Meanwhile the columns on the left had occupied the ridge named Bauchop's Hill, and had climbed and seized Big Table Top, a mushroom-shaped mountain with such steep sides that it was believed no infantry could scale them. "But just as faith moves mountains, so valour can carry them." The heights were scaled, and the plateau was carried by midnight. The attacks were made with bayonet and bomb only; hardly a rifle shot was fired. Meanwhile the ridge which you see just south of Azmak Dere had also been captured, and the whole left rear of the Anzac position had been safeguarded. The grand attack on Koja Chemen could now proceed.
I must break off my story for a moment to tell you that, at dawn on the 7th, the 3rd Australian Light Horse and the 1st Light Horse Brigade pushed forward against the Turkish trenches in their front. These magnificent troopers, men of great physical strength and of the highest courage, advanced only to be mown down. Line after line of them left their parapets, but were met by a storm of fire which no mortal could face and live. For a few moments the flag of the Light Horse fluttered from a corner of the Turkish position. Soon, however, it disappeared, and of the 750 men who attacked that morning only about 100 returned. The sacrifice, however, was not in vain. The Turks in this part of the line were penned to their trenches while the great attack which I am now about to describe went forward.
If you look at the map on page [275], you will see that, in order to get from Big Table Top to Koja Chemen, our troops had to cross Rhododendron Ridge. All night the left column struggled up the two "deres" which you see to the east of Bauchop's Hill, and by a quarter to six in the morning it was on the lower slopes of Rhododendron Ridge. It then moved up the hill, and gained touch by means of the 10th Gurkhas with a column on the right, which had worked up the ravines between Rhododendron Ridge and Chunuk Bair in the face of very heavy fire and by means of frequent bayonet charges. Before nightfall our men were entrenched on the top of Rhododendron Ridge, "a quarter of a mile short of Chunuk Bair—that is, of victory!"
Now for the last push. The attack on Koja Chemen was timed to begin at 4.15 on the morning of the 8th. The right column was to climb up the Chunuk Bair ridge, while the left was to make for the ridge directly south-east of Koja Chemen. "At the first faint glimmer of dawn observers saw figures moving against the sky-line of Chunuk Bair. Were they our own men, or were they the Turks? Telescopes were anxiously adjusted; the light grew stronger; men were seen climbing up from our side of the ridge; they were our own fellows—the topmost summit was ours!" Yes, it was true—New Zealanders and Maoris had fixed themselves firmly on the main knoll of Chunuk Bair, and victory was in sight. The position, however, had not been won without great losses. The 7th Gloucesters, for example, lost every single officer; yet they fought on from midday to sunset, commanded only by corporals and privates.
Next morning, the 9th, the attack was renewed by three columns. The whole of Chunuk Bair was to be gained, and while No. 1 column held the ground, Nos. 2 and 3 columns were to carry Hill Q. It was a day of pitiless heat, and the men suffered torments of thirst. The 6th Gurkhas of the second column scaled the summit of the ridge between Chunuk Bair and Hill Q, and for half an hour looked down upon the gleaming waters of the straits. Not only did they and some of the 6th South Lancashires reach the crest, but they began to attack down the far side of it, firing as they went at the fast-retreating enemy. But at this supreme moment, when the last obstacle had been passed and the Promised Land was in sight, the fortune of war deserted us. No. 3 column should by this time have been sweeping out towards Hill Q along the whole ridge of the mountain, but it was nowhere to be seen. It had lost its way in the darkness. There was no support for the men on the summit, who were now suddenly assailed by a salvo of heavy shells. The Gurkhas and South Lancashires were forced back from the crest and on to the lower slopes from which they had started. When at last No. 3 column appeared, the Turks had come up in overwhelming numbers, and all hope of regaining the summit had vanished.
That evening our line ran along Rhododendron Ridge up to the crest of Chunuk Bair, where some 800 New Zealanders and Maoris were holding about two hundred yards of shallow trenches unprotected by wire. During the night of the 9th-10th these troops were relieved, after they had been fighting without pause for three days and three nights. Two battalions of the New Army took the place of these devoted men, who were now half dead with fatigue. Early on the morning of the 10th the Turks made a furious attack upon them. They came on again and again, calling upon the name of God, determined to drive our men into the sea. Desperate fighting followed. The men of the New Army were simply overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers, and were driven from the crest. At the foot of the hill they were rallied, and plunged into a deadly fray in which "generals fought in the ranks, and men caught each other by the throat. . . . Our men stood to it, and maintained, by many a deed of daring, the old traditions of their race. There was no flinching. They died in the ranks where they stood."
But where were the men from Suvla? Where were they at this supreme crisis, when they were so desperately needed? The New Zealanders on the crest of Chunuk Bair had seen them landing, but had lost sight of them. What had happened? Something must have gone seriously wrong.
The landing at Suvla Bay was made on the night of 6th August, under very favourable conditions. The moon did not rise until 2 a.m., and by this time our men were ashore. Except for a little rifle fire, they were quite unopposed. As you know, the Turks had their hands full elsewhere, and had no inkling of what was afoot. The men who landed at the points B and C carried Lala Baba with the bayonet during the night, and also an outpost to the north of the Salt Lake. By the time the moon rose two divisions were ashore, and were holding a line east of the lake running from Karakol Dagh to near Chocolate Hill. So far everything had gone well; but then came a fatal delay. It was essential that we should push on if we were to surprise the Turks, but no attempt was made to proceed. The men, most of whom had never been in action before, were very weary, and were tormented by thirst. The transports, containing water, stores, mules, and carts, were still sixty miles away, and no doubt the general in command of the expedition hesitated to send men forward in an arid land without a proper water supply. Further, he had but little artillery. Late that night the right carried Chocolate Hill. The New Zealanders, as you know, were now struggling to maintain their foothold on Chunuk Bair, and every moment was priceless. Unhappily, the general at Suvla Bay does not seem to have realized that the whole success of the movement depended on pushing his men forward at all costs. By this time Sir Ian Hamilton had arrived. He tried to persuade the general to advance, but in vain. By the morning of Monday, 9th August, our chance of success had almost vanished. Ever-growing numbers of the enemy had come up, and no surprise was now possible.
On the morning of the 9th a gallant endeavour was made to carry the main Anafarta ridge; but though the crest was won, the effort was too late. The Turks had now arrived in full force. About midday they fired the scrub on the hills, and the flames which were swept across our front by the wind drove us back. Nothing more of importance was done that day, and next morning our chance of succeeding had gone for ever.