force their will power to keep them
going on, while actually opposed to the enemy, now succumbed, and
among them an officer, whose departure inflicted a serious loss on
the Division as a whole and on the 31st Brigade in particular.
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL J. G. KING-KING, D.S.O.]
On August 22nd, General Hill, who had been in bad health ever since
landing in Gallipoli, was invalided, suffering from acute dysentery.
His departure was deeply regretted by his Brigade, who had learnt
to admire his coolness and courage, and to appreciate his constant
attention to their comfort. Though the Staff Captain of the Brigade,
Captain T. J. D. Atkinson, had been wounded on the 16th, fortunately
the Brigade-Major, Captain Cooke-Collis, still remained, and as the
command was taken over by Colonel King-King the General Staff Officer
(1) of the Division, officers and men did not feel that they had to
deal with a stranger.
It was marvellous how many men who were in bad health, resisted
the temptation to go sick and be sent on board the white hospital
ships, where there was shade and ice and plenty to drink. No man was
invalided who was not sick, but there were very few people doing duty
in Gallipoli who did not from time to time possess a temperature,
and none whose stomachs were not periodically out of order. The
doctors did their utmost to retain men with their units, but all
medical comforts were difficult to obtain, even condensed milk being
precious, and to feed men sickening for dysentery on tinned meat,
is to ask for trouble. Rice was a great stand-by, though the men
did not much appreciate it unless it was boiled in milk. It was
therefore inevitable that men reporting sick should be sent to the
field ambulances, and since these were little better off than the
regimental M.O.’s so far as provision for special diet was concerned,
and since their resources were overtaxed, it followed that it was
almost invariably necessary to send invalids away overseas. Though
all ranks belonging to them showed the utmost devotion to duty, and
worked till they were worn out, a field-ambulance at Suvla was not a
place in which a quick recovery could be made. True, it had tents,
and it is hard to appreciate the amount of solid comfort offered by
a tent to one who has spent weeks in the open under a tropical sun.
There were also a certain number of beds, and it was very pleasant to
find doctors and orderlies taking an interest in you, and doing their
best to make you comfortable.
There were, however, discomforts which they were powerless to remove.
One was the swarm of flies which made sleep by day impossible, and
another was the shortage of water. The worst, however, was the enemy
fire: for although the Turk respected the Red Cross flag, yet the
hospitals were close to the beach, and not far from some of our
batteries, which naturally drew the enemy’s artillery. The sound of
the shells rushing through the air, and the shock of their explosion
were plainly heard and felt by the patients in hospital, and threw an
additional strain on nerves that were already worn out. It could not
be helped; there was no room on the peninsula to put hospitals at a
distance from fighting troops, but it was very hard on the sick and
wounded.
Gradually, however, things grew better. Medical comforts began to be
forthcoming; fresh bread was baked at Imbros and sent across, milk
was less scarce, and a few eggs were issued not only to hospitals,
but in some cases to medical officers of battalions. They also
obtained a compound known as tinned fowl, which appeared to consist
entirely of bones. Fly whisks and veils were provided by the British
Red Cross, an organization to which the soldier owes more than he
will ever be able to say. By the flexibility of its management, and
its freedom from red tape, it has done wonders to secure the speedier
recovery of our wounded.
The rest-camp to which the residue of the nine battalions came, was
somewhat of a jest. It was situated on the beach, and consisted of
a collection of shallow dug-outs burrowed into the yielding sand.
As it was close to some of the extemporized piers at which the
lighters bearing the rations and ammunition were unloaded, and was
in the neighbourhood of the A.S.C. and Ordnance Depôts, it naturally
attracted a good share of the shells which the Turks directed at
those points, and casualties were by no means infrequent. However,
the men were able to take off the clothes which they had worn for
nearly a fortnight, and wash. Some shaved, but others thought it
waste of time and also of the more precious water. Bathing was
possible, for the sea was close by, and the delight of plunging into
the warm sparkling sea was hardly diminished by the thought that a
Turkish shell might possibly find you out as you did so.
The period in the rest-camp gave an opportunity of writing home,
and describing, as far as the censorship permitted, the events of
the previous week. It was clear that the first attempt at Suvla had
not been successful, but reinforcements were arriving nightly, a
new General (Major-General H. B. de Lisle) had taken over command
of the 9th Corps, and everyone was hoping for eventual success. In
this they were much assisted by rumour, which produced scores of
encouraging “shaves.” Occasionally one heard that General Botha with
a large force of Boers, had landed at Helles, but the favourite and
apparently best-authenticated report, was that an army of 150,000
Italians had landed at Bulair and were taking the Turks in reverse.
It did not seem to occur to any of those who circulated this report
that their guns must have been heard at Suvla if they were really
doing so. By this time, however, most sensible people had discovered
that nothing is ever so thoroughly well-authenticated as a thoroughly
baseless rumour, and believed nothing that they were told. At any
rate the “_canards_” gave a subject for conversation, and helped to
pass the time.
On August 21st, General de Lisle proposed to take the offensive
again, having been reinforced from Egypt and Helles. Although the
Turks had by now brought up ample reinforcements, and carefully
entrenched their whole line, it was thought that it might be possible
to capture Ismail Oglu Tepe, a wooded hill, which buttressed the
Khoja Chemen Tepe. This attack General de Lisle entrusted to the
11th and 29th Divisions, the latter being on the left. The 53rd
and 54th Territorial Divisions were to hold the remainder of the
line northwards to the Gulf of Saros, including the trenches on the
Kiretch Tepe Sirt. The newly-landed 2nd Mounted Division (Yeomanry)
and the two brigades of the 10th Division, which had suffered so
heavily in the previous fighting as to be almost unfit for further
aggressive action, were placed in Corps Reserve. At the same time the
co-operation of the Anzac troops, which took the form of the attack
on Kaba Kuyu and Hill 60, and was described in the previous chapter,
was arranged for.
The 10th Division was disposed as follows:—
The 31st Brigade, which was allotted as reserve to the 29th Division,
formed up behind Hill 10 on the northern shores of the Salt Lake.
There was very little cover, and the 6th Inniskilling Fusiliers,
who found themselves in rear of one of our batteries, suffered
severely from the shell fire with which the Turks retaliated on it.
The 30th Brigade were at Lala Baba at the south-western angle of
the Lake. At 3 p.m. the attack was launched, and the front line of
Turkish trenches were occupied. Atmospheric conditions, however,
were unfavourable, and further progress was only made with great
difficulty, the 11th Division, which had been much weakened by
previous fighting, finding it almost impossible to get on. The
reserves were then called up, and the Yeomen went forward across the
bare shell-swept plain.
[Illustration: 5TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS IN THE TRENCHES
_Official photograph issued on behalf of the Press Bureau, Crown
copyright reserved_]
The long extended lines suffered heavily as they moved forward to
a position in rear of Chocolate Hill, but though they were young
troops who had never been in action before, there was no wavering,
and the formation was preserved throughout. About the same time
the 30th Brigade received orders to advance and occupy the Turkish
trenches, which had been captured at the commencement of operations.
As they moved forward to do this they, too, came under a heavy
fire of shrapnel and sustained numerous casualties, among them
being Lieut.-Col. Worship, of the 6th Munster Fusiliers, who was
wounded in the foot. The most active part in these operations,
however, so far as the 10th Division was concerned, was taken by
the stretcher-bearers of the three Field Ambulances, who had just
arrived. Again and again they went out over the shell-swept plain,
picking up the wounded of the 11th and 29th Divisions, and bringing
them back to the hospitals on the beach. The work was not only
hot and heavy, but dangerous, since although the Turk proved a fair
fighter on the whole and respected the Red Cross, yet his shrapnel
could not discriminate between fighters and non-combatants. Good
and plucky work done on this occasion earned the D.C.M. for Staff
Sergeant Hughes and Corporal Fitch, of the 30th Field Ambulance.
On the following day, the two brigades moved southward, and took over
the front line trenches, the two Inniskilling battalions being just
north of Chocolate Hill, with the Royal Irish Fusiliers on their
right, and the 30th Brigade prolonging the line to the southward.
At the same time, Divisional Headquarters were transferred from
the Kiretch Tepe Sirt to Lala Baba. While the Division was holding
this southern sector, it very nearly came in touch with part of its
detached Brigade operating to the north of Anzac; and the 6th Dublin
Fusiliers from their trenches were able to watch the charge of the
5th Connaught Rangers on August 27th. The 29th Brigade, however,
remained under the orders of the Anzac Command.
After the fight of the 27th-28th of August, described in the last
chapter, this Brigade also became incapable of further aggressive
action. Every battalion had lost about three-quarters of its
strength, while the casualties in the commissioned ranks had been
exceptionally heavy. Sickness was bad here, as elsewhere, and early
in September three out of the four units composing the Brigade had
only two officers apiece left. The 6th Leinsters were in better case;
but even with them, sickness was taking its toll—Major Currey, the
C.O., being one of the victims. He was succeeded by Major Colquhoun.
The battalion remained with the New Zealand and Australian Division,
doing duty in the trenches at “Russell’s Top” until August 26th, when
it withdrew to Anzac and joined the Royal Irish Rifles in “Reserve
Gully.”
The Rifles and Hampshires, which suffered terribly in the Sari Bair
fighting, were retained behind the Aghyl Dere line for about a week
after the 10th August. Then the Rifles returned to Anzac, where it
took up its quarters in Reserve Gully. After the feint attack on
August 21st, in which they suffered so heavily, the 10th Hampshires
were also withdrawn to the beach, bivouacking near No. 2 Post. The
Brigade was completed by the arrival of the 5th Connaught Rangers,
who, after the assault on Hill 60 on the 27th August, remained in
reserve for a week and then moved back to a bivouac on Bauchop’s Hill.
Though two companies of the Royal Irish Rifles were lent to General
Walker, of the Australians, and did duty for him for three weeks,
the bulk of the Brigade were employed on fatigue duties. These
included road-making, unloading ration boats, and guarding Turkish
prisoners. The work was hard, the sun still hot, and the enemy’s
shells did not spare the fatigue parties, but casualties were not
heavy.
During this period the 29th Brigade received a new commander. Colonel
Agnew returned to Mudros on September 9th, and on the 22nd September
Brigadier-General R. S. Vandeleur, C.M.G., who had come from the
Seaforth Highlanders in France, took over command. Major T. G.
Anderson, R.F.A., had previously been appointed Brigade-Major.
While in many respects fighting in Gallipoli was more unpleasant than
in France or Flanders, yet its trench warfare had certain advantages
over that engaged in there. Though the heat by day and the cold by
night were trying, yet there was but little rain, and it was easy to
keep the trenches dry. Except on the Kiretch Tepe Sirt and close to
the sea, the soil was firm, so that the sides of trenches did not
require much revetment, and repairs were not constantly called for.
Above all, the character of the enemy gave the defender an easier
time.
The Turk is inflexibly stubborn in defence, and when stirred up to
make a mass attack, he appears fearless of death: but he is not an
enterprising foe. Except at one or two points—notably at Apex and
at Quinn’s Post in the Anzac area, where the opposing trench lines
were close together, and trench mortars and bomb-throwers raged
perpetually—he was content to leave the enemy to the attention of
his snipers. These, of course, were persistent and ingenious, and
any point in a trench which could be overlooked, either from a tree
or from high ground in the enemy’s lines, required to be specially
defended. Otherwise, however, the Turk was not much disposed to
institute aggressive enterprises, and his bombardments, though
intensely annoying, and causing a good many casualties, were not
to be compared in intensity with those employed by the Germans in
Flanders.
Trench life, however much its details may be mitigated, is none the
less painfully monotonous, and in the Peninsula there were none of
the distractions sometimes experienced on the Western Front. There
were only two breaks in the tedium: the arrival of the mail and a
visit from a chaplain. The latter should perhaps have precedence,
both out of respect for his cloth and because it happened more
frequently. Walking about at Anzac and Suvla was neither pleasant
nor safe; but the chaplains were quite indefatigable, and would walk
any distance and brave any danger in order to visit the units to
which they were attached. By dint of untiring endeavour, the Church
of England and Roman Catholic chaplains used, as a rule, to hold a
service for each of the battalions in their charge on Sunday, and one
during the week as well. Sometimes these services took place right
up in the firing line, the celebrant moving along the trench to each
communicant in turn. It was in this manner Canon McLean celebrated
Holy Communion for the 6th and 7th Dublins an hour before the advance
on the 15th of August. Often, too, the priests were able to give
absolution to their flock before they went into action. Besides doing
this, the Roman Catholic chaplains heard confessions regularly, and
all denominations were indefatigable in ministering to the sick.
Apart, however, from the spiritual side of the question, the mere
presence of the “Padre” himself was stimulating. The Division
had been exceptionally fortunate in its chaplains. The robust
cheerfulness of Father Murphy, the recondite knowledge of Father
Stafford, Father O’Farrell’s boyish keenness, and the straightforward
charm that made Father O’Connor such a good sportsman and such a
good friend, were coupled with a fearlessness and devotion to duty
common to all, that made them beloved by their own flock and liked
and respected by those of other creeds. There was but little colour
in Gallipoli; grey olives, bleached scrub and parched sand combined
to make a picture in monotone, and, even to the Protestant eye it was
grateful to see, as the one gleam of colour in a dreary landscape,
the shining golden chasuble of the priest as he celebrated Mass.
Few who beheld those services will ever forget them; the circle
of kneeling worshippers, the robed figure in the centre, the long
shadows cast by the newly-risen sun, and the drone of the shells
passing through the air overhead, made an ineffaceable impression on
the mind.
Nor were the Protestant chaplains behind their Roman Catholic
colleagues in zeal and cheerfulness. The Reverend S. Hutchinson
in the 31st Brigade, and the Reverend J. W. Crozier (a son of the
Primate of All Ireland) in the 29th, worked untiringly and devotedly
for the good of the men who belonged to the Church of England. Nor
should the Reverend F. J. Roche, who was Church of England Chaplain
to the Divisional Troops, be forgotten. Originally, he was sent to
Cairo with the Artillery of the Division; but he had seen service
in South Africa in the Imperial Yeomanry, and was mad to get into
the firing line once more. By dint of many entreaties and much
ingenuity, he finally succeeded in reaching Suvla on August 29th,
and laboured unceasingly with the Pioneers and Royal Engineers. He
was a man of exceptionally high character, and all who knew him were
grieved when two days before the Division left the Peninsula he was
invalided with dysentery. Unfortunately, the attack was a severe one,
and after rallying slightly he died in hospital at Alexandria. The
Presbyterian and Methodist chaplains, too, did excellent work, though
since their flock was so widely scattered they had less opportunity
of becoming personally known to those outside it.
The jewel of the Protestant chaplains, however, was Canon McLean.
Although he must have been nearly sixty years of age, and was
probably the oldest man in the Division, he had the heart of a boy
and the courage of a lion. No dangers or hardships were too great for
him to endure, and his one regret was that his cloth did not permit
him to lead his Brigade in a charge. He had, too, the more valuable
form of courage—the power of patient endurance, for though seriously
ill with dysentery, he absolutely refused to go sick and leave his
men. There were many brave fellows in the Division, but none gained a
greater reputation for courage than Canon McLean.
The second great alleviation of the monotony of trench life was the
arrival of the mail. In France, this happens daily, and is taken as a
matter of course; but in Gallipoli it rarely arrived more often than
once a week, and great joy was felt in the battalions when Brigade
headquarters telephoned that a mail was coming up. Expectation grew,
until at last the Indian _drabis_ led up their grunting mules, and
deposited the mail-bags at the door of the Headquarters dug-out.
Orderly sergeants of the companies were at once summoned, and the
slow process of sorting began—a process made even slower by the fact
that in many cases the writers had not indicated anything more than
the name of the addressee, and that it took a considerable time in an
Irish regiment to ascertain which Private Kelly was meant.
“The postmark’s Glasgow. Is either of your Kelly’s a Scotsman,
Sergeant McGrath?” the Adjutant would say.
“They are not, sorr. One’s a Mayo man and the other’s from Dublin.
Try ‘B’ Company, sorr.”
The Orderly Sergeant of “B” also disclaims any Scotch Kelly, but is
reminded by the signalling sergeant of a Glasgow man of that name
who went sick from Mudros. Repeated _ad infinitum_ this process
takes time, and it was long before the officer who had undertaken
the sorting could turn to his own correspondence. Then followed the
painful task of returning the letters that could not be delivered.
These were sent back from companies to the orderly-room and were
there sorted into three piles:—
Dead,
Missing, and
Hospital.
The officer then endorsed each, writing the word in an indelible
pencil, always dreading that by some accident this might be the
first intimation of the casualty that the sender of the letter had
received. The “Hospital” letters, of course, were not returned to
the writer, but were sent in pursuit of the addressee round Mudros,
Malta, and Alexandria, usually returning to the Battalion after he
had rejoined it.
Nor did one’s own mail consist entirely of personal letters, for
the officers who survived found themselves in September receiving
many letters from the relatives of their comrades who had fallen
begging for details of how they died. These letters were not easy to
answer, since details were often lacking, and the writer was always
afraid of inadvertently opening the wound again; but it was a labour
of love to reply to them. More amusing semi-official letters were
also received, such as the demands of railway companies for sums of
three-and-sixpence due by men who had travelled without tickets four
months earlier. As even supposing the men in question had not been
killed or wounded, they had certainly received no pay for more than
a month, and were unlikely to receive any for an indefinite period,
so the prospect that the Company Officer would be able to recover the
debts before being killed or wounded himself did not seem large.
With the mail came newspapers and sometimes parcels. The latter
were specially welcome, since they served to fill up the nakedness
of the officers’ mess, and as a rule they arrived safely when sent
by parcels post. Complaints of non-arrival of parcels were indeed
frequent, but in most cases this was caused either by inaccurate
addressing, or by careless packing. Very seldom was a parcels
mail-bag opened for sorting at the battalion without the bottom
being found to be filled with broken cigarettes, crumbs of crushed
cake, and a mass of cardboard, brown paper and string. It must be
remembered that the mails had to stand a good deal of rough handling.
The bags were sent by ship to Alexandria, then thrown on to a lorry
and jolted over the stony streets to the Base Post Office, there
sorted, sent on shipboard again, conveyed to Mudros, transhipped to
Suvla, Anzac, or Helles, thrown overboard on to a lighter, dumped on
the beach, and finally carried up to their destination on the back of
a pack mule. It was not astonishing that a parcel was occasionally
crushed, or even that a bag sometimes fell into the sea. Under normal
conditions, however, parcels usually arrived safely.
The arrival of parcels meant a welcome addition to mess stores,
for although the A.S.C. had recovered from the natural confusion
caused by the operations at the beginning of August, and rations
were regular and plentiful, yet the diet became painfully dull. It
must be remembered that in Gallipoli, unlike the Western Front,
there was absolutely no possibility of using the resources of the
country. In France, it is often possible to buy eggs, butter, and
perhaps a chicken, not to speak of wine or beer; but on the Peninsula
there was literally nothing obtainable. From Suvla the distant
houses of the Anafartas mocked the eye with the sight of human
habitations; but Anzac was literally a desert. The map, it is true,
marked a spot as “Fisherman’s Hut,” but both fishermen and their
nets had departed, and the huts had fallen into ruin. Nor did Nature
supply anything—except where the trampled stubble told of a ruined
cornfield, all was barren, dry scrub, and prickly holly and bare,
thankless sand. With such destitution all round, it was no wonder
that the post was eagerly looked for.
The most welcome gift of all was tinned fruit, since these and the
syrup that came with them quenched thirst. Lemonade tablets, too,
were welcome, and sauces and curry-powders to disguise the taste of
the eternal bully beef, were much appreciated. Some things failed to
stand the climate; chocolate usually arrived in a liquid condition,
while a parcel of butter became a greasy rag. (It must be borne in
mind while reading this description of life in Gallipoli that the
Expeditionary Force Canteens were not established there till after
the 10th Division had left the Peninsula. They did a great deal to
fill the want, though it was almost impossible to keep them properly
stocked.)
Although life in September was distinctly less trying than it was in
August, yet it had its disadvantages. Among them was the fact that
wherever a battalion occupied an old Turkish bivouac, it found that
the enemy had left behind a peculiarly ferocious breed of flea. There
were other minor annoyances in washing; but the main disadvantage
of Gallipoli unquestionably was the uncertainty of life. The whole
Peninsula was exposed to shell fire, and much of it to snipers as
well, and though some places were less dangerous than others, it was
impossible ever to feel that one was safe. Every day almost one heard
of a fresh casualty. Now an orderly was hit as he brought a message;
now a cook fell as he bent over his fire; another day the storeman
looking after kits on the beach was killed; or a shell made havoc
among a party drawing rations or water.
Drawing rations was one of the most dangerous occupations on the
Peninsula, especially at Anzac, and was usually performed at the
double. The beaches, where the supply depôts were situated, were
among the enemy’s favourite targets, as they knew that there were
always people moving there, and they shelled them persistently. In
France, the A.S.C. are said to have safe and “cushy” jobs; but this
was certainly not the case in Gallipoli. Their work, in addition
to being dangerous, was not exciting, which made things worse; for
though Death is the same wherever he comes, it is easier to encounter
him in a charge than when cutting up bacon. The memory of the courage
of their representatives at Suvla and Anzac should always be a proud
one with the A.S.C.
But though the beaches were particularly nasty spots, there was no
escaping from Death anywhere. If one took a walk one was almost
certain to pass a festering and fly-blown mule, or a heap of
equipment that showed where a man had been wounded. At one point a
barricade of sandbags suggested that it was wise to keep in close
to them, at another a deep sap had been dug to allow secure passage
through an area commanded by the Chunuk Bair. The blind impartiality
of shrapnel spared no one: the doctor of one battalion sent a man
to hospital who was suffering from bronchitis, and was surprised to
discover afterwards that when admitted he was suffering from a wound
in the right arm which he had acquired on the way down. Even if one
remained in one’s own bivouac or trench, there was no assurance of
safety. It was always possible that a sudden shell might catch one
outside one’s dug-out and finish one. Several fell in this way,
among them one of the finest officers in the Division, Major N. C.
K. Money of the Connaught Rangers. He was a magnificent soldier,
always cool and resourceful, and had made his mark on every occasion
on which his battalion was engaged. After coming untouched through
three stiff fights, and being awarded the D.S.O. for his courage and
capacity, he was mortally wounded in bivouac by an unexpected burst
of shrapnel. It was a miserable end for one who had done so much, and
was destined, had he lived, to do so much more.
After a few weeks on the Peninsula one grew into a fatalistic mood.
Most of one’s friends had already been knocked out, and it seemed
impossible that in the long run anyone could escape. Sooner or later
the shrapnel was bound to get you, unless dysentery or enteric got
you first. If you were unlucky, you would be killed; if lucky, you
would get a wound that would send you either home, or at any rate to
Malta or Alexandria, or some other civilized place. Only one thing
seemed out of the question, and that was that one should see the end
of the campaign. Certainly very few of us did.