"The enemy is evidently trying to obtain a local success before reinforcements can reach us; but the first portion of these arrive to-morrow and will be followed by a fresh Division from Egypt.
"It behoves us all, French and British, to stand fast, hold what we have gained, wear down the enemy and thus be prepared for a decisive victory.
"Our comrades in Flanders have had the same experience of fatigue after hard won fights. We shall, I know, emulate their steadfastness and achieve a result which will confer added laurels to French and British arms.
"Ian Hamilton,
"General."
Two cables from K.—
The first repeats a cable he has sent Maxwell. He begins by saying, "In a cable just in from the Dardanelles French Admiral, I see he thinks reinforcements are needed for the troops landed on Gallipoli. Hamilton has not made any mention of this to me. All the same yesterday I cabled him as follows:—"
(Here he quotes the cable already entered in by me yesterday.)
K. goes on, "I hope all your troops are being kept ready to embark, and I would suggest you should send the Territorial Division if Hamilton wants them. Peyton's transports, etc., etc., etc."
The second cable quotes mine of last night wherein I ask leave to call for the East Lancs. and says, "I feel sure you had better have the Territorial Division, and I have instructed Maxwell to embark them. My No. 4239 addressed to Maxwell and repeated to you was sent before receiving your telegram under reply. You had better tell him to send off the Division to you. I am very glad the troops have done so well. Give them a message of hearty congratulations on their successful achievement to buck them up."
Bravo K.! but kind as is your message the best buck up for the Army will be the news that the lads from Manchester are on their way to help us.
The cable people have pinned a minute to these two messages saying that the two hours' pull we have over Greenwich time ought to have let K. get my messagebeforehe wired to Maxwell. He may think Maxwell will take it better that way.
Before going to bed, I sent him (K.) two cables—
(1) "Last night the Turks attacked the Australians and New Zealanders in great force, charging right up to the trenches, bugles blowing and shouting 'Allah Hu!' They were bayoneted. The French are landing to lend a hand to the 29th Division. Birdwood's men are very weary and I am supporting them with the Naval Division." These, I may say, are my very last reserves.
(2) Telling K. how "I shall now be able to cheer up my troops by the prospect of speedy reinforcements, whilst informing them of your congratulations, and appealing to them to continue as they have commenced," I go on to say that we have used up the French and the Naval Division "so that at present I have no reserve except Cox when he arrives and the remainder of the French." I also say, simply, and without any reference to the War Office previous denial that therewasany second French Division, "D'Amade informs me that the other French Division is ready to embark if required, so I hope you will urge that it be despatched." As to the delay in letting me have the Indian Brigade; a delay which has to-day, so say the 29th Division, cost us Krithia and Achi Baba, I say "Unluckily Cox's Brigade is a day late, but I still trust it will arrive to-morrow during the day."
Bis dot qui cito dat. O truest proverb! One fresh man on Gallipoli to-day was worth five afloat on the Mediterranean or fifty loafing around London in the Central Force. At home they are carefully totting up figures—I know them—and explaining to the P.M. and the Senior Wranglers with some complacency that the sixty thousand effective bayonets left me are enough—seeing they are British—to overthrow the Turkish Empire. So they would be if I had that number, or anything like it, for my line of battle. But what are the facts? Exactly one half of my "bayonets" spend the whole night carrying water, ammunition and supplies between the beach and the firing line. The other half of my "bayonets," those left in the firing line, are up the whole night armed mostlywith spades digging desperately into the earth. Now and then there is a hell of a fight, but that is incidental and a relief. A single Division of my old "Central Force," so easily to be spared, so wasted where they are, could take this pick and spade work off the fighters. But the civilians think, I am certain, we are in France, with a service of trains and motor transport at our backs so that our "bayonets" are really free to devote their best energies to fighting. My troops are becoming thoroughly worn out. And when I think of the three huge armies of the Central Force I commanded a few weeks ago in England—!
29th April, 1915. H.M.S. "Q.E." Off the Peninsula.A biggish sea running, subsiding as the day went on—and my mind grew calmer with the waves. For we are living hand-to-mouth now in every sense. Two days' storm would go very near starving us. Until we work up some weeks' reserve of water, food and cartridges, I shan't sleep sound. Have lent Birdwood four Battalions of the Royal Naval Division and two more Battalions are landing at Helles to form my own reserve. Two weak Battalions; that is the exact measure of my executive power to shape the course of events; all the power I have to help either d'Amade or Hunter-Weston.
Water is a worry; weather is a worry; the shelling from Asia is a thorn in my side. The sailors had hoped they would be able to shield the Southern point of the Peninsula by interposing their ships but they can't. Their gunnery won'trun to it—was never meant to run to it—and with five going aeroplanes we can't do the spotting. Our Regiments, too, will not be their superb selves again—won't be anything like themselves—not until they get their terrible losses made good. There is no other way but fresh blood for it is sheer human nature to feel flat after an effort. Any violent struggle for life always lowers the will to fight even of the most cut-and-come-again:—don't I remember well when Sir George asked me if the Elandslaagte Brigade had it in them to storm Pepworth? I had to tell him they were still the same Brigade but not the same men. No use smashing in the impregnable sea front if we don't get a fresh dose of energy to help us to push into the, as yet, very pregnable hinterland. Since yesterday morning, when I saw our men scatter right and left before an enemy they would have gone for with a cheer on the 25th or 26th,—ever since then I have cursed with special bitterness the lack of vision which leaves us without that 10 per cent. margin above strength which we could, and should, have had with us. The most fatal heresy in war, and, with us, the most rank, is the heresy that battles can be won without heavy loss—I don't care whether it is in men or in ships. The next most fatal heresy is to think that, having won the battle, decimated troops can go on defeating fresh enemies without getting their 10 per cent. renewed.
W BEACH"W" BEACH
At 9 o'clock I boarded H.M.S.Kennett, a destroyer, and went ashore. Commodore Roger Keyes came along with me, and we set foot on Turkishsoil for the first time at 9.45 a.m. at "W" Beach. What a scene! An ants' nest in revolution. Five hundred of our fighting men are running to and fro between cliffs and sea carrying stones wherewith to improve our pier. On to this pier, picket boats, launches, dinghies, barges, all converge through the heavy swell with shouts and curses, bumps and hair's-breadth escapes. Other swarms of half-naked soldiers are sweating, hauling, unloading, loading, road-making; dragging mules up the cliff, pushing mules down the cliff: hundreds more are bathing, and through this pandemonium pass the quiet stretchers bearing pale, blood-stained, smiling burdens. First we spent some time speaking to groups of Officers and men and hearing what the Beachmasters and Engineers had to say; next we saw as many of the wounded as we could and then I walked across to the Headquarters of the 29th Division (half a mile) to see Hunter-Weston. A strange abode for a Boss; some holes burrowed into a hillock. In South Africa, this feature which looks like, and actually is, a good observing post, would have been thoroughly searched by fire. The Turks seem, so far, to have left it pretty well alone.
After a long talk during which we fixed up a good many moot points, went on to see General d'Amade. Unluckily he had just left to go on to the Flagship to see me. I did not like to visit the French front in his absence, so took notes of the Turkish defences on "V" and had a second and a more thorough inspection of the beach, transport and storage arrangements on "W."
Roper, Phillimore (R.N.) and Fuller stood by and showed me round.
At 1.30 p.m. re-embarked on theQ.E.and sailed towards Gaba Tepe.
After watching our big guns shooting at the enemy's field pieces for some time I could stand it no longer—the sight seeing I mean—and boarded the destroyerColnewhich took me towards the beach. Commodore Keyes came along, also Pollen, Dawnay and Jack Churchill. Our destroyer got within a hundred yards or so of the shore when we had to tranship into a picquet boat owing to the shallow water. Quite a good lot of bullets were plopping into the water, so the Commodore ordered theColneto lie further out. At this distance from the beach, withdrawn a little from the combat, (there was a hottish scrimmage going on), and yet so close that friends could be recognised, the picture we saw was astonishing. No one has ever seen so strange a spectacle and I very much doubt if any one will ever see it again. The Australians and New Zealanders had fixed themselves into the crests of a series of high sandy cliffs, covered, wherever they were not quite sheer, with box scrub. These cliffs were not in the least like what they had seemed to be through our glasses when we reconnoitred them at a distance of a mile or more from the shore. Still less were they like what I had originally imagined them to be from the map. Their features were tumbled, twisted, scarred—unclimbable, one would have said, were it not that their faces were now pock-marked with caves like large sand-martin holes, whereinthe men were resting or taking refuge from the sniping. From the trenches that ran along the crest a hot fire was being kept up, and swarms of bullets sang through the air, far overhead for the most part, to drop into the sea that lay around us. Yet all the time there were full five hundred men fooling about stark naked on the water's edge or swimming, shouting and enjoying themselves as it might be at Margate. Not a sign to show that they possess the things called nerves. While we were looking, there was an alarm, and long, lean figures darted out of the caves on the face of the cliffs and scooted into the firing line, stooping low as they ran along the crest. The clatter of the musketry was redoubled by the echoing cliffs, and I thought we had dropped in for a scrap of some dimensions as we disembarked upon a fragile little floating pier and were met by Birdie and Admiral Thursby. A full General landing to inspect overseas is entitled to a salute of 17 guns—well, I got my dues. But there is no crisis; things are quieter than they have been since the landing, Birdie says, and the Turks for the time being have been beat. He tells me several men have already been shot whilst bathing but there is no use trying to stop it: they take the off chance. So together we made our way up a steep spur, and in two hours had traversed the first line trenches and taken in the lie of the land. Half way we met Generals Bridges and Godley, and had a talk with them, my first, with Bridges, since Duntroon days in Australia. From the heights we could look down on to the strip of sand running Northwards from Ari Burnu towards Suvla Bay. There were machineguns here which wiped out the landing parties whenever they tried to get ashore North of the present line. The New Zealanders took these with the bayonet, and we held five or six hundred yards more coast line until we were forced back by Turkish counter-attacks in the afternoon and evening of the 25th. The whole stretch is now dominated by Turkish fire from the ridges, and along it lie the bodies of those killed at the first onset, and afterwards in the New Zealand bayonet charge. Several boats are stranded along this no man's land; so far all attempts to get out at night and bury the dead have only led to fresh losses. No one ever landed out of these boats—so they say.
Towards evening we re-embarked on theColneand at the very moment of transhipment from the picquet boat the enemy opened a real hot shrapnel fire, plastering with impartiality and liberality our trenches, our beaches and the sea. TheColnewas in strangely troubled water, but, although the shot fell all about her, neither she nor the picquet boat was touched. Five minutes later we should have caught it properly! The Turkish guns are very well hidden now, and theQ.E.can do nothing against them without the balloon to spot; we can't often spare one of our five aeroplanes for Gaba Tepe. Going back we had some long range shots with the 15-inch guns at batteries in rear of Achi Baba.
Anchored off Cape Helles at dark. A reply in from Maxwell about the East Lancs. They are coming!
The worst enemy a Chief has to face in war is an alarmist. The Turks are indeed stout and terrifying fellows when seen, not in a poetry book but in a long line running at you in a heavy jogtrot way with fixed bayonets gleaming. But they don't frighten me as much as one or two of my own friends. No matter. We are here to stay; in so far as my fixed determination can make it so; alive or dead, we stay.
30th April, 1915. H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth.From dawn to breakfast time all hands busy slinging shells—modern war sinews—piles of them—aboard. The Turks are making hay while the sun shines and are letting "V" Beach have it from their 6-inch howitzers on the plains of Troy. So, once upon a time, did Paris shoot forth his arrows over that selfsame ground and plug proud Achilles in the heel—and never surely was any fabulous tendon more vulnerable than are our Southern beaches from Asia. The audacious Commander Samson cheers us up. He came aboard at 9.15 a.m. and stakes his repute as an airman that his fellows will duly spot these guns and that once they do so the ships will knock them out. I was so pleased to hear him say so that I took him ashore with me to "W" Beach, where he was going to fix up a flight over the Asiatic shore, as well as select a flat piece of ground near the tip of the Peninsula's toe to alight upon.
Saw Hunter-Weston: he is quite happy. Touched on "Y" Beach; concluded least said soonest mended. The issues of the day beforeyesterday's battle seem certainly to have hung on a hair. Apart from "Y" beach might-have-beens, it seems that, further inland, detachments of our men got into a position dominating Krithia; a position from which—could they have held it—Turkish troops in or South of Krithia could have been cut off from their supplies. These men saw the Turks clear out of Krithia taking machine guns with them. But after half an hour, as we did not come on, they began to come back. We were too weak and only one Battalion was left of our reserves—otherwise the day was ours. Street, the G.S.O.I. of the Division, was in the thick of the battle—too far in for his rank, I am told, and he is most emphatic that with one more Brigade Achi Baba would now be in our hands. He said this to me in presence of his own Chief and I believe him, although I had rather disbelieve. To my mind "a miss is as good as a mile" should run a "miss is far worse than a mile." He is a sober-spoken, most gallant Officer. But it can't be helped. This is not the first time in history when the lack of a ha'porth of tar has spoilt the ship of State. I would bear my ills without a groan were it not that from the very moment when I set eyes on the Narrows I was sent to prize open, I had set my heart upon just this very identical ha'porth of tar—videlicet, the Indian Brigade.
Our men are now busy digging themselves into the ground they gained on the 28th. The Turks have done a good lot of gunnery but no real counter-attack. Hunter-Weston's states show that during the past twenty-four hours well over half of histotal strength are getting their artillery ashore, building piers, making roads, or bringing up food, water and ammunition into the trenches. This does not take into account men locally struck off fighting duty as cooks, orderlies, sentries over water, etc., etc. Altogether, it seems that not more than one-third of our fast diminishing total are available for actual fighting purposes. Had we even a Brigade of those backward Territorial reserve Battalions with whom the South of England is congested, they would be worth I don't know what, for they would release their equivalent of first-class fighting men to attend to their own business—the fighting.
There are quite a little budget of knotty points to settle between Hunter-Weston and d'Amade, so I made a careful note of them and went along to French Headquarters. By bad luck d'Amade was away, up in the front trenches, and I could not well deliver myself to des Coigns. So I said I would come again sometime to-morrow and once more wended my way along the busy beaches, and in doing so revisited the Turkish defences of "V" and "W." The more I look, the more do I marvel at the invincible spirit of the British soldier. Nothing is impossible to him; no General knows what he can do till he tries. Therefore, he, the British General, must always try! must never listen to the rule-of-thumb advisers who seek to chain down adventure to precedent. But our wounds make us weaker and weaker. Oh that we could fill up the gaps in the thinned ranks of those famous Regiments....!
Had ten minutes' talk with the French Captain commanding the battery of 75's now dug in close to the old Fort, where General d'Amade sleeps, or rather, is supposed to sleep. Here is the noisiest spot on God's earth. Not only do the 75's blaze away merrily from morn till dewy eve, and again from dewy eve till morn, to a tune that turns our gunners green with envy, but the enemy are not slow in replying, and although they have not yet exactly found the little beggars (most cunningly concealed with green boughs and brushwood), yet they go precious near them with big shell and small shell, shrapnel and H.E. As I was standing here I was greeted by an old Manchurian friend, le capitaine Reginald Kahn. He fought with the Boers against us and has taken his immense bulk into one campaign after another. A very clever writer, he has been entrusted by the French Government with the compilation of their official history of these operations.
On my way back to theArcadian(we are leaving theQueen Elizabethfor a time)—I met a big batch of wounded, knocked out, all of them, in the battle of the 28th. I spoke to as many of them as I could, and although some were terribly mutilated and disfigured, and although a few others were clearly dying, one and all kept a stiff upper lip—one and all were, or managed to appear—more than content—happy! This scene brought tears into my eyes. The courage of our soldiers goes far beyond belief. Were it not so war would be unbearable. How strongly God keeps the balance even. In fullest splendour the soul shines outamidst the dark shadows of adversity; as a fire goes out when the sunlight strikes it, so the burning, essential quality in men is stifled by prosperity and success.
Later. Our battleships have been bombarding Chunuk—chucking shells into it from the Aegean side of the Peninsula—and a huge column of smoke is rising up into the evening sky. A proper bonfire on the very altar of Mars.
1st May, 1915. H.M.S. "Arcadian."Went ashore first thing. Odd shells on the wing. Visited French Headquarters. Again d'Amade was away. Had a long talk with des Coigns, the Chief of Staff, and told him I had just heard from Lord K. that the 1st Brigade of the new French Division would sail for the Dardanelles on the 3rd inst. Des Coigns is overjoyed but a tiny bit hurt, too, that French Headquarters should get the news first from me and not from their own War Ministry. He insists on my going round the French trenches and sent a capitaine de la Fontaine along with me. Until to-day I had quite failed to grasp the extent of the ground we had gained. But we want a lot more before we can begin to feel safe. The French trenches are not as good as ours by a long chalk, and bullets keep coming through the joints of the badly built sandbag revetment. But they say, "Un peu de repos, après, vous verrez, mon général." During my peregrinations I struck the Headquarters of the Mediterranean Brigade under General Vandenberg, who came round his own men with me. A sturdy, thickset fair man with lotsof go and very cheery. He is of Dutch descent. Later on I came to the Colonial Brigade Headquarters and made the acquaintance of Colonel Ruef, a fine man—every inch a soldier. The French have suffered severely but are in fine fighting form. They are enchanted to hear about their second Division. For some reason or another they have made up their minds that France is not so keen as we are to make a present of Constantinople to Russia. Their intelligence on European questions seems much better than ours and they depress me by expressing doubts as to whether the Grand Duke Nicholas has munitions enough to make further headway against the Turks in the Caucasus: also, as to whether he has even stuff enough to equip Istomine and my rather visionary Army Corps.
By the time we had passed along the whole of the French second line and part of their front line trenches, I had had about enough. So took leave of these valiant Frenchmen and cheery Senegalese and pushed on to the advanced observation post of the Artillery where I met General Stockdale, commanding the 15th Brigade, R.F.A., and not only saw how the land lay but heard some interesting opinions. Also, some ominous comments on what armies spend and what Governments scrimp:—that is ammunition.
At 3 p.m., got back having had a real good sweat. Must have walked at least a dozen miles. Soon afterwards Cox, commanding the 29th Indian Brigade, came on board to make his salaam. Better late than never is all I could say to him: he andhis Brigade are sick at not having been on the spot to give the staggering Turks a knock-out on the 28th, but he's going to lose no more chances; his men are landing now and he hopes to get them all ashore in the course of the day.
The Intelligence have just translated an order for the 25th April found upon the dead body of a Turkish Staff Officer. "Be sure," so it runs, "that no matter how many troops the enemy may try to land, or how heavy the fire of his artillery, it is absolutely impossible for him to make good his footing. Supposing he does succeed in landing at one spot, no time should be left him to co-ordinate and concentrate his forces, but our own troops must instantly press in to the attack and with the help of our reserves in rear he will forthwith be flung back into the sea."
2nd May, 1915. H.M.S. "Arcadian."Had a sleepless night and strain was too great to write or do anything but stand on bridge and listen to the firing or go down to the General Staff and see if any messages had come to hand.
About 10 p.m. I was on the bridge thinking how dark it was and how preternaturally still; I felt all alone in the world; nothing stirred; even the French 75's had ceased their nerve-racking bark, and then, suddenly, in one instant, hell was let loose upon earth. Like a hundred peals of thunder the Turkish artillery from both Continents let fly their salvoes right, left and centre, and the French and ourselves did not lose manyseconds in reply. The shells came from Asia and Achi Baba:—in a fiery shower, they fell upon the lines of our front trenches. Half an hour the bombardment and counter-bombardment, and then there arose the deadly crepitation of small arms—no messages—ten times I went back and forward to the signal room—no messages—until a new and dreadful sound was carried on the night wind out to sea—the sound of the shock of whole regiments—the Turkish Allah Din!—our answering loud Hurrahs. The moments to me were moments of unrelieved agony. I tried to think of some possible source of help I had overlooked and could not. To hear the battle cries of the fighting men and be tied to thisArcadian—what torture!
Soon, amidst the dazzling yellow flashes of the bursting shells and star bombs, there rose in beautiful parabolas all along our front coloured balls of fire, green, red or white; signals to their own artillery from the pistols of the Officers of the enemy. An ugly feature, these lights so beautiful, because, presumably, in response to their appeal, the Turkish shell were falling further down the Peninsula than at first, as if they had lengthened their range and fuse, i.e., as if we were falling back.
By now several disquietening messages had come in, especially from the right, and although bad news was better than no news, or seemed so in that darkness and confusion, yet my anxious mind was stretched on the rack by inability to get contact with the Headquarters of the 29th Division and the French. Bullets or shell had cut some of the wires, and the telephone only worked intermittently.At 2 in the morning I had to send a battalion of my reserve from the Royal Naval Division to strengthen the French right. At 3 a.m. we heard—not from the British—that the British had been broken and were falling back upon the beaches. At 4 we heard from Hunter-Weston that, although the enemy had pierced our line at one or two points, they had now been bloodily repulsed. Thereupon, I gave the word for a general counter-attack and our line began to advance. The whole country-side was covered with retreating Turks and, as soon as it was light enough to see, our shrapnel mowed them down by the score. We gained quite a lot of ground at first, but afterwards came under enfilade fire from machine guns cunningly hidden in folds of the ground. There was no forcing of these by anycoup de mainespecially with worn out troops and guns which had to husband their shell, and so we had to fall back on our starting point. We have made several hundreds prisoners, and have killed a multitude of the enemy.
I took Braithwaite and others of the G.S. with me and went ashore. At the pier at "W" were several big lighters filled with wounded who were about to be towed out to Hospital ships. Spent the best part of an hour on the lighters. The cheeriness of the gallant lads is amazing—superhuman!
Went on to see Hunter-Weston at his Headquarters,—a queer Headquarters it would seem to our brethren in France! Braithwaite, Street, Hunter-Weston and myself.
Some of our units are shaken, no doubt, by loss of Officers (complete); by heavy losses of men (not replaced, or replaceable, under a month) and by sheer physical exertion. Small wonder then that one weak spot in our barrier gave way before the solid mass of the attacking Turks, who came on with the bayonet like true Ghazis. The first part of the rifle fire last night was entirely from our own men. The break by one battalion gave a grand chance to the only Territorial unit in the 29th Division, the 5th Royal Scots, who have a first-class commanding Officer and are inspired not only by the indomitable spirit of their regular comrades, but by the special fighting traditions of Auld Reekie. They formed to a flank as if on a peace parade and fell on to the triumphant Turkish stormers with the cold steel, completely restoring the fortunes of the night. It would have melted a heart of stone, Hunter-Weston said, to see how tired our men looked in the grey of morning when my order came to hand urging them to counter-attack and pursue. Not the spirit but the flesh failed them. With a fresh Division on the ground nothing would have prevented us from making several thousand prisoners; whether they would have been able to rush the machine guns and so gain a great victory was more problematical. Anyway, our advance at dawn was half heroic, half lamentable. The men were so beat that if they tripped and fell, they lay like dead things. The enemy were almost in worse plight and so we took prisoners, but as soon as we came up against nerveless, tireless machine guns we had to stagger back to our trenches.
As I write dead quiet reigns on the Peninsula, literally dead quiet. Not a shot from gun or rifle and the enemy are out in swarms over the plain! but they carry no arms; only stretchers and red crescent flags, for they are bearing away their wounded and are burying their piles of dead. It is by my order that the Turks are being left a free hand to carry out this pious duty.
The stretcher-bearers carry their burdens over a carpet of flowers. Life is here around us in its most exquisite forms. Those flowers! Poppies, cornflowers, lilies, tulips whose colours are those of the rainbow. The coast line curving down and far away to meet the extravagant blueness of the Aegean where the battleships lie silent—still—smoke rising up lazily—and behind them, through the sea haze, dim outlines of Imbros and Samothrace.
Going back, found that the lighter loads of wounded already taken off have by no means cleared the beach. More wounded and yet more. Here, too, are a big drove of Turkish prisoners; fine-looking men; well clothed; well nourished; more of them coming in every minute and mixing up in the strangest and friendliest way with our wounded with whom they talk in some dumb-crambo lingo. The Turks are doing yeoman service for Germany. If only India were pulling her weight for us on the same scale, we should by now be before the gates of Vienna.
In the afternoon d'Amade paid me a long visit. He was at first rather chilly and I soon found outit was on account of my having gone round his lines during his absence. He is quite right, and I was quite wrong, and I told him so frankly which made "all's well" in a moment. My only excuse, namely, that I had been invited—nay pressed—to do so by his own Chief of Staff, I thought it wiser to keep to myself. Yesterday evening he got a cable from his own War Ministry confirming K.'s cable to me about the new French Division; Numbered the 156th, it is to be commanded by Bailloud, a distinguished General who has held high office in Africa—seventy years old, but sharp as a needle. D'Amade is most grateful for the battalion of the Naval Division; most complimentary about the Officers and men and is dying to have another which is,évidemment, a real compliment. He promises if I will do so to ration them on the best of French conserves and wine. The fact is, that the proportion of white men in the French Division is low; there are too many Senegalese. The battalion from the Naval Division gives, therefore, greater value to the whole force by being placed on the French right than by any other use I can put it to although it does seem strange to separate a small British unit by the entire French front from its own comrades.
When d'Amade had done, de Robeck came along. No one on theQ.E.slept much last night: to them, as to us, the dark hours had passed like one nightmare after another. Were we miles back from the trenches as in France, and frankly dependent on our telephones, the strain would be softened by distance. Here we see the flashes; we hearthe shots; we stand in our main battery and are yet quite cut off from sharing the efforts of our comrades. Too near for reflection; too far for intervention: on tenter hooks, in fact; a sort of mental crucifixion.
Cox is not going to take his Punjabi Mahommedans into the fighting area but will leave them on "W" Beach. He says if we were sweeping on victoriously he would take them on but that, as things are, it would not be fair to them to do so. That is exactly why I asked K. and Fitz for a Brigade of Gurkhas; not a mixed Brigade.
3rd May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."At 9 p.m. last night there was another furious outburst of fire; mainly from the French. 75's and rifles vied against one another in making the most infernalfracas. I thought we were in for anencoreperformance, but gradually the uproar died away, and by midnight all was quiet. The Turks had made another effort against our right, but they could not penetrate the rampart of living fire built up against them and none got within charging distance of our trenches, so d'Amade 'phones. He also says that a mass of Turkish reserves were suddenly picked up by the French searchlights and the 75's were into them like a knife, slicing and slashing the serried ranks to pieces before they had time to scatter.
Birdie boarded us at 9 a.m. and told us his troubles. He has straightened out his line on the left; after a fierce fight which has cost him no less than 700 fresh casualties. But he feels safer nowand is pretty happy! he is sure he can hold his own against anything except thirst. Hisband-o-bastfor taking water up to the higher trenches is not working well, and the springs he has struck along the beach and in the lower gullies are brakish. We are going to try and fix this up for him.
At 10 o'clock went ashore with Braithwaite and paid visits to Hunter-Weston and to d'Amade. We had a conference with each of them, Generals and Staff who could be spared from the fighting being present. The feeling is hopeful if only we had more men and especially drafts to fill up our weakened battalions. The shell question is serious although, in this respect, thank Heavens, the French are quite well found. When we got back to the ship, heard a Taube had just been over and dropped a bomb, which fell exactly between theArcadianand the ammunition ship, anchored only about 60 or 70 yards off us!
4th May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."Last night again there was all sorts of firing and fighting going on, throughout those hours peaceful citizens ear-mark for sleep. I had one or two absolutely hair-raising messages. Not only were the French troops broken but the 29th Division were falling back into the sea. Though frightened to death, I refused to part with my reserve and made ready to go and take command of it at break of dawn. In the end the French and Hunter-Weston beat off the enemy by themselves. But there is no doubt that some of the French, and two Battalions of our own, are badly shaken,—no wonder! BothHunter-Weston and d'Amade came on board in the forenoon, Hunter-Weston quite fixed thathismen are strained to breaking point and d'Amade emphatic thathismen will not carry on through another night unless they get relief. To me fell the unenviable duty of reconciling two contrary persuasions. Much argument as to where the enemy was making his main push; as to the numbers of our own rifles (French and English) and the yards of trenches each (French and English) have to hold. I decided after anxious searching of heart to help the French by taking over some portion of their line with the Naval Brigade. There was no help for it. Hunter-Weston agreed in the end with a very good grace.
In writing K. I try to convey the truth in terms which will neither give him needless anxiety or undue confidence. The facts have been stated very simply, plus one brief general comment. I tell him that the Turks would be playing our game by these assaults were it not that in the French section they break through the Senegalese and penetrate into the position. I add a word of special praise for the Naval Division, they have done so well, but I know there are people in the War Office who won't like to hear it. I say, "I hope the new French Division will not steam at economic, but full, speed"; and I sum up by the sentence, "The times are anxious, but I believe the enemy's cohesion should suffer more than ours by these repeated night attacks."
To-day, the 4th, shells were falling from Asia on both "V" and "W" Beaches. We have landed aeroplanes on the Peninsula. The Taube has been bothering us again, but wound up its manœuvres very decently by killing some fish for our dinner. Approved an out-spoken cable from my Ordnance to the War Office. Heaven knows we have been close-fisted with our meagre stocks, but when the Turks are coming right on to the assault it is not possible to prevent a spurt of rapid fire from men who feel the knife at their throat. "Ammunition is becoming a very serious matter, owing to the ceaseless fighting since April 25th. TheJuniahas not turned up and has but a small supply when she does. 18 pr. shell is vital necessity."
5th May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."A wearing, nerve-racking, night-long fire by the Turks and the French 75's. They, at least, both of them, seem to have a good supply of shell. To the Jews, God showed Himself once as a pillar of fire by night; to the French soldier whose God is the 75 He reveals Himself in just the same way, safeguarding his flimsy trenches from the impact of the infidelhorde. The curse of the method is its noise—let alone its cost. But last night it came off: no Turks got through anywhere on the French front and the men had not to stand to their arms or use their rifles. We British, worse luck, can't dream of these orgies of explosives. Our batteries last night did not fire a shot and the men had to drive back the enemy by rifle fire. They did it easily enough but the process is wearing.
An answer has come to my prayer for 18 pr. stuff: not the answer that turns away wrath, but the answer that provokes a plaster saint.
"We have under consideration your telegram of yesterday. The ammunition supply for your force, however, was never calculated on the basis of a prolonged occupation of the Gallipoli Peninsula, we will have to reconsider the position if, after the arrival of the reinforcements now on their way out to you, the enemy cannot be driven back and, in conjunction with the Fleet, the Forts barring the passage of the Dardanelles cannot be reduced. It is important to push on."
Now von Donop is a kindly man despite that overbearing "von": yet, he speaks to us like this! The survivors of our half dead force are to "push on"; for, "it is important to push on" although Whitehall seems to have time and to spare to "consider" my cable and to "reconsider the position." Death first, diagnosis afterwards. Wherever is the use of reconsidering the position now? The position has taken charge. When a man has jumped off Westminster Bridge to save a drowningRussian his position has got beyond reconsideration: there is only one thing to do—as quickly as you can, as much help as you can—and if it comes to a choice between thequickand themuch: hark to your swimmer and hear him cry "Quick! Quick!! Quick!!!"
The War Office urge me to throw my brave troops yet once more against machine guns in redoubts; to do it on the cheap; to do it without asking for the shell that gives the attack a sporting chance. I don't say they are wrong in so saying; there may be no other way out of it; but I do say the War Office stand convicted of having gone hopelessly wrong in their estimates and preparations. For we must have been held up somewhere, surely; we must have foughtsomewhere. I suppose, even if we had forced the Straits—even if we had taken Constantinople without firing a shot, we must have fought somewhere! Otherwise, a child's box of tin soldiers sent by post would have been just the thing for the Dardanelles landing! No; it's not the advice that riles me: it's the fact that people who have made a mistake, and should be sorry, slur over my appeal for the stuff advances are made of and yet continue to urge us on as if we were hanging back.
A strong wind blows and Helles is smothered in dust. Hunter-Weston spent an hour with me this morning and an hour with the G.S. putting the final touches to the plan of attack discussed by us yesterday. The Lancashire Brigade of the 42nd Division has landed.
Hunter-Bunter stayed to lunch.
Later. In the afternoon went ashore and inspected the Lancashire Brigade of the East Lancs. Division just landed; and a very fine lot of Officers and men they are. They are keen and ready for to-morrow. Yes, to-morrow we attack again: I have men enough now but very, very little shell. The Turks have given us three bad nights and they ought to be worn out. With our sea power we can shift a couple of Brigades from Gaba Tepe to Helles or vice versa quicker than the Turks can march from the one theatre to the other. So the first question has been whether to reinforce Gaba Tepe from Helles or vice versa. For reasons too long to write here I have decided to attack in the South especially as I had a cable from K. himself yesterday in which he makes the suggestion—
"I hope," he says, "the 5th" (that's to-day) "will see you strong enough to press on to Achi Baba anyway, as delay will allow the Turks to bring up more reinforcements and to make unpleasant preparations for your reception. The Australians and New Zealanders will have had reinforcements from Egypt by then, and, if they hold on to their trenches with the help of the Naval Division, could spare you a good many men for the advance."
Old K. is as right as rain here but a little bit after the shower. Had he and Maxwell tumbled to the real situation when I first saw with my own eyes the lie of the land instead of the lies on their maps; and had they let me have the Brigade of Gurkhas I asked for by my letters and by my cable of 24th March, and by word of mouth and telephone up to the last moment of my leaving Egypt, thesehomilies about the urgency of seizing Achi Baba would be beside the mark, seeing we should be sitting on the top of it.
In the matter of giving K. is built on the model of Pharaoh: nothing less than the firstborn of the nation will make him suffer his subjects to depart from Egypt; and Maxwell sees eye to eye with him—that is natural. No word of the bombs and trench mortars I asked for six weeks ago, but the "bayonets" are coming in liberally now.
Two of Birdwood's Brigades sail down to-night and join up with a Brigade from the Naval Division, thus making a new composite Division for the Southern theatre. The 29th, who have lost so very heavily, are being strengthened by the new Lancashire Fusilier Brigade, and Cox's Indian Brigade. By no manner the same thing, this, as getting drafts to fill up the ranks of the 29th. Always in war there is three times better value in filling up an old formation than in making up the total by bringing in a new formation. I have given the French the Naval Brigade; the new, Naval-Australian Division is to form my general reserve.
So there! To-morrow morning. We have men enough, and good men too, but we are short of pebbles for Goliath of Achi Baba. These three nights have made a big hole in our stocks. Hunter-Weston feels that all is in our favour but the artillery. In Flanders, he says, they would never attack with empty limbers behind them; they would wait till they were full up. But the West is not in its essence a time problem; there, they canwait—next week—next month. If we wait one week the Turks will have become twice as strong in their numbers, and twice as deep in their trenches, as they are to-day. Hunter-Weston and d'Amade see that perfectly. I hold the idea myself that it would be good tactics, seeing shell shortage is our weakness, to make use of the half hour before dawn to close with the enemy and then fight it out on their ground. To cross the danger zone, in fact, by night and overthrow the enemy in the grey dawn. But Hunter-Weston says that so many regimental officers have been lost he fears for the Company leading at night:—for that, most searching of military tests, nothing but the best will do.
Hard up as we are for shell he thinks it best to blaze it away freely before closing and to trust our bayonets when we get in. He and d'Amade have both of them their Western experience to guide them. I have agreed, subject only to the condition that we must keep some munitions in reserve until we hear for certain that more is on its way.
The enemy had trusted to their shore defences. There was no second line behind them—not this side of Achi Baba, at least. Now, i.e., ever since the failure of their grand attempt on the night of the 2nd-3rd May, they have been hard at work. Already their lines cover quite half the ground between the Aegean and the Straits; whilst, in rear again, we can see wired patches which we guess to be enfilading machine gun redoubts. We must resolutely and at all cost make progress and smash up these new spiders' webs of steel before they connect into elastic but unbreakable patterns.
9th May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."Three days on the rack! Since the morning of the 6th not a word have I written barring one or two letters and one or two hasty scraps of cables. Now, D.V., there is the best part of a day at my disposal and it is worth an effort to put that story down.
First I had better fix the sequence of the munition cables, for upon them the whole attack has hung—or rather, hung fire.
On the 6th, the evening of the opening day, we received a postscript to the refusal already chronicled—
"Until you can submit a return of the amount you have in hand to enable us to work out the rates of expenditure, it is difficult to decide about further supplies of ammunition."
When I read this I fell on my knees and prayed God to grant me patience. Am I to check the number of rounds in the limbers; on the beaches and in transit during a battle? Two days after my S.O.S. the War Office begin to think about tables of averages!
I directed my answer to Lord K. himself—
"With reference to your No. 4432 of 5th inst., please turn to my letter to you of 30th March,[14]wherein I have laid stress on the essential difference in the matter of ammunition supply between the Dardanelles and France. In France, where the factories are within 24 hours' distance from thefiring line, it may be feasible to consider and reconsider situations, including ammunition supply. Here we are distant a fortnight. I consider that 4.5 inch, 18 pr. and other ammunition, especially Mark VII rifle ammunition, should instantly be despatched hereviaMarseilles.
"Battle in progress. Advance being held up by stubborn opposition."
Within a few hours K.'s reply came in; he says—
"It is difficult for me to judge the situation unless you can send me your expenditure of ammunition for which we have repeatedly asked. The question is not affected by the other considerations you mention." If space and time have no bearing on strategy and tactics, then K. is right. If ships sail over the sea as fast as railways run across the land; if Helles is nearer Woolwich than Calais; then he is right. I use the capital K. here impersonally, for I am sure the great man did not indite the message himself even though it may be headed from him to me.
Late that night came another cable from the Master General of the Ordnance saying he was sending out "in the next relief ship 10,000 rounds of 18 pr. shrapnel, and 1,000 rounds of 4.5 inch high explosive."
But why the next relief ship? It won't get here for another three weeks and by that time we should be, by all the laws of nature and of war, in Davy Jones's locker. True, we don't mean to be, whatever the Ordnance may do or leave undonebut, so far as I can see, that won't be their fault. Neither I nor my Staff can make head or tail of these cables. They seem so unlike K.; so unlike all the people. Here we are:—The Turks in front of us—too close: the deep sea behind us—too close. We beg them "instantly" to send us 4.5 inch and other ammunition; "instantly,viaMarseilles":—they tell us in reply that they will send 1,000 rounds of the vital stuff, the 4.5 high explosive, "in the next relief ship"!
Why, even in the South African War, before the siege of Ladysmith, one battery would fire five hundred rounds in a day. And this 1,000 rounds in the next relief ship (viaAlexandria) will take three weeks to get to us whereas stress was laid by me upon the Marseilles route.
Now, to-day, (the 9th), I have at last been able to send the Ordnance a statement (made under extreme difficulty) of our ammunition expenditure; up to the 5th May; i.e., before the three days' battle began. We were then nine million small arm still to the good having spent eleven million. We had shot away 23,000 shrapnel, 18 pr., and had 48,000 in hand. We had fired off 5,000 of that (most vital) 4.5 howitzer and had 1,800 remaining. A.P.S. has been added saying the amounts shown had been greatly reduced by the last two days' battle. Actually, they have fallen to less than half and, as I have said, we had, on the evening of the 7th, only 17,000 rounds of 18 pr. on hand for the whole Peninsula. Out of this we have fought the battle of the 8th and I believe we have run down now to under 10,000, some fear as low as 5,000.
Very well. Now for my last night's cable which, in the opinion of my Officers, summarises general result of lack of shell—
"For the past three days we have fought our hardest for Achi Baba winding up with a bayonet charge by the whole force along the entire front, from sea to sea. Faced by a heavy artillery, machine gun and rifle fire our troops, French and British alike, made a fine effort; the French especially got well into the Turks with the bayonet, and all along, excepting on our extreme left, our line gained ground. I might represent the battle as a victory, as the enemy's advanced positions were driven in, but essentially the result has been failure, as the main object remains unachieved. The fortifications and their machine guns were too scientific and too strongly held to be rushed, although I had every available man in to-day. Our troops have done all that flesh and blood can do against semi-permanent works, and they are not able to carry them. More and more munitions will be needed to do so. I fear this is a very unpalatable conclusion, but I see no way out of it.
"I estimate that the Turks had about 40,000 opposed to our 25,000 rifles. There are 20,000 more in front of Australian-New Zealand Army Corps' 12,000 rifles at Gaba Tepe. By bringing men over from the Asiatic side and from Adrianople the Turks seem to be able to keep up their strength. I have only one more brigade of the Lancashire Territorial Division to come; not enough to make any real effect upon the situation as regards breaking through."
Hard must be the heart that is not wrung to think of all these brave boys making their effort; giving their lives; all that they had; it is too much; almost more than can be borne.
Now to go back and make my notes, day by day, of the battle—
On the 6th instant we began at 11.30 after half an hour's bombardment,—we dared not run to more. A strong wind was blowing and it was hard to land or come aboard. Till 2 p.m. I remained glued to the telephone on board and then went ashore and saw both Hunter-Weston and d'Amade in their posts of command. The live long day there were furious semi-detached fights by Battalions and Brigades, and we butted back the enemy for some 200 or 300 yards. So far so good. But we did not capture any of the main Turkish trenches. I still think we might have done as well at much less cost by creeping up these 200 or 300 yards by night.
However!
At 4.30 we dropped our high-vaulting Achi Baba aspirations and took to our spades.
The Hood Battalion of the Royal Naval Division had been roughly handled. In the hospital clearing tent by the beach I saw and spoke to (amongst many others) young Asquith, shot through the knee, and Commander Wedgwood, who had been horribly hurt by shrapnel. Each in his own way was a calm hero; wrapped in the mantle bequeathed to English soldiers by Sir Philip Sidney. Coming back in the evening to the ship we watched theManchester Brigade disembarking. I have never seen a better looking lot. The 6th Battalion would serve very well as picked specimens of our race; not so much in height or physique, but in the impression they gave of purity of race and distinction. Here are the best the old country can produce; the hope of the progress of the British ideal in the world; and half of them are going to swap lives with Turks whose relative value to the well-being of humanity is to theirs as is a locust to a honey-bee.
That night Bailloud, Commander of the new French Division, came to make his salaam. He is small, alert, brimful of jokes and of years; seventy they say, but he neither looks it nor acts it.
The 7th was stormy and the sea dangerously rough. At 10 a.m. the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade were to lead off on our left. They could not get a move on, it seemed, although we had hoped that the shelling from the ships would have swept a clear lane for them.
The thought that "Y" Beach, which was holding up this brigade, was once in our hands, adds its sting to other reports coming from that part of the field. In France these reports would have been impersonal messages arriving from afar. In Asia or Africa I would have been letting off the steam by galloping to d'Amade or Hunter-Weston. Here I was neither one thing nor the other:—neither a new fangled Commander sitting cool and semi-detached in an office; nor an old fashioned Commander taking personal direction of the show. During so long drawn out a suspense I tried toease the tension by dictation. From the carbons I select these two paragraphs: they occur in a letter fired off to Colonel Clive Wigram at "11.25 a.m., 7th May, 1915."
"I broke off there because I got a telephone message in from Hunter-Weston to say his centre was advancing, and that by a pretty piece of co-operation between Infantry and Artillery, he had driven the Turks out of one very troublesome trench. He cannot see what is on his left, or get any message from them. On his left are the Lancashire Fusiliers (Territorials). They are faced by a horrid redoubt held by machine guns, and they are to rush it with the bayonet.[15]It is a high thing to ask of Territorials but against an enemy who is fighting for his life, and for the existence of his country, we have to call upon every one for efforts which, under any other conditions, might be considered beyond their strength.
"Were we still faced by the Divisions which originally held the Gallipoli Peninsula we would by now, I firmly believe, be in possession of the Kilid Bahr plateau. But every day a regiment or two dribble into Gallipoli, either from Asia or from Constantinople, and in the last two days an entire fresh Division has (we have heard) arrived from Adrianople, and is fighting against us this morning. The smallest demonstration on the part of Bulgaria would, I presume, have prevented this big reinforcement of fresh troops reaching the enemy, but it seems beyond the resources of diplomacy to get anyone to create a diversion."
At 4.30 I ordered a general assault; the 88th Brigade to be thrown in on the top of the 87th; the New Zealand Brigade in support; the French to conform. Our gunners had put more than they could afford into the bombardment and had very little wherewith to pave the way.
By the 4th instant I had seen danger-point drawing near and now it was on us. Five hundred more rounds of howitzer 4.5 and aeroplanes to spot whilst we wiped out the machine guns; that was the burden of my prayer. Still, we did what we could and for a quarter of an hour the whole of the Turkish front was wreathed in smoke, but these were naval shells or 18 pr shrapnel; we have no 18 pr high explosive and neither naval shells nor shrapnel are very much good once the targets have got underground. On our left no move forward.[16]Elsewhere our wonderful Infantry fought like fresh formations. In face of a tempest of shot and shell and of a desperate resistance by the Turks, who stuck it out very bravely to the last, they carried and held the first line enemy trenches. At night several counter-attacks were delivered, in every case repulsed with heavy loss.
We are now on our last legs. The beautiful Battalions of the 25th April are wasted skeletons now; shadows of what they had been. The thought of the river of blood, against which I painfully made my way when I met these multitudes of wounded coming down to the shore, was unnerving. But every soldier has to fight down these pitiful sensations: the enemy may beharder hit than he: if we do not push them further back the beaches will become untenable. To overdrive the willingest troops any General ever had under his command is a sin—but we must go on fighting to-morrow!
On Saturday, the 8th, I went ashore and by 9.30 had taken up my quarters in a little gully between "W" and "X" Beaches within 60 yards of the Headquarters of the Royal Naval Division. There I was in direct telephonic touch with both Hunter-Weston and d'Amade. The storm had abated and the day was fine. Our troops had now been fighting for two days and two nights but there were messages in from the front telling us they were keen as ever to get something solid for their efforts. The Lancashire Fusiliers Brigade had been withdrawn into reserve, and under my orders the New Zealand Brigade was to advance through the line taken up during the night by the 88th Brigade and attack Krithia. The 87th Brigade were to try and gain ground over that wicked piece of moorland to the West of the great ravine which—since the days when it was in the hands of the troops who landed at "Y"—has hopelessly held up our left. Every gun-shot fired gives me a pain in my heart and adds to the deadly anxiety I feel about our ammunition. We have only one thousand rounds of 4.5 H.E. left and we dare not use any more. The 18 pr shrapnel is running down, down, down to its terminus, for wemusttry and keep 10,000 rounds in hand for defence. The French have still got enough to cover their own attacks. The ships began tofire at 10.15 and after a quarter of an hour the flower of New Zealand advanced in open order to the attack. After the most desperate hand to hand fighting, often by sections or sometimes by groups of half a dozen men, we gained slowly, very slowly, perhaps a couple of hundred yards. There was an opinion in some quarters that we had done all we could, but I resolved firmly to make one more attempt. At 4 o'clock I issued orders that the whole line, reinforced by the Australians, should on the stroke of 5.30 fix bayonets and storm Krithia and Achi Baba. At 5.15 the men-of-war went at it hot and strong with their big guns and fifteen minutes later the hour glass of eternity dropped a tiny grain labelled 5.30 p.m. 8.5.1915 into the lap of time.
As that moment befell, the wide plain before us became alive. Bayonets sparkled all over the wide plain. Under our glasses this vague movement took form and human shape: men rose, fell, ran, rushed on in waves, broke, recoiled, crumbled away and disappeared.
At the speed of the minute hand of a watch the left of our line crept forward.
On the right, at first nothing. Then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole of the Northern slopes of the Kereves Dere Ravine was covered by bright coloured irregular surging crowds, moving in quite another way to the khaki-clad figures on their left:—one moment pouring over the debatable ground like a torrent, anon twisted and turning and flying like multitudes of dead leaves beforethe pestilent breath of the howitzers. No living man has ever seen so strange a vision as this: in its disarray; in its rushing to and fro; in the martial music, shouts and evolutions!
My glasses shook as I looked, though IbelieveI seemed very calm. It seemed; it truly seemed as if the tide of blue, grey, scarlet specks was submerging the enemy's strongholds. A thousand of them converged and rushed the redoubt at the head of the Kereves Dere. A few seconds later into it—one! two!! three!!! fell from the clouds the Turkish six inchers. Where the redoubt had been a huge column of smoke arose as from the crater of a volcano. Then fast and furious the enemy guns opened on us. For the first time they showed their full force of fire. Again, the big howitzers led the infernal orchestra pitting the face of no man's land with jet black blotches. The puppet figures we watched began to waver; the Senegalese were torn and scattered. Once more these huge explosions unloading their cargoes of midnight on to the evening gloom. All along the Zouaves and Senegalese gave way. Another surge forward and bayonets crossed with the Turks: yet a few moments of tension and back they fell to their trenches followed by salvo upon salvo of shell bursts. Night slid down into the smoke. The last thing—against the skyline—a little column of French soldiers of the line charging back upwards towards the lost redoubt. After that—darkness!
The battle is over. Both sides have fought with every atom of energy they possessed. Theheat is oppressive. A heavy mail from England. On shore all quiet. A young wounded Officer of the 29th Division said it was worth ten years of tennis to see the Australians and New Zealanders go in. Began writing at daylight and now it is midnight. No word yet of the naval offer to go through.
Issued a special order to the troops. They deserve everything that anyone can give them in this world and the next.
General Headquarters,9th May, 1915.
"Sir Ian Hamilton wishes the troops of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force to be informed that in all his past experiences, which include the hard struggles of the Russo-Japanese campaign, he has never seen more devoted gallantry displayed than that which has characterised their efforts during the past three days. He has informed Lord Kitchener by cable of the bravery and endurance displayed by all ranks here and has asked that the necessary reinforcements be forthwith dispatched. Meanwhile, the remainder of the East Lancashire Division is disembarking and will henceforth be available to help us to make good and improve upon the positions we have so hardly won."
10th May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian."Fell asleep last night thinking of Admirals, Commodores and men-o'-war and of how theymight, withinthe next forty-eight hours, put another complexion upon our prospects. So it seemed quite natural when, the first thing in the morning, a cable came in with the tea asking me whether I have been consulting de Robeck as to "the future operations that will be necessary." K. adds, "I hope you and the Admiral will be able to devise some means of clearing a passage."
Have just cabled back "Every day I have consultations with the Admiral": I cannot say more than this as I am not supposed to know anything about de Robeck's cable as to the "means of clearing a passage" which went, I believe, yesterday. No doubt it lay before K. when he wired me. I have not been shown the cable; I have not been consulted about it, nor, I believe, has Braithwaite, but I do happen to be aware of its drift.
Without embarking on another endless yarn let me note the fact that there are two schools amongst our brethren afloat. Roger Keyes and those of the younger school who sport the executive curl upon their sleeves are convinced that now, when we have replaced the ramshackle old trawlers of 18th March by an unprecedented mine-sweeping service of 20-knot destroyers under disciplined crews, the forcing of the Straits has become as easy ... well; anyway; easier than what we soldiers tried to do on Saturday. Upon these fire-eaters de Robeck has hitherto thrown cold water. He thought, as we thought, that the Army would save his ships. But our last battle has shown him that the Army would only openthe Straits at a cost greater than the loss of ships, and that the time has come to strike home with the tremendous mechanism of the Fleet. On that basis he quickly came to terms with the views of his thrusting lieutenants.
On two reservations, he still insisted: (1) he was not going to deprive me of the close tactical support of his battleships if there was the least apprehension we might be "done in" in his absence. (2) He was not going to risk his ships amongst the mines unless we were sure, if he did get through, we could follow on after him by land.
On both issues there was, to my thinking, no question:—(1) Although we cannot push through "under present conditions without more and more ammunition,"videmy cable of yesterday, all the Turks in Asia will not shift us from where we stand even if we have not one battleship to back us.
(2) If the ships force the Straits, beyond doubt, we can starve out the Turks; scupper the Forts and hold the Bulair lines.
We know enough now about the communications and reserves of food and munitions of the Turks to be positively certain they cannot stick it on the Peninsula if they are cut off from sea communication with Asia and with Constantinople. Within a fortnight they will begin to run short; we are all agreed there.
So now, (i.e., yesterday) the Admiral has cabled offering to go through, and "now" is the momentof all others to let Lord K. clearly face the alternative to that proposal. So I have said (in the same cable in which I answer his question about consultations with the Admiral) "If you could only spare me two fresh Divisions organized as a Corps I could push on with great hopes of success both from Helles and Gaba Tepe; otherwise I am afraid we shall degenerate into trench warfare with its resultant slowness."
Birdie ran down from Anzac and breakfasted. He brings news of an A.1 affair. Two of his Battalions, the 15th and 16th Australians, stormed three rows of Turkish trenches with the bayonet, and then sat down in them. At dawn to-day the enemy counter-attacked in overwhelming strength. The healthy part of the story lies herein, that our field guns were standing by in action, and as the enemy came on they let them have it hot with shrapnel over a space of 300 yards. Terrible as this fire was, it failed to beat off the Turks. They retook the trenches, but they have paid far more than their price, for Birdwood assures me that their corpses lie piled up so thick one on top of the other that our snipers can take cover behind them.
A curious incident: during the night a Fleet-sweeper tied up alongside, full of wounded, chiefly Australians. They had been sent off from the beach; had been hawked about from ship to ship and every ship they hailed had the same reply—"full up"—until, in the end, they received orders to return to the shore and disembark theirwounded to wait there until next day. The Officers, amongst them an Australian Brigadier of my acquaintance, protested; and so, the Fleet-sweeper crew, not knowing what to do, came and lashed on to us.[17]No one told me anything of this last night, but the ship's Captain and his Officers and my own Staff Officers have been up on watches serving out soup, etc., and tending these wounded to the best of their power. As soon as I heard what had happened I first signalled the hospital shipGuildford Castleto prepare to take the men in (she had just cast anchor); then I went on board the Fleet-sweeper myself and told the wounded how sorry I was for the delay in getting them to bed. They declared one and all they had been very well done but "the boys" never complain; my A.G. is the responsible official; I have told him theband-o-basthas been bad; also that a Court of Enquiry must be called to adjudicate on the whole matter.
Were an example to be sought of the almighty influence of "Time" none better could be found than in the fact that, to-day, I have almost forgotten to chronicle a passage in K.'s cable aforesaid that might well have been worth the world and the glories thereof only forty-eight short hours ago. K. says, "More ammunition is being pushed out to youviaMarseilles." I am glad.I am deeply grateful. Our anxieties will be lessened, butthat same message, had it only reached us on Saturday morning, would have enabled us to fire 5,000 more shrapnel and 500 more 4.5 howitzer H.E. to cover our last assault!