The 10th Division—perhaps the pick of the New Army troops on the Peninsula—being ordered to sail at once, embarked on September 30, and, though passing by way of Mudros, was able to land its first detachments at Salonika on October 5, finding two French Divisions already there.[219] General Bailloud’s Division, leaving on October 3, began to reach the rendezvous on the same day. There the whole force soon came under the command of General Sarrail, who arrived on October 12, and it was shortly afterwards augmented by other French and British Divisions, two of which were believed to have left England as reinforcements for Sir Ian, but to have been diverted to the new scene of action upon their way.[220]
So far as the immediate protection of Serbia was concerned, the Allied force thus hurried over from Gallipoli—not more than 15,000 men[221]—was almost an absurdity, though its arrival caused futile rejoicing among the Serbian people. Its only possible service was to inspire some sort of confidence in a Greek army hastening to save the ally of Greece from destruction. But the Greek army did not hasten. On September 28 (the day of Sir Edward Grey’s speech) Venizelos announced the necessity of mobilisation. On October 3 Russia issued an ultimatum to Bulgaria warning her to break off relations with the Central Powers and dismiss their officers from Sofia. Two days later, the Entente withdrew their representatives, and Bulgaria entered the war as an ally of Germany, though England did not actually declare war upon her till October 15. But on the very day upon which Bulgaria’s intentions were declared, an unexpected blow, which might have been expected, fell. King Constantine informed Venizelos that he did not support the policy of intervention. “I do not wish to assist Serbia,” he said, “because Germany will be victorious, and I do not wish to be defeated.” After pleading the cause of honour and probable advantage, not for the first time in vain, Venizelos resigned, and M. Zaimis, a peaceful banker, formed a Government based on a neutrality of “complete and sincere benevolence” toward the Western Allies.[222]
BULGARIAN INVASION OF SERBIA
It was in vain that on October 7 England again offered to cede Cyprus to Greece as a tempting inducement to fulfil the claims of honour. The King could only repeat his sentiment of “complete and sincere benevolence,” while, as for honour, he maintained a benevolent correspondence, at least equally complete and sincere, with the Court and General Staff in Berlin. He further soothed the conscientious scruples of his people—a task well within the limits of his capacity—by pointing out that the treaty with Serbia did indeed bind them to resist an attack upon her by Bulgaria, but not an invasion supported by other Powers. Once again the people of Greece had cause to congratulate themselves upon possessing a monarch resolute enough to resist the popular will, and adroit enough to interpret the code of honour in accordance with their interests and their conscience. It was true that the most complete and sincere benevolence, as practised by the Greek officers and officials at Salonika, was designed to hinder rather than assist the small and war-worn body of Allies now landing there. So far as saving Serbia went, their landing had now become a belated and unserviceable chivalry. But a King’s function is to further the interests of his own people, and Greeks might fairly hope to derive material advantage from the presence of a lavishly expensive foreign army in their port; and they derived it.[223]
As any one with some knowledge of Macedonia, Drama, and the Bulgarian frontier might have anticipated, the objects of the Salonika adventure were frustrated from the outset. Serbia was not saved; Bulgaria was not penetrated; the enemy’s communication with Sofia and Constantinople was not threatened. Salonika certainly was rescued from Austrian or Bulgarian occupation; the enemy was thwarted of its possible use as a submarine base (a dubious possibility, as many naval authorities thought); the Entente retained some hold, however small, upon the Balkan Peninsula, and could treat their position as a fulcrum for levering the Greek monarch from his throne. Those were the only advantages, and one may estimate them as considerable. But upon the far grander strategic conception of the Dardanelles, the Salonika project fell like a headsman’s blow. Little life was left beyond the subsiding spasms of a decapitated man. Balked of reinforcement, deprived of half the French contingent and one among his finest new Divisions, Sir Ian called up all his reserve of indomitable hopefulness—a General’s finest quality—for the support of himself and the army that still remained, however diminished. But the powers of darkness gathered round. In front lay the Turks, soon to be supplied with more German officers, more heavy guns, high explosives, and food. Close around him, and at the centre in London, unexpected figures could be discerned moving in obscurity, whispering despair, and suggesting disaster with the malign satisfaction of prophets whose gloomy forebodings fulfil their prognostications. It became evident that a General’s essential supports—the confidence and zealous co-operation of his own Government, never very enthusiastic in Sir Ian’s case—were melting away faster even than his army.
The Turks, on their side, evidently knew that the Irish and French Divisions were going and had gone; for the morning after the departure of the last detachments their aeroplanes dropped messages over the Indian encampments telling the Indians that they were being abandoned only to have their throats cut on the Peninsula. Otherwise, except for occasional air-raids to drop bombs upon the General Headquarters at Imbros, the impenetrable Turks remained quiescent, perhaps already calculating that the Peninsula would be relieved of invaders without their stir, or perhaps merely awaiting the supply of big guns and ammunition, soon to be so easily transmitted by way of Nish and Sofia. Their very silence was ominous; but more ominous still, for the moment, seemed a violent southerly gale which on the night of October 8–9 swept away the two landing-piers at Anzac, sank the valuable water-lighters there, and drove three of the motor-“beetles” ashore at Suvla. Happily, the Australians had recently constructed a new pier in the bay north of Ari Burnu, sheltered from the south wind by that small promontory. There supplies could be landed in any weather both for Suvla and Anzac, but the storm presaged evil for the approaching winter.
KITCHENER INQUIRES ABOUT EVACUATION
Two days later (on October 11) Lord Kitchener telegraphed asking Sir Ian for an estimate of the losses which would be involved in an evacuation of the Peninsula. After consultation with Major-General Braithwaite, his Chief of Staff, and other members of the Staff, Sir Ian replied that the probable loss was estimated at 50 per cent. No estimate could be anything but a guess. All depended upon incalculable weather and incalculable Turks. Earlier in the campaign, General Gouraud had estimated a loss of two Divisions out of six in case of evacuation at Helles. In any case, Sir Ian replied on October 12 in terms showing that such a step as evacuation was to him unthinkable.[224] Apart from losses, evacuation would release an army of the best Turkish troops for renewed attack in Mesopotamia or Egypt, to say nothing of the Caucasus and Persia. The risk to our position throughout Asia, dependent as it was upon prestige rather than power, had in such a case also to be gravely considered.
On October 16 Lord Kitchener again telegraphed, saying that the War Council wished to make a change in the command. As he afterwards informed Sir Ian, “the Government desired a fresh, unbiased opinion, from a responsible Commander, upon the question of early evacuation.”[225] To supply this fresh, unbiased opinion they had appointed General Sir Charles Monro, with Major-General Lynden-Bell as his Chief of Staff. Until their arrival, General Birdwood was to assume command on the Peninsula.
During the morning of the 17th General Brulard, who had succeeded General Bailloud in command of the French contingent, came over to Imbros with his Staff to say good-bye. Generals Davies and Byng, with the Staffs of the VIIIth and IXth Corps, followed. To say good-bye to his own Staff, Sir Ian rode to the new Headquarters at the entrance of the main valley across the bay, whither he was himself to have removed that very afternoon. To the army he issued the following special order as farewell: