As was mentioned, Sir Ian Hamilton reached Tenedos on March 17, the day before the naval engagement. The appointment to command the military forces had come to him unexpectedly but five days earlier, and on March 13 he started from London. He had received only slight and vague instructions from Lord Kitchener, but on certain limitations the Secretary for War insisted, and all of them strongly influenced Sir Ian’s subsequent action. If possible a landing was to be avoided; none was to be attempted until the fleet had made every effort to penetrate the Straits and had failed; if a landing became unavoidable, none should be made until the full force available had assembled; and no adventurous operations were to be undertaken on the Asiatic side. All these instructions were followed.78

But they revealed the hesitating reluctance with which the Dardanelles campaign was regarded, not only by Lord Kitchener himself, but by his subordinate generals at home and in France. The “Westerners” were, naturally, in the ascendant. The danger to the Allied cause lay close at hand. It had only recently been averted from the Channel and from Paris. The British Staff, equally with the French, represented that not a man could be spared from France, and that the only assured road to victory lay straight through the German lines. The opposition to any “side-show,” especially if it diverted a Regular Division such as the 29th, was expressed with the emphasis of jealous alarm.

Even the appointment of Sir Ian Hamilton to the distant enterprise was likely to be received with mingled sentiments. He counted forty-two years of service in the army. Since the days of the Afghan War and Majuba Hill (where his left hand was shattered), he had risen step by step to all but the highest commands. The Nile, Burma, Chitral, and Tirah had known him. He commanded the infantry in the rapid but vital engagement at Elandslaagte, and during the siege of Ladysmith had charge of the extensive and dangerous sector known as Cæsar’s Camp and Wagon Hill. In the final months of the Boer War he was Lord Kitchener’s Chief of Staff, and commanded mobile columns in the Western Transvaal, greatly contributing to the conclusion of the war. Since then he had served at home as Quartermaster-General, as G.O.C.-in-Chief of the Southern Command, and as Adjutant-General. Abroad he had served as Military Representative of India with the Japanese army in Manchuria (1904–1905, when, in A Staff Officer’s Scrap-Book, he foretold the disappearance of cavalry and the prevalence of the trench in future warfare), as General Officer-Commanding-in-Chief in the Mediterranean, and Inspector-General of the Overseas Forces (1910–1915). Except that he had never yet held supreme command in any considerable campaign, his experience in military affairs and in almost every phase of our army’s activity was hardly to be surpassed.

On the other hand, he was sixty-two; and, though he was a year younger than Lord French, and retained a slim and active figure such as enabled Lord Roberts to take command in South Africa at seventy, sixty-two was regarded as a full age for any officer in so difficult a campaign upon a desert promontory. From a mingled Highland and Irish descent he had inherited the so-called Celtic qualities which are regarded by thorough Englishmen with varying admiration and dislike. His blood gave him so conspicuous a physical courage that, after the battles of Cæsar’s Camp and Diamond Hill, the present writer, who knew him there, regarded him as an example of the rare type which not merely conceals fear with success, but does not feel it. Undoubtedly he was deeply tinged with the “Celtic charm”—that glamour of mind and courtesy of behaviour which create suspicion among people endowed with neither. Through his nature ran a strain of the idealistic spirit which some despise as quixotic, and others salute as chivalrous, while, with cautious solicitude, they avoid it in themselves. It was known also that Sir Ian was susceptible to the influence of beauty in other forms than those usually conceded to military men. He was an acknowledged master of English prose, and though our people read more in quantity than any other nation, the literary gift is regarded among us as a sign of incapacity, and is not, as in France and ancient Greece, accepted as assurance of far-reaching powers. What was worse, he was known to have written poetry.

Before the war, his opposition to the introduction of conscription in the United Kingdom had roused the animosity of all who aimed at establishing militarism as a permanent system in this country. Thus political animosity was added to the official prejudice against a buoyant and liberal temperament, conjoined with a politeness and an open-hearted manner startlingly at variance with official usage. One must acknowledge that, in choosing the man for command, Lord Kitchener hardly took sufficient account of qualities likely to arouse antipathy among certain influential classes and the newspapers which represent their opinions. But careless of such prudent considerations, as his manner was, he allowed his decision to be guided by the General’s long experience of warfare, and designedly selected an eager temperament, liable to incautious impetuosity, but suited, as might be supposed, to an undertaking which demanded impetuous action. It was, however, probably in fear lest natural impulse should be given too loose a rein that the instructions mentioned above impressed only caution upon the appointed commander. In view of the strong opposition to the whole enterprise, it was also assumed that no reinforcements could be promised, and none should be asked for. Even the allotted Divisions were not allowed the ten per cent. extra men usually granted to fill up the gaps of immediate loss.

After that conference in the Queen Elizabeth on March 22 (when Sir Ian left the final decision to the naval authorities), it was evident that a military landing could not be avoided, unless the whole expedition were abandoned. It is easy now for belated prudence to maintain that Sir Ian should then have abandoned it, secured (if he could) the acquiescence of the navy in defeat, counter-ordered the assembling troops, and returned to London. Prudence could have said much for such a retirement. Small preparation had been made; the strongest part of the striking force was still distant; the number of the enemy (though roughly estimated at 40,000 on the Peninsula, and 30,000 in reserve beyond Bulair) was quite unknown; ever since the appearance of our fleet, Turks had been digging like beavers every night at most of the possible points of our offence; and it had been proved that the cross-fire of naval guns could not dislodge them even from the toe of the Peninsula, where, for about five miles up to the rising ground in front of Achi Baba, the surface appeared comparatively level. All these objections could have been urged, and, indeed, were urged at the time by Generals to whom, as to the German commanders of the Turkish defence, a landing appeared impossible. But if any one believes that a high-spirited and optimistic officer was likely to consider a retirement to be his duty just when he had received a command which he regarded as the surest means of terminating the war, he errs like a German psychologist in his judgment of mankind.

So, in the face of all objections, the preparations for an assault upon the Peninsula began. The immediate difficulty was a question of transport. Besides 5000 Australians from Egypt, the Royal Naval Division (less three battalions) had already arrived at Mudros, and their twelve transports were anchored in the great harbour. But it was found that the ships were indeed well enough packed for peace conditions, but the freight had not been arranged with a view to launching separate units complete upon the field of action. Men were divided from their ammunition, guns from their carriages, carts from their horses. Perhaps, for a long voyage, it is impossible to load transports so as to make each unit self-supporting. At all events, it was not done, and on the desert shores of the Mudros inlet it was impossible to unload and sort out and repack. Unless incalculable time was to be lost, such a confused piece of work could not be undertaken apart from wharves and cranes and docks. Wharves and cranes and docks were to be found at Alexandria, but no nearer; and to Alexandria the transports were ordered to return. That historic city thus became the main base—Mudros harbour, which had previously been selected, now serving as intermediate or advanced base.79 Lord Kitchener approved the return and repacking of the transports, and certain advantages in the matter of drill and organisation were gained by the delay, to say nothing of the inestimable advantage of more settled weather. But the enemy also gained advantages, and in the extra month allowed them they increased their defensive works with laborious anxiety.

On March 25 (a calendar month before the great landing) Sir Ian Hamilton followed the transports to Egypt and remained there till April 7. While he was there his Administrative Staff arrived (April 1). It had been appointed after he left England, and until its arrival the administrative work had been, with much extra exertion, carried on by his Chief of Staff, General Braithwaite, and the rest of the General Staff. Sir Ian took the opportunity of his presence in Egypt to inspect the 29th Division (under Major-General Hunter-Weston), which began to arrive in Alexandria on March 28 and was encamped at Mex outside the city while its transports were being reloaded for the landing. He also inspected the Royal Naval Division (under Major-General Paris) at Port Said, and the French Division (under Général d’Amade) near Alexandria, where their transports also were being reloaded. At least equally significant, when viewed from what was then the future, was his inspection of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, or “Anzacs,” as they came to be called. The corps was commanded by Lieut.-General Sir W. R. Birdwood: the Australian Division under Major-General W. T. Bridges, the mixed New Zealand and Australian Division under Major-General Sir Alexander Godley. The Australian Division was encamped at Mena, near the Pyramids; the mixed Division at Heliopolis on the other side of Cairo. Sir Ian also inspected the 42nd (East Lancashire) Division (under Major-General W. Douglas, the first Territorials to volunteer for foreign service), although they were not as yet part of his own force, but stood under command of Major-General Sir John Maxwell for the defence of Egypt. Beside these fighting Divisions, since so renowned, there remained the Assyrian Jewish Refugee Mule Corps (better known as “the Zionists”), organised only a few days before out of Jewish refugees from Syria and Palestine, chiefly Russian subjects, who had sought safety in Egypt. Colonel J. H. Patterson had been commissioned to select a body of about 500, with 750 transport mules. Orders were given in Hebrew and partly in English; the men were armed with rifles taken from the Turks in the battle of the Canal; and the regimental badge was the Shield of David. Probably this was the first purely Jewish fighting corps that went into action since Jerusalem fell to the Roman armies under Titus.80

The fortunate presence of the “Anzacs” in Egypt was due to Lord Kitchener’s constant apprehension of a Turkish attack upon the Suez Canal and the main country, in which it was natural to suppose that a nationalist and religious feeling would rally a large part of the inhabitants to the enemy’s side. At the outbreak of war with Germany thousands of the youth in Australia and New Zealand (including large numbers of Maoris) had eagerly volunteered, moved by love of adventure and a racial affection for the mother-country. After nearly three months’ preparation—a difficult task, persistently effected in Australia by Major-General Bridges, who for three years had been commandant of Duntroon Military College—the whole force assembled at King George Sound on October 31, 1914, and set sail next day (the day of Turkey’s entrance into the war as the Central Powers’ Ally). Thirty-eight transports carried the army corps, and they were convoyed by cruisers, one of which (the Sydney, under Captain Glossop) gained the distinction upon the route of destroying the active raider Emden at Cocos Island, and taking her gallant and resourceful captain, Karl von Müller, prisoner (November 9). Having reached Egypt on December 3, the “Anzacs” went into camps at points near Cairo for further training, and some selected battalions took part in the repulse of Djemal Pasha’s attack upon the Canal near Ismailia in the first week of February 1915.

A finer set of men than the “Anzacs” after their three months’ training upon the desert sands could hardly be found in any country. With the aid of open-air life, sufficient food, and freedom from grinding poverty, Australia and New Zealand had bred them as though to display the physical excellence of which the British type is capable when released from manufacturing squalor or agricultural subjection. Equally distinguished in feature and in figure—the eyes rather deep-set and looking level to the front, the nose straight and rather prominent, shoulders loose and broad, moving easily above the slim waist and lengthy thighs, the chest, it is true, rather broad than deep, owing to Australia’s clear and sunny air—they walked the earth with careless and dare-devil self-confidence. Gifted with the intelligence that comes of freedom and healthy physique, they were educated rather to resourceful energy in the face of nature than to scientific knowledge and the arts. Since they sprang from every Colonial class, and had grown up accustomed to natural equality, military discipline at first appeared to them an irritating and absurd superfluity, and they could be counted upon to face death but hardly to salute an officer. Indeed, their general conception of discipline was rather reasonable than regular, and their language, habitually violent, continued unrestrained in the presence of superiors; so to the natural irony of our race was added a Colonial independence.

Except in action, the control of such men was inevitably difficult. Released from a long voyage, exposed to the unnatural conditions of warfare, and beguiled by the curious amenities of an Oriental city, now for the first time experienced, many availed themselves of Cairo’s opportunity for enjoyment beyond the strict limit of regulations. The most demure of English tourists upon the Continent, having escaped from the trammels of identity, have been known in former times to behave as they would not behave in their own provincial towns; much more might unrestrained behaviour be expected in men whose sense of personal responsibility in a foreign city had been further reduced by uniform, and who were encouraged to excess by the easy standard of military tradition, and by the foreknowledge that, to get beforehand with death, the interval for pleasure might be short. It was no wonder, therefore, that, while twenty per cent. of the Colonial forces (later ten per cent.) poured into Cairo daily upon any animal or conveyance which could move, the beautiful city became a scene of frequent turmoil.81

Upon his journey back to the advanced base, there were many thoughts to divide and even oppress the mind of the most sanguine Commander-in-Chief. The fateful decision had now to be made—a decision upon which the future destiny of the war, and, indeed, of his country, so largely depended. The burden of responsibility lay upon his head alone. To his single judgment were entrusted, not only the lives of many thousand devoted men, but the highest interests of an Alliance in the justice of whose cause he whole-heartedly believed. As the inevitable hour approached, the difficulties of the appointed task were recognised as greater even than foreseen. The strongest nerve might well hesitate to confront them. Even at this crisis of decision, the chief among his commanding Generals were inclined to turn aside from the Peninsula as from impossibility. One advocated an attack upon Asia Minor, with a view to diverting the enemy’s main force, and so clearing a passage for the fleet. Another favoured further delay and continuous training, in hope of some more propitious opportunity. A third, while offering no alternative, considered the attempt too desperate to be tried. Upon a sensitive and imaginative nature the risk, the sacrifice of lives, the difficulties of a small force too rapidly organised, insufficiently equipped with modern ammunition, and unsupported by reinforcements, weighed heavily. To these were added the discouraging representations of friendly, trusted, and experienced officers, upon whose diligent co-operation the success of the whole design entirely depended. In such hours as those, deep searchings of mind and heart are the unenviable lot of the man whose word decides.

But Sir Ian’s decision was already taken, and subsequent conference with the Admirals de Robeck and Wemyss only confirmed it. On their arrival at Mudros, his Generals also agreed, and the General whose objections to landing on any condition had been the most serious, became enthusiastic for the scheme, if landing was attempted. Various lines of attack were possible, and each was carefully considered. To the lay mind, an assault upon the neck of the Peninsula at Bulair appeared so obvious that, from the very outset of operations, Sir Ian was blamed for not attempting it. The neck is narrow—not more than three miles across. If it were cut, the enemy on the main Peninsula might be expected to surrender for want of supplies; the Straits would then be free from obstacle on the European side, and the Asiatic side could be commanded by big guns on Achi Baba and the Kilid Bahr plateau opposite Chanak. The main objection to this obvious strategy was the disconcerting truth that the enemy’s chief line of communication did not run through Bulair, but across the strait itself, chiefly from the Asiatic coast to the town of Gallipoli, and even if Bulair were occupied, the supply of the Turkish army on the Peninsula could be maintained; while an Allied force advancing from Bulair towards the Narrows (which was the objective of the whole expedition) would be perpetually threatened from the rear. Bulair itself was also a formidable obstacle. The famous lines, originally fortified by the Allies in the Crimean War, and renewed to resist Russian, Bulgarian, and Greek attacks from the north, had been incalculably strengthened in the preceding weeks under German direction. On his first survey (March 18) Sir Ian had observed the labyrinth of white lines marking the newly-constructed trenches upon which thousands of Turks had already been long at work. The gleam of wire was apparent around the only two possible points of landing, both difficult, and unsuited for naval co-operation. An assault upon Bulair would have involved immense losses, and, even if successful, could not have advanced the solution of the problem—the problem of the Narrows—without further dubious and speculative fighting, front and rear.

Another proposal, which found favour with some, was a landing at Enos, on the mouth of the Thracian river Maritza (the ancient Hebrus). Except that the actual landing upon the level coast might have been easier, the same objections held, but in exaggerated form. The distance from the Narrows was more than twice as long. An army on the march round the head of the Gulf of Xeros would have had its left flank exposed the whole way to the large Turkish reserves known to be stationed at Rodosto and Adrianople. The two main roads from those important towns meet at Keshan, about fifteen miles from the Xeros coast, and from that base fairly good roads extend to Enos on the one side, and to Kavak, at the head of the Bulair neck, on the other. The Turkish armies could thus concentrate as at the handle of a fan, ready to strike at any point along the edge where the British were moving within reach of the coast. Nor could the navy have afforded much protection to our troops upon the march, the head-waters of the gulf being shallow far out from shore. Had Sir Ian attempted, as others have suggested, to turn inland and fight his way towards Constantinople, disregarding his appointed task at the Straits, he would, of course, have lost the assistance of the navy altogether, except as defence to his precarious base and lines of communication along the bit of coast; and, apart from the navy, he had no transport available for a long march.

Between Bulair and the sharp northern point of Suvla Bay, steep cliffs and the absence of beach, except in tiny inlets, prevent the possibility of landing. But inland from Suvla Bay itself there is open ground, and a practicable beach extends south as far as the cliff promontory of Gaba Tepe, although the main mass of the Sari Bair mountain rises close behind the southern part of the beach in a series of broken precipices and ravines. From Suvla Point to Gaba Tepe it would certainly have been possible to put the whole united force ashore, and, to judge from subsequent events, this might have been the wisest course. On the other hand, Suvla is far removed from the Narrows; a straight line thence to Maidos measures nearly fifteen miles; it passes over the top of Sari Bair, a formidable barrier; while, upon the long and devious route alone possible for a movement of troops, the army would have had both flanks exposed, on the right to the strong Turkish position of Kilid Bahr plateau, and on the left to large forces available to the enemy from Rodosto and Gallipoli. It is probable that Sir Ian’s troops were not then numerous enough to hold so long a line of communications and at the same time resist flank attacks, especially the strong attack to be anticipated from the left.

A landing at Gaba Tepe itself, where north and south the ground is open, and a fairly level gap between the Sari Bair range and the Kilid Bahr plateau allows the long and wandering road from Krithia to cross the Peninsula to Maidos, would have exposed the army to similar flank attacks; but the distance is short (not much over five miles), and in all probability a landing in full force might have been attempted here had not the fortification and armament on the promontory itself, and on the gradually sloping land upon both sides of it, appeared too powerful for assault. The barbed-wire entanglements extended into the sea, and the country formed the most dangerous of all approaches—a glacis with no dead ground and little cover. South of this position the cliffs rise abruptly again, and along all the coast round Cape Helles to Morto Bay (which was commanded by guns from the Asiatic side) a survey showed no beach or opening, except at a few small gaps and gullies, so soon to be celebrated.

As he rejected the coast between Suvla and Gaba Tepe, Sir Ian was compelled to disregard Napoleon’s maxim of war and divide his forces. His object was to shake the enemy’s moral, and puzzle the command by several simultaneous attacks, threatening front and rear, and keeping the Turkish Staff in flustered uncertainty where the main defence should be concentrated. Accordingly, a few of those small but practicable landing-places round the extremity of the Peninsula were selected. Here the assault upon the Turkish defences was to be made chiefly by units of the 29th Division. The chosen points were S Beach, or De Tott’s Battery, on the farther side of Morto Bay, where only a small force was to attempt holding on so as to protect our right flank; V Beach, just below the large village and ancient castle of Seddel Bahr, where a main attack was to be made and the ground permanently occupied; W Beach, where a similar force was to land, and link up with V Beach, having the same object in view; X Beach (round the point of Cape Tekke, looking out towards the Gulf of Xeros), where a force was to work up the face of a cliff and attempt to join hands with W Beach; and Y Beach, about three and a half miles north along the cliffs, where a small body was to scramble up a precipitous ravine and make a feint upon Krithia. Both flanks of the main attack were further protected by the sea and the naval guns.

Such was the task of the 29th Division, their general objective being the low but formidable position of Achi Baba, a hill sitting asquat almost across the Peninsula about five miles from Cape Helles, and rising by gradual and bare slopes to a truncated pyramid, some 600 to 700 feet high. About nine miles along the coast beyond Y Beach, between a point north of Gaba Tepe and a slight projection then called Fisherman’s Hut, three miles farther up the coast from Gaba Tepe, the Anzacs were to land on Z Beach, and work their way into the defiles and up the heights of Sari Bair. Their main purpose was to distract the enemy forces south of Achi Baba by threatening their rear and communications. With a similar object the greater part of the Royal Naval Division, which had no guns, and for which no small boats could be supplied, was to make a feint near the Bulair lines at the head of the Gulf. Further to distract the enemy’s attention, one infantry regiment and one battery from the French mixed Division were instructed to land on the Asiatic shore near Kum Kali; but not to remain there, nor advance beyond the river Mendere. Such, in brief, was the general design for attacking the Peninsula position, confidently described by German authorities as impregnable.

By the middle of April the force appointed to accomplish this overwhelming task had assembled in the Mudros harbour or loch. Large as that inlet is, the surface was so crowded with ships that the naval authorities, among whom Commodore Roger Keyes was Chief of Staff to Admiral de Robeck, had difficulty in finding anchorage for all. Beside the ships of war, places had to be fixed for 108 transports and other vessels. The 29th Division had arrived in twenty transports;82 the Anzacs in forty; the Royal Naval Division in twelve; the French Division in twenty-three; the Supply and Store Ships numbered twelve, and the Arcadian was detailed for General Headquarters.

The names of the officers appointed to the most important positions upon Sir Ian’s Staff may here be mentioned, his personal Aides being Captain S. H. Pollen and Lieutenant G. St. John Brodrick:

Headquarters of Base.

Headquarters of Administrative Services.

The total number of the Staff at the beginning of the great enterprise was eighty-four. Brigadier-General Woodward and Surgeon-General Birrell did not arrive till April 19, having remained in Egypt under orders to organise the hospitals. In their absence the general scheme for the evacuation of the wounded was drawn up by Lieut.-Colonel A. E. C. Keble, R.A.M.C.

The military force under Sir Ian’s command at the beginning of the campaign was composed as follows:

The 29th Division.

The Mounted Units had left their horses behind them in Egypt, and the popular pictures representing cavalry charging over broken ground upon the Peninsula are imaginative.

Most unfortunately, the Indian Brigade, under General Cox, was for the present left in Egypt, though its service there was no longer required, and Sir Ian had appealed to Lord Kitchener for it. Ultimately it arrived, just too late, on May 1.

The total number of the force was under 70,000; of these certainly not more than 60,000 could be used for action, even including the necessary reserves.

Landing was intended on April 23, but on the 20th a heavy wind arose, and blew for forty-eight hours, rendering the movement of small boats difficult even in Mudros harbour. On the 21st the Commander-in-Chief issued the following address to his forces:

A few further points remain to be mentioned. On April 17, one of our submarines, E15, ran aground off Kephez Point, and by a very gallant action was destroyed by the two picket-boats of the Triumph and Majestic (ships afterwards sent to the bottom by submarines). Lieut.-Commander Eric Robinson was in command, and, though coming under heavy fire, he succeeded in torpedoing the submarine and rendering it useless to the enemy.

On the 23rd, just after the transports had started, news came from the rugged island of Skyros, eighty miles south-west of Lemnos, that Rupert Brooke, the poet, had died there of blood-poisoning that evening. During his visit to the Royal Naval Division at Port Said, Sir Ian had seen him in his tent upon the sand, prostrate with fever, and had offered him a place on his Staff. With fine resolution, and a modesty equally characteristic, Brooke refused, being determined to abide by the Royal Naval Division, which he had joined before the quixotic fiasco at Antwerp. On April 20 he took part in a field-day on Skyros, and in an olive grove there, high up on the mountain Pephko, looking over Trebaki Bay, he was buried at midnight of the 23rd, his own petty officers carrying his body over the rocks and prickly bushes. A wooden cross, surrounded by lumps of marble, marks the spot. His colonel in the Hood Battalion, Arnold Quilter, Grenadier Guards, who was killed a fortnight later, wrote to his mother: “His men were devoted to him, and he had all the makings of a first-rate officer.” Alas! his friends know that he had all the makings of so much beside, and for them the world was darkened by the loss of so singularly beautiful a character, a personality so fine and full of the noblest promise.83

Upon other fronts of the war, the chief events of the weeks following the costly and inconclusive movement at Neuve Chapelle (March 10) were the capture of Przemysl by the Russians (March 22), followed by heavy fighting in the Carpathian passes, and the second battle of Ypres, inaugurated (April 22) on the German side by the earliest use of poison gas.