CHAPTER XXXVI.

BATTERING AT THE BARRIERS.

The Gallipoli campaign was a diversion that did not succeed--a side-show

that failed. I shall not, therefore, describe the progress of the

fighting in full detail. The story is rather a footnote to the history

of the Great War than part of the text. We may divide the story--as

Cæsar did Gaul--into three parts. Part I. deals with the fighting from

the day of the landing on 25th April down to 13th July, and tells how we

battered at the Achi Baba barrier while the Anzacs strove to carry the

high and rugged hills on their front. Part II. carries on the story to

the middle fortnight of August, when, with the aid of five new

divisions, we made a big effort to break through at Suvla and Anzac; and

Part III. describes the long period of waiting until those December and

January days when we "came off" the peninsula without the loss of a

single life. In this chapter I shall give you very briefly Part I. of

the story.

On the night of 27th April the Allies lay on a line running across the

peninsula about three miles north of Cape Tekke. Next day, at eight in

the morning, an advance was made on the village of Krithia; and though

the Turks strongly opposed us, the 87th Brigade, on the left, advanced

two miles, while the French, on the right, pushed forward a mile. By the

evening of the 27th we securely held the tip of the peninsula. During

the fighting the _Queen Elizabeth_, far out at sea, observed 250 of the

enemy preparing to make an attack from a point where they could not be

seen by the troops on shore. Immediately she dropped a shrapnel shell

amongst them. It weighed 1,800 pounds, and contained 13,000 bullets.

When the smoke cleared away it was discovered that the attacking party

had been completely wiped out.

On 1st May, after we had been reinforced, the Turks made a fierce

counter-attack, and what is known as the First Battle of Krithia

began.[48] All day their big guns roared, and at night, when the moon

rose, their infantry darted forward. On the right, where the shelling

had been heaviest, the Turks opened a gap in our lines, but it was

promptly filled up by the 5th Royal Scots, who with the bayonet cleared

the Turks out of the trenches which they had occupied. All night the

battle raged, and we only held on to our position with the greatest

difficulty. At dawn the next day we counter-attacked, and the whole line

moved forward five hundred yards. Had the French not been held up on the

right by barbed wire and concealed machine guns, we should have carried

Achi Baba that day. Severe fighting went on during the 4th and the 5th,

and our casualties were very heavy. Between the day of the landing and

6th May we lost 14,000 men, 3,593 of whom had been cut off in the

difficult country and made prisoners.

The Second Battle of Krithia, which began on 6th May, lasted for three

days. Our left and centre strove to carry Krithia ridge, while the

French attempted to get across the small river beyond Morto Bay which

you see on the map. The French 75's and the guns of the warships opened

fire, and prepared the way for the advance. Again, however, our Allies

were held up by concealed Turkish trenches; but they struggled on, and

by the close of the day, at the cost of many lives, pushed across the

river. During the night they held their ground, in spite of a strong

counter-attack. Next day the warships shelled the Turkish right, and we

carried the front Turkish trenches, but could go no farther. On the

right the French advanced, but, caught by shrapnel, wavered and fled.

The lost ground, however, was recovered. So the fight went on, every

inch being bought at a heavy price. At the close of the three days'

struggle we had won a thousand yards, but had not touched the enemy's

main position, which was terribly strong. We now knew that it could not

be rushed.

While these battles were going on, the Anzacs were slowly gaining ground

at Gaba Tepe. On the night of 18th May fresh bodies of Turks were flung

against their trenches; but the cool and steady shooting of the men from

"down under" kept them at bay. On that red day the Turks lost some 7,000

men, while the Australians lost but 500. The Turkish trenches were in

some places less than two hundred yards away from those of the Anzacs,

and the ground between was carpeted with dead. You will read on a later

page how Lance-Corporal Jacka won the Victoria Cross by capturing a

trench single-handed.

The third great attempt upon Krithia and Achi Baba was made on 4th June;

but though our men fought like heroes, and the East Lancashire

Territorial Division on the right centre made a splendid advance, we

only gained some five hundred yards on a front of three miles. After

five weeks' desperate struggle we had not touched the outer Turkish

position. The German engineers had made it almost as formidable as the

Labyrinth in Artois. It was clear that without large reinforcements we

could make no headway. Already we had lost 38,636 men--more than the

whole casualty list for three years of the South African War.

The British and French fleets had taken part in every attack, and so far

had been almost unmolested. Now German submarines began to appear; but

before they got to work a Turkish destroyer managed to sink the old

British battleship _Goliath_ by means of a torpedo. On 26th May a German

submarine launched a torpedo which tore through the nets of the

_Triumph_, and sank her in nine minutes. Next day the _Majestic_, when

steaming close to the shore, was sunk in the same manner. It was now

evident that our ships could no longer take part in the bombardment and

escape the submarines, so most of them were sent home, and the Allied

naval strength was reduced to a few of the older battleships and

cruisers, together with destroyers and one of the monitors which had

checked the shoreward march of the Germans on the Flemish coast. Other

new monitors arrived later, and, being submarine-proof, were able to do

excellent work.

By midsummer we knew, more than ever, how necessary it was that a right

of way should be forced through the Dardanelles. We shall learn in a

later chapter that the Russians had been forced back, and were terribly

hard pressed. Without an open sea-road by which they could be supplied

with munitions, it seemed likely that they would be put out of action

for months to come, and that the Germans would be able to spare large

bodies of troops to reinforce the Western front. We therefore determined

to push on in the peninsula with renewed vigour. Reinforcements had now

been landed, and it was necessary that we should strike, and strike hard

at once.

During the first fortnight of June the enemy made many attempts to

thrust us from the positions which we had won, and during the fighting

many notable deeds of heroism were done by our men. A very determined

attack by the Turks on 18th June carried some of our trenches; but they

were won back by a brilliant charge of the 5th Royal Scots and a company

of the 4th Worcesters. You will remember that the 5th Royal Scots had

already distinguished themselves on 1st May. They formed part of what

Sir Ian Hamilton calls "the incomparable 29th Division."

On 21st June we began the work of straightening out our line, which then

formed an awkward salient in the centre. After a heavy bombardment the

French infantry rushed two lines of Turkish trenches. Most desperate

fighting followed, in which every gun that could be brought to bear was

turned on the enemy. Six hundred yards were won, and the whole Allied

right wing was well beyond the little river already mentioned. Though

many of the French were little more than boys, they fought with the

utmost dash and contempt of death.

The right wing having advanced, an attempt was now made to bring up the

left. The movement began on the morning of 28th June with a fierce

bombardment. When it ceased at 10.45 our infantry leaped forward, and

within half an hour had won three lines of trenches between a ravine and

the sea. East of the ravine the 7th Royal Scots made good progress, but

the right met with a heavy fire, and could gain but little ground. A

second attack which began at 11.30 was magnificently made. The men

dashed forward without wavering, and before long our left wing was less

than a mile west of Krithia. The whole of the ravine, which was littered

with dead, rifles, bayonets, boxes of ammunition, soldiers' packs,

firewood, etc., was in our hands. Much booty and about 200 prisoners

were taken, and our losses were not more than 1,750.

On the last day of June there was fighting all round the peninsula. In

the Anzac territory, about midnight, Enver Pasha came specially from

Constantinople to see his army drive the Australians and New Zealanders

into the sea. Heavy firing began, to which the Anzacs replied with

cheers. At 1.30 in the morning a strong column of Turks advanced, but it

was broken to atoms by the rifles and machine guns of the 7th and 8th

Light Horse. Other attacks melted away before the swift and deadly fire

of the defenders, and Enver Pasha returned to Constantinople a

disappointed man.

Early on the morning of the same day the French had a success. They

carried by storm a network of trenches at the head of the river along

which they had been fighting so long, and held on to the ground which

they had won. Sir Ian Hamilton thought that the Turkish losses during

the five days following 28th June were over 20,000; yet all this

sacrifice had availed them nothing.

The July fighting was of the same nature as that of June. On 4th July an

enemy warship fired on the Australian lines, and aeroplanes tried to

drop bombs on our trenches. This was followed by an infantry attack

which was successful at first, but, later on, the Turks were forced to

retire with great loss. We were now up against the main strength of the

Achi Baba fortress, and on 12th July we made a resolute attempt to

capture it.

The bombardment began at dawn, and the first attack was made by the

French and the Scottish Lowland Division on the right and right centre.

The Scots reached the third line of Turkish trenches, but they lost

touch with the French on their right and could not hold their gains.

Another and even fiercer cannonade began at four in the afternoon, and

the Scots, surging forward against a great Turkish redoubt overlooking a

ravine, carried it at the point of the bayonet. By dusk some 400 yards

of ground had been gained. Through the night the Turks came on again and

again with bombs, and the wearied Scots were obliged to give up two

lines of trenches. Next day these positions were recaptured, and there

we stuck. We had reached the limit of our advance from the south. We

were very near to Krithia, but the heights of Achi Baba were as far off

as ever.

* * * * *

The following officers and men won the Victoria Cross during the May,

June, and July fighting.

Lance-Corporal Albert Jacka, 14th Battalion Australian Imperial forces.

A private of Lance-Corporal Jacka's regiment thus describes the deed

which won his chum the V.C.: "There were four Bendigo boys, all mates,

in the 14th, and Bert Jacka and I were two of them. The 14th was

stationed at Courtney's Post, which shared with Quinn's Post[49] and

Pope's Hill all the worst of the fighting during the month of May. On

the night of 18th May and the morning of the next day the Turks tried to

drive us into the sea, and left eight acres of dead between Quinn's and

Courtney's. In the middle of the scrap a wounded man crawled to our

trench, and said the Turks had rushed a communication trench, and there

was only one man keeping them back. There was a call for volunteers, and

I was one of them. When we got near we saw Bert guarding the end of the

trench with his bayonet. He looked like a mad thing. When he saw us

coming, he let out a roar like a bull and rushed into the trench. I made

after him, but I received two bullets, one in the side and the other in

the hand. Well, down I went, and before the others got into the trench

Bert had done it on his own. Five shot and two killed with the bayonet!

He came to see me that night in the dug-out, and I said to him, 'Well,

Bert, you've done a big thing;' all he replied was, 'I think I lost my

head.'" For this most gallant deed Jacka received not only the coveted

cross, but a sum of £500 and a gold medal promised by Mr. John Wren of

Melbourne to the first Australian who should win the great distinction.

Second Lieutenant George Dallas Moor, 3rd Battalion Hampshire Regiment.

This young officer was not nineteen when by his splendid bravery and

presence of mind he saved a dangerous situation. On 5th June a

detachment of a battalion on his left which had lost all its officers

was rapidly retiring before a heavy Turkish attack. Second Lieutenant

Moor grasped the peril in which the rest of the line was thus placed,

and, racing back for some two hundred yards, he stemmed the rout, led

back the leaderless, and at their head recaptured the lost trench. In

September 1914 he was a schoolboy at Cheltenham; nine months later he

had proved himself a born leader of men, and had won the proudest badge

of honour that a soldier can wear.

Second Lieutenant Herbert James, 4th Battalion Worcestershire Regiment.

Two fine deeds of outstanding valour stand to the credit of Lieutenant

James. On 28th June he rallied a retiring party belonging to a

neighbouring unit and led it forward under heavy shell and rifle fire.

He then returned, gathered together another party, and once more

advanced, thus putting new life into the attack. On 3rd July he headed a

party of bomb throwers who pushed up a Turkish communication trench, and

after nearly all of his comrades had been killed or wounded, remained

alone at the head of the trench, exposed to a murderous fire, but

beating back the enemy single-handed till a barrier had been built

behind him and the trench secured. Lieutenant James was a Birmingham

man, who enlisted in the 21st Lancers in 1908. He was of a studious

disposition and had won several prizes for languages. On the outbreak of

war he was granted a commission and joined the famous Worcestershires.

Captain Gerald O'Sullivan, 1st Battalion Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.

This gallant Irishman threw himself into the breach to the south-west of

Krithia during a critical moment on the night of the 1st-2nd July. He

volunteered to lead a party of bomb throwers against a British trench

which the Turks had captured. Advancing in the open under very heavy

fire, he climbed on to the parapet and hurled his bombs into the crowd

of men below. Of course, he was wounded, but not before his example had

inspired his men to such efforts that they recaptured the lost trench.

Strange to say, the day after his honour was announced he was reported

missing.

Sergeant James Somers, 1st Battalion Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.

On the same night that Captain O'Sullivan so distinguished himself,

Sergeant Somers of the same regiment pushed into an enemy trench and

bombed the Turks with great effect. Later on he advanced into the open,

under heavy fire, and held back the enemy by throwing bombs until a

barricade had been erected. Frequently, he ran back to his own trench

for a fresh supply of bombs. Thanks to his gallantry and coolness the

lost portion of a British trench was recovered. On his return to his

native village the people of North Tipperary gave him a great reception,

and presented him with an illuminated address and war stock to the value

of £240.

[Footnote 48: Refer to map on p. 168.]

[Footnote 49: Quinn's Post lay at the head of Shrapnel Valley, the

Valley of Death referred to on page 273. Pope's Hill lay to the left

front of Quinn's Post, and Courtney's Post was on the right of Quinn's

Post.]

CHAPTER XXXVII.

A SPLENDID FAILURE.

In his dispatch of 6th January 1916 Sir Ian Hamilton tells us that early

in July 1915 he was fully aware that the Kilid Bahr plateau could not be

reached from the south. Even if he could capture Krithia, which had so

far defied him, he could make no further headway towards his goal. The

Turks had made new and very strong works on the slopes of Achi Baba, and

these works were so planned that, even if the enemy's western flank

could be turned and he could be driven back from the coast, the central

and eastern portions of the mountain could still be held as a bastion to

the plateau. After considering every possible means of forcing a way to

the Narrows, he decided to make an advance through the Anzac territory

and the country to the north of it.

For three months Anzac had been an area of little more than a square

mile of cliff top on the edge of the sea. Its defences consisted of a

series of outposts, and these could only be reached by means of a deep

ravine, Shrapnel Valley, or "the Valley of Death," as it was called,

because it was enfiladed by Turkish fire, and a man took his life in his

hand every time he attempted to pass through it. You have already heard

of some of these outposts. Quinn's Post was named after Major Quinn, who

died in defence of it during a desperate Turkish attack on 28th May.

Courtney's Post, which was the scene of Corporal Jacka's famous exploit,

was named after the Colonel who held it against terrible odds for seven

weeks. Pope's Hill received its name from Colonel Pope of West

Australia--Pope with the Pipe, as his men dubbed him, because on one

occasion, when he was climbing the side of the hill, he just escaped a

Turkish trap by leaping down thirty feet on to a soft spit of sand,

where he landed safely, pipe and all. The path to the post of Pope's

Hill was so steep that the men had to help themselves up by means of a

rope.

Sir Ian Hamilton now determined to make a new landing on Suvla Bay,

which lies to the north of the Anzac region. Look at the diagram on page

278 and make out the chief features of the neighbourhood. You notice

that the bay, which is about two miles wide, is like the crescent moon

in shape, with capes forming the horns. Along the edge of the bay runs a

narrow causeway of sand, and behind it is a salt lake, dry in summer,

but overflowing in winter. Lining the coast north-eastwards from Cape

Suvla is the ridge of Karakol Dagh, over 400 feet high. Between the

southern end of the lake and the promontory which shuts in the bay on

the south side is the low hill of Lala Baba, and about one and a half

miles to the east of it is another elevation, afterwards called by our

men Chocolate Hill, because it was burnt brown by the shells which burst

upon it.

[Illustration: The "Anzac" Front.

The water-courses shown on the map are mostly dry in summer.]

Find on the map (page 275) Azmak Dere, a ravine which lies to the south

of Chocolate Hill. From this ravine northwards stretches a series of

hills and flats on which there are farms and patches of dwarf oaks, and,

on the seaward fall of the hills, thick scrub. Everywhere the plain is

cracked by water-courses, which are simply deep, dry gullies in summer.

Just north of the upper course of the Azmak Dere is one of the two

Anafarta villages; the other stands two miles farther north. Between the

south village and the foothills of the Karakol Dagh lie the Anafarta

Hills.

At the points marked A, B, and C on the diagram (page 278), Sir Ian

Hamilton proposed to make new landings; but, as a matter of fact, his

troops were put ashore only at B and C. They were to try to carry the

Anafarta Hills, and their right was to link up with the left of the

Anzacs, who would advance at the same time. If this were done, the

central crest of the spine of uplands which runs through the western end

of the peninsula would be in our hands. We should then be able to

command the one land route to Maidos on the Narrows; the communications

of the Turks would be cut, Achi Baba would fall, and in due course we

should reach the plateau on which all our hopes were centred. Such was

the plan. It was a bold plan, and it had a very fair chance of

succeeding.

Of course, if the Turks got wind of what we proposed to do they would

make preparations to resist us, and the conditions in the south of the

peninsula would be repeated. The landing on Suvla Bay was to be a

surprise. We knew that the Turks had made no preparations in this

region, and we hoped to take them unawares. If the landing could be made

speedily, if the troops could push forward without delay, and if they

and the Anzacs, working together, could join hands and gain the crest of

the spine of uplands, all would be well; but if there were delays, if

any of the various columns were not up to time, or failed to do the work

assigned to them, the whole movement would end in failure.

[Illustration: Suvla Bay and the Neighbourhood.

_By permission of The Sphere._

The landing took place on August 6-7, 1915. A beach where a landing was

attempted was later abandoned, and the troops were put ashore at B and

C. Notice the causeway across the Salt Lake, Lala Baba, Chocolate Hill,

and Lone Pine Plateau to the south-east of Shrapnel Valley.]

Before the great venture began Sir Ian Hamilton had to throw the enemy

off the scent. It would never do to let him know where the new landing

was to be made. At all costs he must be surprised. So on 6th August a

general attack was made on the Turkish position at Achi Baba. This was

done to make the enemy believe that we still hoped to carry the ridge

from the south. In the early afternoon, after the guns had prepared the

way, the 88th Brigade advanced across open ground against a part of the

enemy's front, which so far we had been unable to win. The attack was

boldly made, but our men were held up, and suffered heavy losses. East

of the Krithia road the Lancashire Territorials fared better, and gained

200 yards. Next morning the Turks, with heavy reinforcements, began

their counter-attacks, and fighting raged for two days round a vineyard

west of the Krithia road, where, as you will learn later, Lieutenant

Forshaw of the 1/9th Manchesters won the Victoria Cross. All this

fighting, you must remember, was for the purpose of making the Turks

believe that we were going to "carry on" in the old way.

Now we must turn to the Anzac territory, which, as we know, was to be

the scene of a great effort. On the nights of the 4th, 5th, and 6th

August reinforcements were slipped into Anzac very silently during the

darkest hours, and were tucked away in prepared hiding-places, quite

invisible to the aeroplanes or the telescopes of the Turks. Probably

never before have so many men been landed under the very eyes of the

enemy, and kept concealed for three days without being discovered.

On the afternoon of the 6th, while the fighting was in progress round

Krithia, a frontal attack was made on the Lone Pine plateau.[50] It was

a feint to cover the advance of a division which was to move up the

coast and work up three ravines in order to assault Koja Chemen,[51] the

commanding summit of the Sari Bair. As soon as the bombardment ceased

the Australians--every man with a white band on his sleeve--leaped

forward with that magnificent dash which has given them a leading place

amongst the finest soldiers of the world, and flung themselves on the

deep and roofed-in trenches at Lone Pine, which you see to the

south-east of Shrapnel Valley. After a deadly struggle in the dim

galleries they won the whole position. It was a magnificent feat of

arms, and Sir Ian Hamilton thus sums it up: "One weak Australian

brigade, numbering at the outset but 2,000 rifles, and supported only by

two weak battalions, carried the work under the eyes of a whole enemy

division, and maintained their grip upon it like a vice during six days

of counter-attacks. . . . After the first violence of the

counter-attacks had abated, 1,100 corpses--our own and Turkish--were

dragged out of the trenches." Seven Victoria Crosses were awarded to the

victors of Lone Pine.

Meanwhile the columns on the left had occupied the ridge named Bauchop's

Hill, and had climbed and seized Big Table Top, a mushroom-shaped

mountain with such steep sides that it was believed no infantry could

scale them. "But just as faith moves mountains, so valour can carry

them." The heights were scaled, and the plateau was carried by midnight.

The attacks were made with bayonet and bomb only; hardly a rifle shot

was fired. Meanwhile the ridge which you see just south of Azmak Dere

had also been captured, and the whole left rear of the Anzac position

had been safeguarded. The grand attack on Koja Chemen could now proceed.

I must break off my story for a moment to tell you that, at dawn on the

7th, the 3rd Australian Light Horse and the 1st Light Horse Brigade

pushed forward against the Turkish trenches in their front. These

magnificent troopers, men of great physical strength and of the highest

courage, advanced only to be mown down. Line after line of them left

their parapets, but were met by a storm of fire which no mortal could

face and live. For a few moments the flag of the Light Horse fluttered

from a corner of the Turkish position. Soon, however, it disappeared,

and of the 750 men who attacked that morning only about 100 returned.

The sacrifice, however, was not in vain. The Turks in this part of the

line were penned to their trenches while the great attack which I am now

about to describe went forward.

If you look at the map on page 275, you will see that, in order to get

from Big Table Top to Koja Chemen, our troops had to cross Rhododendron

Ridge. All night the left column struggled up the two "deres" which you

see to the east of Bauchop's Hill, and by a quarter to six in the

morning it was on the lower slopes of Rhododendron Ridge. It then moved

up the hill, and gained touch by means of the 10th Gurkhas with a column

on the right, which had worked up the ravines between Rhododendron Ridge

and Chunuk Bair in the face of very heavy fire and by means of frequent

bayonet charges. Before nightfall our men were entrenched on the top of

Rhododendron Ridge, "_a quarter of a mile short of Chunuk Bair--that is,

of victory_!"

Now for the last push. The attack on Koja Chemen was timed to begin at

4.15 on the morning of the 8th. The right column was to climb up the

Chunuk Bair ridge, while the left was to make for the ridge directly

south-east of Koja Chemen. "At the first faint glimmer of dawn observers

saw figures moving against the sky-line of Chunuk Bair. Were they our

own men, or were they the Turks? Telescopes were anxiously adjusted; the

light grew stronger; men were seen climbing up from our side of the

ridge; they _were_ our own fellows--the topmost summit was ours!" Yes,

it was true--New Zealanders and Maoris had fixed themselves firmly on

the main knoll of Chunuk Bair, and victory was in sight. The position,

however, had not been won without great losses. The 7th Gloucesters, for

example, lost every single officer; yet they fought on from midday to

sunset, commanded only by corporals and privates.

Next morning, the 9th, the attack was renewed by three columns. The

whole of Chunuk Bair was to be gained, and while No. 1 column held the

ground, Nos. 2 and 3 columns were to carry Hill Q. It was a day of

pitiless heat, and the men suffered torments of thirst. The 6th Gurkhas

of the second column scaled the summit of the ridge between Chunuk Bair

and Hill Q, and for half an hour looked down upon the gleaming waters of

the straits. Not only did they and some of the 6th South Lancashires

reach the crest, but they began to attack down the far side of it,

firing as they went at the fast-retreating enemy. But at this supreme

moment, when the last obstacle had been passed and the Promised Land was

in sight, the fortune of war deserted us. No. 3 column should by this

time have been sweeping out towards Hill Q along the whole ridge of the

mountain, but it was nowhere to be seen. It had lost its way in the

darkness. There was no support for the men on the summit, who were now

suddenly assailed by a salvo of heavy shells. The Gurkhas and South

Lancashires were forced back from the crest and on to the lower slopes

from which they had started. When at last No. 3 column appeared, the

Turks had come up in overwhelming numbers, and all hope of regaining the

summit had vanished.

That evening our line ran along Rhododendron Ridge up to the crest of

Chunuk Bair, where some 800 New Zealanders and Maoris were holding about

two hundred yards of shallow trenches unprotected by wire. During the

night of the 9th-10th these troops were relieved, after they had been

fighting without pause for three days and three nights. Two battalions

of the New Army took the place of these devoted men, who were now half

dead with fatigue. Early on the morning of the 10th the Turks made a

furious attack upon them. They came on again and again, calling upon the

name of God, determined to drive our men into the sea. Desperate

fighting followed. The men of the New Army were simply overwhelmed by

sheer weight of numbers, and were driven from the crest. At the foot of

the hill they were rallied, and plunged into a deadly fray in which

"generals fought in the ranks, and men caught each other by the throat.

. . . Our men stood to it, and maintained, by many a deed of daring, the

old traditions of their race. There was no flinching. _They died in the

ranks where they stood._"

But where were the men from Suvla? Where were they at this supreme

crisis, when they were so desperately needed? The New Zealanders on the

crest of Chunuk Bair had seen them landing, but had lost sight of them.

What had happened? Something must have gone seriously wrong.

* * * * *

The landing at Suvla Bay was made on the night of 6th August, under very

favourable conditions. The moon did not rise until 2 a.m., and by this

time our men were ashore. Except for a little rifle fire, they were

quite unopposed. As you know, the Turks had their hands full elsewhere,

and had no inkling of what was afoot. The men who landed at the points B

and C carried Lala Baba with the bayonet during the night, and also an

outpost to the north of the Salt Lake. By the time the moon rose two

divisions were ashore, and were holding a line east of the lake running

from Karakol Dagh to near Chocolate Hill. So far everything had gone

well; but then came a fatal delay. It was essential that we should push

on if we were to surprise the Turks, but no attempt was made to

proceed. The men, most of whom had never been in action before, were

very weary, and were tormented by thirst. The transports, containing

water, stores, mules, and carts, were still sixty miles away, and no

doubt the general in command of the expedition hesitated to send men

forward in an arid land without a proper water supply. Further, he had

but little artillery. Late that night the right carried Chocolate Hill.

The New Zealanders, as you know, were now struggling to maintain their

foothold on Chunuk Bair, and every moment was priceless. Unhappily, the

general at Suvla Bay does not seem to have realized that the whole

success of the movement depended on pushing his men forward at all

costs. By this time Sir Ian Hamilton had arrived. He tried to persuade

the general to advance, but in vain. By the morning of Monday, 9th

August, our chance of success had almost vanished. Ever-growing numbers

of the enemy had come up, and no surprise was now possible.

On the morning of the 9th a gallant endeavour was made to carry the main

Anafarta ridge; but though the crest was won, the effort was too late.

The Turks had now arrived in full force. About midday they fired the

scrub on the hills, and the flames which were swept across our front by

the wind drove us back. Nothing more of importance was done that day,

and next morning our chance of succeeding had gone for ever.

During the next ten days we tried to push forward, and the famous 29th

Division was brought up; but even it could not snatch victory out of

defeat. On 21st August repeated but unavailing efforts were made to

carry a hill to the north and another to the south of Chocolate Hill.

About five o'clock the mounted division, which had been held in reserve

below Lala Baba, made a splendid advance. For two miles the gallant

yeomen moved forward as if on parade through country where there was not

enough cover to conceal a mouse, and amidst a rain of Turkish shrapnel.

These men, from Bucks, Berks, and Dorset, charged the hill to the south

of Chocolate Hill and leaped into the Turkish trenches. The Turks,

however, on a higher hill brought machine guns to bear on them, and by

daylight they were forced back to their old lines.

The same day the Anzacs, under their famous leader, General Birdwood,

brilliantly carried one side of the topmost knoll of Hill 60, which you

see by the side of the upper course of Azma Dere, the southern fork of

Azmak Dere.[52] After desperate hand-to-hand fighting, nine-tenths of

the summit was won. Some 250 men of the 5th Connaught Rangers

distinguished themselves that day by a superb charge, and finally the

whole hill passed into our hands. With this success our efforts to make

headway on the peninsula practically came to an end.

"Thus was a likely plan turned into a tragedy of missed opportunity." We

failed for the same reason that we failed in the whole campaign--we were

"too late," and we gave time for strong forces of the enemy to take up

positions of such strength that all the valour of our men could not

carry them. The whole enterprise was wrecked when our troops were held

in check for a whole day on the flats of Suvla Bay.

* * * * *

"Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history," on 11th

October Sir Ian Hamilton was asked to say what he supposed would be the

extent of our losses if we tried to get off the peninsula. He cabled

back that he could not even think of such a thing. On the 16th he was

recalled, and another general, Sir Charles Monro, who had already

advised that we should withdraw from Gallipoli, was appointed in his

place. The task of the new general was to carry out the delicate and

difficult operation of withdrawal. During the next two months he was

busily engaged in making his preparations.

Of course, it was all-important that the Turks should be kept in

ignorance of what we proposed to do. Our losses in getting on to the

peninsula were very heavy, but they would be as nothing compared with

those which we might suffer in getting off should the Turks be enabled

to attack us while men, guns, horses, and stores were being transferred

to the ships. Some generals gloomily told us that we should lose half,

or at least one-third, of our troops in the process. We therefore made

no sign, but carried on as though we had no thought of leaving the

peninsula at all.

Local fighting still went on; mines were laid and exploded, and a trench

warfare similar to that in North France and Flanders was in full swing.

The storms of November broke over our men, and torrents roared down the

gullies. Sickness was rife, but still "carry on" was the order of the

day. On 21st December Lord Kitchener visited Anzac, and satisfied

himself that the men could be withdrawn without undue loss. The hour of

departure was drawing very near.

Everything depended on the weather. The small boats in which the troops

were to be conveyed to the transports could not work in a rough sea, nor

could the guns and animals be got off during storms. Happily, when the

work of withdrawal began on 29th December a spell of light wind and

smooth seas set in.

Before the men could depart the Turks had to be attacked, so as to keep

them at a distance. On 29th December a British division advanced against

the enemy with as much dash as if the campaign was only beginning, and

next day the Turkish lines were fiercely bombarded. Meanwhile the first

troops had got away. All sorts of ruses were invented to deceive the

Turks. It is said, for example, that while 2,000 men were silently

embarked at night, 500 were landed with great show the next morning, in

order to make the Turks believe that we were actually being reinforced.

For weeks guides were trained to bring down companies of men from the

trenches to the beaches during the night, and so well was everything

planned that every man, every animal, and every gun, with the exception

of six, was safely embarked. The landing was a feat; the departure was a

miracle.

[Illustration: The Turkish Attack on our Troops at the foot of Chunuk

Bair.

_By permission of The Sphere._

The Turks "came on again and again, calling upon the name of God,

determined to drive our men into the sea. . . . Our men stood to it, and

maintained by many a deed of daring the old traditions of their race.

There was no flinching. They died in the ranks where they stood." (See

page 280.)]

A correspondent tells us that the Anzacs came down the hillside with

steady, slouching gait. Except for the moonlight shimmering on the Salt

Lake and the smooth waters of the bay, and the fires burning in the

deserted camps, all was dark. Suddenly, four great fires sprang up,

leaped into flames, and grew into one mighty bonfire. The deserted

stores of the Anzacs were blazing furiously. Then, as a finale, a giant

mine was exploded by electricity under the Turkish trenches. It was the

Australians' "Good-bye" to the Turks. An Anzac corporal thus described

the departure:--

"On the last night we kept up the usual firing, until finally

there were only sixty men from each battalion scattered along

the firing-line, and through a ruse--due to the inventive

faculties of Corporal Scurry, of our battalion--these last men

were able to get away.

"Scurry invented an apparatus by fixing a kerosene can full of

water, which was allowed to drip into a large jam tin. This

latter was tied on to the trigger of a rifle fully cocked and in

position on the parapet. When a sufficient amount of water was

in the jam tin off went the gun.

"Hundreds of these were fixed all along the line, timed to go

off at different intervals, so that the usual firing was kept up

for two hours after the last man had left the trenches.

"Some ruse--eh, what?"

"I hope, sir," said a New Zealander to his officer, as he crept down

Shrapnel Gully for the last time, "that those fellows who lie buried

along the 'Dere' will be soundly sleeping and not hear us as we march

away." Many of his comrades, however, put aside such sad thoughts.

As the last transport steamed away early on the morning of 9th January

1916, the enemy's guns began to pour shells on our deserted trenches and

on our burning beaches. A day or two later the Turks announced that they

had driven the British into the sea. Constantinople blazed with

illuminations, and Germany broke forth into loud rejoicings. So ended

the ill-starred adventure. For more than nine months we had fought not

only the Turks and the Germans in their strongholds, but disease and

thirst, the droughts of summer, and the blizzards of winter. We had been

foiled, and the British Empire was the poorer by the loss of tens of

thousands of bright and gallant lives; yet there was no murmuring. The

nation set its teeth and turned to the next task. It recognized that

there must be failures in every great war, and that one set-back does

not spell defeat.

* * * * *

The following officers and men were awarded the Victoria Cross during

the fighting in Gallipoli between 7th August and 22nd December 1915:

Lieutenant William Thomas Forshaw, 1/9th Battalion, Manchester Regiment,

Territorial Force.

On page 276 I mentioned the heavy fighting which took place from 17th to

19th August around a vineyard to the west of the Krithia road.

Lieutenant Forshaw and his detachment held the north-west angle of the

vineyard. The Turks advanced upon them time after time by way of three

trenches which all met at this point, but they could make no headway.

For forty-one hours Lieutenant Forshaw not only directed and encouraged

his men, but continued to fling bombs on the enemy. Eye-witnesses say

that he treated bomb-throwing as though it were snowballing, and that he

was happy all the time, though every moment he was in the direst peril.

When his detachment was relieved he volunteered to stay on and direct

operations. Three times during the night of 8th-9th August he was again

heavily attacked, and once the Turks got over his barricade; but after

shooting three of them with his revolver, he led his men forward and

drove the enemy out. When at last he rejoined his battalion he was

choked and sickened by bomb fumes, badly bruised by fragments of

shrapnel, and could scarcely lift his arm, which was stiff with

continuous bomb-throwing. Thanks to his inspiring example and splendid

tenacity, an important position was held. Before joining the army he was

a teacher in a Manchester Secondary school.

[Illustration: How Lieutenant Forshaw won the V.C.

(_From the picture by Philip Dodd. By permission of The Sphere._)]

Private Leonard Keysor, Private John Hamilton, Captain Alfred John

Stout, 1st Battalion, Australian Imperial Force; Lieutenant W. J.

Symons, Lieutenant F. H. Tubb, Corporal Alexander Stewart Burton,

Corporal William Dunstan, 7th Battalion, Australian Imperial Force.

The seven gallant men whose names appear above were the outstanding

heroes of the Lone Pine plateau. (See pages 276-7.) It is impossible to

describe the fearless gallantry with which they charged and captured the

roofed-in trenches of the enemy and beat off countless attacks. Keysor

did miracles of bombing, and frequently caught live grenades as they

fell into his trench and flung them back on the enemy. During the fierce

encounters Corporal Burton was killed and Lieutenant Tubb was wounded.

Corporal C. R. G. Bassett, New Zealand Divisional Signal Company.

You will remember how the New Zealanders, on 7th August, won the Chunuk

Bair ridge and came within an ace of victory. While they struggled to

maintain themselves against fierce and constant counter-attacks,

Corporal Bassett in full daylight and under a heavy fire laid a

telephone wire from the old position to the new one. More than once

afterwards he repeated the same exploit.

Captain Percy Howard Hansen, 8/4 Battalion, the Lincolnshire Regiment.

On the 9th August the Lincolnshires captured the "Green Knoll" on

Chocolate Hill (see page 281); but when the enemy set the scrub on fire

they were forced to retire, leaving wounded behind them. Captain Hansen,

with three or four volunteers, dashed forward several times into the

burning scrub under a terrible fire, and rescued six of his wounded

comrades.

Private Alfred Potts, 1/1 Berkshire Yeomanry, T.F.

On page 281 I told you how the Bucks, Berks, and Dorset Yeomanry made a

heroic advance on 21st August. In the course of that attack Private

Potts was wounded in the thigh, but not entirely disabled. He might have

returned to his trench in safety; but he preferred to remain with a

comrade who had been stricken down and was unable to move. For

forty-eight hours he lay by his friend, and then fixed a shovel to the

man's equipment, and, using it as a sledge, dragged the poor fellow back

over 600 yards to his own lines, which he reached about half-past nine

on the evening of 23rd August.

Second Lieutenant H. V. H. Throssell, 10th Light Horse Regiment,

Australian Imperial Force.

This gallant officer held the end of a trench on Hill 60 (29th and 30th

August) practically by himself. He killed six or seven Turks with his

rifle, and was hit several times; but he refused to leave his post, and

went on fighting until late in the evening, when the doctor ordered him

out of the trenches. A comrade said, "I can see him now, the very best

type of the best Australian manhood. . . . The man I want to follow, the

man to lead me in a big fight--that is Throssell, V.C."

Second Lieutenant A. V. Smith, 1/5 Battalion East Lancashire Regiment,

Territorial Force.

On 22nd December, during the trench fighting that preceded our

withdrawal from Gallipoli, Lieutenant Smith, when in the act of throwing

a lighted bomb, slipped on the wet ground and fell. The bomb dropped

into the trench. He immediately shouted a warning to his men and jumped

clear into safety; but seeing that his comrades were unable to get away,

and knowing that the explosion of the bomb would kill many of them, he

ran back, and without a moment's hesitation flung himself upon the

bursting grenade. It exploded, and he was instantly killed; but he died

knowing full well that by the sacrifice of himself he had saved the

lives of many of his friends. Lieutenant Smith might have saved himself;

he preferred to follow the Divine example and die for the salvation of

others.

[Footnote 50: See diagram, p. 278.]

[Footnote 51: See map, p. 275.]

[Footnote 52: See map, p. 275.]

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE STORM BURSTS.

In the basin of the great American river Mississippi one may go forth on

a spring morning with the sun brightly shining and a blue sky overhead,

yet within a single hour all may be terribly changed. The wind suddenly

begins to roar, and in a few minutes a storm bursts in awful fury. Whole

forests are laid low; houses, villages, and towns are swept into ruin;

men, women, and children lie dead beneath the stone and timber that

sheltered them; the pride and labour of years are destroyed in a moment,

and terror and desolation stalk the land. The terrible blast sweeps on,

but gradually abates its ruthless might, and by nightfall all is calm

again. The stars gleam brightly from the storm-swept sky, and the moon

shines with a message of cheer to the survivors, who with the morning

light begin to repair the ravages which they have suffered, and to go

about their business once more, inspired by that hope which "springs

eternal in the human breast."

[Illustration: The Tornado of Fire which beat down upon the Russian

Trenches on May 1, 1915.

(_By permission of The Illustrated London News._)]

Somewhat thus may we picture the Eastern arena of battle during the year

1915. A mighty tornado suddenly burst upon the Russian armies, and the

whole aspect of the war was changed. The smiling sky of early April was

a fierce rack of roaring thunder clouds by the middle of May. The onward

sweep of the whirlwind could not be resisted; the Russians reeled

beneath the shock; hundreds of thousands of their soldiers were swept

into eternity, and for months hopeless ruin stared the survivors in the

face. They recoiled before the terrible blast, and fell back into the

vastnesses of their land, leaving behind them all the gains of nine

months' hard battling. Whole provinces were yielded; great cities fell

into the hands of their foes, yet with sublime resolution they still

plodded eastwards until the fury of the storm began to abate. By this

time they had knitted up their strength anew, and were strong enough not

merely to resist the failing onset, but to make headway against it. And

so it came about that the dire gloom of early summer brightened into new

hope by autumn, and Russia's foes, though they had reft from her

enormous tracts of territory, knew in their hearts that they had failed.

They had aimed at utterly destroying their enemy, but they had done

nothing of the kind, and the new territory which they had won was likely

to become a Pandora's[53] chest of troubles. By the end of the year they

were strung out on a line of nine hundred miles, across the marshes and

plains of Russia.

* * * * *

On page 125 of this volume I told you that with the fall of Przemysl on

22nd March the Allies were full of hope that before the close of the

summer Cracow would fall, Silesia would be entered, the Russians would

be sweeping through Hungary, and the end of the war would be in sight.

But at the very moment when they were cherishing these rosy hopes, there

was much weakness in the Russian armies. They were holding far too long

a line for the number of men and guns which they could put into the

field; their forces were not joined up, but were divided by gaps, and

they had not sufficient railway lines to enable them to move troops and

supplies to any point which might be threatened.

Their greatest weakness, however, was their shortage of artillery,

machine guns, rifles, and ammunition. They had multitudes of men, but

they could not arm them properly. Large numbers of their recruits were

without rifles, and had to wait in the trenches, often under heavy fire,

until they could take up the arms and ammunition of the wounded. This

grave shortage of munitions was guessed at the time, but the truth was

only fully known in February 1916, when the Russian Minister of War

lifted the veil. He told us that prior to the outbreak of hostilities

the Russians had relied on Germany for most of their war material, and

for all the chemicals which enabled them to manufacture high-explosive

shells. The consequence was that when the German supply was cut off, the

Russians had to build munition factories, and make the necessary

chemicals for themselves. It is more than likely, too, that there was

serious wrongdoing in high quarters, for in March 1916 the general who

was Minister of War in the early months of 1915 was brought to trial.

For these reasons the Russians could not for a considerable time

properly munition their armies, and this led to the great misfortune

which I am about to describe.

Despite their weaknesses, the Russians were too near success for the

German High Command to feel comfortable. The Russian armies in Galicia

were only fifty miles from Cracow; they had won fifty miles or more of

the Carpathian watershed, and in some places they commanded the southern

ends of the passes. Unless they were checked, and checked speedily, they

would sweep down upon the great granary of Hungary, and Germany would

lose her greatest source of wheat supplies. There was no time to be

lost. A gigantic effort must begin immediately, and the Russians must be

cleared out of Galicia altogether.

Preparations were at once made with the utmost secrecy and dispatch, and

before the Russians had more than an inkling of what was on foot,

Germany was ready to strike. Never before in the history of the world

have so many guns and men been so silently and swiftly brought up to an

enemy's front. The secret was wonderfully kept. Train after train

heavily laden with hundreds of big guns and three-quarters of all the

shells that had been made in the busy munition factories of Germany

during the winter was hurried to Galicia, and soon the new depots

erected near the Donajetz were full to overflowing. Then followed many

pontoons and much bridging material, for many rivers would have to be

crossed on the line of the proposed advance. New hospital stations were

established, a network of telegraph lines was erected, and great herds

of cattle for feeding the armies were penned behind the German lines.

Then, with the same speed and secrecy, masses of troops were hurried

into Galicia, and before long there were two millions of men between

Bukovina and Cracow. Not until everything was ready did Dmitrieff

discover his danger.

The plan of campaign was as follows. Von Mackensen was to be provided

with not less than 1,500 guns and ten army corps, and with these he was

to batter his way through the Russian lines. He meant to overwhelm the

Russian trenches by means of a hurricane of artillery fire, and then

thrust forward his men in close order, wave after wave, and drive the

broken and dazed enemy before him. He was going to do what we had done

at Neuve Chapelle, but he had far better prospects of success, for the

Russians had neglected to prepare second and third lines of defence, and

they were woefully deficient in artillery, rifles, and ammunition. Once

he could get the Russians on the run he might envelop and utterly

destroy them. At any rate, he would hurl them back to the river San.

[Illustration: The Russian Retreat from the Donajetz to the San.]

This map shows you the Russian line on 28th April. By this time

Dmitrieff was aware that a mighty force of Germans was in front of him.

He sent an urgent message to Ivanov, begging for two corps as

reinforcements; but by some mistake the message never reached

headquarters, and he was forced to meet the terrible thrust of the enemy

with only his winter strength.

Von Mackensen began the action by an advance on Gorlice, and Dmitrieff

was forced to weaken his centre in order to strengthen his left wing.

Meanwhile the real attack was beginning farther north. Midway between

Gorlice and Tarnow you will see a break on the Russian front. It was

against this point that von Mackensen made his great effort. On the

morning of 1st May hundreds of his big guns began to roar, and soon

shells were falling fast and thick on the Russian trenches. It is said

that no less than 700,000 shells were hurled against the Russian

positions on that day. Nothing could live in the whirlwind of death, and

speedily the Russian trenches were wiped out, and thousands of Russians

with them.

Meanwhile pontoons were pushed across the river, and as soon as the

bombardment ceased wave after wave of Germans in close order surged

forward. By the next day they had broken through the Russian line, and

the whole of the front was turned. There was nothing for it but swift

retreat. Nor were the Russians able to make a stand until they were

twenty miles from the position which they had occupied all winter.

On the little river Wisloka they halted, and turned their faces to the

foe. The line of the river gave them but a poor defence; but it was

necessary that they should hold back the enemy if Brussilov's army,

which lay along the foothills of the Carpathians, was to escape. By this

time the famous Caucasian corps had been hurried up to stem the German

torrent. These devoted men, though they had no heavy guns, defied the

terrible artillery fire of the enemy, and at length managed to get to

grips with him. They fought with supreme valour; they captured one of

the German batteries, took 7,000 prisoners, and slew many thousands

more. Not until they had lost 10,000 men did they perceive that no human

valour could avail against Mackensen's merciless guns. For five

priceless days they held out, and then were forced to retreat towards

the little river Wistok.

Soon the retreat became something like a rout, and Brussilov's army was

in deadly peril. For a moment it looked as if von Mackensen was about to

roll up the two halves of Dmitrieff's army and achieve another Sedan.

But the Russians managed to push out strong forces towards Sanok and

check the advancing enemy. The five days' stand on the Wisloka and this

new movement enabled Brussilov, after much desperate fighting, to

withdraw his troops from the foothills, and to retreat eastwards. Many

of his men who were south of the Dukla and Lupkow Passes were cut off

and made prisoners.

This check enabled the Russian armies to withdraw towards the San and

take up the position shown upon the map (page 293). There was now no

fear of a rout, and they reached the new position in perfect order. So

far all von Mackensen's efforts to roll them up had failed. He had won

a great victory, it is true; in a fortnight he had pushed back Dmitrieff

some eighty-five miles, and had taken large numbers of prisoners and

much war material. He had loosed upon the Russians such a storm of fire

as had never been known before in the history of the world, and, blasted

and scorched, they had fallen back hurriedly with overwhelming numbers

hard on their heels. They had suffered awful losses, but they had not

been destroyed. Most armies under such terrible punishment would have

broken into flying fragments, but the Russians showed all the dourness

and fortitude of their race and managed to hold together. Their

rearguards freely sacrificed themselves, that the army might make good

its escape. It was unbroken and undefeated at the Wistok, and the latter

part of its retreat to the San was slow and orderly. The German victory

was thus matched by an equally great Russian achievement. On 12th May

the Russian army, after passing through an agony that seemed to promise

its total destruction, lay along the San with its face still to the foe.

While the Russians were retreating from the Wistok to the San, the Grand

Duke Nicholas and his staff looked the facts fairly in the face. They

knew that they were hopelessly outclassed by the Germans both in guns

and in number of men, and it was idle to suppose that they could resist

von Mackensen's terrible thunderstorm of shell until they were equally

well supplied. If they gave battle to the foe they would be utterly

wiped out. As a Russian soldier put it, "We have only one weapon, the

living breast of the soldier." The Grand Duke finally decided to

retreat, not for leagues, but for hundreds of miles. He would draw the

Germans on and on until he led them into the very heart of Russia if

need be. As the Germans followed him eastwards they would leave the

railways behind them and be forced to move their monster guns and heavy

loads of shell over country without railways and without good roads.

Thousands of square miles of territory would have to be given up to the

invader, but as he pushed eastward his strength would grow less and

less, and the time would be gained for Russia to supply herself with the

guns and munitions which she so sorely lacked. Then, at last, her hour

would strike. She would be able to turn and rend the weakened foe.

[Illustration: A Night Scene before the City of Warsaw. An Engagement in

Front of the doomed Capital.

(_From the picture by Frédéric de Haenen. By permission of The

Illustrated London News._)

"Night fighting," says a correspondent, "is one of the splendid

spectacles of war. Flashing batteries, wavering lines of musketry and

machine-gun fire, make a picture painted in silver and gold on a

background of black. The moon shines behind the gray clouds, shedding a

soft radiance just strong enough to shape the shadows. On the western

horizon flash after flash springs out of the darkness; these are the

distant German guns. Nearer to us the Russian batteries are firing, each

piece cutting a red flash of flame into the darkness before its muzzle.

Suddenly a blazing rocket shoots up into the heavens and bursts into a

shower of silver stars. As they fall slowly, the country beneath is

lighted in high relief. A long arm of searchlight shoots across the

heavens. A line of sparks reveals a battalion of the advancing enemy."]

Such was the Grand Duke's plan. He knew full well all that it involved.

Przemysl and Lemberg, at whose capture joy bells had rung throughout

all Russia, would have to be left behind. The great city of Warsaw,

which had thrice defied von Hindenburg, must be abandoned. The line of

the Vistula must be allowed to fall into German hands, and probably the

German flag would wave above the great Polish fortresses; but if the

armies could be saved, all might yet be well.

In our first volume (page 64) I told you how Napoleon, the greatest war

lord that Europe has ever known, marched a great army into Russia in the

year 1812, and by so doing rang his death knell. The Russians were now

about to repeat the tactics of 1812, and observers in the West

prophesied that the Kaiser would be led into the same trap and suffer

the same fate. But we must remember that the conditions had changed in

many respects since Napoleon's day. He failed chiefly because he could

not obtain sufficient supplies. The country through which he advanced

had been swept clear of everything but wood and water, and all the food

and munitions that his armies needed had to be sent forward by

horse-drawn wagons along tracks which frequently ended in morasses. When

these wagons failed to reach the troops, the men starved. Nowadays every

army is accompanied by engineers who can build roads and light railways

very quickly, and so keep the advancing army in touch with its bases.

For example, during the campaign which I am about to describe, a German

general boasted that his men, who then lay within a hundred miles of

Riga, were eating bread baked in Berlin the day before. He also said

that his engineers could construct fifty miles of asphalted road in two

days. Motor transport has largely superseded the horse, and long

distances, given fair roads, can be covered very quickly. Thus you see

that in our time Napoleon's great difficulty need not be fatal.

There was, however, much danger in pushing far "into the bowels of the

land." As the German lines of communication grew longer and longer,

supplies would take more and more time to reach the armies, and there

would be more and more chances that the line might be impeded or cut.

Thousands of men would have to be taken from the firing-line to hold the

railways and roads along which the convoys travelled, and thus the

attack would gradually lose force, and at last be unable to resist a

vigorous onset by the enemy.

* * * * *

Now we must return to the San, where the Russian armies were lying ready

to retreat when the word was given. From the map on page 293 you notice

that the Russian lines bulged out in front of Przemysl. Ivanov was

prepared to give up this fortress, but not until he had cleared it of

everything that might be useful to the enemy. In order to gain time he

fought a holding battle in the centre and struck hard on the flanks. On

the morning of 15th May his right began a three days' battle, in which

the Austrians were well beaten, and after losing 30,000 men had to fall

back. The enemy was caught in the open and the Russians plied the

bayonet with deadly effect. On the borders of Bukovina the Russian left

also had a success, and the enemy was driven back as much as thirty

miles. But in the centre, where Mackensen was advancing, a very

different state of things prevailed. The salient round Przemysl was

fiercely attacked in three places, and its sides were driven in until

the neck was less than ten miles across. Attacks were also made at two

places farther north. When the Russian line was pierced at these points,

the Austro-Germans were able to swing southwards towards the main

railway, and the days of Przemysl were numbered.

On 31st May the fortress fell, and at 3.30 on the morning of 2nd June

von Mackensen entered the city. The Russians had held it a little over

two months. The capture of Przemysl was a great feather in von

Mackensen's cap, but it was no great prize. He found it little more than

an empty shell. Guns, rolling stock, and supplies had been moved

eastwards, and only a little booty fell into his hands.

Why, you ask, did not von Mackensen push on more quickly and keep the

Russians on the run? You must remember that his great weapon consisted

of an enormous number of heavy guns which could only be moved slowly. As

soon as the great machine lumbered up, the Russians were bound to

retreat, but while it was slowly advancing to a new position, they were

able to hold back the enemy on the wings and send away eastward all the

valuable contents of the city. The great danger was always in the

centre, where von Mackensen was making his terrible thrust; on the wings

the Russians were able to delay the enemy.

The fall of Przemysl compelled the Russians to give ground once more,

and on 14th June their line ran as shown in the map on page 293. While

the retreat was proceeding, Brussilov scored a victory. When the German

right wing had pushed through the forests from Stryj, had crossed the

Dniester, and was travelling by bad country roads, Brussilov caught it

at a disadvantage. A three days' battle followed, in which the enemy was

flung back across the Dniester with heavy loss. Some 17 guns, 49 machine

guns, and more than 15,000 prisoners were captured, including a whole

company of the Prussian Guard. Successes on the wings, however, could

avail nothing while von Mackensen was blasting his way through the

centre.

A glance at the map shows you what a very strong position the Russians

held from Grodek southward. In front of the city for fifteen miles there

is a series of shallow, swampy lakes, with but few roads crossing the

dry ground between them. Farther south lies a great district of marshes.

The Russian lines behind the lakes and the marshes could not be forced,

but they would be turned if the Germans could break through to the north

of Grodek and force the line of the Dniester to the south of the city.

Von Mackensen now moved on a broad front towards Rava Russka, and as

soon as his great guns began their terrific onslaught on the Russian

lines, the fate of Lemberg was no longer in doubt. On 19th June he broke

through, and on the same day the German right wing crossed the Dniester.

Next day a fierce battle was fought for Rava Russka. Von Mackensen won

it, and then swung his forces southwards in the direction of Lemberg.

The Grodek position had been turned, and once more the Russians were

forced to retreat. The way to Lemberg was open, and on 22nd June the

Austrians entered the city. After nine months the capital of Galicia

passed once more into their hands. Vienna, Buda Pest, and scores of

other places in Austria-Hungary broke into loud rejoicing. Towns and

villages were bedecked with flags, and joyous peals rang out from every

belfry.

There was good reason why the Austrians should rejoice at the recovery

of Lemberg. They had not only regained the capital of Galicia, but they

were once more masters of a city that afforded them a splendid

jumping-off place for carrying the war into Russia. As you see by the

map, Lemberg is almost on the Russian frontier, and six lines of

railway meet in it. So long as the Austrians could hold on to Lemberg,

Galicia was safe. Its recapture was, therefore, a triumph for von

Mackensen; but though he had reconquered a province and its capital, he

had not brought the war any nearer to its end. He had neither shattered

the Russian armies nor split them in twain.

* * * * *

It is said that one day in June, just before the fall of Lemberg, the

Kaiser met von Hindenburg and his Chief of Staff, von Falkenhayn, in the

castle at Posen. The Kaiser was in high spirits, and he declared that

the moment had now arrived for the capture of Warsaw. He already saw

himself riding into the city at the head of his troops as the conqueror

and deliverer of Poland. The two generals gladly agreed with his

proposal. They believed that the Western front could be held without

much effort, and that with the mighty engine of artillery which they now

possessed they could batter through the Russian lines, and seize the

great city which had so long defied them.

After the fall of Lemberg, Warsaw formed the apex of a great salient. It

could only hold out so long as the two great railway lines which meet in

the city were in the hands of the Russians. The first of these routes

runs north-east through Grodno, Vilna, and Dvinsk to Petrograd. The

other line runs south-east through Ivangorod, Lublin, Cholm, and Rovno

to Kiev.[54] Von Mackensen was already pushing northwards towards this

southern line of railway, and the Russians were falling back before him.

It was now the business of von Hindenburg to advance from East Prussia

and capture the northern line. Once the railways were cut, Warsaw would

fall. Von Falkenhayn, however, hoped to do more than merely capture the

city and a few more thousand square miles of Polish ground. He hoped to

make an end of the Russian armies in the salient, and this he proposed

to do by carrying out a great enveloping movement. While von Mackensen

was pushing on towards the southern railway, he would make a fierce

thrust at the northern part of the same salient, in order to cut the

Petrograd line between Warsaw and Bialystok. But this was not the whole

of the plan. A German army under von Buelow had already overrun

Courland,[55] and was not far from Riga. While the two thrusts were

being made at the salient, this force was to hack its way south, seize

Kovno and Vilna, and cut the Petrograd line far to the eastward. The

Russians in the salient would thus be taken in flank and in rear; they

would be squeezed between the enemy on the north and the south, and

probably would be surrounded and forced to surrender. Russia would thus

be crippled for many a month to come, and then the might of Germany

could be flung against the Western front.

We will now follow the fortunes of the three great thrusts that were

about to be made--the thrust against the southern railway, the thrust

against the Petrograd railway between Warsaw and Grodno, and the thrust

against the same railway still farther east. Before the end of June five

German armies, with von Mackensen in the centre, were moving steadily

northwards to cut the southern railway line between Lublin and Kovel.

They had now left the railways of Galicia behind them, and were crossing

a country of forests, marshy plains, and bad roads. The great guns moved

slowly, but the armies met with little opposition, and by 2nd July they

were less than thirty miles from the railway.

Round about Krasnik they came into touch with the Russians, who held a

strong position, with marshes and streams on their flanks. The army of

the Archduke Joseph, to the left of von Mackensen, was heavily assailed,

and during four days of attack and counter-attack was driven back with

the loss of 15,000 prisoners, a very large number of machine guns, and

heavy casualties in dead and wounded. For a week the German advance was

checked. It began again on 16th July, when von Mackensen, who had

bridged the marshy streams, was able to get his big guns working. Once

more he blasted his way through, and on the 18th was within ten miles of

the railway.

Now let us see what was going on in the north. On 14th July von

Buelow's army in Courland began to push forward, and at the same time

another army attacked the Niemen front. The great thrust against the

Warsaw salient was entrusted to von Gallwitz, who now advanced against

the line of the Narev. He made good progress, and the Russians fell

back, fighting stubbornly. They retired across the Narev on the 20th,

and three days later von Gallwitz won several crossings of the river. By

means of one of these crossings he pushed forward until by 25th July,

though the river line had not yet been won on a broad front, he lay

within twenty miles of the Warsaw-Petrograd railway. Meanwhile the

German heavy guns were battering down the outworks of the river

fortresses, and the army of the Niemen was within sixty miles of Vilna.

The Warsaw salient was now in great peril. Spears had been planted

against its breast in three different directions. At the apex a

spearhead was but fifteen miles away; another was only ten miles from

the southern railway, and a third was but twenty miles from the northern

railway. The fortified line of the Narev had been broken through, and

the salient was doomed. Once more the Grand Duke had to make a decision

upon which hung the fate of the Russian armies. Should he try by means

of the great Polish triangle of fortresses--Novo Georgievsk, Ivangorod,

Brest Litovski--to hold the salient, or should he sacrifice Poland and

fall back to the east? The second course was by far the more difficult.

To withdraw his armies along the three railways left to him, while the

spearheads were closing in hour by hour, and any day two of the three

roads of escape might be lost, was a most perilous task. His wornout

troops would have to hold the sides of the salient for some weeks while

the main body retired. If the sides were forced in, it was more than

likely that his armies would be utterly overwhelmed. It seemed easier to

hold on to the fortresses, and hope that in some way or other the enemy

might be checked.

The Grand Duke refused to take any risks; he chose the more difficult

task. He determined to withdraw his armies from Poland altogether, and

fall back eastward and ever eastward, until his forces could be properly

fed with munitions and were ready to make a stand. It was a great

resolve, and few commanders would have dared to make it. Probably no

other army could have made such a retirement without losing heart

altogether, and hopelessly breaking down.

* * * * *

The last days of July saw strange scenes in Warsaw. The whole city was

stripped of everything that might be useful to the enemy. The great

factories were dismantled, and their plant sent eastward. Gold from the

banks, books and papers from the Government offices, relics and sacred

pictures from the churches, bells from the towers, copper from the

roofs, wire from the telegraph poles--all were piled on great wagons

which followed each other in a long procession across the Vistula

bridges. Half a million of the city's inhabitants streamed eastwards in

carts and in hackney carriages. Only the Poles and the poorest of the

Jews remained.

About 24th July the forces in front of Warsaw began to fall back into

the suburbs of the city. Meanwhile along the Narev a fierce holding

battle was being fought to enable the troops in the northern part of the

salient to get away. Five days later Mackensen cut the southern line

between Lublin and Cholm, and the sides of the triangle were fast

closing in. By this time all the stores and guns were safe, and the

troops in the centre were moving through the city. Every day German

aeroplanes dropped bombs in the streets, and soon, as the German shells

burst among the houses, great fires began to flame up in the western

suburbs. At three o'clock on the morning of Thursday, 5th August, three

loud explosions shook the city. The Vistula bridges had been blown up.

Three hours later German cavalry galloped in, and that evening Prince

Leopold of Bavaria with his suite rode through the streets on the way to

the palace. On the eastern horizon he saw the red glow which Napoleon

had seen--the flames rising from crops and villages which the Russians

had fired as they fell back before the invader.

The Kaiser made no state entry into Warsaw. His exultation, however,

appeared in the following telegram which he sent to his sister, the

Queen of Greece: "My destructive sword has crushed the Russians. They

will need six months to recover. In a short time I will announce new

victories won by my brave soldiers, who have shown themselves invincible

in battle against nearly the whole world. The war drama is now coming to

a close."

[Footnote 53: _Pan-do´ra._ In ancient Greek story, a goddess who

possessed a box containing every kind of ill; this was opened, and the

ills escaped and spread all over the earth, Hope alone being left at the

bottom of the box.]

[Footnote 54: For these railway lines, and other places mentioned in

this chapter, see map, p. 311.]

[Footnote 55: Or Kurland, Baltic province of Russia between the Gulf of

Riga on the north and the province of Kovno on the south. It has many

small, scattered lakes, and almost one-third of the surface is covered

with forest.]

CHAPTER XXXIX.

STORIES OF THE GREAT RETREAT.

A correspondent with the Russian armies tells us that no mind can

picture the awful effect of the German bombardment which drove the

Russians out of their positions on the Donajetz. Von Mackensen, as you

know, had 1,500 guns, and many of them were monster howitzers. It is

said that a thousand wagon-loads of shell were used in a single

day--that is, twice as many as would have sufficed, under ordinary

conditions, for the six months' siege of a great and well-provisioned

fortress. Ten shells, each weighing 800 lbs., were hurled on every yard

of the Russian front. An officer calculated that the part of the line

which he was holding received no less than 10,000 shells in the course

of a few hours. The wreckage was awful, and those who survived were

dazed and stupefied, and unable to resist.

[Illustration: Where the Cossacks score: a Cavalry Skirmish in the Rear

of the Russian Retreat.

(_By permission of The Graphic._)]

Another correspondent describes what he saw in Warsaw prior to the entry

of the Germans. Day and night, he tells us, one heard the muffled roar

as factory plant, too heavy or too deeply embedded in concrete to be

moved, was blown up. Every fragment of the metal was carried eastwards.

The newspapers made their last appearance with a notice that the city

was to be abandoned, after which the lino-types were uprooted and the

very floors carted away. Police and soldiers visited every printing

works and newspaper office, taking away founts of type and dismantling

presses. Hardly a ton of copper fittings was left in the city. . . .

Warsaw knew no sleep over that week end. Through the streets passed

endless columns of carts and lorries heavily laden, and all making for

the bridges across the Vistula. You could only distinguish a wagon

loaded with millions of roubles in paper money from those containing

sacks of potatoes, by the soldiers who sat swinging their legs over the

side. Day and night gangs of soldiers were seen stripping league after

league of copper telegraph wires from their poles. Church doors flung

open revealed the interiors filled with weeping, praying Poles and

Russians, amongst whom passed priests in their rich vestments. Aloft in

the towers the huge bronze bells had been unslung, lest they should

become food for Krupp's furnaces. Not only the bells, but all records

and church plate, precious vestments, and ikons,[56] were carted away

into the interior. In the Church of the Holy Cross there was a vault,

and in it lay the heart of Chopin.[57] The vault was opened, and the

precious relic was removed to Moscow. Wherever possible troops were sent

out to garner the crops in the surrounding country. Where this was

impossible the harvest was destroyed, and villages were burnt to the

ground. Thousands of poor were ferried across the Vistula to begin their

long tramp eastward.

* * * * *

It is said that after the fall of Warsaw the Kaiser was very much

annoyed that the Russian army had been allowed to escape. "We have paid

too dearly," he said to his generals, "for the privilege of walking

along the streets of Warsaw. Our success has been gained under such a

cloud of mourning that at present I cannot think of rewards. You are not

little children to be dazzled with a toy while the Russian troops are at

liberty. You have secured the cage, but the bird has flown. While the

Russian army is free the problem of the war is unsolved."

A Russian journalist tells us that when the Kaiser seized the cage

without the bird he began, like Jehu, to drive furiously in the hope of

rounding up the retreating enemy. His soldiers were driven

remorselessly. The advance guard was ordered not to beat the enemy but

to detain him until the arrival of the main body. The leading

detachments were hurried along so rapidly that they often lost touch

with each other. Along the Vistula, on the bridges and at the fords,

sentinels remained unchanged and without food for two or three days at a

stretch. They were forgotten, and some of them died at their posts. All

this time the Russians made great captures of their pursuers. So many

Germans were seized that the captors scarcely knew how to deal with

them. The prisoners when questioned said that they had been marching

almost without pause for five days and nights. Each morning they were

driven forward for three or four hours. Then they had twenty minutes'

rest, and were again sent onward until midnight."

* * * * *

Perhaps you will be surprised to learn that a British boy fought with

the Russians, and that he rose from the ranks to be an ensign.[58] His

name was John Wilton, and he was a frail lad of seventeen when the Tsar

gave him permission to serve in the ranks of the famous Petrograd

Guards. He became a mounted scout, and took part in every battle in

which his corps was engaged. He was one of the scouts who managed to get

within eight miles of Cracow. After six months' service he was promoted

ensign, and five months later was in command of the mounted scouts of

his regiment. On one occasion he very cleverly withdrew his scouts from

a position in which they had been ambushed by German cavalry, and got

them away with the loss of only one man.

* * * * *

You have read more than once in these pages of women fighting in the

Russian ranks. A story from Petrograd tells us that twelve schoolgirls

from a Moscow college somehow obtained uniforms, boarded a military

train at a roadside station, and thus reached the Austrian frontier.

When they left the train for the march towards Lemberg the major

discovered them, and ordered them back home; but they persuaded him to

let them go on with the army. "We had to have our hair cropped," said

one of them, Zoe Smirnoya, a girl of sixteen. "That is what I felt most.

My hair was long, and I confess I cried. I've carried it ever since in

my haversack."

The girls fought in many of the Galician battles. They never fell out of

the ranks, and they shared all the hardships of the campaign. They took

men's names, and their comrades treated them kindly. When von

Mackensen's big guns swept away the Russian trenches they fell back with

the army. An officer asked Zoe, "Were you afraid?" "Of course," she

replied; "how could one help? When the big shells burst all around us we

could not help crying out. Several of the girls were only fourteen, and

in their terror they called for their mothers. For that matter, I think

I blubbered too."

During the retreat one of the girls was killed by a shell. "We buried

her on the morning after the battle," said Zoe. "We put her in a

hurriedly-made grave, and set up a little cross marked with her name. On

the morrow we were far away, and now I hardly remember the place where

she was buried." Zoe was twice hit, and the second time was left out in

the open, but was rescued by stretcher-bearers. She spent a month in

hospital, and returned to the firing line as a corporal, wearing the war

medal and the Cross of St. George.

* * * * *

Amongst the names that Russians hold in high honour is that of

Michaelovna Ivanova, who acted as a nurse under her brother, a

regimental surgeon. She insisted on going out to tend wounded even in

the midst of a hail of bullets from rifles and machine guns. Her brother

and the other regimental officers begged her to seek shelter, but in

vain. When all the officers had fallen, the men lost heart for a moment

and began to retire. At once the heroic nurse ran in amongst them,

rallied them round her, and at their head rushed forward and captured a

trench. Unhappily she was struck by a bullet, and died shortly

afterwards.

* * * * *

Perhaps you will be surprised to learn that British seamen, with

armoured motor cars, were sent out to lend a hand to the Russians. They

did not take part in the fighting described in the former chapter, for

they only left England late in the year. On 12th December, when they

were in the Arctic Ocean on the way to Archangel, they established a

record by singing "God save the King" farther north than any British

field force on active service had ever been before. We may be quite sure

that, under Commander Locker-Lampson, they fully upheld the honour and

glory of the British Navy. It is also said that Japanese guns and

gunners fought for Russia during the year 1915.

[Footnote 56: Sacred pictures found in all Russian churches and houses.]

[Footnote 57: _Sho-pan´._ Frédéric François Chopin (1809-49), great

Polish musical composer and the finest pianist of his time. No man has

ever excelled him in writing music for the piano.]

[Footnote 58: Equivalent to our second lieutenant.]

CHAPTER XL.

FROM STORM TO CALM.