And now strong Turkish reinforcements appeared on the scene. Battalion
after battalion of fresh troops joined the enemy firing line. It
stiffened up: we failed to break it. Our men were falling fast; half
our strength seemed to be down, killed or wounded, while the remainder
were beginning to feel the effects of their tremendous gruelling in the
fierce heat of a sub-tropic sun. Still on came the masses of Turkish
reserves. The naval guns, especially those of the _Lizzie_, cut them
up, but didn't stagger them. They took the offensive. For a time it was
charge and counter-charge, give and take. But it couldn't last; the
odds were too great. We retired fighting--and in that retirement our
losses were something cruel. Machine-guns and shrapnel did the damage
mostly, but the Mausers took their share. Only in one thing had we the
advantage--the bayonet. When we got to hand grips with them the Turks
couldn't stand up to our chaps, who went for them with the cold steel
like devils red-hot from hell.
No man who took part in that retirement will ever forget it. Overhead
burst the shells, underfoot the dust rose and the twigs snapped as the
unending rain of rifle, machine-gun, and shrapnel bullets _zipped!_ and
spattered around. Men fell fast, killed and wounded; every temporary
stand we made was marked by little groups of grotesquely postured
khaki-clad forms still with the stillness of death. Here and there one
saw a sorely wounded man feebly raise his head and gaze pathetically
after the retiring line of hard-pressed men; others (and these were
many) limped and hobbled painfully along in the wake of the retreating
infantry, till in many cases another bullet laid them low. Most of our
wounded fell into the hands of the enemy. It was hard to leave them,
but what could we do?
Time after time we tried to dig ourselves in. In vain! The line had to
be shortened, else we should be outflanked by the enormously superior
forces opposed to us. There was nothing for it but to retire right
back to the ridge and hold the crest--or try to! Back then we went,
retiring by companies and half-companies. There was no running, no
panic at any time. When the Turks pressed us too closely we gave them a
shake-up with the bayonet. In many cases men had to rely on the steel
alone, their ammunition giving out. Time after time the enemy drew back
while his big guns and maxims wrought their will on us. He didn't half
like the steel.
We reached the ridge, and, exhausted as we were, started to dig
ourselves in. Our throats were parched, for we dare not broach our
water-bottles lest we should be tempted to finish them straight away.
Once a man begins to drink he will keep on. In many cases bottles had
been shot through and the contents drained away. Others had left them
with wounded comrades. For food we munched a biscuit--when we had time!
There weren't many biscuits eaten until after nightfall.
We dug a line of holes, scratching fiercely with our trenching tools,
all the while subjected to a withering shrapnel fire. The naval gunners
seemed quite unable to locate and silence the Turkish artillery, so
cleverly was it concealed. Lying down as flat as possible we scraped
away, working frantically for the much-needed cover that should enable
us to hold the position, if it were possible to hold it. At times we
dropped the trenching tools--to lift our rifles and beat back the
oncoming enemy. Yet it was evident that the Turks were beginning to
feel the strain too. Perhaps they thought they had us anyhow, for their
assaults began to lose a lot of their sting, and we were enabled to get
a half chance to dig. As the day waned and nightfall approached they
came again, and we were hard put to it for a time to hang on. Charge
and counter-charge followed rapidly on each other's heels, and all the
time a deafening fire was kept up along the whole position. Then the
brief twilight changed into night; the fire slackened off; the moon
rose, and for the first time since early morning we were enabled to
obtain a few minutes' rest before going on digging again.
We stuck to it hard all through the night, grafting away for all we
were worth. It was our only chance. Yet at times we were absolutely
forced by sheer fatigue to drop our tools and stretch out for a
spell. Sixteen hours of hard, solid fighting through a broken and
hilly country, followed by a whole night's digging; then stand-to
before daybreak, and all the succeeding hours of the second day hold
the trenches against intermittent attacks. At night go on working at
strengthening the trenches; stand-to again before daylight the third
day--and from before dawn till well on in the evening of that day do
your bit at beating off the enemy's attack in force with a fresh army
that outnumbers you by five to one--_the_ attack by which he means to
seize your position at _all costs_! Just do the foregoing, dear reader,
and you will realise what those Australasian troops endured. And do it
(as they did) on a pint and a half of water and a few biscuits.