GULLY RAVINE. HEADQUARTERS OF SIGNAL CO. AND 2ND FIELD CO. R.E.
New Ground
In the new area, which had previously been held by the 29th Division, now at Suvla, there were many changes, on the whole for the better. The men were not sorry to see the last of Krithia and Achi Baba Nullahs, of the Vineyard and other scenes of carnage. Yet the names conjure up other memories, not wholly painful—of heroic attempt and gallant performance, of courage, self-sacrifice, and devotion to duty unsurpassed in any theatre of war, of cheerfulness in adversity, of enduring friendships, of doggedness and determination, of great pride in the comrades who had fallen, whose graves, marked by biscuit-box crosses, lay thick in the Krithia Nullah beyond Clapham Junction. The Eski, Australian and Redoubt Lines, Wigan, Stretford, and Oldham Roads, Burlington Street, Greenheys Lane, Ardwick Green, Clapham Junction, Cooney’s corner (where it was wise to make good speed), Romani’s Well, which could always be relied upon for a supply of deliciously cool water, the olive-grove beside it, most peaceful and popular of bivouacs—these were seen for the last time, but the memories that cluster about them will never be wiped out. The mention of the names brings back the scene, the sounds, the smells—the gullies thronged with men and animals, the R.A.M.C. carrying the wounded down to the dressing stations, the transport toiling up with rations, the linesmen of the Signal Company coolly and efficiently laying lines and repairing wires under shell and machine-gun fire, the despatch riders driving furiously over ground that no motor-cycle was ever meant to negotiate, those good men of the Zion Mule Corps, the Hindus driving their well-cared for, well-trained and (to them) docile mules, or at rest making chupatties, the smell of wood-fires—and of manure incinerators—the lines of animals, neighing or braying, the dumps, the incessant crack of rifles, and, above all, the flies and the mud.
A new nomenclature had now to be learnt and to be created. Fusilier Bluff, Geoghegan’s Bluff, the Gridiron, the Birdcages, Border, Essex, Hampshire, Lancashire, Douglas, Frith, Ashton, Burnley Streets or Roads soon became familiar signs. The derivation of most of the names is sufficiently obvious, but the “Eski Line” puzzled the men until some genius among them propounded the brilliant theory that “it’s the pet name of one of the Staff-officer’s wives.” As it was understood that he meant “of the wife of one of the Staff-officers,” the illuminating suggestion was adopted as satisfactory, and men were heard to murmur the name Eski ecstatically. Gully Ravine took the place of Krithia Nullah as the main road to the firing-line. The bed of the gully in September and October was deep in loose red sand which made very heavy going for tired troops, but when the mud came one sighed for the vanished sand. The transport was frequently thigh-deep in liquid mud in those evil days. On both sides stretched the horse and mule lines, and stores and dumps were placed at suitable spots. At the last bend of the gully a wag erected a cairn and labelled it Third Tower. This was hailed with delight by parties changing over, as all men who had trained on the Cairo—Suez Road understood that the end of their journey was close at hand. A thirty-yard rifle-range was constructed in the ravine for the training of the reinforcements from the third line, who had had little or no experience of the service rifle, and the modest beginning of a Divisional School came into being in one of the small offshoot gullies where Major Fawcus held his bombing-class.
A “rest” was more of a reality in the new area, and it was comparatively safe, but in Gallipoli the word rest held a very different significance from that attached to it at home. It had now become too closely associated with hard work to be really popular, and the dolce far niente illusion had been quite dispelled. It meant heavy fatigues day and night, much digging, the unloading of lighters and the carrying of heavy loads; but a Beach Fatigue had its compensations, for it was possible at times to get a bathe if one was not too fastidious to object to coal-dust and refuse from lighters, nor to the close companionship of the dead horses and mules that floated around. These were constantly being towed out to sea, but the homing instinct, or the current, brought them back again. “W” Beach even boasted a canteen (run by enterprising Greeks), and men who had time to spare and were possessed of patience might, after waiting for hours in a queue, come back with a bit of chocolate and a tin of fruit—rare and precious luxuries. One day would-be purchasers found the military police in possession. The Greeks had been arrested as spies, and were not seen again. In due course the Division ran its own popular canteen on Gully Beach.
As a rest-bivouac Gully Beach was a great improvement upon all previous resorts, and its attractions read like a holiday advertisement. A sea front, excellent bathing in the Mediterranean, superior accommodation on ledges cut in the cliff face—not unlike a colony of sea-birds—and those who applied early enough even got first-class quarters in a hole in the rock. Inside the ravine, where the bends gave complete protection from shell-fire, caves had been dug in the cliff sides, one above the other up to forty feet, and even more in places, above the bed of the gully. By night the illuminations in these irregular tiers of dug-outs, with the black outline of the cliff-tops beyond the highest tier of lights standing out distinct against the star-lit sky, gave the ravine an effect of glamour and romance—almost of sentimental prettiness—that contrasted strangely with the grim reality of day. “Doesn’t it remind you of Belle Vue?” was a comment frequently made by the men, all of whom were familiar with the chief attraction which Manchester provides for strangers. It was possible to walk upright along the coast road (or Marine Parade) past the little colony of the Greek Labour Corps to Lancashire Landing, but this shore road could not be used for wheeled traffic. The sunsets seen from the beach, or, better still, lying among the heather on the cliffs above, were at times gorgeous. Perhaps it was the peace of twilight, the red sun sinking behind the hills of Imbros or snow-capped Samothrace, that turned one’s thoughts and conversation homewards at the evening gatherings, and sharpened the longing for the good times that must surely be coming. Prime favourite of all items at the jolly sing-songs arranged by the various units was “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” and this was generally kept back for the closing chorus. These entertainments were excellent and they did good. Much hidden genius was brought to light, and a store of original and topical humour tapped.
Gully Ravine
In October a start was made with the construction of winter quarters, in the lower end of the ravine, for the Brigade in reserve, the R.A.M.C., etc. The supply of sandbags had improved and a minute quantity of corrugated iron sheets was rationed out to units.