SIR IAN’S RECALL
Upon the Peninsula, it was difficult to estimate the general spirit
of the army during the six weeks which followed the valiant but only
partially successful efforts of August. They were a period of enforced
inactivity seldom interrupted, and the usual effect of inactivity upon
an army, as upon civilians, is depression. During the campaign it was
often observed that in most Divisions the prospect of action, however
perilous, at once reduced the sickness, as though to prove tedium
more unwholesome than death. But in September tedium supervened, and
the diseases of dysentery and diarrhœa, always prevalent since June,
spread like a plague. The average of serious cases rose to 1000 a day,
and though by far the greater number of the patients returned to duty,
the percentage of “casualties” from sickness alone was in some weeks
calculated at 300 per annum of the total force, so that large drafts
were required to maintain the army even at its shrunken strength. It
must also be remembered that both these diseases have a peculiarly
depressing effect upon the spirit, weakening the will equally with
the bodily powers. Certainly it was expected that the approach of
winter would compel the perilous germs to hibernate in torpor, and
would reduce the multitude of flies which now enjoyed a livelihood so
rich and unexpected upon that desert land. But in other respects the
prospect of a winter campaign was not exhilarating.
[Sidenote: SICKNESS AND MONOTONOUS FOOD]
The Indians stood the climate far better than the British or
Australians, either as vegetarians or as habituated to the sun and
protected by their colour, whereas the Australians and many of the
British sought to avoid heat by going naked, and so exposed their white
skins to the unaccustomed and baleful rays. Life in the bazaar or
jungle had also rendered Indians immune to diseases against which our
civilisation stands unprotected, and flies did not pursue the cleanly
food of Hindus and Sikhs with the same persistent avidity. If some
of the British troops upon the Peninsula had been exchanged for the
Indian troops serving in France and Flanders, both armies would have
gained in health. But perhaps a greater cause of disease than sun or
flies or infection was the monotony of the diet, as mentioned before.
Sir Ian’s appeals for canteens remained unheard till August 30, when a
canteen-ship actually appeared at Anzac. Deputed purchasers from every
unit hurried down to buy. Bursting with money, they stood in queues,
but none received more than one-sixth of what he asked, and, as in
a starving town, scarcity laughed at cash. But after the arrival of
that one shipload of variety, the numbers of sick suddenly fell, and
ultimately ten shiploads came. Allowance must also be made for the
arrival of the 2nd Australian Division, which raised the average of
health, until the infection spread among its members also; and that was
soon.
But more disheartening even than inactivity or disease was the
disappearance of the dead and wounded. During August some 40,000--about
one-third of the whole force--had gone. Entirely sufficient provision
had now been made for the wounded alike in the largely increased
number of hospital ships running to Alexandria, and in the hospital
camps established near Suvla A Beach (too near the Hill 10 batteries)
and on two positions along the Suvla promontory (also disturbed by
shells owing to the proximity of store depôts, landing-places, and
Corps Headquarters); at well-sheltered points along the Ocean Beach,
near Anzac; upon the flats at the end of Kephalos Bay, in Imbros; and
especially on the breezy rising ground overlooking Mudros harbour on
the opposite side to Mudros town. The dead either lay beyond reach,
gradually shrinking to dust on “No Man’s Land,” or were buried in
carefully tended little cemeteries, their graves marked with wooden
crosses and decorated with shell-cases or white stones arranged in
patterns. Brief as regret and lamentation must be in war, it is
melancholy to return to familiar dug-outs and find that the familiar
occupants have gone, leaving possessions which they will not need
again, and perhaps a written notice to warn off intruders from the
deserted habitation. The sense of loss was especially poignant at
Anzac, where, united by the bonds of adventure and nationality, the men
had lived as in a crowded community of fellowship.
[Sidenote: DISADVANTAGES OF NEW DRAFTS]
Drafts came, but though the drafts were small they sometimes
overwhelmed the original battalions, and, partly owing to the
unavoidable suspension of drill, they were long in imbibing a good
battalion’s spirit.[215] Even more serious was the necessity of
hurrying new drafts at once into advanced positions. In a note written
at Helles on August 30, after visiting the lines before Krithia, I
observed:
“A newly arrived draft has usually to join the rest of the battalion
in the trenches or firing line at once. The men know nothing of the
realities of war and weather. Shells and bullets affect them as
they affect every one at first, and most people to the end. The sun
strikes through them like X-rays. Dust fills their eyes and mouths.
Flies cover their food, and keep them irritated and sleepless. In
the advanced trenches, ten to one they get little beyond biscuit
and bully beef, with an occasional share in an onion or pot of jam.
Diarrhœa begins to affect them. They grow weak and their spirit
sinks. In that condition they are probably called upon to resist or
deliver an attack against a tough race of semi-barbarous soldiers
famous at trench fighting for generations.”
Interrupted by only few cool and rainy days, the heat continued
through September, and the victims to dysentery increased. The shadow
of approaching winter also lay upon the army, and its horrors were
exaggerated, partly through the classic reputation of inhospitable
Thrace, partly by the inexperience of the Anzacs, who had never seen
snow or endured cold. More serious than cold was the anticipated
downpour of rain, which would convert our roads along ravines into
torrents, and fill the dusty communication trenches with mud.
Unhappily, owing to the steep ascent to such positions as Quinn’s
Post, and the far longer climb to the Apex, where we still clung to
a scarcely tenable position overhanging the Farm below the summit of
Chunuk Bair, the chief hardships of winter were likely to fall upon
Anzac, where the men were least accustomed to resist them. In a note
during the first week of September I observed:
“If we remain through the winter, Anzac will need looking to. Cement,
solid iron plates, corrugated iron to support sandbag roofs, timber
such as the Turks already use for trenches, careful and difficult
drainage in a country where the dry watercourses which become
torrents in winter are now used as roads, spiked boots to climb the
slimy paths now deep in dust--all must be prepared. The daily toil,
already severe, will be much increased, and the fighting force can
hardly be expected to carry it out. A crowd of ordinary labourers
will be needed.”
Gangs of Egyptian labourers were, in fact, brought to Imbros and set to
work upon the main road through the camps there.
As to numbers, at the end of August we had 83,000, including 15,000
French troops, on the Peninsula, as against an estimate of 100,000
Turks there, with 25,000 in reserve. During September, a few small but
serviceable units arrived, such as the Scottish Horse (about 3000 men
unmounted) under their commandant, the Marquis of Tullibardine; the
1st and 2nd Regiments of “Lovat’s Scouts,” under Lord Lovat, between
whose force and Lord Tullibardine’s a rivalry as of old Highland
clans persists; a brigade of East and West Kent and Sussex Yeomanry
(Brigadier-General Clifton-Browne); a South-Western Mounted Brigade
of North Devons, Royal 1st Devons, and West Somersets; and the 1st
Newfoundlanders’ Battalion (Colonel Burton) attached to the 29th
Division. These units, together with drafts, brought the forces upon
the Peninsula up to about half their nominal strength at the end of
September. In the beginning of that month, two brigades of the 10th
Division’s artillery also arrived at last. The 55th was stationed at
Helles, the 56th at Suvla.[216] But even so, on September 10, there
were only 60 guns at Suvla in place of the full complement of 340.
[Sidenote: BYNG IN COMMAND OF IXTH CORPS]
None the less, in spite of inactivity, sickness, and the
discouragement of decreasing strength, the Divisions continued to
improve. The improvement was most marked in the 53rd Division (now
under Major-General Marshall), the 54th (still under Major-General
Inglefield), and the 11th (now under Major-General E. A. Fanshawe).
The 13th Division, which had done so well at Anzac under Major-General
Shaw, was sure only to increase its reputation under so fine and
ardent a commandant as Major-General Stanley Maude. Finally, there was
Major-General Sir Julian Byng, who arrived from his cavalry command
in France together with Generals Maude and Fanshawe on August 23. He
took over the command of the IXth Corps at Suvla from Major-General De
Lisle, who returned to his 29th Division, which was retained at Suvla,
except that the brigades went separately to the rest camp on Imbros.
Every one expected the order for fresh advance so soon as the new
Generals had thoroughly re-established confidence and the IXth Corps
Staff had recovered a more sanguine temper. As is usual in times of
inaction, rumours flew. The French, it was stated, were sending out
new Divisions under General Sarrail. Another landing was to be made
on the Asiatic coast, perhaps at Kum Kali, perhaps at Smyrna, more
likely at Adramyti Bay, a scheme much favoured by authorities in
Mitylene. Another very persistent rumour was for sending the fleet
up the Dardanelles again, and hope rose high in the Navy, tired and
irritated at their effective but subsidiary service to the military
force. Meantime, the actual fighting was limited to the stationary
trench warfare of bombing, casual bombardments, and local assault or
defence on either side. It gradually became evident that the fate of
the expedition depended no longer upon itself, but upon events and
speculations far removed from the scene.[217]
[Sidenote: EFFECT OF EUROPEAN EVENTS]
On the Western Front, the Allied armies were occupied through September
in preparing for the combined effort which culminated during the last
week of the month in the prolonged battles known by the names of Loos
and Champagne. As I before noticed, it was mainly for fear of weakening
this effort that British reinforcements were refused to Sir Ian, and
that the scheme of advancing on the Asiatic side of the Straits with
new French Divisions was abandoned, if ever seriously intended by the
High Command in France. The efforts so carefully prepared and gallantly
carried out succeeded in gaining valuable positions for future advance,
but were not sufficiently successful to break through the German line
or to diminish the increasing peril of Near Eastern complications.
It would be difficult to compute the exact proportion of the men and
explosives thus expended without definite result in France which might
have effected a decisive and permanent victory in the Dardanelles;
but the proportion would not have been high, and how beneficent the
issue for the world’s history! Successive disasters upon the Russian
Front continued to encourage the military parties in the Balkan
States which trusted to German victory for the furtherance of their
national aggrandisement. In August the Russian armies were driven from
Warsaw, Kovno, and Brest-Litovsk; in September from Grodno and Vilna.
Although their skilful retirement won military praise, and although the
exhausted German forces were unable to break the lines beyond their
points of advance, or even to occupy Riga, it was evident that from
Russia neither danger to her enemies nor assistance to her friends
could be expected, even though her unmilitary and vacillating Autocrat
assumed command. The encouraging effect of such events as the fall of
Warsaw upon the Turkish _moral_ was distinctly marked.
In the Balkan Peninsula, fate was supposed still to hang upon the
decision of Bulgaria--a decision secretly taken two months before
(July 17), although Ferdinand, with lachrymose solicitude, continued
to profess the neutrality of a fox between two packs of hounds. From
the first, both belligerents had rightly calculated that, in spite of
the strong national sympathy with England and Russia inherited by the
Bulgarian people, their Tsar, if not their representative Government,
could be won by the highest bidder for alliance, and each side
attempted to outbid the other with profuse offers of other people’s
territory. But when, in mid-September, England and her Allies proposed
the cession of Serbian territory at Monastir (a mainly Bulgarian
district), Doiran and Ghevgheli (mainly Turkish in race), and part of
the Dobrudja, then occupied by Roumania, they had been forestalled by
more tempting promises from Turkey and the Central Powers. To the force
of such temptation was added the animosity rankling in all Bulgarian
hearts against the neighbouring states which two years before (August
1913), by the Treaty of Bucharest, had torn from their country the
reward of her decisive victories over the Turk in 1912. Especially
against Serbia was this animosity directed, and one might have supposed
that even a slight acquaintance with the Balkan States would have
warned the Allied Governments of Serbia’s extreme and imminent peril.
Yet up to September 20 they continued to hope.
[Sidenote: ATTITUDE OF BULGARIA AND GREECE]
On that day, M. Radoslavoff announced that Bulgaria had signed a treaty
with Turkey, but would maintain an armed neutrality for the protection
of her frontiers. No one, except perhaps the British Government,
was deceived as to the real intention. On September 19 a large
German-Austrian army under Field-Marshal von Mackensen had renewed
the attack upon Serbia’s capital, and Bulgaria after mobilising her
350,000 rifles could strike at Serbia’s exposed eastern flank almost
without opposition from the exhausted Serbian army. Serbia’s one poor
chance was to attack her hereditary enemy at once, before the Germans
had crossed the rivers in the north. But from this course England
discouraged her, and, with unfounded confidence, she awaited the
assistance due from Greece according to her treaty of 1913. But Greece,
always so justly apprehensive of warlike risks, was presented with a
passable means of escape by her own warrior King, that “Bulgar-slayer”
and “Napoleon of the East,” whose titles belied his earlier reputation
as a leader of panic-stricken flight at Larissa in April 1897.
As a result of the Greek elections in June, when his supporters were
returned to power by a two-thirds majority, Venizelos had resumed the
Premiership in the middle of August. Clearly perceiving the enemy’s
intention of overwhelming the relics of the Serbian forces by armies
converging from the north and east, he imagined that Greece was bound
by honour and treaty to hasten to her ally’s protection. Greece could
nominally mobilise eighteen Divisions, but their fighting strength
was probably not over 200,000, for the most part ill-equipped,
ill-instructed, and averse from war. Of the Serbian army probably
little over 100,000 organised and disciplined troops was left after the
struggles of a year. The German-Austrian invaders were estimated at
200,000; the Bulgarians at 300,000, or perhaps not more than 250,000,
since the Roumanian frontier needed watching. Attacked on two fronts,
Serbia’s strategic position, in any case perilous, became desperate
with such inferior numbers. In his zeal for the Serbian alliance, which
he recognised as the ultimate defence of Greece herself, Venizelos
called upon the Entente to furnish 150,000 men (September 21), and two
days later induced King Constantine to mobilise.
On September 28 Sir Edward Grey spoke in the House of Commons, the most
significant part of his speech being the sentence:
“If the Bulgarian mobilisation were to result in Bulgaria assuming an
aggressive attitude on the side of our enemies, we are prepared to
give to our friends in the Balkans all the support in our power in
the manner that would be most welcome to them, in concert with our
Allies, without reserve and without qualification.”[218]
[Sidenote: BRITISH & FRENCH DIVISIONS FOR SALONIKA]
Our friends in the Balkans can only have been Serbia and Greece. The
support most welcome to them was men, but arms, money, and equipment
were welcome. To provide the men, Lord Kitchener asked Sir Ian if he
could spare two British Divisions and one French for Salonika. Sir Ian
replied by offering the 53rd (Welsh) and the 10th (Irish) Divisions.
The French offered their 2nd Division on the Peninsula (156), and
the veteran General Bailloud, anxious for fresh fields of youthful
ambition, claimed command.
The 10th Division--perhaps the pick of the New Army troops on the
Peninsula--being ordered to sail at once, embarked on September 30,
and, though passing by way of Mudros, was able to land its first
detachments at Salonika on October 5, finding two French Divisions
already there.[219] General Bailloud’s Division, leaving on October
3, began to reach the rendezvous on the same day. There the whole
force soon came under the command of General Sarrail, who arrived on
October 12, and it was shortly afterwards augmented by other French and
British Divisions, two of which were believed to have left England as
reinforcements for Sir Ian, but to have been diverted to the new scene
of action upon their way.[220]
So far as the immediate protection of Serbia was concerned, the
Allied force thus hurried over from Gallipoli--not more than 15,000
men[221]--was almost an absurdity, though its arrival caused futile
rejoicing among the Serbian people. Its only possible service was to
inspire some sort of confidence in a Greek army hastening to save the
ally of Greece from destruction. But the Greek army did not hasten. On
September 28 (the day of Sir Edward Grey’s speech) Venizelos announced
the necessity of mobilisation. On October 3 Russia issued an ultimatum
to Bulgaria warning her to break off relations with the Central Powers
and dismiss their officers from Sofia. Two days later, the Entente
withdrew their representatives, and Bulgaria entered the war as an
ally of Germany, though England did not actually declare war upon her
till October 15. But on the very day upon which Bulgaria’s intentions
were declared, an unexpected blow, which might have been expected,
fell. King Constantine informed Venizelos that he did not support the
policy of intervention. “I do not wish to assist Serbia,” he said,
“because Germany will be victorious, and I do not wish to be defeated.”
After pleading the cause of honour and probable advantage, not for
the first time in vain, Venizelos resigned, and M. Zaimis, a peaceful
banker, formed a Government based on a neutrality of “complete and
sincere benevolence” toward the Western Allies.[222]
[Sidenote: BULGARIAN INVASION OF SERBIA]
It was in vain that on October 7 England again offered to cede Cyprus
to Greece as a tempting inducement to fulfil the claims of honour.
The King could only repeat his sentiment of “complete and sincere
benevolence,” while, as for honour, he maintained a benevolent
correspondence, at least equally complete and sincere, with the Court
and General Staff in Berlin. He further soothed the conscientious
scruples of his people--a task well within the limits of his
capacity--by pointing out that the treaty with Serbia did indeed bind
them to resist an attack upon her by Bulgaria, but not an invasion
supported by other Powers. Once again the people of Greece had cause
to congratulate themselves upon possessing a monarch resolute enough
to resist the popular will, and adroit enough to interpret the code of
honour in accordance with their interests and their conscience. It was
true that the most complete and sincere benevolence, as practised by
the Greek officers and officials at Salonika, was designed to hinder
rather than assist the small and war-worn body of Allies now landing
there. So far as saving Serbia went, their landing had now become a
belated and unserviceable chivalry. But a King’s function is to further
the interests of his own people, and Greeks might fairly hope to derive
material advantage from the presence of a lavishly expensive foreign
army in their port; and they derived it.[223]
As any one with some knowledge of Macedonia, Drama, and the Bulgarian
frontier might have anticipated, the objects of the Salonika adventure
were frustrated from the outset. Serbia was not saved; Bulgaria was not
penetrated; the enemy’s communication with Sofia and Constantinople
was not threatened. Salonika certainly was rescued from Austrian or
Bulgarian occupation; the enemy was thwarted of its possible use as
a submarine base (a dubious possibility, as many naval authorities
thought); the Entente retained some hold, however small, upon the
Balkan Peninsula, and could treat their position as a fulcrum for
levering the Greek monarch from his throne. Those were the only
advantages, and one may estimate them as considerable. But upon the far
grander strategic conception of the Dardanelles, the Salonika project
fell like a headsman’s blow. Little life was left beyond the subsiding
spasms of a decapitated man. Balked of reinforcement, deprived of
half the French contingent and one among his finest new Divisions, Sir
Ian called up all his reserve of indomitable hopefulness--a General’s
finest quality--for the support of himself and the army that still
remained, however diminished. But the powers of darkness gathered
round. In front lay the Turks, soon to be supplied with more German
officers, more heavy guns, high explosives, and food. Close around him,
and at the centre in London, unexpected figures could be discerned
moving in obscurity, whispering despair, and suggesting disaster
with the malign satisfaction of prophets whose gloomy forebodings
fulfil their prognostications. It became evident that a General’s
essential supports--the confidence and zealous co-operation of his own
Government, never very enthusiastic in Sir Ian’s case--were melting
away faster even than his army.
The Turks, on their side, evidently knew that the Irish and French
Divisions were going and had gone; for the morning after the departure
of the last detachments their aeroplanes dropped messages over the
Indian encampments telling the Indians that they were being abandoned
only to have their throats cut on the Peninsula. Otherwise, except
for occasional air-raids to drop bombs upon the General Headquarters
at Imbros, the impenetrable Turks remained quiescent, perhaps already
calculating that the Peninsula would be relieved of invaders without
their stir, or perhaps merely awaiting the supply of big guns and
ammunition, soon to be so easily transmitted by way of Nish and Sofia.
Their very silence was ominous; but more ominous still, for the
moment, seemed a violent southerly gale which on the night of October
8–9 swept away the two landing-piers at Anzac, sank the valuable
water-lighters there, and drove three of the motor-“beetles” ashore at
Suvla. Happily, the Australians had recently constructed a new pier in
the bay north of Ari Burnu, sheltered from the south wind by that small
promontory. There supplies could be landed in any weather both for
Suvla and Anzac, but the storm presaged evil for the approaching winter.
[Sidenote: KITCHENER INQUIRES ABOUT EVACUATION]
Two days later (on October 11) Lord Kitchener telegraphed asking
Sir Ian for an estimate of the losses which would be involved in an
evacuation of the Peninsula. After consultation with Major-General
Braithwaite, his Chief of Staff, and other members of the Staff,
Sir Ian replied that the probable loss was estimated at 50 per
cent. No estimate could be anything but a guess. All depended upon
incalculable weather and incalculable Turks. Earlier in the campaign,
General Gouraud had estimated a loss of two Divisions out of six
in case of evacuation at Helles. In any case, Sir Ian replied on
October 12 in terms showing that such a step as evacuation was to him
unthinkable.[224] Apart from losses, evacuation would release an army
of the best Turkish troops for renewed attack in Mesopotamia or Egypt,
to say nothing of the Caucasus and Persia. The risk to our position
throughout Asia, dependent as it was upon prestige rather than power,
had in such a case also to be gravely considered.
On October 16 Lord Kitchener again telegraphed, saying that the War
Council wished to make a change in the command. As he afterwards
informed Sir Ian, “the Government desired a fresh, unbiased
opinion, from a responsible Commander, upon the question of early
evacuation.”[225] To supply this fresh, unbiased opinion they had
appointed General Sir Charles Monro, with Major-General Lynden-Bell as
his Chief of Staff. Until their arrival, General Birdwood was to assume
command on the Peninsula.
During the morning of the 17th General Brulard, who had succeeded
General Bailloud in command of the French contingent, came over to
Imbros with his Staff to say good-bye. Generals Davies and Byng, with
the Staffs of the VIIIth and IXth Corps, followed. To say good-bye to
his own Staff, Sir Ian rode to the new Headquarters at the entrance of
the main valley across the bay, whither he was himself to have removed
that very afternoon. To the army he issued the following special order
as farewell:
[Sidenote: SIR IAN LEAVES THE PENINSULA]
“On handing over the command of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force
to General Sir Charles Monro, the Commander-in-Chief wishes to say
a few farewell words to the Allied troops, with many of whom he has
now for so long been associated. First, he would like them to know
his deep sense of the honour it has been to command so fine an army
in one of the most arduous and difficult campaigns which have ever
been undertaken; secondly, he must express to them his admiration of
the noble response which they have invariably given to the calls he
has made upon them. No risk has been too desperate; no sacrifice too
great. Sir Ian Hamilton thanks all ranks, from Generals to private
soldiers, for the wonderful way they have seconded his efforts to
lead them towards that decisive victory which, under their new Chief,
he has the most implicit confidence they will achieve.”
On the _Triad_ he said good-bye to Admiral de Robeck, and to Commodore
Roger Keyes, the Admiral’s Chief of Staff. He then embarked on the
cruiser _Chatham_. As she passed down Kephalos Bay, each of the war
vessels manned ship in salute. Cape Kephalos was rounded; Suvla, Anzac,
and the Helles of the landings were seen by their Commander-in-Chief
for the last time, and the Peninsula, which had been the dramatic stage
of such high hopes, noble achievement, and bitter frustration, faded in
the distance, as the living events there enacted were already fading
into a story of the past.
_Note._--After the failure of the military operations in August,
a section of responsible naval officers, foremost among whom were
Admiral Wemyss and Sir John de Robeck’s Chief of the Staff, Commodore
Keyes, held very strongly that the fleet should renew the attempt to
force the Straits in order to relieve the army. A plan of operations
had been worked out, with the assent of Sir John de Robeck. It was
thought by these officers that, if three or four battleships and
six or eight destroyers could pass through the Straits, they would
be able, in combination with the submarines, to dominate the Sea of
Marmora, thus cutting the main Turkish lines of communication and
supply, which ran from the Asiatic side of the Peninsula. Sir John
de Robeck was not in favour of this project (_Second Dardanelles
Report_, p. 55).
Nevertheless Commodore Keyes came to London at the end of October and
strongly advocated the proposal. But it was rejected.