CHAPTER III

GALLIPOLI

(_June 1915—January 1916_)

The situation in Gallipoli on the 1st of June, 1915, was disappointing. Much more had been hoped for than had been accomplished, and the loss incurred for so small a gain had been three times as great as the _maximum_ for which the authorities had made preparation.

After five weeks of toil and struggle, valour and self-sacrifice, unsurpassed in history, no more had been achieved than the securing of a mere foothold on the peninsula. Only incurable “optimists” in England could ignore that fact, but, discouraging though it was, the prospect would have been less gloomy had there been any reasonable hope of a steady inflow of drafts to fill the great gaps in the ranks, and of reinforcements of sufficient strength to permit a breathing-space to the overworked, worn-out remnants of the heroic 29th Division. Instead, the Russian collapse under Hindenburg’s blows in Courland, Galicia and Poland took away all hope of support from the north and east, and set free Turkish divisions in the Caucasus and Asia Minor for employment in defence of the peninsula. Bulgaria, too, was about to join in on the side of her ancient enemy against her former friends; submarine activity had become a very real menace to communications and had deprived the invaders of the support of the heavy naval guns; and the shortage of shells, especially of high explosive, placed them at a great disadvantage. The daily allowance was limited to three rounds per gun, and at times to one round, whereas the French 75’s were firing continuously.

[Sidenote: _The Plan of Battle_]

The casualties of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force already numbered 38,600, and though it was calculated that the enemy had lost at least 55,000 men, the damage done to the defending force was not in proportion to that received by the invading force in view of their relative resources. The difficulties had been underestimated, and the preparations inadequate, and as the present position at Helles was an impossible one, it was necessary to move forward and, by repeated assaults, to push the enemy’s lines farther and farther from the landing-places. With this object in view an attack on a large scale had been planned for the beginning of the month. As a preliminary to this Lieut.-General Hunter-Weston, commanding the 8th Army Corps, held a conference at the Corps Headquarters on May 27, to settle details of an advance along the whole front in order to bring the first-line trenches within assaulting distance of the Turkish trenches. By 11.10 p.m. the movement was reported completed, and the troops were digging themselves in. Casualties had been few, but next morning it was found that in the darkness mistakes had been made and the new line was, in places, from 50 to 150 yards in rear of the positions indicated. On the night of May 28-29 a fresh advance to rectify mistakes was successfully carried out by the 127th Brigade, but this time the casualty list was much heavier.

[Illustration: _GALLIPOLI PENINSULA_

_SOUTHERN ZONE_

MAP SHEWING BRITISH TRENCHES AND TURKISH FRONT LINE]

On June 3 orders for the attack were issued. The French objective was the line of the Kereves Dere Nullah. The first objective of the 8th Army Corps (of which the 42nd Division formed the centre, with the 29th Division and the Indian Brigade on their left, and the R.N. Division on the right) was the main line of Turkish trenches, about 200 yards from the British first line. The second objective was the enemy’s third line.

At 8 a.m. the next morning (June 4) the heavy guns and howitzers would open the bombardment of certain strong positions. At 11.5 a.m. an intense bombardment of the enemy trenches would begin. At 11.20 all guns except those on the approach lines would cease fire, and the infantry would cheer, raise their bayonets above the parapet, as though about to assault, with the object of inducing the Turk to occupy his front trenches, which would be heavily bombarded by all guns and howitzers, the machine-guns firing in bursts as targets presented themselves. At 12 noon the first line of infantry would advance, without firing, to the assault of the first objective, the batteries lifting to range on the trenches farther back. At 12.15 the second wave would advance, pass through the first line, and attack the second objective.

Divisional conferences were held at the Headquarters of the 125th Brigade, and General Douglas issued and explained his orders, and disposed the troops under his command as follows: First wave—two battalions of the 127th Brigade consisting of a half-battalion each of the 7th, 5th, 8th and 6th Manchesters, from right to left in the order named. The objective for this line was the front line of the Turkish trenches. A half-battalion of the 5th Lancashire Fusiliers was to follow in support on the left flank. The second wave consisted of the remaining half-battalions of the 127th Brigade. Their orders were to rush through the front line of Turkish trenches and gain the second objective, which was less than a mile from Krithia. A half-battalion of the 6th L.F., as working party, and the 1st Field Company, R.E., were to follow the first wave; the other half-battalion and the 2nd Field Company were to follow the second wave, to consolidate the lines gained. All the above troops were under the command of Brig.-General Noel Lee. The remaining half-battalion of the 5th L.F. was to form the garrison of the line of trenches held as the firing-line before the attack. The 9th Manchesters were to occupy the second line, which was strengthened by redoubts. The 7th and 8th Lancashire Fusiliers were to be in Divisional Reserve. The 9th Manchesters was the only battalion of the 126th Brigade acting with the Division, the 4th and 5th East Lancashires and the 10th Manchesters being still split up among the skeleton battalions of the 29th Division.

[Sidenote: _Battle of June 4, 1915_]

The bombardment that opened at 8 a.m. on June 4 was the heaviest and most prolonged that the peninsula had witnessed. At 11 a.m. every available gun both on land and sea was firing, including six batteries of four guns each of the famous 75’s, generously lent by the French Commander. These were firing high-explosive shell. The whole Turkish line was enveloped in smoke, and it seemed impossible that any positions could withstand its fury. The village of Krithia and, indeed, the whole of the hillside appeared to be a mass of flame and dust. The plan to cease fire on the front trenches at 11.20 a.m. had the effect intended, and the enemy prepared to meet the expected assault. A hail of bullets swept over the trenches of the 127th Brigade, and a few moments later the renewal of the bombardment caught the Turks as they were manning the trenches or hastening through the communication trenches to reinforce their thinly held front line.

The last half-hour of waiting was a severe test of nerves, and it was a relief both to the imaginative and the stolid when the hour of noon arrived. But the Manchesters had already been proved. The operations of the end of May, the digging in No Man’s Land to push the first line closer to the enemy, while the Turk knew perfectly well what was intended and had been able, by the light of a waxing moon, to thin out the working-parties, had been highly dangerous and trying to the nerves. The losses had been deplorable, but the will to overcome the difficulties and to face the dangers with resolution had prevailed, and had given officers, N.C.O.s and men confidence in one another. Each platoon, each company, knew that it would not let the others down when the big event should come off. And now the hour had struck. Promptly at twelve o’clock the leading wave of the 127th Brigade went over the top for the first time, and advanced steadily and in good order. They were met by devastating rifle and machine-gun fire, but those who escaped the bullets pressed on in a steady line and by bitter hand-to-hand fighting made good their first objective. In places the wire was untouched by the bombardment, and men died cutting it that their comrades might pass through. The second wave followed at the appointed time. Within five minutes the Turkish first-line trenches had been captured, and the second in half an hour, and during the afternoon the fourth line of Turkish trenches had been penetrated. Sappers accompanying the successive waves found and disconnected buried mines, and assisted in the construction of new trenches and the reversal of captured ones. On the left the 29th Division had seized their first objective, but their further advance was checked, as the barbed wire on their left remained undamaged, and the Indian Brigade was held up by this obstacle. The professional soldiers of this division paid generous tribute to the amateurs of the 4th and 5th East Lancashires and 10th Manchesters, who fought with such spirit and determination within their ranks.

On the right, however, an initial success was soon followed by a reverse which had disastrous consequences. The R.N. Division had gone forward with a dash that did credit to these young untrained soldiers, and with a considerable measure of success. On their right the French had rushed a formidable redoubt, called from its shape “the Haricot,” but unfortunately their colonial troops, magnificent in attack, lack the confidence and dogged resolution in adversity that characterize our “native” troops from the Punjab and Nepal. They gave way before a furious bombardment and counter-attack, and the Haricot, once more in Turkish possession, proved a fatal obstacle. With their right flank exposed to the concentrated fire of innumerable machine-guns the Naval Division, cruelly reduced in numbers—one brigade losing sixty officers—were compelled to fall back to their original line, leaving the right flank of the 42nd Division in the air, the gap being 300 yards from front to rear. The Turk possesses individual initiative and resource in full measure, and he was quick to take advantage of the situation. Also, he was amply provided with bombs, whereas at this date our men had none—a serious handicap in close fighting. His bombing parties began to eat their way into this flank, which was also enfiladed by rifle and machine-gun fire, and in spite of the most determined opposition of the Manchesters, of the L.F. who were in support, and of a party of Engineers under Lieutenant Oscar Taunton, who threw back the enemy’s grenades until wounded, the position became critical.

In the meantime the 7th Lancashire Fusiliers had been moved up to the old fire trenches when these were vacated by the second wave, and at 2.45 p.m. two companies of the 8th L.F. were sent to fill the gap between the right of the 127th Brigade and the R.N. Division. At 3.35 p.m. it was seen that the enemy was massing troops in a nullah on this flank, seriously threatening the foremost line. The French Commander had, however, promised to make a fresh attack on the Haricot at 4 p.m., and this, by enabling the R.N. Division to advance, should relieve the pressure. Our Allies were unable, however, to make this attack, and the position of the 7th Manchesters on the right becoming quite untenable, the Divisional Commander, after consulting the Corps Commander, at 6.30 p.m. ordered the withdrawal of the foremost line to the main Turkish trench. The retirement was made with the greatest reluctance; indeed, the few remaining officers had great difficulty in making the men realize that the order to withdraw must be obeyed. The idea of giving up the ground they had won was almost unbearable, for the four Manchester battalions had resolved to hold on to their gains, whatever the cost might be. “C” Company of the 6th Manchesters had penetrated to a considerable distance beyond the bifurcation of the nullahs, but, being enfiladed from the higher ground on the right, found it impossible to retire. Its commander, Captain H. B. Pilkington, was mortally wounded in the head, but, propped up in the trench, he continued to direct and encourage his men. The company was practically wiped out.

The cost had indeed been great. Of the 770 men of the 6th Manchesters only 160 answered to the roll-call that night. A company of the 8th Manchesters which at noon leapt out of the trenches nearly 200 strong, could only muster 18, and from the other units there were similar reports. Early in the afternoon Brig.-General Noel Lee had received a shell-wound in the throat from which he died on June 21 in hospital at Malta. When he fell, Lieut.-Colonel Heys, 8th Manchesters, assumed command, until, an hour later, he was compelled to return to his battalion, as hardly any of its officers were left; and he was killed soon after he rejoined. The last remaining officer of this battalion, Captain Oldfield, was killed shortly after he had organized the withdrawal of the battalion. Lieut.-Colonel Lord Rochdale, 6th Lancashire Fusiliers, was ordered to succeed Colonel Heys, and he remained in temporary command of the 127th Brigade until June 21. The 7th Manchesters had also lost their C.O., Major Staveacre, who had succeeded to the command of the battalion on May 28, when Lieut.-Colonel Gresham was invalided to Malta.

The work of the Battalion Medical Officers and stretcher-bearers was beyond praise, but what can be said of the grit of the wounded! One M.O. records that from the 120 men who passed through his Regimental Aid Post, many being badly wounded and obviously in great pain, he did not hear even a whimper. Much difficulty was experienced in getting the wounded down the crowded and battered trenches and communication ways. The advanced Dressing Station of the 3rd Field Ambulance was in the Achi Baba Nullah, half a mile above Backhouse Post; that of the 1st Field Ambulance was at Clapham Junction. It was a rough journey for wounded men from either of these posts to the Central Clearing Station on “W” Beach; only hand carriage was available for those who could not walk, and there were many casualties among the bearers, though they were not fired upon deliberately. The wounded could not be attended to quickly enough to prevent a line of stretcher cases, waiting to be dressed, forming outside the stations.

The Territorials had proved themselves in the Division’s first pitched battle, not merely with credit, but with distinction. Though the assaulting waves had been exposed to converging fire from higher ground on either flank their attack had been brilliantly successful. At the end of the day the front had only been advanced by 400 yards, yet the Manchesters had gained 1000 yards, and could have advanced still farther. Indeed, there can be little doubt that the Turkish centre had been pierced, and that, had not the troops on their right been compelled to fall back, or had there been reserves to bring forward, they would have seized the high ground behind the village of Krithia, the key to the Achi Baba position. The Division had captured 217 prisoners, including 11 officers.

The 5th of June was mainly given over to the consolidation of the front to meet the expected counter-attack. On the evening of the 5th the first line was still held by the 127th Brigade, but during the night part of it was relieved by the 125th Brigade. There were two weak points—

(1) A pronounced salient where the right of the 42nd Division linked with the left of the R.N. Division. A strong work was in process of formation to strengthen this.

(2) The ground between the Vineyard and the right branch of the Krithia Nullah had many facilities for bringing enfilade and reverse fire to bear on our line. This became the scene of the hardest fighting.

[Sidenote: _Turkish Counter-attacks, June 6, 1915_]

At 3.45 a.m. on the 6th the enemy began to shell our line: at 4.25 a.m. strong bodies of Turks were working their way down the Krithia nullahs. At the same time an attack was delivered on the trenches held by the 8th Manchesters, but this unit had just been reinforced by three platoons of the 7th Lancashire Fusiliers, and the attack was easily repulsed. Some Turks succeeded in getting part of the trench held by the 5th Manchesters, but were driven out again by the combined action of the 5th Manchesters and the 5th Lancashire Fusiliers. At 6.20 a.m. the 88th Brigade, on the left, were obliged to fall back slightly, and as this exposed the left flank of the 5th L.F., they were forced to fall back below the bifurcation of the nullahs. Here they were reinforced by a weak company of the 7th Lancashire Fusiliers. Bombing attacks and bayonet charges continued throughout the morning, and reserves were brought into the front lines until the Divisional Reserve consisted of only 60 men of the 7th L.F. Casualties were heavy, Lieut.-Colonel Fallows of the 8th L.F., and his second-in-command, Major Baddeley, being among the killed. The three battalions of the 126th Brigade should have rejoined the Division on the 5th, but they, too, had been fiercely attacked, and, though suffering severely, were upholding the credit of the Lancashire Territorials. As the 29th Division could not spare any of these three battalions, the Chatham Battalion of the R.N. Division was attached to the 42nd Division at noon on the 6th, and held in reserve.

By 1 p.m. the situation had improved, and the number of Turks in and around the nullahs had greatly diminished. The 5th and 7th L.F. were now ordered to take the offensive; the small redoubt near to the bifurcation of nullahs, which had been captured by the enemy, was attacked and retaken. By the evening of the 6th the enemy’s attack, which had been made in great strength and with much bravery, had been repulsed. His losses had been considerable, and his only gain was the small indentation by the Krithia Nullah. For three days the fight had raged without intermission. Worn-out, hungry, thirsty, sleepless men had fought and dug and fought again until the line had been firmly established and held by the physically exhausted remnants; and the battalions that had suffered most had time to rest and lick their wounds.

On June 7 counter-operations were undertaken after dark with the object of straightening the line from the Vineyard towards the nullah. The attack was divided into three parts, the right being entrusted to 100 men of the 9th Manchesters, and 20 men of the 1st Field Company; the centre and left each to a company of the Chatham Battalion. The 9th Manchesters succeeded, but the left and centre failed to attain their objective. On the night of June 8-9 the 127th Brigade was withdrawn to Corps Reserve, and its place in the firing-line taken by the 126th Brigade, the three detached battalions having rejoined.

The casualties in the 42nd Division during the four weeks amounted to—

Killed. Wounded. Missing. Officers 68 121 6 Other ranks 610 2691 688 --- ---- --- 678 2812 694 === ==== === Total, 4184.

In his Official Despatch, General Sir Ian Hamilton made special mention of the part taken by the 42nd Division in the action of the past few days.

“The Manchester Brigade of 42nd Division advanced magnificently. In five minutes the first line of Turkish trenches was captured, and by 12.30 p.m. the Brigade had carried with a rush the line forming their second objective, having made an advance of 600 yards in all. The working parties got to work without incident, and the position here could not possibly have been better.”

After describing the withdrawal of the R.N. Division, Sir Ian proceeds—

“The question was now whether this rolling up of the newly captured line from the right would continue until the whole of our gains were wiped out. It looked very like it, for now the enfilade fire of the Turks began to fall upon the Manchester Brigade of the 42nd Division, which was firmly consolidating the furthest distant line of trenches it had so brilliantly won. After 1.30 p.m. it became increasingly difficult for this gallant Brigade to hold its ground. Heavy casualties occurred; the Brigadier and many other officers were wounded or killed; yet it continued to hold out with tenacity and grit. Every effort was made to sustain the Brigade in its position. Its right flank was thrown back to make face against the enfilade fire, and reinforcements were sent to try and fill the diagonal gap between it and the Royal Naval Division.... By 6.30 p.m., therefore, the 42nd Division had to be extricated with loss from the second line Turkish trenches, and had to content themselves with consolidating on the first line which they had captured within five minutes of commencing the attack. Such was the spirit displayed by this Brigade that there was great difficulty in persuading the men to fall back. Had their flanks been covered nothing would have made them loosen their grip.”

In a private letter from Sir Ian Hamilton to the Divisional Commander the following sentence occurs: “As a matter of fact I never saw any finer piece of work than that performed by the Manchesters that day.”

[Sidenote: _Appreciation_]

Later on the evening of June 4 this message from the Divisional Commander was conveyed to all ranks—

The following message from Lieut.-General A. G. Hunter-Weston, C.B., D.S.O., received at 8.33 p.m. on June 4, is published for information—

“Please express to the 42nd Division, and particularly to the 127th Brigade, my appreciation of the magnificent work done by them to-day. The 127th Brigade attacked with gallantry, and held on to the objective ordered with tenacity. It was a very fine performance. Please convey this to all the troops of the Division when possible, and tell them that I deeply appreciate their gallant conduct and devotion to their duty. The renown they have gained for the Division will not only reach the ears of all in Lancashire, but throughout the British Empire. I feel sure that the same tenacity will be maintained to-night and throughout the Campaign.”

On the night of June 12-13 the 127th Brigade embarked for a period of rest and reorganization on the island of Imbros. Any who fondly imagined that the term “rest” implied a period of repose and pleasant recreation were soon disillusioned, for fatigue parties were much in request at the Imbros base, and guards had to be provided for the various stores. While there, the men were inspected and addressed by the Commander-in-Chief, who assured them of his appreciation of the Brigade’s gallantry on June 4. Its place in the line was taken by the 155th Brigade, which with the 156th Brigade had arrived at Helles in advance of the Headquarters of the 52nd (Lowland Territorial) Division. When the 127th Brigade returned on June 22 and 23, Brig.-General the Hon. H. A. Lawrence (later Chief of the General Staff in France) took over the command. The 5th and 6th Lancashire Fusiliers and the 10th Manchesters next had their period of rest; the first-named at Mudros and the others at Imbros. When they returned on July 9 and 10, the 7th and 8th Lancashire Fusiliers and the 5th East Lancashires took their turns, the Fusiliers’ period of recuperation being cut down to four days. On July 13 Brig.-General Viscount Hampden assumed command of the 126th Brigade.

Though there were many minor operations during June and July no action on a large scale took place after June 8 on the divisional front. Enemy

## activity was kept down by local counter-attacks and bomb-raids. In one of

the former the 126th Brigade’s attack between the Vineyard and Krithia Nullah on June 18 was anticipated by the enemy, and the 10th Manchesters suffered severely. The first trench raid of the Division was made about this time. Lieutenant Bennett Burleigh, 7th L.F., with six volunteers, crawled up an old communication trench and bombed a small redoubt held by Turkish snipers. The party returned without a scratch, though several men of the 8th L.F., who were giving supporting fire, were killed or wounded. This raid was the more notable in that it took place an hour before noon, and, as was hoped, the Turk was caught asleep. On July 2, the same officer (who was killed in action a few days later) accompanied by two men, went out twice by daylight and once after dark along the Turkish communication trench which ran through the Vineyard, and brought back valuable information. On the 5th the 7th Manchesters helped to repulse a fierce attack on the 29th Division on their left, and the battalion wiped out about 150 of the enemy. On the night of the 10th, Lieutenant O. J. Sutton and Sergeant Grantham, both of the 9th Manchesters, made a daring and successful reconnaissance of a new Turkish trench, and on the following night went out again and ascertained by measurement its exact position.

About the middle of the month the first Monitors arrived, each carrying two huge guns, and before long other strange marine objects appeared—the “blister ships” and the “beetles.” The former were cruisers which even at anchor could ignore the submarine menace, and the latter were motor-lighters with a drawbridge at the bows, and they could carry 500 men to the landings, protected from bullets and shrapnel by the iron decks and sides. The need for such protection increased with the daily evidence of the enemy’s improved supplies of guns and ammunition. On one morning seven hundred shells dropped on Lancashire Landing alone. On July 23 the Division had been reinforced by 47 officers and 1500 other ranks from the second line in England, but these did not nearly make good the losses. The 18th Battery, R.F.A., and the 1/4th E. Lancs (Cumberland and Westmorland) Howitzer Brigade had also arrived from Egypt during the month, and with them Brig.-General A. D’A. King, D.S.O., who was given the command of all artillery in the right-half sector of the Corps. The 5th Battery under Major Browning, and the two guns of the 6th Battery had been continuously in action, and had firmly established the credit of the Territorial Artillery. On July 24 Major-General Douglas had assumed temporary command of the 8th Corps until August 8, the command of the Division during that period being taken by Major-General W. R. Marshall.

[Sidenote: _Battle of the Vineyard, August 6-7, 1915_]

On August 6 the period of comparative inactivity came to an end. The primary purpose of the Gallipoli campaign was to obtain possession of the Narrows, and thus secure command of the Dardanelles and cut off communication with the Asiatic shore. It had been hoped to achieve this by pushing forward from the south, but the original force had been far too small for the purpose. During May, June and July the Turkish garrison had been much increased, and also the supply of guns and shells, and the defences on Achi Baba greatly and most ably strengthened, whereas the British reinforcements and drafts to fill the gaps had been relatively small. There was little prospect of success by a frontal assault from Helles, and the loss that would be incurred by a futile attempt would cripple the Allies and remove all chance of ultimate success. The Commander-in-Chief decided upon an attempt to reach the Narrows at Maidos, five miles across the peninsula from Anzac, the formidable Sari Bair range intervening. A new landing was to be made on August 6 and 7 at Suvla Bay, a few miles to the north of Anzac cove, and it was hoped that the force landed here would seize the northern slopes of the Sari Bair range, while the troops from Anzac would storm the central and southern heights. On August 6 an attack was to be made from the right of Anzac in order to divert attention from both the landing and the true objective; and a vigorous offensive was ordered at Helles, with the object of containing as large a Turkish force as possible within the southern area and of drawing their reserves from the north. There appeared to be good prospects of a decisive success, and hopes were high.

The line of trenches from the Achi Baba Nullah to the Krithia Nullah (both inclusive) was held by the 125th Brigade on the right and the 127th on the left, the 126th being in reserve. The French were on the right of the 125th Brigade and the 29th Division on the left of the 127th. The 5th Manchesters, who were acting in conjunction with the 88th Brigade (29th Division) had for objective a Turkish trench on the right of that Brigade. The bombardment began at 2.30 p.m. on the 6th, and soon H.E. shells could be seen bursting in the trench which the 5th had been ordered to take. At 3.50 p.m. they attacked, but on reaching the objective, found that they had been enticed into a dummy trench, without cover, and exposed to enfilade fire. To prevent the right flank of the 29th Division being left “in the air,” Captain Fawcus, commanding the first line of the 7th Manchesters, was ordered, about 8 p.m., to get into touch. Arriving at a trench which he expected to find occupied by the 88th Brigade, he called out: “Are the Worcesters there?” and was heavily fired upon. Moving to the left he still found the enemy in occupation of the trench, and fell back. On his way to rejoin the second line he came across a small party of the Worcesters and took them with him. The two lines regained the firing-line in the small hours of the morning, having lost 40 men out of 200. That Captain Fawcus returned safely was amazing, his clothes being riddled with bullets.

A few hours later the Battle of the Vineyard began, the bombardment by British and French batteries opening at 8.10 a.m., and increasing in intensity at nine o’clock when the naval guns joined in. The fire on the trenches south-east of Krithia Nullah was both heavy and accurate, but the trenches within the triangle formed by the fork of the nullahs suffered but little. Half a battalion of the 126th Brigade was attached to the 125th Brigade on the right, and another half-battalion to the 127th Brigade on the left. One battalion of the 126th Brigade was to hold the original line. Two batteries of machine-guns assisted by bringing a cross fire to bear on the enemy’s trenches.

At 9.40 a.m., the troops went forward with their usual dash, wearing tin back-plates that could be seen by the artillery “spotters.” On the right the Lancashire Fusiliers gained their first objective, but the 5th and 8th found that their portion was merely a very shallow trench raked by enfilade fire. Parties of the 6th and 7th reached their second objective, but enfilade fire and superior numbers compelled them to fall back. One of the few officers to reach this objective was Major W. J. Law, 7th Lancashire Fusiliers, who took part in all the subsequent fighting in the Vineyard. Soon after 11 a.m. portions of the first objective were retaken by a strong Turkish counter-attack, but the Vineyard remained in our hands. The 5th and 7th L.F. made a gallant effort to recover what had been lost and were partially successful. At 1.30 p.m. another enemy counter-attack in close formation was caught by our guns and brought to a standstill. The Turks suffered severely in counter-attacks upon the Vineyard, and for some hours gave up the attempt in this quarter, but resumed it late at night with no more success. The 5th and 8th L.F. reoccupied a portion of their first objective in the evening. Parties of the 4th East Lancashires and 10th Manchesters gave great assistance both in attack and defence. On the left the Manchesters showed similar dash and determination, but owing to the greater difficulties of the ground between and about the nullahs and to the intricacy of the Turkish trench system, which, with the nests of machine-guns, had escaped our shells, they were unable to hold any of the trenches taken in the initial assault, and their losses were grievous, the attacking lines being mown down by the enemy’s machine-guns.

The casualties during the two days were—

Officers. Other Ranks. Killed 20 203 Wounded 36 770 Missing 24 511

The result was that a tactical point of some importance had been won and held by the tenacity of the 125th Brigade, and that a large Turkish force had been pinned down when urgently needed in the north. The Turks had, indeed, been massing troops in front of the Division as they had intended to attack our lines in force, on the 6th or 7th of August. Sir Ian Hamilton telegraphed to the Corps Commander: “Your operations have been invaluable, and have given the Northern Corps the greatest possible help by drawing the main Turkish effort on yourselves. I was sure you were ready for them to-night. Well done, 8th Corps.”

But though the sacrifice had not been altogether in vain, the advance from Suvla Bay and Anzac had failed, and the conquest of the Dardanelles seemed more remote than ever. And yet for one half-hour it had seemed so near! Of all the many lamentable tragedies of the campaign surely the most dramatic, the most appealing, was that on Chunuk Bair, at dawn on the 9th of August, when companies of the 6th Gurkhas and 6th South Lancashires had stormed the cliffs and driven the Turks headlong before them. From the top of the saddle they looked down upon the promised land. Below them the goal—Maidos, and the Narrows! The way lay open and victory was in sight—was already achieved!—and the Turkish Army in the south would be cut off! But these four hundred men alone of all the Allied troops that landed on the peninsula were destined to view the promised land. Flushed with triumph, Gurkhas and Lancastrians intermingled raced down the slopes after the fleeing Turks. And then the blow fell—truly a bolt out of the blue—a salvo of heavy shells crashing with infernal accuracy into the midst of them, mangling and destroying the exulting victors. Where that salvo came from will probably never be known with certainty, but there can be little doubt that the shells were British. The remnants of the little force could only make for shelter; there was no shelter in front, and the chance had gone, never to return.

[Sidenote: _The first V.C._]

To return to the 42nd Division. In and about the Vineyard held by the 6th and 7th Lancashire Fusiliers, the fighting surged and swayed for several days. The Turk fought gamely, with grim determination, and the casualties on both sides were heavy. The C.O.s of the two battalions had been ordered to remain at their Headquarters in communication with the Brigadier, and the Adjutants, Captains Spafford and Gledhill, held on tenaciously. Spafford was killed, and the order to retire was sent, but Gledhill’s pertinacity got this order withdrawn, and the Vineyard was held. A successful and very gallant stand against great odds was made by “A” Company, 9th Manchesters, on the night of August 7-8, when the first V.C. awarded to the Division was won by Lieutenant W. T. Forshaw, who was in temporary command of the company. Two M.C.s and two D.C.M.s were also won by the company. Forshaw was holding the northern corner of this small oblong with a bombing party when he was attacked by a swarm of Turks who converged from three trenches. For the greater part of two days he kept them at bay, and even threw back, before they had time to explode, the bombs they threw at him. In the words of the Official Report—

“He held his own, not only directing his men and encouraging them by exposing himself with the utmost disregard of danger, but personally throwing bombs continuously for forty-one hours. When his detachment was relieved after twenty-four hours, he volunteered to continue the direction of operations. Three times during the night of August 8-9 he was again heavily attacked, and once the Turks got over the barricade; but after shooting three with his revolver he led his men forward and recaptured it. When he rejoined his battalion he was choked and sickened by bomb fumes, badly bruised by a fragment of shrapnel, and could barely lift his arm from continuous bomb throwing.”

On the 8th and 9th the 126th Brigade relieved the 125th and continued the struggle, and Lieutenant S. Collier, 6th Manchesters, gained the M.C. for a good bit of work on the right of the Vineyard. A trench held by a group of men of the 126th Brigade was fiercely attacked by enemy bombers, and its capture appeared certain. Collier, however, organized and led the defence, and though he had never before handled a bomb, he displayed much aptitude with this weapon; and in spite of persistent attacks, continued throughout the night, the Turks were beaten off. On the night of the 12th the enemy attacked in mass and captured the Vineyard, but the next day were bombed out of it, and it was finally consolidated and held. Throughout the operations the Divisional Engineers had worked and exposed themselves as fearlessly as ever. Their services were continuously in demand, and they had never been found wanting. The bulk of the work on this occasion had fallen on the 1st Field Company. The Signal Company, too, had proved how competent all its branches were. Much of its work is not done in the limelight, and it may be mentioned that the average number of messages passing through the Signal Office daily had been about three hundred. In times of stress this number was greatly increased.

On August 13 the 42nd Division was relieved in the trenches and went into Corps Reserve. The following 8th Army Corps Special Order was issued next day—

“The 42nd Division has now been withdrawn into Reserve after having been in the firing-line for three months without relief. During this time the Division has taken part in three big attacks, and has been subjected to the continuous strain of holding, improving and extending our line and communications under constant fire.

“Though some units have distinguished themselves more than others, the Division has, throughout this arduous period, displayed a dash in attack and a spirit of determination and endurance in defence which is worthy of the best traditions of the British Army. The persistence with which the enemy were held off during the recent determined attack, and part of the ground lost gradually recovered in face of strong opposition, was a fitting conclusion to the period during which the Division has been in front line.

“The Lieut.-General Commanding wishes to express to Major-General Douglas and his staff, as well as to all ranks of the Division, his appreciation of their good work, and he looks forward to seeing them again display the same soldierly qualities in active operations against the enemy at an early date.”

[Illustration: CAPT. FORSHAW, V.C., 1/9 BN. MANCHESTER REGT.]

[Illustration: GULLY BEACH.]

The Division, however, was not destined to enjoy a long period of rest, as orders were received at noon on the 19th to take over the trenches of the Left Section in relief of the 29th Division which had been ordered to Suvla. This was completed by 8.30 p.m. More than a thousand officers and men had rejoined from hospital in Alexandria, and small drafts arrived from England, but the Division was still much below strength; and as reinforcements for the Division practically ceased after August, it is indeed amazing that the units held together in view of the terrible losses through fighting and disease. The second line, from which alone drafts for the Territorials could be obtained, was formed into a Division (the 66th) for employment in France. To all intents this meant that battalions must dwindle into companies and companies into platoons or even sections. But there was no corresponding reduction in responsibility. For instance, a Field Company of twenty or thirty sappers, most of whom would be worn out by overwork and sickness, must still do the work of a hundred fit men. The sappers had not enjoyed even the brief period of rest accorded to other units.

[Sidenote: _Sickness and Pests_]

Enemies more insidious than the Turk, and regarded with far greater detestation, had appeared during the past two months. The ravages of sickness had reduced the fighting strength of the Division more than had the bullets of the enemy. Dysentery and jaundice were rampant, and an epidemic of septic sores ran through the Division. The seasoned veterans fared better than the new reinforcements, who succumbed at an appalling rate. There had been no break in the hot, dry weather. Many of the wells had gradually become defiled, others had run dry, and this no doubt contributed greatly to the amount of sickness. The insanitary conditions inseparable from the type of warfare waged in so confined and exposed a space, the continuous strain exacted from all, the lack of sleep, the tropical heat, the monotonous and unsuitable food, the lice, and, above all, the plague of flies, with which no sanitary measures and precautions could cope, all were in their degree responsible for the deplorable results. The country was one huge grave-yard in which hundreds of corpses of friends and foes lay unburied, and the air was heavy with the stench. Flies clustered in noisome masses on everything that attracted them, on the food and in the mess-tins as these were carried to one’s mouth, on sores, on faces and hands—blue and green monsters too lazy to fly or crawl away, and to kill fifty was but to invite five thousand to attend the funeral. Under such conditions men lived and moved, and even kept a stout heart. Weak and emaciated, they crawled about the trenches, but when work or fighting was to be done they never shirked, and did not give in until compelled to do so. They had by now absorbed some measure of the philosophy of the East, and, borrowing a phrase from the enemy when things seemed at their worst, they encouraged one another with the remark: “Never mind; there’s always to-morrow.” In these days the small “band of brothers” who had come safely through the fighting were drawn closely together, and the rest of the world seemed very remote. The personal inspiration of certain officers and men counted for much, and the memory of the example of zeal and energy and good courage when the prospect was most dreary, set by officers of the Indian Army, in temporary command of units that had lost their senior officers, is gratefully preserved by those who survived. Many officers who left England with the Division gained in no ordinary degree the admiration and affection of their comrades, but the name of Philip Vernon Holberton stands out pre-eminently. His repeated acts of gallantry, his constant thought for others and entire disregard of self, his genial presence and cheery words of encouragement when these were most needed, stimulated weary comrades to carry on hopefully, and made him an inspiration to officers and men alike.[5]

The amalgamation of battalions was put off as long as possible, but later, in October, there was no alternative. The 5th and 8th Lancashire Fusiliers were then combined under Lieut.-Colonel F. W. Woodcock, and the 6th and 7th under Major Alexander; the 5th and 6th Manchesters under Lieut.-Colonel C. R. Pilkington (Lieut.-Colonel Darlington having been evacuated with fever), and the 4th East Lancashires and 9th Manchesters were split up among other battalions.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO GULLY RAVINE AT GULLY BEACH.]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. HEADQUARTERS OF SIGNAL CO. AND 2ND FIELD CO. R.E.]

[Sidenote: _New Ground_]

In the new area, which had previously been held by the 29th Division, now at Suvla, there were many changes, on the whole for the better. The men were not sorry to see the last of Krithia and Achi Baba Nullahs, of the Vineyard and other scenes of carnage. Yet the names conjure up other memories, not wholly painful—of heroic attempt and gallant performance, of courage, self-sacrifice, and devotion to duty unsurpassed in any theatre of war, of cheerfulness in adversity, of enduring friendships, of doggedness and determination, of great pride in the comrades who had fallen, whose graves, marked by biscuit-box crosses, lay thick in the Krithia Nullah beyond Clapham Junction. The Eski, Australian and Redoubt Lines, Wigan, Stretford, and Oldham Roads, Burlington Street, Greenheys Lane, Ardwick Green, Clapham Junction, Cooney’s corner (where it was wise to make good speed), Romani’s Well, which could always be relied upon for a supply of deliciously cool water, the olive-grove beside it, most peaceful and popular of bivouacs—these were seen for the last time, but the memories that cluster about them will never be wiped out. The mention of the names brings back the scene, the sounds, the smells—the gullies thronged with men and animals, the R.A.M.C. carrying the wounded down to the dressing stations, the transport toiling up with rations, the linesmen of the Signal Company coolly and efficiently laying lines and repairing wires under shell and machine-gun fire, the despatch riders driving furiously over ground that no motor-cycle was ever meant to negotiate, those good men of the Zion Mule Corps, the Hindus driving their well-cared for, well-trained and (to them) docile mules, or at rest making chupatties, the smell of wood-fires—and of manure incinerators—the lines of animals, neighing or braying, the dumps, the incessant crack of rifles, and, above all, the flies and the mud.

A new nomenclature had now to be learnt and to be created. Fusilier Bluff, Geoghegan’s Bluff, the Gridiron, the Birdcages, Border, Essex, Hampshire, Lancashire, Douglas, Frith, Ashton, Burnley Streets or Roads soon became familiar signs. The derivation of most of the names is sufficiently obvious, but the “Eski Line” puzzled the men until some genius among them propounded the brilliant theory that “it’s the pet name of one of the Staff-officer’s wives.” As it was understood that he meant “of the wife of one of the Staff-officers,” the illuminating suggestion was adopted as satisfactory, and men were heard to murmur the name _Eski_ ecstatically. Gully Ravine took the place of Krithia Nullah as the main road to the firing-line. The bed of the gully in September and October was deep in loose red sand which made very heavy going for tired troops, but when the mud came one sighed for the vanished sand. The transport was frequently thigh-deep in liquid mud in those evil days. On both sides stretched the horse and mule lines, and stores and dumps were placed at suitable spots. At the last bend of the gully a wag erected a cairn and labelled it _Third Tower_. This was hailed with delight by

## parties changing over, as all men who had trained on the Cairo—Suez Road

understood that the end of their journey was close at hand. A thirty-yard rifle-range was constructed in the ravine for the training of the reinforcements from the third line, who had had little or no experience of the service rifle, and the modest beginning of a Divisional School came into being in one of the small offshoot gullies where Major Fawcus held his bombing-class.

A “rest” was more of a reality in the new area, and it was comparatively safe, but in Gallipoli the word _rest_ held a very different significance from that attached to it at home. It had now become too closely associated with hard work to be really popular, and the _dolce far niente_ illusion had been quite dispelled. It meant heavy fatigues day and night, much digging, the unloading of lighters and the carrying of heavy loads; but a Beach Fatigue had its compensations, for it was possible at times to get a bathe if one was not too fastidious to object to coal-dust and refuse from lighters, nor to the close companionship of the dead horses and mules that floated around. These were constantly being towed out to sea, but the homing instinct, or the current, brought them back again. “W” Beach even boasted a canteen (run by enterprising Greeks), and men who had time to spare and were possessed of patience might, after waiting for hours in a queue, come back with a bit of chocolate and a tin of fruit—rare and precious luxuries. One day would-be purchasers found the military police in possession. The Greeks had been arrested as spies, and were not seen again. In due course the Division ran its own popular canteen on Gully Beach.

As a rest-bivouac Gully Beach was a great improvement upon all previous resorts, and its attractions read like a holiday advertisement. A sea front, excellent bathing in the Mediterranean, superior accommodation on ledges cut in the cliff face—not unlike a colony of sea-birds—and those who applied early enough even got first-class quarters in a hole in the rock. Inside the ravine, where the bends gave complete protection from shell-fire, caves had been dug in the cliff sides, one above the other up to forty feet, and even more in places, above the bed of the gully. By night the illuminations in these irregular tiers of dug-outs, with the black outline of the cliff-tops beyond the highest tier of lights standing out distinct against the star-lit sky, gave the ravine an effect of glamour and romance—almost of sentimental prettiness—that contrasted strangely with the grim reality of day. “Doesn’t it remind you of Belle Vue?” was a comment frequently made by the men, all of whom were familiar with the chief attraction which Manchester provides for strangers. It was possible to walk upright along the coast road (or Marine Parade) past the little colony of the Greek Labour Corps to Lancashire Landing, but this shore road could not be used for wheeled traffic. The sunsets seen from the beach, or, better still, lying among the heather on the cliffs above, were at times gorgeous. Perhaps it was the peace of twilight, the red sun sinking behind the hills of Imbros or snow-capped Samothrace, that turned one’s thoughts and conversation homewards at the evening gatherings, and sharpened the longing for the good times that must surely be coming. Prime favourite of all items at the jolly sing-songs arranged by the various units was “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” and this was generally kept back for the closing chorus. These entertainments were excellent and they did good. Much hidden genius was brought to light, and a store of original and topical humour tapped.

[Sidenote: _Gully Ravine_]

In October a start was made with the construction of winter quarters, in the lower end of the ravine, for the Brigade in reserve, the R.A.M.C., etc. The supply of sandbags had improved and a minute quantity of corrugated iron sheets was rationed out to units.

The Divisional Commander naturally took an interest in the construction of his own quarters, and, among other questions to the sapper employed thereon, he rashly asked about the composition of the mortar used. It is here necessary to disclose a trade secret and state that the mortar depended upon the horse-lines for one of its components. This secret was revealed without any attempt at concealment, and thenceforward the sapper worked unhindered, while the General in the distance wondered what other horrid secrets had been hidden from him.

A certain corporal of the R.E. who was engaged on D.H.Q., had achieved an enviable reputation as one who could deal effectively with both officers and men. To him infantry officers—not merely second-lieutenants, but even field officers—were as clay in the hands of the potter, but when confronted with the Divisional Staff he met his Waterloo. He found that the Staff Officers’ Union demanded—

(_a_) That each officer’s hut should be completely rebuilt without any inconvenience to the officer concerned.

(_b_) That each officer should be treated better than any other officer.

(_c_) That every one’s hut should be begun at once and finished forthwith.

Reluctantly he admitted defeat, and applied to be transferred to work as close as possible to the firing line, “for the sake”—as he put it—“of peace.”

The Staff Officers of the Division could relish a joke at their own expense, and they were as much tickled as any one by the libellous report that the following official scale of rewards paid to Turkish snipers had been discovered: For killing a private, 5 piastres; N.C.O., 10; lieutenant, 25; captain, 50; field officer, 100; Red Tab, court-martial and execution for “assisting the enemy.”

In August there had been a fair supply of vegetables and raisins, but as a general rule the onion was the only vegetable obtainable. A small consignment of strawberry jam actually reached the trenches. By one of those lucky accidents that occur all too rarely the labels had been removed from the tins, and as the happy warrior enjoyed the unaccustomed treat his fancy toyed with the picture of the anguish and indignation of the profiteer and the conscientious objector on learning that their strawberry jam had been sent in error to the brutal soldier, and on being asked if they would take “plum-and-apple” instead. Plum-and-apple was now anathema. No longer would the _poilu_ proffer his delicacies in barter, and even the Senegalese declined to trade. The flies were less fastidious. Cookhouses were now established in Gully Ravine; the battalion _chefs_ made the most of the ingredients at their disposal; and as the nights grew chilly the hot, well-cooked meals were more and more appreciated. Improvization was the crowning art of that weird-looking soldier, the cook, and one essential qualification for the job was the ability to “win” wood. In justice to him it must be admitted that he generally possessed this qualification, and he did good work. Cookhouses were no safer than other spots behind the line, and the cook’s job was not a cushy one. In one cookhouse in the ravine a shell exploded when some dixies of rice were on the fire. The cook, uninjured in body but indignant at the mess made, gazed disgustedly at the debris. His only comment was: “Might have been a b⸺ wedding here!”

Sickness diminished with the coming of the cooler weather, and as health improved moods of depression abated, and the irresponsible cheeriness of the British soldier, in spite of all he had gone through and all that lay before him, shone forth under conditions the reverse of exhilarating. Perhaps the rum-punch had some slight share of responsibility on one occasion. A party of transport men, howling a chorus on their way down the ravine in a drizzling and depressing rain, on being challenged by a sentry at the Eski Line, proceeded to serenade him. The sentry, whose job gave little scope for hilarity, inquired in disgusted tones: “What the ⸺ are you so happy about? Is the war over?”

The unhappy experience of a quartermaster’s storeman provides a moral—or even more than one. He had noticed two delectable rum-jars in the orchard by Pink Farm, with a Scottish sentry posted over them. After profound meditation he decided upon a frontal attack, and, accompanied by a fellow-conspirator, walked up to the sentry and said: “I’ve been sent for the rum for the puir laddies in the trenches. They’ll be awfu’ glaad to get it, and it’ll do them guid.” He then told his colleague—incidentally addressing him as “Jock”—to take one jar while he took the other, and off they went towards the nullah, the sentry appearing quite satisfied, and curiously lacking in that nasty suspicious spirit so prevalent among persons in charge of valuables, and so discouraging to enterprises of this sort. Half-way to the nullah they entered a deep ditch, with the intention of working their way round to the dump, where water was already boiling in anticipation. But the jars were heavy and temptation could no longer be resisted. A cork was pulled out with great care and some difficulty—and they found themselves in possession of two bottles of creosol. Their remarks are unprintable.

[Illustration: GULLY BEACH. DIVISIONAL HEADQUARTERS.]

[Illustration: GULLY BEACH. INDIAN A.T. CARTS.]

[Illustration: GULLY BEACH. QUARTERS OF THE 2ND AND 3RD FIELD AMBULANCES.]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. THE “ROAD” OR RIVER BED.]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. A “DUMP.”]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. HEADQUARTERS 1ST FIELD CO. AND WAY UP TO THE ESKI LINES.]

A new subaltern arrived about this period, and was handed over at the Battalion Dump to the post-corporal, who was on his way to H.Q. in the line. Presently a shell passed overhead, and the corporal explained that “it’s not addressed to us; it’s addressed to t’ beach,” some miles away. The sub., being a bit on his dignity, thought fit to tell the corporal—an ancient member of his battalion, and more in the nature of a family friend than anything else at Battalion H.Q.—that he need not be funny. A little later, probably within range of a deceased mule, the sub. unbent, and said: “Rather queer smell here, corporal?” “Yes, sir,” was the reply, “this is where we bury uz officers.”

[Sidenote: _Mining Operations_]

Instruction in sinking shafts and making galleries had already been given by expert miners. A Mining Company was now formed, extra pay being granted to the men, and it was reasonably expected that this would be filled from the many colliers in the Division. A Staff Officer who was wont to boast that experts could be produced for any kind of job, inspected the company and proceeded to question the men. To the first he said—

“Well, my man, how do you like your task?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad, sir.”

“Extra pay all right, eh?”

“Yes, but you can’t spend it, sir.”

“I suppose the work comes quite naturally to you?”

“No, sir, I’m a solicitor’s clerk.”

The second man was a music-hall artiste, and the third a barber. Much discouraged, the officer ceased to interrogate.

The enemy exploded mines on the 3rd, 15th, 18th, 21st, 22nd and 29th of September, all opposite their trench in front of our right, known as “The Gridiron.” Three of these damaged our parapet, and all caused interference with our field of fire. The repairing of the damage done on September 22 was made possible by the enterprise of bombing parties of the 6th Manchesters under Lieutenant Collier, who kept up a steady hail of bombs from the lip of the crater, where they had little shelter. On the left, at Fusilier Bluff, the Mining Company had got out protective galleries in time to baffle the Turco-German miners.

At first our mining policy had been defensive, but on this same day one of our shafts reached the barricade of a favourite Turkish bombing station. A mine was exploded, the barricade levelled, and a crater forty feet in diameter formed. The sky was darkened by the earth thrown up, and men in support and reserve trenches were covered with the falling clods. Brisk rifle fire from the enemy showed that the trenches were thickly occupied at the time, and their losses must have been considerable. A rush was at once made to the crater and a barricade built across it. Captain Cawley, 6th Manchesters, M.P. for Prestwich, was shot at night by a Turkish sniper, when shooting over the parapet with his revolver, and the crater became known as “Cawley’s Crater.”

On the 17th of October General Sir Ian Hamilton relinquished the command of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force amid universal regret, and left for England. He had won the respect, and indeed the affection, of all ranks of his army, by whom he was regarded as a true friend and comrade, prompt in appreciation and unfailing in sympathy. To General Douglas he wrote: “You and your Division have always been consoling thoughts in the anxious moments we have lived through in common, and I want you to have all the luck in the world.” On Sir Ian’s departure, Lieut.-General Sir William Birdwood assumed temporary command in the peninsula until the arrival of General Sir C. Monro.

During October the South-Eastern Mounted Brigade (dismounted) was attached to the 42nd Division. The Brigade consisted of the East Kent, the West Kent and the Sussex Yeomanry, under Brig.-General Clifton-Browne. It remained attached to the Division until the evacuation, and officers and men proved the best of comrades. A system of fortnightly reliefs was now instituted, the 125th and 127th Brigades holding the right sub-sector, with H.Q. at the zigzag in the Gully; the 126th Brigade and the S.E. Mounted Brigade the left, or coastal, sub-sector, with H.Q. at Gurkha Bluff.

On the west of Gully Ravine the line was advanced by an average of forty yards on a front of 300 yards. In no place was the enemy’s line more than 125 yards from the Division’s trenches, and in places it was less than ten. On the 29th and 30th of October the Turks exploded mines near the Gridiron, blowing in fifteen yards of fire trench, killing two men, and burying six. Three of these were soon extricated, but, in spite of continued efforts, the other three—all miners—were given up for lost. As the Divisional Commander was passing along the trench three days later, he saw to his great delight two of the missing men being brought from the mine-shaft on stretchers. The third, Private Grimes, 5th Manchesters, though obviously on the border of collapse, stoutly refused to be carried. These men had had no food for three days and only one bottle of water between the three. It was largely due to the determination and grit of Private Grimes that they had had the dogged persistence to dig through twelve feet of earth with the aid of one pocket-knife, and so win to safety.

The month of November was not marked by military events of special importance, our constant activity having chastened the enemy’s offensive spirit. Reports from Turkish prisoners indicated that the thorough training that had been given in the bombing school had contributed largely to this result. Mining was very active, and the divisional miners now held the upper hand. On the 25th the enemy injected through a hole in one of the galleries an aromatic gas, which affected the eyes, but not the lungs. Parties of three or four hundred officers and men from each Brigade were sent, in relief, to a newly formed Training School at Mudros for two or three weeks at a time, and derived much benefit therefrom.

[Illustration: Y RAVINE. LOOKING DOWN TO THE SEA.]

[Illustration: IN THE FRONT LINE. MAN USING A PERISCOPE.]

[Illustration: IN THE TRENCHES. AN ENTRANCE TO A MINE SHAFT.]

[Illustration: SHELTERS TO PROTECT HORSES FROM SHELL FIRE.]

[Illustration: IN THE FRONT LINE. LOOKING DOWN FUSILIER BLUFF TO THE SEA.]

[Illustration: IN THE TRENCHES. MAKING TEA.]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE.]

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. STRETCHER BEARERS.]

[Sidenote: _Floods and Frost_]

During the first half of November there had been occasional heavy showers and some frost. On the 15th-17th a violent storm, accompanied by a deluge of rain, drove the sea higher and higher up the shore, swamping the bivouacs on the beach. In the Gully conditions were even worse. Bales of hay, sacks of bread, drowned mules, were washed down the ravine into the sea. On the night of the 26th a still fiercer storm raged in the peninsula, a storm as disastrous to the combatants as any that ever affected armies in the field. The flood-gates of heaven indeed opened, and at Anzac and Suvla the trenches were quickly waist deep, and the current swept down like a mill-race—kit, equipment, rations, even men, being washed away. In places the trenches filled, and the troops must drown or stand on the top, a sure target for the Turk had he not been in a like predicament. As in a prairie fire or other of Nature’s more appalling manifestations, the beast of prey and its natural victim flee side by side, or cower together, so Briton and Turk regarded one another as fellow-sufferers rather than as implacable enemies. The gale became a hurricane; the crash of thunder, the blinding flashes of lightning, heightened the sense of catastrophe, and the bitter cold made it the more unbearable. Piers and landing-stages were destroyed and the beaches strewn with wreckage. During the 27th the rain came down steadily; then the wind veered to the north and brought snow and cruel blizzards. A hard frost followed, and at Anzac and Suvla men were frozen to death; others lost their limbs—some their reason—and cases of frost-bite were very numerous. In the south the conditions were less disastrous than further north, but the suffering of the troops was intense. Altogether about 10,000 sick had to be removed from the peninsula as an outcome of the four days’ tragedy. When the floods subsided Gully Ravine was a bed of deep mud, and its passage—a vital matter to the Division—could only be accomplished with infinite labour.

The activity of the hostile artillery increased as superior guns and munitions of war arrived from Germany, and the bombardments became more accurate and deadly. On December 14 Lieutenant W. R. Hartley, 7th Lancashire Fusiliers, led a patrol with great boldness and judgment close up to the Turkish trenches and located the entrance of a mine-shaft in the Gridiron, only six yards from a crater occupied by our men. Captain A. W. Boyd, of the same battalion, accompanied by Corporal W. Downton and Privates F. Mottershead and C. Bent, volunteered to carry out the destruction of this mine-head on the night of the 15th. Unobserved by the enemy they succeeded in placing a charge of forty pounds of gelignite in position in the Turkish trench, the charge being laid by Mottershead, who had originally discovered the mine-shaft. In addition to the electric wire a thin rope was attached so that a slight jerk would cause the charge to fall into the shaft; and as it was essential that the rope should be laid in a straight line Mottershead had to return to his trench _over_ the Turkish barbed wire and in full view of the enemy. This was successfully accomplished; the rope was jerked, and the charge fired. On the following night Lieutenant Hartley (killed three days later) ascertained that the entrance to the shaft had been completely filled. Mottershead was awarded the D.C.M., and the gallant act was specially mentioned in 8th Corps Orders, the last paragraph of which stated that: “This enterprise is only part of the good work that has been done recently by this battalion under the command of Major W.J. Law, and the keenness and energy displayed are deserving of all praise.”

Lord Kitchener had visited the peninsula in the middle of November, and on his return to England had reported in favour of evacuation. On December 8 General Monro issued orders to evacuate Suvla and Anzac, and on the 16th the withdrawal of 80,000 men, nearly 5000 animals, 2000 vehicles and 200 guns began. The highest estimate of probable loss that might be incurred in this most difficult and critical of operations was fifty per cent.; the lowest, fifteen per cent. Preparation was made at Mudros to accommodate from 5000 to 10,000 wounded, yet the evacuation was carried out without loss. It was one of the finest and most wonderful achievements of this or any other war, and all ranks shared the credit—though in very different degrees—from General Birdwood down to the humblest Indian mule driver.

Two minor operations were arranged for December 19 to take place simultaneously with an advance of the 52nd Division by the Krithia Nullah and the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac. Mines were laid at the Gridiron and at the east end of Fusilier Bluff. The intention was to take advantage of the explosions to establish bombing stations in the craters formed. The “jam-tin” bombs were now obsolete, and those used were the Mills and “cricket-ball” types. The task at the Gridiron was assigned to the 125th Brigade, the troops attacking being drawn from the 7th Lancashire Fusiliers, with some of the 1/2nd (West Lancashire) Field Company, R.E. The 6th Battalion held the original line and supplied catapult parties to fire from behind. Major Law was to have directed operations, but this able and gallant officer was killed two hours before the time fixed for the attack, and Captain Gledhill assumed temporary command of the 7th Battalion, Captain Boyd being in charge of the attacking party. The artillery gave strong support. The mine was exploded on the far side of a great crater which had a Turkish and English trench on either side. The explosion blew in the enemy trench and extended the crater, which the attacking party crossed, and then pressed down the horns of the Turkish trench and constructed barricades. By 6 p.m. the new line was well established in spite of rifle fire and enfilade fire from machine-guns. A Turkish attack at 9.40 p.m. succeeded in driving our men out, but Captain Boyd with great resource and promptness organized a counter-attack, and within fifteen minutes the lost ground had been retaken and a further gain made. In fact, the bombing parties had to be restrained from going too far down the enemy trenches in pursuit. A lot of work had to be done to make the crater tenable, and assistance was sent. A bomb team of the Sussex Yeomanry did remarkably good work in consolidating the left trench under heavy machine-gun fire, which continued all night. By daylight they had succeeded in deepening and sandbagging the trenches and in digging through from Cawley’s Crater into the new one. Of two mines laid only one had exploded at first, but after the counter-attack our men were withdrawn into safety and the second mine was fired. It caught a number of Turks who were seen pressing up a sap, probably with the intention of counter-attacking again. Lieut.-General Sir Francis Davies, the Corps Commander, telegraphed his congratulations and gave permission for the new crater to be called officially “Boyd’s Crater.”

[Illustration: GULLY RAVINE. THROUGH THE MUD.]

[Illustration: LIEUT. SMITH, V.C., 1/5 BN. EAST LANCASHIRE REGT.]

Similar operations at Fusilier Bluff were not, however, successful.

## Parties of the 9th and 10th Manchesters, supported by bombers of the 5th

East Lancashires and the W. Lancs. Field Company, R.E., went forward pluckily, and several got within a yard or two of the enemy trench, but had to be withdrawn. The retirement was effected with coolness and judgment by Lieutenant Simpson, R.E., who, though wounded, checked a bayonet rush of the enemy. The casualties in both places amounted to one officer and twelve men killed and four officers and eighty-seven men wounded. The artillery and trench mortars gave valuable assistance throughout. The following message from General Birdwood, Commanding the Dardanelles Army, was received on the morning of the 20th December: “Well done, 42nd Division!”

[Sidenote: _The second V.C._]

On the 22nd December Lieutenant Alfred Victor Smith, 5th Battalion East Lancashire Regiment, dropped a bomb when in the act of throwing it. It fell to the bottom of the trench in which were a number of men. He shouted a warning, and he himself got into safety, but, seeing that the others could not, he returned and threw himself on the bomb just as it exploded. He was killed instantly, but his comrades were saved. It is not too much to say that the account of this act of heroic devotion sent a thrill through the Empire, and there was general satisfaction with the decision to confer the V.C. after death. The 126th Brigade was justly proud of the fact that both V.C.’s so far gained by the division had been won by officers of its battalions.

Christmas festivities were held on different dates by the various units according to their positions in the line or in reserve. Taking into consideration the adverse conditions that prevailed, an excellent bill of fare was provided—roast beef, plum-pudding with rum sauce, a pint of beer for each man, and various delicacies from canteen stores. Christmas day was bright and frosty, and the Divisional Band turned Gully Ravine into a pleasure resort by playing Christmas carols at appointed spots in the ravine. One battalion thought that greater delicacy might have been shown in the choice of carols. They had been relieved from the front line on Christmas Eve, and had just settled down in “rest” bivouacs near Gully Beach to a much-needed sleep, when, in the early hours of Christmas morning, they were ordered to turn out and move to a distant bivouac far up the ravine. As they put on their equipment in a most unchristian frame of mind, the band started to serenade Divisional Headquarters with “Christians Awake!” and as the men prepared to move off the tune changed to a less familiar air. “What are they playing now?” asked an officer. “‘God rest you, merry gentlemen,’” came the reply in a voice choked with emotion. With twilight a silence fell. No gun fired, no rifle cracked, until the moon showed over the shoulder of Achi Baba, when missiles of destruction of every kind, from the cricket-ball bomb to the giant shells from monitors out at sea, pitched into the enemy lines.

Hostile aircraft, both bombing and observation planes, had greatly increased in number since the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac, the Turks being naturally anxious to learn what was happening at Helles. A note attached to an old bomb was thrown from the enemy trenches into the trenches occupied by the Sussex Yeomanry. It contained this message: “Good-bye, Sussex Yeomanry. Sorry you can’t stay, but we’ll meet again on the Canal.”

The Turk was not looked upon with the blend of amusement (at his egregiousness) and detestation (of his manners and brutality) with which the Boche was regarded by all who came in contact with him. Rather was he respected as a brave foeman and esteemed as a sportsman. Among other things to his credit, he had treated wounded prisoners well and had respected the Red Cross flag. The flag of the Advanced Dressing Station at “Y” Beach was in full view of the Turks for three months, but there was no shelling and no casualty from shells. When the Field Ambulance of the South Eastern Mounted Brigade took over in December, the Union Jack was hoisted _in addition to_ the Red Cross flag. The change was made at midnight, and promptly at dawn the Turks opened fire. The first two shells were short; then came three “overs,” and the sixth—and last—brought down the flag-pole. The Medical Officer who records the above also testifies that during a long and heavy bombardment of “Y” Ravine hostile shells were dropping all along the tracks in the vicinity of the Advanced Dressing Station, the shooting being “dead accurate,” but not one shell came within sixty yards of the Red Cross flag that flew over the Dressing Station.

[Sidenote: _The Evacuation_]

Rumour had had little rest since August, 1914, yet she remained very vigorous and active. She had been particularly busy in Helles since the evacuation of the northern landings. To obtain ready credence, the rumour-monger must support his theory with convincing circumstantial evidence, as, for example, that he had been told by a friend, whose platoon-sergeant’s brother was a batman at Divisional Headquarters, that there had been a terrible increase in the slaughter of the staff chickens. The 8th Army Corps Special Order of the Day, issued on December 20, reassured those who regarded evacuation as an admission of defeat, and, it must be confessed, disappointed those who felt that the object of the landings on Gallipoli had already been defeated and that they could therefore serve a more useful purpose elsewhere. The Order indicated that there was no intention to abandon Helles. Confirmation of a resolve to retain a hold on the peninsula appeared in the shape of the arrival off Helles of transports carrying fresh troops, the 13th and the veteran 29th Divisions; and now Rumour whispered of still another attempt to march across Achi Baba. But on December 27 and 28 innumerable fatigue parties were detailed to collect all stores and baggage at dumps for transport to the beaches, as the 42nd Division was to be relieved at once by the 13th Division under Major-General Stanley Maude. With much labour the baggage was taken to “V” Beach, only to be ordered to “W” Beach.

At 5 p.m. on the 29th the remnants that were left of the once proud battalions of East Lancashire Territorials moved off on their last march in Gallipoli—a sorry procession. The distance to “V” Beach from which most of the men embarked was about five miles, much of it through deep mud, and it was sheer grit that pulled them through, for their frames were wasted and enfeebled through sickness, exposure and unceasing strain; their feet, sodden through weeks of standing in muddy and water-logged trenches, were tender and painful; they were, it is true, quitting the scene of much misery and suffering, but they were not leaving as victors. Though they had done and endured all that was possible their object remained unachieved, and they were depressed by the sense of failure. Not unreasonably they felt that the Territorials had been neglected by the authorities at home—that had drafts been supplied in full measure from their second line they might have won through. At the date of the first landing, again on June 4, and again in August when the ambitious advance was made from Anzac and Suvla, victory had been in sight, and the lack of reserves had robbed the Dardanelles army of the triumph for which they had paid so heavy a price.

On arrival at the crowded beach they awaited their turn to board the “beetles.” The French had a number of haystacks on the shore, and had posted a sentry to give warning of the coming of the shells by blowing a horn the instant that he saw the flash from an “Asiatic Annie” across the Straits. The bursting of the shell had been timed to follow the flash by twenty-three seconds, so the sounding of the horn was the signal for a rush to the haystacks or other available cover. These were seconds of extreme tension until the crash came and men realized that they at any rate had respite for a time; though in the dark it was impossible to know what damage had been done elsewhere. Piers were struck and great gaps made as parties were about to cross. Throughout the long night the embarkation proceeded, most of the men crossing the hulk of the _River Clyde_.[6] The wind was rising, and the transfer from the lighters to the larger transports was made dangerous by the roll of both vessels, and much argument ensued between the Royal Navy and the Mercantile Marine. In due course it was accomplished and, as the dawn showed pink in the east, the convoy steamed away towards Mudros. Eight months ago nearly 14,000 Lancashire Territorials had disembarked on the inhospitable shores which were now receding. The Division that left Gallipoli barely numbered 5000, though every battalion and unit had received drafts from the second and third lines in England, or from Egypt, and thousands of casualties had rejoined from hospital. Few of the 14,000 who had landed in May with such high hopes and in such good spirits, took part in the last melancholy parade to the beaches, or sailed on this December day to Mudros, but those few thought of what might have been, and of the great-hearted comrades and brothers-in-arms whom they had left behind. Many now lay in the cemetery above Lancashire Landing, a glorious resting-place from which, when alive, they had looked out upon the intense blue of the Ægean Sea, with the peaks of Imbros and Samothrace to the west, to the south and east the coast of Asia Minor and the straits, and direful Achi Baba to the north; others had been buried where they fell. Soon the lovely blossoms of the rock-rose and the gorgeous poppy would be covering their graves.

Perhaps to none of the survivors would these memories be more poignant than to two of the padres, the Rev. E. T. Kerby, M.C.,[7] and the Rev. F. W. Welbon, M.C., who had been untiring and absolutely fearless in giving comfort to the dying, in performing the last rites under fire, and in sharing the dangers and privations of the men in the front line.

The Divisional Artillery remained behind, and also a small detachment of Engineers and the 1st and 3rd Field Ambulances, all attached for duty to the 13th Division. The more modern guns must first be saved, and as each battery was withdrawn a battery of the old 15-pounders of the 42nd Division was substituted, so there was no cessation of fire during the day. For several nights no artillery fire was permitted between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m., in order to accustom the Turk to quiet nights with little or no firing. When the final evacuation took place three of the old guns were taken away successfully and the remainder destroyed. Some of the gunners and the greater part of the R.A.M.C. left a few days before the curtain fell on the final scene of the great tragedy of Gallipoli. The last men of the 42nd Division—and among the very last of the allied forces—to leave the peninsula were detachments of artillery and R.A.M.C. and a small party of Engineers.

On the 7th of January the last fight was fought on Gallipoli. After seven hours’ heavy bombardment the Turks attacked, but they found the front line more heavily manned than it had been for months past, and the attack failed. Probably they were surprised by the vigour of their repulse, as they must have been convinced by now that the Helles force was in process of evacuation. It is likely that the strong opposition encountered led the Turk to believe that the British departure was less imminent than he had hoped, and that he would have to wait a little longer before he could catch his enemy on the run. If his suspicions were lulled in this way it was fortunate that he chose for his attack the day immediately preceding the final evacuation. Heavy casualties were inflicted on both sides, and the East Lancs R.A.M.C. men were hard at work without a pause from 5.30 p.m. to 3.30 a.m. on the 8th. Their good work in attending to the wounded of the 13th Division brought them the personal thanks of General Maude, who also sent a letter of appreciation to the Divisional Commander. Lieutenant R. Hartley, R.F.A., distinguished himself and upheld the Division’s reputation, by putting out a fire, which had started in a wagon full of ammunition, at great personal risk.

[Illustration: LANCASHIRE LANDING SHORTLY BEFORE THE EVACUATION.]

About noon on January 8 orders were received to destroy everything that could be of use to the enemy, and an orgy of destruction began. Huge dumps were made, or added to, the largest of these being at “W” and “V” Beaches. Hundreds of cases of bully beef, condensed milk, biscuits, and other rations, ammunition that could not be taken away, limbers, wheels, and anything else that would burn, were piled up, and the mass soaked in paraffin. Many horses and mules had to be shot, to the bitter grief of their drivers.

Preparations were made for the firing of the dumps at daybreak on the 9th, some hours after the hour fixed for the embarkation of the last batch of troops. As in the case of so many of the “innovations” of the Great War—steel helmets, breastplates, catapults, darts, hand-grenades, for instance—a time-honoured device was resorted to. Candles were left burning in tins, their rate of burning having been carefully timed, so that when the flame should reach a certain point it would ignite a train of oil and waste, which led to a mass of combustible material placed around and among the wooden cases. By means of a similar artifice fixed rifles in the firing-line continued to pop off at irregular intervals in order to delude the Turk into the belief that the trenches were still occupied.

A walk up Gully Ravine and the Mule Trench to the front line in the afternoon of January 8 provided new and strange sensations. Practically all the fighting troops were in or close up to the firing-line, the support and reserve lines and the usually crowded billets at Geoghegan’s Bluff, the Eski lines, and similar spots being completely deserted. One could walk half a mile without meeting anything other than one of the limbers told off to trundle up and down the tracks in order to give the enemy the impression that traffic was still normal.

[Sidenote: _The Last to Leave Gallipoli_]

Late at night the troops began to leave the firing-line. When they had passed, the men in the second line filed out, and after them followed the small parties—each of one officer and four men—of the East Lancashire R.A.M.C. to pick up stragglers and assist any sick or injured. Last of all came the handful of sappers who had charge of the closing of the gaps in the entanglements of Gully Ravine. In places the enemy trenches were only fifteen yards from the British line, and it seemed too much to expect that the Turks should remain in ignorance of the complete departure of the opposing army.

The night was pitch dark. The men moved along the communication ways and passed through the gaps with a seeming deliberation and slowness that was most irritating to the more imaginative, whose nerves were on edge. There is some comfort in a crowd, though it may be more liable to panic. The handful of R.A.M.C. and R.E. who toiled in the rear were dominated by one thought—how many hours or minutes would go by before the Turk would discover that the British trenches had been deserted, and that he would simply have to follow swiftly to cut off all stragglers and perhaps capture or destroy the greater part of the retreating army? These were the most trying hours that the Lancashire men had ever known. “If ever man knew terror, I knew it that night,” said one of the officers, and the others admitted that his experience was theirs no less. It cost them a real effort to appear calm and collected, and to talk to their men in tones of apparent unconcern. No sound pierced the stillness of the night save the occasional crack of a Turkish rifle, or of one of the fixed rifles left in the trenches, and now and then the bursting of a shell on one of the southern beaches.

The last party to arrive at Gully Beach found that the lighter which should have taken them off, was on a reef. “Saturday night, and we’ve missed the last train home!” sighed one of the men, as, in the small hours of the morning of the 9th, they set off along the shore road to “W” Beach, where the last two lighters, already packed like tins of sardines, awaited them. R.A.M.C. men and sappers got on board—one of the former complaining that the night had passed without the promised excitement—and as they steamed away the dump on the beach went off with a most appalling din. As a spectacle it was magnificent, the entire stretch of coast being lit up; and immediately the Turks awoke to the situation, “went mad,” and began to shell the whole of the Helles portion of the peninsula furiously and indiscriminately.

Thus, on the 9th of January, 1916, the last men of the 42nd Division left Gallipoli. Yet is much of the ground in the south-western extremity of that peninsula still held for Lancashire by thousands of her best and bravest, who, in the bloom of youth or prime of manhood, died fighting cleanly and without hatred for love of country, faith in her cause, and the honour of their corps.

LIST OF GALLIPOLI CASUALTIES, M.E.F. (LAND FORCES, NOT INCLUDING FRENCH)

Killed, 28,200; Wounded and Missing, 89,349 117,549 Sick (of whom a large number died) admitted to Hospital 96,683 ------- 214,232 =======

Casualties of the 42nd Division in Gallipoli: 395 officers, 8152 other ranks, killed, wounded, and missing.

##