A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES
[”Next I come to the Royal Artillery. By their constant vigilance, by
their quick grasp of the key to every emergency, by their thundering
good shooting, by hundreds of deeds of daring, they have earned the
unstinted admiration of all their comrade services.” That is the
tribute which General Sir Ian Hamilton paid to the gunners in his
despatch describing the operations in the Gallipoli Peninsula--a
document which is the story of a noble failure. Little has been told of
the doings of the artillery, but we can realise what they did from this
narrative of Gunner John Evans, 92nd Battery, Royal Field Artillery,
who was included in the vast number of soldiers who were invalided home
through sickness.]
I was in India with my battery when the war broke out. I had been in
the country for seven years, and much as I liked it--I thoroughly
enjoyed my soldiering there--I wanted to be off to the front. But I
was kept in India for six months, training men to fight the Germans,
and so doing my bit in that way. Then I came to England, where my
battery had a splendid time because the people were so kind; and after
that very pleasant change I was off to the Dardanelles, and went right
into a fair hell of fighting. You can imagine a lot as a soldier, but
no flight of fancy would ever have made you picture in your mind the
things that actually happened. It is all over now, and some of us in
hospital have time to think of the brave fellows who are resting in the
Peninsula. They could not do what they were set to do, because that
was beyond the power of ordinary man; but they did more, I think, than
any other troops in the world could have done. To any man who knows
what the country and climate are like, and who saw the difficulties
and endured the awful discomforts, it seems that almost miracles were
performed; and of all the wonderful things none was more wonderful than
the withdrawal from Gallipoli.
[Illustration:
_To face p. 114._
“W” BEACH, SHOWING CAPE HELLAS.]
We went straight into the business. There was no beating about the
bush over the job. We got there, to the famous Lancashire Landing at W
Beach, and my battery was the first to land on Turkish soil. Looking
back on the campaign makes you wonder that we ever got either in or out
of Gallipoli.
When our transport got near enough for us to begin our landing
operations we were treated to a fine view of the desperate fighting
that was going on, to say nothing of being under fire ourselves from
the Turkish guns, a proper preparation for the regular hell of fire
that we were under when we actually landed ourselves.
The Turks had opened fire on our transport from the Asiatic side as
well as the European side, and what was happening to our own ship
was happening to a whole fleet of transports and all sorts of other
ships. There were warships bombarding the enemy’s position, and the din
altogether was enough to stagger even a long-service gunner who thought
he knew what noise meant.
This happened about half past ten in the morning. At that time the
Lancashire Fusiliers were making their magnificent attempt to land, and
I shall never forget their pluck and the way they stuck to their deadly
job. They were being conveyed ashore in lighters, and the Turks--we
could distinctly see them over the edge of the cliff, not a hundred
yards from the foreshore--were pouring in a terrible fire at close
range. Shells, too, were dropping from the batteries at Achi Baba,
miles in the rear, with wonderful precision.
The Fusiliers’ lighters could not get close to the beach owing to the
barbed wire entanglements which had been fixed in the water, so the men
were ordered to get out and wade ashore. This they began to do--and it
was one of the most awful jobs that a landing party ever undertook.
I could see them quite well from our transport. Without a moment’s
hesitation the Lancashires clambered over the sides of the lighters and
into the water they went, struggling to get ashore. It is hard enough
to force your way through water at any time; put to that difficulty a
heavy kit and rifle and ammunition, throw diabolical barbed wire in,
and you will understand to some extent what it all meant.
As these brave fellows threw themselves overboard dozens of them were
shot; a lot more were caught by the barbed wire, and as they were held
helplessly, with flesh and clothing torn in their frantic efforts to
get free, they were killed or wounded by the Turkish fire.
It seemed impossible for any of the Fusiliers to survive and get
ashore, yet many forced their way through everything and landed on
the beach, where they at once formed up roughly, and then without the
slightest hesitation they charged up the face of the cliff, which
looked to me almost as hard to scale as the side of a house.
As they scrambled up the cliff they were met by a more murderous
fire than ever from rifles and machine-guns, and numbers were killed
or wounded. It seemed to me that for every man who reached the top at
least four were killed or maimed. I could see the bodies rolling down
the cliff-side on to the beach.
It was only a little band of Lancashire Fusiliers that managed to
scramble and rush to the top of that terrific cliff--a few hundreds or
so. They must have been exhausted; but their blood was fairly up, and
with fixed bayonets they charged with such fury and success that the
Turks were fairly taken aback, and I could see them giving way before
our boys’ cold steel.
Some of the Turks were throwing up their arms, and I could hear their
shrill appeals for mercy; but the Fusiliers hadn’t too much time to
listen after the awful experience they had just gone through.
After they had been driven off the Turks made a counter-attack, and
the Fusiliers, being a mere handful, were forced back to the very edge
of the cliff and seemed in peril of going down it; but even then they
re-formed and again rushed on the Turks with the bayonet and scattered
them. Back again the Lancashires were driven, only to recover in the
most amazing way and charge with the bayonet for the third time. And
this seemed to settle the Turks, who cleared off.
While this thrilling fighting was going on, a sight that can never
be forgotten by those who saw it, our brigade was getting ready to
disembark. The infantry had had a hard enough business to get ashore;
but ours was naturally a lot worse, for we had to tackle our guns and
horses, as well as look after ourselves.
There were lighters alongside the transport, and into each of these
we got two guns and eight horses, not easy work at any time, but hard
now, with such a rush on and shells dropping all around us. Some of the
explosions caused havoc amongst the horses, and several shells dropped
near our lighter; but I am thankful to say that they were not near
enough to do us much damage.
We were towed as near to the shore as we could get, and then we began
the uncommonly hard and long job of getting the guns and horses ashore.
The lighters were bobbing up and down and “ranging,” owing to the run
of the sea, and this unsteadiness made it very difficult to get the
guns and horses overboard; but every officer and man worked with a
will, and we did it. We got them out of the lighter and on to a strange
kind of roadway that had been made in the water by putting sandbags
tightly down. These sandbags “gave” a fair lot, of course, but we could
not have done anything without them, for the wheels would have sunk too
deeply in the wet soft sand.
When a gun was ready, from ten to sixteen horses were harnessed to it,
and it took these and forty men on the drag-ropes to get one gun over
the sandbag road on to the beach. We did our best, we strained every
nerve, we were experts at the work, yet it was evening before the
battery was ready for action. By that time we had got the guns on the
level at the top of the cliff, about forty yards from the edge, after
tremendous efforts by horses and men. I never saw such man-handling,
even in India.
We had luck in the weather, for a heavy storm came on and the rain fell
in blinding sheets. This, with the darkness, when it came, enabled us
to take up our position without the Turks knowing of the fact.
Of course, while all this work of ours was going on the infantry were
screening us in front. A constant and confused sort of fighting was
taking place, and our men were mixed up with the enemy in furious
hand-to-hand scraps. It was a regular bedlam, and so that nothing
should be left in the way of trouble we were soaked to the skin. But we
were so absorbed in the fighting, and so keen to get to work ourselves,
that we did not give a thought to the drenching. We longed to get into
action, but were kept back by the mixing up of our own men with the
Turks, which made it impossible for us to open fire, because we should
have killed as many of our own men as Turks.
We stood by till we knew that our infantry had driven the Turks well
back, and then it was that the enemy got one of the biggest shocks
of the day, for we simply let go at him with shrapnel at point-blank
range. So well had we been handled by our officers that the first hint
the Turks had of our presence was when we opened fire, and then the
muzzles of our guns were almost in amongst them.
During the first few minutes of that tremendous excitement we did not
bother much about the gun drill-book--I, for instance, was loading,
setting fuses, ranging and doing any other work that came to hand.
Despite this there was nothing whatever to grumble about in the way the
guns were being served.
In the darkness we could not see what mischief we were doing, but we
knew perfectly well that it must be enormous, because of the rapidity
of our fire and the goodness of our shells; and when the daylight came
we had proof, for ahead of us were piles of Turkish corpses, men who
had been killed by our shrapnel.
We went on firing till the Turks had been driven back in complete
disorder. We kept the game up throughout the day, but the darkness
prevented us from following the enemy’s movements.
We, of course, had no observation-posts at that time, as there were
no trenches available for the observation officers to get to know the
results of our fire.
After this promising start things were fairly quiet till the small
hours of the next morning, when the enemy counter-attacked with great
fury. The Turks are rare good fighters, they knew the country, and they
had German officers driving them on in the rear, brutes who shot them
down without mercy time after time, as I saw with my own eyes.
There were some native troops on our right front, and these were so
hard pressed that they were forced to give way.
A staff officer who was at hand realised instantly the serious state
of the situation, as the line was broken, and he called on some of the
gunners in our brigade to fill the gap.
About fifty of our men fell out at once. There were hundreds of rifles
with fixed bayonets lying on the ground around us, and grabbing what
they wanted of these, our men rushed up and joined in the fray,
filling the gap and making good the broken line before the Turks could
understand what was happening.
It was a smart little affair, and the enemy was driven back and had to
scuttle for shelter to his trenches, where he was left for the time
being, for our troops were utterly exhausted and a rest was necessary.
We were thankful for a bit of a break. It was not for long, but we took
things fairly easily till just before midday, when another advance was
ordered against Seddul Bahr, a village of great tactical importance
some hundreds of yards away, on our right front.
Our brigade was ordered to get ready for action.
By this time we were better off than we had been, for we had
established the necessary observation-posts, and so we were ready for
anything that might happen.
At noon the order came to open fire, and we fairly rained shells into
the village--hundreds of rounds of shrapnel--to help the infantry in
their advance.
The Turks were just as ready as we were, and they started a bombardment
both from Achi Baba and the Turkish forts on the Asiatic side.
Some of these shells were proper “duds,” and they made us laugh. It
was not necessary to be told that they were made in Germany, for they
dropped harmlessly into the ground, without exploding; but of course
there were lots that did burst and do mischief. Many of these dropped
on to the beach down below, killing mules and causing losses amongst
transport drivers and the men of the Army Service Corps. Owing to the
luck of war we had not many casualties in our own battery, and the
losses were nothing like what you would have expected from such a lot
of firing from the Turkish guns.
But we had some sad losses, all the same.
Our major was amongst the few who were killed that afternoon. He was
in an observation-trench ahead, and was struck by a piece of shell
which burst just near him. The news soon spread that he had been
mortally wounded. He was most popular with the men, and as soon as they
heard what had happened both officers and men rushed out to his post,
to do what they could for him. But you can’t do much for a dying man.
The major did not last long. His last words were, “Good luck, boys.
Tell my wife I died happy.”
There wasn’t a dry eye amongst the men who laid him to his last rest.
They say that misfortunes never come alone, and it was all too true of
us that day, for in the evening the colonel and the adjutant were done
to death through German treachery.
We heard, but not till later, that a German came along a piece of enemy
trench, close to the observation-post where the two officers were.
The German shouted, in quite good English, “All officers this way!”
The colonel and the adjutant, who did not suspect anything, got out on
to the parapet of the trench, and instantly a hand grenade was thrown
from an enemy trench quite close at hand. It exploded and killed both
of them.
That’s the sort of dirty trick which the Germans know so well how
to play. They have a born gift for it--and that reminds me that the
Germans who were with the Turkish forces were just as dirty and brutal
in their methods as they are, by all accounts, on the Western front.
Looking through a pair of field-glasses, I have seen German officers
during an attack by the Turks follow them with revolvers in hand--your
German officer doesn’t lead, he drives, having a precious regard for
his carcase, and no earthly sense of honour--and I have seen them shoot
Turkish soldiers who have fallen because they have been shot in the
leg or have stooped to pick up a rifle which had been dropped. The
German would be about a hundred yards in the rear, and would run up
and deliberately shoot the prostrate man. I am talking now not from
hearsay, but of what I have seen with my own eyes, and it does not help
you to love the Germans.
I once saw a German prisoner, a fair specimen of the Prussian bully--he
was a lieutenant--knock down a British sentry who had told him not to
smoke in a part of the line where lights were prohibited. It was lucky
for the bully that a British captain came along at the moment, or the
fellow would have got the full force of the sentry’s bayonet.
I heard Turkish prisoners say that the German officers treated the
Turks with contempt, and it was a marvel that the Turks had not risen
and slaughtered their so-called benefactors wholesale.
While on this point, I would like to say that as a fighter the Turk is
a gentleman. We would go for them hammer and tongs in the ordinary way
of scrapping; but ten minutes after it was over we would gladly shake
hands with them--but we wouldn’t do it with the Germans.
The dirty trickery that killed our colonel and our adjutant made our
brigade swear that they would never spare the Germans when they met
them in the way of fighting.
It was on the third day from the landing that we began the great
advance which was meant to sweep the Turks away from the Peninsula,
but which failed through lack of men and ammunition.
On that day we moved our guns forward about three hundred yards, and
took up a fresh position from which we could bombard the enemy with
great advantage.
We were in that place for a fortnight, and during that time the
infantry had many a desperate shot at Achi Baba, which was the Turkish
stronghold. There were many attacks and counter-attacks, without much
apparent advantage to either side; but matters favoured the Turks,
who had been strongly reinforced and had prepared very fine defensive
positions.
While we were here our brigade lost a fair number of men; but of course
the infantry suffered far more.
I am proud to say that our battery was the nearest to the Turks, and
was constantly in action.
One night we had a report that the enemy was going to attack us in
great force, and on the strength of the report we had to retire to a
safer position. We withdrew, not without a lot of grousing among the
boys, and when we reached our new point we were heavily bombarded; but
no infantry attack followed, as we had been led to expect.
There was a good deal more grousing next morning when we moved forward
again, because the Turks began to shell us heavily as we went along the
road. This showed how well informed they were as to our movements even
since the previous evening; but luckily our losses amounted to only two
or three horses.
The next day the great retirement of the British forces began, and the
whole of our infantry fell back about two miles to a point which we had
nicknamed Clapham Junction, because the two main roads in the Peninsula
join there. The artillery did not retire, being supported on the right
and in the rear by French troops and the heavy guns.
Everybody knows now that if there had been enough men and ammunition
our infantry, instead of retiring, would have taken Achi Baba and
driven the Turks out of the Peninsula. Let us hope that if we did not
manage to do that, our tremendous losses were not in vain, and helped
to spoil any plans for marching on Egypt and India.
Early in June we started business again with the Turks, and that was
when the great battle of Krithia took place. This fight lasted two
days, but we did not make much headway, as the enemy had got big
reinforcements and had prepared a defensive position of enormous
strength.
I had several narrow escapes from death during that great fight.
During a lull I was standing behind a bank with two or three other men,
watching the enemy’s artillery shelling a water-cart some distance
away. The cart was going along a road, and we were wondering whether
it would get clear or be blown up. While I was doing that, a shell
burst right over us, making a horrible noise and peppering the air
with pieces of shrapnel. I ducked my head instinctively, and so kept
it on my shoulders. It was lucky for me that I did this, or I should
have been killed, because the shell burst very low, so low that I got
several shrapnel bullets through the back of my helmet, and the man
nearest to me was seriously wounded by flying bits of metal. The third
man received a good shaking up, but was otherwise unhurt.
A day or two later I had an even narrower shave with death--one of
those extraordinary bits of luck that are so common in a war like this,
that you take them almost as a matter of course.
I wanted to be as comfortable as possible, and so I had started to
make a dug-out for myself. I was under fire, but I did not pay much
attention to that. I soon found that the ground I was working on was in
a bad and insanitary state, so I gave up the job, and took myself off
and began to try my luck at a place about fifty yards away.
I had just got to work on the new pitch when a huge high explosive
shell dropped plump on the ground where I had been digging. It burst
with tremendous force, and I was pelted with flying clods of earth
and got a proper good shaking; but beyond that I was not hurt. But my
first pitch was simply shattered, and if I had not cleared out I should
have been blown to fragments, as I have seen many a fine chap blown in
Gallipoli.
One of the very worst of my experiences was one day when I went to
visit a chum who was on duty at the beach. I called at his dug-out,
just as you might call for a chap at his home, and out he came,
smiling, walking up to me to shake hands.
Just at that moment a shell of the enemy dropped short.
I was struck dumb with the shock. When I regained myself I looked for
my chum, and a terrible sight met my gaze, for there he lay in little
pieces.
I felt right cut up, as I had soldiered with him for years in India,
and I was going to visit his home if we had the luck to get through
together. So you see we were so near but yet so far in a few seconds,
and I am one of the lucky ones to be here to tell the tale. Out of
the whole of the officers and men who came from India in my splendid
battery, you could almost count those who are left on the fingers of
your hands. Fighting and disease have taken nearly all of them.
More than once I was nearly “outed” by snipers; but I managed to keep
a whole skin. It must be said in all fairness that the Turkish snipers
were both plucky and resourceful--snipers were brought in who were
found actually in our own lines; and once I was astonished to see a
young and pretty Turkish girl brought in as a prisoner. She was a
sniper, and had been hanging about our lines for a fortnight. There was
no doubt that she was responsible for the death of several good men. We
were greatly interested in this young lady, who was sent off to Tenedos.
These Turkish marksmen took every risk like good sportsmen, and we made
their acquaintance right at the start, for when we were carrying out
our desperate landing snipers were actually potting us from the beach,
where they were covered with sand, so that it was almost impossible
to see them. After that we got used to see snipers brought in who had
painted themselves green, to match the trees and foliage, and others
had decked themselves out with branches. It was funny to see some of
the beggars, and as they had played a straight game we could not bear
them any ill will. It was the Germans who did the dirty tricks.
Now for a few words on how I left the Dardanelles.
It was about July, when dysentery was at its worst, and quite half my
battery were sick with it, all at the same time. It came to my turn to
get it, and I was very bad for about three weeks. At last I could stand
it no longer, for I could not work without suffering awful pain--it was
like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together in one’s inside, with
much vomiting; so I was forced to report sick to our doctor, who was a
gentleman and a brave man. He was very kind to me, and did all in his
power for my benefit. But it was no good. I had to go to hospital. I
thought this would be at a place a few miles away, and I was glad at
the prospect of being out of the firing, which was awful to a degree,
and to get some quietness; but I found myself at a beach hospital,
which was composed of tents and was always under fire. Several shells
dropped in on us, causing much damage and loss in life and material. So
I was pleased enough when I knew that I was to go on board a hospital
ship; gladder still when I knew that I was being carried to a place
which was a little safer than Gallipoli, namely, dear old England.
There was no room for us at two ports on the way home; but I didn’t
mind that. England was quite good enough for me.
We had a fine though sad voyage. It did one good to see the smiles on
the faces of the wounded. Though they were in great pain, they were
cheered with the thought that they were leaving a hell on earth for a
turn in heaven.
That was the bright side of the case; the dark side was that our
engines were continually stopped while one of our dear comrades was
committed to the deep, where he could get the rest which he had so
hardly won--but it was a godsend after what they had suffered.
I can assure the friends of those who are gone, that they were
comforted in their last moments by the chaplain and nurses, and were
given proper Christian burial as soldiers who had fought the good fight
and had fallen in glory.
The brave nurses were like mothers with young children, and deserve the
highest praise for what they did for us.
And now, through God’s help, I am getting on all right, and awaiting
orders for the front again, to do a bit more for King and country and
to shame the slackers.