Of the five British landings the one at Sedd-el-Bahr (V. Beach) was the most difficult and disastrous.
On the 24th of April we were still lying at Tenedos, and in the afternoon were transferred to the "River Clyde". We learned the previous day that we were to land from this old coal boat that had been rendered so peculiar with her great, gaping holes, and khaki splashes on her starboard side. She had been an object of curiosity to us in Lemnos harbour, no one having any idea of her purpose.
Before dark all the men were served with tea and food, which we were told was to be their last solid meal. Soon after this the men retired to rest in a hold near the stern which had been allotted to the West Riding Engineers and ourselves. The officers took up their quarters in the stern deck house, where we had cocoa, tinned meat, etc., after which we too tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible in the most uncomfortable of all quarters, most shutting their eyes and pretending to be asleep.
Our nerves were now fully strung, we knew we were on the very eve of the landing, which we were assured was to be rendered easy by the Navy, which had promised that their bombardment was to be so terrific that nothing the size of a cockroach would be left alive on the peninsula. We soon learned to our cost how difficult it was to substantiate this assertion.
From Tenedos we were but a small party of ships. In the pitchy darkness we had fallen in with the bigger fleet coming direct from Lemnos, and as we crept along, every ship in total darkness, we could just make out other ships alongside us. One with big hull and unusual length of guns was immediately on our port. At close quarters there was no mistaking this for anything but a dummy warship.
After a time the searchlight on the point of the peninsula could be seen sweeping its rays in long, regular flashes across the sea. By this time those ships that had furthest to go were ahead of us to the right and left. Just as the inky darkness was beginning to be dispelled there was a change in these lazy flashes. We were detected. At once they changed their long, comprehensive sweeps into sharp jerks from one ship to another as each hove into the rays. The searchlight soon went out, while hurried messages were no doubt being flashed over the wires to Constantinople and many points in our immediate neighbourhood, announcing our long-expected arrival.
Soon the guns began to roar, the first I heard being to our left up the Gulf of Saros, but in a few minutes all the ships had joined in the chorus, from what was afterwards known as Anzac all round the point and some way up the Dardanelles. A grand roar such as the world had never heard. The peninsula was quickly one dense cloud of poisonous-looking yellow-black smoke, through which flashes of bursting shells were to be seen everywhere. It was truly a magnificent sight, and the roar of the guns stirred one's blood like some martial skirl from the bagpipes. The feeling one had was a longing for them to hurry up and do their work, and let us get at the Turk at close quarters.
Our old ship crept slowly in through the ring of warships, took a circular turn just as we were passing through the line—apparently we were in too great a hurry—then we straightened our course and passed close past our covering ship, "Queen Elizabeth," the finest ship in the whole Navy, and which had been detailed to look after us. How her guns roared as she poured out broadside, as we passed by her port side, straight in on full steam for the strip of sand under the village and fort of Sedd-el-Bahr.
Unable from our hold to see properly what was doing, I had spent most of the time on deck, and when about 200 yards from land I darted down below to warn the men to lie down in case we struck rock, when the impact would have been violent. I held on to a stanchion. We were fast in the sand before I was really aware that the ship was aground—there to lie for four years, to be shot at constantly whilst we occupied Gallipoli, but in spite of all her buffeting to serve many uses, and finally to become an object of veneration, "as holy as Westminster Abbey" some one says of her in "The Sphere". For the 2100 of us on board there was to be no retreat whatever happened. We had crossed the Rubicon and burned our boats.
On board we had the 1st Munster Fusiliers, two companies of the 1st Dublin Fusiliers, one company of Hants, 100 marines, a few of the Signal Company, the West Riding Engineers, and 124 stretcher-bearers of the 89th Field Ambulance.