The great assault of the second week in August, extending from Lone Pine to Kiretch Tepe Sirt, and having the mountain height of Chunuk Bair as the centre of its line, must be described as a failure. It failed of its objects—the objects of the whole military campaign—to open the Straits for the fleet, to secure the possession of Constantinople, to hold all the Balkan States steady for our Alliance, to complete the blockade of the Central Powers by land and sea, to divert any possible threat towards Egypt, or towards the Persian Gulf, and so to hasten the termination of the war. The aim of this fine strategical conception was not accomplished, and the causes of failure have been suggested in the narrative of the three preceding chapters. Incidents and accidents contributed—the gallant but hopeless attempt to cross the Nek in face of the Chessboard redoubt, the gallant but unsuccessful attempts to hold the summits at Chunuk Bair and “Hill Q,” the error of Baldwin’s brigade, the confusion of the landing inside Suvla Bay, the separation of the units in the 10th Division, the immobility of the 11th Division on August 7 and 8, the breakdown of the water supply through want of receptacles, the unwitting recall of a battalion from Scimitar Hill on the evening of Sunday the 8th, and the apparent failure of the Higher Command at Suvla to realise the vital necessity of speed and energy, no matter at what cost, during the four critical days from the morning of the 7th to the evening of the 10th.

But at the back of all these causes of failure lay the ultimate reason that many of the troops employed, especially at Suvla, were not strong or experienced enough for the difficult task of attacking an enemy posted in the most favourable positions for defence, over an unknown, complicated, and deserted country, and in unaccustomed conditions of intense heat and insatiable thirst. Few in the New Army or Territorial Divisions were acquainted with the realities of war; few had been exposed to its sudden and overwhelming perils. They had neither the traditions, nor the veteran experience, nor the disciplined self-confidence of the Regular Army. They had neither the physique, nor the adventurous spirit, nor the intense national bond of the Anzacs. What they might have done under more decisive or youthful or inspiring leadership we can judge only from their subsequent rapid improvement even upon the Peninsula, and from their excellent service in later campaigns—such service as was performed in Palestine by these Territorial Divisions. But in August 1915 their leadership was not conspicuously decisive, youthful, or inspiring. And so it came about that General Stopford suffered the worst fate which can befall a commanding officer in the field.

On the other hand, the gain had been considerable. The important, though not vital positions of the Vineyard at Helles, and Lone Pine on the right front at Anzac, had been won. In the centre, the Anzac Corps were relieved from an arduous, if not untenable, situation. It could now move freely over a widely extended ground; many points formerly harassed by the enemy’s guns and snipers were now secure; water-springs had been gained; and the lines were drawn three or four miles nearer the summits of Sari Bair. On the left, Suvla Bay afforded a more sheltered winter roadstead than Kephalos. The lofty ridge of Kiretch Tepe Sirt was ours to the summit, and the wide plain around the Salt Lake, including Chocolate and Green Hills, was ours also. We held the entrance of the broad valley leading up to Biyuk Anafarta, and, but for the risk from occasional snipers, communication with Anzac was freely open.197 To these great advantages must be added the heavy losses inflicted upon the Turks—losses, however, which were counterbalanced by our own, and could be more speedily replaced.

The immediate weakness of our position was due to the enemy’s continued occupation of the heights in the range of varied mountain and plateau from Ejelmer Bay to W Hill; for guns on those heights commanded the greater part of the Salt Lake plain and the positions round the bay, especially on the north side, where our main landing-places and headquarters were situated. Another weakness was the enemy’s occupation of Hill 60 (Kaiajik Aghala), which faces W Hill across the Biyuk Anafarta valley and commanded the approach to the upper reaches, as well as threatening the communication between Anzac and Suvla. Reckoning up the advantages gained, and refusing to be discouraged by the ill-success of his main design, Sir Ian resolved at once to remove these causes of weakness by a renewal of the combined attack. It was probable also that, if the reinforced Turkish Army were allowed to remain undisturbed, it would assume a violent offensive, especially directed against Suvla.

The losses during the second week in August had been serious—not less than 30,000 on all three fronts together. Sir Ian estimated his total force at 95,000 in the middle of August (40,000, including 17,000 French troops, at Helles; 25,000 at Anzac; under 30,000 at Suvla).198 But this was a sanguine estimate. The real fighting strength of the British and Anzac troops was probably not over 60,000, and of the French about 15,000. The British Divisions alone were short by nearly 1500 officers. On August 16 he telegraphed to Lord Kitchener stating that 45,000 rifles to fill up gaps in the British Divisions, and 50,000 rifles as fresh reinforcements, were essential for a quick and victorious decision.199 Unfortunately, as it now appears, the great strategic and political conception of the Dardanelles had now less support than ever in the Cabinet. The fall of Warsaw (August 4) had destroyed the last hope of Russian co-operation. The influence of the “Westerners” was supreme. The attempt to break through the German line at Loos in September was already in preparation, and all available forces were concentrated upon that. By various means, an increasingly despondent or hostile criticism of the Gallipoli campaign was insinuated throughout the country, and Sir Ian’s request for further assistance was refused. The hesitating Cabinet may have hoped that, if the Western offensive succeeded, the Dardanelles campaign, after remaining suspended for two or three months, might then be pushed forward again without loss of opportunity. If that was their expectation, they had forgotten Napoleon’s maxim, that war is like a woman in that, if once you miss your opportunity, you need never expect to find either war or woman the same again.

All the reinforcement allowed for the moment was the 2nd Mounted Division from Egypt, where it had been in training since April. This Division of four brigades, numbering just under 5000 men, was composed of Yeomanry regiments from the Midland and Southern counties. The men were of singularly fine physique, accustomed to hunting, and well trained in cavalry manœuvres. But, like all “mounted” forces on the Peninsula, they left their horses in Egypt and fought on foot. They were under the command of Major-General William Peyton, a cavalry officer, who had served with distinction in Egypt and South Africa, and was now about fifty.200 His Brigadiers and regimental officers were also cavalrymen of distinction, and, so far as its numbers allowed, the Division could be counted upon to strengthen any attack.201

But, however excellent in itself, the Mounted Division was not numerous enough to give stability to the Suvla Divisions, most of which were still fatigued and disheartened by the ill success of their first attempts at warfare.202 In the hope of affording the much-needed stiffening to the IXth Corps, Major-General De Lisle, accordingly, was instructed to bring the three brigades of his own 29th Division round from Helles by night, and land them at Suvla for the attack. They were under the command of their next senior officer, Major-General W. R. Marshall of the 87th Brigade. De Lisle himself, being in temporary command of the IXth Corps, directed the whole action. His scheme was very simple. On his right, the 11th Division was to assault the trenches which the Turks had now dug across the Biyuk Anafarta valley or plain, south and a little east of Chocolate and Green Hills, and so to protect the right flank until the moment came for a general attack upon W Hill, the ultimate objective of the whole movement. On his centre, the 29th Division was to storm Scimitar Hill, the possession of which, as before explained, was essential to any advance against W Hill itself. To his left, the long line from Sulajik Farm across the wooded plain up to the summit of Kiretch Tepe was held by the two Territorial Divisions, the 53rd and 54th, so as to check any attempt to turn the flank on that side by getting behind our attacking force. Chocolate Hill, 1000 yards from the summit of Scimitar Hill, was the centre of our advance, and on the night of August 20–21 the 29th Division entered the trenches close to the left of that hill, the 11th Division stretching down the slope and into the plain on the right.

The action was to open with the customary bombardment, intended to shatter the enemy’s trenches. For this purpose, two battleships and two cruisers were available, and on land the IXth Corps’ artillery now counted two R.F.A. Brigades (short of horses), two heavy batteries, two mountain batteries, and two batteries of 5-inch howitzers.203 For an Army Corps of nominally six Divisions the number of guns was absurdly small. But as the front to be attacked measured only a mile, it was hoped the bombardment would be effective. Unfortunately, even this hope was frustrated by a condition which could not be foreseen. Usually, in the afternoon, the prospect from Suvla towards the hills is brilliantly clear. The whole range stands visible in every detail. The westering sun appears to reveal every kink and cranny, every tree and mass of bush. Even as far away as Sari Bair, the rocks of Koja Chemen ravine, the “chimney” down the face of Chunuk Bair, and the yellow patch of the Farm are distinct in the clear air and sunlight. For this reason the afternoon had been chosen for attack, the sun being then behind us, but glaring, as might be hoped, in the enemy’s eyes. But that day it so happened that the whole country was covered with a thin grey mist, as on an October morning in England. From the sea, the hills were dim. From the front, all details were obscured. Sir Ian, who had come over from Imbros, wished to postpone the attack, and prudence might have been wise for once. But he tells us that “various reasons” which remain unknown, but were perhaps concerned with the presence of the 29th Division in the Suvla sphere, made postponement impossible.

Accordingly, at 2.45 a violent bombardment began, directed upon Scimitar and W Hills. It was a terrific sight. Our large shells flung up great spouts and fountains of earth and stones, so that the summits smoked with repeated eruption. At the same time, the air was full of the white balls of bursting shrapnel. But the Turks could answer now. At first they directed their shrapnel and high explosives upon Chocolate Hill, where we had twenty-eight machine-guns in position. Besides the guns on W Hill, the Turks now had guns concealed somewhere on the Anafarta plateau or on the foothills of Tekke Tepe, whence they could bring a converging fire to bear. Their bombardment of our position was very heavy. The shells tore at our parapets. The air above our trenches hissed with bullets and fragments. Many of us were struck. But at 3.15 our infantry began to advance.204

On the right the 34th Brigade (now under Brigadier-General J. Hill) advanced successfully across the narrow front of plain between the small farms of Hetman Chair and Aire Kavak (a quarter-mile south of Hetman). They took the trenches on the plain without great loss. But the 32nd Brigade (now under Lieut.-Colonel J. T. R. Wilson), which was to have kept in touch with them at Hetman Chair, and to have seized a long trench running thence towards W Hill, lost direction and kept edging off to their left or north-east, instead of due east. The plain is open but for a sprinkling of small trees, and the mist was not thick enough to confuse. They may have been attracted by the chance of cover among the slopes leading up to the hills on their left, and the fire from the long communication trench was certainly very severe. It was still more unfortunate that when the 33rd Brigade (Maxwell’s) was sent up to capture the trench at all costs, they “fell into precisely the same error,” as we are told. Some of the brigade followed the 32nd to the left; some edged away to their right in the direction of Susuk Kuyu, which must have taken them behind the 34th Brigade, almost into the Anzac country. But as we are further told that the 32nd, though without success, attempted to rectify the error by bravely attacking the trench from the north-east, the solution remains uncertain.205 The attack on that side did not develop further. After 4.30 p.m. one could perceive that the battalions were confused, and still suffering heavily both from that long and loopholed trench which ran across the open almost diagonally to their right flank, and from most formidable trenches which the Turks had now visibly constructed right across the sombre face of W Hill, against which they showed up as lines of whitish grey, loopholed also and roofed with head-cover. Parties tried to press forward here and there, and the dead lay scattered. Two stretcher-bearers I saw quietly going up a slope under very heavy fire, when both fell dead simultaneously, dropping on hands and knees, so that the stretcher remained supported on their shoulders after they were dead. But no individual courage could retrieve the error of direction.

The attack in the centre suffered from the mistake. The 29th Division now contained far less than half of the troops who landed in April. Few indeed of their original officers were left, few of the trusted sergeants and corporals whom they knew. They had been brought hurriedly into the midst of an unknown scene, and found themselves included between lines of unknown and untried battalions. Their former General was gone. His successor was compelled to remain in the Corps Headquarters far away on Karakol Dagh. The Division was commanded by the C.O. of a brigade. None the less, this indomitable Division, in this its last battle upon the Peninsula, displayed to the last the indomitable spirit habitual to its nature, and fought with the same proud self-sacrifice and confident enthusiasm as had distinguished it at the landing.

Between 3.30 and 4, the 87th Brigade (2nd South Wales Borderers, 1st K.O.S.B., 1st Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, and 1st Border Regiment) advanced from our front trenches, and began working up through the bush on the left front of Scimitar Hill. At first they were partially concealed by the thickets or covered by dead ground in ravines. Reaching the top of the slope, they charged forward to the summit. The Inniskillings, who were leading, actually gained it. They drove the Turks back along the communication trenches towards Anafarta Sagir. They even pursued them down the reverse slope, which is not steep but runs without much fall toward the village plateau. For a few minutes the Hill was ours. But still stronger trenches had been constructed on the edge of the plateau beyond. They were invisible from the ascent to Scimitar Hill; but from Chocolate Hill we could see fire flashing from them, and Turks springing on to the parapets to pour bullets upon our scattered line as it advanced. At the same time the enemy’s guns on W Hill and on the concealed point near the foot of Tekke Tepe hurled a storm of incessant shrapnel over the summit of Scimitar Hill and all its slopes. The converging fire was intolerable. Unless help came speedily, the position could not be held. It is doubtful whether any help could have retained the hold. But none came.

On the right of the hill the 86th Brigade (2nd Royal Fusiliers, 1st Lancashire Fusiliers, 1st Munster Fusiliers, and 1st Dublin Fusiliers) was intended to storm the position in a similar manner from that side. But as they advanced they found their progress hindered by battalions of the 32nd and 33rd Brigades, which, as narrated above, had edged off to their left instead of keeping their direction straight forward and working on parallel lines with the 29th Division. Battalions in the three brigades thus converged and became confused. The men were mixed up in the shallow valley beyond Green Hill and upon the south-west slopes of Scimitar Hill. Instead of being covered by the 11th Division as intended, the right flank of the 29th Division was hampered and almost paralysed. Such battalions as got clear attempted to work up that side of the hill, turning north-east. But the confusion was increased by a raging fire, which with long tongues of flame consumed what was left of the bush around the base of the hill already called “Burnt,” and entirely shut off co-operation with the 87th Brigade on the left. Such parties as reached the broad bare patch of ravine from which the other name of “Scimitar” was derived, became at once exposed to the storm of shrapnel and rifle-fire. Sir Ian in his dispatch says, “The leading troops were simply swept off the top of the spur, and had to fall back to a ledge south-west of Scimitar Hill, where they found a little cover.” If the “top of the spur” means the summit of the hill, it is certain that none of this brigade ever reached it. The Inniskillings were the only men who occupied it even for a time.

About five o’clock the Yeomanry Division was ordered to advance from the cover of Lala Baba, where it had remained in reserve, and to take up its position under the slighter cover of Chocolate Hill. In extended order the small brigades, each numbering about 350, advanced with the steadiness and regularity of parade across the bare and fully exposed level of the Salt Lake. Some of the enemy’s guns diverted their fire from Scimitar Hill and showered shrapnel over the slowly moving lines. But their regularity was exactly maintained, and owing to the accurate distance kept in the intervals the loss was small. Only too eager to reach the firing line, they forced their way through the reserves of the 11th Division around the slopes on the left side of Chocolate Hill, and plunged into the brigades at the centre of the lines, already so much confused and embarrassed. There was much delay, and in places the crowding troops exposed themselves unnecessarily to heavy fire. But the 2nd South Midland Brigade (Bucks, Berks, and Dorsets) concentrated, as was intended, behind Chocolate Hill itself, and was at last able to advance with fair cohesion. Very slowly the men made their way across our trenches to the left front of the hill, and through the difficult and intricate ground beyond, still swept by the flames of the burning bushes, and encumbered by groups of men who had lost leadership. It was past seven by the time they reached the foot of the main ascent, and began to work their way up through fire and smoke and shrapnel.

At 7.30, through the gathering obscurity of mists and evening, we from the parapet in front of Chocolate Hill dimly discerned a crowd of khaki figures struggling at full speed up that broad, bare patch of the “Scimitar.” They seemed to gain the summit, and then darkness covered them. All thought the terrible position was won at last, and though there was no cheering, and hardly a word was said, all felt the joy of hope renewed. We did not know the hope was disappointed as soon as raised. The cross-fire of shrapnel, machine-guns, and rifles from the two hidden trenches beyond the summit, swept off the Yeomanry as it had swept off the 87th Brigade at an earlier hour. Hearing that the position was utterly untenable, General Marshall was compelled to order a withdrawal to the original line, and in the darkness the sorely tried and exhausted men came back. One regiment, working round the right of the hill later in the evening, gained a knoll between Scimitar and W Hills, apparently near the Abrikja Farm, and reported they had taken W Hill itself. When the mistake was discovered, they also were withdrawn, for in daylight they would have been exterminated there.206

This unsuccessful attempt to capture the hill so ominously known as “Scimitar,” and occupied, it may be remembered, without opposition by a single battalion on Sunday evening, August 8, cost little less than 6500 casualties. Most of the loss fell on the 29th Division, but the Yeomanry lost nearly 1000 of their small force, and among the killed were Brigadier-General F. A. Kenna, V.C. (formerly of the 21st Lancers), Brigadier-General the Earl of Longford (formerly of the 2nd Life Guards), whose body was never found, and Sir John Milbanke, V.C. (formerly of the 10th Hussars), commanding the Sherwood Rangers.207 The failure of the attempt had proved that even when acting in combination with the finest Regulars, inexperienced and untried brigades cannot be hurried into the firing lines of an important attack without risk of confusion or collapse. For neither in officers nor in men had the sense of leadership, confidence, or even of direction been trained into an instinct strong enough to bear the strain of the shocks and confused impressions inevitable to a violently opposed advance.

On the south or Anzac side of the broad valley leading up to Biyuk Anafarta, the action was far more successful. The main object in this region was to secure complete possession of the Kaiajik Aghala, that rough and intersected ridge partly occupied by the 4th Australian Infantry Brigade during the general attack upon Sari Bair a fortnight earlier. That brigade, reduced to some 1500 men, now held a position separated by a deep creek from the main ridge, the whole of which, and especially the broad and flattish eminence at the northern extremity, had been occupied by the Turks and strongly fortified. The white lines of their trenches were visible from Suvla and the whole district, the earth being whitish there, as though mixed with chalk. The eminence, which we knew as Hill 60, was chequered with these lines, and resembled the back of a large tortoise with the markings picked out in white. It was, indeed, converted into a fortress commanding the broad and flattish valley between it and W Hill about one and a half miles away. As before explained, the possession of Hill 60 was essential for the security of communication between Anzac and Suvla. If W Hill had been occupied, Biyuk Anafarta and the northern approaches to Koja Chemen Tepe would also have lain open.

Only a short distance west of Hill 60, just where the ridge begins to rise from the plain, two wells called Kabak (or Kaba) Kuyu are situated, equally desirable to the enemy and to ourselves. These also the Turks had strongly fortified, and our first stroke was to seize them. Major-General Sir Herbert Cox, who was in command of the whole movement, had at his disposal his own Indian Brigade, two regiments (Canterbury and Otago) of New Zealand Mounted Rifles, a mixed force of the 4th Australian Infantry Brigade, the 4th South Wales Borderers (40th Brigade, 13th Division), the 5th Connaught Rangers, and the 10th Hampshires (both of the 29th Brigade, 10th Division, now under Lieut.-Colonel Agnew).208 His guns were commanded by Brigadier-General Napier Johnston. He arranged his line so as to have the 5th Gurkhas in the open ground on his extreme left, guarding the communication with Suvla, the Connaught Rangers in the centre opposite the wells, the New Zealanders under Brigadier-General Russell to the right of them, the Hampshires in support of the Australians who attacked on the right, and the remainder in reserve. After a preliminary but insufficient bombardment, the advance began about 3.30 p.m. on August 21, almost exactly at the same time as the attack upon Scimitar Hill across the broad valley.

The moment the guns ceased, the Connaught Rangers, who were finely commanded throughout by Lieut.-Colonel Jourdain, issued from a ravine in the maze of Damakjelik Hill, where they had lain concealed all day. “With a yell like hounds breaking covert,” they dashed forward by platoons in line. They had nearly 400 yards to run, and the ground was open. A terrible fire from the parapets around the wells and from the slopes of Hill 60 itself met them at once. Without firing a shot in answer, they charged forward with bayonets level. It was a race which a young officer won—an International football player for Ireland. The Turks stood the wild onset, but not for long. In a few minutes they had died or escaped; the wells were ours, the communications cleared. A reserve company charged still farther forward to assist the New Zealanders at the foot of Hill 60, but was almost exterminated.209 The remainder became scattered in the confusion of the assault, lost direction, and were not re-formed till nightfall.

To the right of the Connaught Rangers, the New Zealanders issued at the same time from the almost inextricable gullies of the Damakjelik, but between them and Hill 60 ran a singularly deep ravine, one of the branches of the Kaiajik Dere. In climbing down the steep side of this ravine, entangled in prickly bushes, many fell to the bullets poured from the opposite trenches, and the bodies of many who fell there could not be recovered for burial. The only chance for safety was to rush down to the bottom of the ravine and shelter in the dead ground against the steep side of the hill itself. The New Zealanders made the rush, and some succeeded in climbing up the dead ground opposite and driving the enemy out from 50 yards of his lowest trench. Others remained clinging to the steep side, and there a few of the South Wales Borderers, who came between the New Zealanders and the Connaught Rangers, succeeded in joining them. Three hundred yards farther to their right, a party of the 4th Australian Brigade rushed across the ravine in the same manner, and the hundred who came over untouched also clung to the side of the hill just below the trench. So the night was passed, our men along the steep dead ground just holding their position, but exposed to repeated bombing from the trench above them. Fortunately, the Australian Brigade dug a deep zigzag right across the middle of the ravine as a communication trench, thus rendering the approach over the upper or southern reach of the Dere fairly secure. During the night also many wounded, lying on the exposed slope of the ravine, and drawing attention by their cries, were brought in. But the hours passed in great peril and discomfort.210

Next morning a new battalion (the 18th Australian) appeared. It had arrived at Anzac only the day before as the first instalment of the 2nd Australian Division, commanded by Major-General J. G. Legge, who had occupied various military positions in New South Wales, had served in South Africa, and represented Australia on the Imperial General Staff.211 Early on August 22 the 18th Battalion (Lieut.-Colonel A. E. Chapman) passed through the Gurkhas on our left, and charging across the open, fought their way up the northern end of the hill and captured another piece of the outer trench. Bombed and enfiladed there, most of them struggled along the trench to their right—a difficult task, for the Turks had dug it so deep and narrow that only one man at a time could squeeze along it. Thus they linked up with the New Zealanders, still in the same position where they had passed the night. The trench, in fact, ran continuously all round the oval of the hill, and for the next five days we could but cling on to the small segment gained. Meantime the Connaught Rangers were withdrawn for four days to rest. They had lost 12 officers and over 250 men.212 After the first attack, the 29th (British) Brigade under Colonel Agnew was employed by General Russell to dig a communication trench past Kaba Kuyu to Hill 60. They therefore had little rest.

The hill was not taken, but so important was the position considered that Major-General Cox was instructed to attack once more on August 27, three weeks after the beginning of the great battle of Suvla-Sari Bair. The fighting round Hill 60 had, in fact, been almost continuous since the 21st. The battalions were now worn so thin by losses and sickness (especially by dysentery) that definite numbers of men were allotted for action instead of units. On the right, 350 men were chosen from the 4th Australian Brigade; in the centre, 100 Maoris and 300 New Zealanders from the Mounted Rifles Brigade (Auckland, Canterbury, Wellington, and Otago), together with 100 of the new 18th Australian Battalion; on the left, 250 of the Connaught Rangers—only 1100 men in all.213 This attacking party was under the direct command of Brigadier-General Russell.

The action began at 4 p.m. with the usual, as it was the last, bombardment. Sir Ian describes it as “the heaviest we could afford,” and certainly it appeared sufficient to flatten out any trenches. None the less, as was usual from first to last in this campaign, its terrors were deceptive, and the moment that the assaulting parties advanced they were met by overwhelming fire. The Australians on the right were swept back by a whole battery of machine-guns. The Connaught Rangers on the left, though much enfeebled by dysentery, charged upon the northern trenches with their accustomed enthusiasm. Torn by accurate shrapnel as they ran forward, they still fought their way into the first narrow trench, and occupied it by 6 p.m. But all that evening and night, by the light of the crescent moon, the Turks stormed down upon them in successive waves, shouting their battle-cry of “Allah! Allah!” At 10.30 p.m. they bombed and shot the Rangers out of the northern extremity, and drove them along the trench upon the centre. It was in vain that their own reserves (forty-four sick men!) came up to reinforce, and the 9th Light Horse (3rd Australian Light Horse Brigade) attempted about midnight to recapture the position. Only in the centre were the New Zealanders able to cling tight to the 150 yards they had by this time already won.

All next day (August 28) the Turkish attacks upon that position continued with repeated violence. The shattered remnants of the Connaught Rangers were withdrawn, but still the New Zealanders held on through the long hours and the next night, until at 1 a.m. on the 29th all that remained of the 10th Light Horse, after their wild assault upon the Nek three weeks before, formed up in the trenches occupied by the New Zealanders, and stormed across the centre of the fortified hill, driving the enemy sheer off the circumference of the western semicircle. The eastern side of the hill was never taken, but our line was advanced till it ran across the summit, and there consolidated. Our loss was about 1000. The Turkish loss was roughly estimated at 5000, and we captured 46 prisoners and a considerable quantity of rifles and ammunition, besides three trench-mortars and three machine-guns. It was not a great action judged by the standard of the battles in the war elsewhere. But it was an action worthy of the persistence, courage, and endurance displayed throughout by Anzacs, Irish, and British upon the Peninsula; and it was the last.

The whole of the Anzac force, which had never left the fighting zone since the landing in April, was now gradually withdrawn by battalions (only 200 or 300 men in each) to rest in Mudros, their places being filled in turn by the newly arrived 2nd Australian Division, which, however, was not completely settled upon that hard-won ground till after the first week in September.214 The 54th (East Anglian) Division was also brought round from Suvla, Major-General Inglefield’s headquarters being dug upon the Aghyl Dere, and his Division extended north over the ravines of Damakjelik up to the confines of Hill 60 itself. But the 13th Division, now under Major-General F. Stanley Maude, was returned to the IXth Corps at Suvla, so that Anzac did not gain.