April 25th.—Sunday is just ten minutes old, and the ship's screw has started—we are off!
Later.—Still Sunday the 25th—5.15 p.m.
Hell with the lid off! Yes, I know what hell is, nor do I believe anyone in the world knows better. To-day I have seen shells plunging through the ship's hold in which I was, carrying off heads and legs, but my pulse has not once given an extra beat. "My word, sir," said a tar coming up to me, "you have a nerve." Tars have no lack of nerve as I have seen to-day, and I felt vastly proud of the compliment. Three of our Generals are reported on the casualty list, and Col. Smith-Carrington shot through the head on the bridge of our ship.
The bombardment commenced at 4.50 a.m. and was expected to carry on for an hour or a little over, but after twelve hours of the most terrific cannonade ever experienced in this world it has not yet come to an end. Nowat 5.30 an occasional shot comes from a battleship. The constant roar has made my head ache, and I am dead tired, having worked hard all day, and I must give an account of this another day.
April 26th.—The battle of Sedd-el-Bahr still rages, and with a fury but little less than yesterday. Yesterday was a very hard day, after attending wounded almost continuously up to 8.30 p.m. I volunteered to go ashore to see the wounded on the beach. The dead and dying were here in hundreds. Before I got back to the ship at 4 this morning I had a very hot time of it, and cannot understand why I am not a dead man. We were told yesterday that a counter-attack was to be made and that the Turks intended to blow the ship to pieces with cannon, which they were to bring up in the night. When the attack did come I gave up all hopes of anything but slaughter, as the men we had on land were insufficient in number to meet a large force.
About fifty men were leaving the ship when this started, and at the sound of the firing all fell flat on their faces, and if any one dared to move he was at once fired at. Some one on a barge next the small boat in which I had taken shelter asked if he could crawl into our boat, but I dared him or anyone else to move as such movement would only draw fire on every one of us. Not a man stirred, but lay on his face from midnight to 4 o'clock. It was not till the end of the attack that I learned these men had an officer with them. As I lay in the boat I shouted to them that an assault on us was likely, and ordered them to load and fix bayonets, and to see that all had plenty of ammunition. Extra bandoliers of cartridges were passed up from the rear, each pushing these along with a clatter. All this with the red cross on my arm! And with loaded revolver in hand I was prepared to die game.
The wounds I saw yesterday were in every part of the body, and most were severe, and the death-rate in proportion to wounded will be very high, many having four or five wounds.
Snipers are giving an extraordinary amount of trouble, the ground yielding itself to numerous hiding places overlooking our beach, about the rocks on our left as well as the immense old fort. The end of the fort nearest us is now but a jumble of huge stones and is an excellent place for snipers. A number of jackdaws and three huge storks had their dwelling here and have now to live pretty much in the heavens, circling over their old home in an excited condition.
It is now but 11.30 a.m. and I have been having a rest preparatory to the advance we are to make this afternoon. I have not had a wink of sleep since the 24th.
We join up with the French this afternoon. How the guns still thunder! The "Queen Elizabeth" with her 15-inch guns thundering over our heads as we rushed in past her at close quarters seemed to make our boat of 6600 tons sink some way in the water at every broadside. I was surprised to find that the heavy gunfire gave me no trouble, although like most of the others I began with cotton wool in my ears, but half an hour of this was enough, it interfered with sounds it was necessary to hear.
Here I am writing in the midst of one of the greatest battles in history. Any bombardment this world has ever known was a mere bagatelle to this.
To-day we had a naval funeral of General Napier and Colonel Smith-Carrington. The former was killed on a barge attached to us, and the other on the bridge. No one is to be present but the Catholic padre. A number of men are to be buried at the same time. The orders I received stated that all bodies had to be got rid of before we advanced. A pinnace from a warship was signalled for and all were taken out to sea.
Our advance from the shore began to-day about noon, our men lining out along the sands and the banks above, and gradually getting forward by short rushes. Barbed wire had also to be cut. But the advance through the village was the most difficult, as the remains of houses and garden walls contained snipers. I almost shiver to look back on a mad thing I did to-day—mad because it was done out of mere curiosity. I was asked to go to "Old Fort" beyond the village, near the outermost capture for to-day to see Colonel Doughty-Wylie and Major Grimshaw who were reported badly wounded. Both were dead, and as I was about to return I was next asked if I would go to a garden at the top of the village to see some wounded men. Afterwards I went right through the village alone, with only my revolver in my hand, and from the houses sniping was still going on. I had been assured that it was supposed to be safe. I peered into a number of wrecked houses—every house had been blown to bits—and I had not long returned when sniping commenced from a prominent corner house I had just passed. The only living things I saw in the village were two cats and a dog. I was very sorry for a cat that had cuddled close to the face of a dead Turk in the street, one leg embracing the top of his head. I went up to stroke and sympathise with it for the loss of what I took to be its master, when I found that the upper part of the man's head had been blown away, and the cat was enjoying a meal of human brains. The dog followed till I came upon three Dublin Fusiliers, who wished to shoot it straight away when I pleaded for it, but one of them had a shot at it when my back was turned and the poor brute went off howling. I had done my best, when going along the fosse of the "Old Fort," to save a badly wounded Turk from three of another battalion who were standing over him and discussing the advisability of putting an end to him, but I am afraid my interference was in vain here also.
Away beyond the heights we have taken to-day the country is very pretty with plenty of trees and vegetation. Here I saw dead and wounded Turks in abundance, especially at some of their own wire entanglements, several wounded being stretched out on the wires. Their wire is very barbarous and has long, closely set spikes, and the position must have been anything but comfortable.
Another counter-attack—the third—has just been made, and one of our battleships has joined in.
The Dublins, whose officers I have associated most with, have only three of these left out of twenty-seven. I came across two of these to-day—Padre Finn, R.C. Chaplain, whom I knew well and greatly respected, I found at the edge of the sea, with his clothes thrown open exhibiting a wound in the chest. And in the village, all huddled up among long weeds and nettles I found a lieutenant who sat at my table on the "Ausonia"—Bernard. In both cases death must have been instantaneous.
Here comes a fourth attack. Our boys are to have a night of it.
To-day only about eighteen shells were fired at the "River Clyde" all from the Asiatic side, only one hitting. We were putting wounded on board at the time and most of the shots were directed against these operations.
I have had no sleep since I left Tenedos, but to-night I feel very fresh, although the day has been long and busy.
All who know are quite satisfied with to-day's progress, and the hope that the worst is over cheers one. To-morrow we will have to move on, we must keep the Turks on the run. Some of the prisoners taken to-day are German.
(Being unable in my letters to my wife to give a full account of all that was doing, my diary was meant to fill in gaps, and as I had sent home a fairly full account of the landing much is omitted here, and I will give a moreextended description as seen by myself. About this time in particular my diary had to be written at odd moments, and it was rare that I could go far without being disturbed, and writing a few sentences half a dozen times a day, or even oftener, often ended in a jumble.)
Of the five British landings the one at Sedd-el-Bahr (V. Beach) was the most difficult and disastrous.
On the 24th of April we were still lying at Tenedos, and in the afternoon were transferred to the "River Clyde". We learned the previous day that we were to land from this old coal boat that had been rendered so peculiar with her great, gaping holes, and khaki splashes on her starboard side. She had been an object of curiosity to us in Lemnos harbour, no one having any idea of her purpose.
Before dark all the men were served with tea and food, which we were told was to be their last solid meal. Soon after this the men retired to rest in a hold near the stern which had been allotted to the West Riding Engineers and ourselves. The officers took up their quarters in the stern deck house, where we had cocoa, tinned meat, etc., after which we too tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible in the most uncomfortable of all quarters, most shutting their eyes and pretending to be asleep.
Our nerves were now fully strung, we knew we were on the very eve of the landing, which we were assured was to be rendered easy by the Navy, which had promised that their bombardment was to be so terrific that nothing the size of a cockroach would be left alive on the peninsula. We soon learned to our cost how difficult it was to substantiate this assertion.
From Tenedos we were but a small party of ships. In the pitchy darkness we had fallen in with the bigger fleet coming direct from Lemnos, and as we crept along, every ship in total darkness, we could just make out otherships alongside us. One with big hull and unusual length of guns was immediately on our port. At close quarters there was no mistaking this for anything but a dummy warship.
After a time the searchlight on the point of the peninsula could be seen sweeping its rays in long, regular flashes across the sea. By this time those ships that had furthest to go were ahead of us to the right and left. Just as the inky darkness was beginning to be dispelled there was a change in these lazy flashes. We were detected. At once they changed their long, comprehensive sweeps into sharp jerks from one ship to another as each hove into the rays. The searchlight soon went out, while hurried messages were no doubt being flashed over the wires to Constantinople and many points in our immediate neighbourhood, announcing our long-expected arrival.
Soon the guns began to roar, the first I heard being to our left up the Gulf of Saros, but in a few minutes all the ships had joined in the chorus, from what was afterwards known as Anzac all round the point and some way up the Dardanelles. A grand roar such as the world had never heard. The peninsula was quickly one dense cloud of poisonous-looking yellow-black smoke, through which flashes of bursting shells were to be seen everywhere. It was truly a magnificent sight, and the roar of the guns stirred one's blood like some martial skirl from the bagpipes. The feeling one had was a longing for them to hurry up and do their work, and let us get at the Turk at close quarters.
Our old ship crept slowly in through the ring of warships, took a circular turn just as we were passing through the line—apparently we were in too great a hurry—then we straightened our course and passed close past our covering ship, "Queen Elizabeth," the finest ship in the whole Navy, and which had been detailed to look after us. How her guns roared as she poured outbroadside, as we passed by her port side, straight in on full steam for the strip of sand under the village and fort of Sedd-el-Bahr.
Unable from our hold to see properly what was doing, I had spent most of the time on deck, and when about 200 yards from land I darted down below to warn the men to lie down in case we struck rock, when the impact would have been violent. I held on to a stanchion. We were fast in the sand before I was really aware that the ship was aground—there to lie for four years, to be shot at constantly whilst we occupied Gallipoli, but in spite of all her buffeting to serve many uses, and finally to become an object of veneration, "as holy as Westminster Abbey" some one says of her in "The Sphere". For the 2100 of us on board there was to be no retreat whatever happened. We had crossed the Rubicon and burned our boats.
On board we had the 1st Munster Fusiliers, two companies of the 1st Dublin Fusiliers, one company of Hants, 100 marines, a few of the Signal Company, the West Riding Engineers, and 124 stretcher-bearers of the 89th Field Ambulance.
We had been dragging along huge barges on either side, enough to form a couple of gangways, had they only behaved as was intended. When the ship struck, the momentum these had on should have been enough to keep them on their way till they grounded ahead of us, drawing but very little water as they did; but somehow or other this part was a failure, they grounded too soon, then broke away from each other. The men had then to get ashore in open boats manned by the marines we had on board. This was at once pushed on, boat after boat left the ship's side for the beach, perhaps 30 yards off, terrific machine-gunfire sweeping each boat.
The first few loads escaped with comparatively few casualties, but soon the fire was so hot and accurate thatpractically not a man got to the shelter of the 10 to 12-foot high sandbank beyond the narrow strip of sand. About 300 yards to our left was a high projecting rock, a continuation of the high ground that closed in that side of the long slope of V. Beach, and from here came that infernal shower of bullets that was causing such terrible havoc. From the "Clyde" one could easily tell where the bullets were coming from by their sputter in the water.
A constant stream of shells was being kept up all the time on this rock from the ships. The whole rim of V. Beach, as it stretched backwards for 500 or 600 yards, was searched time after time by high explosives, each shell bursting with accurate precision 5 or 6 feet under the crest. But the mischief was not coming from this crest, it was from that infernal rock alone, but in spite of all their efforts our guns could not silence this machine-gunfire.
It was an extraordinary sight to watch our men go off, boat after boat, push off for a few yards, spring from the seats to dash into the water which was now less than waist deep. It was just on this point that the enemy fire was concentrated. Those who got into the water, rifle in hand and heavy pack on back, generally made a dive forward riddled through and through, if there was still life in them to drown in a few seconds. Many were being hit before they had time to spring from the boats, their hands were thrown up in the air, or else they heaved helplessly over stone dead. All this I watched from the holes in the side of the ship, but when not otherwise occupied, from the deck where I could see on all sides.
But soon we of the Field Ambulance had other work to do. Many of the boats had all their rowers killed and never returned, others were able to push back, generally with most of their marines laid out, but withsufficient left to man a boat. Back they came to our starboard hole, and the wounded were lifted up to us and attended to. Repeatedly the whole of our floor was covered with wounded and dead men; a pinnace would arrive from a ship and relieve us of our wounded, but we filled up again almost at once.
Along the water's edge there was now a mass of dead men, on the sand a mixture of dead and weltering wounded, while a fair number had reached the sandbank just beyond, where, under an enfilading fire from the rock, they scraped themselves into the recesses. Boats from the other ships were being towed in in threes by pinnaces, till close to the beach when the pinnaces wheeled about, and for the last short distance they had to trust to their oars. Those landing to our right and left as they came in from the other ships were faring no better than those from the "Clyde". One boat half-way to the rock, and which had been left stranded, had three men caught in the festooned rope that runs round the gunwale. Into this they had dived, probably as the boat heeled over to that side and the rope had floated outwards, and there they swung for the rest of the day, two not moving a muscle and evidently dead, but for long I could see the other poor fellow stretch out his arms time after time, but before evening he too was still.
They still kept splashing on between the boats and the sand, dived forward and fell dead at once, or were drowned, till at last it was seen that it was useless to continue such slaughter to no purpose, and the landing at this point had to be given up for the time being.
After the hellish morning we had had, the afternoon thus became comparatively quiet. Those who were still unwounded made for the ruins of the round tower of the fort, slightly to our right. Round this pile of stones they peered, looking for the Turk, who was alwaysfound, but here there were but few shots exchanged, as the Turks advanced our men made a rush backwards, or to the sands below, in time to prowl forward once more to have another look, and make the same rush back.
Then came night with its full moon. An attempt was made to land more men about 8 o'clock. These were fired on and again we had to desist.
About 8.30 an officer on shore made a dash for our ship, and on describing the terrible condition and suffering of the wounded who had been in the sandbank for about fourteen hours, I decided to go to their assistance. We had previously been officially warned that it would be impossible for any of the Ambulance to land before morning, but heedless of this I set off alone over the barges and splashed through the remaining few yards of water. Here most of those still alive were wounded more or less severely, and I set to work on them, removing many useless and harmful tourniquets for one thing, and worked my way to the left towards the high rocks where the snipers still were. All the wounded on this side I attended to, an officer accompanying me all the time. I then went to the other side, and after seeing to all in the sand my companion left me, and I next went to a long, low rock which projected into the water for about 20 yards a short way to the right of the "Clyde". Here the dead and wounded were heaped together two and three deep, and it was among these I had my hardest work. All had to be disentangled single-handed from their uncomfortable positions, some lying with head and shoulders in the tideless water, with broken legs in some cases dangling on a higher level.
At the very point of this rock, which had been a favourite spot for the boats to steer to, there was a solid mass of dead and wounded mixed up together. The whole of these I saw to, although by this time there was little I could do except lift and pull them into morecomfortable positions, but I was able to do something for every one of them. My last piece of work was to look after six men who were groaning in a boat stranded close to the point of the rock. Three lay on each side with their legs inwards; a plank ran the whole length of the middle of the boat, and along this as it rested on their legs, men had been running during the landing. Getting on this plank some of them howled in agony and beseeched me to get off. I then got into the water and as I could do nothing more for them, my dressings being finished some time before, I gave each a dose of morphia by the mouth.
I had just finished and was standing waist-deep in the water when the Turkish counter-attack commenced with a volley from the distant end of the fort, not over 300 yards off. The only person the Turk could see was myself, the sandbank protecting the others from view, and at least seven or eight bullets spluttered round me in the water. I had been well warned that this counter-attack would take place at any moment, but I never gave it a single thought. It was in anticipation of this that the others clung to the shelter of the sandbank and I was left to work alone. I immediately splashed for a small boat that formed the end of one of the gangways, and into this I hauled myself. On looking at my watch I found it was just midnight, and that I had thus been at work for three and a half hours.
Midnight had evidently been chosen by the Turk as the hour at which to attack, and also by us to make another attempt to land men. At this moment a body of our men were coming along the gangway, the first of them being close to this boat which was on a slightly lower level than the barges that formed the bulk of the gangway. The five foremost threw themselves into my boat and we lay stretched across the seats, the men on the barges lying down at once where they were.Here none of us had any protection, and it was a miracle any one of us escaped, the fire from machine-guns and rifles was so terrific. Each bullet as it struck the "Clyde" drove sparks, while the old ship was ringing like a great bell. Two of our six were hit, the man stretched alongside me fatally. A seventh man in the water hauled himself in beside us, and as he was getting over the gunwale shouted, "Oh! I am hit". Hit or not hit we could not pay the slightest attention to each other now, all we could do was to lie low.
All this time I was expecting a rush for the "Clyde" by the Turks, and the boat I was in would be the first part of the gangway they would reach, and I could not help wondering what it would be like to get a bayonet through my stomach, but the feeling that this would certainly happen was not half so terrible as I should have expected. I had my revolver in my hand all the time, and it was a comfort to think that I would almost certainly account for two or three Turks before I experienced this new sensation.
The fire was kept up for about four hours, mainly on the side of the ship. As soon as there was a lull an officer in my boat shouted out. "This won't do, we must now land, follow me." He got up and splashed ashore, but the men, thinking he had been too hasty, preferred to wait a little longer after the Turks had ceased fire, but soon they began to move and dash singly for the land. I wished to get on the ship, and not half liking to get into an upright position either, I crept through and over those still on the barges, amidst much cursing from my paining the wounded, who must have been numerous.
I had had a strenuous and exciting day and night, and I must say I felt it a relief when I hopped through the nearest hole in the "Clyde". It was now 4 o'clock, and I shivered with cold. I had been soaked over the head, and lying four hours in the open boat in a coldnight it was impossible to keep warm. A big, black cloud had floated up over the moon, and we had a fairly sharp but short shower of rain. By this time the moon was nearing the horizon, and it was when another cloud came over her face that I succeeded in reaching the ship.
I found they had had a fairly trying time here too, although the ship's plates were thick enough to resist bullets. The noise of 100,000 bullets showering on the sides of the "Clyde" had caused a deafening din, and many had the wind up badly, not knowing what was going on outside.
The behaviour of the "River Clyde" had been a great puzzle to the Turks. She was not long aground when the guns on Kum Kale, across the Dardanelles, opened on us, and this fire was kept up the whole day—on us and us only as far as I could make out. It took them some time to get our range, and for a considerable time we were not hit, all the shells being shorts or overs. At last they got us, the first shell that hit going through our hold at an angle of 45 degrees, coming through the deck over our heads, and going out at the junction of the floor and side wall. In its course it struck a man on the head, this being splashed all through the hold. Another man squatting on the floor was hit about the middle of both thighs, one leg being completely severed, while the other hung by a tiny shred of skin only. He fell back with a howl with both stumps in the air.
In five minutes a second shell entered our hold, wounding two or three where we were, mostly by the buckling of the floor plates, then passing down below to the lowest hold where many men were sheltering under the water line. Here six or seven were laid out.
After this we had many narrow escapes, but I believe only two other shells actually struck the ship that day. By good luck none exploded in their passage through, otherwise the casualty list would have been very heavy.Many had been hit and killed on deck by machine-gun bullets, and many bullets had found their way through the small openings cut for working the twelve machine-guns that were placed there.
(I have the kind permission of the author, a scholarly and much-respected member of our Corps, to insert the following poem which appeared in "The British Weekly" and one of the Aberdeen papers.)
THE FACE OF DEATH.(Dedicated to Lieutenant George Davidson.)We shall not be the men we were before,No, never while we draw this mortal breath:For we have probed existence to the core,And looked upon the very Face of Death.Upon our famous collier, "River Clyde,"We sat as men who wait the summons dread.Brave soldiers fell, defenceless, at our side,We, too, might soon be numbered with the dead.With fateful frequency the shells did burstAround and near the members of our Corps:Within our hearts we asked, "Who'll be the firstTo converse with his comrades never more?"O never, never from our memory's pageShall be erased these moments of despair:An hour seemed an interminable age,But, in His mercy, God our lives did spare.We care not what the worldly wise may say,We owe deliverance to the God of Heaven,Whose Power Omnipotent the worlds obey,'Gainst whose decrees mankind in vain hath striven.Had He but chosen that our hour had come,No scheming had availed our lives to save:'Twas not the hour to call our spirits home,The Lord must take, as 'twas the Lord that gave.And not in vain were we to death brought nigh,[58]For He whose presence came our hearts so nearHath taught us we can ne'er His Will defy,But evermore should live in reverent Fear.And men have scaled the sacred slopes of PrayerWho ne'er before aspired to heights above:And find the Universe divinely fairBecause 'tis governed by a Heart of Love.GEORGE STEPHEN.89th Field Ambulance, R.A.M.C.,Gallipoli,24th May, 1915.
THE FACE OF DEATH.
(Dedicated to Lieutenant George Davidson.)
We shall not be the men we were before,No, never while we draw this mortal breath:For we have probed existence to the core,And looked upon the very Face of Death.
Upon our famous collier, "River Clyde,"We sat as men who wait the summons dread.Brave soldiers fell, defenceless, at our side,We, too, might soon be numbered with the dead.
With fateful frequency the shells did burstAround and near the members of our Corps:Within our hearts we asked, "Who'll be the firstTo converse with his comrades never more?"
O never, never from our memory's pageShall be erased these moments of despair:An hour seemed an interminable age,But, in His mercy, God our lives did spare.
We care not what the worldly wise may say,We owe deliverance to the God of Heaven,Whose Power Omnipotent the worlds obey,'Gainst whose decrees mankind in vain hath striven.
Had He but chosen that our hour had come,No scheming had availed our lives to save:'Twas not the hour to call our spirits home,The Lord must take, as 'twas the Lord that gave.
And not in vain were we to death brought nigh,[58]For He whose presence came our hearts so nearHath taught us we can ne'er His Will defy,But evermore should live in reverent Fear.
And men have scaled the sacred slopes of PrayerWho ne'er before aspired to heights above:And find the Universe divinely fairBecause 'tis governed by a Heart of Love.
GEORGE STEPHEN.89th Field Ambulance, R.A.M.C.,Gallipoli,24th May, 1915.
(The following is taken from my diary and dated August 3, 1916, just after we had landed in the Ypres salient to which the remains of our Division went after being wiped out in the great Somme fight the previous month:—
"I have to-day received a copy of the Aberdeen 'Free Press,' dated July 28, where there is an article on Gallipoli by one of our transport men, G. Burnett, who is now a lieutenant in the Scottish Horse. It runs: 'It is scarcely fair to single out officers and men who did gallant service that first week, but I feel that I ought to mention the names of Lieutenant George Davidson, and Private Gavin Greig. Lieutenant (now Captain) Davidson gained the D.S.O. while Greig was promoted sergeant shortly afterwards. We were told that Lieutenant Davidson led a bayonet charge, but he certainly did go into Sedd-el-Bahr, revolver in hand, to look for curios when there was yet great danger from snipers. And he used to go up towards the Turkish trenches, gathering flowers which he would show us on his return. Every man of us would have followed him anywhere. I recollect going out to help the bearers to take in some wounded, when the party of which I formed a member fell in with Lieutenant Davidson."Oh," he said, "would you men like to look for wounded on the hill-side?" "Yes," we answered. "Well, follow me," and we did until an officer forbade us to go any further.'"
The D.S.O. never materialized. I am assured a Cairo paper announced that it did, and I was often congratulated on the honour. But, as Artemus Ward would say, "Please, Mr. Printer, put a few asterisks here".)
April 28th.—Yesterday was spent dodging shells, with a short advance in the evening, and I had not time to write up my diary. At the present moment I am out reconnoitring alone, my post being the top of the high cliff west of our landing place, where the snipers gave us so much trouble, and I sit on the slope of the two gun battery which has its big Krupp guns dismantled, the result of the naval battering a few weeks ago.
A great advance on Krithia has begun, the various combatant units having already moved off, or are busily preparing. Those already over the ridges near the south point of the peninsula are having the attentions of the Krithia guns, a constant stream of shells coming from there. Many are also landing about our beach where the enemy knows large bodies of troops are still landing. All our sea monsters are busy off the whole point of Gallipoli, so far up the Dardanelles, and round the west coast. The air vibrates, and the roaring echoes all round never cease. And over all is a brilliant, scorching sun, the air otherwise a dead calm, and not a ripple on the Aegean. In spite of this calm a terrific day is in progress for the Turk and us, but we hope to make a great advance before night towards the capture of the forts at the Narrows. All round where I sit the ground is ploughed up with great holes, some beside this battery the largest of any, big enough to completely hide a horse and cart. Pieces of shell of several hundredweight lieabout. The precision of our gunfire has to be seen otherwise one could not believe how accurately they can hit a small object miles off. The very birds have got accustomed to the din, and on the face of the rocks where I sit is a pair of exquisite birds—probably jays—flitting about as though nothing unusual was going on. The variety of birds is not great, but all are new to me and have interested me greatly, so also have the flowers, which are very fine. I was specially taken with a big light purple rock rose, nearly three inches across, and in great abundance.
From this place of vantage I have watched our beach for some time, but as our services are not likely to be much needed here I must return to our Ambulance which lies to the east of the rock, and we must follow our Brigade (86) shortly.... Back and seated here again. The van of the Munsters arrived at this spot before I left, and dodged and ducked at every shell. On Sunday and Monday they had 286 casualties, including most of their officers. They still stream past just behind me, with the Lancs. and others. The Lancs. had suffered very badly at W. Beach, while the Dublins lost 550, with twenty officers out of twenty-three. Four Dublin officers sat at my table on the "Ausonia "—two are dead, the other two wounded.
April 29th.—I had no time to finish my account of the day's doings yesterday. It was too soon for our Ambulance to go out so I spent part of the forenoon at the General's Observation Hill with General Reeks, who was afterwards joined by General Hunter-Weston. By way of excuse for being there I was waiting to see how our attack on the Turks was getting on to see when I could get off with my bearers. The A.D.M.S. Colonel Yarr, was also present. By 5 a.m. the attack had stretched right across the peninsula, the French on our extremeright, next the Hants and Lancs., with Munsters and Dublins on the left. A furious cannonade went on for many hours, we advancing slowly till we were near the foot of Achi Baba, when the Hants ran short of ammunition and had to retreat, the French of course retiring also. Things were really looking bad for a time, and rumours of defeat were soon afloat. Ammunition at last coming up, we could get on, but during the retreat which had to be carried out over an open piece of ground, the want of shelter was the cause of very heavy casualties.
By 1 p.m. wounded began to pour past our camp from the 88th Brigade, and, although it was not our Brigade, I went up to their front with all the bearers, Morris remaining behind. We were able to do a lot of work, collecting the wounded beside a water supply, nearly two miles from where we started. After a time I left the men where they had plenty of work, and went forward by myself for some distance, past the "Five Towers," meeting scores of walking cases and assisting where I could. Shells, especially from the Asiatic side, were numerous, three big ones bursting quite near me. After a time I ordered the men to load their stretchers and had some trouble with a General who insisted on our remaining, but about this time we were to go out to our own Brigade, and I marched them off all fully loaded. Things were not looking too well and the General wished to get the wounded collected as quickly as possible. But we had to go, we had been ordered to a point further to the left "about 4 o'clock".
The A.D.M.S. had seen Morris and suggested that I should not go out again, so I remained behind and formed a Divisional Collecting Station for all cases that passed the lighthouse. Morris now went out with his men, mine remaining to assist me. We soon had several hundreds through our hands, largely stretcher cases which we arranged in rows in front of the ruins of the lighthouse,till we had more than we could do with, and soon had to forward most of our cases to W. Beach. At midnight we still retained about thirty-five cases, and all had to be nursed and protected from the bitterly cold wind and rain as best we could. The men willingly parted with their own coats and ground sheets, and some even their tunics. We all spent a most miserable night, and I never all my life felt the cold so acutely. But by morning, in spite of this, most of the wounded had recovered from the initial shock and were much brighter, and we had them forwarded to the 88th H.Q.
The chief reason for our not retaining over night a much larger number was that most hopeless accounts of the battle were being received from the wounded, that all our line was in retreat and that before morning we would be forced back to the sea, if not to our boats. I called for volunteers, at the suggestion of Major Bell, to go out and assist, and a number went off at once with their stretchers and did yeoman service, some not returning till 3 a.m. The Turks had been mutilating the wounded—at least so it was said—and we were anxious none should again fall into their hands.
Through the night firing was heard a very short distance off, but this was only from a few snipers who had somehow got through our lines.
By daylight the weather got warmer, and except for naval firing the 29th was a day of rest. Whyte had been detached from the stretcher-bearers before the landing and was in the tent-subdivision that landed at W. Beach. He wished to have a little more excitement and he and I exchanged places, I now joining Thomson at W. Beach. Thomson, Whyte, and their nineteen men had done much work at the landing and had a very hot time. After four days and nights of hard work, although I could not say I was tired, I felt that a rest might be advisable, but the thought of leaving the bearers, even for a day or two, was depressing.
April 30th.—A slack day in a way, although I have been on my feet since early morning. A great number of shells have landed near our camp at W. Beach at various times to-day, coming from Krithia or Achi Baba. It is strange how many shells may land in the midst of closely packed men and horses and little or no damage be done—but there are exceptions.
In the afternoon a hostile aeroplane flew over us—not the first time—which dropped three bombs at an anchored balloon we have floating just off the coast. It missed and received a fierce cannonade from a number of warships but escaped, apparently untouched, and was able to report to the Turks that our landing places would make a splendid target, and the firing, which had been fitful before, now became continuous for a time. One man only was hit. About 12 yards from the opening of my dugout one plunged into the ground with a terrific crash. Thomson and I reconnoitred for a mile or so to the north to view a spot to which we had been ordered to shift our camp, probably to-morrow.
Last night, not being altogether in the open, I expected a comfortable night, but it was intensely cold, as the nights here always are, the very hot days making the cold noticeable. By day the sun is always scorching hot, and I am absolutely nut-brown and my nose painfully burned.
On all sides I still hear of fresh casualties. The battalions I have been connected with have been nearly wiped out—the Munsters and half the Dublins at V. Beach, the Lancs. and the other half of the Dublins at W. Beach, and the Royals at X. Beach. Our total casualties are put at over 4000. We must have reinforcements before we can do much more, and within the next two days 20,000 are expected from Egypt.
Last night when some one shot a dog at Sedd-el-Bahr the French thought the Turks were on them and theyopened fire on their own men, several being killed and wounded.
May 1st.—More or less idle all day, all resting before the proposed attack on Achi Baba. In the afternoon we had a visit from an enemy aeroplane again, which dropped a bomb 40 yards from my "funk hole," and 4 yards from what had been taken for a pile of ammunition boxes but was really provisions—only damage, a big hole and a vile smell.
May 2nd.—Very fierce fighting all last night and the whole of to-day on the south slopes and ridges of Achi Baba, the Turks first charging and repulsing the French, Munsters, and Lancs. The firing from the sea, the French 75's and our 60-pounders was incessant, especially during the night. The Turks were finally driven back, but Krithia and the hills are still in their hands. I spent most of the night watching the progress of events, while the bearers, to whom I am unfortunately not attached to-day, were out at 1 a.m. Our casualties are not excessive considering the nature of the fight, while the Turks are said to have lost thousands from our artillery fire. Getting impatient at being out of it I succeeded in getting eight of the tent-subdivision out as bearers at 1 p.m. and I visited a good deal of the battlefield, as far as our reserve, where I found the Indians waiting for night duty and a likely attack from the Turks, or, as is half expected, we may offer a vigorous offensive.
Yesterday V. and W. Beaches had a hot attack by shell fire from the Asiatic, Krithia, and Achi Baba guns, about fifty shells landing in W. where our Ambulance has now formed its base. The damage done was slight. Two shells in quick succession exploded exactly over the heads of Thomson and myself when we were crossing the beach, both times something hitting me about theshoulders. These shrapnel shells are doing little harm, I had likely been hit by pieces of the material (a resin) in which the bullets are embedded. The smell was the worst of them.
Most of our transport came ashore to-day for the first time, and we are now eager to have our mails which are on board the "Marquette," but I doubt if anyone will take the trouble to send them over to us.
At 8 p.m. Thomson, myself, and fifty-six bearers set off to bring in wounded from a point 3 miles north of our Beach, and very nearly in a line with the Turkish and our firing lines. It was moderately dark when we started, but such a large body of men might have been visible to the enemy at some distance, and we spread out into a long line. All went well, but at several points to which we were directed as our destination we were always told the wounded were further on, and we began to think we were never to find them. We were getting very near the Turks' lines, and Thomson and I had various deliberations about the advisability of going further, but I was always determined to go on. At last we got a guide, but his idea of the whereabouts of the wounded was most hazy; all he knew was that they were collected in a nullah somewhere not far off. We came on a nullah at last and walked along its high steep banks, calling if anyone was at the bottom, in a voice not too loud owing to our proximity to the Turks. Just as we found them the fighting on our immediate right became very violent, the artillery and rifle fire being a perfect roar. Star shells were thrown over us, and we hid in the nullah while we were loading the stretchers and raising them to the top of the bank. Each stretcher squad made off at its hardest as soon as its patient was passed up. Thomson and I saw them all off, then had to cross an open piece of ground where three bullets were fired among our feet evidently by a sniper who was no distanceaway. This made us hurry still more, then the nullah had to be crossed to the south side. I stood in the middle of it, half-way to the knees in water and assisted ten stretchers across. Things all the time got hotter and hotter, the various batteries all belching forth at their hardest, star shells and rockets got still more numerous, and a searchlight from the Dardanelles side of Achi Baba swept the whole valley as far as our camp on W. Beach. It was a terrifying night and I was very happy to get all the men landed in camp at 10.15 safe and sound. Most of them enjoyed the little bit of sport, but Thomson overheard one of them remarking that although Lieut. Davidson didn't seem to know what fear was he had no business to bring them there. The bearers were under me and I was responsible, and I admit the charge was just; we had gone too far at such a time.
May 3rd.—Only occasional firing to-day. I went out with Kellas and Agassiz to show them the way to a point fixed on as a dressing station. After much wandering about admiring the flora of Gallipoli with Kellas we chose a spot which is unfortunately near one of our batteries. An officer there told us they intended to give the Turk a hot night and this will draw the enemy's fire about our new station, and as this is the first night ashore of these two officers I hope they will enjoy it. They arrived from the "Marquette" this morning along with Lt.-Col. Th. Fraser.
We had our usual visit from an enemy aeroplane this morning. Repeated shots went after it but away it flew towards the Narrows. The Asiatic guns have given us no trouble for two days. Commander Samson is said to have reported that two of these are disabled.
May 4th.—As far as the weather goes every day has been perfect since we came to Gallipoli—maximum ofsun absolutely, and cloudless sky by night always, except on two occasions.
We still wait for reinforcements which, however, are arriving, many French troops landing at V. Beach. Our men are due from Egypt to-day. Last night the artillery and rifle fire was again constant, especially on our right, where the French lines were again driven in by the Turks, but during the day they are said to have recovered their lost position.
Two aeroplanes passed over us to-day, one firing three bombs, the other two—no damage. Our aeroplanes were also active, circling time after time round Achi Baba at a height of perhaps 5000 feet. From 110 to 120 shots were fired at one of ours, all missing. An aeroplane came down just behind our camp for orders. We had no aerodrome nearer than Tenedos before. Here we have prepared a landing place, which is beautifully level, but being exposed to gunfire we cannot retain our machines over night, all have to return to Tenedos.
We have had notice this afternoon that our Brigade, the famous 86th, no longer exists as a Brigade. After its wonderful feats of bravery we have heard this with the greatest sadness, but some of the battalions being reduced to a fourth or a fifth of their original strength, and the officers killed and wounded in a still greater proportion, there was no help but to amalgamate with the other two Brigades of our Division—87th and 88th. The Company of Hants who were with us on the "River Clyde" did well. No unit in the whole Division receives greater praise for its work than the Royal Scots (Queen's Own Edinburgh).
According to the original programme the French were to land on the Asiatic side and advance up that side of the Dardanelles, but this they either failed to do or we had enough work for all on this side, and the right wing of the advance was assigned to them, and this they stillhold. From the point of Gallipoli to the top of Achi Baba is a distance of 5 miles, and before we take that it is expected that several thousand of our men will bite the dust.
The troublesome gun somewhere near Kum Kale has been more successful to-day I hear, her bag being three men and nine horses on V. Beach. Well do I know the whizz and thud of her shells—sounds all their own. This gun is mounted either on rails behind rising ground, where she can move sideways after firing a few rounds, or is on a disappearing platform.