[CHAPTER VII]
THE CHARGE AT KRITHIA
The men of Anzac were now called upon to take their part in a great concerted attack, made by all the forces commanded by Sir Ian Hamilton on Gallipoli Peninsula. Those familiar with the operations in Gallipoli will remember that, simultaneously with the landing of the Australasians at Gaba Tepe, no less than five landings had been effected by the British and French expeditionary forces further south, on points situated on the extreme southern point of the peninsula.
A great mountain rampart lay between these forces and the Anzacs, culminating in the summit of Achi Baba, the hardest nut to crack in the whole peninsula. Loftily situated on the slopes of Achi Baba is the village of Krithia, protected by a maze of Turkish trenches, and a wilderness of barbed wire entanglements. Upon this village an attack was directed from as many points as practicable, and in this attack a large proportion of the Australasian troops participated.
The attack was opened by such a fusillade of shellfire from the warships of the allied fleet as has seldom been seen or heard. From all quarters they rained shell and shrapnel on the slopes of Krithia, searching the ranges one by one in the attempt to dislodge the defenders from their trenches and hiding-places along the scrubby hillsides and precipitous ravines. The enemies' losses from that shellfire were enormous, but the Turks are admirable defensive fighters, and they clung to their trenches, making the most of the shelters that had been constructed in anticipation of such an attack.
The Anzacs had been posted as reserves in this great attack on Krithia, the Australians occupying positions on the left of the Krithia road, in support of a division of the Naval Brigade. On the other side of the road, and in support of the British 88th Brigade, were the New Zealanders. The fighting had begun on May 6, and between then and May 8 some ground had been gained; but the Turks were so strongly entrenched, and counter-attacked so vigorously, that on the morning of the 8th it appeared as though there were some danger of the advantage being again lost.
It was on the evening of May 8 that the long-expected signal to advance was received by the Australasian soldiers. Now they were to prove themselves in the eyes of the world, for they were fighting side by side with men drawn from four continents. Away to their extreme right the French, with their brave Senegalese helping them, had performed prodigies of valour during the preceding days. They were still holding the mile of ground they had gained, hanging on like grim death, and even pushing forward where opportunity permitted.
Nearer to the Australasian posts were Indian troops; Gurkhas, Sikhs and Punjabis; while with them were Britons of all kinds, sailormen and soldiers, regulars, Indian-service men, and a sprinkling of the new Army raised by Lord Kitchener. On the warships in the Gulf of Saros and the Dardanelles, eyes experienced in all the battlefields of modern days were watching them critically. The cannonade from the warships redoubled; the din was appalling, so that the very earth shook with it. It was at this moment that the Australasians were ordered to step into the limelight.
A quarter of a mile in front of the New Zealanders the gallant 88th held a trench. The Maorilanders had to go through that, and forward as far up the slope as a series of rushes with the bayonet would carry them. Before the Australians were the sailormen, situated similarly to the 88th. Past their trench the Australians had to charge, and up the bullet-swept slope towards Krithia. They waited for the signal to advance; it was given by the sudden cessation of the deafening din that was proceeding from the great 15-inch guns of the warships.