The Dardanelles campaign

by Henry Woodd Nevinson

At Suvla, so soon as the order to evacuate arrived, our men began fortifying the points at each end of the bay, as positions where a last stand could be made. The front line extended for 11,000 yards, running from the shore of the Gulf of Xeros,[236] over the lofty “whale-back” of Kiretch Tepe Sirt at Jephson’s Post, down the steep southern slope, across the tree-covered and partly cultivated plain through the farms of Anafarta Ova and Sulajik, in front of Green and Chocolate Hill, and out into the swampy level of the Biyuk Anafarta valley, till it joined up with the Anzac lines. Fortunately, the recent tempest had filled the Salt Lake with water to an average depth of 4 feet; so that in the centre of the Suvla position no further defence was required, and, on the right, only about 1000 yards of marshy and waterlogged plain had to be entrenched or covered by wire entanglement. The remaining positions were defended by three lines, wired and entrenched, barbed-wire gates ready to close being prepared at all openings of paths and roads.

The embarkation was carried out from the north and south points of Suvla Bay. At the extreme end of the north or Suvla Point a small harbour, capable of receiving rafts, “beetles,” and even trawlers, had been constructed, chiefly by the skill of the 5th Anglesey Company R.E. (Captain Glenn), who had blasted away the rock and built an oblong of low walls to serve as wharves. Near the narrow entrance of this small harbour a steamer was also run aground as a stage alongside of which larger transports could lie. Guns, horses, mules, and stores were taken off on rafts and “beetles” in the little harbour. The battalions embarked from the sunken steamer, usually also on “beetles” or trawlers. The 53rd Division went first. Of the old fighting 29th Division, the 86th Brigade followed, getting away on the night of December 14–15. There remained the 11th, 13th, and Mounted Divisions, together with the 88th Brigade of the 29th, and it was arranged that the 11th Division with the 88th Brigade and one brigade of the 13th should leave from the north point, and the other two brigades of the 13th, together with the “mounted” forces and 500 Gurkhas of the Indian Brigade from Anzac, from the south or Nibrunesi Point, where they could embark from the C and B Beaches of the original landing, under cover of Lala Baba and the cliffs. A new pier had also been constructed near the point on the inside of Suvla Bay, fairly sheltered, though exposed to observation and shell-fire from “The Pimple” and that part of Kiretch Tepe Sirt. In fact, on the very last day (December 19), while I was at General Maude’s 13th Division Headquarters overlooking the pier from the cliff, a 5·7-inch shell tore a large gap in the middle of it; but it was rapidly repaired by the Engineers. A similar pier had been constructed on the far or Xeros side of Suvla Point, below the cliff on which General Byng had now fixed the IXth Army Corps Headquarters. This was entirely sheltered and unobserved, but was only to be used for the withdrawal of the very last detachment. The naval part of the embarkation at Suvla Point was under the direction of Captain Unwin, who organised and conducted it with the same enthusiastic, not to say explosive, energy which he had displayed during the landing on V Beach from the River Clyde.

Night after night, and all night long, the anxious labour was resumed. Guns—the “heavies,” the howitzers, and the field-guns—were drawn down to the harbour, and pushed or pulled with ropes upon the rafts. Mules and horses were brought down, but gradually, lest the enemy should notice the emptiness of the horse-lines along the point.[237] Stores were brought down, all that might have been needed only for summer or for a long campaign coming first. Then came the men, brigade by brigade, battalion by battalion, mustering at definite points about half a mile from the harbour, and in turn filing down to the transports. There was no confusion, no visible excitement. Silently the men took their places, and moved to quiet orders. Each carried full kit with pick and shovel or periscope.

RISKS DURING THE FINAL NIGHTS

As each night of the final week passed and the defences became weaker, the anxiety increased, though none was shown or mentioned. Apart from a general attack, danger lay in three points—the wind, the moon, and shelling by night. A south-west gale, or even a strong breeze arising in the last two days, would have stopped embarkation and left us almost defenceless. The moon was waxing, but a thin mist veiled it almost every night, and the half-obscured radiance helped to guide our men down the paths, and did not betray the meaning of the thin black lines which were just visible upon the twilit sea as trawlers, “beetles,” and rafts slid away. The Turks had the beaches exactly registered. At any hour of the night a dozen of their heavy shells would have reduced the little harbour to a bloody mash of animals and men. On the morning of December 16 they threw six 4·7-inch shells of improved bursting quality right into the middle of the embarkation beach, but it was almost empty then, and only one man was hurt. In the afternoon of the 17th they shelled A West Beach heavily for an hour. Such events showed their power for our destruction, but the nights remained undisturbed, except by our own ceaseless toil. An immense blaze of stores, lighted accidentally at Anzac before dawn on December 18, increased the peril of discovery, but the Turks remained indifferent to portents.

SCENE ON SUVLA POINT, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS BEFORE THE DEPARTURE

THE FINAL NIGHT AT SUVLA

The last day came. It was Sunday, December 19. Little by little the forces at Suvla had been reduced to 12,000 men and 16 guns, whereas, to hold a front line the length of ours, 33,000 men would be required by regulation. The day was passed as usual, each man doing his utmost to give a crowded appearance to the scene. At sunset, the guns fired their parting salute and were withdrawn—the last at 9.30. The men were then brought away—rather more than 6000 to Suvla Point, rather less to Nibrunesi. A small party was left to keep up rifle-fire in the front trenches. Larger parties were left to hold the second and third lines. The rest embarked. Shortly before midnight the front line came in, leaving lighted candles which at irregular intervals burnt a string to discharge a rifle, so that a desultory fusillade was maintained for about an hour. The second and third lines followed in turn, only sappers remaining behind to close up the barbed-wire gates, to cut the telephone wires, and to set trip- and contact-mines at points of likely resort. A party of 200 (I think, 9th West Yorks) were to hold the fourth line to the last, and sacrifice themselves if the Turks attacked.

Intermittent outbursts of firing came from the Turks, and we could hear the rumbling explosions as they toiled at blasting new trenches—an interesting example of labour lost. Once an aeroplane whirred overhead, invisible until she dropped one green star, which blazed for a few seconds just below Saturn and showed her to be ours. On the earth a few fires burned where camps were once inhabited, but gradually they faded out. Two lights glimmered from deserted hospital tents along the curving shore; for our doctors had remained to the last in readiness for the deaths and wounds of disaster. But now even they had gone, leaving notes to thank the Turks for their consideration towards the Red Cross. Otherwise, only the sea and the moon showed light, and over the white surface of the water those thin black lines kept moving away.