“There is a great future for you in the Army,” said General Djevad, as we parted from this hero.

Poor Hassan’s “future” came two days afterward, when the Allied fleet made its greatest attack. One of the shells struck his dugout, which caved in, killing the boy. Yet his behaviour on the day I visited his battery showed that he regarded the praise of his General as sufficient compensation for all that he had suffered or all that he might suffer.

I was much puzzled by the fact that the Allied fleet, despite its large expenditures of ammunition, had not been able to hit this Dardanos emplacement. I naturally thought at first that such a failure indicated poor marksmanship, but my German guides said that that was not the case. All this misfire merely illustrated once more the familiar fact that a rapidly-manœuvring battleship is under great disadvantage in shooting at a fixed fortification. But there was another point involved in the Dardanos battery. My hosts called my attention to its location; it was perched on the top of the hill, in full view of the ships, itself forming a part of the skyline. Dardanos was merely five steel turrets, each with a gun, approached by a winding trench.

“That,” they said, “is the most difficult thing in the world to hit. It is so distinct that it looks easy, but the whole thing is an illusion.”

I do not understand completely the optics of the situation, but it seems that the skyline creates a kind of mirage, so that it is practically impossible to hit anything at that point, except by accident. The gunner might get what was apparently a perfect sight, yet his shell would go wide. The record of Dardanos had been little short of marvellous. Up to March 18th, the ships had fired at it about 4,000 shells. One turret had been hit by a splinter, which had also scratched the paint, another had been hit and slightly bent in, and another had been hit hear the base and a piece about the size of a man’s hand had been knocked out. But not a single gun had been even slightly damaged. Eight men had been killed, including Lieutenant Hassan, and about forty had been wounded. That was the extent of the destruction.

“It was the optical illusion that saved Dardanos,” one of the Germans remarked.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE ALLIED ARMADA SAILS AWAY, THOUGH ON THE BRINK OF VICTORY

Again getting into the automobile, we rode along the shore, my host calling my attention to the minefields, which stretched from Tchanak southward about seven miles. In this area the Germans and Turks had scattered nearly 400 mines. They told me with a good deal of gusto that the Russians had furnished a considerable number of these destructive engines. Day after day Russian destroyers sowed mines at the Black Sea entrance to the Bosphorus, hoping that they would float down-stream and fulfil their appointed task. Every morning Turkish and German mine-sweepers would go up, fish out these mines, and place them in the Dardanelles.

The battery at Erenkeui had also been subjected to a heavy bombardment, but it had suffered little. Unlike Dardanos, it was situated back of a hill, completely shut out from view. In order to fortify this spot, I was told, the Turks had been compelled practically to dismantle the fortifications of the Inner Straits—that section of the stream which extends from Tchanak to Point Nagara. This was the reason why this latter part of the Dardanelles was now practically unfortified. The guns that had been moved for this purpose were old-style Krupp pieces of the model of 1885.

South of Erenkeui, on the hills bordering the road, the Germans had introduced an innovation. They had found several Krupp howitzers left over from the Bulgarian war and had installed them on concrete foundations. Each battery had four or five of these emplacements, so that, as I approached them, I found several substantial bases that apparently had no guns. I was mystified further at the sight of a herd of buffaloes—I think I counted sixteen engaged in the operation—hauling one of these howitzers from one emplacement to another. This, it seems, was part of the plan of defence. As soon as the dropping shells indicated that the fleet had obtained the range, the howitzer would be moved, with the aid of buffalo teams, to another concrete emplacement.