A MAY BATTLE
During a big battle which took place early in May, I sent Gye forward
with a large convoy of ammunition, and on riding out later on to see how
things were going I passed over some of the ground occupied by the
French, who were to the right of the British, and extended from thence
across the Peninsula to the Dardanelles. A couple of miles to the rear
of the fighting line extended the batteries of the famous .75s,
cunningly concealed among trees, branches specially planted in the
ground, reeds, etc. I watched the gunners serve their guns, and my
admiration was aroused at witnessing the ease and celerity with which
they were loaded, their mechanical arrangement for setting the fuse,
and, above all, the beautifully smooth recoil of the barrel. This was so
nicely adjusted that I might have placed my finger on the ground behind
the wheel of the gun and have received no damage.
The French Army can give us points on many things, but above all stands
their .75 gun. They are wonderfully accurate, marvellously quick, and
seem able to pour out from their muzzles a continuous stream of
projectiles. The French certainly did not starve their gunners in
ammunition, and only for those .75s our position in Gallipoli would
often have been somewhat precarious.
After I had watched the guns in action for a while I passed on, and
going down the sandy road which led from Sedd-el-Bahr village to Krithia
I came upon the first evidences of the fight that was now raging. A
handsome young French artilleryman lay dead by the side of the road;
some friend had closed his eyes, and he looked as if he merely slept,
but it was the long sleep of death. A little further on lay some
Zouaves, and yet a little further some Senegalese, all lying just as
they fell, with their packs on their backs and their rifles close by,
facing the foe--brave French soldiers all.
Turning a corner I found myself riding into General d'Amade and his
staff, busily directing the battle. Almost at the General's horse's feet
lay a Turk whose face was half blown away. The poor fellow had wrapped
the end of his pugaree round his ghastly wound. Within a yard or two
lay another Turk, his shoulder smashed to pulp by a shell. Both men bore
up with the greatest fortitude and never uttered a groan. A first-aid
dressing station was close by, where scores of wounded, French and
Turks, were being doctored and bandaged. These sights of the uglier and
sadder side of war are not pleasing, and any one who has seen the
horrors of it can never wish to view such scenes again. I would put all
Foreign Ministers, Diplomats and Newspaper Proprietors in the forefront
of every battle for which they were in any way responsible. However,
duty has to be done, even in the midst of horrors, so saluting the
General, I pushed further along to the front, where I could see Gye with
the mules in the distance.
By the time I had cantered up to him all the ammunition had been
unloaded, and at the spot where I halted I found myself looking over a
bank into the midst of a Battalion of cheery little Gurkhas (the 6th)
and almost within handshake of their Commander, Colonel C. Bruce, who
was an old acquaintance of mine. I had no idea he was in Gallipoli, and
it was curious to come upon him, after some years, in the thick of a
battle.
I stayed for a time chatting with him while the bullets and shells
whizzed round--in fact, until an order came for his Battalion to go
forward into the fight.
I myself went and took up a position on a hill close by, where I could
see, as if from the gallery of a theatre, the whole fight staged before
me; where I could note the move of practically every man and gun.
As I looked down from my post of observation, a saucer-like green valley
full of olive trees, vine-yards and young corn spread out before me for
some five miles, right away up to Achi Baba, the dominating hill, some
six hundred or seven hundred feet high. The French, as I have already
said, were away on the right, and I watched their infantry mass in
hollows and ravines, then advance in wavy lines under the pounding
shelter of their guns. The latter were served magnificently, and the
infantry as they advanced found the ground to their immediate front
swept yard by yard by the guns fired by their comrades a couple of miles
to their rear.
It was a stirring sight to watch the officers dash out and give the men
a lead when there was any hesitation or waver of the line. In places I
could see the Turks run like hares, but on the extreme left the French
who were in touch with our right could be seen retiring precipitately
over the hill, badly slated by the Turks.
I was fascinated by the sight and wondered how that broken line could be
again reformed. It was done, however, in the shelter of a bluff, and
once more they charged over the hill and were then lost to my view.
The 29th Division extended from the French left, near the right centre
of the saucer, across to the Ægean Sea. The front was towards Achi Baba,
and our men made headway towards it in the face of fierce opposition.
Our guns were barking away at the Turks in their trenches, and the great
guns of the Fleet were hurling their high explosives, which descended on
the doomed Turks with terrific effect. One could see great spurts of
flame, smoke, earth, timbers, rocks, Turks, in fact, everything in the
neighbourhood, going up as though shot out of the crater of a volcano.
To me it seemed as though nothing could possibly live under such a reign
of death, which continued with ever-increasing intensity for an hour.
Nothing could be seen of Achi Baba, or any other part of the Turkish
position, owing to the smoke and dust which the bombardment had raised,
and unfortunately the wind was blowing towards us, which brought
everything into the eyes of our men as they leaped out of the trenches
to the attack.
The moment the guns ceased one could discern, through the haze, the
gleam of bayonets as the Allies swept forward along the whole front like
a bristling wall of steel, right into the leading Turkish trenches.
Wherever the bombardment had done its work and smashed down the wire
entanglements, our men found it easy to advance. Such Turks as remained
in the trenches were dazed and demoralised by the shell fire, and were
only too willing to surrender. But in some parts, especially on the left
of the line, the guns had failed to cut down the barbed wire, and here
our men were crumpled up by the deadly fire of rifle and machine-gun
which was concentrated on them at this point.
It was a soul-stirring sight to watch, on this great stage, the
alternate advance and retreat of our men, and the scuttle of the Turks
along their communication trenches; the charge of the Zouaves, the
hurried retirement of the Senegalese when they were met with a terrific
fire from the Turks; the reforming of the line behind the friendly
crest; the renewed pounding of the Turkish line by French and British
guns; the charge once more of the Allied infantry into and through the
Turkish curtain of fire until they were swallowed up in the smoke.
The heart palpitated with emotion, and one's imagination was gripped by
the sight of these gallant fellows flinging themselves recklessly at the
Turks.
At length human nature could do no more, and both British and French had
to call a halt.
The result of the battle was that we gained some few hundred yards
practically along the whole front except on the extreme left, but it was
at a considerable cost in killed and wounded.