MAKING GOOD
_27th April, 1915. Getting on for midnight. H.M.S. "Queen Elizabeth."_
All sorts of questions and answers. At 2 a.m. got a signal from Admiral
Guépratte, "Situation at Kum Kale excellent, but d'Amade gave orders to
re-embark. It has begun. Much regret it is not in my power to stop it."
Well, so do I regret it. With just one more Brigade at our backs we
would have taken Yeni Shahr and kept our grip on Kum Kale; helping along
the Fleet; countering the big guns from Asia. But, there it is; as
things are I was right, and beggars can't be choosers. The French are
now free to land direct at Sedd-el-Bahr, or "V," instead of round by
"W."
During the small hours I wrote a second cable to K. telling him
Hunter-Weston could not attack Achi Baba yesterday as his troops were
worn out and some of his Battalions had lost a quarter of their
effectives: also that we were already short of ammunition. Also that
"Sedd-el-Bahr was a dreadful place to carry by open assault, being a
labyrinth of rocks, galleries, ruins and entanglements." "With all the
devoted help of the Navy, it has taken us a day's hard fighting to make
good our footing. Achi Baba Hill, only a cannon shot distant, will be
attacked to-morrow, the 28th."
After shipping ammunition for her big guns the _Q.E._ sailed at 7 a.m.
for Gaba Tepe where we found Birdwood's base, the beach, being very
severely shelled. The fire seemed to drop from half the points of the
compass towards that one small strip of sand, so marvellously well
defiladed by nature that nine-tenths of the shot fell harmlessly into
the sea. The Turkish gunners had to chance hitting something by lobbing
shrapnel over the main cliff or one of the two arm-like promontories
which embraced the little cove,--and usually they didn't! Yet even so
the beach was hardly a seaside health resort and it was a comfort to see
squads of these young soldiers marching to and fro and handling packing
cases with no more sign of emotion than railway porters collecting
luggage at Margate.
At 7.55 we presented the Turks with some remarkable specimens of sea
shells to recompense them for their trouble in so narrowly searching our
beaches. They accepted our 6 inchers with a very good grace. Often one
of our H.E. hundred pounders seemed to burst just where a field gun had
been spotted:--and before our triumphant smiles had time to disentangle
themselves from our faces, the beggars would open again. But the 15-inch
shrapnel, with its 10,000 bullets, was a much more serious projectile.
The Turks were not taking more than they could help. Several times we
silenced a whole battery by one of these monsters. No doubt these very
batteries are now getting back into concealed positions where our
ships' guns will not be able to find them. Still, even so, to-day and
to-morrow are the two most ticklish days; after that, let the storm
come--our troops will have rooted themselves firmly into the soil.
Have been speaking to the sailors about getting man-killing H.E. shell
for the Mediterranean Squadron instead of the present armour piercers
which break into only two or three pieces and are, therefore, in the
open field, more alarming than deadly. They don't seem to think there
would be much good gained by begging for special favours through routine
channels. Officialdom at the Admiralty is none too keen on our show. If
we can get at Winston himself, then we can rely on his kicking red tape
into the waste-paper basket; otherwise we won't be met half way. As for
me, I am helpless. I cannot write Winston--not on military business;
least of all on Naval business. I am fixed, I won't write to any public
personage re my wants and troubles excepting only K. Braithwaite agrees
that, especially in war time, no man can serve two masters. There has
been so much stiletto work about this war, and I have so often blamed
others for their backstairs politics, that I must chance hurt feelings
and shall not write letters although several of the Powers that Be have
told me to keep them fully posted. The worst loss is that of Winston's
ear; high principles won't obtain high explosives. As to writing to the
Army Council--apart from K., the War Office is an oubliette.
The foregoing sage reflections were jotted down between 10 and 10.30
a.m., when I was clapped into solitary confinement under armour. An
aeroplane had reported that the _Goeben_ had come into the Narrows,
presumably to fire over the Peninsula with her big guns. There was no
use arguing with the sailors; they treat me as if I were a mascot. So I
was duly shut up out of harm's way and out of their way whilst they made
ready to take on the ship, which is just as much the cause of our Iliad
as was Helen that of Homer's. Up went our captive balloon; in ten
minutes it was ready to spot and at 10.15 we got off the first shot
which missed the _Goeben_ by just a few feet to the right. The enemy
then quickly took cover behind the high cliffs and I was let out of my
prison. Some Turkish transports remained, landing troops. Off flew the
shell, seven miles it flew; over the Turkish Army from one sea into
another. A miss! Again she let fly. This time from the balloon came down
that magic formula "O.K." (plumb centre). We danced for joy though
hardly able really to credit ourselves with so magnificent a shot: but
it was so: in two minutes came another message saying the transport was
sinking by the stern! O.K. for us; U.P. with the Turks. Simple letters
to describe a pretty ghastly affair. Fancy that enormous shell dropping
suddenly out of the blue on to a ship's deck swarming with troops!
A wireless from Wemyss to say that the whole of Hunter-Weston's force
has advanced two miles on a broad front and that the enemy made no
resistance.
At 6 p.m. a heavy squall came down from the North and the Aegean was no
place for flyers whether heavier or lighter than air. All the Turkish
guns we could spot from the ship had been knocked out or silenced, so
Birdwood and his men were able to get along with their digging. We cast
anchor off Cape Helles at about 6.30 p.m.
At 7 Hunter-Weston came on board and dined. He is full of confidence and
good cheer. _He never gave any order to evacuate "Y"; he never was
consulted; he does not know who gave the order._ He does well to be
proud of his men and of the way they played up to-day when he called
upon them to press back the enemy. He has had no losses to speak of and
we are now on a fairly broad three-mile front right across the toe of
the Peninsula; about two miles from the tip at Helles. Had our men not
been so deadly weary, there was no reason we should not have taken Achi
Baba from the Turks, who put up hardly any fight at all. But we have not
got our mules or horses ashore yet in any numbers, and the digging, and
carriage of stores, water and munitions to the firing line had to go on
all night, so the men are still as tired as they were on the 26th, or
more so. The Intelligence hear that enemy reinforcements are crossing
the Narrows. So it is a pity we could not make more ground whilst we
were about it, but we had no fresh men to put in and the used Battalions
were simply done to a turn.
We did not talk much about the past at dinner, except--ah me, how
bitterly we regretted our 10 per cent. margin to replace casualties,--a
margin allowed by regulation and afforded to the B.E.F. Just think of
it. To-day each Battalion of the 29th Division would have been joined by
two keen Officers and one hundred keen men--fresh--all of them fresh!
The fillip given would have been far, far greater than that which the
mere numbers (1,200 for the Division) would seem to imply. Hunter-Weston
says that he would sooner have a pick-me-up in that form than two fresh
Battalions, and I think, in saying so, he says too little.
Tired or not tired, we attack again to-morrow. We must make more--much
more--elbow room before the Turks get help from Asia or Constantinople.
Are we to strike before or after daylight? Hunter-Weston is clear for
day and we have made it so. The hour is to be 8 a.m.
Showed H.W. the cable we got at tea time from K., quoting some message
de Robeck has apparently sent home and saying, "Maxwell will give you
any support from the garrison of Egypt you may require." I am puzzled
how to act on this. Maxwell won't give me "any support" I "may require";
otherwise, naturally, I'd have had the Gurkhas with me now: he has his
own show to run: I have my own show to run: it is for K. to split the
differences. K. gave me fair warning before I started I must not embroil
him with French, France, or British politicians by squeezing him for
more troops. It was up to me to take the job on those terms or leave
it--and I took it on. I did think Egypt might be held to be outside
this tacit covenant, but when I asked first, directly, for the Indian
Brigade; secondly, for the Brigade or even for one Gurkha Battalion, I
only got that chilliest of refusals--silence. Since then, there has been
some change in his attitude. I do wish K. would take me more into his
confidence. Never a word to me about the Indian Brigade, yet now it is
on its way! Also, here comes this offer of more troops. Hunter-Weston's
reading of the riddle is that troops ear-marked for the Western front
are still taboo but that K. finds himself, since our successful landing,
in a more favourable political atmosphere and is willing, therefore, to
let us draw on Egypt. He thinks, in a word, that as far as Egypt goes,
we should try and get what we can get.
Said good-night with mutual good wishes, and have worked till now (1
a.m.) answering wireless and interviewing Winter and Woodward, who had
come across from the _Arcadian_ to do urgent administrative work. Each
seems satisfied with the way his own branch is getting on: Winter is the
quicker worker. Wrote out also a second long cable to K. (the first was
operations) formally asking leave to call upon Maxwell to send me the
East Lancs. Division and showing that Maxwell can have my second Mounted
Division in exchange.
Have thought it fair to cable Maxwell also, asking him to hold the East
Lancs. handy. K.'s cable covers me so far. No Commander enjoys parting
with his troops and Maxwell may play on one of the tenderest spots in
K.'s adamantine heart by telling him his darling Egypt will be
endangered; still it is only right to give him fair warning.
Lord Hindlip, King's Messenger, has brought us our mails.
_28th April, 1915. H.M.S. "Queen Elizabeth." Off Gallipoli._ At 9 a.m.
General d'Amade came aboard and gave me the full account of the Kum Kale
landing, a brilliant piece of work which will add lustre even to the
illustrious deeds of France. I hope the French Government will recognize
this dashing stroke of d'Amade's by something more solid than a thank
you.
At 9.40 General Paris and the Staff of the Naval Division also came
aboard, and were telling me their doings and their plans when the noise
of the battle cut short the pow-wow. The fire along the three miles
front is like the rumble of an express train running over fog signals.
Clearly we are not going to gain ground so cheaply as yesterday.
At 10 o'clock the _Q.E._ was steaming slowly Northwards and had reached
a point close to the old "Y" landing place (well marked out by the
glittering kerosine tins). Suddenly, inland, a large mass of men,
perhaps two thousand, were seen doubling down a depression of the ground
heading towards the coast. We had two 15-inch guns loaded with 10,000
shrapnel bullets each, but there was an agony as to whether these were
our fellows falling back or Turks advancing. The Admiral and Keyes asked
me. The Flag Captain was with us. The thing hung on a hair but the
horror of wiping out one of my own Brigades was too much for me: 20 to
1 they were Turkish reinforcements which had just passed through
Krithia--50 to 1 they were Turks--and then--the ground seemed to swallow
them from view. Ten minutes later, they broke cover half a mile lower
down the Peninsula and left us no doubt as to what they were, advancing
as they did in a most determined manner against some of our men who had
their left flank on the cliffs above the sea.
The Turks were no longer in mass but extended in several lines, less
than a pace between each man. Before this resolute attack our men, who
were much weaker, began to fall back. One Turkish Company, about a
hundred strong, was making an ugly push within rifle shot of our ship.
Its flank rested on the very edge of the cliff, and the men worked
forward like German Infantry in a regular line, making a rush of about
fifty yards with sloped arms and lying down and firing. They all had
their bayonets fixed. Through a glass every move, every signal, could be
seen. From where we were our guns exactly enfiladed them. Again they
rose and at a heavy sling trot came on with their rifles at the slope;
their bayonets glittering and their Officer ten yards ahead of them
waving his sword. Some one said they were cheering. Crash! and the
_Q.E._ let fly a shrapnel; range 1,200 yards; a lovely shot; we followed
it through the air with our eyes. Range and fuse--perfect. The huge
projectile exploded fifty yards from the right of the Turkish line, and
vomited its contents of 10,000 bullets clean across the stretch whereon
the Turkish Company was making its last effort. When the smoke and dust
cleared away nothing stirred on the whole of that piece of ground. We
looked for a long time, nothing stirred.
One hundred to the right barrel--nothing left for the second barrel! The
tailor of the fairy tale with his "seven at a blow" is not in it with
the gunnery Lieutenant of a battleship. Our beloved _Queen_ had drawn
the teeth of the Turkish counter-attack on our extreme left. The enemy
no longer dared show themselves over the open downs by the sea, but
worked over broken ground some hundreds of yards inland where we were
unable to see them. The _Q.E._ hung about here shelling the enemy and
trying to help our fellows on for the whole day.
As was signalled to us from the shore by an Officer of the Border
Regiment, the Turks were in great strength somewhere not easy to spot a
few hundred yards inland from "Y" Beach. Some were in a redoubt, others
working down a ravine. A party of our men had actually got into the
trench dug by the "Y" Beach covering party on the day of the landing,
but had been knocked out again, a few minutes before the _Queen
Elizabeth_ came to the rescue, and, in falling back, had been (so the
Officer signaller told us) "badly cut up." Asked again who were being
badly cut up, he replied, "All of us!" No doubt the _Q.E._ turned up in
the very nick of time, at a moment when we were being forced to retire
too rapidly. A certain number of stragglers were slipping quietly back
towards Cape Helles along the narrow sandy strip at the foot of the
high cliffs, so, as it was flat calm, I sent Aspinall off in a small
boat with orders to rally them. He rowed to the South so as to head them
off and as the dinghy drew in to the shore we saw one of them strip and
swim out to sea to meet it half way. By the time the young fellow
reached the boat the cool salt water had given him back his presence of
mind and he explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world,
that he had swum off to get help for the wounded! After landing, a show
of force was needed to pull the fugitives up but once they did pull up
they were splendid, and volunteered to a man to follow Aspinall back
into the firing line. Many of them were wounded and the worst of these
were put into a picket boat which had just that moment come along. One
of the men seemed pretty bad, being hit in the head and in the body. He
wanted to join in but, naturally, was forbidden to do so. Aspinall then
led his little party back and climbed the cliff. When he got to the top
and looked round he found this severely wounded man had not only
disobeyed orders and followed him, but had found strength to lug up a
box of ammunition with him. "I ordered you not to come," said Aspinall:
"I can still pull a trigger, Sir," replied the man.[13]
To-day's experiences have been of the strangest. As armies have grown
and as the range of firearms has increased, the Commander-in-Chief of
any considerable force has been withdrawn further and further from the
fighting. To-day I have stood in the main battery which has fired a shot
establishing, in its way, a record in the annals of destruction.
On our left we had gained three miles and had been driven back a mile or
rather more after doing so, apparently by fresh enemy forces. What would
have been a promenade if our original covering party had stuck to "Y"
Beach, had become too difficult for that wearied and greatly weakened
Brigade. On the British right the 88th Brigade pushed back the Turks
easily enough at first, but afterwards they too came up against stiffer
resistance from what seemed to be fresh enemy formations until at last,
i.e., about mid-day, they were held up. The Reserve were then ordered to
pass through and attack. Small parties are reported to have got into
Krithia and one complete Battalion gained a position commanding
Krithia--so Wemyss has been credibly informed; but things went wrong;
they seem to have been _just_ too weak.
Hunter-Weston is confident as ever and says once his men have dug
themselves in, even a few inches, they will hold what they have gained
against any number of Turks.
We have been handicapped by the trouble that is bred in the bone of any
landing on enemy soil. The General wants to strike quick and hard from
the outset. To do so he must rush his men ashore and by very careful
plans he may succeed; but even then, unless he can lay hands upon
wharves, cranes, and all the mechanical appliances to be found in an
up-to-date harbour, he cannot keep up the supply of ammunition, stores,
food, water, on a like scale. He cannot do this because, just in
proportion as he is successful in getting a large number of men on shore
and in quickly pushing them forward some distance inland, so will it
become too much for his small craft and his beach frontage to cope with
the mule transport and carts. Hence, shortage of ammunition and shortage
of water, which last was the worse felt to-day. But the heavy fighting
at the landings was what delayed us most.
An enemy aeroplane (a Taube) has been dropping bombs on and about the
_River Clyde_.
There is little of the "joy of the contest" in fighting battles with
worn-out troops. Even when the men respond by doing wonders, the
Commander is bound to feel his heart torn in two by their trials, in
addition to having his brain tortured on anxiety's rack as to the
result. The number of Officers we have lost is terrible.
Seen from the Flagship, the sun set exactly behind the purple island of
Imbros, and as it disappeared sent out long flame-coloured streamers
into the sky. The effect was that of a bird of Paradise bringing balm to
our overwrought nerves.
Have published the following order:--
"I rely on all Officers and men to stand firm and steadfast to resist
the attempt of the enemy to drive us back from our present position
which has been so gallantly won.
"The enemy is evidently trying to obtain a local success before
reinforcements can reach us; but the first portion of these arrive
to-morrow and will be followed by a fresh Division from Egypt.
"It behoves us all, French and British, to stand fast, hold what we have
gained, wear down the enemy and thus be prepared for a decisive victory.
"Our comrades in Flanders have had the same experience of fatigue after
hard won fights. We shall, I know, emulate their steadfastness and
achieve a result which will confer added laurels to French and British
arms.
"IAN HAMILTON,
"General."
Two cables from K.:--
The first repeats a cable he has sent Maxwell. He begins by saying, "In
a cable just in from the Dardanelles French Admiral, I see he thinks
reinforcements are needed for the troops landed on Gallipoli. Hamilton
has not made any mention of this to me. All the same yesterday I cabled
him as follows:--"
(Here he quotes the cable already entered in by me yesterday.)
K. goes on, "I hope all your troops are being kept ready to embark, and
I would suggest you should send the Territorial Division if Hamilton
wants them. Peyton's transports, etc., etc., etc."
The second cable quotes mine of last night wherein I ask leave to call
for the East Lancs. and says, "I feel sure you had better have the
Territorial Division, and I have instructed Maxwell to embark them. My
No. 4239 addressed to Maxwell and repeated to you was sent before
receiving your telegram under reply. You had better tell him to send off
the Division to you. I am very glad the troops have done so well. Give
them a message of hearty congratulations on their successful achievement
to buck them up."
Bravo K.! but kind as is your message the best buck up for the Army will
be the news that the lads from Manchester are on their way to help us.
The cable people have pinned a minute to these two messages saying that
the two hours' pull we have over Greenwich time ought to have let K. get
my message _before_ he wired to Maxwell. He may think Maxwell will take
it better that way.
Before going to bed, I sent him (K.) two cables:--
(1) "Last night the Turks attacked the Australians and New Zealanders in
great force, charging right up to the trenches, bugles blowing and
shouting 'Allah Hu!' They were bayoneted. The French are landing to lend
a hand to the 29th Division. Birdwood's men are very weary and I am
supporting them with the Naval Division." These, I may say, are my very
last reserves.
(2) Telling K. how "I shall now be able to cheer up my troops by the
prospect of speedy reinforcements, whilst informing them of your
congratulations, and appealing to them to continue as they have
commenced," I go on to say that we have used up the French and the Naval
Division "so that at present I have no reserve except Cox when he
arrives and the remainder of the French." I also say, simply, and
without any reference to the War Office previous denial that there _was_
any second French Division, "D'Amade informs me that the other French
Division is ready to embark if required, so I hope you will urge that it
be despatched." As to the delay in letting me have the Indian Brigade; a
delay which has to-day, so say the 29th Division, cost us Krithia and
Achi Baba, I say "Unluckily Cox's Brigade is a day late, but I still
trust it will arrive to-morrow during the day."
_Bis dot qui cito dat_. O truest proverb! One fresh man on Gallipoli
to-day was worth five afloat on the Mediterranean or fifty loafing
around London in the Central Force. At home they are carefully totting
up figures--I know them--and explaining to the P.M. and the Senior
Wranglers with some complacency that the sixty thousand effective
bayonets left me are enough--seeing they are British--to overthrow the
Turkish Empire. So they would be if I had that number, or anything like
it, for my line of battle. But what are the facts? Exactly one half of
my "bayonets" spend the whole night carrying water, ammunition and
supplies between the beach and the firing line. The other half of my
"bayonets," those left in the firing line, are up the whole night armed
mostly with spades digging desperately into the earth. Now and then
there is a hell of a fight, but that is incidental and a relief. A
single Division of my old "Central Force," so easily to be spared, so
wasted where they are, could take this pick and spade work off the
fighters. But the civilians think, I am certain, we are in France, with
a service of trains and motor transport at our backs so that our
"bayonets" are really free to devote their best energies to fighting. My
troops are becoming thoroughly worn out. And when I think of the three
huge armies of the Central Force I commanded a few weeks ago in
England--!
_29th April, 1915. H.M.S. "Q.E." Off the Peninsula._ A biggish sea
running, subsiding as the day went on--and my mind grew calmer with the
waves. For we are living hand-to-mouth now in every sense. Two days'
storm would go very near starving us. Until we work up some weeks'
reserve of water, food and cartridges, I shan't sleep sound. Have lent
Birdwood four Battalions of the Royal Naval Division and two more
Battalions are landing at Helles to form my own reserve. Two weak
Battalions; that is the exact measure of my executive power to shape the
course of events; all the power I have to help either d'Amade or
Hunter-Weston.
Water is a worry; weather is a worry; the shelling from Asia is a thorn
in my side. The sailors had hoped they would be able to shield the
Southern point of the Peninsula by interposing their ships but they
can't. Their gunnery won't run to it--was never meant to run to it--and
with five going aeroplanes we can't do the spotting. Our Regiments, too,
will not be their superb selves again--won't be anything like
themselves--not until they get their terrible losses made good. There is
no other way but fresh blood for it is sheer human nature to feel flat
after an effort. Any violent struggle for life always lowers the will to
fight even of the most cut-and-come-again:--don't I remember well when
Sir George asked me if the Elandslaagte Brigade had it in them to storm
Pepworth? I had to tell him they were still the same Brigade but not the
same men. No use smashing in the impregnable sea front if we don't get a
fresh dose of energy to help us to push into the, as yet, very pregnable
hinterland. Since yesterday morning, when I saw our men scatter right
and left before an enemy they would have gone for with a cheer on the
25th or 26th,--ever since then I have cursed with special bitterness the
lack of vision which leaves us without that 10 per cent. margin above
strength which we could, and should, have had with us. The most fatal
heresy in war, and, with us, the most rank, is the heresy that battles
can be won without heavy loss--I don't care whether it is in men or in
ships. The next most fatal heresy is to think that, having won the
battle, decimated troops can go on defeating fresh enemies without
getting their 10 per cent. renewed.
[Illustration: "W" BEACH]
At 9 o'clock I boarded H.M.S. _Kennett_, a destroyer, and went ashore.
Commodore Roger Keyes came along with me, and we set foot on Turkish
soil for the first time at 9.45 a.m. at "W" Beach. What a scene! An
ants' nest in revolution. Five hundred of our fighting men are running
to and fro between cliffs and sea carrying stones wherewith to improve
our pier. On to this pier, picket boats, launches, dinghies, barges, all
converge through the heavy swell with shouts and curses, bumps and
hair's-breadth escapes. Other swarms of half-naked soldiers are
sweating, hauling, unloading, loading, road-making; dragging mules up
the cliff, pushing mules down the cliff: hundreds more are bathing, and
through this pandemonium pass the quiet stretchers bearing pale,
blood-stained, smiling burdens. First we spent some time speaking to
groups of Officers and men and hearing what the Beachmasters and
Engineers had to say; next we saw as many of the wounded as we could and
then I walked across to the Headquarters of the 29th Division (half a
mile) to see Hunter-Weston. A strange abode for a Boss; some holes
burrowed into a hillock. In South Africa, this feature which looks like,
and actually is, a good observing post, would have been thoroughly
searched by fire. The Turks seem, so far, to have left it pretty well
alone.
After a long talk during which we fixed up a good many moot points, went
on to see General d'Amade. Unluckily he had just left to go on to the
Flagship to see me. I did not like to visit the French front in his
absence, so took notes of the Turkish defences on "V" and had a second
and a more thorough inspection of the beach, transport and storage
arrangements on "W."
Roper, Phillimore (R.N.) and Fuller stood by and showed me round.
At 1.30 p.m. re-embarked on the _Q.E._ and sailed towards Gaba Tepe.
After watching our big guns shooting at the enemy's field pieces for
some time I could stand it no longer--the sight seeing I mean--and
boarded the destroyer _Colne_ which took me towards the beach. Commodore
Keyes came along, also Pollen, Dawnay and Jack Churchill. Our destroyer
got within a hundred yards or so of the shore when we had to tranship
into a picquet boat owing to the shallow water. Quite a good lot of
bullets were plopping into the water, so the Commodore ordered the
_Colne_ to lie further out. At this distance from the beach, withdrawn a
little from the combat, (there was a hottish scrimmage going on), and
yet so close that friends could be recognised, the picture we saw was
astonishing. No one has ever seen so strange a spectacle and I very much
doubt if any one will ever see it again. The Australians and New
Zealanders had fixed themselves into the crests of a series of high
sandy cliffs, covered, wherever they were not quite sheer, with box
scrub. These cliffs were not in the least like what they had seemed to
be through our glasses when we reconnoitred them at a distance of a mile
or more from the shore. Still less were they like what I had originally
imagined them to be from the map. Their features were tumbled, twisted,
scarred--unclimbable, one would have said, were it not that their faces
were now pock-marked with caves like large sand-martin holes, wherein
the men were resting or taking refuge from the sniping. From the
trenches that ran along the crest a hot fire was being kept up, and
swarms of bullets sang through the air, far overhead for the most part,
to drop into the sea that lay around us. Yet all the time there were
full five hundred men fooling about stark naked on the water's edge or
swimming, shouting and enjoying themselves as it might be at Margate.
Not a sign to show that they possess the things called nerves. While we
were looking, there was an alarm, and long, lean figures darted out of
the caves on the face of the cliffs and scooted into the firing line,
stooping low as they ran along the crest. The clatter of the musketry
was redoubled by the echoing cliffs, and I thought we had dropped in for
a scrap of some dimensions as we disembarked upon a fragile little
floating pier and were met by Birdie and Admiral Thursby. A full General
landing to inspect overseas is entitled to a salute of 17 guns--well, I
got my dues. But there is no crisis; things are quieter than they have
been since the landing, Birdie says, and the Turks for the time being
have been beat. He tells me several men have already been shot whilst
bathing but there is no use trying to stop it: they take the off chance.
So together we made our way up a steep spur, and in two hours had
traversed the first line trenches and taken in the lie of the land. Half
way we met Generals Bridges and Godley, and had a talk with them, my
first, with Bridges, since Duntroon days in Australia. From the heights
we could look down on to the strip of sand running Northwards from Ari
Burnu towards Suvla Bay. There were machine guns here which wiped out
the landing parties whenever they tried to get ashore North of the
present line. The New Zealanders took these with the bayonet, and we
held five or six hundred yards more coast line until we were forced back
by Turkish counter-attacks in the afternoon and evening of the 25th. The
whole stretch is now dominated by Turkish fire from the ridges, and
along it lie the bodies of those killed at the first onset, and
afterwards in the New Zealand bayonet charge. Several boats are stranded
along this no man's land; so far all attempts to get out at night and
bury the dead have only led to fresh losses. No one ever landed out of
these boats--so they say.
Towards evening we re-embarked on the _Colne_ and at the very moment of
transhipment from the picquet boat the enemy opened a real hot shrapnel
fire, plastering with impartiality and liberality our trenches, our
beaches and the sea. The _Colne_ was in strangely troubled water, but,
although the shot fell all about her, neither she nor the picquet boat
was touched. Five minutes later we should have caught it properly! The
Turkish guns are very well hidden now, and the _Q.E._ can do nothing
against them without the balloon to spot; we can't often spare one of
our five aeroplanes for Gaba Tepe. Going back we had some long range
shots with the 15-inch guns at batteries in rear of Achi Baba.
Anchored off Cape Helles at dark. A reply in from Maxwell about the East
Lancs. They are coming!
The worst enemy a Chief has to face in war is an alarmist. The Turks are
indeed stout and terrifying fellows when seen, not in a poetry book but
in a long line running at you in a heavy jogtrot way with fixed bayonets
gleaming. But they don't frighten me as much as one or two of my own
friends. No matter. We are here to stay; in so far as my fixed
determination can make it so; alive or dead, we stay.
_30th April, 1915. H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth._ From dawn to breakfast time
all hands busy slinging shells--modern war sinews--piles of
them--aboard. The Turks are making hay while the sun shines and are
letting "V" Beach have it from their 6-inch howitzers on the plains of
Troy. So, once upon a time, did Paris shoot forth his arrows over that
selfsame ground and plug proud Achilles in the heel--and never surely
was any fabulous tendon more vulnerable than are our Southern beaches
from Asia. The audacious Commander Samson cheers us up. He came aboard
at 9.15 a.m. and stakes his repute as an airman that his fellows will
duly spot these guns and that once they do so the ships will knock them
out. I was so pleased to hear him say so that I took him ashore with me
to "W" Beach, where he was going to fix up a flight over the Asiatic
shore, as well as select a flat piece of ground near the tip of the
Peninsula's toe to alight upon.
Saw Hunter-Weston: he is quite happy. Touched on "Y" Beach; concluded
least said soonest mended. The issues of the day before yesterday's
battle seem certainly to have hung on a hair. Apart from "Y" beach
might-have-beens, it seems that, further inland, detachments of our men
got into a position dominating Krithia; a position from which--could
they have held it--Turkish troops in or South of Krithia could have been
cut off from their supplies. These men saw the Turks clear out of
Krithia taking machine guns with them. But after half an hour, as we did
not come on, they began to come back. We were too weak and only one
Battalion was left of our reserves--otherwise the day was ours. Street,
the G.S.O.I. of the Division, was in the thick of the battle--too far in
for his rank, I am told, and he is most emphatic that with one more
Brigade Achi Baba would now be in our hands. He said this to me in
presence of his own Chief and I believe him, although I had rather
disbelieve. To my mind "a miss is as good as a mile" should run a "miss
is far worse than a mile." He is a sober-spoken, most gallant Officer.
But it can't be helped. This is not the first time in history when the
lack of a ha'porth of tar has spoilt the ship of State. I would bear my
ills without a groan were it not that from the very moment when I set
eyes on the Narrows I was sent to prize open, I had set my heart upon
just this very identical ha'porth of tar--_videlicet_, the Indian
Brigade.
Our men are now busy digging themselves into the ground they gained on
the 28th. The Turks have done a good lot of gunnery but no real
counter-attack. Hunter-Weston's states show that during the past
twenty-four hours well over half of his total strength are getting
their artillery ashore, building piers, making roads, or bringing up
food, water and ammunition into the trenches. This does not take into
account men locally struck off fighting duty as cooks, orderlies,
sentries over water, etc., etc. Altogether, it seems that not more than
one-third of our fast diminishing total are available for actual
fighting purposes. Had we even a Brigade of those backward Territorial
reserve Battalions with whom the South of England is congested, they
would be worth I don't know what, for they would release their
equivalent of first-class fighting men to attend to their own
business--the fighting.
There are quite a little budget of knotty points to settle between
Hunter-Weston and d'Amade, so I made a careful note of them and went
along to French Headquarters. By bad luck d'Amade was away, up in the
front trenches, and I could not well deliver myself to des Coigns. So I
said I would come again sometime to-morrow and once more wended my way
along the busy beaches, and in doing so revisited the Turkish defences
of "V" and "W." The more I look, the more do I marvel at the invincible
spirit of the British soldier. Nothing is impossible to him; no General
knows what he can do till he tries. Therefore, he, the British General,
must always try! must never listen to the rule-of-thumb advisers who
seek to chain down adventure to precedent. But our wounds make us weaker
and weaker. Oh that we could fill up the gaps in the thinned ranks of
those famous Regiments....!
Had ten minutes' talk with the French Captain commanding the battery of
75's now dug in close to the old Fort, where General d'Amade sleeps, or
rather, is supposed to sleep. Here is the noisiest spot on God's earth.
Not only do the 75's blaze away merrily from morn till dewy eve, and
again from dewy eve till morn, to a tune that turns our gunners green
with envy, but the enemy are not slow in replying, and although they
have not yet exactly found the little beggars (most cunningly concealed
with green boughs and brushwood), yet they go precious near them with
big shell and small shell, shrapnel and H.E. As I was standing here I
was greeted by an old Manchurian friend, le capitaine Reginald Kahn. He
fought with the Boers against us and has taken his immense bulk into one
campaign after another. A very clever writer, he has been entrusted by
the French Government with the compilation of their official history of
these operations.
On my way back to the _Arcadian_ (we are leaving the _Queen Elizabeth_
for a time)--I met a big batch of wounded, knocked out, all of them, in
the battle of the 28th. I spoke to as many of them as I could, and
although some were terribly mutilated and disfigured, and although a few
others were clearly dying, one and all kept a stiff upper lip--one and
all were, or managed to appear--more than content--happy! This scene
brought tears into my eyes. The courage of our soldiers goes far beyond
belief. Were it not so war would be unbearable. How strongly God keeps
the balance even. In fullest splendour the soul shines out amidst the
dark shadows of adversity; as a fire goes out when the sunlight strikes
it, so the burning, essential quality in men is stifled by prosperity
and success.
_Later_. Our battleships have been bombarding Chunuk--chucking shells
into it from the Aegean side of the Peninsula--and a huge column of
smoke is rising up into the evening sky. A proper bonfire on the very
altar of Mars.
_1st May, 1915. H.M.S. "Arcadian."_ Went ashore first thing. Odd shells
on the wing. Visited French Headquarters. Again d'Amade was away. Had a
long talk with des Coigns, the Chief of Staff, and told him I had just
heard from Lord K. that the 1st Brigade of the new French Division would
sail for the Dardanelles on the 3rd inst. Des Coigns is overjoyed but a
tiny bit hurt, too, that French Headquarters should get the news first
from me and not from their own War Ministry. He insists on my going
round the French trenches and sent a capitaine de la Fontaine along with
me. Until to-day I had quite failed to grasp the extent of the ground we
had gained. But we want a lot more before we can begin to feel safe. The
French trenches are not as good as ours by a long chalk, and bullets
keep coming through the joints of the badly built sandbag revetment. But
they say, "_Un peu de repos, après, vous verrez, mon général._" During
my peregrinations I struck the Headquarters of the Mediterranean Brigade
under General Vandenberg, who came round his own men with me. A sturdy,
thickset fair man with lots of go and very cheery. He is of Dutch
descent. Later on I came to the Colonial Brigade Headquarters and made
the acquaintance of Colonel Ruef, a fine man--every inch a soldier. The
French have suffered severely but are in fine fighting form. They are
enchanted to hear about their second Division. For some reason or
another they have made up their minds that France is not so keen as we
are to make a present of Constantinople to Russia. Their intelligence on
European questions seems much better than ours and they depress me by
expressing doubts as to whether the Grand Duke Nicholas has munitions
enough to make further headway against the Turks in the Caucasus: also,
as to whether he has even stuff enough to equip Istomine and my rather
visionary Army Corps.
By the time we had passed along the whole of the French second line and
part of their front line trenches, I had had about enough. So took leave
of these valiant Frenchmen and cheery Senegalese and pushed on to the
advanced observation post of the Artillery where I met General
Stockdale, commanding the 15th Brigade, R.F.A., and not only saw how the
land lay but heard some interesting opinions. Also, some ominous
comments on what armies spend and what Governments scrimp:--that is
ammunition.
At 3 p.m., got back having had a real good sweat. Must have walked at
least a dozen miles. Soon afterwards Cox, commanding the 29th Indian
Brigade, came on board to make his salaam. Better late than never is all
I could say to him: he and his Brigade are sick at not having been on
the spot to give the staggering Turks a knock-out on the 28th, but he's
going to lose no more chances; his men are landing now and he hopes to
get them all ashore in the course of the day.
The Intelligence have just translated an order for the 25th April found
upon the dead body of a Turkish Staff Officer. "Be sure," so it runs,
"that no matter how many troops the enemy may try to land, or how heavy
the fire of his artillery, it is absolutely impossible for him to make
good his footing. Supposing he does succeed in landing at one spot, no
time should be left him to co-ordinate and concentrate his forces, but
our own troops must instantly press in to the attack and with the help
of our reserves in rear he will forthwith be flung back into the sea."
_2nd May, 1915. H.M.S. "Arcadian."_ Had a sleepless night and strain was
too great to write or do anything but stand on bridge and listen to the
firing or go down to the General Staff and see if any messages had come
to hand.
About 10 p.m. I was on the bridge thinking how dark it was and how
preternaturally still; I felt all alone in the world; nothing stirred;
even the French 75's had ceased their nerve-racking bark, and then,
suddenly, in one instant, hell was let loose upon earth. Like a hundred
peals of thunder the Turkish artillery from both Continents let fly
their salvoes right, left and centre, and the French and ourselves did
not lose many seconds in reply. The shells came from Asia and Achi
Baba:--in a fiery shower, they fell upon the lines of our front
trenches. Half an hour the bombardment and counter-bombardment, and then
there arose the deadly crepitation of small arms--no messages--ten times
I went back and forward to the signal room--no messages--until a new and
dreadful sound was carried on the night wind out to sea--the sound of
the shock of whole regiments--the Turkish Allah Din!--our answering loud
Hurrahs. The moments to me were moments of unrelieved agony. I tried to
think of some possible source of help I had overlooked and could not. To
hear the battle cries of the fighting men and be tied to this
_Arcadian_--what torture!
Soon, amidst the dazzling yellow flashes of the bursting shells and star
bombs, there rose in beautiful parabolas all along our front coloured
balls of fire, green, red or white; signals to their own artillery from
the pistols of the Officers of the enemy. An ugly feature, these lights
so beautiful, because, presumably, in response to their appeal, the
Turkish shell were falling further down the Peninsula than at first, as
if they had lengthened their range and fuse, i.e., as if we were falling
back.
By now several disquietening messages had come in, especially from the
right, and although bad news was better than no news, or seemed so in
that darkness and confusion, yet my anxious mind was stretched on the
rack by inability to get contact with the Headquarters of the 29th
Division and the French. Bullets or shell had cut some of the wires, and
the telephone only worked intermittently. At 2 in the morning I had to
send a battalion of my reserve from the Royal Naval Division to
strengthen the French right. At 3 a.m. we heard--not from the
British--that the British had been broken and were falling back upon the
beaches. At 4 we heard from Hunter-Weston that, although the enemy had
pierced our line at one or two points, they had now been bloodily
repulsed. Thereupon, I gave the word for a general counter-attack and
our line began to advance. The whole country-side was covered with
retreating Turks and, as soon as it was light enough to see, our
shrapnel mowed them down by the score. We gained quite a lot of ground
at first, but afterwards came under enfilade fire from machine guns
cunningly hidden in folds of the ground. There was no forcing of these
by any _coup de main_ especially with worn out troops and guns which had
to husband their shell, and so we had to fall back on our starting
point. We have made several hundreds prisoners, and have killed a
multitude of the enemy.
I took Braithwaite and others of the G.S. with me and went ashore. At
the pier at "W" were several big lighters filled with wounded who
were about to be towed out to Hospital ships. Spent the best part
of an hour on the lighters. The cheeriness of the gallant lads is
amazing--superhuman!
Went on to see Hunter-Weston at his Headquarters,--a queer Headquarters
it would seem to our brethren in France! Braithwaite, Street,
Hunter-Weston and myself.
Some of our units are shaken, no doubt, by loss of Officers (complete);
by heavy losses of men (not replaced, or replaceable, under a month) and
by sheer physical exertion. Small wonder then that one weak spot in our
barrier gave way before the solid mass of the attacking Turks, who came
on with the bayonet like true Ghazis. The first part of the rifle fire
last night was entirely from our own men. The break by one battalion
gave a grand chance to the only Territorial unit in the 29th Division,
the 5th Royal Scots, who have a first-class commanding Officer and are
inspired not only by the indomitable spirit of their regular comrades,
but by the special fighting traditions of Auld Reekie. They formed to a
flank as if on a peace parade and fell on to the triumphant Turkish
stormers with the cold steel, completely restoring the fortunes of the
night. It would have melted a heart of stone, Hunter-Weston said, to see
how tired our men looked in the grey of morning when my order came to
hand urging them to counter-attack and pursue. Not the spirit but the
flesh failed them. With a fresh Division on the ground nothing would
have prevented us from making several thousand prisoners; whether they
would have been able to rush the machine guns and so gain a great
victory was more problematical. Anyway, our advance at dawn was half
heroic, half lamentable. The men were so beat that if they tripped and
fell, they lay like dead things. The enemy were almost in worse plight
and so we took prisoners, but as soon as we came up against nerveless,
tireless machine guns we had to stagger back to our trenches.
As I write dead quiet reigns on the Peninsula, literally dead quiet. Not
a shot from gun or rifle and the enemy are out in swarms over the plain!
but they carry no arms; only stretchers and red crescent flags, for they
are bearing away their wounded and are burying their piles of dead. It
is by my order that the Turks are being left a free hand to carry out
this pious duty.
The stretcher-bearers carry their burdens over a carpet of flowers. Life
is here around us in its most exquisite forms. Those flowers! Poppies,
cornflowers, lilies, tulips whose colours are those of the rainbow. The
coast line curving down and far away to meet the extravagant blueness of
the Aegean where the battleships lie silent--still--smoke rising up
lazily--and behind them, through the sea haze, dim outlines of Imbros
and Samothrace.
Going back, found that the lighter loads of wounded already taken off
have by no means cleared the beach. More wounded and yet more. Here,
too, are a big drove of Turkish prisoners; fine-looking men; well
clothed; well nourished; more of them coming in every minute and mixing
up in the strangest and friendliest way with our wounded with whom they
talk in some dumb-crambo lingo. The Turks are doing yeoman service for
Germany. If only India were pulling her weight for us on the same scale,
we should by now be before the gates of Vienna.
In the afternoon d'Amade paid me a long visit. He was at first rather
chilly and I soon found out it was on account of my having gone round
his lines during his absence. He is quite right, and I was quite wrong,
and I told him so frankly which made "all's well" in a moment. My only
excuse, namely, that I had been invited--nay pressed--to do so by his
own Chief of Staff, I thought it wiser to keep to myself. Yesterday
evening he got a cable from his own War Ministry confirming K.'s cable
to me about the new French Division; Numbered the 156th, it is to be
commanded by Bailloud, a distinguished General who has held high office
in Africa--seventy years old, but sharp as a needle. D'Amade is most
grateful for the battalion of the Naval Division; most complimentary
about the Officers and men and is dying to have another which is,
_évidemment_, a real compliment. He promises if I will do so to ration
them on the best of French conserves and wine. The fact is, that the
proportion of white men in the French Division is low; there are too
many Senegalese. The battalion from the Naval Division gives, therefore,
greater value to the whole force by being placed on the French right
than by any other use I can put it to although it does seem strange to
separate a small British unit by the entire French front from its own
comrades.
When d'Amade had done, de Robeck came along. No one on the _Q.E._ slept
much last night: to them, as to us, the dark hours had passed like one
nightmare after another. Were we miles back from the trenches as in
France, and frankly dependent on our telephones, the strain would be
softened by distance. Here we see the flashes; we hear the shots; we
stand in our main battery and are yet quite cut off from sharing the
efforts of our comrades. Too near for reflection; too far for
intervention: on tenter hooks, in fact; a sort of mental crucifixion.
Cox is not going to take his Punjabi Mahommedans into the fighting area
but will leave them on "W" Beach. He says if we were sweeping on
victoriously he would take them on but that, as things are, it would not
be fair to them to do so. That is exactly why I asked K. and Fitz for a
Brigade of Gurkhas; not a mixed Brigade.
_3rd May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."_ At 9 p.m. last night there was
another furious outburst of fire; mainly from the French. 75's and
rifles vied against one another in making the most infernal _fracas_. I
thought we were in for an _encore_ performance, but gradually the uproar
died away, and by midnight all was quiet. The Turks had made another
effort against our right, but they could not penetrate the rampart of
living fire built up against them and none got within charging distance
of our trenches, so d'Amade 'phones. He also says that a mass of Turkish
reserves were suddenly picked up by the French searchlights and the 75's
were into them like a knife, slicing and slashing the serried ranks to
pieces before they had time to scatter.
Birdie boarded us at 9 a.m. and told us his troubles. He has
straightened out his line on the left; after a fierce fight which has
cost him no less than 700 fresh casualties. But he feels safer now and
is pretty happy! he is sure he can hold his own against anything except
thirst. His _band-o-bast_ for taking water up to the higher trenches is
not working well, and the springs he has struck along the beach and in
the lower gullies are brakish. We are going to try and fix this up for
him.
At 10 o'clock went ashore with Braithwaite and paid visits to
Hunter-Weston and to d'Amade. We had a conference with each of them,
Generals and Staff who could be spared from the fighting being present.
The feeling is hopeful if only we had more men and especially drafts to
fill up our weakened battalions. The shell question is serious although,
in this respect, thank Heavens, the French are quite well found. When we
got back to the ship, heard a Taube had just been over and dropped a
bomb, which fell exactly between the _Arcadian_ and the ammunition ship,
anchored only about 60 or 70 yards off us!
_4th May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."_ Last night again there was all sorts
of firing and fighting going on, throughout those hours peaceful
citizens ear-mark for sleep. I had one or two absolutely hair-raising
messages. Not only were the French troops broken but the 29th Division
were falling back into the sea. Though frightened to death, I refused to
part with my reserve and made ready to go and take command of it at
break of dawn. In the end the French and Hunter-Weston beat off the
enemy by themselves. But there is no doubt that some of the French, and
two Battalions of our own, are badly shaken,--no wonder! Both
Hunter-Weston and d'Amade came on board in the forenoon, Hunter-Weston
quite fixed that _his_ men are strained to breaking point and d'Amade
emphatic that _his_ men will not carry on through another night unless
they get relief. To me fell the unenviable duty of reconciling two
contrary persuasions. Much argument as to where the enemy was making his
main push; as to the numbers of our own rifles (French and English) and
the yards of trenches each (French and English) have to hold. I decided
after anxious searching of heart to help the French by taking over some
portion of their line with the Naval Brigade. There was no help for it.
Hunter-Weston agreed in the end with a very good grace.
In writing K. I try to convey the truth in terms which will neither give
him needless anxiety or undue confidence. The facts have been stated
very simply, plus one brief general comment. I tell him that the Turks
would be playing our game by these assaults were it not that in the
French section they break through the Senegalese and penetrate into the
position. I add a word of special praise for the Naval Division, they
have done so well, but I know there are people in the War Office who
won't like to hear it. I say, "I hope the new French Division will not
steam at economic, but full, speed"; and I sum up by the sentence, "The
times are anxious, but I believe the enemy's cohesion should suffer more
than ours by these repeated night attacks."