GALLIPOLI (_contd._).
The Battalion remained in "Rest Camp" for twenty-one days.
The words "Rest Camp" conjure up a mental picture of shady trees and
green, close-cropped meadows sloping to a winding river, of ordered rows
of tents or huts, of a place where the horrors of the trenches can be
forgotten and war-jangled nerves re-attuned in a placid atmosphere of
peace and innocent recreation--not to mention baths and long cool
drinks. Nothing could be more unlike this ideal than the reality of a
Rest Camp on the Peninsula. We used often to exercise our imaginations
in seeking the reason for christening these delectable abiding places
Rest Camps. Was it in a fine spirit of official irony, or on the _lucus
a non lucendo_ principle, or was it in respectful but rather slavish
imitation of the organisation of the Expeditionary Force in France? They
had Bomb Schools, Training Camps, Rest Camps and all sorts of luxuries.
We on Gallipoli must therefore have the same. So we instituted Bomb
Schools on the Peninsula and a Training Camp at Mudros to which our weak
battalions had regularly to send parties of officers and men who could
ill be spared from duty in the trenches. We must therefore also have
Rest Camps in name if not in actuality. They were not camps, and were
not conspicuously restful, but we knew them officially as Rest Camps. At
the time of which we are writing they were sometimes referred to as
Rest Trenches. This was, if anything, less appropriate. In no military
sense could they be regarded as trenches.
Having explained what a Rest Camp was not, let us now attempt to convey
some idea of what it was by describing the fairly typical example in
which we found ourselves planted. Imagine then, a bare expanse of clayey
soil from which all signs of vegetation--if there ever was any--have
been obliterated. The surface is trodden fairly hard and is powdered
with a thin layer of heavy dust, which the slightest shower of rain
converts into mud tenacious as tar. The "Camp" is bounded on the North
(_i.e._ the extremity nearest the enemy) by the remains of a ragged
hedge, in the thickest clumps of which an intrepid explorer may discover
a few dusty, juiceless, brambles. The previous tenants have been
superficial in their methods of tidying up their lines, for the hedge
also shelters a miscellaneous assortment of discarded clothing, empty
meat and jam-tins and all the odd items of rubbish which, in a well
disciplined unit, disappear in the incinerator. South of the hedge the
ground falls with a very gradual slope for perhaps 200 yards, to the dry
bed of a ditch or streamlet just beyond which a row of trees serves to
conceal partially the dug-outs in which our Divisional Staff have their
permanent quarters. Beyond this again the surface is almost level for a
space, then it rises again with increasing gradient, past the lines of
the 1st Lowland Field Ambulance, to the ridge half a mile away, behind
which it drops precipitously to the sea.
In one of his earlier despatches, Sir Ian Hamilton very aptly likens the
configuration of the Peninsula between Achi Baba and Cape Helles to the
bowl of a huge spoon, with Achi Baba at the heel of the bowl and the
Cape at its toe. This Rest Camp of ours was near the toe and rather to
the left of the centre line; in full view of Achi Baba itself, but
screened to some extent from its lower slopes by an insignificant
intermediate crest-line about 200 yards to our front.
The so-called "trenches" as we found them, bore more resemblance to
hastily constructed strings of golf bunkers than to anything else on
earth. They did not appear to have been laid out on any definite plan.
Speaking generally they ran in long irregular lines from East to West,
the narrow strips of pathway between being broken here and there by
detached experimental efforts. The excavations were of all shapes and
sizes. They varied in depth from two to about six feet according to the
caprice of the designers and the energy of the most recent occupants.
One could not walk five yards in the dark without stepping or falling
into some sort of hole and drawing lurid language from an abruptly
wakened sleeper. The parapets were ragged, irregular, and rarely
bullet-proof. There was no suggestion of revetting; probably there were
not more than twenty sandbags in the area allotted to the Battalion.
Sandbags were scarce enough in all conscience in the fighting trenches,
and it was not surprising that none could be spared for the troops in
the back lines; any which might be available being required for such
semi-permanent works as Divisional and Brigade Headquarters and the
trenches occupied by the R.E. and other Divisional troops. Nor was there
any form of overhead cover. In some places the dangerous expedient of
under-cutting the sides had been resorted to to secure a little shelter.
Fortunately the undersoil was stiff, the sides of the trenches could be
cut quite perpendicular and in fine weather there was slight risk of the
under-cutting causing subsidences. Shade from the sun's heat could only
be obtained by stretching ground sheets or blankets overhead. These also
served to keep off the night dews.
The C.O.'s dug-out was the only one which boasted anything approaching a
roof. It was burrowed into the bank under the hedge which has been
already referred to. The floor space was about 8 feet by 4, entrance
being obtained by going down two or three roughly cut steps. For about
two thirds of its length--the furthest in two-thirds--it was roofed with
branches and some old torn sacking, covered by 6 or 8 inches of loose
earth. This roof was level with the bank of the hedge and gave about
four feet of headroom. Living in--or rather below--the hedge, the C.O.
soon discovered he had to share his quarters with a populous and
flourishing colony of flies, which actively resented his intrusion at
any time during the day, though by night they exhibited an admirable
spirit of resigned toleration. Flies were inevitable, but when strange
winged beasts and enormous centipedes developed the habit of dropping in
casually at inconvenient hours, one felt that one's hospitable instincts
were being over-taxed.
It was on the second or third day of our stay that the Divisional
General, while making an informal inspection of the Camp, found the
C.O.--or we should rather say, ran him to earth--in his den, and after
sitting on the doorstep chatting for a few minutes, dropped a remark as
he departed to the effect that he thought a C.O. should do himself
better in the matter of a dug-out. The seeds of dissatisfaction thus
soon ripened quickly, and came to full fruition when a snake about three
feet long was discovered in the corner where his pillow usually rested.
No doubt he was a harmless, well-meaning chap. Probably his visit was
prompted by the most friendly motives; but when he was urged to clear
out he lifted up his head and became vituperative. After that there was
nothing for it but to cut him into convenient lengths with a shovel,
upon which he was afterwards removed for interment. Shrinking from a
possible interview with his widow the C.O. sought another resting-place,
and a fairly roomy dug-out was excavated for him in the open ground a
few yards north of the hedge. But when he removed to it a large party
of the flies insisted on accompanying him and installing themselves in
his new quarters.
At first the officers messed in the open in picnicky fashion. While this
was pleasant enough there was always an element of uncertainty about it,
for one could never foretell when a meal might be postponed or rudely
interrupted by an outburst of "straffing" from Achi Baba or Asia. So
Captain Simson applied himself to the construction of a dining saloon,
at the digging of which the defaulters sweated for several days. The
result was imposing, a large rectangular excavation not unlike an empty
swimming bath, with a massive table of solid clay, and benches of the
same simple design and material round the walls. Though, of course,
roofless, it afforded a measure of safety from shells, but one shudders
to think what would have been the effect had a high explosive landed on
the table while a meal was in progress.
Captain Findlay had made a rapid recovery from his wound and was
awaiting us when we arrived at Rest Camp. A fortnight later--on 31st
July--we received a welcome reinforcement by the return to the Battalion
of Captain V.P.B. Stewart and twenty-six other ranks from the Lowland
Division Cyclist Company.
The climate, the flies, and the experiences of the preceding fortnight
had already begun to tell upon the general health of the Battalion.
Diarrhoea and dysentery were prevalent throughout all the troops on the
Peninsula, and we suffered with the rest. One factor which contributed
to, if indeed it was not--as many of us believed--the primary cause of,
the prevalence of these diseases, was the unsuitability of bully-beef
and hard biscuits as the basis of our diet under the weather and other
conditions in which we were then living. This was quickly recognised by
the medical authorities and important modifications were soon introduced
in the scale of rations. The toothsome Maconochie, rather rich for the
average digestion under a tropical sun, disappeared in the meantime from
the menu. Fresh meat--or, to speak more strictly, frozen meat--of
excellent quality was substituted for bully, which latter was only
issued on the rare occasions when, owing to transport difficulties, no
frozen was available. The hard biscuits gave place to good bread; the
ration of desiccated vegetables was increased; an issue of rice was
instituted; cheese was reduced and preserved milk increased. The only
rations which were never quite sufficient to satisfy the men were those
of tea and sugar--especially sugar. They liked their tea very strong and
_very_ sweet, and quickly tired of rice unless boiled with lots of
sugar, which the limited rations of sugar did not run to. Jam was
plentiful and popular; marmalade only appealed to a limited circle. Some
uncharitably minded fighting men were wont to insinuate that the best
beloved brands of jam, such as strawberry and raspberry, never got
beyond the Beach, the A.S.C. who handled the supplies being suspected of
a nefarious weakness for these varieties. One hesitates to listen to
such calumnious suggestions, but it must be admitted that for many long
weeks we received an overwhelming proportion of "Apricot Jam" with
which, popular as it originally was, the men became so "fed up" that
they changed its name to "Parapet Jam," because, they explained, it was
so invariably thrown over the parapet instead of being eaten.
In his desire to keep the troops fit, our Divisional Commander issued
instructions that the hottest and most trying hours of the afternoon
were to be set aside as a period of rest similar to that which, he
explained, is officially enforced in the Italian army under the name of
"Riposo." Between two and four o'clock no work was to be done: fatigues
unless vitally urgent were to be suspended: all ranks were to remain
lying down quietly in their quarters: there was to be no moving about:
noise of any kind--even conversation--was forbidden: nothing was to be
allowed to interfere with our afternoon naps. "Redosso," as the men
promptly dubbed it, bade fair to become an extremely popular
institution. But the General had reckoned without the flies. They had
not been consulted and their Union leaders were bitterly opposed to any
form of compulsory repose. The hours which we were supposed to devote to
refreshing sleep were those during which they were usually most active,
and in vehement assertion of the rights of Fly Labour they worked harder
than ever, with the result that our "Riposo" proved a period the very
reverse of restful.
The effect of these reforms, medical and military, was to check to some
extent the ravages of the diseases which most afflicted us; but to
eradicate them entirely, even to prevent their spreading, was beyond
human power. From the middle of July until we left Gallipoli for good,
our effective strength was being continually reduced by dysentery,
pyrexia, and jaundice. There were of course other forms of sickness and
disease, but the number of cases was negligible. The wastage from the
three mentioned was not uniform, but it was constant. The number sent to
hospital during each month would range between 5 and 10 per cent. of our
strength, as that strength decreased from month to month. These, it must
be remembered, only represented the worst cases, a very small proportion
of which returned to duty, although fatal cases were fortunately rare. A
much larger percentage of those affected were able to remain with the
Battalion and carry on their duties, though with temporarily impaired
energy and efficiency. The older N.C.O.'s and men, and the very young
ones, suffered most severely. The officers had no better fortunes than
their comrades in the ranks, and we lost several during this stay in
Rest Camp.
Lieuts. A.B. Currie and R.M. Miller had been sent to hospital while we
were still up in the trenches. Three more were sent off on 20th
July--Captain A. Dingwall Kennedy (our medical officer), Captain J.D.
Black and Lieut. L. MacLellan. Scarcely one of those who remained was
not affected to some extent. Captain Kennedy's duties were taken over by
Lieut. Downes of the 1st Lowland Field Ambulance.
General P.W. Hendry, our Brigade Commander, had been in indifferent
health since our arrival at Mudros on 1st July, but had struggled gamely
to carry on his duties. By the end of the month, however, it had become
obvious that his illness was gaining a firmer grip on him and the
doctors ordered him off the Peninsula. He went most reluctantly, and we
were sorry to part with him. We were exceptionally fortunate in the
officer appointed to succeed him, General H.G. Casson, who had been in
command of the 2nd South Wales Borderers (the old 24th) since the
original landing on 25th April, and whose practical experience of
fighting in Gallipoli was the best possible qualification for the
command of the Brigade in the work which lay before it.
During all this time the various Beaches and Rest Camps were regularly
shelled by the enemy's heavy guns on the reverse slopes of Achi Baba
and--with even deadlier effect--from the Asiatic coast. The beaches and
the roads leading to them over the ridge received most of this
unpleasant attention. We used to watch the big shells bursting over the
cliffs and wonder how life could be possible on the beaches below. Many
tales reached us of casualties in the administrative and non-combatant
services whose work lay there, and many of the marvellous escapes of
individuals. For instance, at Gully Beach on one occasion a surgeon was
blown to pieces, while the patient upon whom he was operating escaped
untouched. The roads were exposed over their whole length but certain
special points were usually selected as targets, and several high
explosives would land at short intervals on one of these. The resulting
casualties were extraordinarily few, but it was hair-raising to see--as
we often did--a mounted man, or a gharry with its pair of mules and
Indian driver, suddenly blotted out in the dust and smoke of a huge
burst, to reappear, when the cloud cleared, moving on its way as
unconcernedly as if nothing had happened. But the next rider or driver
to pass this particular spot generally made a slight detour.
The Rest Camps were also favoured with a few shells at all sorts of odd
times. Some units lost quite a number of men in this way. In this
respect we were more fortunate than most of our neighbours, for although
we had several men hit while out on fatigue we had in the whole three
weeks--if we are not mistaken--only one man wounded actually in Rest
Camp. This comparative immunity we attributed to our lines being partly
screened from the view of the enemy's observing stations by the low
lying crest to the north. Still we had several thrilling half-hours when
shrapnel spraying over our lines compelled us to lie low. Only once in
these weeks were we treated to a dose of high explosives. This happened
about seven one morning when most of the officers were at breakfast in
the swimming-bath mess room. Six big "coal-boxes" were hurled on us in
rapid succession. One exploded near our mule lines just beyond the
Quartermaster's dump, doing no damage to speak of; a second landed and
burst right inside a trench occupied by several of the Headquarters
signallers. We thought they were all wiped out, but, miraculously, not a
man was hurt. They were even laughing--somewhat nervously, it must be
admitted--as they scrambled out of the ruined trench. Another shell
exploded about 30 yards short of our mess, leaving a symmetrical
saucer-shaped crater about 6 feet in diameter and a little over 2 feet
deep in the centre. Its dust showered over us and covered our unfinished
meal with a thick layer. It had been an unusually attractive breakfast
too! The other three shells were "duds."
Training of any kind was impossible. There was no ground unswept by fire
on which to train. Two or three men might move across the open with
impunity, but the appearance at any point of even a small party, say a
group standing or sitting in the pathways between the rest trenches,
often drew fire. Still the men got plenty of exercise, though it was of
a kind not exactly popular with the average infantryman. Day after day,
the Battalion was called upon to supply from 400 to 600 men for
fatigues. Sometimes these were day fatigues under the R.E.; more
frequently for the A.S.C. or Ordnance at one or other of the beaches,
unloading and stacking stores and ammunition; but most of our work was
by night, when large parties were employed under the R.E. in the
construction of main communication trenches to enable troops to be moved
up to the various sectors of the firing line without using the exposed
roads or crossing the open. Though the men never pretended to like this
work it was carried out cheerily enough.
Facilities for personal cleanliness were rare on the Peninsula, but when
in rest camp the men were encouraged to bathe, a portion of "X" Beach,
which was within half a mile of our lines, being allotted for this
purpose. Full advantage was taken of this. The cliff overlooking the
beach was honeycombed with untidy dug-outs; the beach itself rough and
dirty, the water still dirtier, clay-coloured and coated with a thick
scum of straw, grain, and other light debris from the barges that were
unloading--all that could honestly be said in its favour was that it was
wet. After a time the officers discovered that it was worth the
forty-minutes walk to bathe at a cleaner and more attractive beach,
Morto Bay, on the other side of the Peninsula. This lay within the
French sphere. To reach it we had to pass through some of our allies
Rest Lines, and it was interesting to have a peep at them and at their
ways of doing things. The beach at Morto Bay was clean and sandy; the
water clear, though very shallow for a long distance out. It was an
ideal spot for a lazy floating bathe. But it had one drawback. The
enemy's Asiatic batteries and their aircraft were rather addicted to
landing shells and dropping bombs in its placid waters--shells and bombs
intended, no doubt, for the camps near the shore, but none the less
distracting to the bathers whose ablutions they disturbed. Two of the
officers returned one evening with a thrilling tale of a huge bomb which
had landed in the sea within fifty yards of them.
Our Church Parades, which were only possible when in rest camp, were
peculiarly impressive. To assemble the men during daylight was out of
the question; the services were therefore held under cover of darkness.
Although attendance was voluntary there was almost invariably a good
turn-out. None of us is likely ever to forget these little gatherings;
the solemn quiet which the distant crackle of rifles seemed but to
emphasise; the Psalms and Hymns, in which all joined devoutly but in
tones muted and softened in harmony with the evening stillness; the
short lesson, read by the light of a screened candle or electric torch;
the simple prayers for our comrades facing death, for the sick, the
wounded, and the dying, for the bereaved, and for the dear ones waiting
for us at home; the brief, practical address; and--to finish--the
National Anthem, which one sang with dimmed eyes and a lump in the
throat--it seemed to mean so much. No service in the finest man-built
place of worship, with pealing organ and highly-trained choir, with
sermon earnest and inspired, could have such power to move and impress,
to convey such certainty of the near presence of the Almighty and the
Eternal, as did these humble, informal meetings under the stars, the
congregation dimly visible as it clustered on the parapets of the
nearest trenches or squatted on the ground at the Padre's feet.
While we were taking our leisure (!) in rear of the firing-line, things
in front of us were comparatively quiet. There must have been times of
anxiety for the higher commands, but we knew nothing of these or of what
might be impending, except that everyone must have realised that our
available force on the Peninsula was none too strong for the task which
it would have to face if the enemy should make a determined effort to
pierce our lines. At the end of the first week the Battalion was again
placed at the disposal of the 29th Division, then holding the extreme
left of the British line. The chief use they made of us was to call for
large fatigues to construct terraced dug-outs for them in the sea-cliff,
but for several successive nights we had to sleep in our boots with
equipment and ammunition beside us, ready for an immediate move. We had
also to link up all our lines of rest trenches with communication
trenches to render movement possible under shell fire and to excavate at
high pressure a communication leading up the west side of the Pink Farm
Road into one of the main cross-cuts. We cannot recall the official
designation of this trench; we always spoke of it as Armstrong Alley, in
compliment to our Brigade Major who had driven us to the task of
constructing it.
It happened one quiet forenoon that a batman was cleaning his officer's
revolver. In rest camps revolvers are not supposed to be loaded, but
this one was, and the batman was so unversed in the ways of revolvers
that he failed to recognise the fact. A revolver in the hands of a
novice is almost as dangerous as an automatic pistol. In fact it spells
considerable danger to all in the vicinity. It was therefore scarcely
surprising that the batman let off a round in his efforts to remove the
cylinder. As ill luck would have it the Divisional General chanced at
that moment to be passing through our lines preceded by an orderly. The
bullet whizzed close past the General and brought down the orderly with
a wound in the leg. The thing was, of course, a pure accident; but the
possible consequences of carelessness in handling loaded fire-arms are
so serious that the man who accidentally lets off a round is invariably
punished for his negligence, even when no serious harm has resulted. In
this particular instance the offender would have appeared in ordinary
course at the regimental orderly room the following morning, when the
circumstances would have been enquired into and the claims of justice
satisfied. But the General, who was naturally annoyed--to put it
mildly--departed from the normal procedure and, taking the matter into
his own hands, sent for the culprit and interviewed him on the spot,
whether for purposes of admonition or of punishment we know not. After
an impassioned harangue in which, with many winged words, he fully
expounded the enormity of the offence, he concluded dramatically
somewhat in this fashion: "I hope you are satisfied with your morning's
work! You see what you have done. You have wounded this poor fellow, and
you very nearly hit me! Are you satisfied?" It was an awkward question
to answer with due tact. Rattled as he was by the dressing down he had
just received the man could hardly be blamed if his reply was ambiguous.
At least it might have been more neatly expressed. It was "No, sir."
On 29th July a letter written by Lieut. J.G. Milne from hospital at
Alexandria brought us the bad news that Major Jowitt had died of septic
poisoning on the hospital ship _Rewa_ on 17th July, while on the passage
to Alexandria, and that Major Downie, who had been on the same ship, had
succumbed to his wounds in hospital on the 20th--the day after being
landed. The loss of two officers so deservedly popular was sincerely
mourned throughout the battalion. Major Jowitt's death was wholly
unexpected. His wounds had not been considered serious and the
possibility of complications had not suggested itself to any of us. From
the first we had known that Major Downie's case was a critical one, but
our latest word of him before the hospital ship left Helles had been
that "he was getting on better than could be expected," and all had been
hoping for further news of good progress.
Before we left rest camp all ranks underwent two inoculations against
cholera.
Early in August we learned that the Brigade would shortly take over the
extreme left sector at Fusilier Bluff. After a reconnaissance of the
position by Colonel Morrison and the Adjutant, a party of eight officers
and sixteen N.C.O.'s went forward on August 6th to spend a night in the
new firing line. On the way up, as they were passing along the westmost
sector of the Eski line, one of our most promising young
N.C.O.'s--Corpl. W. Wood, "D" Company--was killed by a stray bullet.
This was an historic day on the Peninsula. Fifteen miles up the Aegean
coast the first landing was being made at Suvla Bay. To divert the
enemy's attention and to supplement the advance there and at Anzac, the
29th and 42nd Divisions attacked on our front that afternoon.
In spite of very terrible losses these two divisions gained some ground.
The Turks, however, threw in reinforcements from their reserves
concentrated at Maidos, a force with which they had boastfully
threatened to drive us into the sea. The bulk of this army stemmed the
advance at Suvla, but enough could also be spared for the fight at Cape
Helles to annul our success. Indeed by August 7th only the forward
portion of the Vineyard, between the Krithia and Achi Baba nullahs,
remained in the hands of the 42nd Division as the nett gain of the
previous day's battle.
Our party of officers and N.C.O.'s spent the night at the Border
Barricade sector. Up there on the left they had the pleasure of coming
across our pre-war chaplain, the Rev. J.A. Cameron Reid, who was at that
time attached to the 1st K.O.S.B. They got back to rest camp the
following afternoon, having been compelled to lie low for a
considerable time in the Gully, which had been heavily shelled by the
enemy since sunrise.
The same day our move to the left sector was cancelled, and instead we
were sent up at 8 p.m. to relieve the Chatham and Deal Battalion in the
Eski line and to be in general reserve to the 42nd Division in the
centre sector. On the trek forward two men of "A" Company (Captain D.E.
Brand now in command) were wounded near Clapham Junction in the Krithia
nullah.
By 11 o'clock "A" and "B" Companies were installed in the Eski line to
the east of the nullah, with Battalion Headquarters on the inner flank,
while "C" and "D" (now under Captain T.A. Fyfe and Captain R.H. Morrison
respectively), with the Machine-Gun Section, occupied the line west of
the small nullah. The trench between the two nullahs was in ruins owing
to shell-fire directed against a battery behind it.
Indeed the whole position, though more than 1000 yards from the firing
line, was a particularly unhealthy one with so much desultory fire going
on in front. All the stray bullets seemed to drop in the vicinity and it
was obvious that the Turk, taking advantage of the observation which his
higher position yielded him, had in addition rifles or machine-guns
trained on it. Occasional bullets, for instance, kept plugging into the
ground beside Headquarters' dug-out. One of these imbedded itself in a
box which was being carried in by an orderly. After that anybody passing
in or out moved, as the Colonel described it, with a well assumed air of
having something to do in a hurry.
During our seven days here, the Battalion sent forward double parties of
about three officers and 100 men each for night work in No-man's Land.
They were extending No. 7 sap through the Vineyard, and digging across
it a new trench, which was afterwards known to fame as Argyle Street.
It was at this time that the Colonel initiated a morning conference with
company commanders, which met at Headquarters at 9 a.m. daily. It
afforded an opportunity for an exchange of views upon the various
questions affecting us and saved much correspondence, rendering the
issue of formal Battalion Orders unnecessary except for special
operations.
Preparatory to our taking over the trenches in front, Major Findlay,
Captain Morrison, and Lieut. Leith spent the night of 11th/12th August
in the Vineyard sector. About 7 p.m. on the 12th, however, the Turks
started a determined attack on the Vineyard, and succeeded in recovering
from the hardy Lancashire territorials most of the ground they had so
gallantly captured on the 6th. During this action the Battalion "stood
to," and "A" and "B" Companies moved forward to the Redoubt line for
eventualities. They returned the following morning, and in the course of
the same day the Battalion took over the firing line to the right--that
is from the small nullah to the Horse Shoe. On the left our front line
(Argyle Street) was still far from safe and required further digging and
sandbagging, while on the right the chief work in progress was a tunnel
which was being driven from the Achi Baba nullah up to the Horse Shoe.
Before we moved up we had received three officers from the 2/5th H.L.I.,
Captain P. MacLellan Thomson and Sec.-Lieuts. A. Barbé and Colvil. The
former we lost at once to the 5th Argylls, who were short of Captains.
Captain A. Pirie Watson, R.A.M.C., took over the duties of medical
officer from Lieut. Downes, who returned to his own unit, and for a time
we lost the services of Major Neilson. He had been left behind ill in
rest camp. Getting worse he was invalided home, but returned to us in
record time.
On the night of 13th August, Sergt. D. Macdonald ("A" Company) who had
served in the Battalion for thirteen or fourteen years, after previous
service in the line battalions of the H.L.I., was killed in F12A while
shifting a sand-bag on the parapet.
It was hard work getting our trenches into order and collecting the
ammunition which was lying about in all sorts of odd corners; here a few
unopened boxes, there a pile of loose rounds. The French on our right
handed over to us 90,000 rounds of British ammunition, loose and in
boxes, which they had retrieved in their sector. Besides ammunition, we
made a big collection of miscellaneous equipment. Verey lights, bombs,
etc., all of which were stacked centrally ready to be sent down to
Ordnance when opportunity might offer. Good progress was also made with
the reconstruction of Argyle Street.
During the night of 15th August Lieut. Leith and Sergt. G. Downie crept
out from our line near the small nullah and got close up to F12 at a
point where a blasted tree with a shell-hole through its trunk stood out
a few yards in front of the enemy's trench. They heard men conversing
inside, and a shot or two was fired over the parapet. Grenades were also
thrown from a work of some kind near the tree. These must have been on
the off-chance of catching some of our people in the open, for Lieut.
Leith was confident that he and his companion were not spotted. Nothing
was observed to indicate the presence of machine-guns in F12, but the
ground in front of the trench was searched occasionally by enfilade fire
from F13. The conclusion at which Lieut. Leith arrived was that the
trench itself was but thinly held and that for its defence the enemy
relied chiefly on fire from F13. After remaining in observation for a
considerable time the scouts crept carefully back, and the results of
their work were passed to the Brigade at 5 a.m. with our morning
progress report.
Later in the day we were asked to report to the Brigade in writing on
the enemy's trenches in front of our sector, as to the feasibility of
seizing F12. Our opinion was that there would be little difficulty in
rushing F12 without incurring serious casualties, but that to
consolidate and hold it under frontal and enfilade fire from F13 (in
which the enemy appeared to have machine-guns) and possibly also
enfilade fire from F12A, would be very costly. We suggested that before
any attempt on F12 should be made, at least the southern portion of F13
ought to be rendered untenable.
All forenoon rumours were floating about that arrangements were being
made for an attempt to retake the Vineyard by troops on our left.
Confirmation of these rumours came in the afternoon from the Brigade
Major when he telephoned to inform us that the attack was to be
delivered during the coming night, and asked us to send along, to
assist, a catapult which was in use in our F13 bomb station, and the
R.M.L.I. team, which had been left with us to work it. This was done,
though the special authority of the Naval Division had to be obtained
before the corporal of the R.M.L.I. party could be prevailed upon to
move his catapult and team from the spot where it had been posted by his
own C.O. In view of the possibility that the enemy might be tempted,
when he found the Vineyard attacked, to retaliate upon Argyle Street,
fifty of "D" Company slept in F12, ready to move immediately to the
assistance of the garrison of the new trench.
About 11 p.m. the Brigade gave us information as to the hour and other
particulars of the attack, and instructions that we were to assist the
attack by a heavy fire demonstration at 2.31 a.m. against the trenches
on our front, and that if the C.O. considered the conditions justified
it, we were to push forward and secure F12. The Brigadier agreed with
our views put forward in our report, and impressed upon the C.O. that he
did not expect him to attempt this unless an unexpected favourable
opportunity presented itself, but that in any case patrols might find
out more about F12. Patrols were accordingly warned to be in readiness
and, in the orders issued as to the fire demonstration, the firing line
and support companies were warned that they might be required to
advance.
Punctually at 2.31 a.m. on 16th August, we opened fire along our whole
front. The intensity and volume of the enemy's reply were startling.
Within a minute rifles and machine-guns were showering a hail of lead on
our parapets. It almost looked as if they had been expecting an attack
to develop from our sector. At any rate they had been very much on the
alert and their trenches were strongly held. This strength they
disclosed to an extent which at once proved the futility of any attempt
on our part to rush F12. It was not a case of a sudden burst of fire
dying away rapidly. The General had instructed the C.O. to report to him
by telephone at 2.50. At that hour there was not the slightest
diminution apparent in the spray of bullets which was lashing our front.
At least one machine-gun was pelting, at very close range, the barricade
blocking the northern end of the stretch of F12 held by us--the very
barricade behind which one of our patrols was waiting to slip out into
the open. Others were ripping up our sandbags here and there along the
line. No patrol could possibly venture out into such a storm. This was
reported to the General, who asked the C.O. to ring him up again when
things became quieter.
Within about twenty minutes the machine-guns dropped out. The enemy had
apparently come to the conclusion that any attack we might have been
meditating had been nipped in the bud. Their rifle fire also slackened
perceptibly, although it continued until daybreak much heavier than
their usual night firing. On comparing notes, we found that two, if not
three, machine-guns, had disclosed themselves in the dilapidated length
of F12 between our barricade and the "shell-holed" tree--a portion of
the trench which we had hitherto regarded as entirely abandoned--and
that there were more of them in the same trench between the tree and
the small nullah; the exact positions could not however be located.
Several had also been spotted in F13 and from the direction of F12A. The
trap had been baited for us, and it was well that we had not walked into
it.
At 3 a.m. the C.O. again reported to the General, who was much
interested to hear of the nest of machine-guns we had discovered. He
asked for a written report and sketch showing approximately their
positions. He also informed me that the attack on the Vineyard had not
been successful. Lieut. Leith took the sketch in hand at once and we
were able to send it off, with the detailed report desired, before seven
o'clock.
In Argyle Street about 10 a.m. Lieut. E.T. Townsend was wounded in the
shoulder by a sniper's bullet.
The same day Colonel Morrison handed over the sector to the 7th H.L.I.
and installed the battalion in reserve trenches immediately behind Wigan
Road, Redoubt line and the First Australian line. Here we supplied
various digging and salvage fatigues for four days. These were arranged
in easy reliefs so that we were able to wipe off arrears of sleep.
This was a difficult sector for the Quartermaster and his men. Setting
out from rest camp each evening with the rations--and mails when there
were any--loaded on mules, they ran the gauntlet across the open to a
point where they entered the Mule trench, which ran up the side of the
Achi Baba nullah.
This trench was not wide enough for pack-animals to pass in it. The
traffic had therefore to be run to a timetable, one battalion's mules
having to make the journey up to the advanced dump and away again before
the mules of another battalion entered. Casualties on the way or delay
caused by a recalcitrant mule were a constant nightmare, but Lieut. T.
Clark always delivered the goods. From the advanced dump the rations
were man-handled by companies to their own cook-houses.
Our water supply was carried in camel tanks, empty rum jars or petrol
tins from Romano's Well. Later on water from even this source had to be
chlorinated and the well lost its charm.
From now, about the end of August, till the end of October, life was
somewhat monotonous, consisting of spells in the firing-line and moves
to rest trenches, for short periods. While in the line we had little to
do in the way of defending our trenches, as it was pretty obvious the
Turk did not intend to attack. This did not, however, save us from
providing large numbers of fatigue parties. The ground which we occupied
soon became a network of trenches and we were always endeavouring to
push forward our front line by means of T-headed saps which were
ultimately linked up. The object in this was to get as near to the
enemy's front line as to allow our mining operations.
We found the Turk easily got the "wind up," more especially at night,
and for very little reason he would start a burst of rapid fire, which
sometimes would be kept up for a very considerable period. The staff
frequently arranged various ruses to try and draw him in this way. For
instance, in the end of August, on receiving news of Italy's declaration
of war on Turkey, orders were sent to the front line that at a certain
hour during the night, all troops would cheer, to give the Turk the
impression that we were going to attack. Of course this immediately
started an outburst from the Turkish lines; rifles, machine-guns and a
proportion of the Turkish artillery all joined in. To say the least of
it, it was uncomfortable in the trenches, but few casualties occurred
there. Most of the damage, which in reality was very small, took place
well behind our lines, as the Turk on these occasions always fired high,
and we came to the conclusion that they must stand on the floor of the
trench, with their rifles pointing upwards over the parapet, firing as
hard as they could. It certainly had the advantage of disclosing Turkish
machine-gun positions, and we were able, with the help of the artillery,
if not to destroy the machine-gun, at least make it move to another part
of the trench.
[Illustration: GALLIPOLI
BATTLE OF 12th JULY, 1915]
Again, on receiving news of a big advance in France, we carried out a
similar plan to annoy the Turk. This time our artillery joined in, each
battery firing a salute of twenty-one guns on selected objectives. This
again very successfully drew the Turk, and probably he was never quite
certain of our intentions, and may have formed the opinion that our
infantry was unwilling to attack, an opinion which we formed of him
later on with justification.
The ships which were lying off Cape Helles occasionally carried out
minor bombardments. It was very interesting to watch the effect of their
shells bursting when they got a direct hit on the Turkish lines, as of
course we had no land guns of such heavy calibre. The ships were
perfectly safe from any reply the Turkish artillery cared to make and we
in the front line had to suffer for the navy's demonstration. No one
really objected to this, although there was a lot of "grousing," because
we were glad to feel that we had the support of these big guns, which
must have harassed the enemy tremendously.
The people that annoyed us most of all, however, were the trench mortar
companies, who lived in comparative comfort in substantial dug-outs
behind the front line. A detachment of these people would frequently
visit our trenches, take up a position and proceed to bombard the
enemy's line and bomb saps with doubtful success. It was enough,
however, to annoy the Turk, and very soon spotting the position of the
trench mortar, he would concentrate several guns on it, and at the first
sign of any enemy reply our trench mortar friends would pack up and make
a hurried departure, realising that they were due at another part of
the line to carry out a similar demonstration.
The sickness which had started earlier on was continuing to take heavy
toll of all the troops on the Peninsula and the battalion was gradually
dwindling in strength. Of the full strength battalion which had landed
at the beginning of July, there were only left sixteen officers and 498
other ranks at the end of September. While these numbers further
decreased later on, Corps Headquarters realised the danger of this drain
on the troops, especially as it seemed impossible to obtain
reinforcements from home, and started a rest camp at Imbros with the
idea of giving a rest to officers and men who most required it. This
camp was gradually moved to Mudros, and in all, three parties were sent,
and the lucky ones benefited considerably from the change. Several
officers joined us during this period; some of them unfortunately were
not with us long owing to this sickness. Early in November we got our
only fresh draft from home, Lieut. Andrews and forty-two men from the
2/5th H.L.I. joining us. Major Neilson also rejoined the battalion at
this time.
A few days after this the Battalion moved from the line for another
short spell in rest camp to an area which was new to the Battalion, but
had been vacated by the 155th Brigade before our arrival, they relieving
us in the line. The officer's mess accommodation was somewhat limited
and it was found necessary to form two battalion messes, Headquarters
and half the officers occupying a fairly comfortable dug-out with
matting roof for a shade. The other mess was constructed by Captain
Fyfe, who worried the Adjutant for working parties until he had dug a
large enough hole in the ground as he considered would be necessary. The
next problem was to get some sort of shelter, as the weather was
beginning to break and we were endeavouring to prepare for rain. A large
canvas sheet was produced in the usual skilful manner of Captain Fyfe
for obtaining what he wanted, and then arose the question of how this
roof was to be supported. Nothing daunted, he approached the Colonel and
managed to borrow some precious pieces of timber which had been used by
the C.O. in his headquarters during the last spell in the line. This
wood had been got with some difficulty from the engineers and was very
precious. Once he had it in his possession, however, he seemed to forget
the use it was really intended for, and finding that the beams were much
too long to support the canvas roof, instead of considering some means
of raising the roof or lowering the beams into the ground, promptly
sawed them in half and was perfectly satisfied with the result, which
was really excellent as far as the other members of the mess were
concerned. Very shortly after the mess had been finished, however, the
C.O. came round to pay a visit, and was horrified, to say the least of
it, to see the destruction that had been carried out on the borrowed
beams. Captain Fyfe, however, had a ready answer and the trouble was
smoothed over.
For some time past we had had signs that the hot weather was not going
to continue and we had frequent showers of rain. One afternoon clouds
began to gather from the south, and just as it was beginning to get dark
we realised we were in for a pretty severe thunderstorm. With thunder we
knew to expect rain and made hurried preparations, but no preparations
we possibly could have made would have saved us from the deluge that
came that evening. It rained steadily, in a way that few of us had ever
experienced before, for several hours, and dug-outs soon filled up with
water. It was impossible to go to bed, and a weary miserable night was
passed by everyone praying for the rain to go off. An unfortunate
feature was that the Quartermaster the day before received from Ordnance
the Battalion's winter clothing, and had issued it that morning. It had
been issued by companies to the men in the afternoon and by night it
was sodden with rain. It was impossible to keep anything dry, and all we
could hope for was some sunshine to follow after the storm. In the early
morning the rain went off and when day broke there were some very funny
sights. Few will forget the figure of Dow fishing in a deep pool of
water for various articles of clothing with a stick, while his empty
valise floated about on the surface. Fortunately the day was bright and
warm and, as it is possible in a climate like that, we got blankets and
clothing dried.
To add to our other troubles an epidemic of jaundice had broken out
about this time, which accounted for a great many officers and men
leaving the Battalion. Aitken, if one could judge the severity of the
attack by the colour of the skin, must have been very ill indeed,
because he was a deep yellow colour from head to foot. He was determined
not to leave the Battalion, and during his spell in the line before
coming down to rest camp he had been regularly dosing himself with
various pills and only eating very light food, as far as it was possible
to regulate one's diet. On reaching rest camp, however, he decided to
adopt a kill or cure treatment and gave up taking the doctor's drugs.
The mess stores consisted largely of cases of tinned crab and a good
supply of whisky, neither of which, with the greatest stretch of
imagination, could be called light diet. Aitken, however, took large
quantities of both and returned to the line, white and feeling very fit.
It is difficult to make any medical man believe this story, but
nevertheless it is true.
After this doubtful rest we received orders to return to the line and
relieve the 156th Brigade, who a short time before had carried out a
successful attack on a small sector of the Turkish line by blowing up
their position and occupying the crater. It was this part of the line
just east of Krithia nullah we had to take over. On arriving in the
trenches about midday on the 21st November, and during the relief, we
were somewhat disturbed by the enemy directing artillery fire on the
parapets and communication trenches, which, although some readers may
consider strange, was quite an unusual occurrence. Little attention was
paid to this, however, until about 4 p.m., when without any warning the
enemy opened up a heavy bombardment on this particular part of the line
which we held. This continued for about an hour and we were confident
that the Turk was about to attack. Suddenly the artillery fire ceased
and a red flag was seen being waved from the enemy's trenches. Shortly
afterwards two Turks came over the parapet but were immediately shot
down. They were followed by an officer and a handful of men, possibly a
dozen, who advanced a short distance, but when about half of their
number fell, the remainder turned and bolted back to their trenches. All
along the enemy's line we could see bayonets appearing above the parapet
and there is no doubt that he intended to attack, but, apart from the
few who actually left the trenches, the attack did not develop. Our
artillery during his bombardment, and more so after his artillery fire
stopped, certainly directed a very heavy fire on his trenches, and we
can only assume that the Turkish infantry was suffering from "cold feet"
on account of this. Our casualties were practically negligible.
During the bombardment, an amusing incident took place with Buchanan's
servant, Inglis, who was very deaf. This deafness increased with the
climate of the Peninsula, but no one imagined that it had increased to
such an extent as we found out that day. Inglis had gone to draw water
at a neighbouring well before the bombardment started, and later, when
the Turkish artillery fire was about at its height, was discovered
strolling along the support in the most unconcerned manner with a bucket
of water in his hand. Another of the servants, Kirk, who had been left
at "B" Company Headquarters in one of the communication trenches, was
found after the bombardment lying on the ground with a dud shell close
to his feet. This shell, Kirk explained afterwards, had arrived a few
minutes before, and striking the parapet of the communication trench
some distance away, had ricocheted and landed with a thud and a cloud of
dust beside him. He was still in the state of being uncertain whether he
was alive or not and was very glad, when spoken to, to find that he was
able to reply.
A certain amount of repair had to be carried out on these trenches which
had suffered from the bombardment and this kept us busy for the
following days. After which we were relieved and moved back to reserve
trenches. A message was received by the C.O. from the Corps Commander
congratulating the Battalion on its steadiness during the "attack."
Life on the Peninsula was now becoming very uncomfortable owing to the
weather conditions. We had many days of rain, and the Gallipoli soil is
of a peculiar clay nature which sticks to one's boots when wet and is
very difficult to remove. We had not even the luxury of roofed dug-outs
in many places and had to do the best we could to shelter ourselves by
means of our waterproof sheets.
The last few days of the month the weather changed again and we had
several days very severe frost, which put us to our wit's end how to
keep warm. Everyone wore as much clothing as they could possibly get on
and some of us must have presented a very funny appearance. None will
ever forget Major Findlay appearing at the C.O.'s Orderly Room with a
Balaclava helmet on to keep him warm and a glengarry perched on the top
of it with the intention of appearing properly dressed.
After this few days frost the weather broke again and on the evening of
the 27th November we had a few hours' heavy rain which later on turned
into driving snow. This was the tail-end of the blizzard which caused so
much damage and loss of life at Suvla and finally decided the evacuation
of that part of Gallipoli.