THE TEN DAYS AFTER
Throughout the long and anxious hours of the 25th, while the fate of
his army hung uncertain, the Commander-in-Chief was compelled to remain
on board the _Queen Elizabeth_ with his Headquarter Staff. There was
no place for him ashore. In modern warfare a commanding General cannot
allow himself to become entangled in one part of the widely-extended
front or in another. When once his dispositions have been made and
his orders issued, the control passes out of his hands; and the more
complete his dispositions and orders have been, the less is the part
he is justified in taking upon himself. He can but await the result,
listening anxiously to reports as they come. The wretchedness of such
a position, for a soldier born to lead forlorn hopes or to command
the rush of onset, was here increased by the sea. At no point was it
possible even to remain on land without losing touch with all the other
points. Only at sea could communication be maintained and reports
delivered. The Commander-in-Chief was reduced to a position of inactive
but restless security, all the more pitiable because, from the shelter
of the great battleship, telescopes revealed incidents of heroic
resolution in which it was impossible to share.
The day passed. In the evening the _Queen Elizabeth_ flung a violent
bombardment upon the defences of V Beach, bringing renewed courage to
the line of survivors still crouching under the bank. At midnight, Sir
Ian was called upon to take a decision as rapid as vital. It has been
already mentioned that rumours of evacuation went round Anzac cove at
sunset. The men were much exhausted by prolonged fighting, extreme
danger, and heavy loss; the battalions were mixed; ammunition was
running short; water, though brought ashore in boats, and already found
by digging in one or two places, was scarce, and had to be carried up
the cliffs on men’s backs; the wounded--over 2000 in number--though
energetically tended, as already mentioned, and taken off rapidly to
any available ship, still lay thick on the beach, or came dribbling
back from the heights; along the bit of coast, over sea and shore,
the shrapnel crashed and whirled perpetually; brave as the Anzacs
had proved themselves, they were new to battle. If evacuation was
unavoidable, now, at night, was the only possible time.
Sir Ian’s decision was unhesitating. The Turks were actually pressing
upon the Anzac lines. Evacuation could not remain secret, and would
take many hours. It would involve incalculable slaughter on the shore
and in the boats. It meant defeat. It meant withdrawal such as Lord
Kitchener had specially ordered him never to consider. It meant a
breach in any high-spirited soldier’s instinct. The command was quick.
Let them dig for their lives. Let them cling on like tigers. Help would
come in the morning.
[Sidenote: HOW ANZAC WAS HELD]
And in the morning help came. Just after daylight the _Queen
Elizabeth_ herself appeared off Anzac cove. For three hours she threw
her huge shrapnel from 15-in. guns, each shell flinging out a cone of
some 13,000 bullets far to both sides and front.[95] The _Triumph_ and
_Bacchante_ supported her. The Anzacs, outworn by the night struggle
against repeated charges, stood their ground with courage renewed.
Along the very edge of the steep cliff or ridge on the farther side of
Shrapnel Gully they furiously dug. Battalions and brigades remained
still confused. Men and groups fought or dug where they were wanted
at the nearest line. By extreme effort thus was gradually formed that
famous arc, or more properly triangle, which contained the Anzac of the
next three months. It had the beach as base, Pope’s Hill near the apex
(where a dangerous gap remained), Walker’s Ridge as one irregular side,
and the long and devious line through Quinn’s Post, M‘Laurin’s Hill,
and Bolton’s Hill to the coast as the other side, more irregular still.
The trenches began to afford some cover from shrapnel. A few 18-pounder
guns were dragged up hastily constructed paths, and placed right in
the firing line. But so continuous were the Turkish counter-attacks
throughout the whole of Monday and the greater part of Tuesday the 27th
that little attempt at reorganising the brigades was possible, the
only recognisable distribution being that as a whole the Australians
held the right side of the triangle, and the New Zealanders the left.
Even within our lines many Turkish snipers continued for some days
hidden in the scrub, maintained there by bags of provisions and
cartridges brought with them to the lairs. The main or Shrapnel Gully
was especially exposed to snipers of this kind and to more regular fire
from the Nek, a narrow connecting link between the chief Anzac ridges
and the main range of Sari Bair. To the last the southern end of the
gully on its right side was so harassed by rifle fire that it retained
its thick coating of scrub, as being too dangerous for dug-outs or any
movement of men. For this reason the gully was sometimes called by the
longer name of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and it appears to
have been while reconnoitring here that Colonel M‘Laurin, Brigadier of
the 1st Brigade, and Major Irvine, his Brigade-Major, were killed side
by side.[96]
The more regular attacks were chiefly aimed at the apex, near the top
of the gully, between Pope’s Hill and Quinn’s Post. The dominating
position of Pope’s Hill had been stormed early on Sunday by a party of
the 1st Battalion, and was taken over that evening by Colonel Pope with
a mixed force of 400 men, who proceeded to entrench it as the valuable
fortress which it remained. Quinn’s Post, always a point of danger,
being within a few yards of the enemy’s line, was gallantly held for
the first three days by a party of the 14th Battalion, and on Wednesday
(28th) was taken over by Major Quinn (15th Battalion).[97]
On Wednesday (April 28) the general reorganisation and sifting out of
Anzac could begin, but no attempt to reach the objective of Koja Chemen
Tepe (Hill 971, the highest point of the Sari Bair range) or to cross
the Peninsula to Maidos could then be made. In the fighting of Sunday
and Monday alone, the three Australian brigades had lost 4500 killed
and wounded. By Wednesday, at least one-fifth of the total force was
out of action. Fortunately for General Birdwood, the Anzacs could fill
up many gaps by the ten per cent. margin usually allotted to divisions
on active service, but refused to Sir Ian’s troops from home. Hardly
any amount of untried formations can reinforce an army in action so
serviceably as drafts added to divisions which have proved their
quality on the field, as the 29th had proved theirs.
[Sidenote: ADVANCE FROM V BEACH]
By early afternoon of Monday the 26th, the position at the south end
of the Peninsula had greatly improved. After dark on the previous
evening, the remainder of the landing force on V Beach had come
ashore, as already narrated, and though exposed to a violent outbreak
of fire under the clear moonlight about 1.30 a.m., they had found
better cover among the rocks at the foot of old Seddel Bahr castle. At
daylight, Admiral Wemyss opened a heavy bombardment upon the castle,
village, and slopes of the semicircular theatre. Thus encouraged, the
wearied relics of the Hampshires and Dublin and Munster Fusiliers
prepared for advance. To such an advance they were largely inspired
by Lieutenant-Colonel Doughty-Wylie and Lieutenant-Colonel Williams
of the Headquarter Staff, who, as narrated, had remained under the
parapet of sand all night to keep the men in good heart. Only magic
personality can organise a fresh assault out of hungry and thirsty men,
who have for the most part been lying under almost continuous fire for
twenty-four hours, and who leave more than half of their friends lying
dead or wounded behind them. Yet it was done. Led by Doughty-Wylie
and Captain Walford (Brigade-Major, 29th Divisional Artillery), the
men fought their way up into the village under a stream of rifle and
machine-gun fire, and from the village advanced to the attack of the
plateau above it. On the slope Captain Walford was killed. Between
the village and the summit, fearlessly leading the men forward,
Doughty-Wylie, a noble type of English soldier and administrator, was
killed in like manner.[98] Irreparable as was the loss of that knightly
figure, the attack pushed onward. By 2 p.m. Hill 141, the old castle,
and the battered village were securely gained. On the south-west side
of the theatre, connection with W Beach was confirmed, and V Beach
became a fairly safe landing-place at last.
[Illustration:
_Beresford_]
LIEUT.-COLONEL C. H. H. DOUGHTY-WYLIE]
[Sidenote: THE FRENCH AT V BEACH]
That evening and next day the French Corps began to disembark upon that
scene of death and persistent courage. To the end of the campaign,
V Beach remained the French landing-place and depôt for stores. The
French constructed a solid pier out to the bow of the _River Clyde_,
and kept also a gangway of lighters for approach to the floating
platforms under shelter of her port side. A British naval and a
military officer remained on board to direct the landing of troops
or stores and the embarkation of the wounded. The ship’s bridge was
fortified with sandbags, and as forming a north-east breakwater to the
small harbour the old collier performed useful service. Though fully
exposed to the Asiatic guns, she was rarely shelled, perhaps because
her funnel served as a guide to the gunners for dropping over the
headland heavy shells which burst upon W Beach. This they sometimes
did with deadly success. The remainder of V Beach and the sandy
theatre above it the French organised with characteristic exactness
and practical skill. Stores were arranged in faultless piles, and a
light railway for bringing up stone was laid along the shore to the
cliff of Cape Helles. The old castle served as a depôt for ammunition.
Compressed forage was piled up to limit the effect of shell-fire. In
everything except “sanitation” the arrangement of the French lines
surpassed ours. They were forbidden to our officers and men, but
between adjacent battalions friendly communication was frequent, and
by simple barter our tedious ration of apricot jam was frequently
exchanged for the French ration of a light red wine, though these
articles of exchange were received with scornful hilarity by each side.
On the 27th, two days after the landing, the whole line was able to
advance without opposition so as to cover all the landing beaches
except Y, which had so unfortunately been abandoned under extreme
pressure of numbers. The strong Turkish position at the mouth of the
Gully Ravine (“Gully Beach,” or “Y2”) was found deserted. The Turks
had withdrawn farther up the ravine, their flanks being now exposed
to an advance of the Royal Fusiliers from X or “Implacable Landing.”
At Gully Beach the left or western end of our line was accordingly
fixed, and the line extended for about three miles to the right, across
the Peninsula to the point S, or Eski Hissarlik. This point was soon
afterwards taken over by the French, who now put four battalions on
their front. The expansion of ground left room for a landing of stores
and guns upon the beaches, and also slightly increased the water
supply, a few old wells being discovered within the area, and new wells
dug. But, owing to the heavy losses, the men holding the front made but
a thin line of defence, and the want of water, here as at all points
throughout the campaign, remained a perpetual anxiety.
[Sidenote: KRITHIA AND THE SOUTHERN PENINSULA]
Worn out as his men were by Wednesday (the 28th) morning, almost
deprived of sleep since the Saturday before, reduced by heavy loss,
especially in officers, and calling in vain for reinforcements to
fill up their ranks, Sir Ian resolved to press forward upon the Turks
while they were still disorganised. At 8 a.m. a general advance was
ordered, the 29th Division moving forward on the left and centre,
with the deserted village of Krithia as objective, the French on the
right aiming to reach the western or right slope of Kereves Dere, a
broad and deep valley which runs down from the foot of Achi Baba and
issues into the strait about a mile above De Tott’s Battery (Eski
Hissarlik). Next to Seddel Bahr, the village of Krithia was the largest
collection of houses upon the end of the Peninsula. It stands on the
gradual slope leading up to Achi Baba, about four and a half miles from
Cape Helles, whence its grey walls and squat windmills are distinctly
visible. The land between the high plateau at Helles and the approaches
to Achi Baba falls from both ends into a long and shallow scoop, like
the inside of a flattish spoon. On the Ægean, or Xeros side, the rim
of the spoon looks fairly complete, though in fact it is broken at
the Gully Beach by the mouth of that long and hidden valley of Saghir
Dere or Gully Ravine. On the side of the strait the rim is much less
obvious, being broken at Morto Bay by the combined watercourses which
drain the western and central slopes of Achi Baba, and farther north
by the Kereves Dere. At the time of landing, the centre, or scoop of
the spoon, was still bright with grass and aromatic plants. Olive trees
were scattered over it, and here and there thin woods of stunted fir.
At one spot, near the bottom of the curve, rose large trees like elms,
which afforded a welcome grove of shade to the Royal Naval Division’s
headquarters during the greater part of the campaign. On the whole, the
French lines on our right were rather more thickly wooded than ours. At
rare intervals stood the ruins of some isolated cottage, surrounded by
a patch of cultivation for maize or vines.
Almost exactly down the centre ran the Krithia road from Seddel Bahr,
having the “Achi Baba nullah,” which runs into Morto Bay, close on
the right. Almost parallel to the road, at an average distance of 300
yards to the left or west side, runs the main or “Krithia” gully, which
drains the greater part of the central scoop, and also issues into
Morto Bay. A track, which became a road, ran beside this gully as far
as a dividing-point, called “Clapham Junction,” where the trickle of
water branched into East Krithia and West Krithia nullahs. Almost every
yard of this wide scoop of land was fully exposed to the guns on Achi
Baba, and some of it to the Asiatic guns as well. In consequence, as
the campaign continued, it rapidly became covered with a network of
trenches and dug-outs, looking like a vast graveyard, and terminating
in an almost inextricable maze at the front, where it was checked by
the Turkish system, equally elaborated. Except close to the front,
however, transport and other communications were always carried on
above ground; the grass was turned into sandy waste, and the paths
into roads thick with dust. About half-way between Cape Helles and
Krithia, the Peninsula was cut right across from sea to strait by the
Eski or Old Line, which crossed the Gully Ravine near Gully Farm, and
the Krithia nullah about 250 yards north of Clapham Junction, and ended
about a third of a mile below the mouth of Kereves Dere.
[Sidenote: ADVANCE OF APRIL 28]
Over this slightly hollow plain, and these roads and gullies then
unnamed, the advance of April 28 was made. The 87th Brigade led upon
the left or seacoast flank, and penetrated rapidly over the open
ground almost parallel to the Gully Ravine for nearly two miles. As
the K.O.S.B. and S.W. Borderers had been separately engaged at Y and S
Beaches, the Drake Battalion, R.N.D., took their place, the remainder
of the brigade consisting only of the 1st Border Regiment and 1st
Inniskillings. The 88th Brigade was on their right; the 86th, which
had covered the first landings, was held in reserve under Colonel
Casson (S.W. Borderers). In spite of weariness and the prolonged shock
of battle, the relics of this unsurpassed Division advanced sturdily
against increasing opposition; but by midday their progress was
stopped. Small parties came within a short distance of Krithia, but
the 86th Brigade reinforced them in vain. There is a human limit even
for the bravest; ammunition ran short, and could not be brought up;
and only a few guns had yet been landed. The brigades, accordingly,
made a rough line conforming with the 88th in the centre, and the
hope of reaching Achi Baba faded, though near fulfilment. The French
on our right had reached the approaches to Kereves Dere, but an
attempt to advance towards Krithia failed. In the afternoon the Turks
counter-attacked with the bayonet, and the French line shook. A rapid
retirement exposed the Worcesters to heavy loss on their right flank,
and a line had to be rapidly secured from a point about three miles
up the coast from Tekke Bornu to a point about a mile farther up the
strait than De Tott’s Battery. Here it rested, and two days were spent
in strengthening the defences and sorting out the confused battalions.
In order to encourage the worn-out divisions (for it was impossible
for any soldiers to maintain the spirit of the first landing without
flagging), Sir Ian issued the following order on April 29:
“I rely on all officers and men to stand firm and steadfastly to
resist the attempts 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 prepare for a decisive
victory.”
[Sidenote: A TURKISH COUNTER-ATTACK]
The enemy was not long in taking up the challenge. On the 29th, Sir Ian
visited the front lines at Helles and Anzac with his personal staff.
Next day he visited the British position at Helles again, and on May
1 the French lines in the same manner. There he found the trenches
in the firing line incomplete compared with ours, but the celebrated
“75’s” were already in action, and from that time onwards the French
gunners, never being stinted in shells, were the envy as well as the
admiration of our artillery. On May 1 also the promised reinforcements
began to arrive, the 29th Indian Infantry Brigade from Egypt, under
Major-General Sir Herbert Cox, being the first comers. Hardly had they
taken their position as reserve, with some battalions of the R.N.D.,
when, in the darkness before the waning moon had risen, the Turks
began a furious attack upon the whole French and British front. The
Turks’ enthusiasm in defence of their splendid city (for the fate
of Constantinople was involved) had been further stimulated by the
following proclamation over the signature of their German commandant,
General von Löwenstern:
“Attack the enemy with the bayonet and utterly destroy him!
“We shall not retire one step; for, if we do, our religion, our
country, and our nation will perish!
“Soldiers! The world is looking at you! Your only hope of salvation
is to bring this battle to a successful issue or gloriously to give
up your life in the attempt.”
The Turks responded to this appeal with unusual hardihood in
attack, and it was evident that the best Nizam troops were now on
the Peninsula. For this attack 16,000 were employed, with 2000 in
reserve.[99] They came on in three solid lines. All crawled on hands
and knees till the word was given, and the front was allowed no
cartridges, but bayonets only. Their first charge aimed in the centre
at the 86th Brigade, so much shaken by loss of men and officers. Here
they forced a gap, dangerous had not the 5th Royal Scots at once
filled it. This battalion (88th Brigade), under Lieutenant-Colonel
J. D. R. Wilson, was the only Territorial unit in the 29th Division.
It was anxious to prove itself worthy of that unequalled corps, and
now it proved itself. Facing to their right flank, the men charged
with the bayonet, the Essex (of the same brigade) supporting them.
The next attack fell heavily upon the Senegalese, immediately on our
right. Two battalions of the Worcesters (also 88th Brigade) were sent
to strengthen the line, and later in the night one R.N.D. battalion
reinforced the extreme right of the French.
Between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m., the conflict appeared strangely terrific.
The boom and flash of guns, the ceaseless repetition of machine-guns
and rifles, the shouts of “Allah! Allah!” answered by British cheers
and the yells of savage Africans, the liquid brilliance of star shells,
the Bengal lights, red, white, and green, fired by Turkish officers
from their pistols as signals to their gunners to lengthen range, or
to avoid firing on taken trenches and main positions--all produced the
din and spectacle of some battle in hell, lit by infernal fireworks.
To spectators on the ships or the high ground in our rear, the scene
was the more terrible as the bursting shells and variegated lights came
farther and farther into the hollow land, down the centre of which the
Allies were being forced.
[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF THE 42ND DIVISION]
But with approaching light the worst was over, and at dawn the whole
of the Allied line advanced to counter-attack. The British forced
their way onward for about a quarter of a mile. But the French made no
progress. Machine-guns and barbed wire were used by the Turkish defence
with deadly result, and before noon the whole of our line was withdrawn
to its former position. It had been an appalling night for both forces,
and the Turks spent the next day burying their dead under the Red
Crescent. That night and the next (May 2 and 3) violent attacks were
repeated, especially upon the French front, and terrifying rumours of
disaster flew. On May 4 the 2nd Naval Brigade, R.N.D. (under Commodore
Backhouse, R.N.), took over part of the French line, and the whole
position was reorganised. Next day the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade
(East Lancashire Division) disembarked as welcome reinforcement. While
Sir Ian was in Egypt he had watched this Division (the 42nd) with
admiration, and now, by order from Lord Kitchener, General Maxwell sent
it in his support. Barely in time they began to arrive. The Division
was under command of Major-General Sir William Douglas, and consisted
of the Lancashire Fusiliers (125th Brigade), the East Lancashire
(126th), and the Manchester (127th). All were Territorials.[100]
While the British and French were thus strengthening their hold upon
the southern end of the Peninsula, the Anzacs clung desperately to
the rugged triangle which was to be “a thorn in the enemy’s side.”
By Friday, the 30th, units had been sorted out, the firing line was
reinforced by the 1st Light Horse Brigade (Brigadier-General Chauvel)
and by four battalions of the R.N.D. Part of the original fighting
line, worn out by continuous firing, digging, sleeplessness, and want
of warm food, was withdrawn into sheltered gullies to cook and rest.
For the next day (May 1) a general advance was ordered. The Australian
Division on the right was to make for the villages Koja Dere and
Boghali, the mixed Australian and New Zealand Division on the left
to attempt the main Sari Bair ridge, leading up to the dominating
heights of Chunuk and Koja Tepe. On the previous evening, however,
General Monash, commanding the 4th Brigade, and defending the serious
gap in the lines at the top of Shrapnel Gully, protested that such a
movement would only extend the gap still more dangerously. As it was,
the R.N.D. battalions, which had been thrust in to hold this gap at
the triangle’s apex, were at that moment very hard pressed, and after
further reconnoitring both General Godley and General Bridges appear
to have agreed that the contemplated advance was impracticable. At all
events it was not attempted.[101]
[Illustration: ANZAC COVE]
[Sidenote: ATTEMPT TO ADVANCE ANZAC LINES]
To close that gap at the apex was obviously the first essential move,
and on Sunday, May 2 (a week after the landing), a determined effort
was made. The objective was a round knoll, known as Baby 700, on
the slope of Sari Bair. It stood about three hundred yards beyond
the lines on Pope’s Hill, and its possession would have blocked the
entrance from which the enemy commanded large sections of Monash
Gully and Shrapnel Gully. The attempt began at 7 p.m. with a rapid
bombardment, and throughout the night the Australians of the 13th and
16th Battalions endeavoured to storm the terrible position. The Otago
Battalion was sent in support; then part of the Nelson (R.N.D.), and
after midnight the Portsmouth and Chatham (R.M.L.I.). The Australians
gained some trenches near the Bloody Angle, but the plateau had by
now been carefully fortified with wire and machine-guns. It was
impossible for our destroyers, firing up the length of Shrapnel Gully,
to distinguish friend from foe. Five shells, perhaps coming from
them, temporarily checked and divided the Portsmouth Battalion in its
advance. It was speedily rallied, but under the heavy machine-gun and
rifle fire no support was able to establish the position at the Bloody
Angle. Parties of the 13th, 16th, and Otago Battalions clung to the
edges of the steep ascent till far into May 3. But in the end, all
survivors returned to the original lines. The attempt failed, and it
cost 800 men.[102] On the following day (May 4) an effort to seize Gaba
Tepe and end the continuous loss inflicted by its shrapnel upon the
beach and upon bathers in Anzac Cove also failed, owing to the mass
and strength of wire along the edge of the sea. Meantime, the warships
had been continuously assisting all troops on sea and land. On the
27th the _Queen Elizabeth_, hearing from a seaplane that the _Goeben_
had ventured down the strait, apparently with the object of firing
over the Peninsula, forestalled that intention by dropping one of her
largest shells from near Gaba Tepe into the strait. Narrowly missed,
the _Goeben_ retired under shelter of the steep shore, but the _Queen
Elizabeth’s_ second shell sank a transport in the middle of the current.
By May 5 the phase of the landing was completed. A firm hold had been
gained upon the end of the Peninsula and at Anzac. The world’s history
had been enriched by hardly credible examples of courage, _élan_, and
the fortitude of endurance which Napoleon accounted a more valuable
quality in soldiers than courage and _élan_. But the objects specified
in the scheme of attack had not been gained. The Turks were still at
Krithia. They still held the lines drawn across the slopes of Achi
Baba. Koja Dere and Boghali were still far from the eager youths
clinging like flies to the Anzac cliffs. Maidos was farther beyond,
nor was the fleet a cable’s length nearer to the Narrows than before.
It was evident to all that the campaign, deprived of the incalculable
advantage of surprise by the hesitation, delay, and disapproval or
indifference at home, would now be long and costly in life. Already in
ten days the losses were officially reckoned:
Killed. Wounded. Missing.
Officers 177 412 13
Men 1990 7807 3580
These figures give a total casualty list of 13,979. The loss may be
realised by another table. On April 30 the Fusilier Brigade (86th) of
the 29th Division, out of a normal strength of 104 officers and about
4000 men, mustered as follows:
Officers. Men.
2nd Royal Fusiliers 12 481
1st Lancashire Fusiliers 11 399
1st Royal Munster Fusiliers 12 596
1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers 1 374
-- ----
36 1850[103]
[Sidenote: THE WOUNDED UNDERESTIMATED]
For no such numbers of casualties had estimate or preparation been
made. The casualties, in fact, amounted to something like three times
the estimate, and the treatment of the wounded became a serious, if
not insoluble, difficulty. In his dispatch, Sir Ian notices that his
“Administrative Staff had not reached Mudros by the time when the
landings were finally arranged.” We have seen that they did not reach
Alexandria from home till April 1; that they were left there to embark
the remaining troops and complete the base hospital arrangements, and
did not reach Mudros till April 18. The Administrative Staff included
Brigadier-General E. M. Woodward, who, as Deputy Adjutant-General, was
ultimately responsible for all questions of personnel and casualties.
And it included Surgeon-General W. E. Birrell, who, as Director of
Military Services, was immediately responsible for the treatment of
the wounded. In the absence of these officers, Sir Ian says “all the
highly elaborate work involved by these landings was put through by my
General Staff working in collaboration with Commodore Roger Keyes,” who
was Chief of the Staff to Admiral de Robeck. But Lieutenant-Colonel
A. E. C. Keble, R.A.M.C., Assistant Director of Medical Services,
reached Mudros before the chief officers of the Administrative Staff,
and to him, as above noticed, the scheme for dealing with the wounded
was due. Merely owing to a mistaken estimate of the enemy’s opposition,
the means provided were inadequate for the actual numbers. As we have
seen, only two hospital ships, each accommodating about 500 cases,
had been allotted for the army. The navy lent two more, and supplied
such transport as could now be spared, but these were not fitted with
hospital necessities. Doctors, nurses, and orderlies, all were short.
Army surgeons and stretcher-bearers displayed their fine devotion in
bringing the wounded to the beaches both at Helles and Anzac; but in
spite of the navy’s energy and fearlessness in control of the boats,
many of the wounded remained waiting long for treatment; in one case a
fleet-sweeper crowded with Australian wounded went wandering from ship
to ship in vain, and at last tied up against the General Headquarters
ship (at that time, May 9, the _Arcadian_, to which Sir Ian had
transferred); and upon the transports taking them to Alexandria--a
voyage of two to three days and nights--the wounded suffered much.
Many were unable to move without help, and no help was there. Most
had been treated only with first dressings. In some cases the wounds
corrupted. Many died. Warships, like the _Cornwallis_, afforded as much
room as they could, acting as clearing-stations for the wounded, and
transmitting the dead to a trawler which daily went round the fleet to
collect them.[104] The efforts of the fleet surgeons were untiring. But
no scheme and no effort could avail against a false estimate of the
enemy’s strength and defensive power. Rightly or wrongly, the campaign
had from the first been regarded in London as of secondary importance,
and secondary provision had been made for an estimate of secondary loss.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: AUTHORITIES]
My main authorities for this chapter, as for the last, have been the
Dispatches of Sir Ian Hamilton and Admiral de Robeck, Mr. Ashmead
Bartlett’s _Dispatches from the Dardanelles_, the late Phillip
Schuler’s _Australia in Arms_, the Rev. D. Creighton’s _With the
Twenty-ninth Division in Gallipoli_, _The Immortal Gamble_, by
Commander A. T. Stewart, R.N., and the Rev. C. J. E. Peshall, _With
Machine-guns in Gallipoli_, by Lieutenant-Commander Josiah Wedgwood,
M.P., and my own observation of the ground and conversations with
eye-witnesses on the spot.