THROUGH THE FIRING-LINES
Anzac was divided into two parts by Shrapnel Gully, which ran from Hell
Spit right up to the very apex of the position, at the junction of the
ridge that the army held and the main ridge of Sari Bair. Thousands
of men lost their lives in this great broad valley during the early
days of the fighting, when the Turkish artillery burst shrapnel over
it. That was how it got its name. It was there that General Bridges
met his death, in this Valley of the Shadow of Death. In its upper
course it merged into Monash Gully, called after the Brigadier of the
4th Brigade, that had held its steep sides at Pope's Hill--which was a
knuckle--at Quinn's Post, and between the two the sharp depression on
the edge of the ridge--"The Bloody Angle." A daring sniper might always
reach the very head of the gully and shoot down the long Valley. Only,
in time, the superiority and alertness of our sharpshooters overcame
that menace. Few Turkish snipers that played that game returned alive.
I went without a guide round Anzac, because the paths were well worn
when I trod them, though there were many twisted roads, but all leading
upwards to the trenches winding round the edge of the ridge. One could
not miss one's way very well by keeping on the path that led southward
from the heart of Anzac round to the first point--Hell Spit (beyond,
a machine gun played and chased any who approached, unless the Turks
happened to be off duty, as they sometimes were), and there you found
the broad, open mouth of the gully. Usually a party of men were coming
up from bathing. They were sun-burned right down to their waists (for
they never wore shirts if they could possibly avoid it, and looked more
like Turks than the Turks themselves), and you found them squatting
in a sap, the mouth of which gaped on to the beach, secure behind the
angle of a hill. By their side were large Egyptian water-tins. The
"coves" up above in the trenches were drinking this ration of water
for their evening meal, but there was always time to have a chat with
a comrade or mate from the northern side of Anzac, or with men who
lived in the heart of the position. For the troops knew only their own
section of the line, and had seen nothing of famed posts and positions
captured and held. In fact, it was a sort of mutual understanding
that these fatigue parties always stopped for the purpose of swapping
stories about adventures with Turks.
"Had much fighting, Fred, down your way?" one would drawl.
"Bit of an attack, but the blighters would not face the ---- bayonet."
"Was out doing a bit of scouting the other night from Russell Top,"
spoke another fine-featured man, "and only for a thunderstorm would
have captured a bit of a ridge, but a blooming interpreter chap got the
shivers, and we just got back without being nabbed."
It would make a book in itself to record all the conversations one
dropped amongst, of scraps of fighting, of one section of the line and
another. The men flattened themselves against the side of the sap to
let a stretcher case pass, always asking, if the wounded man showed any
signs of life, about the wound and his regiment. About July, in the
saps one met men carrying large quantities of sheet-iron and beams of
wood to form the terraces up along the sides of the hills. One sheet of
iron could make a dugout magnificent, even luxurious; two was a home
fit for a general. This sap wound backwards and forwards up the gully,
just giving glimpses of the tops of the ridge, over which bullets came
whizzing and embedding themselves against the hillside. That was the
reason of the sap. The little graveyard you passed was full of these
spent bullets: shells whined away over it to the beach.
[Illustration: SHRAPNEL GULLY, LOOKING NORTH INTO MONASH GULLY FROM
NEAR THE JUNCTION OF WANLISS GULLY.
The white cross in the centre of the hills represents the small section
of Turkish trenches on the Nek that overlooked the Gully. On the left
is Russell Top.]
[Illustration:
A MAP COMPILED FROM AERIAL RECONNAISSANCE OF THE TURKISH AND OUR
TRENCHES ON THE NEK, POPE'S HILL, QUINN'S POST, COURTNEY'S POST, AND
GERMAN OFFICER'S TRENCH.
On either flank of Pope's Hill are the heads of Monash Gully, the
Bloody Angle between Pope's and Quinn's.
To face p. 180.]
You came out into the open again where the gully broadened out. Looking
round, there were three or four wells visible, where the engineers
were busily erecting pumps. Iron tanks, too, were being brought into
use, part of the great reticulation scheme of Anzac, and round
them were grouped the men who had come down from the hilltops. That
water, blessed though it was, was thrice blessed by the men who once
carried it on their shoulders, grown sore under the weight. Some men
with 18-pounder shells tucked under their arms passed. "Heavy, lads?"
"Too blooming heavy altogether; one's about enough up them hills!"
Thus, by a stream of munition-carriers, was the artillery kept supplied
with its ammunition. Shells were not too plentiful in those days, but
the gunners were busy laying in supplies for the great artillery duel
that all knew one day would be fought. Ammunition, it may be recorded,
went by the beach at night, and so up to the very highest point of the
gullies possible, on mules.
Just at this broadening of Shrapnel Gully on the right (south) was
the Indian encampment. A mass of rags and tatters it looked, for it
was exposed to the fierce sun, and when gay coloured blankets were
not shielding the inmates of the dugouts, the newly washed turbans
of the Sikhs and Mohamedans were always floating in the idle breeze.
Their camp was always busy. They never ceased to cook. Though the
wiry Indians could speak little English, they got on well with the
Australians, who loved poking about amongst their camps hunting for
curios, while the Indians collected what trophies they could from the
Australians.
If you looked intently hereabouts, you might make out, smothered away
in the shadow of a hill, the dark muzzle of a gun in a pit, with the
gunners' camp beside it. He would have been a keen observer in an
aeroplane who could have detected those guns and marked them on his
maps. Sufficient proof of this might be found in the fact that nearly
all these guns were brought away at the evacuation. One or two that I
saw in the firing-line, or just behind it, had been battered.
Three ways lay open to you, now that you had crossed the broad bottom
of the gully. You might turn to the right and continue on up the main
gully till it joined with Monash Gully, and so go on a visit to the
apex of the position. You might turn off slightly to the left and
reach, by a rather tortuous track, the centre of the left flank (or
by this route travel behind the firing-line along the western slopes
of the hills to Lone Pine, and then reach the extreme left). A far
shorter, and the third way, was to go round the Indian encampment,
and either up White Gully or through a gap in another spur of the main
ridge, and come out on to Shell Green. This patch of once cultivated
land was a small plateau--the only cleared space on Anzac. The Turkish
shells passed over it on their way to the beach from the olive-grove
guns concealed 2 miles away. Sometimes, also, they dropped on it.
You crossed at the northern end of it, and reached the artillery
headquarters of Colonel Rosenthal's 3rd Brigade dug into the side of
the hill. It was across the gully facing the southern edge of this
green that the big 6-in. field gun, fired for the first time in August,
was placed. I remember watching the huge pit that was dug for it, and
the widening of the artillery roads that enabled it to be dragged into
position. Directly above Shell Green--a very dirty patch of earth after
very few weeks--was Artillery Lane, which was a track that had been cut
in the side of the hill, and which also served as a terrace. Dugouts
were easily accessible along this road, though it was subject to some
shell fire, so lower down the hillside was preferable, even if the
climb was steeper and the promenade more restricted. Brigadier-General
Ryrie, commanding 2nd Light Horse Brigade, had his headquarters at
this spot, and also the 3rd Infantry Brigade, under Brigadier-General
Maclagan. Lieut.-Colonel Long too, with the Divisional Light Horsemen,
also made his camp there. All of which troops were holding, in July,
the section of the line that reached down to the sea on the extreme
left.
It was a complicated position, for a series of small crests had had
to be won before Chatham's Post was established and an uninterrupted
view obtained of the Turkish huts along Pine Ridge and the plain where
the olive-groves were. Down on the beach that led round from Gaba
Tepe--the beach where the troops should have landed--were barbed-wire
entanglements and a series of posts manned only at night. Along that
beach a little way, the commander of the post, a Light Horseman,
pointed out to me a broken boat. It was a snipers' nest, he explained,
where the Turks sometimes lurked and waited. We now stood out in a
cutting looking down on Gaba Tepe at the Turkish trenches that ran in
parallel lines along the hills, till a bracket of bullets suggested
the wisdom of drawing back to cover. Along a very deep sap (so narrow
that in some places one had to squeeze one's way through) and down a
hill brought one up to Chatham's Post, called so after a Queenslander,
who captured it, of that name. Right on the crown of this knoll and
along its western slope were a series of machine gun positions,
striking at the heart of the left of the Turkish lines.
I was asked, "Like to see an old Turk we have been laying for, for
some time?--a sergeant he is. The beggar doesn't care a jot for our
shooting." Several rifles cracked as the observer made way for me to
put my eye to a telescope. Very clearly I saw a fine big Turk moving
along one of the enemy's communication-ways; it was apparent he was
supervising and directing. He bore a sort of charmed life, that man.
Eventually (some days later) he was shot. His name? Why, Abdul, of
course--they all were. Our telescope was withdrawn just in time, and
the iron flap dropped over the loophole as bullets splashed against it
and the sandbag parapets above.
"Damn them and their snipers!" said a young bush-man, and began again
his observation from another point. Up and down and through a long
tunnel and we came back again to the rear of the main hill. When I saw
where I had walked, set out on a map, it seemed very short after the
miles of winding trenches that disappeared in all directions over and
through the hill. Yet the troopers were still digging. Their troubles!
Brigadier-General Maclagan had a birthday--or he said it was about time
he had--one day when I came in, and he celebrated it by cutting a new
cake which his Brigade-Major, Major Ross, had obtained through the post.
"Luxury," began the Brigadier, with his mouth full of currants, "is
only a matter of comparison. Look at my couch and my pigeon-holes, my
secret earthen safes, and--bring another pannikin of tea."
Yes, it was comparison. "Ross, you will show the trenches--fine fellow,
Ross," and the Brigadier cut another piece of cake.
Other officers dropped in and the cake slowly vanished. I wondered what
Ross thought. "No use," he said to me later. "Better eat it now. Might
not be here to eat it to-night. What about these trenches, now? You
have a periscope? Right." As we started I felt his position was like
that of the officer who, having received a hamper with some fine old
whisky, found himself suddenly grown popular and received a great many
visitors in one night. News spread quickly at Anzac!
It was the middle section of the right of the line that I was visiting,
adjacent to the Light Horse position, just described. The Turks
started shelling before we had fairly started, and I watched the
shells bursting on Shell Green--harmlessly enough, but very thick.
The Brigade-Major left word at the telephone switchboard where he
was going, and, choosing one of three ways, dived into a sap on the
hillside that was reached by a flight of steps. One had not gone far
to be struck by the scrupulous cleanliness of this underground line.
No tins, papers, or broken earthworks: everything spick and span. I
was being told how the wheatfield had been taken at the time just as
we were passing across it--through a sap and working up under cover on
to the outer ridge. That day I seemed to do nothing else but grip hard
brown hands and meet new faces. That splendid Staff officer had a word
for all his men.
"Wish the beggars would only attack. We have everything nicely prepared
for them," he began to explain as we walked through a tunnel and halted
on the side of a hill. We stood behind some bushes in a machine-gun
pit. "Never been fired," said the officer, and then smiled in a curious
way. "Got four more all along the top of the gully in two tiers. We
expect--that is our hope--the Turks will come up here to try and cut
off that hill which we have taken. Let 'em."
It was the first time I had seen a real trap. God help any foe that
entered that valley!
Did I want to see all the position? I did. It took two hours--two of
the shortest, most amazing hours I spent at Anzac.
"We are going now to see the gallery trenches. Always believe in making
things roomy below ground," the Major explained, "so that the men do
not get any suggestion of being cramped." So we entered a fine, high,
and broad gallery, lit by the holes that were opened at intervals along
it and used as firing-steps. My guide chuckled as he came to a point
where it was rather dark. He stopped before more manholes filled with
barbed wire. On the firing-step a soldier was carefully handling his
tin of stew. This was a mantrap--a small hole and a thin crust of earth
and wide pit--prepared against the rushing of the position, one of
dozens that were all round the front as a protecting screen.
It was rather a difficult matter getting round the galleries as the
afternoon wore on, for the men had commenced their meals. They gathered
in small groups, some one always on guard for his comrades. Rifles
were ready, standing by the wall. It was not exactly a solemn meal,
for plenty of curses accompanied the passing of some "clumsy devil"
that knocked down earth into a tin of tea. The trenches were remarkably
sweet. The Major drew one's attention to the fact with justifiable
pride.
Of the Turks that were entrenched on the other side of the ridge one
saw nothing. Through a periscope you could make out their earthworks.
One stumbles on adventure in the firing-line. I was without my guide,
proceeding along a trench, when I was advised it was not worth while.
Quite recently it cut a Turkish trench, and now only a sandbag parapet
divided the two lines. It really was not worth occupying, except when
there was a fight on. It was too deadly a position for either side to
remain long in!
How the line twisted! Turning back along an angle, I found we had
got back again into the gully--the Valley of Despair I have heard it
called--only much higher up. There was an interesting little group
of men round a shaft. Major Ross explained: "Trying to get their own
water supply. Down about 80 feet. Yes, all old miners. The Tasmanians
have done most of this tunnelling work: must have dug out thousands
of tons of earth. Perfectly wonderful chaps they are. Dug themselves
to a shadow, and still fought like hell. Me thin? Oh, it does me good
walking about these hills; I can't sit in a dugout." A messenger came
up from the signal office. "You must excuse me. I have to go back to B.
11" (a junction of a trench and sap), and he dived into the trenches
again.
Imagine, now, you have begun walking back along the firing-line, going
from the extreme right to the left. Already two sections have been
passed. Had you continued along from the last gallery trenches, you
would have come out into the section opposite the Lone Pine trenches
of the Turks. The enemy here was a more discreet distance of 80 to
200 yards away across a broad plateau. The ridge was higher at this
point, and one might look back through a periscope (with great care)
from certain sharp-angled look-out posts, raised slightly, according
to the conformation of the ground, above the level of the ordinary
trenches, down the back of the ridge, and on to the positions one
had just left. They call this spot "The Pimple." Some of the posts
were the observation posts for artillery, others for special sentry
posts. As Lone Pine will form the subject of a separate chapter, the
trenches will not be elaborated here. Sufficient to say that here,
too, were gallery trenches, but lower and darker and less roomy; but,
nevertheless, absolutely effective either for defensive or offensive
purposes. You reached them by climbing to the end of Artillery Lane up
through Browne's Dip.
It was on the second day that along this roadway the guns were dragged
into the firing-line, when Major Bessell-Browne had a battery right
on the crest of the ridge almost in the firing-line (the guns were
actually in the infantry trenches for a time), until the Turks made
it too warm for them. Now, this hilltop, which lay just behind the
position held by the 1st Infantry Brigade and to the south-east of
White Gully, was bare of any infantry trenches. It was, moreover,
covered with furze and holly bushes. The trenches had been advanced
to the edge of the plateau, on the other side of which the Turkish
lines ran. With Colonel Johnston, Brigadier of the Victorian Artillery
Brigade, I had climbed up here one morning to see the gun positions.
One passed from Artillery Lane into an extremely narrow trench right
amongst some bushes, and found oneself in a snug little position,
completely concealed from observation. Out of the midst of these
earthworks a gun pointed to the Turkish positions on Pine Ridge,
Battleship Hill, and Scrubby Knoll. There was a telescope carefully
laid through a loophole, the iron flap of which was discreetly dropped.
It swept the Turkish ridges closely. A sergeant was in a "possy" (the
soldier's term for his position in the firing-line and dugout) watching
a party of Turks digging. He could just see their spades come up in
the air. It was believed that they were making emplacements for new
guns. Colonel Johnston let the enemy nearly finish and then blew them
and their earthworks to pieces. It was what he called "stirring up a
stunt," for not long after, sure enough, as he anticipated, the Turks
commenced to reply, and shells began dropping in front of and over
this post as the Turks searched for our guns. These little artillery
duels lasted about half an hour, and when ammunition was plentiful
(the daily limit was fixed for many weeks at two shells a day unless
anything special occurred) two or three "stunts" might occur during a
day. Sometimes word would come down from the infantry trenches that
Turks were passing in certain gullies or could be seen working up on
to Battleship Hill or up the side of Baby 700, and the guns would be
laid accordingly. It would be difficult to estimate the number of
targets that had been registered by the active artillerymen. They
had them all tabulated, and could train their guns on to any spot
during a night alarm in a moment. For from some point or other good
views could be obtained of the Turkish positions: not in detail, of
course, but sufficient, with the knowledge that aeroplane sketches and
reconnaissance provided (Major Myles was one of the most successful of
the artillery officers who went observing from the hangars at Tenedos),
to cause great havoc amongst the Turkish supports and reserves.
But such shelling, whatever damage was done, never prevented the
Turks from digging new firing-lines and communication and reserve
trenches. Their industry in this respect was even greater than the
Australians', who moved whole hills or honeycombed them with galleries
until you might expect that a real heavy burst of shells or a downpour
of rain would cause them to collapse. The Turks had mobilized digging
battalions, units in which men who had conscientious objections to
bear arms (many of them farmers) used to work. This was how Pine Ridge
became such a huge mass of enemy trenches. Why, there were secret
saps and ways all along from Kojadere right to Gaba Tepe Point. But
sometimes the Turks were caught napping, as when the Australians
captured an advanced spur or knoll on the plateau that gave a glimpse
down a gully (for the other side of the plateau that sloped away down
to Kojadere was just as cut by ravines as was the Anzac side), and
after a few days' quiet preparations--the Turks being ignorant of our
new advantage--our machine guns swept backwards and forwards along
it, while the artillery drove the Turks into this hail of lead with
shrapnel and high explosives.
With Colonel Johnston I went farther back towards the seashore along
the back of one of the spurs, and round Majors Phillips', Caddy's,
Burgess's guns, well dug into deep pits protected by solid banks of
earth, covered with natural growth of bushes. It seemed to me unless
a direct hit was obtained there was little chance of their being
destroyed. Space was conserved in every way so as to leave as little
opening as possible; magazines were dug into the cliff and dugouts as
well. Yet several guns were knocked out. There was one gun crew amongst
whom a shell had burst. Two men had been killed outright, and others
badly wounded. When the stretcher-bearers rushed into the gun-pit they
found a dying man trying to open the breech of the gun to load. His
strength failed, and he fell back dead in a comrade's arms. Those men
thought only of the gun and their mates after that explosion.
Little gaps occurred in the Anzac front where two gullies met on the
razor-back crest of the hill. One was at the head of Wanliss Gully,
between the 4th Battalion of the 1st Brigade and the 5th Battalion,
holding the section opposite the German Officers' Trench. Here the
crest of the hill had been so worn away, and the head of the gully was
so steep, that no trenches could be connected. As a result, all the
protection that could be given was to bend back the trenches on either
side down the hill, and establish strong posts and make entanglements
from side to side of the gully. It was a source of intense anxiety to
Colonel Wanliss (commanding 5th Battalion), who was early responsible
for its protection.
The 2nd Infantry Brigade held the section of trenches going to Quinn's
Post during the greater part of four months: held them sometimes
lightly, sometimes in great strength. Opposite were the Turks' most
elaborate works, designated "German Officers' Trench" and "Johnston's
Jolly." These series of Turkish trenches varied from 20 to 80 yards
from the Australian lines. The origin of their names is interesting.
German officers had been seen in the trench that bears their name,
which offered sufficient reason, as there were not a great number of
Hun officers on the peninsula. The other series of trenches had
presented to Colonel Johnston's mind a good target, on which he always
said he would have a "jolly good time" if his guns had only been
howitzers and able to reach them, which, with his 18-pounders, he could
not. The Turks had used huge beams many feet in thickness to fortify
these trenches along this sector of the line. Probably it was because
it led directly to the heart of the enemy's position (Mule Gully was
beyond and Kojadere) that such measures were taken. No artillery
bombardment had had much effect on these trenches. One day--it
illustrates the spirit of the Turkish army--a Turkish officer was seen
directing the erection of some overhead cover down a communication
trench behind this position. A burst of shell had warned him that he
was observed, and bullets from machine guns played round him. He paid
little attention, and went on with the directing of his job. When
complete it was blown down, and continued to be blown down as fast as
it was constructed, until the Turks had to give it up in despair. That
brave officer directing the operations, was killed.
[Illustration: CHAPLAIN DEXTER (5TH INFANTRY BATTALION) LEARNING THE
WORKING OF A TRENCH MORTAR.
Turkish firing-line thirty yards beyond the parapet.]
[Illustration: SHELL GREEN, THE ONLY LEVEL AND CULTIVATED SPOT ON
ANZAC: GUN EMPLACEMENT AND LIMBERS IN THE FOREGROUND.
This position was subsequently used as an aeroplane signalling station.]
Opposite the left front of "German Officers' Trench" came Steel's Post,
and next to Steel's, Courtney's Post, both called after officers of
the 4th Infantry Brigade, whose regiments had held the positions in
the first awful fortnight's fighting. Really they might be more aptly
termed by the number of the regiment--14th Battalion--and the fine men
who composed it. The Turks' line drew very close at this point. A gully
cut into the plateau from the Anzac side and formed the "Bloody Angle."
On the north of it was Pope's Hill, and on the south was Quinn's--the
famous post cleft in the hillside--a concave position, at the heart of
which the Turkish rifles pointed from the north and south, for it was
from the night of the landing a savage thorn pressed in their side. But
the history of these posts needs a special chapter. By them Anzac held
or fell.
Early I said Anzac was divided into two halves by Shrapnel Gully--the
southern has just been travelled over. There remains to describe only
those trenches that lay north of Shrapnel and Monash Gully, on the
Nek, and back along Russell Top, the northern section of the famous
position. It was mostly a New Zealand position; for New Zealanders and
Maoris were largely responsible for its defence till the 3rd Light
Horse Brigade, under General Hughes, took it over. Approached from
the beach, the cliffs of Russell Top rise almost precipitously. The
New Zealanders, mounted and dismounted troops, had had to set to work
to cut a road up the face of this cliff to the top of the ridge. It
was the isolated nature of the position--until a way was cut down the
slopes into Monash Gully to the very foot of the hill--that caused so
much difficulty in moving troops, and was responsible for more than
one delay in getting men to required posts at given times. Russell's
Top might be best described as the end of the main Sari Bair ridge.
Southward from the ridge, and almost at right angles to it, ran the
spur commencing with Plugge's Plateau, that formed the first ridge
(Maclagan's ridge) stormed by the Australians. It overhung Anzac Cove.
Incidentally it was the second line of our defence, the triangle within
the triangle, and on it were the hastily formed trenches that the
Australians had dug during the 25th, 26th, and 27th April, lest the
Turkish attempts to "drive them into the sea" proved successful. Guns
were hauled up these ridges by hundreds of men, just as the Italians
were doing on the Gorizia front. Had this last position been carried
the guns could never have been got away. They might certainly have been
tumbled down into the gullies below and spiked.
Russell Top itself was a short section or series of trenches grouped
on either side of the ridge, and ending at the Nek. They faced roughly
north and south. They commanded Anzac position to the south, and all
the series of our works described in the early part of the chapter.
On the north they dominated (the impossibility of getting very heavy
artillery right along the ridge, owing to its precipitous and exposed
nature, limited severely that command) all the series of foothills that
led up to Chunak Bair and Koja Chemin Tepe. In this direction short,
sharp spurs, covered with dense bushes and undergrowth, branched out
from the Sari Bair ridge. To name them, starting from the beach: The
first in our possession was Walker's Ridge, and then Happy Valley, then
Turks' Point, then Snipers' Nest, where the Turks had command of the
beach to good effect, and from which it was found impossible, though
many stealthy attacks were made and the destroyers plastered the spur
with shell, to dislodge them. Beyond, stern above all these crooked
steep hilltops, was Rhododendron Ridge. Now, just after Turks' Point
the ridge narrowed and formed the Nek. I do not think it was more than
160 yards wide at the utmost, just a thin strip of land, with sheer
gullies protecting it on either flank. From here, too, the Sari Bair
ridge began to slope up, rising rapidly to Baby 700, Battleship Hill,
Chunak Bair. Immediately in front of the Nek, adjacent to the head of
Monash Gully, were the terrible Chessboard Trenches, so named because
the newly dug exposed earth where the trenches ran, lay in almost exact
squares across the ridge from one side to the other, like a chessboard.
The New Zealand trenches (afterwards manned by Australian Light
Horse) were about 80 yards from the enemy's lines, though the Turks
occupied somewhat higher ground, and consequently looked down on to
our trenches. But such was the superiority of fire that our troops had
obtained, that the enemy were never able to take full advantage of this
position. To hold these few acres of ground against fearful attacks
cost hundreds of lives. The trenches were mostly sandbagged, the earth
being too crumbling to hold against the searching fire of "75's" which
the Turks (they had captured them in the Balkan War from the Serbians)
had, together with Krupp artillery. Our machine guns commanded Snipers'
Nest and the angle of Rhododendron Ridge where it joined the main
ridge. Traverses, therefore, became nothing but huge pillars of sand.
The work entailed in keeping them clear and intact was very heavy
indeed. A number of trench mortars concealed round the crown of Russell
Top strengthened our position; while on the north flank many trenches
existed amongst the undergrowth which the Turks were ignorant of.
Still, through the possession of this ridge we had been able to fling
out outpost stations along the beach towards Suvla Bay, and dig the
sap which eventually was the connecting link with Anzac in the great
operations at Suvla Bay on 7th August. But the Nek itself the Turks had
mined and we had countermined, till beneath the narrow space between
the trenches, was a series of mine tunnels with gaping craters above.
Only once had the Turks attempted an attack across this Nek, as I
have described, but they so strengthened their position (and it was
comparatively easy, owing to the configuration of the ground) that
they were here probably more, what the Australians called "uppish
and cheeky" than in any other part of the line. One day, while I was
standing talking with General Hughes, a message weighted with a stone
was flung at our feet from the enemy's line. It looked like a pamphlet.
It was written in Turkish, and when taken to the interpreter's
quarters and transcribed, proved to be Turkish boasts published in
Constantinople.
Round the flank of our trenches was a favourite way for deserters to
come in, which they did on many occasions. Once on a dark night the
sentries were startled to hear a voice speaking even more perfect
English, and certainly more correct, than one was accustomed to hear in
the trenches, saying: "Will you please tell your men to cease firing,
as I want to surrender?" Of course, the situation was rather difficult,
as the Turks were fond of ruses, but eventually an Armenian officer
jumped over the parapet and gave himself up. And very useful he proved,
with the information he brought and gave during subsequent operations.
But most difficult problem of all on this high plateau-top was the
maintenance of supplies; not only of food and water, but of munitions.
It was forty minutes' terrible climb to the top from the beach--a climb
that needed every muscle strong to accomplish, even lightly laden. To
fortify the position as it had been, was a magnificent achievement, and
could only have been done by troops with the hearts of lions and the
spirit of the Norsemen of old.
It might have been thought in the face of such difficulties, with the
fevers of the Mediterranean eating into their bodies, that the spirit
of the army would have failed. On the contrary, the Australasians
accepted the position just as it was, bad as it was: the sweltering
heat and the short rations of water; the terrible fatigues, absent
from campaigns in other theatres of the war zone; and, above all, the
constant exposure to shell fire and rifle fire week after week and
month after month. But the spirit of the trenches was buoyant and
reflective without becoming pessimistic. The men were heartily sick
of inaction. They rejoiced in the prospects of a battle. It was the
inertia that killed.