THE CHARGE AT KRITHIA
The men of Anzac were now called upon to take their part in a great concerted attack, made by all the forces commanded by Sir Ian Hamilton on Gallipoli Peninsula. Those familiar with the operations in Gallipoli will remember that, simultaneously with the landing of the Australasians at Gaba Tepe, no less than five landings had been effected by the British and French expeditionary forces further south, on points situated on the extreme southern point of the peninsula.
A great mountain rampart lay between these forces and the Anzacs, culminating in the summit of Achi Baba, the hardest nut to crack in the whole peninsula. Loftily situated on the slopes of Achi Baba is the village of Krithia, protected by a maze of Turkish trenches, and a wilderness of barbed wire entanglements. Upon this village an attack was directed from as many points as practicable, and in this attack a large proportion of the Australasian troops participated.
The attack was opened by such a fusillade of shellfire from the warships of the allied fleet as has seldom been seen or heard. From all quarters they rained shell and shrapnel on the slopes of Krithia, searching the ranges one by one in the attempt to dislodge the defenders from their trenches and hiding-places along the scrubby hillsides and precipitous ravines. The enemies' losses from that shellfire were enormous, but the Turks are admirable defensive fighters, and they clung to their trenches, making the most of the shelters that had been constructed in anticipation of such an attack.
The Anzacs had been posted as reserves in this great attack on Krithia, the Australians occupying positions on the left of the Krithia road, in support of a division of the Naval Brigade. On the other side of the road, and in support of the British 88th Brigade, were the New Zealanders. The fighting had begun on May 6, and between then and May 8 some ground had been gained; but the Turks were so strongly entrenched, and counter-attacked so vigorously, that on the morning of the 8th it appeared as though there were some danger of the advantage being again lost.
It was on the evening of May 8 that the long-expected signal to advance was received by the Australasian soldiers. Now they were to prove themselves in the eyes of the world, for they were fighting side by side with men drawn from four continents. Away to their extreme right the French, with their brave Senegalese helping them, had performed prodigies of valour during the preceding days. They were still holding the mile of ground they had gained, hanging on like grim death, and even pushing forward where opportunity permitted.
Nearer to the Australasian posts were Indian troops; Gurkhas, Sikhs and Punjabis; while with them were Britons of all kinds, sailormen and soldiers, regulars, Indian-service men, and a sprinkling of the new Army raised by Lord Kitchener. On the warships in the Gulf of Saros and the Dardanelles, eyes experienced in all the battlefields of modern days were watching them critically. The cannonade from the warships redoubled; the din was appalling, so that the very earth shook with it. It was at this moment that the Australasians were ordered to step into the limelight.
A quarter of a mile in front of the New Zealanders the gallant 88th held a trench. The Maorilanders had to go through that, and forward as far up the slope as a series of rushes with the bayonet would carry them. Before the Australians were the sailormen, situated similarly to the 88th. Past their trench the Australians had to charge, and up the bullet-swept slope towards Krithia. They waited for the signal to advance; it was given by the sudden cessation of the deafening din that was proceeding from the great 15-inch guns of the warships.
With a cry of "Ake! Ake!"—the war cry of the brave old Maori chief Rewi—the New Zealanders swept forward in a solid body over the 400 yards that separated them from the trench held by the 88th. A pause for breath was taken, and then they went on, taking with them many of their English cousins, who wanted to be in it with the bold fellows from the Long White Cloud. Just as they practised evolutions on the sands of Heliopolis, so they performed them now. The solid lines expanded, always advancing without check or pause. Sometimes they doubled, sometimes they walked; but they moved steadily forward all the time, a thin brown line that no human agency could stop. For seven hundred yards more they went on, with bullets raining upon them, and through a veil of constantly exploding shrapnel. Then they could go no farther. But they would not go back; they flung themselves on the ground and dug for shelter.
From the warships that charge was watched by those who were there for no other purpose than to observe and record. The great broken slope up which the charge was made lay like the stage of some huge theatre under the glasses of those who were watching, and with a fascination in which intensest admiration was blended, every move of the soldiers of the South was chronicled. Mr. Ashmead Bartlett was among those who watched that unforgettable charge, and he has placed his impressions on record in the following words:—
"The line entered one Turkish trench with a rush, bayoneted all there, and then passed on into broken ground, shooting and stabbing, men falling amid the terrible fusillade, but not a soul turning back. No sooner had one line charged than another pressed on after it, and then a third. On the right the New Zealanders and the Australians advanced at the same moment, but over much more open ground, which provided little or no cover. They were met by a tornado of bullets and were enfiladed by machine guns from the right.
"The artillery in vain tried to keep down this fire, but the manner in which these Dominion troops went forward will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. The lines of infantry were enveloped in dust from the patter of countless bullets in the sandy soil and from the hail of shrapnel poured on them, for now the enemy's artillery concentrated furiously on the whole line. The lines advanced steadily as if on parade, sometimes doubling, sometimes walking, and you saw them melt away under this dreadful fusillade only for their lines to be renewed again as the reserves and supports moved forward to replace those who had fallen.
"In spite of all obstacles a considerable advance towards Krithia was made, but at length a point was reached from which it was impossible to proceed farther. Not a man attempted to return to the trenches. They simply lay down where they were and attempted to reply to their concealed enemy, not a man of whom disclosed his position. Only a few hundred yards had been won, it is true, but these Australians and New Zealanders were determined not to budge and proceeded to entrenching themselves where they lay."
The simultaneous charge of the Australians was made with the same steadiness and coolness as was displayed by the New Zealanders. The men were led up to the firing trench occupied by the Naval division by General McCay in person, and he gave them the signal to go forward when they had taken breath after their first quarter of a mile rush. "Now then, on, Australians!" he cried, waving the periscope he carried. And they took up the cry. "Come on, Australians!" was the shout, and there was no need to repeat it.
Through the bursting shrapnel they ran, line after line, always forward, though their ranks were thinning rapidly. They opened out as if on parade, they kept a straight thin line of advance. They raced the New Zealanders on their left and far outdistanced the British and Indians on their right. Then they too dug for shelter, and made good their ground. They were congratulated by their British friends afterwards on the fine show they had made, when one long bushman drawled out, "Why, it was child's play to that first Sunday."
But they had played to a full house and the Anzac charge at Krithia rammed home the reputation they had first won on the steep cliff of Gaba Tepe. On the next day, May 9, the 15th and 16th Battalions of the Fourth Regiment carried three more trenches near Gaba Tepe; and on the following day resisted successfully a series of deadly and persistent attacks. So they won fame, and again proved their title to be considered soldiers of the very first rank.
It was after the fighting of these two days that General Sir Ian Hamilton sent to Mr. Andrew Fisher, the Prime Minister of the Australian Commonwealth, a message of which every Australasian should be proud:—"May I, out of a full heart, be permitted to say how gloriously the Australian and New Zealand Contingents have upheld the fine traditions of our race during the struggle still in progress. At first with audacity and dash, since then with sleepless valour and untiring resource, they have already created for their countries an imperishable record of military virtue."
The Anzacs holding the position at Gaba Tepe were naturally weakened by the withdrawal of these reinforcements to co-operate in the main attack, and this fact appears to have been known to the enemy. It is at any rate certain that redoubled vigour was displayed in attacking those who remained to hold the Gaba Tepe position, while their comrades were employed elsewhere. All these attacks were successfully repelled, and the defenders, now accustomed to their surroundings, and becoming more inured to actual war conditions, gave even better exhibitions of soldierly qualities than before. That is to say that, while fighting as bravely as ever, they spared themselves more, and reduced the number of avoidable casualties.
But constant and dangerous work had put a great strain upon them, and a rest for many of them was badly needed. At this juncture a very considerable and most welcome reinforcement arrived, and permitted the needed rest to be taken. The reinforcement consisted of the cavalry, who had been left behind in Egypt with their horses. The news that their mates were in the thick of the fighting had not tended to diminish their discontent at being left behind, and on hearing the news from Gaba Tepe, and seeing the first wounded arrive at Egypt, they arose and demanded as one man to be allowed to serve in the trenches as infantry.
Those who know how close and intimate is the tie between the Australasian horseman and his horse will recognize that this volunteering had a special value of its own, coming from the class of man that it did. The offer was gladly accepted, the men doffed their mounted kit, and got into puttees and bluchers. They arrived in the nick of time, and any difference between their training and that of the infantry could not be appreciated, as soon as they got into the trenches and to real soldiering work.
The coming of the "light-weights" made a great difference to the men already at Gaba Tepe, whose numbers were sadly depleted; and the men who had left their spurs behind got a welcome all the warmer because they had not waited to be ordered there, but had volunteered. They came in the very nick of time, for the presence of the Anzacs had become so obnoxious to the German commanders of the Turkish forces that active steps were even then being concerted to get rid of them.
These positions that they held so strongly midway between the city of Gallipoli and the end of the peninsula, where the bulk of the Expedition to the Dardanelles was operating were an enormous hindrance to the Turks and their German masters. A large body of troops had always to be kept on the spot to prevent the Anzacs from cutting communications between the main defending force and the depots whence they drew their stores and reinforcements. Not only that; the actual progress of reinforcements was hampered by the operations of these tireless Colonials, who were constantly harassing the warrior natives of the soil.
Therefore General Liman von Sanders, in his wisdom, decided that the Anzacs must be driven into the sea; and at the time of the arrival of the reinforcements drawn from the Australasian Light Horse, was gathering a strong army, which he soon afterwards directed in a general frontal attack upon the Anzac positions.
But before that attack was delivered, the Australian army suffered an irreparable loss in the person of its brave and skilful General, General Bridges. This gallant soldier had been in the thick of the fighting throughout the whole of the operations that began with the landing of April 25. Wherever he went he set an example of cool courage that acted as a tonic to the men, who trusted and loved him dearly. At first he disdained to take the ordinary precautions that were dictated by the conditions under which he was directing operations, and with a grim carelessness walked about under shrapnel fire, without making any attempt to seek cover.
The warnings of his staff, and his early conviction that it was not necessary to set so uncompromising an example of personal courage to men so consistently brave as those under his command, caused him later to adopt a more prudent attitude; and on the day when he sustained his fatal wound he showed more than his customary care for himself. He set out upon an inspection of a firing line, and for once he consented to run through the more exposed parts of his round.
A description has already been given of the deep ravine that runs down to the sea on the right of Pope's Hill. When he came to the path that crosses this gully, he was warned by the dressers at the ambulance station that the bullets were flying very thickly down the gully. "You had better run across here, sir," said one of them. He took the advice and reached another shelter. There he stood for a time, and then remarking ruefully, "Well, I suppose I must run for it again," he made a dash for the next cover. Before he reached it a bullet struck him in the thigh, severing an important artery. He would have rapidly bled to death but for prompt assistance. Stricken as he was, his first thought was for others; he did not wish any one to expose himself in helping to carry him down to the sea-front.
He was carried there, however, and transferred to the hospital ship with every possible care. In spite of all attention and skill, he never rallied; and died at sea on his way to Egypt. Australia mourns him as a gallant and considerate leader, a man whose memory will be ever revered in the Southern Continent. His command was temporarily assumed by Brigadier-General Walker, who acted in that capacity until the arrival from Australia of General Legge, who was appointed to succeed General Bridges.