Gallipoli Diary Volume I Part 19

These lofty strategical questions must not make me forget an equally vital munitions message just to hand. I have cabled K. twice in the past day or two about sh.e.l.ls. On the 1st instant I had said, "I still await the information promised in your x. 4773, A. 5, of 19th instant. In my opinion the supply of gun ammunition can hardly be considered adequate or safe until the following conditions can be filled:--(1) That the amounts with units and on the Lines of Communication should be made up to the number of rounds per gun which is allowed in War Establishment figures of 29th Division. (2) That these full amounts should be maintained and despatched automatically without any further application from us, beyond a weekly statement of the expenditure which will be cabled to you every Sat.u.r.day. (3) In view of the number and the extent of the entrenchments to be dealt with it is necessary that a high proportion of high explosive sh.e.l.l for 18 pounder and howitzers be included in accordance with the report of my military advisers."

We now have his reply:--

"No. 5088, cipher. From Earl Kitchener to Sir Ian Hamilton. With reference to your telegrams No. M.F. 281 and No. M.F.G.T. 967. We cannot supply ammunition to maintain a 1,000 rounds a gun owing to the demands from France, but consignments are being sent which amount to 17 rounds per gun per day for the 18 pounder and 4.5.-inch howitzer; this is considered by General Joffre and Sir John French as necessary. As much as possible of other natures will be sent. As regards quant.i.ties, you will be informed as early as possible. As available, H.E. sh.e.l.ls will be sent for 18 pounder guns and howitzers."

If we get 17 rounds per gun per day for the 18 pounders and 4.5 howitzers we shall indeed be on velvet. To be given what satisfies Joffre and French--that sounds too good to be true. So ran my thoughts and Braithwaite's on a first reading. Then came the C.R.A. who puts another light on the proposal and points out that the implied comparison with France is fallacious. We are undergunned here as compared with France in the proportion of 1 to 3. I mean to say that, in proportion to "bayonets" we have rather less than one third of the "guns."

_Therefore_, if we were really to have munitions on the scale "considered necessary by General Joffre and Sir John French," we ought to have three times 17 rounds per day per gun; i.e. 51 rounds per day per gun. But never mind. _If we do get_ the 17 rounds we shall be infinitely better off than we have been: "and so say all of us!" Putting this cable together with yesterday's we all of us feel that the home folk are beginning to yawn and rub their eyes and that ere long they may really be awake.

_4th June, 1915. Imbros._ Left camp after breakfast and boarded the redoubtable _Wolverine_ under that desperado Lieutenant-Commander Keyes.

The General Staff came alongside and we made our way to Cape h.e.l.les through a blinding dust storm--at least, the dust came right out to sea, but it was on sh.o.r.e that it became literally blinding.

On the pier I met Gouraud who walked up with me. Gouraud was very grave but confident. My post of command had been "dug out" for me well forward on the left flank by Hunter-Weston. In that hole two enormous tarantulas and I pa.s.sed a day that seems to me ten years. The torture of suspense; the extremes of exaltation and of depression; the Red Indian necessity of showing no sign: all this varied only by the vicious scream of sh.e.l.l sailing some 30 feet over our heads on their way towards the 60 pounders near the point. A Commander feels desperately lonely at such moments. On him, and on him alone, falls the crus.h.i.+ng onus of responsibility: to be a Corps Commander is child's play in _that_ comparison. The Staff are gnawed with anxiety too--are saying their prayers as fast as they can, no doubt, as they follow the ebb and flow of the long khaki line through their gla.s.ses. Yes, I have done that myself in the old days from Charasia onwards. Yet how faintly is my anguish reflected in the mere anxiety of their minds.

Chapters could be written about this furious battle fought in a whirlwind of dust and smoke; some day I hope somebody may write them.

After the first short spell of sh.e.l.ling our men fixed bayonets and lifted them high above the parapet. The Turks thinking we were going to make the a.s.sault, rushed troops into their trenches, until then lightly held. No sooner were our targets fully manned than we sh.e.l.led them in earnest and went on at it until--on the stroke of mid-day--out dashed our fellows into the open. For the best part of an hour it seemed that we had won a decisive victory. On the left all the front line Turkish trenches were taken. On the right the French rushed the _"Haricot"_--so long a thorn in their flesh; next to them the Anson lads stormed another big Turkish redoubt in a slap-dash style reminding me of the best work of the old Regular Army; but the boldest and most brilliant exploit of the lot was the charge made by the Manchester Brigade[19] in the centre who wrested two lines of trenches from the Turks; and then, carrying right on; on to the lower slopes of Achi Baba, had _nothing_ between them and its summit but the clear, unentrenched hillside. They lay there--the line of our brave lads, plainly visible to a pair of good gla.s.ses--there they actually lay! We wanted, so it seemed, but a reserve to advance in their support and carry them right up to the top. We said--and yet could hardly believe our own words--"We are through!"

Alas, too previous that remark. Everything began to go wrong. First the French were sh.e.l.led and bombed out of the _"Haricot"_; next the right of the Naval Division became uncovered and they had to give way, losing many times more men in the yielding than in the capture of their ground.

Then came the turn of the Manchesters, left in the lurch, with their right flank hanging in the air. By all the laws of war they ought to have tumbled back anyhow, but by the laws of the Manchesters they hung on and declared they could do so for ever. How to help? Men! Men, not so much now to sustain the Manchesters as to force back the Turks who were enfilading them from the _"Haricot"_ and from that redoubt held for awhile by the R.N.D. on their right. I implored Gouraud to try and make a push and promised that the Naval Division would retake their redoubt if he could retake the _"Haricot"_. Gouraud said he would go in at 3 p.m. The hour came; nothing happened. He then said he could not call upon his men again till 4 o'clock, and at 4 o'clock he said definitely that he would not be able to make another a.s.sault. The moment that last message came in I first telephoned and then, to make doubly sure, ran myself to Hunter-Weston's Headquarters so as not to let another moment be lost in pulling out the Manchester Brigade. I had 500 yards to go, and, rising the knoll, I would have been astonished, had I had any faculty of astonishment left in me, to meet Beetleheim, the Turk, who was with French in South Africa. I suppose he is here as an interpreter, or something, but I didn't ask. Seeing me alone for the moment he came along. He had quite a grip of the battle and seemed to hope I might let the Manchesters try and stick it out through the night, as he thought the Turks were too much done to do much more. But it was not good enough. To fall back was agony; not to do it would have been folly.

Hunter-Weston felt the same. When Fate has first granted just a sip of the wine of success the slip between the cup and lip comes hardest. The upshot of the whole affair is that the enemy still hold a strong line of trenches between us and Achi Baba. Our four hundred prisoners, almost all made by the Manchester Brigade, amongst whom a good number of officers, do not console me. Having to make the Manchesters yield up their hard won gains is what breaks my heart. Had I known the result of our fight before the event, I should have been happy enough. Three or four hundred yards of ground plus four hundred prisoners are distances and numbers which may mean little in Russia or France, but here, where we only have a mile or two to go, land has a value all its own. Yes, I should have been happy enough. But, to have to yield up the best half--the vital half--of our gains--to have had our losses trebled on the top of a cheaply won victory--these are the reverse side of our medal for the 4th June.

Going back we fell in with a blood-stained crowd from the Hood, Howe and Anson Battalions. Down the little gully to the beach we could only walk very slowly. At my elbow was Colonel Crauford Stuart, commanding the Hood Battalion. He had had his jaw smashed but I have seen men pull longer faces at breaking a collar stud. He told me that the losses of the Naval Division has been very heavy, the bulk of them during their retreat. From the moment the Turks drove the French out of the _"Haricot"_ the enfilade fire became murderous.

On the beach was General de Lisle, fresh from France. He is taking over the 29th Division from Hunter-Weston who ascends to the command of the newly formed 8th Army Corps. De Lisle seemed in very good form although it must have been rather an eye-opener landing in the thick of this huge stream of wounded. How well I remember seeing him galloping at the head of his Mounted Infantry straight for Pretoria; and my rage when, under orders from Headquarters, I had to send swift messengers to tell him he must rein back for some reason never made clear.

_5th June, 1915. Imbros._ Best part of the day occupied in a hundred and one sequels of the battle. The enemy have been quiet; they have had a belly-full. De Robeck came off to see me at 5.30, to have a final talk (amongst other things) as to the Enos and Bulair ideas before I send my final answer to K. If we dare not advertise the detail of our proposed tactics, we may take the lesser risk of saying what we are _not_ going to attempt. The Admiral is perfectly clear against Bulair. There is no protection there for the s.h.i.+ps against submarines except Enos harbour and Enos is only one fathom deep. After all, the main thing they want is that I should commit myself to a statement that if I get the drafts and troops asked for in my various cables, I will make good. That, I find quite reasonable.

_6th June, 1915. Imbros._ A very hot and dusty day. Still sweeping up the _debris_ of the battle. Besides my big cable have been studying strengths with my A.G. The Battalions are dwindling to Companies and the Divisions to Brigades.

The cable is being ciphered: not a very luminous doc.u.ment: how could it be? The great men at home seem to forget that they cannot draw wise counsels from their servants unless they confide in them and give them _all_ the factors of the problem. If a client goes to a lawyer for advice the first thing the lawyer asks him to do is to make a clean breast of it. Before K. asks me to specify what I can do if he sends me these unknown and--in Great Britain--most variable quant.i.ties, Territorial or New Army Divisions, he ought to make a clean breast of it by telling me:--

(1) What he has.

(2) What Sir John French wants.

(3) Whether Italy will move--or Greece.

(4) What is happening in the Balkans,--in the Caucasus,--in Mesopotamia.

After all, the Armies of the Caucasus and of Mesopotamia are not campaigning in the moon. They are two Allied Armies working with me (or supposed to be working with me) against a common enemy.

The first part of my cable I discuss the cause which led to the disappointing end to the battle of the 4th already described and then go on to say, "I am convinced by this action that with my present force my progress will be very slow, but in the absence of any further important alteration in the situation such as a definite understanding between Turkey and Bulgaria, I believe the reinforcements asked for in my No.

234 will eventually enable me to take Kilid Bahr and will a.s.suredly expedite the decision. I entirely agree that the restricted nature of the ground I occupy militates against me in success, however much I am reinforced; that was why in my Nos. M.F. 214 and M.F. 234 I emphasized the desirability of securing co-operation of new Allied Forces acting on a second line of operations. I have been very closely considering the possibility of opening a new line of operations myself, _via_ Enos, if sufficient reinforcements should be available. The Vice-Admiral, however, is at present strongly averse to the selection of Enos owing to the open and unprotected nature of anchorage and to the presence of enemy submarines. Otherwise Enos offers very favourable prospects, both strategically and tactically, and is so direct a threat to Constantinople as to necessitate withdrawal of Turkish troops from the Peninsula to meet it. Smyrna or even Adramyti which are not open to the same objections are too far from me, but the effect of entry of a fresh Ally at either place would inevitably make itself felt before very long in preventing further ma.s.sing of the Turkish army against me, and perhaps even in drawing off troops; a considerable moral and political effect might also be produced, and all information points to those districts being denuded of troops.

"With regard to the employment of the reinforcements asked for in my No.

M.F. 234, General Birdwood estimates that four Brigades are necessary to clear and extend his front sufficiently to prepare a serious move towards Maidos. I should therefore allocate a corps to the Australian-New Zealand Army Corps as the other two brigades would be required to give weight to his advance. The French Force as at present const.i.tuted, and the Naval Division which has been roughly handled, would be replaced in front of the line by the other corps. This reinforcement to be exclusive of any help we may receive from Allied troops operating on a second line of operations so distant as Smyrna.

"With reference to your last paragraph I have no alternative, until Achi Baba is in my possession, but to keep reinforcements on islands or elsewhere handy. I have made arrangements at present, however, for one Infantry Brigade and Engineers of the Lowland Division on the Peninsula, one Infantry Brigade at Imbros and the remaining Infantry Brigade at Alexandria to be ready to start at 12 hours' notice whenever I telegraph for it. Besides all the reasons given above, no troops in existence can continue fighting night and day without respite."

Three weeks have pa.s.sed now since I asked for two British Corps or for Allies and still no reply or notice of any sort except that message of the 3rd instant expressing doubts as to whether any good purpose will be served by sending us help "at once." Well; there hasn't been much "at once" about it but I have not played the Sybilline book trick or doubled my demand with each delay as I ought perhaps to have done. Now I think we are bound to hear something but I can't make out what has come over K. of K. In the old days his prime force lay in his faculty of focusing every iota of his energy upon the pivotal project, regardless (so it used to appear) of the other planks of the platform. A "side show" to him meant the non-vital part of the business, _at that moment_: it was not a question of troops or of ranks of Generals. For the time being the interests of an enterprise of five thousand would obliterate those of fifty. No man ever went the whole hog better. He would turn the whole current of his energy to help the man of the hour. The rest were bled white to help him. If they howled they found that K. and his Staff were deaf, and for the same reason, as the crew of Ulysses to the Sirens.

Several times in South Africa K., so doing, carried the Imperial Standard to victory through a series of hair's breadth escapes. But to-day, though he sees, the power of believing in his own vision and of hanging on to it like a bulldog, seems paralysed. He hesitates. Ten short years ago, if K.'s heart had been set on Constantinople, why, to Constantinople he would have gone. Paris might have screamed; he would not have swerved a hair's breadth till he had gripped the Golden Horn.

_7th June, 1915. Imbros._ Left camp early and went to Cape h.e.l.les on a destroyer. On our little sandbag pier, built by Egyptians and Turkish prisoners, I met General Wallace and his A.D.C. (a son of Walter Long's). Wallace has come here to take up his duty as Inspector-General of Communications. About ten days ago he was forced upon us. He is reputed a good executive Brigadier of the Indian Army, but we want him, not to train Sepoys but to create one of the biggest organizing and administrative jobs in the world. His work will comprise the whole of the trans.h.i.+pment of stores from the s.h.i.+ps to small craft; their dispatch over 60 miles of sea to the Peninsula, and the maintenance of all the necessary machinery in good running order. The task is tremendous, and here is a simple soldier, without any experience of naval men or matters, or the British soldier, or of Administration on a large scale, or even of superior Staff duties, sent me for the purpose. We want a competent business man at Mudros, ready to grapple with millions of public money; ready to cable on his own for goods or gear by the ten thousand pounds worth. We want a man of tried business courage; a man who can tackle contractors. We are sent an Indian Brigadier who has never, so far as I can make out, in his longish life had undivided responsibility for one hundred pounds of public belongings. I cabled to K. my objection as strongly as seemed suitable, but he tells me to carry on. He tells me to carry on and, in doing so, throws an amusing sidelight upon himself. Into his cable he sticks the words, "Ellison cannot be spared." K. believes that my protest _re_ Wallace has, at the back of it, a wish to put in the Staff Officer he took from me when I started. He doesn't believe in my zeal for efficiency at Mudros; he thinks my little plan is to work General Ellison into the billet.

Certainly, I'd like an organizer of Ellison's calibre, but he had not, it so happens, entered my mind till K. put him there!

Landing at "W" Beach, I walked over to the 9th Division and met Generals Hunter-Weston, de Lisle and Doran. As we were having our confab, the Turkish guns from Asia were steadily pounding the ridge just South of Headquarters. One or two big fellows fell within 100 yards of the Mess.

After an A.1 lunch (for which much glory to Carter, A.D.C.) visited Gouraud at French Headquarters. Going along the coast we were treated to an exciting spectacle. The Turkish guns in Asia stopped firing at Headquarters and turned on to a solitary French transport containing forage, which had braved the submarines and instead of trans.h.i.+pping (as is now the order) at Mudros, had anch.o.r.ed close to "V" Beach. After several overs and unders they hit her three times running and set her on fire. Destroyers and trawlers rushed to her help. Bluejackets boarded her; got her fire under control; got her under steam and moved out. The amazing part of the affair lay in the conduct of the Turks. Having made their three hits, then was the moment to sink the bally s.h.i.+p. But no; they switched back once more onto the Peninsula, and left their helpless prize to make a leisurely and unmolested escape. Anyone but a Turk would have opened rapid fire on seeking his target smoking like a factory chimney, ringed round by a crowd of small craft. But these old Turks are real freaks. Their fierce courage on the defensive is the only cert about them. On all other points it becomes a fair war risk to presume upon their happy-go-lucky behaviour. If this crippled s.h.i.+p had been full of troops instead of hay they would equally have let her slip through their fingers.

I stayed the best part of an hour with Gouraud. He can throw no light from the French side upon the reason for the strange hesitations of our Governments. As he says, after reporting an entirely unexpected and unprepared for situation and asking for the wherewithal to cope with it, a Commander should get fresh orders. Either: we cannot give you what you ask, so fall back onto the defensive; or, go ahead, we will give you the means. Taking leave we came back again by the 29th Headquarters where I saw Douglas, commanding the 42nd Division. Got home latish. As I was on my way to our destroyer took in a wireless saying that submarine E.11 had returned safely after three fruitful weeks in the Marmora.

A most singular message is in:--

"(No. 5199).

"From Earl Kitchener to General Sir Ian Hamilton.

"With reference to your telegram No. M.F. 301, instead of sending such telegrams reporting operations, privately to Earl Kitchener, will you please send them to the Secretary of State. A separate telegram might have been sent dealing with the latter part about Doran."

May the devil fly away with me if I know what that means! Braithwaite is as much at a loss as myself. No one knows better than we do how much store K. sets on having all these messages addressed to him personally.

There's more in this than meets the common or garden optic!

Very heavy firing on the Peninsula at 8 o'clock; a ceaseless tremor of the air which--faint here--denotes tremendous musketry there.

CHAPTER X

A DECISION AND THE PLAN

_8th June, 1915. Imbros._ We are getting "three Divisions of the New Army"! The Cabinet "are determined to support" us! And why wouldn't they be? Thus runs the cable:--

"(No. 5217, cipher). Your difficulties are fully recognized by the Cabinet who are determined to support you. We are sending you three divisions of the New Army. The first of these will leave about the end of this week, and the other two will be sent as transport is available.

"The last of the three divisions ought to reach you not later than the first fortnight in July. By that time the Fleet will have been reinforced by a good many units which are much less vulnerable to submarine attack than those now at the Dardanelles, and you can then count on the Fleet to give you continuous support.

"While steadily pressing the enemy, there seems no reason for running any premature risks in the meantime."

In face of K.'s hang-fire cable of the 3rd, and in face of this long three weeks of stupefaction, thank G.o.d our rulers have got out of the right side of their beds and are not going to run away.

The first thing to be done was to signal to the Admiral to come over. At 2 p.m. he and Roger Keyes turned up. The great news was read out and yet, such is the contrariness of human nature that neither the hornpipe nor the Highland Fling was danced. Three weeks ago--two weeks ago--we should have been beside ourselves, but irritation now takes the fine edge off our rejoicings. Why not three weeks ago? That was the tone of the meeting. At first:--but why be captious in the very embrace of Fortune? So we set to and worked off the broad general scheme in the course of an hour and a half.

Just as the Admiral was going, Ward (of the Intelligence) crossed over with a nasty little damper. The Turks keep just one lap ahead of us. Two new Divisions have arrived and have been launched straightway at our trenches. At the moment we get promises that troops asked for in the middle of May will arrive by the middle of July the Turks get their divisions in the flesh:--so much so that they have gained a footing in the lines of the East Lanes: but there is no danger; they will be driven out. We have taken some prisoners.

Dined on board the _Triad_. Sat up later than usual. Not only had we news from home and the news from the Peninsula to thresh out, but there was much to say and hear about E.11 and that apple of Roger Keyes' eye, the gallant Nasmith. Their adventures in the sea of Marmora take the s.h.i.+ne out of those of the Argonauts.

Coming back along the well-beaten sandy track, my heart sank to see our mess tent still lit up at midnight. It might be good news but also it might not. Fortunately, it was pleasant news; i.e., Colonel Chauvel, commanding 1st Australian Light Horse Brigade, waiting to see me. I had known him well in Melbourne where he helped me more than anyone else to get the hang of the Australian system. He stays the night.

_9th June, 1915. Imbros._ A cable saying the new Divisions will form the 9th Corps and asking me my opinion of Mahon as Corps Commander. I shall reply at once he is good up to a point and brave, but not up to running a Corps out here.

Have been sent a gas-mask and a mosquito-net. Quite likely the mask is good bizz and may prolong my poor life a little bit, but this is problematical whereas there's no blooming error about the net. This morning instead of being awakened at 4.30 a.m. by a cl.u.s.ter of house-flies having a garden party on my nose I just opened one eye and looked at them running about outside my entrenchments, then closed it and fell asleep again for an hour.