The Nullahs
Farther away to the north the British front was intersected by three streams, or, except during and immediately after rain, three more or less dry beds of streams, running north-east to south-west. The largest of these was Gully Ravine (Saghir Dere) close to and parallel with the western coast, emptying into Gully Beach about two miles north of Lancashire Landing. The Krithia Nullah (Kirte Dere) began near Krithia Village, and intersected the centre of the British area for a distance of three miles, then, a mile north of “V” Beach, turned to the south-east and emptied into Morto Bay. The third, Achi Baba Nullah (Maltepe Dere) ran parallel to, and from 500 to 1000 yards to the east of the Krithia Nullah, and it also debouched into Morto Bay. No nullah emptied into “W” or “V” Beach, and none intersected the high ground adjacent to those beaches. As the one road in the occupied territory, the Krithia Road, was registered, and in full view of the Turks, these gullies formed the only concealed approaches from the bivouacs and rest camps to the front line. The congestion of these “main streets” made traffic slow and laborious. Normally the approach would be along the bed of a tortuous stream, showing here and there a trickle of water, and at one spot in the Krithia Nullah even a small bathing-pool; but the sight of driftwood and debris deposited six feet and more above the bed-level gave warning to the observant. Disastrous experience soon showed that a few hours’ heavy rain could convert these nullahs into raging and devastating torrents; and when the spate subsided channels of deep mud would be left, with here and there a quagmire into which mules and horses sank.
That one may have too much of a good thing while suffering from a lack of it may be a paradox, but there were times when it was true enough in Gallipoli. Water there was below the surface, to hinder the construction of deep trenches, in which men might stand or sit or walk without offering their heads and bodies as targets to the sniper; there was at times water in exuberant excess to wash away stores, equipment, and even trenches and dug-outs; but clean water was more precious than wine. There were one or two derelict farms which had wells, but the demand was so great that the supply soon gave out. Unfortunately no steps had been taken to protect wells from pollution when the area was first occupied, but afterwards a guard was placed over them, and the water chlorinated before issue, through fear of contamination. A small supply for the brewing of tea was obtained by digging a hole in the trench, below the parados, and placing therein an old biscuit tin with perforated bottom. In this way a little water could be collected—and every pint was treasure. As there were many of our own and the enemy dead lying out in the open, and also latrines in the immediate neighbourhood, it is a great tribute to the value of chlorination and typhoid inoculation that men drank this water with impunity. The normal trickle through the Krithia Nullah provided water for washing but not for drinking, as the stream flowed through the Turkish lines into ours, and was very dirty. A few springs of good water were found in the banks of the nullah, and one of these never failed to supply about 100 gallons an hour. Later, new wells were dug, a gang of well-sinkers, chosen from men of the mining districts, doing useful work. Some of the best of these wells were sunk on the side of a precipitous cliff at Shrapnel Point, near Gurkha Bluff, within a stone’s throw of, but fifty feet above, the sea.
Before the Division landed there had been little attempt at sanitation; there were not nearly enough men for fighting purposes, and no one had time to worry about such things until too late. The flies had then arrived.
The southern point of the peninsula had been very sparsely inhabited. There were two villages, Sedd-el-Bahr, between “V” Beach and Morto Bay, and Krithia, below the slopes of Achi Baba. Elsewhere a few isolated buildings remained, and arches of an ancient aqueduct which had formerly brought water to Sedd-el-Bahr, still stood. But the inhabitants of the nullahs had not fled. Who that heard them will ever forget the frogs of the nullahs at night? A vivid memory of this will remain when things of more importance are forgotten. The average Lancashire man had read that frogs croak, and had accepted the statement tolerantly, as we acquiesce when told that, in spite of appearances, Sirius is really larger than the moon, or that the earth goes round the sun. Now they heard them, and considered “croak” too feeble and inexpressive a word. Some had perhaps read Aristophanes, and had assumed that the frogs of sunnier climes might voice their joys and sorrows less decorously than those which reside in suburban ponds near Manchester. At first the origin of the noise[3] gave rise to much conjecture, a popular notion being that the Gurkhas were responsible. Anything out of the common might be attributed to them. Had it not been printed in the newspapers that the Gurkhas observed a strange rite in respect of the shedding of blood whenever they drew their kukris, to show to the curious stranger or to put a still keener edge on the blade? And did they not throw these heavy, curved knives at the enemy? Accepting such statements as facts it was quite simple to believe that you yourself had seen them do these strange things. So the noise was made by the Gurkhas, and doubtless some unfortunate Turks were having a most unpleasant time.
The Fauna of Gallipoli
Other interesting and unusual fauna were the tortoises, lizards, tarantulas, and scorpions. The tortoises were decidedly popular, and the lizards entertaining, but no one loved the others. At a later date some ammunition was wasted on the flocks of migrating cranes and storks that flew over in wedge-shaped phalanx, until shooting at them was forbidden. The number of birds which lived and nested on the peninsula, undeterred by, and apparently indifferent to, the noise, carnage and destruction and the presence of armies where men had hitherto been infrequent visitors, was remarkable. Linnets, goldfinches, turtle-doves, magpies, jackdaws, and other familiar birds were common. During the summer many rollers were seen, and were called “parrots” from the brilliance of their plumage. Black-headed buntings, having yellow plumage, were mistaken for canaries. Birds of prey abounded, from the griffon vulture seen in May on the cliffs of Helles to the abundant kestrel. Levantine sheerwaters, known to the Turks as “the souls of the damned”—a name which gained in significance as the months passed—flew in flocks round the cape. The winter brought homely English birds, robins and dunnocks, starlings and chaffinches, to remind men of home.
Another noise which for a time puzzled the lads from Lancashire was a weird, penetrating cry heard in the morning and evening. There were various conjectures as to its origin, but finally the more enlightened decided that it was the muezin calling the Faithful to prayer.
Having given some idea of the conditions in Gallipoli and the nature of the country, we return to the narrative of events.
On May 11 the East Lancashire Division was ordered to take over the whole of the British front line, except that portion held by the Indian Brigade, which came under the command of General Douglas for a few days. The line was taken over in the course of the night and of the morning of the 12th. It was a pitch dark night with heavy rain, and few of those who took part will forget this first experience.