French aerodrome, coming late for luncheon, but had coffee with about
twenty French officers, all very jolly. Promised to let me fly over the
Dardanelles. I went on to the Cretans in a pinewood. Their officer, a
Frenchman, very keen on a show in Asia Minor.... The elder Vassilaki
has been arrested. His brother saw him go by in a trawler. Am going
to Mytilene, then return after three days, and leave here on Tuesday
for Anzac. No news of anything happening. Tenedos is a beautiful
town in its way, surrounded by windmills, with Mount Elias in the
background. Its streets are narrow, picturesque and hung with vines
that make them cool and shady. At the end of the town there is a very
fine old Venetian fortress, but its magnificence is outside; inside it
is furnished with round stone cannon-balls, ammunition for catapults.
In the last war the Greeks took the island, but one day a Turkish
destroyer popped her nose in. All the Greeks fled, and the Mufti and
the Moslems went and pulled the Greek flag down. Then in came a Greek
destroyer, and the Turkish one departed. The Mufti and the Turks were
taken off to Mudros, where he and they were beaten. He narrowly missed
being killed....
_Friday, July 30, 1915._ _Tenedos._ Slept very badly again. Had a
letter from the O.C. Poor Onslow killed, lying on his bed by his
dugout. A good fellow and a fine soldier. Aden nearly captured. I
prophesied its capture in Egypt. I shall be recalled before anything
happens.
* * * * *
The radiant air of Tenedos gave health as it did in Homeric times,
and I left with the desire that others should have the same chance
as myself of using that beautiful island as a hospital; but all the
pictures there were not bright. Under the windmills above the shining
sea there were the motionless, dark-clad, desolate Moslem women,
sitting without food or shelter. Their case, it is true, was no harder
than that of the thousands of Greek refugees who had been driven from
their homes, but these at any rate were living amongst kindred, while
the unfortunate Moslems were without help or sympathy, except that
which came from their enemies, the British.
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Friday, July 30, 1915._ _Mytilene._ I left by the Greek
boat yesterday. On the boat I met a man who might be useful as an
interpreter, Anibal Miscu, Entrepreneur de Travaux Publiques, black as
my hat, but talks English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Turkish,
Greek, Arabic, Bulgar, Russian and something else. The boat was stopped
by our trawler, No. ----, and searched for contraband of war. The
Greeks were furious. I landed at Mytilene, not having slept much and
feeling bad. Avani said they had tried to bribe him to allow some
raisins through, and kicked up the devil of a row. He seemed to think
that the raisins were dynamite. He was left guarding the raisins, all
night, I believe, with his revolver.
I was given a warm welcome by Compton Mackenzie in Mytilene. He,
fortunately for me, had been sent there by G.H.Q. I found several
old friends--Heathcote-Smith, the Consul, whose work it would be
impertinent for me to praise, and Hadkinson, whom I had last seen
at my own house in England, where he was staying with me when the
Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been murdered. Hadkinson had passed most
of his life on his property in Macedonia. Of the Eastern and Southern
languages he talked Greek, Italian, Turkish, Bulgarian, Serbian and
Albanian. His voice was as delightful as his knowledge of Balkan
ballads was wide, and his friends made him sing the endless songs of
the mountaineers. His personality had carried him through experiences
that would have been disastrous to most men; battles decisive in
European history had raged in front of his doors, while his house had
remained untouched; brigands of most of the Balkan races had crossed
his farm, rarely driving off his stock, and most of the local peasantry
in their misfortunes had come to him for help, for advice, doctoring
or intercession. Until the European war had crashed upon the world,
Hadkinson had been a good example of the fact that minorities, even
when they are a minority of one, do not always suffer.
The people of Mytilene, at that time, were very pro-English, though
the officials were of the faction of King Constantine. The desire I
frequently heard expressed was that Great Britain should take over
Mytilene, as she did the Ionian Islands, and that when Mytilene had
been put in order it should be restored to Greece.
_Diary._ _Friday, July 30, 1915._ _Mytilene._ ---- and Hadkinson have
gone out with a motor-boat and a machine-gun. The Vassilakis, or some
of them, have been deported, Vassilaki to Imbros and the beautiful
sisters to Mudros.... It’s a blazing, burning day.
_Saturday, July 31, 1915._ _Mytilene._ A gaming-house. Moved from
my first hotel to a larger and more disreputable one. Lunched with
Hadkinson and Compton Mackenzie[19].... At Thasos the Greeks have
arrested our agents under the orders of Gunaris. Have worked, and am
feeling better.
_Later._ The three Miss Vassilakis have not gone to Mudros. They turned
up this morning, and I was left to deal with them. Not as beautiful,
except one, as I had been led to believe. They got Avani out of
the room and wept and wept. I told them their brother would be all
right.... They wanted to know who prevented them leaving. I said it was
the Admiral. That good man is far away.
_Sunday, August 1, 1915._ _Mytilene._ Avani went off with the three
Miss Vassilakis, in hysterics, last night. They were very angry with
us. It seems probable that we shall have a landing on the mainland here
to divert attention from the Peninsula. Sir Ian Hamilton is coming down
to have a look. A good deal of friction over the blockade. The present
system causes much inconvenience to all concerned.
* * * * *
They were enchanting days of golden light or starlit darkness, while
one drank health almost in the concrete from the hot pine-scented
air and the famous wine of Mytilene. The conditions of others was
unfortunately less happy. There were some 80,000 Greek refugees from
the mainland, for whom the Greek Government had done practically
nothing, while the patriotic Greek communities of England and America
had not had the opportunity of relieving their necessities. We all did
what we could to help these people.
There was another question allied to this to be considered: whether a
Greek Expeditionary Force, largely composed of these refugees, should
be sent into Asia Minor. The danger of such a campaign to the native
Greeks was obvious; mainly for this reason it was not undertaken. But
while no expedition occurred, there was much talk about one. The fact
that Sir Ian Hamilton had come was widely known. It was said that great
preparations were being made, and these rumours probably troubled the
Turks and kept troops of theirs in a non-combatant area.
* * * * *
_Diary._ _Sunday, August 1, 1915._ _Mytilene._ Lunched with Mavromati
Bey. He was very heroic, saying he preferred to die rather than to
live under the German yoke, but there were no signs of a funeral at
luncheon, which was delicious.
Dined with Hadkinson, and was taken ill, but got all right and went
off with him on the motor-boat _Omala_ after dinner. H. said that for
a long time he had felt that I was coming, and had ordered a lamb for
me to be executed the following day; told the cook, too, to get some
special herbs.
The object of our journey was to find a wonderful woman, lithe as a
leopard and strong as a horse, and put her somewhere near Aivali to
gain information.
_Monday, August 2, 1915._ “_Omala._” _Off Moskonisi._ At dawn this
morning we came to Moskonisi, luminous in the sea. A decrepit shepherd
led a flock of sheep along the beach. His name is Panayotis and he has
a Homeric past; he killed two Turkish guards who courted a beautiful
sister-in-law before marriage. Then he killed two others for a
pusillanimous brother-in-law after marriage, and he has also sent two
other Turks to their rest, though H. does not know the reason for their
death.
Hadkinson had collected a large band of Palikaris, but the motor-boat
only held a few, the cream of them. He had English names for most of
them--Little John, Robin Hood, etc. They were tall men, with very
quick, clever eyes and lithe movements, picturesquely dressed. One of
them had a cross glittering in his kalpak, and A. M. (for Asia Minor)
on both sides of the cross. He said to me, pointing to Aivali: “There
is my country; we are an orphan people. For 150 years we have shed our
blood and given our best to Greece. Now in her hour of triumph and in
our day of wretchedness she denies us help. May she ever be less!”
Another Greek had been to Mecca as a soldier and stayed there and in
the Yemen for some years. The Captain was a quiet man, but apparently
very excitable. They were delighted with their army rifles. The
woman, Angeliko Andriotis, did not turn up at Gymno, so we went on to
Moskonisi, the men often playing on a plaintive flute, and sometimes
singing low together. At breakfast, soon after dawn, we had a sort of
orchestra.
We arrived opposite to Aivali. The Turks have sunk three mauna....
Hadkinson saw one of their submarines.
The situation at Aivali is curious. It lies at the head of a bay. Above
it there are hills, not high hills, but high enough, the men said
who were with us, to prevent its being bombarded by the Turks. They
looked at it with longing eyes. Their families were there. They kept
on cursing the “black dogs” and saying they would eat them. There were
35,000 people in Aivali, now only 25,000; 10,000 have left lately. The
sword of Damocles hangs over the rest of them, for they might be sent
off into the interior at any moment. We went on to the channel between
Moskonisi and Pyrgos. There we found the child of the woman, who was
sent with a note to her. Men were moving in the olives and the scrub
some distance off, whom the Greeks said were their own compatriots.
The boy, who was thirteen, took the letter and put it under his saddle.
He went off calmly to get past the Turks, without any air of adventure
about him. The others realized the stage on which they were acting,
and swaggered finely. I got off on Pyrgos with Hadkinson, and went to
a small, rough chapel, where they were bringing the eikons back in
triumph.
The beauty of it all was beyond words. I bathed on a silver sand in
transparent water between the two islands. Moskonisi, by the way,
doesn’t mean the Island of Perfume, but takes its name from a great
brigand who practically held the island against the Turks about thirty
years ago.
After a time the boy returned with a letter from his mother, and a
peasant with binoculars. He and the peasant both said that they had
seen a great oil-pool in Aivali Bay. We thought that this must be from
a submarine, and dashed round there at full speed, but found nothing.
Then we decided to come home. We picked up some of the men we had
dropped en route; and they brought us presents of gran Turco, basilica
and sweet-scented pinks. Then they played their flutes as the sun set,
and Hadkinson sang Greek, Bulgarian and Turkish songs, singing the
“Imam’s Call” beautifully and, to the horror of his Greek followers,
reverently.
We might have bagged the twenty-five Turks, or whatever number there
were, quite easily, but H. thought this would have produced reprisals.
He was probably right.
_Tuesday, August 3, 1915._ _Mytilene._ We got back last night after
dinner and heard that Sir Ian Hamilton, George Lloyd and George
Brodrick had been here.... One of the poor Whittall boys very badly
wounded. They were a fine pair.
_August 4, 1915._ _Mytilene._ Yesterday we heard that the Turks had
sent the town-crier to the equivalent of the capital of Moskonisi to
say that any Greek going beyond a certain line would be put to death.
Miss Vassilaki turned up, and said that she and her sister would come
with me to Tenedos. I said they couldn’t.
We dined with General Hill and his Staff and slept on the _Canopus_....
Mackenzie no better.... A good deal of friction in Tenedos. Athanasius
Vassilaki has escaped, and every one is annoyed. Some men have been
arrested for signalling.
_Thursday, August 5, 1915._ _Tenedos._ Most of the officers sick. I was
asked to stay on at Tenedos, but felt I must get back at once. Christo
says that it’s dull here, and Kaba Tepé is better than this house.
Turkish guns have been firing at our trawlers. A couple of men wounded.
Examined a man just escaped from Constantinople. Constantinople is
quite cheery: theatres, carriages, boats, etc. The Germans say we can’t
hold out on the Peninsula when the bad weather comes.
Then I examined a Lebanon French soldier who had arrested a child and
an old man for signalling....
* * * * *
Here there are some pages of my diary missing, but the events that
occurred are still vividly in my mind.
In company with other officers I went first to Imbros, hearing the
thunder of the guns from Helles. In passionate haste we tried every
means to get on to the Peninsula for the great battle. I left Christo
to follow with my kit, if he could, with the future doubtful before
him, and no certainty, except that of being arrested many times.
In the harbour at Imbros on that night there was a heavy sea, and in
a small, dancing boat we quested through the darkness for any ship
sailing to Anzac. One was found at last that was on the point of
sailing, and off we went.
The instructions of my friend Ian Smith were to get to Suvla, and luck
favoured him, for at dawn we lay off Suvla, and a trawler took him
ashore.
Along the heights and down to the sea-shore the battle growled and
raged, and it was difficult to know what was the mist of the morning or
battle smoke. I got off at Anzac, which was calm, realizing that I had
missed the first attack.
_Diary._ _Saturday, August 7, 1915._ _Kaba Tebé._ I went out to
Headquarters, which are now beyond Colonel Bauchop’s old Headquarters.
He, poor fellow, had just been hit and was said to be dying. Dix[20]
again wounded in the leg and Cator killed when he had just been
promoted. I saw the General; on the way out I met 300 Turkish prisoners
and was ordered to return and embark them. We came to the pier on
the beach, then three shells fell on and beside it; both S. B. and I
thought we were going to have a very bad time, packed like sardines,
with panicky prisoners. Embarking them took time; we were all very
snappy, but we got them off. I was glad to find S. B. and Woods. All
the dugouts here are desolate. I saw General Birdwood, who was very sad
about Onslow.[21] He talked of the water difficulties. He was cheerful,
as usual, and said he thought we should know which way things were
going by 5 o’clock. S. was less cheerful.
I went back to Headquarters, a weary trudge of two hot, steaming miles,
past masses of wounded. The saps were constantly blocked. Then back to
Anzac for a few hours’ sleep, till I can get my kit.
_Sunday, August 8, 1915._ _Near Anafarta._ Slept badly last night
at Anzac. The place was very desolate with every one away. I got up
before a clear dawn and went out to the observation post, where I found
General Godley and General Shaw. Our assault began. We saw our men in
the growing light attack the Turks. It was a cruel and beautiful sight,
for it was like a fight in fairyland; they went forward in parties
through the beautiful light, with the clouds crimsoning over them.
Sometimes a tiny, gallant figure would be in front, then a puff would
come and they would be lying still. We got to within about forty yards
of the Turks; later we lost ground. Meanwhile, men were streaming up,
through awful heat. There were Irish troops cursing the Kaiser. At the
observation post we were being badly shelled. The beauty of the place
was extraordinary, and made it better than the baldness of Anzac, but
we were on an unpropitious hillside, and beyond there were mules and
men, clustered thickly.
Then I was sent back to Kaba Tepé, where I found a lot of wounded
prisoners, who had not been attended to. I woke a doctor who had not
slept for ages. He talked almost deliriously, but came along and
worked like a real good man. I saw General House, V.C., and suggested
attaching one doctor to the prisoners, so that we should not get
contagious diseases.
Returned to Bauchop’s Post and examined a couple of Germans from the
_Goeben_. Got a good deal of information. Then I was telephoned for to
interrogate a wounded Greek, who had, however, got lost. I went back
outside the hospital, where there were many wounded lying. I stumbled
upon poor A. C. (a schoolfellow), who had been wounded about 3 a.m. the
day before, and had lain in the sun on the sand all the previous day.
He recognized me, and asked me to help him, but was light-headed. There
were fifty-six others with him; M. and I counted. It was awful having
to pass them. A lot of the men called out: “We are being murdered.” The
smells were fearful.... I went down a sap to the north to find the
Greek. Fierce shelling began. The sap was knocked down in front and
behind.
I came to a field hospital, situated where the troops were going
through. There no one knew where Taylor’s Hollow, the place where the
Greek was supposed to be, was. While I was there shelling was bad.
Several of the wounded hit again. One man was knocked in on the top of
me, bleeding all over. I returned to meet Thoms, who said he knew the
way. We ran the gauntlet....
I had a curious, beautiful walk, looking for the wounded Greek, going
to nineteen hospitals. Many wounded everywhere. First I saw one of
our fellows who had met ten Turks and had ten bayonet wounds. He was
extremely cheerful. Then a couple of Turks in the shadow of some pines,
one dying and groaning, really unconscious. I offered the other water
from my bottle, but he refused because of his companion, using Philip
Sidney’s words in Turkish.
Men were being hit everywhere. After going by fields and groves and
lanes I came back to where the wounded were lying in hundreds, in the
sap going to the sea, near Bauchop’s Fountain. There a man called to me
in French. He was the Greek I was looking for, badly wounded. He talked
a great deal. Said 200,000 reinforcements were expected from Gallipoli.
No gas would be used here....
_Monday, August 9, 1915._ _No. 3 Outpost._ Slept uncomfortably on the
ground. Went before the dawn to observation post; returned to examine
prisoners. Had an unsuccessful expedition with Hastings to find some
guns which he said had been lost between the lines.
Bullets came streaming down our valley, and we put up a small wall, of
sacks, 3 feet high, behind which we slept. I was sitting at breakfast
this morning listening to Colonel Manders[22] talking, when suddenly I
saw Charlie B. put his hand to his own head and say: “By G----, he’s
killed!” Manders fell back dead, with a bullet through his temple. He
was a very good fellow.
Sir Ian Hamilton came ashore. I saw him for a moment. Then to Kaba
Tepé; going and coming one passes a line of bodies, some dreadful,
being carried for burial. Many still lying out. The last wounded have
been more pitiful than anything I have seen. Cazalet is badly wounded;
I hope he will recover; he is a good boy. Colonel Malone was killed
last night and Jacky Hughes wounded. Lots of shelling.
Coming back I had to go outside the crowded sap, and got sniped. Thoms
and I had a very lively time of it.
Came back for Manders’ funeral. I was very fond of him. General Godley
read a few sentences with the help of my electric torch, which failed.
Four others were buried with him. Later I saw a great shell strike the
grave. A cemetery, or rather lots, growing up round us. There are dead
buried or half buried in every gully.
_Tuesday, August 10, 1915._ _No. 3 Outpost._ Christo arrived with my
kit and some grapes last night. While we were eating these, two men,
one of whom was our cook, were hit, and he being the second cook, it
was decided to change our quarters, as a lot of bullets streamed down
the gully and we had been losing heavily. I was called up in the night
to see about some wounded. The General had said they had better go by
boat, because of the difficulty of the saps, but there were no boats,
and Manders’ death had caused confusion at the hospital. The doctor on
the beach said he could not keep the wounded there any longer, because
of the rifle fire. I woke Charlie B. We got 200 men from the Canterbury
reinforcements. They had been fighting without sleep since Sunday
morning, but evacuated about 300 wounded to below Walker’s Ridge. There
were no complaints. The Turks still had to be left. They called to me
at night and at dawn. I gave them drinks, and later, after sunrise,
shifted them into the shade, which made them cheerful. The General had
not slept for three nights. The day went badly for us. We lost Chunuk
Bair, and without it we cannot win the battle. The Turks have fought
very finely, and all praise their courage. It was wonderful to see them
charging down the hill, through the storm of shrapnel, under the white
ghost wreaths of smoke. Our own men were splendid. The N.Z. Infantry
Brigade must have ceased to exist. Meanwhile the condition of the
wounded is indescribable. They lie in the sand in rows upon rows, their
faces caked with sand and blood; one murmur for water; no shelter from
the sun; many of them in saps, with men passing all the time scattering
more dust on them. There is hardly any possibility of transporting
them. The fire zones are desperate, and the saps are blocked with
ammunition transport and mules, also whinnying for water, carrying
food, etc. Some unwounded men almost mad from thirst, cursing.
We all did what we could, but amongst so many it was almost
impossible.... The wounded Turks still here. I kept them alive with
water. More prisoners in, report another 15,000 men at Bulair and a new
Division, the 7th, coming against us here. I saw General Cooper,[23]
wounded, in the afternoon, and got him water. His Staff had all been
killed or wounded....
If the Turks continue to hold Chunuk Bair and get up their big guns
there, we are, as a force, far worse off than at Anzac. What has
happened is roughly this: we have emerged from a position which was
unsatisfactory but certain, into one that is uncertain but partly
satisfactory. If the Turks have the time to dig themselves in, then
we are worse off than before, because we shall again be held up, with
the winter to face, and time running hard against us, with an extended
front. The Turks will still have land communications, while we shall
only have sea communications, and though we ourselves shall be possibly
better off, because we shall now have a harbour, the Turks some time
will almost certainly be able to break through, though possibly not
able to keep what they take. But the men at Helles will not be freed as
our move proposed to free them.
I thought one of the wounded Turks had cholera to-day. There is very
little water, and we have to give them water out of our own bottles.
We have a terrible view here: lines of wounded creeping up from the
hospital to the cemetery like a tide, and the cemetery is going like
a live thing to meet the wounded. Between us and the sea is about 150
yards; this space is now empty of men because of the sniping. There
are a number of dead mules on it, which smell horribly but cannot be
moved. A curious exhibition of sniping took place just below us this
evening, about 50 yards away. Two men were on the open space when a
sniper started to shoot at them. They popped into a dry well that
practically hid them, but he got his bullets all round them--in front
and behind and on the sides. They weren’t hit. The camp watched,
laughing.
_Thursday, August 12, 1915._ _No. 3 Outpost._ At 4.30 in the morning I
got up and walked with the General. We went up to Rhododendron Ridge to
have a look at the Turks. It is a steep, beautiful walk, and a glorious
view--trees everywhere and cliffs. We are fastening the cliffs up, and
camouflaging the trenches.
I took Nikolas the miller round the observation post in the morning. A
new Division is supposed to be against us, the 8th. In the afternoon
walked into Anzac to get a drink of water as have had fever and a cruel
thirst. The dugouts smell, and washing’s difficult. Anglesey gave me
excellent water.
_Friday, August 13, 1915._ _No. 3 Outpost._ Nothing doing. Bullets
singing about, but nobody getting hit. The heat’s ferocious, and
everybody’s feeling ill. Macaulay’s wounded.
Worked yesterday morning, also started on new dugout. In the afternoon
went with Turkish papers to Anzac. I saw C. He said that this beach for
cruelty had beaten the Crimea.... Savage feeling with the R.A.M.C....