THE STORY OF THE SOUTHLAND
The transport of the Second Australian Division from Egypt to Gallipoli was not to pass without at least one striking incident, which proved that the Australian army, if without traditions of its own, is able at a moment's notice to live up to the finest traditions of the soldiers of the British race. There is probably no Australian who has not been made familiar with the history of the Birkenhead, and it fell to the lot of one battalion of the Second Division to show that "To stand and be still in the Birkenhead Drill" is not too tough a thing for the untried troops of the south.
This battalion was the 21st, a Victorian Battalion mainly composed of farmers' sons from the Wimmera district; and it left Egypt on the last Monday in August on board the transport Southland in charge of Colonel Linton. The transport had also on board General Legge, the officer in command of the Second Division, and his staff—the brains of the Second Division, as one of the men told me. And, when she left Egypt, it was freely prophesied that she would be the object of attack by the submarines that were at that time very busy in the Ægean Sea.
No precaution was omitted on the voyage. The men were daily paraded by their Colonel (Colonel Hutchinson) and instructed in boat and lifebelt drill. All went well till Thursday morning, just after the early exercises. It was a beautiful morning, and the deck was crowded with men, smoking and chatting, and some of them cleaning their equipment in readiness for the imminent landing.
Suddenly a cry was heard, "God, is that a torpedo?"
No one who saw the deadly thing ripping through the water had any doubt of it. A moment later there was a dull clanging roar, and a hole nearly thirty feet in diameter was blown in the side, two holds being destroyed. In a second the siren was blowing the signal to abandon ship, and the Australians, conforming to the drill regulations, lined up on deck as if on parade.
The ship's officers kept magnificently cool. The captain, by a magnificent piece of navigation, contrived to avoid a second torpedo which if it had struck the Southland would undoubtedly have sunk the vessel in a couple of minutes. The engineer closed the bulkheads and a number of open portholes, and to him also must be ascribed the credit of having prevented the vessel from sinking.
Obeying the order conveyed by the siren, the crew of the Southland made for the boats, and most of them were afloat before any Australian moved. They stood at attention along the deck and waited for a lead from their officers.
It came from the General himself. In full uniform, with spurs and cane, he stood at the side of the ship and lighted a cigarette. General Legge was joined there by his Chief of Staff, Colonel Gwynn of Duntroon College, and the two chatted unconcernedly as they surveyed the scene.
The order was given to the men to remove their boots, and they began to do so. One of them noticed the General standing there, booted and spurred, and ventured the question, "What about General Legge?" "Oh, the General is going to walk it," he was told.
There was a heavy rolling sea, and the ship was now in a bad way, listing as though she were about to sink at every roll. Some of those bush boys could not swim, and to all of them boats and lifebelts were unfamiliar articles. But they stood in line and saw the sailor men go, waiting for orders.
Then they were set to launching boats and life rafts, and it cannot be said they made a very good job of it. The first boat was launched by one rope only, and turned all its occupants out as it struck the water. It was one of four boats overturned for some reason. In one of these was Colonel Linton, the Brigadier, who unfortunately died of heart shock in the water.
While this was happening destroyers were steaming to the spot at a rate of thirty knots, and did not arrive one moment too soon. The water was dotted with the floating rafts and coops and with the heads of swimming men. Remarkable gallantry was displayed by many, and one young officer who was a fine swimmer is mentioned as swimming about and helping the struggling men to places on the rafts and collapsible boats.
But before all had left the ship, the captain of the Southland made a call for volunteers to stay by the sinking ship, on the chance that she might be driven under her own steam to the beach. He had a response from three times as many men as he required, and the Australians, officers and men together, stripped for the stokehold.
Their bravery met with its just reward. The Southland held out long enough to be driven ashore at Lemnos, and all who had remained aboard got off her safely. In all there were some twenty men drowned, among them the Brigadier, and several were killed and about fifteen wounded by the explosion of the torpedo.
The steadiness and grit displayed by the men on the deck of the shattered transport was matched by their behaviour in the water and on the crowded boats. Although some of the collapsible boats were loaded almost to sinking point, and although the heavy sea had made many of the men extremely seasick, they waited for the expected help to come with the utmost sang-froid.
An officer on another transport, which came up three hours later and took many of the men on board, tells of their coolness and unconcern:—
"We slowed down as we came up, but missed some of the boats, as no rope was thrown out to them. They drifted past us, calling out 'Don't you want us?' and another wag added, 'We've just been fishing.' In another boat they were singing 'Here We Are Again.' All were more or less merry, including the injured, for some had their hands torn with sliding down the ropes; others had got under the capsized boats, and had a struggle to get out, especially if they had the lifebelts on; others got cuts on the head."
"You couldn't get bustled," one of the 21st told me, "when the General and all the officers were taking it so coolly. And the skipper of the Southland too; talk about the spirit of a British sailor, he showed us what it was that day. And I think from what I heard him say he likes Australians. I was one of those who escaped a ducking, being lucky enough to be chosen for stokehold duty. So I never even got my feet wet."
The story of one of the men who had a swim of over a mile is eloquent of the spirit of the fellows, and of the dangers in which they found themselves:—
"Some of the sights I saw I'll never forget. A boat full was being let down and one of the ropes either broke or slipped, and one end dropped, and there it was hanging end on. Naturally its occupants all fell out all ways, and then the other end broke, and the whole boat dropped on them. There were yells, etc., but I didn't wait to see any more, and espied a boat some distance away and made for it.
"Eventually I reached it, about a mile or so from the ship, and got hauled in, although I don't remember that; I was feeling a bit goosed. However, after five minutes' spell, I got on to an oar and started to row. Not that we wanted to row anywhere, but just to keep head on to the waves and keep the water down. It was a collapsible boat, and lived up to its name admirably and collapsed frequently. After about an hour or so smoke appeared on the horizon, and it turned out to be a hospital ship, coming up fast. Then another appeared, and then another, and then a destroyer came in sight, and soon quite a collection had arrived, but all made for the ship herself, which was still hanging on to life.
"Then our boat went to the pack and started to sink. Oh! it was a lovely sensation—I don't think. Eventually after four and a half hours up to our knees in water, baling and rowing like fiends, we reached the hospital ship, and—talk about a relief to feel something solid again! As soon as we came up the ladder each man was handed a packet of cigarettes, and we were then bundled below, and had beef tea and dry clothes given us.
"I forgot to say that soon after we were hit our little 4.7 let fly. I don't know if she hit the submarine; at all events she scared it, or we'd have stopped another for a cert. And God only knows what would have happened if we hadn't had wireless to let every one know. However, it's all over now, and I'm safe and sound, bar a bang on the head and the ankle, but have only a pair of pants and singlet and my knife; no hat, or boots and socks."
Throughout their trying experiences not a man among the Australians showed a sign of panic or concern. Naturally their General was very proud of them, as they of him. General Legge, as soon as all were collected together, issued an order congratulating them upon their pluck and fine discipline at a critical time.
Later General Birdwood, the officer commanding at Anzac, issued an order commending them in the eyes of the whole forces in the Anzac zone. It was worded in the following terms:—
"On behalf of all the comrades now serving on the peninsula, I wish to convey to the Australian unit concerned our general feeling of admiration for the gallant behaviour of all ranks on the transport Southland. All the troops of the army corps have heard with pride of the courage and discipline shown at the moment when the nerves of the bravest are liable to be so highly tried. Not only was there not the slightest confusion on the part of the troops, who quietly fell in and prepared to meet whatever fate might be in store, but later, when there was prospect of the Southland being able to make way under her own steam and stokers were called for, the men at once came forward and successfully helped in getting the Southland into port."
The episode of the Southland confirmed the impression created by the gallant behaviour of the 18th Battalion at Hill 60, when they were thrown into the thick of the fight within a few hours of their landing on Gallipoli, and behaved like veterans. It was established that the Second Division was composed of the same splendid fighting material as the First. They had a thankless task before them, as the reader will learn from the last two chapters of this book. But they carried it through in the fine spirit displayed by the men of the Southland and of Hill 60.