Throughout the long and anxious hours of the 25th, while the fate of his army hung uncertain, the Commander-in-Chief was compelled to remain on board the Queen Elizabeth with his Headquarter Staff. There was no place for him ashore. In modern warfare a commanding General cannot allow himself to become entangled in one part of the widely-extended front or in another. When once his dispositions have been made and his orders issued, the control passes out of his hands; and the more complete his dispositions and orders have been, the less is the part he is justified in taking upon himself. He can but await the result, listening anxiously to reports as they come. The wretchedness of such a position, for a soldier born to lead forlorn hopes or to command the rush of onset, was here increased by the sea. At no point was it possible even to remain on land without losing touch with all the other points. Only at sea could communication be maintained and reports delivered. The Commander-in-Chief was reduced to a position of inactive but restless security, all the more pitiable because, from the shelter of the great battleship, telescopes revealed incidents of heroic resolution in which it was impossible to share.

The day passed. In the evening the Queen Elizabeth flung a violent bombardment upon the defences of V Beach, bringing renewed courage to the line of survivors still crouching under the bank. At midnight, Sir Ian was called upon to take a decision as rapid as vital. It has been already mentioned that rumours of evacuation went round Anzac cove at sunset. The men were much exhausted by prolonged fighting, extreme danger, and heavy loss; the battalions were mixed; ammunition was running short; water, though brought ashore in boats, and already found by digging in one or two places, was scarce, and had to be carried up the cliffs on men’s backs; the wounded—over 2000 in number—though energetically tended, as already mentioned, and taken off rapidly to any available ship, still lay thick on the beach, or came dribbling back from the heights; along the bit of coast, over sea and shore, the shrapnel crashed and whirled perpetually; brave as the Anzacs had proved themselves, they were new to battle. If evacuation was unavoidable, now, at night, was the only possible time.

Sir Ian’s decision was unhesitating. The Turks were actually pressing upon the Anzac lines. Evacuation could not remain secret, and would take many hours. It would involve incalculable slaughter on the shore and in the boats. It meant defeat. It meant withdrawal such as Lord Kitchener had specially ordered him never to consider. It meant a breach in any high-spirited soldier’s instinct. The command was quick. Let them dig for their lives. Let them cling on like tigers. Help would come in the morning.

And in the morning help came. Just after daylight the Queen Elizabeth herself appeared off Anzac cove. For three hours she threw her huge shrapnel from 15-in. guns, each shell flinging out a cone of some 13,000 bullets far to both sides and front.95 The Triumph and Bacchante supported her. The Anzacs, outworn by the night struggle against repeated charges, stood their ground with courage renewed. Along the very edge of the steep cliff or ridge on the farther side of Shrapnel Gully they furiously dug. Battalions and brigades remained still confused. Men and groups fought or dug where they were wanted at the nearest line. By extreme effort thus was gradually formed that famous arc, or more properly triangle, which contained the Anzac of the next three months. It had the beach as base, Pope’s Hill near the apex (where a dangerous gap remained), Walker’s Ridge as one irregular side, and the long and devious line through Quinn’s Post, M‘Laurin’s Hill, and Bolton’s Hill to the coast as the other side, more irregular still.

The trenches began to afford some cover from shrapnel. A few 18-pounder guns were dragged up hastily constructed paths, and placed right in the firing line. But so continuous were the Turkish counter-attacks throughout the whole of Monday and the greater part of Tuesday the 27th that little attempt at reorganising the brigades was possible, the only recognisable distribution being that as a whole the Australians held the right side of the triangle, and the New Zealanders the left. Even within our lines many Turkish snipers continued for some days hidden in the scrub, maintained there by bags of provisions and cartridges brought with them to the lairs. The main or Shrapnel Gully was especially exposed to snipers of this kind and to more regular fire from the Nek, a narrow connecting link between the chief Anzac ridges and the main range of Sari Bair. To the last the southern end of the gully on its right side was so harassed by rifle fire that it retained its thick coating of scrub, as being too dangerous for dug-outs or any movement of men. For this reason the gully was sometimes called by the longer name of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and it appears to have been while reconnoitring here that Colonel M‘Laurin, Brigadier of the 1st Brigade, and Major Irvine, his Brigade-Major, were killed side by side.96

The more regular attacks were chiefly aimed at the apex, near the top of the gully, between Pope’s Hill and Quinn’s Post. The dominating position of Pope’s Hill had been stormed early on Sunday by a party of the 1st Battalion, and was taken over that evening by Colonel Pope with a mixed force of 400 men, who proceeded to entrench it as the valuable fortress which it remained. Quinn’s Post, always a point of danger, being within a few yards of the enemy’s line, was gallantly held for the first three days by a party of the 14th Battalion, and on Wednesday (28th) was taken over by Major Quinn (15th Battalion).97

On Wednesday (April 28) the general reorganisation and sifting out of Anzac could begin, but no attempt to reach the objective of Koja Chemen Tepe (Hill 971, the highest point of the Sari Bair range) or to cross the Peninsula to Maidos could then be made. In the fighting of Sunday and Monday alone, the three Australian brigades had lost 4500 killed and wounded. By Wednesday, at least one-fifth of the total force was out of action. Fortunately for General Birdwood, the Anzacs could fill up many gaps by the ten per cent. margin usually allotted to divisions on active service, but refused to Sir Ian’s troops from home. Hardly any amount of untried formations can reinforce an army in action so serviceably as drafts added to divisions which have proved their quality on the field, as the 29th had proved theirs.

By early afternoon of Monday the 26th, the position at the south end of the Peninsula had greatly improved. After dark on the previous evening, the remainder of the landing force on V Beach had come ashore, as already narrated, and though exposed to a violent outbreak of fire under the clear moonlight about 1.30 a.m., they had found better cover among the rocks at the foot of old Seddel Bahr castle. At daylight, Admiral Wemyss opened a heavy bombardment upon the castle, village, and slopes of the semicircular theatre. Thus encouraged, the wearied relics of the Hampshires and Dublin and Munster Fusiliers prepared for advance. To such an advance they were largely inspired by Lieutenant-Colonel Doughty-Wylie and Lieutenant-Colonel Williams of the Headquarter Staff, who, as narrated, had remained under the parapet of sand all night to keep the men in good heart. Only magic personality can organise a fresh assault out of hungry and thirsty men, who have for the most part been lying under almost continuous fire for twenty-four hours, and who leave more than half of their friends lying dead or wounded behind them. Yet it was done. Led by Doughty-Wylie and Captain Walford (Brigade-Major, 29th Divisional Artillery), the men fought their way up into the village under a stream of rifle and machine-gun fire, and from the village advanced to the attack of the plateau above it. On the slope Captain Walford was killed. Between the village and the summit, fearlessly leading the men forward, Doughty-Wylie, a noble type of English soldier and administrator, was killed in like manner.98 Irreparable as was the loss of that knightly figure, the attack pushed onward. By 2 p.m. Hill 141, the old castle, and the battered village were securely gained. On the south-west side of the theatre, connection with W Beach was confirmed, and V Beach became a fairly safe landing-place at last.

That evening and next day the French Corps began to disembark upon that scene of death and persistent courage. To the end of the campaign, V Beach remained the French landing-place and depôt for stores. The French constructed a solid pier out to the bow of the River Clyde, and kept also a gangway of lighters for approach to the floating platforms under shelter of her port side. A British naval and a military officer remained on board to direct the landing of troops or stores and the embarkation of the wounded. The ship’s bridge was fortified with sandbags, and as forming a north-east breakwater to the small harbour the old collier performed useful service. Though fully exposed to the Asiatic guns, she was rarely shelled, perhaps because her funnel served as a guide to the gunners for dropping over the headland heavy shells which burst upon W Beach. This they sometimes did with deadly success. The remainder of V Beach and the sandy theatre above it the French organised with characteristic exactness and practical skill. Stores were arranged in faultless piles, and a light railway for bringing up stone was laid along the shore to the cliff of Cape Helles. The old castle served as a depôt for ammunition. Compressed forage was piled up to limit the effect of shell-fire. In everything except “sanitation” the arrangement of the French lines surpassed ours. They were forbidden to our officers and men, but between adjacent battalions friendly communication was frequent, and by simple barter our tedious ration of apricot jam was frequently exchanged for the French ration of a light red wine, though these articles of exchange were received with scornful hilarity by each side.

On the 27th, two days after the landing, the whole line was able to advance without opposition so as to cover all the landing beaches except Y, which had so unfortunately been abandoned under extreme pressure of numbers. The strong Turkish position at the mouth of the Gully Ravine (“Gully Beach,” or “Y2”) was found deserted. The Turks had withdrawn farther up the ravine, their flanks being now exposed to an advance of the Royal Fusiliers from X or “Implacable Landing.” At Gully Beach the left or western end of our line was accordingly fixed, and the line extended for about three miles to the right, across the Peninsula to the point S, or Eski Hissarlik. This point was soon afterwards taken over by the French, who now put four battalions on their front. The expansion of ground left room for a landing of stores and guns upon the beaches, and also slightly increased the water supply, a few old wells being discovered within the area, and new wells dug. But, owing to the heavy losses, the men holding the front made but a thin line of defence, and the want of water, here as at all points throughout the campaign, remained a perpetual anxiety.

Worn out as his men were by Wednesday (the 28th) morning, almost deprived of sleep since the Saturday before, reduced by heavy loss, especially in officers, and calling in vain for reinforcements to fill up their ranks, Sir Ian resolved to press forward upon the Turks while they were still disorganised. At 8 a.m. a general advance was ordered, the 29th Division moving forward on the left and centre, with the deserted village of Krithia as objective, the French on the right aiming to reach the western or right slope of Kereves Dere, a broad and deep valley which runs down from the foot of Achi Baba and issues into the strait about a mile above De Tott’s Battery (Eski Hissarlik). Next to Seddel Bahr, the village of Krithia was the largest collection of houses upon the end of the Peninsula. It stands on the gradual slope leading up to Achi Baba, about four and a half miles from Cape Helles, whence its grey walls and squat windmills are distinctly visible. The land between the high plateau at Helles and the approaches to Achi Baba falls from both ends into a long and shallow scoop, like the inside of a flattish spoon. On the Ægean, or Xeros side, the rim of the spoon looks fairly complete, though in fact it is broken at the Gully Beach by the mouth of that long and hidden valley of Saghir Dere or Gully Ravine. On the side of the strait the rim is much less obvious, being broken at Morto Bay by the combined watercourses which drain the western and central slopes of Achi Baba, and farther north by the Kereves Dere. At the time of landing, the centre, or scoop of the spoon, was still bright with grass and aromatic plants. Olive trees were scattered over it, and here and there thin woods of stunted fir. At one spot, near the bottom of the curve, rose large trees like elms, which afforded a welcome grove of shade to the Royal Naval Division’s headquarters during the greater part of the campaign. On the whole, the French lines on our right were rather more thickly wooded than ours. At rare intervals stood the ruins of some isolated cottage, surrounded by a patch of cultivation for maize or vines.

Almost exactly down the centre ran the Krithia road from Seddel Bahr, having the “Achi Baba nullah,” which runs into Morto Bay, close on the right. Almost parallel to the road, at an average distance of 300 yards to the left or west side, runs the main or “Krithia” gully, which drains the greater part of the central scoop, and also issues into Morto Bay. A track, which became a road, ran beside this gully as far as a dividing-point, called “Clapham Junction,” where the trickle of water branched into East Krithia and West Krithia nullahs. Almost every yard of this wide scoop of land was fully exposed to the guns on Achi Baba, and some of it to the Asiatic guns as well. In consequence, as the campaign continued, it rapidly became covered with a network of trenches and dug-outs, looking like a vast graveyard, and terminating in an almost inextricable maze at the front, where it was checked by the Turkish system, equally elaborated. Except close to the front, however, transport and other communications were always carried on above ground; the grass was turned into sandy waste, and the paths into roads thick with dust. About half-way between Cape Helles and Krithia, the Peninsula was cut right across from sea to strait by the Eski or Old Line, which crossed the Gully Ravine near Gully Farm, and the Krithia nullah about 250 yards north of Clapham Junction, and ended about a third of a mile below the mouth of Kereves Dere.

Over this slightly hollow plain, and these roads and gullies then unnamed, the advance of April 28 was made. The 87th Brigade led upon the left or seacoast flank, and penetrated rapidly over the open ground almost parallel to the Gully Ravine for nearly two miles. As the K.O.S.B. and S.W. Borderers had been separately engaged at Y and S Beaches, the Drake Battalion, R.N.D., took their place, the remainder of the brigade consisting only of the 1st Border Regiment and 1st Inniskillings. The 88th Brigade was on their right; the 86th, which had covered the first landings, was held in reserve under Colonel Casson (S.W. Borderers). In spite of weariness and the prolonged shock of battle, the relics of this unsurpassed Division advanced sturdily against increasing opposition; but by midday their progress was stopped. Small parties came within a short distance of Krithia, but the 86th Brigade reinforced them in vain. There is a human limit even for the bravest; ammunition ran short, and could not be brought up; and only a few guns had yet been landed. The brigades, accordingly, made a rough line conforming with the 88th in the centre, and the hope of reaching Achi Baba faded, though near fulfilment. The French on our right had reached the approaches to Kereves Dere, but an attempt to advance towards Krithia failed. In the afternoon the Turks counter-attacked with the bayonet, and the French line shook. A rapid retirement exposed the Worcesters to heavy loss on their right flank, and a line had to be rapidly secured from a point about three miles up the coast from Tekke Bornu to a point about a mile farther up the strait than De Tott’s Battery. Here it rested, and two days were spent in strengthening the defences and sorting out the confused battalions.

In order to encourage the worn-out divisions (for it was impossible for any soldiers to maintain the spirit of the first landing without flagging), Sir Ian issued the following order on April 29:

The enemy was not long in taking up the challenge. On the 29th, Sir Ian visited the front lines at Helles and Anzac with his personal staff. Next day he visited the British position at Helles again, and on May 1 the French lines in the same manner. There he found the trenches in the firing line incomplete compared with ours, but the celebrated “75’s” were already in action, and from that time onwards the French gunners, never being stinted in shells, were the envy as well as the admiration of our artillery. On May 1 also the promised reinforcements began to arrive, the 29th Indian Infantry Brigade from Egypt, under Major-General Sir Herbert Cox, being the first comers. Hardly had they taken their position as reserve, with some battalions of the R.N.D., when, in the darkness before the waning moon had risen, the Turks began a furious attack upon the whole French and British front. The Turks’ enthusiasm in defence of their splendid city (for the fate of Constantinople was involved) had been further stimulated by the following proclamation over the signature of their German commandant, General von Löwenstern:

The Turks responded to this appeal with unusual hardihood in attack, and it was evident that the best Nizam troops were now on the Peninsula. For this attack 16,000 were employed, with 2000 in reserve.99 They came on in three solid lines. All crawled on hands and knees till the word was given, and the front was allowed no cartridges, but bayonets only. Their first charge aimed in the centre at the 86th Brigade, so much shaken by loss of men and officers. Here they forced a gap, dangerous had not the 5th Royal Scots at once filled it. This battalion (88th Brigade), under Lieutenant-Colonel J. D. R. Wilson, was the only Territorial unit in the 29th Division. It was anxious to prove itself worthy of that unequalled corps, and now it proved itself. Facing to their right flank, the men charged with the bayonet, the Essex (of the same brigade) supporting them. The next attack fell heavily upon the Senegalese, immediately on our right. Two battalions of the Worcesters (also 88th Brigade) were sent to strengthen the line, and later in the night one R.N.D. battalion reinforced the extreme right of the French.

Between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m., the conflict appeared strangely terrific. The boom and flash of guns, the ceaseless repetition of machine-guns and rifles, the shouts of “Allah! Allah!” answered by British cheers and the yells of savage Africans, the liquid brilliance of star shells, the Bengal lights, red, white, and green, fired by Turkish officers from their pistols as signals to their gunners to lengthen range, or to avoid firing on taken trenches and main positions—all produced the din and spectacle of some battle in hell, lit by infernal fireworks. To spectators on the ships or the high ground in our rear, the scene was the more terrible as the bursting shells and variegated lights came farther and farther into the hollow land, down the centre of which the Allies were being forced.

But with approaching light the worst was over, and at dawn the whole of the Allied line advanced to counter-attack. The British forced their way onward for about a quarter of a mile. But the French made no progress. Machine-guns and barbed wire were used by the Turkish defence with deadly result, and before noon the whole of our line was withdrawn to its former position. It had been an appalling night for both forces, and the Turks spent the next day burying their dead under the Red Crescent. That night and the next (May 2 and 3) violent attacks were repeated, especially upon the French front, and terrifying rumours of disaster flew. On May 4 the 2nd Naval Brigade, R.N.D. (under Commodore Backhouse, R.N.), took over part of the French line, and the whole position was reorganised. Next day the Lancashire Fusilier Brigade (East Lancashire Division) disembarked as welcome reinforcement. While Sir Ian was in Egypt he had watched this Division (the 42nd) with admiration, and now, by order from Lord Kitchener, General Maxwell sent it in his support. Barely in time they began to arrive. The Division was under command of Major-General Sir William Douglas, and consisted of the Lancashire Fusiliers (125th Brigade), the East Lancashire (126th), and the Manchester (127th). All were Territorials.100

While the British and French were thus strengthening their hold upon the southern end of the Peninsula, the Anzacs clung desperately to the rugged triangle which was to be “a thorn in the enemy’s side.” By Friday, the 30th, units had been sorted out, the firing line was reinforced by the 1st Light Horse Brigade (Brigadier-General Chauvel) and by four battalions of the R.N.D. Part of the original fighting line, worn out by continuous firing, digging, sleeplessness, and want of warm food, was withdrawn into sheltered gullies to cook and rest. For the next day (May 1) a general advance was ordered. The Australian Division on the right was to make for the villages Koja Dere and Boghali, the mixed Australian and New Zealand Division on the left to attempt the main Sari Bair ridge, leading up to the dominating heights of Chunuk and Koja Tepe. On the previous evening, however, General Monash, commanding the 4th Brigade, and defending the serious gap in the lines at the top of Shrapnel Gully, protested that such a movement would only extend the gap still more dangerously. As it was, the R.N.D. battalions, which had been thrust in to hold this gap at the triangle’s apex, were at that moment very hard pressed, and after further reconnoitring both General Godley and General Bridges appear to have agreed that the contemplated advance was impracticable. At all events it was not attempted.101

To close that gap at the apex was obviously the first essential move, and on Sunday, May 2 (a week after the landing), a determined effort was made. The objective was a round knoll, known as Baby 700, on the slope of Sari Bair. It stood about three hundred yards beyond the lines on Pope’s Hill, and its possession would have blocked the entrance from which the enemy commanded large sections of Monash Gully and Shrapnel Gully. The attempt began at 7 p.m. with a rapid bombardment, and throughout the night the Australians of the 13th and 16th Battalions endeavoured to storm the terrible position. The Otago Battalion was sent in support; then part of the Nelson (R.N.D.), and after midnight the Portsmouth and Chatham (R.M.L.I.). The Australians gained some trenches near the Bloody Angle, but the plateau had by now been carefully fortified with wire and machine-guns. It was impossible for our destroyers, firing up the length of Shrapnel Gully, to distinguish friend from foe. Five shells, perhaps coming from them, temporarily checked and divided the Portsmouth Battalion in its advance. It was speedily rallied, but under the heavy machine-gun and rifle fire no support was able to establish the position at the Bloody Angle. Parties of the 13th, 16th, and Otago Battalions clung to the edges of the steep ascent till far into May 3. But in the end, all survivors returned to the original lines. The attempt failed, and it cost 800 men.102 On the following day (May 4) an effort to seize Gaba Tepe and end the continuous loss inflicted by its shrapnel upon the beach and upon bathers in Anzac Cove also failed, owing to the mass and strength of wire along the edge of the sea. Meantime, the warships had been continuously assisting all troops on sea and land. On the 27th the Queen Elizabeth, hearing from a seaplane that the Goeben had ventured down the strait, apparently with the object of firing over the Peninsula, forestalled that intention by dropping one of her largest shells from near Gaba Tepe into the strait. Narrowly missed, the Goeben retired under shelter of the steep shore, but the Queen Elizabeth’s second shell sank a transport in the middle of the current.

By May 5 the phase of the landing was completed. A firm hold had been gained upon the end of the Peninsula and at Anzac. The world’s history had been enriched by hardly credible examples of courage, élan, and the fortitude of endurance which Napoleon accounted a more valuable quality in soldiers than courage and élan. But the objects specified in the scheme of attack had not been gained. The Turks were still at Krithia. They still held the lines drawn across the slopes of Achi Baba. Koja Dere and Boghali were still far from the eager youths clinging like flies to the Anzac cliffs. Maidos was farther beyond, nor was the fleet a cable’s length nearer to the Narrows than before. It was evident to all that the campaign, deprived of the incalculable advantage of surprise by the hesitation, delay, and disapproval or indifference at home, would now be long and costly in life. Already in ten days the losses were officially reckoned:

These figures give a total casualty list of 13,979. The loss may be realised by another table. On April 30 the Fusilier Brigade (86th) of the 29th Division, out of a normal strength of 104 officers and about 4000 men, mustered as follows:

For no such numbers of casualties had estimate or preparation been made. The casualties, in fact, amounted to something like three times the estimate, and the treatment of the wounded became a serious, if not insoluble, difficulty. In his dispatch, Sir Ian notices that his “Administrative Staff had not reached Mudros by the time when the landings were finally arranged.” We have seen that they did not reach Alexandria from home till April 1; that they were left there to embark the remaining troops and complete the base hospital arrangements, and did not reach Mudros till April 18. The Administrative Staff included Brigadier-General E. M. Woodward, who, as Deputy Adjutant-General, was ultimately responsible for all questions of personnel and casualties. And it included Surgeon-General W. E. Birrell, who, as Director of Military Services, was immediately responsible for the treatment of the wounded. In the absence of these officers, Sir Ian says “all the highly elaborate work involved by these landings was put through by my General Staff working in collaboration with Commodore Roger Keyes,” who was Chief of the Staff to Admiral de Robeck. But Lieutenant-Colonel A. E. C. Keble, R.A.M.C., Assistant Director of Medical Services, reached Mudros before the chief officers of the Administrative Staff, and to him, as above noticed, the scheme for dealing with the wounded was due. Merely owing to a mistaken estimate of the enemy’s opposition, the means provided were inadequate for the actual numbers. As we have seen, only two hospital ships, each accommodating about 500 cases, had been allotted for the army. The navy lent two more, and supplied such transport as could now be spared, but these were not fitted with hospital necessities. Doctors, nurses, and orderlies, all were short. Army surgeons and stretcher-bearers displayed their fine devotion in bringing the wounded to the beaches both at Helles and Anzac; but in spite of the navy’s energy and fearlessness in control of the boats, many of the wounded remained waiting long for treatment; in one case a fleet-sweeper crowded with Australian wounded went wandering from ship to ship in vain, and at last tied up against the General Headquarters ship (at that time, May 9, the Arcadian, to which Sir Ian had transferred); and upon the transports taking them to Alexandria—a voyage of two to three days and nights—the wounded suffered much. Many were unable to move without help, and no help was there. Most had been treated only with first dressings. In some cases the wounds corrupted. Many died. Warships, like the Cornwallis, afforded as much room as they could, acting as clearing-stations for the wounded, and transmitting the dead to a trawler which daily went round the fleet to collect them.104 The efforts of the fleet surgeons were untiring. But no scheme and no effort could avail against a false estimate of the enemy’s strength and defensive power. Rightly or wrongly, the campaign had from the first been regarded in London as of secondary importance, and secondary provision had been made for an estimate of secondary loss.

My main authorities for this chapter, as for the last, have been the Dispatches of Sir Ian Hamilton and Admiral de Robeck, Mr. Ashmead Bartlett’s Dispatches from the Dardanelles, the late Phillip Schuler’s Australia in Arms, the Rev. D. Creighton’s With the Twenty-ninth Division in Gallipoli, The Immortal Gamble, by Commander A. T. Stewart, R.N., and the Rev. C. J. E. Peshall, With Machine-guns in Gallipoli, by Lieutenant-Commander Josiah Wedgwood, M.P., and my own observation of the ground and conversations with eye-witnesses on the spot.