GALLIPOLI

(continued).

The first night (12th-13th Sept.) in the trenches was not without serious mishap. Lieut. F. E. Jensen, who had seen service in the South African War, and was one of the most promising of the junior officers, was shot through the face when standing on the firestep instructing one of his platoon. He died a few hours later.

The hours of darkness were punctuated by short bursts of machine gun fire and occasional rifle shots at movement, or suspected movement, on the other side. Now and then one of our guns would send a shell over towards the Turks. Subsequent experience showed that at night time the enemy rarely replied to these, as he feared that the flashes from his artillery would disclose his positions and thus afford an opportunity to the watching Navy with its heavier weapons.

Every soldier in the front trenches was alert. Post commanders moved about supervising, and the attached New Zealanders imparted useful information in regard to trench warfare methods, such as how to outwit the wily Turk; the essential discipline; and precautions to ensure safety to the individual. Opportunity of gaining an acquaintance with No-Man’s Land was afforded through the necessity of examining and repairing the protective wire entanglements, which were thrown out in front and consisted of a few strands of barbed wire and French wire very imperfectly secured. Now and then senior officers passed down the forward trench intent on seeing that the general plan of defence was being adhered to.

Dawn brought increased activity. At that hour the then accepted hour for an attack every man in the Battalion was awake and stood at his post fully armed and equipped. This state of readiness was referred to in “orders” as the “Stand To,” and was observed morning and evening. Thus the soldier remained until some 30 minutes later, when the order “Stand Down” was passed along. On such occasions the absence of fuss and noise in movement, it is generally agreed, is an indication that a unit is well disciplined. One of our battalions momentarily went astray in this respect, and its men in the front trenches, early one morning, were treated to an unexpected touch of humour on the part of the enemy, from whose locality a voice, in more or less perfect English, was heard calling “Stand to, th Battalion!”

To the 28th the “Stand Down” brought some relaxation, both mental and physical, as the rising of the sun restored sight to the sentries and imparted increased confidence to the whole. Light revealed rather a marked change in the appearance of individuals. The chill of the night air had impelled many to put on their greatcoats. Some had even donned their Balaclava caps, which, showing only the eyes, nose, and mouth of the wearer, and surmounted by a hat or cap, gave a grotesque effect. Clothing smeared with earth, eyes bloodshot for want of sleep, and scrubby chins disclosed the need and benefit of, amongst other things, a wash. Water for this was, however, not available except in small quantities, and the man was lucky who secured one that day. The next best thing was a meal, and this consisted of army biscuit and tinned meat (bully beef) washed down by a small quantity of tea, which the Quartermaster had sent up hot but which reached those who needed it in a lukewarm condition.

Following that was the cleaning up of the trenches. This consisted of collecting all scraps of food, empty tins, bits of paper, etc., and removing from the floor the debris that had fallen from the walls, or parapet and parados, during the previous 24 hours. Then came attention to rifle and bayonet, which were to be kept free of obstruction and rust. The reserve ammunition and bombs, some of which were open to the air, had also to be wiped free of verdigris and dust so that they would not jam or clog when required for use. This daily cleaning up had become almost a fetish in the army, but it undoubtedly engendered habits of orderliness thereby promoting efficiency, and also had a material effect on the health of the individual by keeping down the flies, which would swarm around any tins or other receptacles which had contained food, or any of the food itself.

This day brought the Battalion for the first time under direct artillery fire. It was the enemy’s custom to indulge in a “hate” morning and afternoon. This would take the form of a bombardment of from 20 to 80 rounds of 77 millimeter shrapnel and high explosive shells. Large calibre guns were not directed on the Apex whilst the Battalion was stationed there. With the high explosive projectiles was used a percussion fuse, and these were intended more for the demolition of works than man killing. Actually they did little damage and, except on one occasion when a direct hit was secured in a machine gun emplacement, no one was injured. Shrapnel was used in a different manner, and was far more dangerous. The fuse was for time, and the range and fuse were so harmonised that the shell burst in the air, short of and above the target, thus allowing the bullets it contained to sweep forward and downward, spreading out fan-like as they progressed. Many of the small missiles thus entered the trenches, but by keeping close to the forward wall of the excavations immunity from damage was generally secured to the individual. Occasionally the Turk threw in a few rounds from a mountain gun which he had secreted somewhere on the slope of Sari Bair. These simply whizzed through the air and buried themselves in the earth without doing any damage to either man or trench.

The 28th stood its baptism of fire well, and was more curious than alarmed at the noise, smoke, and earth upheavals caused by the enemy’s action. Some of the men early disclosed the possession of the “souvenir” habit by collecting specimens of the shrapnel pellets. Unfortunately that portion of the Battalion in reserve, not being under any cover except a slight fold in the ground, sustained a few casualties by wounds.

Early in the morning the Brigadier paid a visit to the lines and was indefatigable in his zeal for the safety of the position and the welfare of his command. Throughout the short period of his stay on the Peninsula his characteristics in this respect were most marked and, for a man of his advanced years, the wonders he achieved in hill climbing, and the risks he ran from enemy snipers, were a subject of frequent comment.

About noon the Battalion made the acquaintance of Sir William Birdwood, who went through the trenches accompanied by Sir Alexander Godley and a staff officer. His attractive personality, unassuming manner, and his kindly and tactful inquiries, instantly earned the regard of the newcomers. A particular incident which occurred that morning may serve to illustrate his general attitude. He came to a Western Australian and a New Zealander standing together. To the W.A. man he said, “Are you 28th?” Receiving an affirmative answer the General placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and remarked, “We are very glad you’ve come. You know what your comrades of the 1st Division have done, and we know that, when the time arrives, you will do the same.” Then placing the other hand on the Maori’s shoulder, he concluded, “And you can show him how to do it, can’t you?”

Of a different disposition, the Divisional Commander contented himself, during his first visit, with merely observing and asking a question here and there. His subsequent visits were frequent and seldom welcomed by the rank and file, who found him awe-inspiring and hypercritical. He was, however, known to unbend and show generous appreciation of honest effort and good work. On rare occasions he unexpectedly revealed the possession of a sense of humour.

Other visitors came on this first day. From the 10th Light Horse, which was located near the Sazli Beit Dere; from the 11th and 12th Battalions, holding the line far down on the right; from the 16th Battalion, awaiting embarkation for Lemnos Island, where they were to have a well-earned rest; and from the 8th Battery, also with the 1st Division. These came to see relatives and friends in order to exchange news of home and of pals who had gone under or been wounded. With the advent of the 2nd Division began a system of transfer of individuals of one unit to another whereby an elder brother, say, in the 11th Battalion, could apply for permission for a younger brother who had arrived in the, say, 28th Battalion, to join him. If the younger brother was agreeable to the change, approval for the transfer was seldom withheld.

When the line was “quiet” the men were enabled to examine the enemy’s positions with the aid of periscopes. No signs of movement could be discerned, but the long lines of trenches rising tier above tier on the opposite hillsides indicated how difficult would be the task should a further advance be ordered. The observers on Nos. 2 and 3 Posts mostly concentrated their attention on the ground in the vicinity of the Pinnacle. From there a sniper was taking shots at any object which appeared above our parapets or at a loophole. Very rapid and accurate as he was, it was soon found that a certain amount of skill was required to camouflage and look through a periscope without having one’s eyes destroyed with broken glass. A small Union Jack, mounted on a stick less than half an inch in diameter, was cut down at the sniper’s first attempt.

In No-man’s Land, in front of the two posts mentioned, could be seen the remains of a trench dug by the New Zealanders in their August advance. This they had been compelled to abandon together with their dead comrades who lay about, still unburied, rapidly decomposing in the sun which yet retained the strength of summer. Picks, shovels, rifles and equipment also littered the landscape. Within our own area there were likewise grim reminders of the fight. Here and there a limb protruded through the wall of a newly cut trench, whilst in other places a piece of biscuit box, or a rifle stuck into the earth muzzle down, both bearing a name written in indelible pencil, indicated the last resting place of some fallen comrade.

From No  4 Post the observer could look down on “The Farm.” This was a spot on the side of Chunuk Bair at the head of the Aghyl Dere, and had formerly been cultivated. Now the Turk had commenced to entrench across it, and was apparently working on it under cover of darkness. Beyond, to the north, running up over the ridge (Kiretch Tepe Sirt) which bordered the Gulf of Xeros, could be seen the whole of the line held by the 54th Division and IX. Corps. The principal features were Hill 60 (Kaijak Aghala), W Hills (Ismail Oglu Tepe), the village of Anafarta Sagir, Chocolate Hill, the salt lake near Suvla Bay, and the bay itself with the hill Lala Baba on its southern side.

The support of the Royal Navy was further manifested by the presence in the Bay, behind the IX. Corps, of a cruiser and some smaller craft. From one of these a sausage-shaped balloon occasionally ascended some few hundred feet and afforded observation of the enemy’s rear lines. A glance down the ravine of the Chailak, between Bauchop’s Hill and Table Top, revealed H.M.S. “Grafton,” a second class cruiser, anchored about two miles from the shore, whose 9.2 and 6-inch guns supplied a powerful backing to the weak artillery of the Anzac Corps.

September 14th did not pass without loss. That morning witnessed the deaths of Sergt. F. W. Ball and two other members as the result of shrapnel fire. Later in the day another member succumbed to wounds. Snipers also levied their toll of those moving about where the reserve was situated. In consequence of this a move was made to a more sheltered quarter and the unsafe dugouts were evacuated. On the 16th there were two further fatal casualties.

During the next two days the men became more accustomed to their life and surroundings. Those in the front trench had by far the easier time. Those in support had to handle the pick and shovel in the works for the improvement of the position. Digging was hard. The conglomerate-like composition of the soil resisted the shovels and turned the points of the picks. Recourse was had to the Navy, who supplied a small forge for the sharpening of the latter. Thus to other noises was added that of the hammer on anvil. The reserves were utilised by the Brigade and Division for works in rear of the position. The demands of the Engineers seemed never ending and were often in excess of the number of men available. This caused considerable confusion and irritation followed by requests from the Division for explanations as to labour not being forthcoming. These requests had usually to be met by lengthy and involved “returns” which very few people understood and which served no useful purpose except to temporarily alleviate the strain. As a rule the exasperating situation was restored next day. Nor was the necessity for the work at first apparent to the men. They thought they came to fight with the bullet and bayonet only. But enlightenment came and one experienced miner voiced it, after a solid week on excavating, when he said “I have just discovered I have been a blanky soldier all my life.”

Long hours of hard work usually induce sound sleep at night, but with the platoons in support this happy condition was difficult to achieve. A few had “bivies” excavated in the walls of the trenches, but most men had only the floor of the trench upon which to lie. Here, clothed in their overcoats and wrapped in their single blankets, they slumbered only to be rudely awakened now and then by the pressure on some part of their anatomy of the feet of a passenger to or from the front line. On dark nights careless senior officers when going their rounds were treated to loud and homely descriptions of themselves which in daylight and cold blood would scarcely even have been whispered to a comrade. In the front trench, where the garrison was relieved by the supports every 24 hours, sleep was, theoretically, not to be thought of. However, the normal man felt that at some time during the 24 hours it was good to close his tired eyes if only for a few minutes. After all, a seat on a sandbag, and a good solid wall against which to rest one’s back, did give a little comfort. The officer in making his tour of inspection would ask a question here and there and occasionally mount the firestep and talk with the sentry. Usually the noise of his approach was sufficient to ensure alertness on his entering a bay that was manned, but, now and then, stertorous breathing and the attitude of the sentry, as revealed by his silhouette against the light of the moon or stars, would indicate that the flesh had momentarily vanquished the spirit. The touch of a hand was sufficient to restore wakefulness. Apropos of this, a senior officer, rather irritable at the moment, once touched an apparently sleeping sentry on the knee, at the same time asking the question “Look here! Are you asleep?” He was rather confounded at receiving the undoubtedly truthful answer “No, Sir.”

At 4.30 p.m. on the 18th September, the Turks suddenly commenced a heavy bombardment of the position and back areas. Shrapnel and high explosive were supported by rifle and machine-gun fire at a rapid rate. A glance in the direction of Suvla revealed a sight resembling an exhibition of gigantic chrysanthemums the white smoke of bursting shrapnel, before dissipating, closely resembling that flower in form. Here and there columns of black smoke and earth would suddenly spring into existence indicating the arrival and explosion of large calibre shells. Everything pointed to some important move on the part of the enemy. Orders were instantly given for the garrison to “stand to” and the reserves to move up in close support. These orders were obeyed with alacrity. All ranks were eager and the answer to the oft-repeated question, “What are we here for?” seemed to be at hand. Rifles and revolvers were loaded, grenades served out, and the New Zealanders manned their machine guns. Within a minute or two of the opening of the bombardment our own guns commenced to reply on the enemy trenches. For a time the noise was deafening a regular babel of sounds through which, in spite of the crashing of shells, could be distinguished the tapping of machine guns and the swishing of bullets in flight. However, the enemy stuck to cover. Whether or not he intended to make a demonstration only is not clear, but information received later from Suvla showed that a few officers had jumped on to the parapet and waved their swords in the apparent vain attempt to lead their men, who, whilst shouting loudly, were reluctant to leave the safety of the earthworks. In half an hour the firing died down, and normal conditions were resumed. The Battalion had suffered no casualties and had demonstrated its steadiness under sustained fire.

On Sunday, 19th September, a party consisting of one officer from each battalion of the Brigade made a tour of inspection of the Lone Pine position and the trenches running down to Chatham’s Post on the extreme right. Additional parties went on the 21st and 23rd. These tours were arranged for instructional purposes, and were valuable aids to acquiring a knowledge of trench warfare methods. Further, they gave the participants many ideas on the use that could be made of ground and of the wonders performed by the troops who made the original landing on 25th April.

At dusk the Maoris assembled just below the Apex. Divine service was conducted by their own chaplain in the Maori tongue, but in accordance with the Church of England liturgy and with the orthodox intoning. The scene was an impressive one, and will not easily be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Other gatherings for worship were held when circumstances permitted, but, as a rule, senior officers objected to their men gathering in numbers when so few spots in the limited area behind the lines were not exposed to shell fire. Chaplains, therefore, had to visit the individual members of their flocks wherever they could find them. This meant much hill climbing and the running of considerable risk from gun and rifle fire. Many a padre acquired great merit by his unselfishness and disregard of danger. Should casualties have occurred during the day, small knots of people might be seen at night down near the beach, or on some other exposed slope, reverently interring a comrade who had fallen. Here the padres performed the last offices for the dead.

Early in the morning of the 20th occurred one of those incidents which have often been narrated but seldom authenticated. Private G. J. Owen, whilst standing on the firestep observing, felt a blow on the chest. On an examination of his clothing it was found that a bullet had penetrated his greatcoat and jacket, and also a wallet in his jacket pocket, and finally spent itself in the centre of a small Bible that he was in the habit of carrying with him. Owen was quite uninjured and has, since his return to Australia, published his own story.

This day the Pinnacle was heavily shelled by our 6-inch howitzers in an attempt to demolish the Blockhouse and a small redoubt behind it. Both works were looked upon as serious obstacles to possible future operations locally.

“C” Company having been in the line for seven days, was relieved by “B” Company and moved into a reserve position. The following evening “A” Company similarly relieved “D” Company.

On the 21st September two enemy shells accounted for five of the Western Australians. This day Sir Ian Hamilton visited the Brigade, but as the climb was steep, and the sun hot, he did not ascend to the Apex. In his “Gallipoli Diary” he thus records his impressions “saw the new Australian Division very fine fellows. Bullets were on the whistle and ‘the boys’ were as keen and happy as any real schoolboys. Memories of the Khyber, Chitral and Tirah can hardly yield samples of a country so tangled and broken. Where the Turks begin and we end is a puzzler, and if you do happen to take a wrong turning, it leads to Paradise. Met various Australian friends a full blown Lord Mayor many other leading citizens, both of Melbourne and Sydney.”

The next day brought trouble for the Battalion, the enemy’s shrapnel killing three and wounding 10 or 11. Sergt. J. Hodgson was also fatally shot through the chest by a bullet, which entered the trench through a crevice near a loophole. Most of these casualties were suffered by “D” Company in reserve, and as the whole of the upper part of the Dere now seemed to be searched by the Turkish fire, the reserve company was moved lower down to ground in the vicinity of that occupied by the 27th Battalion. During the first days, a good deal of this fire was attracted by the men, in disregard of repeated orders, foolishly exposing themselves on the open spaces. At that time they had little knowledge of distances, of the searching effect of shrapnel and machine gun fire, or of the powers of observation possessed by the enemy. Moving about in their blue cardigans their khaki jackets being discarded when not in the trenches they afforded an easily distinguishable mark for the hostile gunner. Later on wisdom, born of experience, preserved many lives or limbs. Before leaving Egypt, the Brigadier had said, in a manner that caused his audience some grim amusement, “No one doubts your bravery, but you should not take unnecessary risks. If you do, you may only get wounded and thus become a heavy expense to the Government.”

About this period, the Corps Commander directed the commencement of tunnelling operations at the Apex. It was intended to drive under the enemy’s works and, when the time was ripe, blow them and their occupants into the air. As the 28th had many miners in its ranks, it was asked to supply the labour which would be applied under the direction of the Engineers. Lance-Sergeant E. A. Arundel, who had been a mine manager on the Goldfields, was placed in charge of the party. The work was carried on for many weeks before the party was relieved. Eventually, a mine was blown here on the night of the final evacuation by the Australians.

The 22nd September also saw the return of Lieut. Davey’s platoon from Canterbury Slope, it having been replaced by one from the 25th Battalion.

Next day the Battalion was interested in the arrival of the first specimen of the “broomstick” bomb. No casualties resulted. Some activity developed on the left of the IX. Corps front, where an artillery duel continued for some time. The warships in the Bay joined in but eventually the gunfire died down. Outbursts of firing would frequently occur at night in the neighbourhood of Hill 60 and beyond. These could be heard and witnessed from the Apex and it was generally understood that the British were endeavouring to improve their ground or positions by sapping forward. Occasionally a naval searchlight would illuminate the area. At other times flares, made of oakum soaked in petrol and secured to wooden contrivances, would be thrown out into No-Man’s Land there, for a time, to burn merrily. Pistol flares were then only just making their appearance and very few had been issued.

4.40 a.m. of the 24th September witnessed the Battalion in a state of expectancy. Brigade headquarters had sent warning that an attack might be expected. Beyond, however, several bombs falling harmlessly near the bivouacs nothing happened. At 8 o’clock that night a demonstration was made by the troops on the right. These consisted of the 1st and 2nd Australian Divisions. The 3rd Light Horse Brigade joined in and for half an hour a very brisk fire from guns, rifles, and machine guns was kept up. These demonstrations were made for the twofold object of harassing the enemy and compelling him to disclose his dispositions. They seldom achieved the latter.

After “C” and “D” Companies were relieved an attempt was made to gain further knowledge of No-Man’s Land and the enemy’s works and movements at night. Patrolling was the only means available and as the distance between the opposing trenches was, at this point, so small the undertaking was extremely hazardous and needed the exercise of great caution. Lieut. A. H. Davey took out the first patrol which, going out from No  4 Post, crawled amongst the dead and debris towards the Pinnacle. It returned 30 or 40 minutes later without having been observed and without information of any special value. On its return journey it collected the identity discs from some of the unburied bodies. Subsequent patrols had little better luck. The enemy seemed, on his part, to be quite content to stick to his cover and to run no risk by appearing on the open ground. Our patrols, however, also did other work. They salvaged a considerable quantity of rifles, tools, and equipment. These articles were collected and sent down to the base on the beach. Turkish rifles were almost as valuable as our own, as the same pattern was in use by the Belgians, and any captured or recovered were intended for their use. A later Corps Order commented favourably on the work done by the 28th in this respect. As patrols could not move in any force without attracting unwelcome attention, three or four men, including an officer, were sufficient for the purpose in view. Rifles being inconvenient to carry when crawling, the party was usually armed only with revolvers and a couple of Mills grenades. Further patrolling was done each night down a long sap connecting the left of No  4 Post with the 27th Battalion on Cheshire Ridge. Also from the right of No  1 Post in order to keep in touch with the Light Horse on Rhododendron Spur pending the completion of the communication trench.

In such broken ground it was not impossible for a man to lose contact with the other members of a patrol. It is on record that one individual, having lost his way, was observed approaching our trench. Seeing a head and shoulders suddenly appear through the bushes in front of him, the sentry was about to fire, but, being restrained by an officer, challenged instead and exclaimed in a voice full of intent, Speak! Who are you? The stray, whose position between the two lines was not an enviable one, replied hurriedly, Private William M , of Subiaco, Western Australia. Come in, you ruddy fool, rejoined the disappointed sentry. But M ’s luck was still out, for, in endeavouring to respond to the invitation, he got foul of the wire entanglements and crashed heavily to the ground. There he lay for some time until eventually he was dragged in by his comrades.

In country of the nature mentioned the most careful arrangements and fullest exchange of information between neighbouring units, when the sending out of patrols was contemplated, was of vital importance. Through the neglect of these measures collisions, resulting in casualties, occurred on two occasions between patrols and the men in the front line trenches.

On the 25th September Captain Montgomery’s party rejoined from the Beach.

On this day, and on the 27th, the Turk showered quite a considerable number of the broomstick bombs into the position. A few casualties resulted. Our artillery were telephoned and retaliated with 6-inch howitzer and 18-pounder shells. The arrival and powerful burst of the former missiles were received with cheers by the harassed garrison, and the enemy soon desisted. There was a strong back blast from our heavier projectiles and a few men, some distance down the Dere, were struck by splinters. As there was some uncertainty as to the exact daily error of our guns, it was, on occasions, necessary to thin the front line garrisons in order to guard against a shell falling short. One man, engaged cleaning up the trench which led down to the 27th Battalion, was buried to the neck as a result of a naval shell landing a few feet behind him and driving in the wall of the excavation. Fortunately he was able to call out and was quickly released.

The 26th and 27th were days selected for inter-company reliefs. “C” and “D” Companies went back into the line.

As it was believed that the morale of the enemy had been lowered considerably by the heavy losses he had sustained, attempts were made to induce him to desert. One of the means adopted was propaganda literature in Turkish and Arabic which was attached to “dud” grenades and propelled into the enemy area. It is not known whether this method had any success, but the infantry sent along a story told at the expense of another arm of the service that one man did come in and surrendered himself to the commanding officer’s cook, whom he had to awaken.

Enemy espionage was suspected and a native barber, who used to wander around the support and reserve areas, came under surveillance. He disappeared, and his ultimate fate is unknown, but rumour had it that the Light Horse had “given him a start over the parapet.”