Once on top of the ridge our fellows paused for a minute or two to
get their breath, then, as full of fight as ever, they doubled into
the scrub and pursued the retreating Turks with unabated ardour. It
was now an open battle, and except for the fact that the Anzacs were
exposed to a heavy shrapnel fire, Jack was as good as his master. In
threes and fours at a time the shells burst over and swept through the
lines of advancing men, taking their toll all the time. The Turks took
full advantage of the plentiful cover; they knew the country and we
didn't. Now and then one caught a glimpse of a fleeing figure or two;
that was all. We had no field artillery to cover our advance, and the
consequence was we suffered heavily, our guns not coming into action
till the evening, and then only one or two had been landed. Add to
this the natural difficulties of a broken and rugged country which we
had never seen before, and the reader will have some conception of the
task that faced the Dominion troops. It was next to impossible to keep
in touch with each other, let alone preserve something approaching
an unbroken line. Thus the fight resolved itself largely into one of
units. Here and there isolated bodies of infantry pushed far ahead,
then lying down they held on grimly until the main force came up and
eased the pressure.
One or two lots got caught in the beds of deep gullies, were opened on
by concealed enfilade fire from machine-guns and rifles, and died to a
man. But they died fighting. One party at least fought its way almost
to the Narrows, and then disappeared: not a single man returned. The
rest pushed on and on, trusting to the reserves coming up and enabling
them to hold the captured ground--those reserves that came in driblets
only. The fact was that the men could not be thrown ashore quickly
enough to reinforce in the strength required. Where battalions landed
there should have been brigades; where brigades, divisions. It was
just sheer bad luck. No blame attached to the fleet--every man worked
like a Trojan, worked on without paying the slightest attention to the
hail of projectiles falling around. They were white right through,
those boys from the warships, from the plucky little middies and the
jolly "Jacks" right up to the senior officers. I pity the chap who
ever says a word against them if any of the Anzacs happen to be within
coo-ee of him! Come to think it over, I don't see that blame could be
fixed on any one. The country was just made for defensive purposes;
it would have required division after division to have been thrown in
on each other's heels in order to reduce it, or to seize the ground
to the Narrows and hang on. We simply hadn't the men. And the natural
difficulties in the way of getting up such reinforcements as we had,
not to speak of supplies, ammunition, etc., were nigh insurmountable.
There were no tracks, much less roads; the guns that _were_ landed that
first evening had to be pulled by hand through the standing scrub; the
landing parties on the beach were open to continuous shell fire, not to
mention snipers--altogether I don't think there was ever such a daring
or hazardous enterprise attempted in the world's history.