How the Five Beaches—Y, X, W, V, and S—were stormed and the British and French landed on the Gallipoli Peninsula, Sunday, April 25, 1915.
(By permission of The Sphere.)
The following units landed on the various beaches:—Beach Y: 1st King's Own Scottish Borderers and The Plymouth (Marine) Battalion, Royal Naval Division. Beach X: 1st Royal Fusiliers, together with a beach working party of the Anson Battalion, Royal Naval Division. Beach W: 1st Battalion, (Lancashire Fusiliers). Beach V: Dublin Fusiliers, Munster Fusiliers, half a battalion of the Hampshire Regiment, the West Riding Field Company, and other details. Beach S: 2nd South Wales Borderers (less one company). At Gaba Tepe: 3rd Australian Brigade, followed promptly by the 1st and 2nd Brigades and two batteries of Indian Mountain Artillery; the remainder of the New Zealand and Australian Division landed later in the day.
Now the hazy dawn begins to break, and the men in the boats see before them the loom of the steep cliffs underneath which they are soon to tread. Beneath those cliffs there is a very narrow strip of sand, about a thousand yards long, closed in on the north and south by small promontories. Near the northern end of the beach a small but steep gully runs up into the hills at right angles to the shore. At the southern end there is a deep ravine with very steep, scrub-clad sides. Between the ravine and the gully a lofty spur comes down to the shore. Such is the landing-place. The Commander-in-Chief has chosen it because he thinks the enemy would never suppose that he would dream of making a landing in such an unfavourable position. Henceforth it will be known all the world over as Anzac[45] Cove.
The boats and destroyers steal in towards the land. They are now close to the shore, and the troops perceive that they must fight for a footing. Turkish soldiers are seen running along the beach ready to give the boats a warm reception. Not a word is spoken: our men remain perfectly still and quiet, awaiting the enemy's fire. A few moments more, and bullets rain down on them. Many a man has breathed his last before the boats run aground.
The keels have not touched the sand when the Australians of the 3rd Brigade spring out of their boats. A blaze of fire sweeps against them from the Turkish trenches on the beach, but they heed it not. With fixed bayonets they dash forward, as though they mean to conquer the whole peninsula by one mighty rush. On they go, and the Turks flee before them. The beach is carried with cold steel, and in open order they dive into the scrub and scramble up the hundred feet of cliff that rises before them. The famous exploit at Wolfe's Cove, when the Heights of Abraham were scaled, is altogether outdone.[46]
Now they are on the top of the cliff, and come under the main Turkish fire. The ground, however, gives them good cover, and they speedily dig themselves in. By seven in the morning they are holding the cliff top. Meanwhile the 1st and 2nd Brigades have come ashore, and two batteries of Indian Mountain Artillery have been landed. The enemy is now shelling the transports, and they are obliged to stand out to sea. Further artillery cannot, therefore, be put ashore just yet. By noon more than 10,000 men are on the beach, or are climbing the gully and the ravine. The thousand yards of shore is covered with busy working-parties. Stores are being landed, the Royal Engineers are making roads, and wireless stations are being erected; and all the time Turkish shells are falling fast and thick. Our warships are at work, but the morning sun is in the eyes of the gunners, and they fire at a disadvantage.
The Australians on the cliff top have not been content to remain idle in their hastily-dug trenches. They rashly push on across three ridges, and actually come within sight of the Narrows; but now the enemy is strongly reinforced, and they are driven back with heavy loss. Stretcher-bearers are stumbling down the steep paths and across the beach carrying their freight of wounded to the hospital ships on the bullet-splashed sea. There is much confusion as the advancing troops meet those who are retiring; but before noon a semicircular position on the cliffs is firmly held. Parties of the 9th and 10th Battalions charge and put out of action three of the enemy's Krupp guns.
The Turks now begin their counter-attacks, which continue far into the night. Again and again our men make bayonet charges, and the line holds fast. They have suffered terribly, but they have made good their footing, and are firmly placed at Gaba Tepe, on Anzac territory.
Now we must hurry southwards and see how matters are faring at Beach Y. Three cruisers—Dublin, Amethyst, and Sapphire—have covered the landing of the 1st Battalion King's Own Scottish Borderers and the Plymouth (Marine) Battalion. The men have leaped ashore on a narrow strip of sand at the foot of a crumbling, scrub-covered cliff 200 feet high. They climb to the top of the cliffs by means of a number of small gullies, and there establish themselves, almost without loss. Food, water, and ammunition are hauled up. Now the Turks begin to attack them, and are fiercely resisted. Later in the day the enemy, largely reinforced, advances from the direction of Krithia, and our men have to dig in. Against them the Turks launch attack after attack, supported by heavy guns. Owing to the sharp fall of the ground behind the cliffs, our warships can render but little assistance. Through the afternoon and night the attacks continue, and our men make several desperate bayonet charges. But it is clear, even now, that they cannot maintain themselves in this position. By seven o'clock on the morning of the 26th the King's Own Scottish Borderers have lost half their number, including their gallant colonel.
The order for withdrawal is given. A small rearguard of the King's Own Scottish Borderers with desperate valour holds off the enemy, while the rest, with their wounded, stores, and ammunition, re-embark, and are safely brought round to the southern end of the peninsula. The landing at Y has failed, and our losses have been very heavy; but the plucky stand of the two battalions has prevented large numbers of the enemy from going to the assistance of their comrades at other points, where, as you will soon learn, a very touch-and-go struggle is in progress.
A short journey southward brings us to Beach X, where the 1st Royal Fusiliers have been landed. The Swiftsure has plastered the high ground with shells, and the Implacable, which has anchored close inshore, is bringing every gun to bear on the Turkish position. Without losing a single man, the Fusiliers push up a low cliff and entrench themselves. By evening they are in touch with their comrades at Beach W. A Turkish battery which gets the range of our men is knocked out by a fine shot from the Implacable. At Beach X everything is going well.
We now hurry away to Beach W, between Cape Tekke and Cape Helles. Here a doubtful battle is raging. The beach consists of deep, powdery sand, and is 350 yards long, with steep ground on the flank and sand dunes in the centre. The Turks have turned this beach into a perfect death-trap. Close to the water's edge there is a broad wire entanglement running the whole length of the shore, and in front of it, in the shallow sea, there is another similar barricade. There are lines of trenches on the high ground; machine guns are tucked away into holes in the cliff; snipers lurk in the scrub, and there is not an inch of the shore which cannot be swept by deadly fire. On a hill overlooking the beach there are two redoubts, and elsewhere in the line of possible advance there are other formidable obstacles. Land mines and sea mines have been laid, and the Turks may well boast that no invader will ever remain alive on this terrible beach.
Lancashire men are now about to perform one of the finest feats of arms ever achieved by British soldiers or by any other soldiers. They are about to storm this death-trap from open boats! Hereafter, as a tribute to their splendid valour, Beach W will be known as Lancashire Landing.
At six in the morning of the 25th eight picket boats, in line abreast, each boat towing four ship's cutters packed with men of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers, approach the shore. As soon as shallow water is reached the tows are cast off, and oars are plied. The first boat touches the shore, and out spring the Fusiliers, to be met by a hurricane of lead from the Turkish trenches. Many a man receives his death-wound while waist-deep in the water, but the unfaltering Fusiliers rush ashore, and though fired at from the right, the left, and the centre, begin hacking their way through the wire. A long line of men is at once mown down as by a scythe; but the remainder, now covered by the guns of the warships, and helped by the flanking fire of a party which has secured a foothold on a small ledge of rock under the cliff, break through the entanglements, and, rapidly re-forming, hurl themselves on the Turkish trenches. Several land mines are exploded, but nothing can stem the torrent of the British advance. By ten o'clock three lines of the enemy's trenches are in our hands.
On the right some of the Fusiliers have come under the fire of a redoubt, and they can make but little headway in this direction. The edge of the wire entanglements is reached, but they can go no further. They are now lying under the scanty cover of a sand-bank, cleaning their rifles, which have been wetted by sea-water and choked with sand.
The guns of the warships boom out, and a rain of shells falls near the redoubt. About 2 p.m. the Worcester Regiment dashes forward. Men hack their way through the entanglements, and, in spite of heavy losses, carry the redoubt by storm. Now an attempt is made to join hands with the troops which are in dire peril on Beach V; but the defences are too strong to be broken through. Men are seen under an awful fire calmly snipping the wire as though they were pruning a vineyard. But the troops are worn out by their long labours under a hot sun, and the attack is perforce suspended. When night falls the Turks make assault after assault on the wearied invaders. So hard pressed are they that even the working parties on the beach have to be flung into the trenches in order that the line may be held. Happily the attacks of the enemy are beaten off, and no ground is lost. So the night passes, and the dawn ushers in another day of struggle and anxiety.
Now we hurry off to Beach V, where tragic events are taking place. Beach V resembles an old Greek theatre. There is a stretch of sand as at Beach W, and running along it is a low sandy ridge, four feet high, which affords some shelter. Beyond rise grassy terraces to a height of 100 feet. The rising ground is flanked on the one side by an old castle, and on the other side by a modern fort. On the heights overlooking the shore the Turks have massed artillery, machine guns, and riflemen. On the very margin of the beach there is an exceedingly strong barbed-wire fence, and two-thirds of the way up there is an even stronger obstacle. From all sides the defenders can pour down a deadly fire on the landing parties. So strongly defended is this beach that special arrangements have been made to cope with it. Large doors have been cut in the steel plates of a collier, the River Clyde, and wide gangplank have been slung from her side. These gangways slope gradually down from the doors to her bows, so that men can pass along on both sides in single file, and jump on to the lighters which she will tow in with her. Her bridge has been turned into a little fortress, and behind steel plates and sand-bags in her bows there are twelve machine guns to cover the landing. Two thousand men of the Hampshires and Munster Fusiliers have been stowed on board, and now she steams bow on to the shore close to a reef of rock. The lighters are placed in position so as to form a bridge between the gangway and the rock.
