The Dardanelles

[Geoff S]

Sunday, April 18

In view of the approaching attack on Gallipoli, the 12th Battalion (of which the writer was a member) was to be parcelled out into companies to support the other battalions of the Third Brigade. This brigade was to make the initial landing at Gaba Tepe. The First and Second Brigades were to consolidate the ground gained, and the Fourth Brigade and New Zealanders were to be held in reserve until their services were urgently needed.

As for the Tommies, they were to make an entirely a temporary attack on an entirely sperate landing at Cape Hellas, while the French, by way of creating a diversion, were to make a temporary attack on the Asiatic coast.

The 12th Battalion packed up & left the Devanah in companies to be conveyed by lighters to their various destinations. D Company went to the Suffolk to act in conjunction with the 11th Battalion.

'The First Anzac Day (From the Diary of a Digger)'

#Next instalment April 21

[Geoff S]

Wednesday, April 21,

Two destroyers came alongside to enable troops in full rig-out (rifle, ammunition, pack, haversack and water-bottle) to practice boarding them by way of rope ladders. The acrobatic feat accomplished, we scrambled back again.

#Next instalment April 23.

[Geoff S]

Friday, April 23.

Rumour said that the morrow would be our great day, but no orders came out. A message from the King was read out to the troops on parade.

#Next Instalment April 24.

[Geoff S]

Saturday, April 24.

Definite preparations for the landing started to-day. Colonel “Tipperary” Johnson addressed the 11th Battalion and D Company of the 12th from the well deck. He said that there was a Turkish Battery situated on the eleventh line of attack which must be taken at all costs. One of the guns placed in King’s Park, Perth, would be a very handsome monument to the prowess of the West Australians in the First Division.

About midday three companies of the 11th were transferred to warships, In the afternoon a general exodus of troopships from Mudros Harbour began. The Suffolk, in her turn, steamed out through the narrow channel amidst re-echoing cheers.

Our rendezvous was the leeside of Tenedos Island. From thence, the whole convoy could at the fixed moment start off together and proceed in extended formation- an impossible manoeuvre within the bottle-necked harbour of Lemnos.

At, nightfall, the majority settled down to what rest they could get. A few gave vent to their feelings by singing snatches of popular airs, droning on the mouth-organs, dancing jigs, and turning the ship’s grindstone to put an extra sharp edge to their bayonets.

Our Generals had given it out that we were as keen as mustard and were spoiling for the fight. This was expressing the matter hyperbolically- that every man was determined to do his duty was the plain, unvarnished way of putting it.

#Final Instalment April 25.

[christine liava'a]

"The Australian Division sailed from Mudros Bay during the afternoon of 24 April, arriving off the landing beach at 1 o'clock the following morning. Here, 1500 men of the 3rd Australian Brigade under the command of Colonel Sinclair MacLagan were to be transferred to lighters and taken in tow. They were to make the initial landing and cover the disembarkment of the rest of the Anzac troops."

Bloody Gallipoli- Richard Stowers

[Geoff S]

Sunday, April 25

Most of us were slumbering when soon after midnight there was a stir. Two destroyers had come silently alongside to convey us to Fisherman’s Hut, a little to the north of Gaba Tepe, on Gallipoli.

D Company of the 12th boarded the Chalmer. My platoon was allotted the open forecastle. As there was a journey of some hours in front of us we lay down on the deck. The Aegean Sea was calm as a mill-pool; low in the west the moon shone bright and clear; the atmosphere was warm and moist. Except for the faint throb of the destroyer’s engines there was perfect silence. Just before the moon dipped into the shining sea, two sailors came round with hot cocoa and tasty biscuits for our frugal breakfast. A mist then began to rise and gradually obscured everything on the face of the waters. Our engines stopped. In the dead silence we could hear muffled voices, and were just able to distinguish the outline of a ship in the fog. A few minutes of intense waiting; faint noises were to be heard. Then, responding to our commander’s orders, the Chalmer went full steam ahead. The race for the beach had begun.

When we pulled up, the gaunt hilly coastline loomed out through the haze. In comparative silence the 3rd Brigade had started to land on the beach. It was still dark. As yet, the Turks kept quiet as mice. Then a tow-flare came hurtling down the cliff and lit up the scene for a few seconds. From the Chalmer we could see our men jumping out of boats and running across the beach. A few more flares, a solitary rifle shot, and the spell was broken. Musketry spluttered—answered by gruff cheering. Then the sound of rifle and machine gun fire increased till it was like the rattle of hail on an iron roof.

The 9th, 10th, and 11th Battalions were rushing at the entrenched Turks and scaling the heights. On the Chalmer, at first, troops could only get away in small coracles. It was now fairly light, and the destroyer was an outstanding target. Bullets were splashing on the ship’s side, zipping through the rigging, or pinging on the decks. A Turkish battery tired to get our range with a few preliminary shells, thereby betraying its position to the British warship. Apocalyptic thunder, volcanic eruption in the vicinity of the battery, and no more shells from that quarter.

By this time a lighter had come along to fetch the soldiers remaining on the Chalmer. We tumbled down into the hold, and sailors with barge poles punted the lighter as near the beach as possible. Jumping over-board, I went up to my chest in water. Handicapped with water-logged impedimenta, it was a desperate struggle to reach dry land. On the beach our platoon officers were picking out their men and placing them in extended order. Captain Lalor was walking along the line with a naked sword in his hand, having thrown away the scabbard. Packs were slipped from our shoulders and dropped on to the sand. Everybody ready, the order to advance was given. While scrambling up the steep slope, a Turkish sniper rushed out from his manhole, throwing up his arms in surrender. Too late! An officer promptly shot him stone dead with his revolver.

Reaching the top, we found ourselves on a down covered with thick scrub and stunted trees. Further on, we met the back-stream of stretcher bearers and wounded trying to discover a passable way down.

Rifle fire had almost died down. Where the 11th had got to was not known to the rank and file of D Company. Led by our officer the 14th platoon took a course in the direction of right incline. Coming to a wide ravine we went down it and toiled up the other side.

On the high ground we halted as we came across a concourse of men apparently, by their colour patches from every battalion in the division. We set down while our officer tried to find out what was doing. It was perfectly quiet now, and the greenhorns were congratulating themselves upon the victory—short and sweet. But veterans of the Boer War said, “Don’t be too sure”!

Seizing the opportunity, most of us started to eat and drink. I took off my tunic and sweater, hanging them on a bush to dry. Most of my biscuits were pulp. Bars of chocolate in my breast pocket were picked with brine. My rifle was a deplorable mess. So I started to clean it, and munched on some dry biscuits I was lucky to pick out from the porridge in my haversack. As for a drink, I allowed myself just a sip from my water-bottle.

Then our officer came back with a staff officer. The latter order the whole lot of us to dig in. Half way through this job Turkish rifle fire came to life again. Their reinforcements were coming up for the counter attack. A company of our machine gunners started firing back over our heads. We were ordered to move forward. A motley throng, with nobody in particular in charge, we had little chance of hanging together. Fourteen platoon stuck close to their officer and kept moving up. Meanwhile rifle and machine gun fire was growing in intensity along the skyline from either direction. At last it got so fierce that we were forced to remain in the shelter of a dip in the ground, while the hurricane of lead swept across the open country. For an hour and more the bullets scream and hissed and zipped in one continuos stream over our heads. Artillery shells also came snarling along, bursting aloft with a puff of white smoke followed by a metallic crash. Some shrieked and buried themselves in the ground. One lobbed so close as to deafen us and spatter us. A tomtit, bewildered by the unusual commotion, chirped a plaintive ditty a few feet from my nose. Bees and insects went about their business. The blazing sun was nearing its zenith in a cloudless sky. All nature—save man—was rejoicing in the glorious sunshine.

When at last a lull came our platoon officer went off again to make enquiries. After waiting in vain for his return for over an hour our corporal decided to move forward. Over the skyline there were wounded and dead mean lying scattered in all directions. In the far distance I could see a sheet of water. As the Aegean Sea lay behind us, I took it to be the Dardanelles.

Round a bend to the left in the down, we encountered some shell-fire. One in particular dropped with a snarl very close. I heard a sound like a huge bumble bee coming straight at me, and felt a blow over the top of my hip-bone as if I had been struck by a sledge hammer. Feeling my leg getting warmer, I slipped my hand within my clothing and felt it wet; withdrawing it I saw it was red with blood. Not till then did I realise that I had been hit by a missile more dangerous than a ricocheting pebble. Opening my clothing I found a small wound near the groin. I concluded that it had not been made by a shrapnel bullet, and, as there was only one opening, that the bullet was lodged somewhere in my thigh. Out came my field dressing; soaking the gauze in iodine I bandaged it on as best I could. Then I sat and thought.

My platoon mates had gone ahead and were out of sight. Pulling myself together, I followed on till I came across a mixed body of men lying in extended order. With them I remained some considerable time. When they rose to move forward I explained to the officer that I had been hit in the thigh and that my leg was getting groggy. He advised me to get it properly dressed at the nearest A.M.C. aid post. Limping down the gully I stumbled upon a squad of A.M.C. men who were sheltering round a spur in the ridge. They told me to make for the beach while I was able to do so.

Down on the beach the scene was one of turmoil and distress. Engineers working in the water were erecting a jetty. Travelling along the strand an Indian mountain battery was shifting its position to take up another at the north extremity of the bay. G.H.Q and base were being established in the immediate vicinity of the Cove. Soldiers were digging shelters in the cliff and trenches along the ridge. But the most noticeable business on the beach was the evacuation of the wounded. Under the close shelter of the cliff hundreds of badly wounded men lay row upon row. Sailors were carrying them across the strand wading waist high to lift them into boats. The hospital ship had rapidly filled up hours ago. In the emergency transports waiting to discharge cargo had to be used as places of refuge. Wounded men able to get about were anxiously waiting for lighters to take them away.

The most conspicuous figure on the beach was the naval officer in charge of traffic. He was working like a veritable Trojan to prevent congestion and delay. The Indian battery had caused an awkward interruption. At any moment the Turkish artillery might succeed in enfilading the beach. So far their shells were over-carrying and falling into the sea or bursting in the air—the drop in to the beach was too sudden. Once the Turks did succeed in shelling the undercliff where the helpless wounded men lay the place would have been turned into a ghastly shambles.

Toward dark a lighter came in as near as possible to take away men who were not altogether helpless. We were rowed the short distance to it in boats. A sailor hoisted me up, and I scrambled down into the hold. When the lighter filled up a pinnace took it in tow. We then had to run the gauntlet of possible shell-fire. As it so happened, very few shells came over at the particular moment. Passing close by a warship, our nerves were jangled and our ears deafened as she suddenly began to bombard the heights inland. Two or three shell-shock patients swooned off into hysterics.

At last our lighter reached the transport Clan McGilveray. Amongst the minority I went up by winch and cradle. Up on deck I was thankful to be handed a blanket, and was satisfied with a drink of water and a hard biscuit. Asking someone to take off my boots I wrapped them up in my tunic to serve as a pillow, and crawled under a lifeboat to pass the night. After lying there for some time, squads of A.M.C men, ship’s crew and other able-bodied men went to the different lifeboats as if boat drill was taking place. Asking what was doing, I was informed that orders had come from general headquarters to effect that every available boat of the various ships lying off the coast was to be manned and held in readiness in case it was decided to withdraw all troops fighting on shore. After hanging in the balance for the best part of an hour the desperate scheme was abandoned.

Then rain began to fall. One of the ships crew came along and helped me to find a more sheltered spot. He took me down below to the alley-way outside the engine-room, brought me a stretcher, and then an engineer gave me a pair of pyjamas. So my luck was in.

The crackle of rifle fire resounded far into the night—as long as I lay awake wondering how my comrades were faring ashore, ruminating on the incidents of the historic day, and brooding over the insignificant part I had been destined to play.

Lest We Forget.

[marina]

Is this all finished now, Geoff? I was really getting into this. Very vivid. Thanks for posting.

Marina

[Andrew P]

Thanks Geoff. Very interesting account. There's still speculation about where Captain Lalor's sword ended up.

[Geoff S]

Marina- Yes that's it short & sweet I am afraid.

Andrew P- I thought Lalor's sword was found in Turkey a few years ago & handed over to the AWM, or was it the Lalor family? - (I remember that CEWB mentions it in Vol 1) - But I cannot remember the story about how it turned up

Cheers

Geoff S