On May 1st, after nightfall, I sent Claude Rolo out in the direction of the Gully Ravine, with ammunition and supplies for one of the Brigades of the 29th Division. He got to his destination safely, but while he was unloading the convoy, at about ten o'clock, whether by chance or design I know not, a tremendous hail of shrapnel was poured upon them from the Turkish guns a couple of miles away. Some forty of the mules had already been relieved of their loads and many of these broke away and galloped off into the darkness.
This turned out to be a providential diversion, for they helped to save the British Army that night, in much the same way as the cackling geese once saved Rome, for, all unknown to us, masses of Turks were at that very moment creeping up in the dark just before the rise of the moon.
They were in three lines, the first line being without ammunition, as it was their particular business, when they got near enough to our trenches, to rush them with the bayonet. The Turkish General Staff, however, had not calculated on Zion mules! The terrified animals, scared and wounded by the shrapnel, careered over our trenches and clattered down with clanking chains on the stealthy foe. The Turks undoubtedly took them for charging cavalry, for they poured a volley into them and thus gave away their position.
Our men instantly lined the trenches and opened such an intense fire that the Turks were utterly routed, and those of them that were left alive fled back to the cover of their own trenches. The battle was taken up all along the line, and, if volume of musketry counts for anything, it was the hottest night fight we had during all the time we were on the Peninsula.
Claude Rolo had a most arduous and perilous time collecting his men and mules in the midst of all this turmoil, but he eventually got them together and took them down a side track to the Gully, into which they all scrambled helter-skelter, for safety.
One of the men, Private Groushkousky, distinguished himself greatly in this fight, for when the hail of shrapnel descended on the convoy and stampeded many of the mules, this plucky boy--for he was a mere youth--although shot through both arms, held on to his plunging animals and safely delivered his loads of ammunition to the men in the firing line. I promoted Private Groushkousky to the rank of Corporal, for his pluck and devotion to duty, and, in addition, recommended him for the D. C. M., which I am glad to say he obtained.
While Rolo and his men were having such a strenuous time on the left of the line, I took a convoy to the Brigade holding the centre. At about two o'clock in the morning, soon after we had returned, we were all having a much-needed sleep, for we were worn out with constant coming and going day and night. I was roused from a deep slumber into which I had fallen by a messenger to say ammunition was urgently required by the Anson Battalion of the Royal Naval Division and other units on the right flank of our line. I remember what a difficult task it was to rouse the men, who lay about on the ground, like rolled-up balls, in front of their mules. I found a very effective plan was to shout loudly in their ear: "Turks!" That, coupled with the roar of the guns and the crackling of the rifles, quickly brought them back to realities, and almost in the twinkling of an eye the Zion men were loading up cartridges with feverish speed at the Ordnance Depot, which was situated not many yards below our lines. I always kept our mules saddled throughout the day and night, in relays, for I knew that in those strenuous times I would be likely to get a call at any moment to supply the firing line with ammunition.
No matter at what hour of the day or night we went to the ammunition stack, Major Howell Jones, the Chief Ordnance Officer of the 29th Division, was always on the spot to issue it; and not only was he there, but if there was any "push" on, he turned to and helped to load up the mules with his own hands. He was one of the hardest-worked men on the Peninsula, and I sincerely hope that the 29th Division realises all it owes to his energy and foresight.
In those early days after the first landing, when we were pressing the Turks so steadily before us, and we all expected that one final push would drive them over Achi Baba, the Zionists petitioned General Hunter-Weston to be permitted to take part in the assault. After some consideration, the General refused to let us go, saying that we were performing invaluable services in keeping the men in the trenches supplied with ammunition and food. Although we were denied officially the privilege of actually taking part in the attack, yet unofficially some of the Corps, at least, had the gratification of joining battle with the Turks.
It must be remembered that our troops had suffered terrible losses in those early battles, and the Inniskilling Fusiliers had fared no better than the rest, and they had very few men indeed with which to man their trenches in the event of an attack. Now it so happened that the Turks made a determined onslaught upon them on one occasion, when a party of the Zion Mule Corps was close by, unloading a convoy; and these Zionists, having the lust of battle strong in them, and seeing how weak the Inniskillings were, left their mules to take care of themselves and, under the leadership of Corporal Hildersheim, leaped into the trenches and materially assisted in repelling the Turks.
CHAPTER XII
LIFE IN OUR NEW CAMP
More and more troops kept on disembarking and within fourteen days we found ourselves being crowded out of our little valley that ran up from the sea, and it became a pressing necessity to look out for fresh quarters further inland. Nor were we sorry to move, for a road had been made close to our lines, which, owing to the great traffic upon it, was now several inches deep in fine white dust, which blew over us in choking clouds.
At this time, the whole of the Peninsula, from Cape Helles to Achi Baba, was one expanse of green pastures and cultivation, and the country looked exceedingly pretty. Quantities of beautiful flowers grew everywhere, so much so that some fields were a regular blaze of colour, the western slopes of Achi Baba itself being beautified by gorgeous stretches of blood-red poppies. Groves of trees of various kinds were dotted about, while the olive and the almond flourished everywhere. Here and there were to be seen round, masonry-topped wells, just like those pictured in illustrated Bibles, showing Rebecca drawing water for Abraham's servant--but, alas, here there was no Rebecca!
Before we left it, this smiling land became the most desolate, God-forsaken place that it is possible to imagine--nothing but row upon row of unsightly trenches, and not a single blade of grass anywhere to meet the eye.
For our new encampment I chose a level green field, some two miles inland, and into this we moved on May 11th.
A beautiful olive tree grew and threw a grateful shade by the edge of our encampment, and here, practically under its roots, we excavated a shallow dug-out and erected over it a shelter of canvas. Gye, Rolo and I settled ourselves in as comfortably as possible, and although we thought it merely a temporary halting-place on the way to Constantinople, we never moved camp again, and, indeed, for over seven months it was our home.
I had occasion to ride back to W Beach within a couple of hours after quitting our first encampment, and I heartily congratulated myself that we had cleared out of it just in the nick of time, for the Turks had concentrated their guns on the place immediately after we had left. I counted no less than thirty holes through a piece of canvas that was stretched over the place where we had slept the night before. Had we still been there we must all inevitably have been blown to smithereens!
At our new encampment we found, burrowed into the ground about us, the wagon lines of B, L and Y Batteries, R. H. A., together with the ammunition column--in fact, our lines joined up with L Battery, which, it will be remembered, earned such fame, and won so many V.C.'s during the retreat from Mons. Lieutenant Davidson of this Battery was in charge of the wagon lines, and, as it was Gallipoli, and he was all alone, the haughty horse gunner did not disdain to join the lowly Muleteers' Mess!
We were very glad to have him, as he was good, cheery, sensible company, and he also made a fourth at Bridge, which was our relaxation when nothing else had to be done. It is odd, when one thinks of it now, that we were far more interested at times, when the game got exciting, as to who should make the odd trick than in the Turkish shells, which flew screaming by a few feet over our heads, especially when one remembers that the deflection of the guns by a hair's-breadth by those tiresome fellows who were peppering us from Achi Baba and the plains of Ilium would have meant that, in our peaceful little dug-out, spades would have been trumps!
During the course of our stay here we gradually excavated and enlarged our dwelling and burrowed down into the ground, making a cellar into which we could retire in case the shelling became too hot, but, as a matter of fact, though the bombardment at times was hot enough to satisfy the most desperate fire-eater, we used our bomb proof entirely as a pantry, for which we found it most useful.
No sooner had we settled down to life in our new bivouac than the Turks began to annoy us by dropping shells into it and disturbing our peace of mind and body. On the morning following our arrival, while we were having breakfast under the spreading branches of our olive tree, a shrapnel burst, sending its bullets unpleasantly near. I remarked jocularly to the others that if the next shell came any closer we should have to move. Scarcely had I spoken when one went bang just over us, and a bullet whizzed between our heads and smashed through the arm of my Orderly Room Sergeant, Abulafia, who at that moment was standing by my side taking some orders. It is a marvel how it missed hitting a member of our little mess, for we were all sitting very close together round an upturned box which we were using as a breakfast table.
The same shell wounded two other men, besides killing and wounding half a dozen mules. We decided that the place was too hot for us, so, after helping our Medical Officer to dress the wounded, we finished our breakfast on the other side of a bank which ran along by our olive tree.
I must mention here that Sergeant Abulafia refused to have his wound dressed until the others who were more seriously injured had first received attention.
Dr. Levontin was very good in attending to wounded men under fire, and he gave first aid to these men and many others, often at great personal risk; but at last the continual battering of high explosive shells so close to his dug-out was too much for him, and his nerves went, as did the nerves of many others, and there was nothing for it but to send him back to Egypt. From the time of his departure our sick and wounded were ministered to by Captain Blandy, R. A. M. C., who was the medical officer in charge of the batteries camped round us, and the men, finding Captain Blandy most sympathetic and painstaking, did not fail to avail themselves to the full of his able services.
The troublesome Turks did not allow us to keep our animals in the pleasant field where we had, after much trouble, laid down our ropes and pegs and made our lines.
From Achi Baba and the slopes above Krithia they could see us perfectly well, and they rained such a tornado of shells round about us, ploughing up the ground in all directions, that I ordered a hasty evacuation of the field and chose another site close by, somewhat better concealed from view by a plantation of olive trees. It was extremely difficult to hide from the Turks as Achi Baba dominated the whole Peninsula. Even in our new position we were not allowed to remain undisturbed, for almost daily the Turks peppered us with shrapnel and high explosives, both from Achi Baba and the Asiatic coast.
I set the men to work to dig themselves and the mules well into the bowels of the earth, and in a very short time they had done this so effectually that a stranger visiting the place would be astonished if he were told that some hundreds of men and mules were concealed right under his very nose.
Soon after we had evacuated the field in which the Turks had shelled us so vigorously it was taken possession of by the Collingwood Battalion of the Royal Naval Division. They arrived in the dusk of the evening, and as they were apparently unaware of their dangerous position, I felt it to be my duty to go and warn the Commanding Officer, Captain Spearman, R. N., how exposed the place was, and how they would probably be plastered by high explosives as soon as the Turks discovered them on the following morning. Captain Spearman was very glad to be given this friendly warning and, in consequence, he made his Battalion dig itself well in, and for several hours into the night I could hear pick and spade digging and delving. It was well they did so, for on the following morning a brisk bombardment opened on them, but, thanks to the precautions which they had taken, they, on that day at all events, suffered no casualties.
It was very funny to see the men sitting in rows along the banks of earth thrown up out of their "dug-outs" and watch them dive, like rabbits into their burrows, at the sound of an approaching shell; then, after the explosion, every one popped up again to see what damage had been done.
During the time they were camped there a shell would now and again plump right into a dug-out and then, of course, the unfortunate occupants would be blown about in little pieces all over the place. A hand was once blown down to my horse lines, some hundred and fifty yards away from where the shell had burst, and shattered a man to atoms.
A German Taube for a time flew over our lines every morning long before sunrise, of course catching all our airmen napping. These visits were generally for observation purposes, but sometimes the Taubes would liven us up by dropping a few bombs. They made several shots at the French guns, but always missed. I saw a bomb land among a dozen French horses one day, and all of the unfortunate animals were terribly wounded. I never saw such shambles, for the horses were in a dug-out close together for safety. The Zion lines had several close escapes, as did the Royal Naval Division Hospital which was close to us, and where Staff-Surgeon Fleming cheerfully and skilfully attended to our sick and wounded at all times of the day and night.
The Taube is a much more vicious looking machine than ours. It has a certain air of arrogance about it, entirely lacking in our type of aeroplane. It is not in the least like a dove, as the German name signifies, but appears to me very like a hawk, always ready to pounce on its prey.
Day by day one kept missing friendly faces. I remember such a nice boy, belonging to one of the Naval Battalions, who used to pass my camp regularly with his platoon on his way to the beach to bathe. I never knew the boy's name, but he interested me as he was a bright, cheery, handsome youngster, who seemed to be on the best of terms with his men.
One day there was a vigorous bombardment of his lines, and when next the platoon went by the young officer was missing. He had been blown to pieces by a shell.
The Royal Naval Division were a mixed crowd, and their ways in Gallipoli were somewhat peculiar. Their habits and customs were decidedly "herumphroditish." They performed military duties as ordinary Infantry; then they jumped back and were sailors again. They kept time by the chiming of ships' bells; when they were wanted out of their dug-outs the boatswain would pipe "All hands on deck"; when a company was mustered on parade, the Commander (when the Commodore came along!) reported "All present on the main deck, sir"--the main deck being along a line of dug-outs; and if one herumphrodite wished to visit another herumphrodite in a different Battalion, he had to apply for "shore leave"!
The Collingwood Battalion met with a very sad end soon after their arrival in my neighbourhood. They were sent up to take part for the first time in an attack on the Turkish trenches, and they were placed on our extreme right, linking up with the French. When the order came to charge, they went forward most gallantly, capturing, with little loss, two of the Turkish lines of trenches, Captain Spearman, well to the fore, leading his men. He got shot in the foot, but, ignoring it, dashed along, waving his hat in the air as he cheered his men to the assault.
Unfortunately, owing to the conspicuous part he and his officers played in the attack (and it was necessary that they should do so, owing to the rawness of the men), he and practically all the other officers of the battalion were killed. Then some one, possibly a German, for there were several of them in the Turkish trenches round about, shouted out the fatal word "Retire." This was carried along the line and the men turned about and made back, helter-skelter, for their own trenches, but in trying to gain them they were practically annihilated by machine-gun and rifle fire. I was particularly sorry for Captain Spearman, who had come to our dug-out on many occasions, and had drunk an early cup of coffee with us only a few hours before he was killed.
In this disastrous retreat the Collingwood Battalion was practically wiped out. The survivors were transferred to another unit of the Royal Naval Division and the very name of this Battalion went out of existence.
CHAPTER XIII
A MAY BATTLE
During a big battle which took place early in May, I sent Gye forward with a large convoy of ammunition, and on riding out later on to see how things were going I passed over some of the ground occupied by the French, who were to the right of the British, and extended from thence across the Peninsula to the Dardanelles. A couple of miles to the rear of the fighting line extended the batteries of the famous .75s, cunningly concealed among trees, branches specially planted in the ground, reeds, etc. I watched the gunners serve their guns, and my admiration was aroused at witnessing the ease and celerity with which they were loaded, their mechanical arrangement for setting the fuse, and, above all, the beautifully smooth recoil of the barrel. This was so nicely adjusted that I might have placed my finger on the ground behind the wheel of the gun and have received no damage.
The French Army can give us points on many things, but above all stands their .75 gun. They are wonderfully accurate, marvellously quick, and seem able to pour out from their muzzles a continuous stream of projectiles. The French certainly did not starve their gunners in ammunition, and only for those .75s our position in Gallipoli would often have been somewhat precarious.
After I had watched the guns in action for a while I passed on, and going down the sandy road which led from Sedd-el-Bahr village to Krithia I came upon the first evidences of the fight that was now raging. A handsome young French artilleryman lay dead by the side of the road; some friend had closed his eyes, and he looked as if he merely slept, but it was the long sleep of death. A little further on lay some Zouaves, and yet a little further some Senegalese, all lying just as they fell, with their packs on their backs and their rifles close by, facing the foe--brave French soldiers all.
Turning a corner I found myself riding into General d'Amade and his staff, busily directing the battle. Almost at the General's horse's feet lay a Turk whose face was half blown away. The poor fellow had wrapped the end of his pugaree round his ghastly wound. Within a yard or two lay another Turk, his shoulder smashed to pulp by a shell. Both men bore up with the greatest fortitude and never uttered a groan. A first-aid dressing station was close by, where scores of wounded, French and Turks, were being doctored and bandaged. These sights of the uglier and sadder side of war are not pleasing, and any one who has seen the horrors of it can never wish to view such scenes again. I would put all Foreign Ministers, Diplomats and Newspaper Proprietors in the forefront of every battle for which they were in any way responsible. However, duty has to be done, even in the midst of horrors, so saluting the General, I pushed further along to the front, where I could see Gye with the mules in the distance.
By the time I had cantered up to him all the ammunition had been unloaded, and at the spot where I halted I found myself looking over a bank into the midst of a Battalion of cheery little Gurkhas (the 6th) and almost within handshake of their Commander, Colonel C. Bruce, who was an old acquaintance of mine. I had no idea he was in Gallipoli, and it was curious to come upon him, after some years, in the thick of a battle.
I stayed for a time chatting with him while the bullets and shells whizzed round--in fact, until an order came for his Battalion to go forward into the fight.
I myself went and took up a position on a hill close by, where I could see, as if from the gallery of a theatre, the whole fight staged before me; where I could note the move of practically every man and gun.