THE SECOND ATTEMPT
The business was to begin over again. We had failed; and if our defeat was
as proud as victory it was none the less a defeat. Our firm belief at that
time was that the fog had been solely responsible; certainly it was through
no dereliction of duty that we had been unsuccessful.
Looking back, however, after the lapse of two years, it is difficult to see
what other result could have been obtained even with the aid of the extra
hours of daylight. We might, and probably should, have taken Gaza; that we
could have held it against the undreamt-of reinforcements who poured down
in their thousands from as far north as Anatolia is extremely doubtful.
Further, the difficulties of maintaining a large army in this almost
waterless region were enormous. The Turkish railhead was on their doorstep,
as it were; ours was then twenty miles away at Rafa.
From that place all supplies and most of the drinking-water had to be
brought up by any transport available--chiefly camels; this obviously could
not go on for long. Opinions differ as to the wisdom of delivering the
attack at all until the railway had been brought as far as Belah. The chief
reason was, I believe, that the authorities were afraid that the Turks
would retire without fighting right back to the Judæan hills where, during
the months that must necessarily have elapsed before we could attack them,
they would have so fortified their naturally strong positions as to render
them, if not impregnable, at least infinitely more difficult to take than
those defending Gaza.
But, as an end to speculation, the hard facts were these: we had the Wadi,
the Turks still had Gaza--and intended to keep it. Inside of a fortnight,
moreover, they had concentrated six divisions for that purpose. Also, they
fortified an important ridge, east of Gaza, from which to prevent another
attempt at encircling the town. This was a nasty blow, especially for the
mounted divisions. The next attack would have to be delivered frontally,
and as the Turks held all the important positions it was likely to prove
expensive. Our counter-preparations were begun as soon as the infantry were
firmly established on the western bank of the wadi. By dint of the most
extraordinary exertions on the part of the engineers, assisted gamely by
the coloured sportsmen in the E.L.C., railhead was brought up to Belah by
the first week in April. Approximately fourteen miles of broad-gauge line
were laid in well under a fortnight, which feat was a great deal more
impressive than it looks on paper; for the country was now undulating and
hilly, in sharp contrast to the desert.
The first cutting was being made at Khan Yunus when we passed through on
the way north, and there were several more subsequently, all of which
needed time and hard work. But the single line was now insufficient for the
needs of the army. Another division had been brought up, and the 52nd
Lowland Division, who, by way of a startling change, had not been engaged
in the first battle, also arrived from Khan Yunus to swell the tide of
troops. Accordingly a branch line was laid from Belah down to the seashore,
where immense quantities of ammunition and stores were landed from
cargo-boats coming direct from Port Said or Alexandria.
Landing the stores was a particularly difficult task. All the ships had to
stand about a mile off-shore and discharge their cargoes into lighters and
smaller craft. Nor was this too easy, for the currents hereabouts were
exceptionally strong--several men were drowned while bathing--and the coast
was rocky and dangerous; nevertheless the work was done at express speed.
At the beginning of April a notable arrival was that of the Tanks. We had
left them behind at Pelusium and had not seen them since, for it was a slow
business bringing them across the desert. Extraordinary precautions were
taken to hide them from observation by Turkish aircraft; indeed, so
effectually were they screened that even we failed to spot them.
Enemy machines now hovered over us daily, seeking information and dropping
powerful reminders of their presence. In this latter respect they paid
particular attention to the long trains arriving daily and also to a large
shell-dump near the station, which they bombed unmercifully. A remarkable
and, to my mind, deplorable feature here and elsewhere was the frequency
with which a field-ambulance or hospital of some sort found itself
alongside an ammunition-dump. So common was the practice that a man seeking
temporary treatment would first look for the dump, and sure enough the
hospital was hard by. We used to strafe the Turks for bringing up
ammunition to the firing-line under cover of the Red Cross, but it seems to
me that in effect we were doing much the same thing. You cannot expect the
enemy to play the game according to the Geneva Convention if you yourself
fail to observe the rules.
Turkish airmen used to drop messages asking us kindly to move our hospitals
lest they should be hit by bombs intended for the dumps. Presumably out of
pure cussedness the hospitals stayed where they were; and inevitably they
were bombed. Then they moved. As a case in point: there was a large field
ambulance alongside the main shell-dump at Belah upon which several bombs
were dropped with disastrous results. One marquee full of sick and wounded
men was completely destroyed. Several others were badly damaged, and the
occupants, many of whom were desperately ill with dysentery, while helping
their weaker comrades out of the débris were bespattered with bullets from
the low-flying machines above. Little imagination is needed to picture what
would have happened to the hospital _in toto_ had a bomb hit the fringe of
the dump.
Apart from this it was uncanny how the Turks spotted the places where our
heavy guns were concealed ready for the coming show. In broad daylight they
came over and dropped bombs with amazing precision. Under cover of darkness
the guns would be moved and profane gunners laboured half the night to make
them invisible--and in one case their work was so well done that twenty
yards away it was impossible to see any signs of a battery. Yet the Turks
found them the very next morning and made the position very hot indeed.
Obviously this was not the result of direct spotting; somewhere there was a
leakage; and presently it was found--and stopped.
At Belah there was a native village of sorts, a mere hotch-potch of
mud-huts, whose inhabitants scratched a precarious living by tending sheep
belonging to other people. Ancient and withered Bedouins--or Turks
disguised as such--used to come into the camps and supply dumps and pester
the troops for empty kerosene or biscuit tins, to be used ostensibly for
carrying water. As these are the native receptacles all over the East they
were readily handed over without question.
One morning, however, a gunner, casually looking round, observed the
remarkable phenomenon of a kerosene tin perched on the top of one of
several trees near which his battery was placed, and glinting in the bright
sunlight. Continuing the movement he noticed another tree similarly
crowned, and yet another. Some queer accident might have accounted for the
presence of one tin, but three...! He reported the phenomenon to his
commanding officer, who, pausing not to reason why, immediately moved his
battery from what he thought was likely to be an extremely unhealthy spot.
He was right; he had barely got the guns under cover elsewhere when the
Turks, flying low, came over and heavily bombed the place he had just left!
Of course the kerosene tins had been almost as useful as a heliograph, and
who would dream of looking for such a thing at the top of tree?
Another accident led to the discovery of a much more elaborate means of
sending information.
One night a trooper of the Light Horse was returning to his bivouac from a
visit to a friend in another squadron. Standing by a little mound was a
figure which he took to be the sentry, which gentleman he was rather
anxious to avoid, the hour being somewhat late. To his astonishment the
figure suddenly disappeared into thin air; the trooper rubbed his eyes and
advanced cautiously towards the spot: not a trace. He was just beginning
sorrowfully to think of the quantity of liquor he had consumed that
evening, and to ask himself: "Do I sleep, do I dream, or is wisions about?"
when he was challenged lustily from behind by the real sentry.
When he had sufficiently recovered from the shock the trooper described
what he had seen to the sentry, who urged him to go to bed and he would
probably be better in the morning. However, the trooper persisted in his
tale, and finally the sentry promised to keep a sharp look-out on the place
and to warn his relief to do the same. The next day the trooper, his
conviction still unshaken, collected a few friends and together they dug
round the mysterious spot. They found an underground chamber with telephone
apparatus complete, which was found to be connected with the Turkish
defences at Gaza! The trap-door leading down to it was hidden under sods of
earth indistinguishable from the surrounding soil and the place was
ingeniously ventilated by a pipe through the stump of a tree close by. The
two occupants had rations enough for a siege; only they knew how long they
had been installed and how much information they had gathered. The sublime
effrontery of the thing! It might have gone on for ever had not one of the
prisoners crawled out for a breather at the precise moment when the
convivial trooper was returning to home and friends.
After this episode there was a long and rigorous hunt for spies and several
more were captured, most of them carrying on very innocent-looking
pursuits. What made the risk of detection less for these people was the
British policy, in the main a sound one, of non-interference up to a
certain point with the natives of the country in which we were fighting;
any old Bedouin, therefore, was a potential spy.
By the middle of April the preparations for a second attempt on Gaza were
complete. This time there was no intention of confining the issue to a
one- or even two-day battle. There might be another fog.... On the 16th we
packed six days' rations and forage on to the limbers and moved to the
outskirts of Belah, there to cover the infantry and wait till they had
carried out their part of the programme, which was to capture the outer
defences of Gaza. The Lowlanders and East Anglians did this in great style
the next morning, and spent the rest of that and the following day
consolidating the gains and preparing for the big "show" on the 19th. At
dark on the 18th we moved forward and crossed the wadi once again: the
journey this time was made comparatively easy by the fine work of the
engineers during the past fortnight.
By cutting deep into the steep sides of the wadi they had made several
really admirable roads sloping gradually down to the bed and up the other
side. The way led through fields of barley now standing almost waist-high.
It seemed a monstrous pity that the harvest would never be garnered, that
soon it would be crushed by gun-wheels and trodden underfoot by thousands
of horses. As we drew nearer the Turkish lines we proceeded with extreme
caution lest we ran into their patrols, and shortly after midnight halted,
noiselessly unlimbered the guns and dug them in. We had to tie the horses'
heads up to prevent them from grazing on the barley around us, and muffled
their bits and other steel work on the harness with bits of rag, for the
least sound carries a long way in this clear atmosphere. Then, the drivers
in each team taking turns to watch their horses, we lay down in the barley
and slept. "Zero" was at 0530, when it was just light enough to fire, and
by dawn we were up and about, tightening girths and preparing for a quick
move, if necessary--in one direction or the other.
The Turkish batteries discovered us at the precise moment when we opened
fire, possibly a few seconds before, for their first shells arrived and
exploded in a smother of barley-stalks and dust ere we had fairly begun.
They must have had some previous suspicion of our presence, for they had
the range to a yard right from the opening chorus and peppered our position
with extraordinary precision. Fortunately for us their guns, like our own,
were light field-pieces, or casualties would have been heavy. As it was the
Turkish shells destroyed most of the barley in the vicinity without doing
any material damage to our guns or horses.
After about an hour's steady firing, on the same lines as the strophe and
anti-strophe of a Greek chorus--noise and damage about equal, that is--the
excitement began in real earnest. The guns were limbered up and we advanced
out of the barley fields and galloped under heavy fire across a sandy
stretch to a position right in the open. We had a lively half-minute
unlimbering the guns. One team advancing into line struck a patch of heavy
soil which caused the pace sensibly to decrease. They were lucky, for a
shell had previously burst in the exact spot where the gun was unlimbered a
second or two later, which would certainly have obliterated the entire team
had it not been for that providential patch of heavy ground. Another shell
passed underneath an ammunition-waggon, ploughed a deep furrow in the earth
and--failed to explode! There were very few "duds," however. The red
flashes from the Turkish guns were distinctly visible, and every few
seconds their shells exploded in a long line about ten yards in front of
our position.
Our responses must have been very much to the point, for the shelling from
one quarter diminished appreciably after one particularly heavy burst of
firing from our guns, and soon ceased altogether. By way of retaliation the
batteries immediately in front of us redoubled their fire and spouts of
earth shot into the air all round the guns. So hot did it become that once
the horses were called up to bring the battery out of action; it was
impossible to approach within a hundred yards, however--indeed, as soon as
the teams appeared out of the nullah in which the waggon-line had been
placed the Turks instantly turned their guns on to them and shelled them
out of sight again.
But now another battery came up on our right, and the two, by accurate and
steady shooting, gradually wore down the opposition; one by one the red
flashes disappeared and the spouts of earth diminished in number. Finally
there was a lull; the Turks had had enough for the time being.
This of course was only on a very small portion of the front, and only
affected the movements of our particular brigade, who were heavily engaged
on their own account. On our left the advance was making little progress.
The Turks had fortified every ridge to the last degree and refused to be
dislodged from even the smallest positions, fighting on till every man was
killed. The Welsh Division were making towards Samson's Ridge, and being
nearest the sea were compelled to move in a restricted area in which there
was no cover whatever. Standing a few miles off-shore were some British
monitors and a French battleship, the last-named aptly called the _Requin_,
and these did some fine shooting throughout the day.
It was discovered that the Turks were using the big mosque in Gaza as an
O.P. from which to direct their artillery fire. The navy promptly dropped
a 9.2 in. shell on it--a fine shot considering the range.
Even with the aid of the battleships the Welshmen could make little
progress, so heavy was the fire, and they suffered terrible losses. Not
until the afternoon, when most of the Turks were killed or wounded, did
they capture the ridge. On the right the "Jocks" managed at heavy cost to
seize a hill, known afterwards as Outpost Hill, and were at once enfiladed
from every ridge in the vicinity and compelled to withdraw. They came again
and held on in spite of their casualties, for it was hoped to reach from
here their ultimate objectives.
It was a forlorn hope. All the troops, either attacking or in support, were
compelled to lie in the open. They were swept by bullets from every side
and plastered with shells from guns of all calibres. The Turkish action in
fortifying Atawina Ridge, east of Gaza, had narrowed the front by many
miles, and so well were the defences elsewhere arranged that unless Ali
Muntar itself, which dominated them all, were taken it was impossible to
hold on to any one ridge even if it were captured.
Farther over towards the right the East Anglian division, the "Cameliers,"
and a brigade of Light Horse--to the last-named of which we ourselves were
attached--began just before noon to advance, after the "pipe-opener" of the
early morning. The infantry had a few tanks operating with them, but these
met with little success, for everything was against them. One stopped a
direct hit when immediately in front of a Turkish redoubt and was soon
reduced to impotence by the concentrated fire poured into it. As a matter
of fact the poor remains of the tank permanently occupied this position,
and until it was taken months later Tank Redoubt was ever a thorn in the
side of our infantry.
By eleven o'clock in the morning we had advanced some four or five miles,
after which the infantry were temporarily held up. The Camel Corps and the
Light Horse made a magnificent attempt to break through between Atawina and
Ali Muntar. This was the hottest period of the day; the Turks turned on
every gun they could bring into action. As all their "heavies" were mounted
on rails they could be swung from one end of the front to the other with
the utmost ease. I cannot speak with knowledge of what happened to the
Camel Corps, but the Light Horse had a terrible time. Both units had been
successful in capturing a line of trenches, which were at once shelled out
of existence by the Turkish fire. The casualties here were very heavy. In
support of our brigade we galloped about a mile over very broken and
dangerous country and eventually came into action astride a road, with a
small crest in front and a larger one in rear of our positions.
Turkish aircraft spotted us at once and dropped smoke-bombs. Again we were
lucky, for the heavy shells which came over a few seconds later burst
behind us on the large hill. Unfortunately another battery coming up to
assist caught most of these shells and had a very bad time. One gun was
dismantled by a direct hit and all its crew wounded, but the remainder
fought their guns with magnificent coolness. Word came that our brigade and
the Camel Corps were being beaten back by the Turks, now advancing steadily
and in great force, and a third battery dashed up on our right to help
repel them. For five hours the three batteries were firing as fast as the
guns could be loaded. The crash of the Turkish shells bursting over our
positions, the roar of the explosions as our guns were fired, and the
rattle of machine-guns on our left combined to make an appalling din.
For a long time the ranges continued to decrease as the Turks pressed
slowly forward, and casualties from the brigade streamed past in increasing
numbers, some on stretchers, some walking, and one carried pick-a-back by a
huge Australian, towards the field-ambulance away to the rear. Three enemy
aeroplanes came over to make things unpleasant, but their aim was bad. One
bomb dropped dangerously near the horses, who were standing the racket
exceedingly well, and that did little damage. These machines did, however,
harass a line of ammunition waggons, which were proceeding to a dump about
a mile away, coming down low and turning on their machine-guns in the hope
of killing the horses. There are few things more unpleasant than being
fired at from an aeroplane: you feel so utterly impotent; and what
aggravates the grievance is the fact that you cannot hit back--unless you
happen to belong to a battery of "Archies." When you are a mere
gravel-crusher or a driver in the artillery you have to grin and abide; and
the grin is apt to deteriorate into a grimace. You can become accustomed,
if not reconciled, to shell-fire; but I personally never heard the drone of
an enemy plane overhead without a prickly sensation down the spine and an
urgent desire for a large dug-out forty feet below ground; and there were
very few of these in Palestine. At one stage in the journey to the dump a
wounded Australian made a spirited, if inadequate attempt to bring down a
plane by rapid rifle-fire, aiming at each of the three in turn! But this
was the only effort at retaliation and is mentioned for that reason.
We had no "Archies"; and the only British aeroplane I saw on this part of
the front, at any rate, was brought down in flames as we were returning
from the dump. Good men gone in a hopelessly inferior machine. God forgive
us, we cheered, thinking it to be a Taube.
Shortly after our return to the battery the Turkish advance began to waver.
They had been sprayed by an incessant hail of shrapnel and high explosive
for over three hours, and even their fatalistic courage could not stand the
strain. The Light Horse were now holding their own, and soon a monotonous
voice from the O.P. chanting over the wire, told that the Turks were
retreating. Slowly the range increased--2400--2600--2800--until the enemy
had passed out of reach of the guns; then for the first time since early
morning we ceased fire.
But elsewhere on the front the situation was almost _in statu quo_. Though
the Welshmen had, as stated, carried Samson's Ridge and had even advanced
some miles along the coast, Ali Muntar still remained untaken. All day the
Lowland Division had made the most desperate attempts to storm the
position, going forward again and again with sublime disregard of their
losses. But to no purpose. They were hemmed in by an inferno of fire which
came from all directions: an attacking wave was swept away almost before it
began its forward move.
It was horrible, useless slaughter. When it was found that no headway could
be made in the centre the Lowlanders were ordered to cease their heroic
attempts, which they did most unwillingly. As the order to withdraw reached
a brigade which had been hammered unmercifully all day with little chance
of retaliation, one of the men shook his fist at Ali Muntar and, almost
choking with rage, cried out: "Damn ye! We'll hae ye yet!"
In the late afternoon the order to withdraw came to the mounted divisions
and, pivoting on the centre, we swung back some five miles in order to come
into line with the infantry, who themselves retired a very short distance.
It was no question of a sudden, urgent retreat to avoid capture, for the
Turks had had far too severe a gruelling to attempt pursuit. It was the
reluctant withdrawal of stubborn, angry, and above all, superlatively brave
men from positions too strong and well-organised to be taken by the means
that had been adopted.
As it afterwards transpired, we had the meagre consolation of knowing that,
though Gaza was still intact, we had achieved some small measure of success
east and west of the town. The gains on the east were unfortunately
neutralised by the deadlock in the centre; those on the west were
consolidated and held.