"I am astonished that Glasgow folks—and I have met quite a number since my return from that 'hell' out there—seem to be unaware of the extraordinary bravery which was displayed by the Irish soldiers, especially the Munsters and the Dublins. As you know, I am not Irish, and have no Irish connections whatever—in fact, I was rather opposed to the granting of Home Rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after having witnessed what I did—the unparalleled heroism of these Irishmen—I say nothing is too good to give the country of which they are, or rather were, such worthy representatives."My God, it was grand! It filled one with admiration and envy; because certainly no soldiers could show greater daring and bravery than these fine boys did in face of an awful fire and destruction. Aye, the race that can produce such men, supermen, as those chaps were, to do such glorious work for the Empire has the most perfect right to demand and, what is more, to get the freedom of its country and the right to rule it. Yes, it is but the merest truth to state that there would be no Dardanelles campaign heard of to-day if it had not been for the extraordinary services of these Irish troops, white men every one, and I have no doubt but that God has taken them to Himself."
"I am astonished that Glasgow folks—and I have met quite a number since my return from that 'hell' out there—seem to be unaware of the extraordinary bravery which was displayed by the Irish soldiers, especially the Munsters and the Dublins. As you know, I am not Irish, and have no Irish connections whatever—in fact, I was rather opposed to the granting of Home Rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after having witnessed what I did—the unparalleled heroism of these Irishmen—I say nothing is too good to give the country of which they are, or rather were, such worthy representatives.
"My God, it was grand! It filled one with admiration and envy; because certainly no soldiers could show greater daring and bravery than these fine boys did in face of an awful fire and destruction. Aye, the race that can produce such men, supermen, as those chaps were, to do such glorious work for the Empire has the most perfect right to demand and, what is more, to get the freedom of its country and the right to rule it. Yes, it is but the merest truth to state that there would be no Dardanelles campaign heard of to-day if it had not been for the extraordinary services of these Irish troops, white men every one, and I have no doubt but that God has taken them to Himself."
The Scottish soldier then goes on to bear remarkable testimony to the deep religious fervour of the Irish troops:—
"Oh, but they deserve a rich reward! What surprises me is thatthe papers have not been full of their praises. I would have expected that it would have been made widely known that the Irish boys had at least saved the situation and displayed a bravery the like of which was never equalled. It is a shame and a scandal, because I can tell you there is not a man in the Service who is aware of the great gallantry but who would willingly do anything now for the Irish people—yes, the Irish Catholics. I have no religion, but it was most charming and edifying to see these fine chaps with their beads and the way in which they prayed to God. We are all brothers, but to my dying day I bow to the Irish."
"Oh, but they deserve a rich reward! What surprises me is thatthe papers have not been full of their praises. I would have expected that it would have been made widely known that the Irish boys had at least saved the situation and displayed a bravery the like of which was never equalled. It is a shame and a scandal, because I can tell you there is not a man in the Service who is aware of the great gallantry but who would willingly do anything now for the Irish people—yes, the Irish Catholics. I have no religion, but it was most charming and edifying to see these fine chaps with their beads and the way in which they prayed to God. We are all brothers, but to my dying day I bow to the Irish."
Many an Irish home was made desolate. Ireland mourned for her young men; but there is an uplifting sorrow, the sorrow that is mingled with pride, and of that kind was the sorrow of Ireland.
At the dawn of Saturday morning, August 7th, 1915, the Ægean Sea and the Gulf of Saros, to the north-west of Gallipoli, were swarming with the most variegated collection of shipping, of all sorts and conditions—transports, cruisers, torpedo-boat destroyers, trawlers, barges, ocean liners, steam pinnaces, rowing boats, and tramp steamers. A fresh landing, at Suvla Bay, had been in progress all through the night. The first great landing, on April 25th, at Sedd-el-Bahr, at the toe of the Peninsula—in which the first battalions of the Dublin and Munster Fusiliers won imperishable renown—had secured a foothold in Gallipoli, but the hills and forts which guarded the passage up the Dardanelles to Constantinople, on the east, were still held by the Turks. Now a new and stupendous effort was about to be made to break the enemy's grip on the Peninsula.
The date, August 7th, 1915, should be ever memorable in the history of Ireland, and also in that of thewhole United Kingdom. On that day a Division of the New Armies raised for the war—"Kitchener's Armies," as they are popularly called—was brought under fire for the first time, and collectively engaged in battle. These citizen soldiers were Irish. Irish professional soldiers have always fought most gallantly for England in all her wars. But on that day, for the first time in the long and embittered relations between England and Ireland, a distinctively Irish Division (the 10th), voluntarily raised in Ireland and composed of 20,000 young men of fine character and high purpose, representative particularly of the Nationalist and Catholic sections of the community, were found on the side of England.
The 10th Irish Division was formed in the autumn and winter months of 1914. They left Ireland at the end of April, 1915, to complete their training in the great camp of Aldershot. At the end of June they embarked from England as part of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force. On Friday evening, August 6th, they parted from the olive groves and vineyards of beautiful islands in the Ægean, off the coast of Asia Minor, where they had been stationed a couple of weeks, and were brought up to Gallipoli. Here, then, were clerks from offices and counting houses, assistants from drapery and grocery shops, civil servants, public school boys, artisans, labourers, farm hands—a heterogeneous collection of youths from all walks in life—and officered chiefly by barristers, solicitors, engineers, and University students, who had only been a few months in training, and who before this call to arms suddenly rang through the Empire, seemed destined for peaceful and secure careers in civil life. Now, within a few hours of hearing, for the first time in their lives, a shot fired in anger, they were to beplunged right into the fiery and bloody whirlpool of war.
Gallipoli, as it looked from the decks of the troopships, even in the wonderful dawn of that August Saturday morning, had a mysterious and sinister appearance. The men saw yellow clayey cliffs, rising almost sheer from intensely blue water, and beyond these a huddle of pointed and desolate hills, to which no access seemed visible. To their right they could see Achi Baba—a head and shoulders, with two arms extending on each side to the sea—dominating the end of the Peninsula, like a Chinese idol, inscrutable, and disdainful of the shells from the battleships which raised clouds of smoke and dust about its face. The general objective of all the troops engaged in this new enterprise—English, Scotch, and Welsh Territorials, as well as the Irish Division of the new Armies—was the capture of the Anafarta Hills, a network of ravines and jungles to the north of the high mountain of Sari Bair, the key of the situation in this upper part of the Peninsula. The Australians, New Zealanders, and Maoris had been attacking Sari Bair since dark on Friday night, from their position at Anzac, lower down the Peninsula.
The 10th Division was wholly Irish, save for one English battalion, the 10th Hampshire Regiment. The 29th Brigade, composed of the 5th Connaught Rangers, 6th Leinsters, 6th Irish Rifles, and the 10th Hampshires, was detached from the Division, and landed at Anzac, to co-operate with the Dominion Forces. But the other two Brigades were entirely Irish. These were the 30th, consisting of the 6th and 7th Dublin Fusiliers, 6th and 7th Munster Fusiliers; and the 31st, consisting of the 5th and 6th Inniskilling Fusiliers, and the 5th and 6th Irish Fusiliers. In addition, there was the PioneerRegiment, the 5th Royal Irish Regiment (Colonel, the Earl of Granard, K.P.), the purpose of which was to facilitate the progress of the troops by removing obstructions, but which also took part in the fighting. These two Brigades had orders to clear the Turks out of the heights of Karakol Dagh, a long ridge fronting the Gulf of Saros, to the north; and to take a particular hill a few miles to the south, about three or four miles inland from Suvla Bay. This hill is known to the Turks as Yilghin Burnu. It was called Chocolate Hill by the invading army as part of its surface had been burnt a dull brown by shell fire. The Division was under the command of General Sir Bryan Mahon, a Galway man, who saw much service in Egypt and the Soudan, and in the South African War led the column which relieved Mafeking.
In a way, it is a pity that things were not so arranged as to have brought these unseasoned and unhardened Irish troops gradually to the great and searching test of war, that they were not afforded the opportunity of feeling the land of the foe under their feet, and becoming somewhat familiar with its extraordinary geographical conditions and climate, before they had to rush into battle. In warfare all that depends, usually, upon unforeseen circumstances, and the chance disposition of the forces. But it may have happened by special direction in this case; and, if so, it was a compliment to the 10th Division. "It is true they are new and untried, but they are Irish," it was probably said at Headquarters, "and being Irish, they may be relied upon, however hard and tough their job." In any case, both Brigades were successful in the enterprises to which they were set.
The disembarkation was carried out under fire from the Turkish batteries on the hills. The men weretaken from the transports in steam-driven barges, and though the barges had sheltering sides of steel, several men were killed and wounded by exploding shells even before they reached the shore. Half of the 30th Brigade, consisting of the two battalions of the Munsters, to whom was allotted the task of capturing Karakol Dagh, were landed to the north of Suvla Bay, just under the ridge. "How I wish that their fathers and mothers could know more of how these brave fellows fought and died!" writes the Commanding Officer of one of the Munster battalions in a letter to his relatives. "They, alas! for the most part just see the names of their dear ones in a casualty list, and can learn nothing further. The beach on which we landed was sown with contact mines, and as we crossed it to form up under cover of a small hill, many a poor chap was blown to bits—not very encouraging for those approaching in other boats. But they never wavered, but landed, and formed up as quietly and steadily as they used to do on the parade ground at the Curragh. I asked one poor chap who was slightly injured how he had got through, and he said, 'All I could think of, sir, was how anxious you must be to see how we would behave.' That is the spirit that one likes to see in a battalion."
The landing place of the other half of the 30th Brigade, the 6th and 7th Dublins, with the Inniskillings and the Irish Fusiliers, was to the south of Suvla Bay, at Niebruniessi Point, under the hill, Lala Baba. The men climbed the cliffs to the sand dunes. Leaving their packs behind them, they carried nothing but what was absolutely necessary—a rifle and 200 rounds of ammunition per man, a water bottle, and rations for two days in a bag, consisting of two tins of bully beef, tea, sugar, biscuits, and tablets of compressed meat. Thus equipped, withloosened girths and wearing their big brown sun-helmets, the troops advanced in eight or ten long lines, with two paces between each man. The 7th Dublins, the famous "Pals," flower of the youth of Dublin, were in the van. Colonel Geoffrey Downing, in command of the 7th Dublins, as the senior colonel of the battalions in the attacking line, got a message from Headquarters that it was imperative that Chocolate Hill should be taken before sunset. His reply was: "It shall be done."
As the crow flies Chocolate Hill is no more than four miles from the sea line. But to reach it the Irish troops had to make a wide enveloping movement, so that the ground actually covered in the advance was from ten to twelve miles. To the north of the point where the landing took place is a long and broad but shallow lagoon, called Salt Lake. The intense summer heat had dried it up and turned its bottom into a flat stretch of sand and dust, covered with a slight crust of salt which glistened in the sun. The Irish troops first proceeded a considerable distance ahead between the sea and Salt Lake, moving thereby parallel to Chocolate Hill, which lies east of the lake. At one point they had to pass over a long spit of sand, not twenty yards wide, that divided the sea and Salt Lake. The enemy had its exact range. Many a man was brought down as he attempted to cross it at a run. Then Colonel Downing, of the 7th Dublins, came upon the scene. He paused, lit a cigarette, and walked over the narrow ridge as coolly as if he were doing Grafton Street, Dublin. After this experience the troops wheeled to the right, and marching south-east across Salt Lake faced the rear flank of their objective.
Crossing Salt Lake in the open, they presented a clear target to the enemy, and were raked withmachine-gun fire, shrapnel and high-explosive shells. It is an ordeal that strains to the uttermost all the physical and mental qualities. One of the most common experiences of men who go through it for the first time is a distracting indecision whether to advance, halt, or retreat. But the successive lines went steadily on in short rushes, the men falling on their stomachs between each rush. There was no shelter. The expanse was unbroken even by a rock. The men sank almost to their knees in the soft sand. Very heavy, slow and tiring was the going. All the time Turkish explosives were bursting on every side, and comrades were dropping out of the ranks killed or disabled. One instance will show the steadiness and resolution of the troops. A shell burst in the middle of a platoon that was marching in rather close formation. Five men were blown to pieces. The platoon opened out and continued their advance. High over their heads the shells from the British cruisers and monitors out at sea went shrieking on their way to find the Turks. The land seemed to tremble with the din and vibration caused by this long-range artillery duel. The men were bodily shaken. But they were also greatly heartened to see, now and then, clouds of earth thrown into the air, telling how the explosive shells from the ships were rending the entrenchments behind which the enemy lay concealed.
After this ordeal in the open sandy plain, the Irish reached a totally different kind of country—an inextricable jumble of hills and gullies, strewn with boulders, overgrown with a thick prickly scrub, and wholly trackless. Here some shelter was afforded from the high explosives of the Turks, but not from their machine-guns and rifles, and the progress was still more slow and difficult. The nature of the country gave a tremendous superiority to the enemy, onthe defensive behind their entrenchments. What a hopeless, heart-breaking task it seemed to get free of this entanglement of rocks and scrub, which tore the clothes and lacerated the flesh, and force a way up these steep hills, on hands and feet to the Turkish positions. Men were falling on all sides. How soon would the end of the fiery furnace be reached? Would anyone get safely through? Such were the thoughts that occupied the mind of many a man, expecting that the next bullet or shell would strike him down. The battalions were broken up into unrelated sections, or else were mixed together. The nature of the ground, the gullies and ravines, the scrub and the rocks, split them up into fragments, each with its independent command. This kind of fighting was quite to the liking of the Irish troops. It gave play to individual personal courage and qualities of leadership.
What they all desired was to get into close grips with the Turks. How they hungered for the wild exultation of the bayonet charge, the shock of man to man in deadly encounter, the pursuit of a vanquished foe! The evening was well advanced before the end came in sight. Major Harrison gallantly led the 7th Dublins and men of other units in the final attack. "Fix bayonets, Dublins, and let's make a name for ourselves," was his cry. The hill had not only natural advantages for defence in rocks, scrub, and trees. It was also a network of trenches. From behind this double cover the Turks threw hand grenades at the Irish, now approaching with a rush and yelling fiercely. Soon they got a taste of bayonet and clubbed rifle administered by Irish hands. The Turks are brave fighters, but they quailed before the Irish onslaught and sought safety from it in precipitate flight. At half-past 7 o'clock, just as it was growing dark, Chocolate Hill was taken.
There is some dispute, I understand, between the Dublins and Inniskillings and Irish Fusiliers as to which battalion the men first in the Turkish trenches belonged. But does it really matter? Are they not all Irish? Probably men of all the battalions were in the last overwhelming rush. There is no doubt that the Dublins get most of the credit for the feat. The battalion was specially complimented by Headquarters for their heroism and endurance. And well they deserved it. What a baptism of fire it was for those inexperienced Irish lads! And what a confirmation of suffering. Over ten hours of continuous open fighting against machine-guns and artillery, and on a day of scorching heat! "We have gained a great name for the capture, and for the splendid regiment which I have the honour to command," says Colonel Downing. The General of the Division, Sir Bryan Mahon, speaking of all the battalions, said he had never seen better work by infantry. The fact that the hill was widely known afterwards among the troops in Gallipoli as "Dublin Hill" tells its own tale.
But there is another side to war, and tragic though it be, it must not be ignored, even now that the victory has been won. At the last phase of the fight the hills and ravines were flooded with crimson and purple and yellow, as the sun, in regal splendour, went down into the western sea. Those vivid colours were appropriate to the scene—the raging hearts of the opposing forces of men engaged in a death-grapple, the bitter humiliation of the defeated, and the glory of the victor's triumph. Then the night fell and the darkness was softly lit by a multitude of stars in a cloudless and almost blue sky. It seemed to speak most soothingly to the exhausted men of peace, silence, tranquillity, and the lapping coolness of running streams. Oh, to be able to get away fromthis terrific din, this intimate contact with throngs of fellow-men, these devilish instruments of death hurtling through the air—away into loneliness and quietude, only for a little while. But there was no respite. The enemy were still close at hand. It would be dangerous to succumb to the almost irresistible inclination to lie down and sleep. There might come at any moment a counter attack by the enemy. Most of the men, therefore, had to "stand to arms" through the night.
The wounded had also to be attended to. Some of them, totally disabled, had lain where they fell, out on the open sandy plain under the burning sun. They were tortured by thirst. As their comrades in the reserve lines passed them by they could be heard moaning in pain, calling for mother or wife, craving for a drink to moisten their parched mouths. It was forbidden the men to fall out of the lines for the purpose of succouring the wounded. That is the duty of the stretcher-bearers, following behind, and to them, the orders are, it must be left. But the 10th Division were new soldiers, and humanity had not been quite suppressed by discipline in the ranks. The cry of stricken comrade was irresistible. "Water; a drop of water for the Blessed Virgin's sake," they gasped, with mouths open and eyes starting from their heads, as if startled by the sight of something dreadful. So the men stopped for a minute to put a water-bottle to the lips of a mangled friend; and often the murmured thanks stiffened out into rigidity and silence.
Some of the wounded succeeded in crawling into the rocky gullies. Others lay in the thickets of scrub. They were sheltered from the fierce rays of the sun, but were in danger of the equally terrible fate of death by burning. On every side, throughout the day, fires were blazing. The dry scrub andbushes were set alight by petrol bombs. As a line of the Inniskilling Fusiliers were moving forward behind the Dublins, news was brought to them that there were some wounded men in an extensive patch of scrub that had just caught fire. Signaller John Wilkinson and another member of the battalion plunged into the thick smoke and brought out seven men. There was a burst of shrapnel, and Wilkinson, at the crowning point of his noble display of humanity, was killed.
When the wounded were brought down to the beach for conveyance in lighters and mine-sweepers to the hospital ships anchored about a mile and a half from the shore, the dead awaited reverent disposal. Of all the tasks that had to be performed that night in the starlight this was the pitifulest and most poignant. They were buried side by side, at the foot of Dublin Hill. With the death of these young lads in Gallipoli the light went out in many a home in far away Ireland. Mothers were weeping in sorrow and disconsolation. The country was torn by the conflicting emotions of pride in her sons and grief for their loss. It can be truly said that these young Irishmen gave their lives for civilisation and the freedom of Nationalities. But the immediate inspiration of their bravery was love of Ireland, and the resolve which sprang from it, that there should be no occasion for a word to be spoken in prejudice of the fighting qualities of the race, of the valour which Irish regiments have displayed on the battlefield at all times and in every clime.
For five days and nights the Irish troops who took Chocolate Hill, or Dublin Hill, on Saturday, August 7th, lay in the captured Turkish entrenchments before they could be relieved. The men were in the highest spirits over their exploit. But they felt stiff and sore and very, very dirty. They had sand in their clothes, sand in their hair, sand in their eyes, sand in their mouths and nostrils, and their faces and hands were black with the grime of powder and the smoke of the bush fires. And now, upon all that, they had to endure the particular discomforts and hardships which attend a campaign in a dry and torrid land.
The greatest trouble arose from the scarcity of fresh water to mitigate the tropical heat. The wells were few and far between, and being within range of the Turkish guns, were, all of them, constantly shelled. The quantity of water that could be brought to Dublin Hill was totally inadequate to satisfy the demand. The supply was strictly reserved for drinking purposes. Water was too scarce and precious to be wasted on personal ablutions. Better a filthy face than a parched mouth. The dirtiestwater was drunk with a relish. A Dublin Fusilier sighed for a draught of the cool and crystal water from the Wicklow hills. "Vartry water," exclaimed another; "I'd be quite content with a bucketful from the Liffey, even off the North Wall." Food was also hard to get. The commissariat had not yet been evolved out of the disorganisation attendant upon the landing. Under such a scorching sun the eating of the bully-beef in the men's ration bags was unthinkable. So their meals consisted chiefly of biscuits. Then there was the pest of myriads of flies. The Gallipoli flies were having the time of the life-history of their species. Big, ferocious, and insatiable freebooters, they would not be denied joining the troops at their meals and getting the bigger share of the scanty rations into the bargain. The worst affliction of all, however, was the stench of the half-buried and rapidly decomposing corpses in the captured trenches.
During the week which thus elapsed between the capture of Chocolate Hill and the still fiercer series of battles for the heights of Kiretsh Tepe Sirt, to the north, and of Sari Bair, to the south, which were to follow, regiments of the Irish Division were constantly engaged with the enemy on the foothills. Sari Bair was the strongest strategical position of the Turks in this part of Gallipoli. Like Achi Baba, towards the lower end of the Peninsula, it commands the Dardanelles, and especially the great military road along the shore of the Straits, over which the Turks were enabled quickly to send reinforcements of men, munitions, and stores from one point to another. One Irish Battalion actually gained a point on Sari Bair, from which they caught a glimpse of the Dardanelles. This was the 6th Royal Leinster Regiment of the 29th Brigade, which, as I have already mentioned, was separated from the 10th Division and sent south to co-operate with the forces from the Dominions. On Monday, August 9th, aparty of New Zealanders had fought their way up to a ridge of Sari Bair, but were unable to hold it; and as they came retreating down to the place where the 6th Leinsters were in reserve, they shouted: "Fix your bayonets, lads; they're coming over the hill." Sergeant-Major T. Quinlan, of the Leinsters, lying wounded in hospital, tells the story. "Everyone ran for his rifle and fixed his bayonet, picked up a bandolier or two of ammunition, and charged up the hill like a pack of deers, some without boots or jackets. I bet you the Turks never ran so quick in their lives, for our rifle fire and plunging bayonets, as we charged, were too much for them to stand. We regained the lost position in almost twenty minutes." And down below them, to the east, they could see that narrow ribbon of water which was the object of all this horrible killing—the Dardanelles glistening in the sun.
The positions held by the Irish regiments around Chocolate Hill were regularly bombarded. On August 9th Lieutenant D.R. Clery, of the 6th Dublins (a fine young Dublin man, very popular as a footballer), was missed. Captain J.J. Carroll, of the battalion, writing to a relative, says: "I know that he was in the very front of the firing line on August 9th, and one of our men told me on the ship coming home of Dan's magnificent conduct in carrying man after man out of danger. The man I refer to said that in saving others Dan had seemed utterly regardless of danger to himself." It was also in one of these outbursts of Turkish artillery that on Tuesday, August 10th, Captain James Cecil Johnston, Adjutant of the 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, was killed. Before the war Captain Johnston—a County Fermanagh man—was Master of the Horse to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Second Lieutenant R.S. Trimble, who was wounded on the same occasion, describes the incident in a letter to his father, Mr. W. CopelandTrimble, of Fermanagh. He was standing between his Colonel and his Adjutant in conversation when a shell came along. It tore the Colonel's arm to pulp, and though it passed Mr. Trimble, who was slightly out of the line of fire, the concussion of it dashed him violently to the ground, and then exploding, it blew Captain Johnston literally to pieces.
The Irish troops were greatly harassed by the enemy's sharpshooters. These snipers assumed all sorts of disguises and occupied every conceivable hiding place—up in the dwarf oak trees, lying prone in the scrub thickets, down in the rocks of the gullies—so that it was very difficult to spot them. Among those discovered was a peasant woman—the wife of a Turkish soldier—who lived with her old mother and her child in a little house near the Irish lines. She was a fine shot, and apparently confined her attention to stragglers, whose bodies she rifled; for several identification discs and a large sum of money were found in her possession. The daring and resource of the sharpshooters made them a deadly peril. One man caught in a tree wore a head covering and cloak formed of leaves. Another was found in a khaki uniform, stripped from a dead British soldier. The most perplexing feature of the sniping was that shots often came from the scrub behind. One of the victims of these tactics was Lieutenant E.M. Harper, of the 7th Royal Munster Fusiliers, who, while advancing with his company on August 9th, fell from a rifle shot fired from the rear.
The men of all the Irish battalions suffered from this game of hide-and-seek with death as they lay in the trenches on Dublin Hill. Relief came to them in the early hours of the morning of Friday, August 13th. They left at 1.30, and marched seven miles to a rest camp in a gully of Karakol Dagh running down to the Gulf of Saros, which they reached at 4.30, and a footsore, sleepy, haggard, unkempt,bedraggled, hairy, unwashed, and unshaven crowd they were. They owed this bivouac to the success of the Munsters and Royal Irish Regiment in expelling the Turks from part of the ridge. When dismissed in the camp every man, officer and private alike, flung himself down in the open where he was and as he was, and had his first undisturbed sleep for a week. In the morning they had the luxurious experience of getting out of their clothes and plunging into the sea. How they revelled in it, after that awful week of forced marches, battle, flies, smoke, stench, and sweat! What laughter and splashing! The shouts and the merry jests and their accents made the scene just such a one as might be witnessed at home in a swimming pool under Howth or Bray Head.
Afterwards the chief desire of all was to write home. As the men lay almost naked on the warm sands, under the scorching sun, many a letter was written to loved ones in Ireland, each telling how he got safely through his baptism of fire—the best news he could possibly send—and what a grand name his battalion had made for itself. Words of comfort and cheer are freely used in such of the letters as have been made public. "I'm happier than ever I was; it's just the sort of life I like." "You can't realise what high spirits I am in when I'm fighting. I feel as if it were all one long exciting Rugger match." "Don't you fret, I'll get through it all right; and even if I fall, sure we'll all meet again in the next world after a few brief years."
To call the camp a "rest" camp is, perhaps, a misnomer. It certainly afforded no refuge from the flies. "There is a fellow near me doing nothing but killing them in millions," writes one of the Dublins. "I had ten in a mug of tea as soon as it was handed to me," says another. This place of shelter was not safe even from the Turkish guns. As many as twenty-five men were knocked out by a shell. Butsuch as the camp was, the stay of the Irish in it was very brief indeed. On the morning of Sunday, August 15th, they were ordered to take up positions on the ridge above them, and wait for the word to go forward and attack. Though "burned like a red herring, and just as thin and thirsty," as one of the officers of the 7th Dublins said, describing himself and giving a comic picture of them all, they were again in good physical condition. And they had need to be. For they were now assigned a task that was to demand of them more fortitude and resolution and a bigger toll of life than even the taking of Dublin Hill.
It was fortunate, then, that on that very Sunday, August 15th, the great Irish Catholic festival of Our Lady's Day, the Catholic members of the forces were able to reinforce themselves with that sustaining power which the Mass and Holy Communion impart. The services were held by Father W. Murphy, one of the chaplains, under the sheltering hill, in the open air, not only within sound of the guns, but within sight of the bursting shells. It was a rudely improvised altar—a stone laid on trestles, a crucifix, and two candles—and the priest in his khaki service uniform under the vestments. Many of the men thought of the village chapel at home on that fine Sunday morning. They saw the congregation, all in their Sunday best, gathered outside, and while waiting for the bell to stop, exchanging gossip about the war, and inquiring of one another what was the latest from the Dardanelles, about Tom, and Mike, and Joe. The familiar scene was distinct to their mind's eye, and their beating hearts kept time to the measured tones of the chapel bell. After the Mass they were given the General Absolution. "It was very impressive," says Sergeant Losty, of the 6th Dublins, "to see Father Murphy standing out on the side of the hill, and all the battalions, with theirhelmets off and holding up their right hands, saying the Act of Contrition and he absolving them."
At this point it is appropriate that I should refer to the cordial and intimate relations which existed between the Protestant and Catholic chaplains of the 10th Division. An officer of the 30th Brigade, consisting of the 6th and 7th Dublins and the 6th and 7th Munsters, gives the following pleasant picture of Father W. Murphy, Catholic priest, and the Rev. Canon McClean, Church of Ireland minister:—
"This morning Father Murphy said Mass in the trenches, where bullets, etc., were falling like hailstones. Oh! he is a splendid man. The Canon, a dear, good Irishman from Limerick, holds his services side by side with Father Murphy. They put a great spirit into the men, who love them both; in fact, almost adore them. I personally think that nothing I know of is half good enough for those two noble gentlemen. Catholic and Protestant are hand-in-hand, all brought about by the gentleness and undaunted courage displayed by these two splendid soldiers of Christ. Never since the landing has the roar of battle, be it ever so ferocious (and God only knows it is bad here at times), prevented these clergymen from forcing their way into the firing line and attending to our gallant sons of Ireland. Canon McClean is over fifty years of age and Father Murphy is forty-eight. You can imagine them, even though of such an age, never off their feet, as they go to and fro daily to their duties."
"This morning Father Murphy said Mass in the trenches, where bullets, etc., were falling like hailstones. Oh! he is a splendid man. The Canon, a dear, good Irishman from Limerick, holds his services side by side with Father Murphy. They put a great spirit into the men, who love them both; in fact, almost adore them. I personally think that nothing I know of is half good enough for those two noble gentlemen. Catholic and Protestant are hand-in-hand, all brought about by the gentleness and undaunted courage displayed by these two splendid soldiers of Christ. Never since the landing has the roar of battle, be it ever so ferocious (and God only knows it is bad here at times), prevented these clergymen from forcing their way into the firing line and attending to our gallant sons of Ireland. Canon McClean is over fifty years of age and Father Murphy is forty-eight. You can imagine them, even though of such an age, never off their feet, as they go to and fro daily to their duties."
Both have been mentioned in Sir Ian Hamilton's despatches. Brigadier-General Nicol, in command of the 30th Brigade, writes in the warmest appreciation of their services. "We of the 30th Brigade are never likely to forget your fearless devotion to your duty," he writes to Canon McClean. "With you and Father Murphy we were indeed fortunate; and it was so nice to see you two the best of friends working hand in hand for the common good. You both set us a fine example." Canon McClean is rector of Rathkeale, County Limerick.
The objective of the new operations was the last crest of Kiretsh Tepe Sirt, or, as some call it, Kislah Dagh—a continuation of the Karakol Dagh, which the Munsters had taken—beyond which it dips and swings southward. Telegraphing from Alexandria, on August 19th, the special representative of the Press Association says, in the vague way then enjoined by the Censor, "The attacking troops were a Division which was almost wholly Irish, and which had already the capture of Chocolate Hill to its credit." The battalions engaged were, as a fact, entirely Irish.
The Munsters and 6th Dublins, advancing from different sides, commenced the attack about midday. "In two hours we had not advanced twenty yards, so heavy and well directed was the fire of the enemy," writes the Colonel of one of the battalions of the Munsters. "Our second in command, most gallant of officers, was mortally wounded, and many others had fallen. Two companies, however, under cover of some dead ground, had managed to get some 200 yards ahead of the rest of the line, and these companies were now ordered to make a strongdemonstration up the hill in order to try to weaken the resistance on the top. Fixing bayonets they rushed up with a wild Irish yell, and so great was their dash that they actually reached the crest. The Turks, appearing from behind every rock and bush, flung down their arms, and held up their hands. Many prisoners were taken, but the charge did not stop. On it swept along the ridge, and the last peak of all was captured before the enemy could make a stand." Here is an equally spirited account of the final charge, written by a man in the ranks, Private Jack Brisbane, of Buttevant, Co. Cork: "The 6th Munsters charged with the bayonet. You often heard a shout in the hurling field. It would not be in it. They were like so many mad men. Go on, Munsters! Up the Munsters! Even the sailors in the harbour heard it, and climbed up the rigging to try to get a view of it, and shouted themselves hoarse. Up the Munsters! It was grand. I am proud to be one of them. Father Murphy, our priest, said the evening after, when he came to give the boys his blessing: 'Well done, Munsters; you have done well,' so says the General. Father Murphy is a fine priest. His last word is: 'Boys, I'm proud I'm an Irishman.'"
Lieutenant Neol E. Drury, of the 6th Dublins, who before the war was a partner in a Dublin firm of papermakers, supplies the following spirited account of the action of his battalion in the operations:—
"About 4 o'clock everything seemed ready for a charge, so 'Fix bayonets' was the order, and, by Jove, the sight in the sun was ripping. There were several warships lying along the font of the ridge, and all the crews were lining the decks watching the fight. When the flash of the bayonets showed up in the sun a tremendous cheer came up to us. 'Cheer, oh! the Dubs!' Everyone yelled like mad, and charged up the remaining piece of ground as if it had been level. The bhoys put it across the Turks properly, and I can tell you therewere not many shining bayonets when we finished. We drove them off the ridge, helter skelter, and they fairly bunked, throwing away rifles and equipment wholesale. When we got to the top we had five machine-guns playing on them as they ran down the other side, and as our chaps watched them from the summit they cheered and waved their helmets like mad, all the other troops back along the ridge and the ships' crews joining in."
"About 4 o'clock everything seemed ready for a charge, so 'Fix bayonets' was the order, and, by Jove, the sight in the sun was ripping. There were several warships lying along the font of the ridge, and all the crews were lining the decks watching the fight. When the flash of the bayonets showed up in the sun a tremendous cheer came up to us. 'Cheer, oh! the Dubs!' Everyone yelled like mad, and charged up the remaining piece of ground as if it had been level. The bhoys put it across the Turks properly, and I can tell you therewere not many shining bayonets when we finished. We drove them off the ridge, helter skelter, and they fairly bunked, throwing away rifles and equipment wholesale. When we got to the top we had five machine-guns playing on them as they ran down the other side, and as our chaps watched them from the summit they cheered and waved their helmets like mad, all the other troops back along the ridge and the ships' crews joining in."
"Throughout the night the enemy, strongly reinforced, delivered counter-attacks, one after another," writes the same commanding officer of the Munsters. "The fighting was severe and bloody, but we held on, and the morning found us still in possession of what we had gained, though our losses had been terribly heavy." He goes on: "I wish I could retail half the acts of individual heroism performed during those hours—how one sergeant and one corporal, the former I believe had been destined for the priesthood, the latter only a boy, threw back the enemy's hand grenades before they could burst one after another, and failing these threw large stones. Alas! before morning they had both paid the penalty of their gallantry. In the morning we were relieved, but the roll call was a sad revelation. My observer, who had been my groom when we had our horses, shot through the body in the charge, refused to be removed until the doctor promised him that he would personally tell me that he was wounded, fearing that I might think he had not followed me. The doctor faithfully fulfilled his promise, though it cost him a long walk at night. Such was the spirit of all ranks. Other units, of course, were equally gallant." An extract from another letter must be given here, as it reveals one of the little tragedies of war, and the endurance and resolution of the men. Sergeant Gallagher, of D company of the Inniskillings, which was transferred to the Munsters and went into action with them, got a bullet in his right eye and was madestone blind. "I have a confession to make," he writes from hospital to the recruiting officer at Strabane, "I deceived you when you enlisted me. I had a glass eye, and now I have lost the other. I hope to be back in Strabane soon, but I shall never see the glen again, and watch the trout leaping behind the bridge. But I am happy, and we showed these Turks what Irishmen can do. No matter what happens I have done my bit, and I would not exchange with the best man at home."
The casualties among the other units were equally severe. On Sunday, late in the afternoon, the 7th Dublins got the word to push on to the crest of the hill and relieve the battalions that had captured it. They advanced in the mode of progression which alone was possible—slowly, in single file, crawling through the thick prickly scrub, sinking in the sand, stumbling over the rocks. It was laborious and exhausting work. All the time they were harassed by snipers. On the way up their commanding officer, Colonel Downing, was twice hit, and, being disabled, had to be left behind. Gaining the top of the hill, they relieved the Munsters and the 6th Dublins, and entrenched themselves as best they could, under the ridge, on the near side by working hard throughout the night.
At dawn on Monday morning, weary as they were from unremitting toil and want of sleep, they had to meet an attack by a large force of bomb throwers and riflemen. The Turks were at least three to one. Under cover of the night they had crept up the far side of the hill; and hiding, just under the ridge, behind rocks and bushes, hurled hand grenades across the twenty yards of rocky summit. The Dublins could not answer back. Rifle fire was of little use against a concealed enemy. There were no hand grenades.A few of the Turkish bombs which had not exploded, being wrongly timed, were hurled back, their long fuses still alight. Numbers of the Dublins were falling, wounded or killed. Major Harrison decided to try the effect of a bayonet charge. This was the action which, at the moment, was just what the men most desired. For them it was maddening to be held behind entrenchments whence they were unable to exchange blow for blow—and more—with those who were dealing death to their ranks. They were aflame with that bloodthirsty rage of men in battle to get at the throats of their opponents, to crush them, if need be to tear them to pieces. So when the order to charge was given the Dublins sprang up into the open.
The first line was led by Captain Poole Hickman, of D company, who came of a well-known Clare family and was a barrister by profession. He never returned from the charge. As the Dublins appeared at the summit there was a splutter of fire along the opposite ridge, which was lined by Turkish marksmen. The men wavered and swayed uncertainly for a minute or two before the shower of bullets. Hickman was well in front, waving his revolver and shouting "On, Dublins!" That was the last that was seen of him alive. The Turks made a horrid din, shouting and shrieking, as if further to intimidate their antagonists. But the Irish can yell, too, and wild were their outcries as with fixed bayonets or clubbed rifles they scrambled across the rocky summit. Many of them did not go far. As they dropped they lay strangely quiet in clumsy attitudes. Among them was their superb leader, Major Harrison. Others passed scathless over the open ground, only to disappear for ever behind the ridge. These charges and hand-to-hand fights commenced about seven o'clock. The Turks fought with tenacity. Itwas eleven o'clock before they gave way to the repeated Irish onslaughts.
During those four hours magnificent courage and daring were shown by the officers of the 7th Dublins. Many a young Irishman of brilliant promise was lost that day. They led their companies into the fray and were the first to fall. Captain Michael FitzGibbon, a law student, and son of Mr. John FitzGibbon, the Nationalist M.P., Captain R.P. Tobin, son of Surgeon Tobin, of Dublin—a gallant youth of twenty-one—and Second Lieutenant Edward Weatherill, an engineer, were killed. They were of priceless worth to their country and the beloved of their family circles. Major M. Lonsdale, of the 7th Dublins, writing to Mr. FitzGibbon, of the death of his son, says he died gallantly, leading part of A company. His death was instantaneous. All the other officers belonging to his company were also killed. "It was a desperate fight," adds Major Lonsdale, "and I do not think any but Irish soldiers could have stood up against the losses we suffered that Sunday and Monday." Lieutenant Ernest Hamilton, of D company, writing to Surgeon Tobin, states that when Harrison and Hickman fell Captain Tobin took command of the company. "Our men at this time," he says, "were getting badly knocked down. Paddy and I took up a position on the top of the knoll, and from there he controlled the fire and steadied the men. Such gallantry and coolness I have never witnessed. We fought like demons against three times our numbers, and held on, too. Our knoll came in for at least six attacks. During one of these your son was killed, shot through the head. He caught me by the shoulder, and when I turned round he had passed away. I carried him back some distance and placed him under shelter, but had to get back to my position to try to followhis magnificent example. His death affected the men so much that I thought all was finished. They fought for another hour as they never fought before. Then they were relieved."
Similar scenes were being enacted in other parts of the field of operations. The casualties among the officers of all the Irish regiments engaged were very heavy. Captain W.R. Richards, of the 6th Dublins, a Dublin solicitor, and Lieutenant J.J. Doyle, an engineering student of the National University, were killed. So, too, was Lieutenant W.C. Nesbitt, of the same regiment. Before he enlisted Mr. Nesbitt was in the service of the Alliance Gas Company, Dublin. His company had captured a ridge when he was shot in the side. Some of his men ran to his aid and raised him up. At the same instant he was struck a second time and killed. Among the officers of other regiments who fell was Second Lieutenant Hugh Maurice MacDermot, 6th Irish Fusiliers, eldest son of The MacDermot of Coolavin, Co. Sligo. Writing of the officers of the 5th Irish Regiment, Father Peter O'Farrell, chaplain to the battalion, says: "Nothing could excel, if anything could equal, the conduct of the company and platoon commanders on the 16th. Some stood on the ridge waving their revolvers and pointing out the enemy to their men. Of course they sacrificed their lives, for scarcely a man appeared over the ridge but went down to the well-directed fire of the Turkish snipers. These brilliant men, however, feared nothing. They even sang Irish tunes and shouted 'Up, Tip,' to encourage the Irish soldiers."
Many gaps were made that day in Irish sporting and professional circles. Only a few more names of the dead can be given out of the many who showed splendid devotion to duty and supreme self-sacrifice: Captain Dillon Preston, of the 6th Dublin Fusiliers;Captain George Grant Duggan, of the 5th Irish Fusiliers; Lieutenant J.R. Duggan, of the 5th Irish Regiment. The 7th Munster Fusiliers lost on August 16th alone four captains and two subalterns killed out of the thirteen officers who had survived the previous engagements. Among them were two Dublin men—Captain John V. Dunne, solicitor, and Lieutenant Kevin O'Duffy. Lieutenant Ernest M. Harper, of the same battalion, who was also killed, was a demonstrator in chemistry in Queen's University, Belfast. Lieutenant H.H. McCormac, 5th Irish Fusiliers, killed, was on the clerical staff at the Limerick offices of Guinness, the brewers. The famous D company of the 7th Dublins, led by Captain Poole Hickman and Captain Tobin, was practically wiped out. It was composed altogether of young men distinguished in football and cricket and other forms of sport. Many of them had ample private means, all belonged to the professional middle class of Dublin, and they felt it a high honour to serve in the rank and file of the Army.
Sir Bryan Mahon, the General in command of the 10th Division, sent a message to his troops saying that Ireland should be proud to own such soldiers. Ireland, indeed, is proud, though what happened was no more than what she expected. When the 7th Dublins were congratulated upon the stand they had made, their answer was: "And what the blank, blank, did you think we would do?" But with all her exultation in the valour of her sons, Ireland cannot close her ears to the cry of the Colonel of the 7th Munsters on seeing the few officers who returned from the fray: "My poor boys! My poor boys!"
There was a continuous series of desperate fights for the command of Sari Bair until the end of August. On the 21st of the month a general offensive tookplace on a grand scale, in which the forces of all nationalities that landed at Suvla Bay were engaged. To strengthen the attack of these inexperienced and unseasoned but most gallant troops the veteran 29th Division was brought up from Cape Helles. In that Division were the survivors of the 1st Regular battalions of the Dublins, Munsters and Inniskillings who took part in that most frightful and glorious episode of the campaign—the landing at Sedd-el-Bahr on April 25th, under the murderous fire of the Turkish batteries stationed on the cliffs.
The new Irish battalions again distinguished themselves in the battle of August 21st. The 5th Connaught Rangers made a famous charge for which they were specially thanked by the Australian Commander of their Division. "The Rangers," writes an officer of the battalion, "issued out to attack and capture the Kabak Kuzu wells and the Turkish trenches in the neighbourhood. It did not take them long. The men poured out from a gap in the line, shook out to four paces interval, and with a cheer carried all before them, bayoneting all the Turks in the trenches, capturing the wells, and even capturing some ground on the Kaiajik Aghala. All that night the position was consolidated, and in the morning was still held by the Rangers. The next day we were thanked by three General Officers and congratulated on the magnificent charge." The 7th Dublins had to advance across an open plain under the heights of Sari Bair. An Australian soldier who stood on a neighbouring hill told me that while English battalions cautiously crossed in a series of rushes—falling flat on their stomachs at each outburst of the Turkish guns—the Dublins made their way over the uneven, hillocky ground at a run. To move slowly, with proper caution, would be torture to their Irish nature, impatient and ardent, in such circumstances.
One of the old Regular battalions in the 29th Division, the 1st Inniskillings, also greatly added to their renown by their dauntless resolution on August 21st. The battalion pushed up to the top of Hill 70, or Scimitar Hill, but were unable to maintain their position, owing, as the Brigadier-General of their Brigade states, "to the unavoidably inadequate artillery support and complete preparedness on the part of the enemy, resulting in heavy cross-fire from shrapnel, machine-guns and rifles." Again they climbed the hill and again were driven back. They made a third charge up the hill, and after a desperate struggle were compelled once more to yield ground that was now thickly strewn with their dying and dead. The Brigadier-General mentions that the Inniskillings undertook the two further assaults entirely on their own initiative. He adds: "Had there been any appreciable number of survivors in the battalion, and had Captain Pike been spared to lead them for a fourth time, they would have continued their efforts to secure complete possession of the hill."
The operations failed in their main purpose. Sari Bair remained in the possession of the Turks. Mistakes made by some of the Generals of Divisions are said, by Sir Ian Hamilton, the Commander-in-Chief, to have been largely to blame for things going wrong. But the fighting was not altogether barren of results. The most desperate engagements in the last days of August had for their object the capture of Hill 60, close to Sari Bair. An attack by the 5th Connaught Rangers on August 29th secured its possession.
The battalion was again congratulated on its gallantry by three different General Officers. One of them, General Sir A.J. Godley, in command of the New Zealanders, sent the following message to Colonel Jourdaine, of the 5th Connaughts:—