A BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS
[This is a simple, unaffected story of the doings of a young British
soldier in Gallipoli and his subsequent experiences as a prisoner
of war with the Turks. It is told by Private David Melling, 1/8th
Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers. He was a lad when he enlisted, his
eyesight was destroyed by a bullet, he was captured on the battlefield
by the Turks, and was the first British prisoner of war to be released
from Constantinople. The narrator, when seen, was an inmate of the
Blinded Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Hostel, Regent’s Park, N.W., the
wonderful institution which Mr. C. Arthur Pearson founded and controls
with so much success in the interests of those whose affliction he
understands so well.]
I enlisted in the Lancashire Fusiliers in November 1914, when I was
only seventeen years old, and in June 1915 I went to Gallipoli, where
we landed in the night-time. A big ship had been run aground there--the
_River Clyde_--and pontoon bridges had been made at the side of her,
connecting with the shore. We left our transport and got into little
steam trawlers, which were out at the Dardanelles as mine-sweepers
and so on, and these took us to the pontoon bridges. We hurried over
them, under fire, and having got ashore we went straight into a bivouac
rest-camp. We spent five days in the camp, then we went into the
support line of trenches, which is the second line, and after a week or
two we went on fatigue.
We were in a Turkish communication-trench, digging it wider, and we
came across all sorts of queer things. We dug a dead Turk up, a chap
without a head, and near him we dug up one of our short Lee-Enfield
rifles. He had equipment on, and when we looked into his pouches we
found that he had some of our ammunition, besides his own. We supposed
from the look of things that he had been knocked over by a shell and
buried in the rubbish. We were throwing the earth out and making the
trench deeper when we came across the Turk’s head. One chap got it
on a shovel and fired it over the top of the parapet. You got used
to digging bodies up--it was nothing to strike one with your pick or
shovel.
All this experience was good for us, and got us used to fighting before
we were actually in it, because there was firing going on all the
time, and preparations were being made for charging the Turks with the
bayonet.
Things began to get very warm early in August. At about five o’clock
on the afternoon of the 6th, which was a Friday, there was a heavy
bombardment and a big advance on the left of the Peninsula--that
was Suvla Bay. According to the arrangements we were to charge on
the Saturday morning, two hours after the bombardment began. The
bombardment was to have started at five o’clock; but somehow the Turks
got to know about it, and our attack was postponed till ten o’clock. At
that hour we were ready for our job.
I shall never forget that Saturday morning at Achi Baba. I had my sight
then, and could watch all that was going on. We were on the ledge of
our trench, waiting to spring over and rush at the Turks.
Our officer was standing by us, looking at the watch on his wrist--and
a terrible strain it must have been.
“Two minutes to go!” he said. And we waited.
“One minute to go!” said the officer next time he spoke.
Then, at ten o’clock, “Over!” he shouted. That’s all I remember of
what he said. He may have said more, but I can’t tell. “Over!” was the
order, and over we went.
We all cheered, and then we went helter-skelter for the Turks with the
bayonet.
They were said to be two hundred and fifty yards away, but it was a
lot more than that--at any rate it seemed so. And the ground we had to
rush over was terrible--rough and with a lot of vines about that twined
round your feet and tripped you up. Some of our chaps were knocked flat
in this way, some fell of exhaustion, and lots were killed or wounded.
The best part of our lot were knocked out before we ever got near the
Turks.
But when we reached the trench that we were going for we found that
there were not many of the Turks left. Our gunners had settled them, so
that the trench was full of dead Turks, some of them with their heads
blown completely off.
Our task was simple enough. We had to go for one particular trench that
was straight in front of us.
I can’t give any special particulars about what happened, because it
was all a sort of blur, but I remember a few things clearly, and it’s
these that I am telling of.
The trench was up a hillside, and when I got to it I saw that part
of it had been blown up. I rushed at the opening, and fell into the
trench. I was alone. I don’t know whether I was the first man in
the trench or not; but I do know that there were none of our chaps
there--only myself and dead bodies.
I scrambled to my feet, and the first thing I noticed near me was a
Turkish officer, wounded and unarmed.
There we were, the two of us, the Turk looking at me and me looking
at him. I had my bayonet, and I could have settled him or taken him
prisoner; but British soldiers don’t touch unarmed men, and I was too
busy to take him--and a man who is by himself doesn’t as a rule make
prisoners.
I was looking to see which way to go to get to our other chaps, and the
Turkish officer, noticing this, motioned down the trench to the left to
show me where they had gone.
I began to clear off to them, but in my eagerness and excitement
I did not notice a wire which ran across the top of the parapet.
Before I knew what was happening my rifle got fast in the wire at the
bayonet-standard--that is, where the bayonet fixes on to the muzzle.
Then an extraordinary thing took place. My rifle was tilted over and
the bayonet stuck in the back of a Turk who was huddled up in the
bottom of the trench. The first I saw of him was when my bayonet struck
him. I looked to see if he was dead, but he never moved. I don’t know
whether I killed him or not, but if he wasn’t dead he was a good actor.
I had been about two minutes--it may have been longer--in getting my
rifle clear of the wire, and all that time, for it seemed long, I was
alone. When I pulled myself together and went on again in the trench
I came face to face with a Turk who was coming from the opposite
direction. He seemed to be mad, and made a lunge at me with his
bayonet; but it was broken and no good to him. He saw that and turned
to run away. As he did so I bayoneted him in the back, and he fell. I
could have shot him, but my magazine was empty, for I had been firing a
lot.
I passed the Turk and then I found our chaps. It seemed a good distance
from where I got into the trench to where I found them--I know I had to
go round one or two bends.
When we got together again--and it was a joy to be back with my
chums--we were ordered to line the trench. I don’t know who gave the
order, but it wasn’t an officer.
I was the end man of the line, and we were firing hard when a bullet
came, and all I knew was that I could not see and that I was lying on
the floor of the trench, with one of our chaps bandaging me--I don’t
know who it was.
I was left there while they went on firing.
I don’t know how long I was lying there; but I was terribly thirsty,
and drank two bottles of water--my own and one I took from a dead man
near me. I could not see him, but I felt by groping about his equipment
that he was a British chap.
There were not enough of our men to hold the trench, and they were
forced to retire and leave me.
The Turks came up in the trench, and I heard them shouting something
like “Garrah! Garrah!” though it may have been “Allah! Allah!”
They were fearfully excited, and I thought it was all up with me then.
I never gave myself any hope.
The Turks were running about the trench, looking for our chaps. They
ran over me, no doubt thinking I was dead. I was lying on my side, with
my hands covering my head, holding the bandages to stop the blood from
coming out. I had to do that, because it was only a field-dressing.
I knew then that I had lost my eyes.
I felt as if all the bones in my body were broken with the Turks
running over me and stepping on me.
After some time had passed the Turks settled down a bit, not being
so excited, and then they began to search the trench and examine the
bodies and men in it. Seeing that I was not dead, they propped me up
and began searching my pockets. They were talking away, but, of course,
I could not understand them. They were not rough just then, but they
were afterwards, when I was being led out. They took my pay-book and
photographs and everything I had.
I stood up, and then the Turks took me to a communication-trench about
ten yards away.
As I was passing them in the firing-line they hit out at me with their
hands, trying boxing competitions on me. They dared not have done this
if a Turkish officer had been about.
Two more Fusiliers were being led away along with me. They had both
been bayoneted, they told me, after they were captured.
I was taken to a place where there were Turkish doctors. One of them
gave me a cup of tea. He could speak English, and he asked me how I
was. I told him I was pretty bad. I was given a piece of dry bread, but
I could not eat it, because my teeth were closed.
It was here that I met a New Zealander or an Australian, a gunner,
who had been in the charge. He had no right to be in it, but you could
not keep the Anzacs out of the scraps. He said that he and a pal were
passing through the place when they saw what was going on. Each of them
got hold of a rifle and bayonet and rushed into the charge. The pal was
killed and the other man was taken prisoner.
From the doctors’ place I was taken to a sort of dug-out, which had
some kind of grass in it that felt like heather. The two bayoneted
chaps had been taken there as well, and I was very glad to have their
company.
I was left in the dug-out all night, with the other two Fusiliers
alongside of me. In the morning we were put into oxen carts, four
wounded men in each. They were rough things without springs, and were
slowly dragged over rough tracks--you could not call them roads--so
that it was fair torture to us, bumping all the while.
At last we were stopped at a place and changed into another oxen cart,
and taken farther on. We stopped again, and were given a drink out of a
bucket--they must have thought we were horses. I suppose they must have
been giving a mule a drink, and then it struck them that they might
give us a turn. But bucket or no bucket it was a fine drink.
After that I went into a field hospital, and for the first time since I
had been wounded I had my eyes properly attended to.
A Turkish doctor who could speak a little English said “Eyes!” then a
word that sounded like “yolk.” I suppose he meant that my eyes were
gone; but I knew that before he did.
After I had been attended to I was put into a field hospital and fed
three times a day. First of all we had a ration of bread, which had to
last all day, and a drink of tea; about the middle of the day we were
given some soup, which the chaps called “bill-posters’ paste.” It was
awful stuff, and the chaps who were badly wounded in the body could
not do with it, so they used to tipple their lot into my basin and I
would get through it, as well as through my own. I could not eat bread
or anything else, because my jaws were affected and my face was badly
swollen--it is partly swollen still, but I could just manage to suck
the “bill-posters’ paste” through my teeth.
It was not until now that I really understood what had happened to
me. A bullet had struck me on the left side of the forehead and gone
clean through both eyes, just missing the brain, and out at the right
side--a wonderful escape from instant death, as our own doctors told me
afterwards.
We were given cigarettes in the field hospital--a packet of twenty on
every one of the five days we were there; and those cigarettes were a
real treat.
At the end of the five days we had another dose of oxen carts, and were
jolted in them to the seashore, where we were put into a steamer. They
told us in the field hospital that we were bound for Constantinople,
and I was rather glad I was going there. I did not want to stop any
longer under the everlasting shell fire.
When we went on board we got a loaf of bread and a drink of tea and a
drink of water, and that was all we had for the three days we were in
the ship. She was full, the place where I was put being crowded with
Englishmen, though there was a Turk on a seat above me. I was lying on
the floor under it.
It was a great relief to get to the end of the voyage and go ashore.
I was taken off the boat, and as we went down the gangway chaps were
handing out nice new pieces of bread, hot, and cups of tea. I was
lucky, because I had my cup filled twice.
I was taken into a big hall--it seemed to be a sort of drill-hall--and
was given another drink of tea and piece of bread. Then we were taken
in open carriages, drawn by two horses, to different hospitals. I well
remember that my carriage had rubber tyres--and that was very nice
indeed after travelling in the oxen carts.
I was carried on a stretcher into a hospital near the quayside, and
here I was turned into a sort of Turk, for I was served with a pair of
Turkish trousers big enough to fit six of us. They tied round the waist
and ankles. I had a shirt also given to me, a sort of big gown which
was tied round the waist. We looked like Julius Cæsar in them.
The Turks dressed my eyes and put me into a bed, and I was glad to get
in, because I had been thrown about for ten days since I was wounded.
I was in this hospital for about three weeks, treated by Turkish ladies
who were acting as nurses. A lady who was there was said to be an
Egyptian princess, the late Khedive of Egypt’s sister, and she could
speak English. She asked me my age, parents’ names, occupation and
address at home, and said that next day she would write to my mother,
to tell her how I was getting on; but when next day came I told her
that a chap in my regiment had written home for me. She then told me a
bit of joyful news, and that was that I was going to be sent home.
There was a German Bible-reader in the hospital. We called him Charlie,
and I will say for him that he was like a brother to us. There are good
and bad in every race, and this was one of the good Germans. He brought
two Bibles in for chaps to read who could see.
At the end of the three weeks an order came for all prisoners to go
into barracks, and I was taken off in a carriage. This time I suppose
I looked a real Turk, for I had a fez, though I had my baggy trousers
hidden by my khaki trousers, which I had put over them, the Turkish
doctor having told me to do this to keep me warm. I scored there,
because I don’t think that the Turks meant me to walk off with the
baggy breeches. But I kept them on all right, and I have them at home
now, as a memento.
In these barracks we slept on a long platform, on a sort of thick
matting, which was very verminous. At first we were fed pretty
well, and then not so well, because the Turkish food is not fit for
Englishmen, and they have only two meals a day. They gave us rice and
meat, but only a very little piece of meat. The rice was cooked in
olive oil, and it seemed good when we were hungry, though we did not
care for it. We used to get a ration of bread every afternoon about
four o’clock. When that time came our chaps, who were in good spirits,
singing and whistling, used to kick up a row and shout, “Hich, Hich!”
which was supposed to be Turkish, and meant hurry up with the bread.
It was the Sultan’s birthday while we were in barracks, but they did
not give us anything extra on that account. The Turkish Christmas was
celebrated in August, too, but we never heard anything about it.
The American Ambassador came and visited us and gave us forty piastres
each, equal to six and eightpence. The Ambassador used to come round
to see that we were well treated, and we were always glad to see him.
Through his efforts I got released, and was then sent into the American
Hospital in Constantinople. I was there about a week, after which I
was put in charge of two American sailors and sent to Dedeagatch, in
Bulgaria, the place that has been bombarded lately. We stayed in a
place called the Hôtel London, supposed to be the best hotel in the
town; but the sailors said it was nothing but an old shack. We were
paying for our food and so on, as the Ambassador had supplied us with
money for our fares and keep, and the two sailors looked after me all
the time.
After two or three days’ rest a train journey of a day took us to
another town called Drama, which is in Greece; from there we went to
Salonica, where 1 was handed over first to the American Consul and then
to the British Consul, who passed me on to the military authorities.
The British commander-in-chief asked me some questions about officers
who were prisoners of war, and so on, and I told him what I could.
[Illustration:
_To face p. 158._
TURKISH PRISONERS MARCHING DOWN A GULLY IN GALLIPOLI.]
For a fortnight after that I was in a hospital ship in the bay, the
_Grantully Castle_, happy and well looked after; then we went to Lemnos
and on to Alexandria, where I had another spell in hospital--four days.
Then it was really a case of homeward bound, for I was put on board
the _Ghurka_ on November 7, and we sailed for Southampton. On board
the _Ghurka_ we had concerts and a good time until the 19th, when we
reached Southampton. I went to St. Mark’s Military Hospital, Chelsea,
then came to this wonderful place, St. Dunstan’s Hostel, which Mr. C.
Arthur Pearson founded, and where I am very happy and learning poultry
farming.