The departure of a Commander-in-Chief acts upon an army like sudden heart disease in a man, or the collapse of a ship’s steering-gear. All is at once bewilderment and uncertainty. A sense of loss and change and failure pervades all ranks. The daily routine appears hardly worth the trouble of accurate performance, and for enterprise no spirit is left. This is so, even when the General stands aloof and regards his men with small esteem, as was Wellington’s way; but the depression is increased when the recall removes one who is by nature tempted to companionship in action, and who, at the lowest ebb of fortune, stands always ready with the encouraging word and the outwardly serene aspect of hope.

In General Birdwood, it is true, such another leader was found. His adventurous and sunny spirit, always alert, free of intercourse, and incapable of depression, made him accepted as Sir Ian’s natural successor by all except the few whose minds were set immovably towards despair. Yet, in spite of this well-justified confidence, the mere fact of the change suggested speculation upon other changes, and the pulse of action flagged, as though paralysed by uncertainty. In this condition General Sir Charles Monro found the army when, after two days spent in the Headquarters at Imbros, he visited the Peninsula on October 30. He was a man of fifty-five, who before the war had performed the services usual to an officer of that period in South Africa, India, and at home. During the war he had won reputation in high command on the Western Front. The Government had sent him out with a view to obtaining the report of an unbiased opinion, and by appointing a General from the Western Front, and a man of opposite temperament to his predecessor’s, they had ensured themselves against any possible bias, at all events in one direction. His orders were to report upon the military situation; to give an opinion whether on purely military grounds the Peninsula should be evacuated; and, otherwise, to estimate the troops required (1) to carry the Peninsula, (2) to keep the Straits open, and (3) to take Constantinople.226

Upon all these points General Monro formed a rapid and decisive opinion. He represented the military situation as unique in history, and in every respect unfavourable. The Force, he maintained, held a line possessing every possible military defect. The position was without depth, the communications insecure and dependent on weather, the entrenchments dominated almost throughout by the enemy, the possible artillery positions insufficient and defective, whereas the enemy enjoyed full powers of observation, abundant artillery positions and opportunity to supplement the natural advantages by all the devices of engineering. For the troops, they could not be withdrawn to rest out of the shell-swept area, because every corner of the Peninsula was exposed; they were much enervated by the endemic diseases of the summer; there was a grave dearth of competent officers; and the Territorial Divisions had been augmented by makeshifts in the form of Yeomanry and Mounted Brigades. As to military objects, the Turks could hold the army in front with a small force; an advance could not be regarded as a reasonable operation to expect; and any idea of capturing Constantinople was quite out of the question. These considerations, in General Monro’s opinion, made it urgent to divert the troops locked up on the Peninsula to a more useful theatre, and convinced him that a complete evacuation was the only wise course to pursue.227

About that judgment there was, at all events, no hesitating ambiguity. Having condemned the whole expedition, root and branch, the General was obviously not called upon to discuss such minor details as reinforcements, or the reports of Turkish exhaustion and demoralisation, or the exact “theatre” in which the army would be likely to immobilise so large a Turkish force (Mr. Asquith estimated it as 200,000),228 and restrain them from co-operating in further assaults upon Mesopotamia or Egypt. To be sure, there was Salonika as a possible alternative; but Sir Charles Monro must have been aware that Serbia was by that time past saving, and that the transference of the Gallipoli army to Salonika would simply relieve Turkey of all anxiety and restraint. The probable loss of prestige and of men involved in the evacuation does not appear to have influenced his decision; and, indeed, as the event afterwards proved, the loss in both was vastly overestimated by the advocates of evacuation as well as by its opponents.

The report was, naturally, grateful to such of the Generals on the spot and such of Sir Ian’s former Staff as had already abandoned hope. Some, indeed, were now of opinion that the evacuation should have been ordered at midsummer or before. Still more welcome was the report to the party in England which had always distrusted the Dardanelles adventure, and had so largely contributed to its failure both by their depreciation and by their encouragement to irresponsible counsellors of despair. They kept their thoughts fixed upon the Western Front, since, by a law of human nature, interest varies directly with proximity, and some mental or imaginative effort is required to realise the importance of distant undertakings. Already (on October 14, two days before Sir Ian’s recall) Lord Milner had made the following statement in the House of Lords:

Lord Lansdowne, naturally, deprecated so public a suggestion; but Lord Milner found support in Lord Ribblesdale, who urged the Government to “get out of the unfortunate adventure.”229 A few days afterwards (October 18) Sir Edward Carson, the Attorney-General, resigned in protest against the Government’s hesitation to evacuate the Peninsula and concentrate upon Serbia’s protection, for which, however, any efforts would then have been at least a month too late. Thus impelled, Mr. Asquith’s Cabinet, in hopes of justifying their firm resolution to adopt one course or the other, decided upon another preliminary step. They commissioned Lord Kitchener to visit the Dardanelles in person and assume the responsibility of decision.

Lord Kitchener left England on November 5, and on reaching Mudros consulted with Sir Charles Monro, who meantime had visited Egypt and now returned in company with Sir H. McMahon, the High Commissioner, and Sir John Maxwell, Commanding the Forces in Egypt. On his part, Lord Kitchener was strongly opposed to evacuation. His military and political instinct showed him the advantage of maintaining this “thorn in the side” of Turkey, even if no farther advance were possible during the winter,—an advantage illustrated too late when Kut-el-Amara fell in the following April. Some of the most active spirits in the navy were also continually urging a renewed attempt to force the Narrows with the fleet now that ships were far more numerous, the position was better understood, and the army could at least effect a strong diversion on the Peninsula and protect the communications in case of success. To them, as to many of the Generals ashore, it seemed still possible to retrieve the situation and terminate the war from the Eastern side. But on the Aragon at Mudros Lord Kitchener was surrounded by advocates of evacuation. We know with what solicitous anxiety he always regarded any possible danger that might threaten Egypt, and the highest representatives of our authority there were present, always ready to urge the danger of a Turco-German invasion from the East, and trouble with the Senussi on the West. Sir Charles Monro was also present, and we have seen his opinion—an opinion decisively supported by his Staff. Support also came from one or two recently attached members of Sir Ian’s old Staff. As one among them said, “We brought Lord Kitchener round to our way of thinking.”230

This congenial task, perhaps less difficult than it might have proved ten years before, was no doubt rendered easier still by Lord Kitchener’s hurried visits to the main points on the Peninsula. At Helles the visit was little more than a call upon the Headquarters of the VIIIth Corps, and a walk among the remnant of the French force at Seddel Bahr. At Anzac (November 13), the Australians received Lord Kitchener with an enthusiasm due to his massive personality and his record of service. With resolute energy, outdistancing his retinue, he strode up the steep ascent of Walker’s Ridge to Russell’s Top, and penetrated the front trenches whence the assault upon the Nek had started to destruction. By coincidence, it was a day of singular calm, and not a shot or shell was fired. At Suvla, in the same way, he climbed up Karakol Dagh to a prominent cluster of rocks whence a wide view is obtained over the Salt Lake and the plain to the encompassing arc of heights still held by the enemy, and to the unassailed eminence of Koja Chemen Tepe and the fateful bastion of Chunuk Bair beyond. At the conclusion of a Special Order issued to the Anzac Corps (now under command of General Godley), General Birdwood wrote:

The passage, though apparently confident, was guarded. Upon a sudden and hurried visit to such scenes, even the shrewdest and most rapid mind would be likely to exaggerate the disadvantages of the unusual positions, without taking account of trenches and shelters rendered impenetrable, or of supplies stored in quantity to defy the weather on sea; and Lord Kitchener’s mind was deliberative and vasty rather than shrewdly alert to the moment. But ultimately it was the political situation, and especially the deflection of Bulgaria into open hostility, together with the stealthy neutrality of King Constantine, which compelled Lord Kitchener and even the most high-spirited of the Peninsula Generals reluctantly to assent to the surrender of hope.

While at Mudros, Lord Kitchener ordered General Monro to assume command of all British forces in the Mediterranean east of Malta, excluding Egypt. General Monro naturally divided these forces into the “Salonika Army,” under command of Lieut.-General Sir Bryan Mahon, and the “Dardanelles Army,” under command of Lieut.-General Sir William Birdwood. Part of the original Headquarters Staff of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force was now transferred from Imbros to the Aragon in Mudros harbour, where Sir Charles Monro himself fixed his headquarters. For there he could keep closely in touch with General Altham, Inspector-General, Line of Communications, whose energy and accurate organisation continued to confront the perpetual or increasing difficulties caused by weather, submarines, and the absence of wharves and piers for transferring all ordnance and engineering stores from one ship to another. General Birdwood henceforward to the last retained command upon the Peninsula, and to him the main credit for the unexpected issue of the following weeks is due. He and his Staff occupied the newly constructed headquarters at the foot of the hills rather more than a mile from the chief landing-stage at Imbros, handing over his command at Anzac to General Godley, as has been mentioned.

Few events varied the monotony of trench warfare. The mine-sweeper Hythe was sunk in collision on October 28 and 155 men lost, including two military officers. The submarine E20 was sunk in the Sea of Marmora early in November, Lieut.-Commander Clyfford and nine others being rescued and made prisoner. On November 15 part of the 156th Brigade (52nd Division) captured nearly 300 yards of Turkish trench between the Vineyard and the Gully Ravine. Once or twice the Turks attempted half-hearted attacks both at Helles and Anzac, but were easily repulsed. For the rest, little was done, except bombing, mining, and preparing for the winter. Wooden beams and sheets of plate iron arrived in some quantity, and were especially needed at Anzac. The beaches were, as far as possible, cleared. Stores which had been piled up in the gullies were removed to higher positions. On the left, among the Anzac foothills, Brigadier-General Monash ordered vast caverns to be excavated as sheltered barracks for his 4th Brigade. Up at the “Apex,” long subterranean galleries were dug clean through the crest of Rhododendron Ridge, so as to command the deep ravines between it and Battleship Hill. On one occasion the fumes in an exploded mine tunnel caused several deaths. On another, an Anzac party was cut off in a gallery exploded by a Turkish mine, but dug themselves out and reappeared over the parapet after three days’ burial.231

To the end of November the weather remained fairly fine, except for heavy showers and occasional mists and frosts. The dust was laid, even at Helles and Suvla; flies almost disappeared, and the prevailing sickness was much reduced. But on November 27 and the following four days a natural disaster as deadly as a serious engagement befell the Peninsula. A heavy south-westerly gale brought with it a thunderstorm accompanied with torrents of rain, which poured down upon the Ægean and the Peninsula for nearly twenty-four hours. In half an hour the wind rose to a hurricane, lashing the sea to tempest. At Kephalos one of the ships forming a breakwater was sunk, and all the craft inside the little harbour were driven ashore. At Helles and Suvla the light piers and landing-stages were destroyed, and the shores strewn with wreck. A destroyer was driven ashore in Suvla Bay. At Anzac the trenches were filled with water, and streams roared down the gullies. The fate of Suvla was more terrible. Across a long and deep ravine leading obliquely down from the “whale-back” ridge of Kiretch Tepe Sirt, high parapets had been constructed by Turks and British alike. Against these parapets the water was dammed up, as in a reservoir. They gave way, as when a reservoir’s embankment bursts, and the weight of accumulated water swept down the ravine into the valley, and from the valley into the Salt Lake and the shore, bearing with it stores and equipment, and mule-carts and mules and the drowning bodies of Turks and Britons, united in vain struggles against the overwhelming power of nature. Along the other sections of the lines, the men stood miserably in the trenches, soaked to the skin, and in places up to their waists in water.

Then, of a sudden, the wind swung round to the north and fell upon the wrecked and inundated scene with icy blast. For nearly two days and nights snow descended in whirling blizzards, and two days and nights of bitter frost succeeded the snow. The surface of the pools and trenches froze thick. The men’s greatcoats, being soaked through with the rain, froze stiff upon them. Men staggered down from the lines numbed and bemused with the intensity of cold. They could neither hear nor speak, but stared about them like bewildered bullocks. The sentries and outposts in the advanced trenches could not pull the triggers of their rifles for cold. They saw the Turks standing up on their firing steps and gazing at them over the parapets, and still they did not fire. It was reported at the time that the General, knowing that the condition of the enemy was probably worse than ours, desired a general attack. But movement was hardly possible. Overcome by the common affliction, our men also stood up and gazed back at the Turks. Few can realise the suffering of those four days.

As though to test their power of endurance up to the very last, the full weight of misery fell upon the 29th Division, detained at Suvla since their final battle of August 21. Of that Division’s celebrated battalions, the 2nd Royal Fusiliers (86th Brigade) suffered most, their sentries standing immovable at their posts until they froze to death, and being found afterwards watching from the parapet, rifle in hand. The dead in the IXth Army Corps alone numbered over 200. From the Peninsula about 10,000 sick had to be removed. Many were “frost-bitten”; many lost their limbs; some, their reason. It is probable that the Turks suffered even worse; for prisoners said their men had no blankets, no covering at all except their thin uniforms and frozen greatcoats. But an enemy’s suffering is small consolation for one’s own; nor throughout the campaign was the element of vengeful hatred of the Turk ever one of the impelling motives among our fighting men, whether British, Irish, Anzac, or Hindu.232

This disastrous storm, though none raged again with such fury, may have hastened the approaching end; but the Cabinet’s decision was probably taken immediately after Lord Kitchener’s visit. On November 15, Mr. Winston Churchill, in resigning his office as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster—an office, it is true, which afforded little scope for the activity of his restless interests—defended his conception of the Dardanelles Expedition in the House of Commons, and expressed a judgment which I believe will be the judgment of future time until the campaign fades from memory:

That was the natural and just lamentation over the decease of the fine conception of whose being Mr. Churchill was the author. But now nothing remained for it but decent burial. On November 30, having visited Salonika and Italy, Lord Kitchener returned. On December 8, Sir Charles Monro ordered General Birdwood to proceed with the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac. By him the whole scheme was designed, in co-operation with Rear-Admiral Rosslyn Wemyss, who was in command of the naval side owing to the temporary absence of Vice-Admiral de Robeck through illness.

To bring away an army from open beaches fully exposed to a resolute enemy has always been recognised as one of the most difficult military operations, involving risk of heavy loss if not disaster. On principle it is not to be undertaken except after a defeat of the enemy’s forces. But in this case there could be no question of defeat, and the enemy was nowhere more than 300 yards distant from our front, and at many points no more than 10 or 20 yards. At Anzac and Suvla alone, rather more than 83,000 men had to be embarked, together with nearly 5000 horses and mules, nearly 2000 carts, about 200 guns, and at each place thirty days’ supply at an average of 4 lb. per man, to say nothing of engineering and medical stores, and all the baggage of Staffs and officers.233

The highest estimate of the probable loss was 50 per cent.; the lowest (and this was the estimate I heard most commonly given by Staff officers just before the event) was 15 per cent. At Mudros preparation was made for 6000 to 10,000 wounded, and in case of such losses, many of the wounded must have been left ashore.234

The force of the enemy opposite Suvla and Anzac was roughly calculated at about 60,000, equally divided between the two positions, and consisting of Anatolians, Syrians, and Arabs. But, including reserves, it was thought there were 120,000 in all upon the Peninsula.235

They were engaged upon constructing new gun-positions with cement platforms, especially behind Kavak Tepe. It was reported that a battery of 12-inch howitzers and two or three batteries of 9-inch guns were on their way from Germany, and the violence of the shell-explosions upon our lines proved that superior ammunition had already arrived. For the rest, the Turks laboured continuously at deepening or multiplying their trenches, and up to the final evening we watched their spades throwing the earth over their parapets. To keep them thus occupied in improving their time, the army and navy employed many ingenious devices. Men who had been embarked at night, or under tarpaulins by day, were brought back again fully exposed to view, as in a stage army. The Indian muleteers were ordered to drive their carts continuously to and fro, making as much dust as possible. On the final days all ranks were ordered to maintain the immemorial British custom of showing themselves upon the sky-line and serving their country by walking where they could best be observed. Both at Anzac and Suvla the guns also had during the last few weeks been ordered not to fire a shot during certain intervals, which sometimes lasted three days together. At Anzac on one occasion, the Turks came creeping over towards our parapets, and even entered the galleries to see if we still were there; but they were so terribly received with rifles and bayonets that the question of our intentions appeared to them settled. Prisoners and deserters (who continued to come in up to the last hour) told us that, in consequence of these simple artifices, the Turks were even expecting a renewed attack. They also spread a persistent rumour that the Turks themselves contemplated evacuation. This report was probably due to the deserter’s natural exaggeration of his miseries; but since the tempest and snow the condition of the men in the Turkish trenches had, no doubt, been deplorable.

At Suvla, so soon as the order to evacuate arrived, our men began fortifying the points at each end of the bay, as positions where a last stand could be made. The front line extended for 11,000 yards, running from the shore of the Gulf of Xeros,236 over the lofty “whale-back” of Kiretch Tepe Sirt at Jephson’s Post, down the steep southern slope, across the tree-covered and partly cultivated plain through the farms of Anafarta Ova and Sulajik, in front of Green and Chocolate Hill, and out into the swampy level of the Biyuk Anafarta valley, till it joined up with the Anzac lines. Fortunately, the recent tempest had filled the Salt Lake with water to an average depth of 4 feet; so that in the centre of the Suvla position no further defence was required, and, on the right, only about 1000 yards of marshy and waterlogged plain had to be entrenched or covered by wire entanglement. The remaining positions were defended by three lines, wired and entrenched, barbed-wire gates ready to close being prepared at all openings of paths and roads.

The embarkation was carried out from the north and south points of Suvla Bay. At the extreme end of the north or Suvla Point a small harbour, capable of receiving rafts, “beetles,” and even trawlers, had been constructed, chiefly by the skill of the 5th Anglesey Company R.E. (Captain Glenn), who had blasted away the rock and built an oblong of low walls to serve as wharves. Near the narrow entrance of this small harbour a steamer was also run aground as a stage alongside of which larger transports could lie. Guns, horses, mules, and stores were taken off on rafts and “beetles” in the little harbour. The battalions embarked from the sunken steamer, usually also on “beetles” or trawlers. The 53rd Division went first. Of the old fighting 29th Division, the 86th Brigade followed, getting away on the night of December 14–15. There remained the 11th, 13th, and Mounted Divisions, together with the 88th Brigade of the 29th, and it was arranged that the 11th Division with the 88th Brigade and one brigade of the 13th should leave from the north point, and the other two brigades of the 13th, together with the “mounted” forces and 500 Gurkhas of the Indian Brigade from Anzac, from the south or Nibrunesi Point, where they could embark from the C and B Beaches of the original landing, under cover of Lala Baba and the cliffs. A new pier had also been constructed near the point on the inside of Suvla Bay, fairly sheltered, though exposed to observation and shell-fire from “The Pimple” and that part of Kiretch Tepe Sirt. In fact, on the very last day (December 19), while I was at General Maude’s 13th Division Headquarters overlooking the pier from the cliff, a 5·7-inch shell tore a large gap in the middle of it; but it was rapidly repaired by the Engineers. A similar pier had been constructed on the far or Xeros side of Suvla Point, below the cliff on which General Byng had now fixed the IXth Army Corps Headquarters. This was entirely sheltered and unobserved, but was only to be used for the withdrawal of the very last detachment. The naval part of the embarkation at Suvla Point was under the direction of Captain Unwin, who organised and conducted it with the same enthusiastic, not to say explosive, energy which he had displayed during the landing on V Beach from the River Clyde.

Night after night, and all night long, the anxious labour was resumed. Guns—the “heavies,” the howitzers, and the field-guns—were drawn down to the harbour, and pushed or pulled with ropes upon the rafts. Mules and horses were brought down, but gradually, lest the enemy should notice the emptiness of the horse-lines along the point.237 Stores were brought down, all that might have been needed only for summer or for a long campaign coming first. Then came the men, brigade by brigade, battalion by battalion, mustering at definite points about half a mile from the harbour, and in turn filing down to the transports. There was no confusion, no visible excitement. Silently the men took their places, and moved to quiet orders. Each carried full kit with pick and shovel or periscope.

As each night of the final week passed and the defences became weaker, the anxiety increased, though none was shown or mentioned. Apart from a general attack, danger lay in three points—the wind, the moon, and shelling by night. A south-west gale, or even a strong breeze arising in the last two days, would have stopped embarkation and left us almost defenceless. The moon was waxing, but a thin mist veiled it almost every night, and the half-obscured radiance helped to guide our men down the paths, and did not betray the meaning of the thin black lines which were just visible upon the twilit sea as trawlers, “beetles,” and rafts slid away. The Turks had the beaches exactly registered. At any hour of the night a dozen of their heavy shells would have reduced the little harbour to a bloody mash of animals and men. On the morning of December 16 they threw six 4·7-inch shells of improved bursting quality right into the middle of the embarkation beach, but it was almost empty then, and only one man was hurt. In the afternoon of the 17th they shelled A West Beach heavily for an hour. Such events showed their power for our destruction, but the nights remained undisturbed, except by our own ceaseless toil. An immense blaze of stores, lighted accidentally at Anzac before dawn on December 18, increased the peril of discovery, but the Turks remained indifferent to portents.

The last day came. It was Sunday, December 19. Little by little the forces at Suvla had been reduced to 12,000 men and 16 guns, whereas, to hold a front line the length of ours, 33,000 men would be required by regulation. The day was passed as usual, each man doing his utmost to give a crowded appearance to the scene. At sunset, the guns fired their parting salute and were withdrawn—the last at 9.30. The men were then brought away—rather more than 6000 to Suvla Point, rather less to Nibrunesi. A small party was left to keep up rifle-fire in the front trenches. Larger parties were left to hold the second and third lines. The rest embarked. Shortly before midnight the front line came in, leaving lighted candles which at irregular intervals burnt a string to discharge a rifle, so that a desultory fusillade was maintained for about an hour. The second and third lines followed in turn, only sappers remaining behind to close up the barbed-wire gates, to cut the telephone wires, and to set trip- and contact-mines at points of likely resort. A party of 200 (I think, 9th West Yorks) were to hold the fourth line to the last, and sacrifice themselves if the Turks attacked.

Intermittent outbursts of firing came from the Turks, and we could hear the rumbling explosions as they toiled at blasting new trenches—an interesting example of labour lost. Once an aeroplane whirred overhead, invisible until she dropped one green star, which blazed for a few seconds just below Saturn and showed her to be ours. On the earth a few fires burned where camps were once inhabited, but gradually they faded out. Two lights glimmered from deserted hospital tents along the curving shore; for our doctors had remained to the last in readiness for the deaths and wounds of disaster. But now even they had gone, leaving notes to thank the Turks for their consideration towards the Red Cross. Otherwise, only the sea and the moon showed light, and over the white surface of the water those thin black lines kept moving away.

From the little harbour arose the varied noise of screaming mules, rattling anchor chains, shouting megaphones, engines throbbing and steamers hooting low. Still the Turks gave no sign of hearing, though they lay almost visible in the moonlight across that familiar scene. At last the final lines of defenders began silently to steal down the paths of Karakol Dagh, leaving four A.S.C. officers under Col. Hodsoll to fire vast piles of abandoned stores—biscuits, bully-beef, and bacon. Officers of the beach party, which had accomplished such excellent and sleepless work, collected. At 4.30 a.m. of the 20th the defenders of the fourth line—about 200 in all—embarked from the concealed pier on the Gulf of Xeros side of the cliffs. And at the same time, General Byng, motioning Brigadier-General Reed, his Chief of Staff, to pass in front of him, left Suvla Point, being the last to leave.

From Nibrunesi Point, under the direction of General Maude, the evacuation was accomplished in the same manner and with the same success. The whole movement involved the loss of only two men, and those by accident. Hospital tents remained standing, and some provisions were burnt. Not a man or gun or cart or horse was left behind.

Those of us who had reached the Cornwallis in Captain Unwin’s pinnace at four in the morning, were roused at six by bugles sounding to action quarters. Dawn was just breaking, as on the day when we landed upon that shore four and a half months earlier. But it was still dark except for the glare of flames consuming the piles of stores on Suvla Point and Lala Baba, and the lesser flames of a wrecked hospital lighter ashore by the “cut” in the sandy spit. By seven it was almost daylight, and the Turks began pouring shells into the fires to deter us from putting them out. With the increasing light, they turned all their guns on to the empty beaches, trenches, and especially the positions on Hill 10, where a battery had stood. Meantime our picket-boats had searched the shores, but found no stragglers, not even an army medical, left behind. The Turkish guns were then directed against the battleships, but they fired wildly and without effect. The Cornwallis answered, her big guns throwing shells upon the slope of Kiretch Tepe Sirt, her lesser armament destroying the breakwaters, piers, and little harbour, so industriously constructed. At nine o’clock she turned and left the long-familiar scene, passing westward towards the mountains of Imbros over a tranquil and sunlit sea. The evacuation had been hurried forward by a day, and fortunate indeed was that anticipation. By nine o’clock next morning a south-west gale was raging, rain fell in deluge, and the sea roared upon the coast. What if the movement had been delayed for those few hours more?

At Anzac the withdrawal was carried out with equal daring and skill. The problem was slightly different, for the position extended in an irregular fan-shape, the centre being very short (only about 500 yards in direct line from the Nek to the Cove) but stretching northward on the left for rather over 3 miles to Hill 60 and the Biyuk Anafarta plain; and southward on the right for about 1½ miles to Chatham Post. The flanks had therefore to be brought in first, and no interior defences were made except a strong redoubt as a kind of “keep” within the Cove itself. It is probable that the withdrawal of the left flank, where the ground is comparatively open, could not have escaped observation but for the supposed presence of a large force at Suvla, and, in that sense, Suvla may be said to have been the salvation of Anzac. The embarkation was carried out partly from the new pier on Ocean Beach north of Ari Burnu, partly from the repaired piers in the Cove.

Of the 40,000 at Anzac, about 20,000 had been gradually taken off to Mudros by December 18. That night over 10,000 more were sent away. All but nine worn-out guns had gone, two being left close up to the firing line, where they had been stationed from the first. Aeroplanes kept watch all day, five being at times up together—a large number for Gallipoli—and no hostile plane was allowed to approach. On the morning of Sunday, 19th, the few guns kept up a brave show of bombardment, the Turks answering with their increased number of guns, no less than seventeen of which were now posted in the Olive Grove, commanding the main beach of embarkation. As at Suvla, the few remaining men (about 10,000 in all) were directed to show themselves freely, and many spent the morning in tending for the last time the graves of the 8000 comrades who there lay buried.

The 6000 stationed in the afternoon to guard the outer lines were divided into three groups—A, B, and C—of 2000 each, and there arose a violent competition to belong to the C group, known as “Die-hards,” because they were to be the last to leave. Group A came from the northern positions and included parties of the 1st and 3rd Light Horse Brigades, the 4th Australian Brigade, and the New Zealand Mounted Rifles with the Maoris (from Hill 60). They marched in absolute silence, magazines empty, no smoking allowed, footsteps deadened by sacking spread over the hard patches of ground and over the planks. By ten o’clock they had all embarked from Ocean Beach. At midnight Group B gathered in the Cove. Among them were New Zealand Infantry from the heights of Sari Bair, 20th Infantry from the Nek, 17th Infantry from Quinn’s, 23rd and 24th from Lone Pine, 6th Light Horse from Chatham’s Post far on the right. Thus the veteran 1st Australian Division of the Landing was now mingled with the 2nd Division, sent to uphold them and give them some opportunity for relief. Descending the diverse gullies from the fan-like extremities, each position bearing so fine a record during the eight months of struggle and endurance, they concentrated punctually and without confusion. The Navy held the transports ready, and they went.

Only 2000 men now remained to guard the long and devious lines from Chatham’s Post to the Apex and the Farm. About 1.30 a.m. of Monday the 20th, a bomb thrown from the “Apex” marked the abandonment of that hard-won and hard-held position. Thence New Zealanders came down: from Courtney’s and Pope’s, 18th and 19th Infantry; from Ouinn’s, the 17th. By 3 a.m. only 800 “Die-hards” were left in groups at points where the Turkish lines came within a few yards’ distance. By 3.30, Lone Pine, Quinn’s, and Pope’s were finally abandoned, and Anzacs rushed down White’s Valley and Shrapnel Gully for the last time. As they reached the Cove, a violent explosion, which seemed to shake even the ships at Suvla, thundered from the heights. Three and a half tons of amenol, laid by the 5th Company Australian Engineers, had blown a great chasm across the Nek, and that ready entrance to the deserted lines was blocked as by a moat and rampart. Rifles continued to fire from the old positions—fired by sand running from buckets. The Turks burst into one of their panic rages of fire against the empty trenches, from which they now expected a general assault. The naval guns pounded the hills. The last of the transports departed, and Anzac shore was nothing but a lasting name.

A few stragglers were taken off by picket-boats in the early morning. A few guns—four 18-pounders, two 5-inch howitzers, one 4·7 naval gun (said to have been in Ladysmith, and, in that case, called the “Lady Anne” or the “Bloody Mary”), one anti-aircraft, and two 3-pounder Hotchkiss guns had to be left, but were disabled. Some carts without wheels, and fifty-six mules were also left, and some stores burnt. The execution of the whole movement conferred just honour upon Major-General Sir Alexander Godley and Brigadier-General Cyril B. B. White, his Chief of Staff, not to mention other names well worthy of mention, and now regretfully to be parted with.238

Even after the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac, many hoped that Helles at least would be retained as a perpetual threat to the heart of the Turkish Empire. But being by this time deeply entangled at Salonika, where the French and English forces had lately been driven back from the edges of Serbia across the Greek frontier, the Cabinet resolved to wipe out the Dardanelles Expedition, as a gambler “cuts his losses,” and leave no trace or profit of all the army’s incomparable deeds. Certainly, it would have been difficult to remain at Helles now that heavy guns were being brought down from Suvla and Anzac; superior German shells had arrived, and German guns were on the way. Throughout the end of December the bombardment was at times very violent, reaching extreme intensity about 1 p.m. on December 24, when the right and centre of our line, from the front trenches to the sea, suffered the severest shelling experienced at Helles.239 With the help of the Navy, and by the construction of deeper trenches and solid shelter, it might have been possible to hold the position as a kind of Gibraltar guarding the Straits. But Imbros and Tenedos, for a naval Power, served that purpose with less risk, and since the glorious hope of advancing upon Constantinople was definitely abandoned, it was argued best to quit Helles and the whole Peninsula.

On Christmas Eve, General Birdwood was directed to prepare a scheme; four days later to complete the evacuation as quickly as possible.240 The problem was to bring away unnoticed rather more than 35,000 men, about 4000 animals, about 110 guns, and over 1000 tons of stores. Most of the remaining French Division had been gradually withdrawn during December, and the 4000 left at the end of the year were embarked on French warships during the night of January 1–2. By consent of General Brulard, however, the French guns were left under command of General Davies with the VIIIth Corps. The French lines were taken over by the Royal Naval Division—that military maid-of-all-work. Some have said that the soldier-sailors were dressed in French grey to deceive such of the enemy as could not hear or understand their language; but this was untrue.

The 42nd (East Lancashire) Division, which had throughout done such steady and persistent work under Major-General Douglas, was withdrawn for a much-needed rest,241 and the 13th (Major-General Stanley Maude), having been at Imbros since the Suvla evacuation, was transferred to Helles. The redoubtable 29th Division was also sent back to the scene of its early triumphs. The troops to go at the last belonged, therefore, to the 13th, 29th, 52nd, and Royal Naval Divisions.

During the days of preparation, little happened to break the appearance of routine. Almost the last assault from our side had been made on December 19, when, simply to distract attention from the evacuation in the north, parts of the 42nd and 52nd Divisions attacked beside the Krithia Nullah, and the 5th Highland Light Infantry (157th Brigade) especially distinguished themselves. Sir Charles Monro also mentions a successful attack by the 52nd Division on December 29. But, for the most part, on our side we beguiled the Turk by periods of complete silence, especially between 8 p.m. and 2 a.m., so as to habituate him to inattentive repose. For the last days, one British 6-inch gun and six old-fashioned French “heavies” alone were retained, to give a semblance of active hostility. On January 7, however, the very day before our departure, the enemy, possessed by one of his unaccountable moods, directed a terrible bombardment against the 13th Division on our left from Achi Baba, and a slighter fire against the R.N.D. on our right from Asia. It lasted all afternoon, and at 3.30 the Turks attempted an attack near Fusilier Bluff, between Gully Ravine and the sea. Officers were seen urging the men forward as in earlier days; but the men had no longer the spirit of earlier days, and since they were disinclined to move, the attack faded away. Fortunately, our want of artillery was compensated by a naval squadron off the west coast. None the less, we lost a hundred and six wounded and fifty-eight killed—the last to lay their bones upon the earth of that dedicated Peninsula. The 7th North Staffords were chiefly engaged.

Next morning (January 8) rose fair, with a light southerly breeze. The Turks kept unusually quiet, and it was resolved to accomplish the evacuation as arranged. Major-General Lawrence (C.O. 52nd Division) had been put in charge of the embarkation on the military side. Positions on all the beaches were fortified as redoubts for a small garrison to hold to the last. On Gully Beach, Major-General Maude selected the position and prepared the evacuation of his 13th Division. Specially selected officers superintended the W and V Beaches. The naval arrangements were carried out by Captain C. M. Staveley, R.N., assisted by naval officers at each point of embarkation. In addition to the three strongly wired lines of defence across the Peninsula, a fourth had been constructed from Gully Beach to De Tott’s Battery. Troops on the left naturally withdrew from Gully Beach or W (four piers); on the right from V Beach (three piers and the River Clyde).