Even after the evacuation of Suvla and Anzac, many hoped that Helles at least would be retained as a perpetual threat to the heart of the Turkish Empire. But being by this time deeply entangled at Salonika, where the French and English forces had lately been driven back from the edges of Serbia across the Greek frontier, the Cabinet resolved to wipe out the Dardanelles Expedition, as a gambler “cuts his losses,” and leave no trace or profit of all the army’s incomparable deeds. Certainly, it would have been difficult to remain at Helles now that heavy guns were being brought down from Suvla and Anzac; superior German shells had arrived, and German guns were on the way. Throughout the end of December the bombardment was at times very violent, reaching extreme intensity about 1 p.m. on December 24, when the right and centre of our line, from the front trenches to the sea, suffered the severest shelling experienced at Helles.[239] With the help of the Navy, and by the construction of deeper trenches and solid shelter, it might have been possible to hold the position as a kind of Gibraltar guarding the Straits. But Imbros and Tenedos, for a naval Power, served that purpose with less risk, and since the glorious hope of advancing upon Constantinople was definitely abandoned, it was argued best to quit Helles and the whole Peninsula.
EVACUATION OF HELLES ORDERED
On Christmas Eve, General Birdwood was directed to prepare a scheme; four days later to complete the evacuation as quickly as possible.[240] The problem was to bring away unnoticed rather more than 35,000 men, about 4000 animals, about 110 guns, and over 1000 tons of stores. Most of the remaining French Division had been gradually withdrawn during December, and the 4000 left at the end of the year were embarked on French warships during the night of January 1–2. By consent of General Brulard, however, the French guns were left under command of General Davies with the VIIIth Corps. The French lines were taken over by the Royal Naval Division—that military maid-of-all-work. Some have said that the soldier-sailors were dressed in French grey to deceive such of the enemy as could not hear or understand their language; but this was untrue.
The 42nd (East Lancashire) Division, which had throughout done such steady and persistent work under Major-General Douglas, was withdrawn for a much-needed rest,[241] and the 13th (Major-General Stanley Maude), having been at Imbros since the Suvla evacuation, was transferred to Helles. The redoubtable 29th Division was also sent back to the scene of its early triumphs. The troops to go at the last belonged, therefore, to the 13th, 29th, 52nd, and Royal Naval Divisions.
LAST FIGHTING ON THE PENINSULA
During the days of preparation, little happened to break the appearance of routine. Almost the last assault from our side had been made on December 19, when, simply to distract attention from the evacuation in the north, parts of the 42nd and 52nd Divisions attacked beside the Krithia Nullah, and the 5th Highland Light Infantry (157th Brigade) especially distinguished themselves. Sir Charles Monro also mentions a successful attack by the 52nd Division on December 29. But, for the most part, on our side we beguiled the Turk by periods of complete silence, especially between 8 p.m. and 2 a.m., so as to habituate him to inattentive repose. For the last days, one British 6-inch gun and six old-fashioned French “heavies” alone were retained, to give a semblance of active hostility. On January 7, however, the very day before our departure, the enemy, possessed by one of his unaccountable moods, directed a terrible bombardment against the 13th Division on our left from Achi Baba, and a slighter fire against the R.N.D. on our right from Asia. It lasted all afternoon, and at 3.30 the Turks attempted an attack near Fusilier Bluff, between Gully Ravine and the sea. Officers were seen urging the men forward as in earlier days; but the men had no longer the spirit of earlier days, and since they were disinclined to move, the attack faded away. Fortunately, our want of artillery was compensated by a naval squadron off the west coast. None the less, we lost a hundred and six wounded and fifty-eight killed—the last to lay their bones upon the earth of that dedicated Peninsula. The 7th North Staffords were chiefly engaged.
Next morning (January 8) rose fair, with a light southerly breeze. The Turks kept unusually quiet, and it was resolved to accomplish the evacuation as arranged. Major-General Lawrence (C.O. 52nd Division) had been put in charge of the embarkation on the military side. Positions on all the beaches were fortified as redoubts for a small garrison to hold to the last. On Gully Beach, Major-General Maude selected the position and prepared the evacuation of his 13th Division. Specially selected officers superintended the W and V Beaches. The naval arrangements were carried out by Captain C. M. Staveley, R.N., assisted by naval officers at each point of embarkation. In addition to the three strongly wired lines of defence across the Peninsula, a fourth had been constructed from Gully Beach to De Tott’s Battery. Troops on the left naturally withdrew from Gully Beach or W (four piers); on the right from V Beach (three piers and the River Clyde).
THE EVACUATION OF HELLES
On the afternoon of the final day the Divisions had only four battalions apiece remaining upon the Peninsula. They came away in three groups or trips, the first withdrawing soon after 7 p.m. and getting off in destroyers and “beetles” without difficulty. But at sunset the breeze freshened, and it began to blow hard from the south-west, the quarter to which W Beach was most exposed. The connecting platform between the shore and the hulks which served as wharves there was washed away by heavy seas. Still, the second group, and even guns, were safely taken off about midnight. On V Beach, while the second group was waiting at eleven o’clock, the Asiatic guns began to bombard, but fortunately all but two shells fell short into the sea, and only one man was wounded. Hardly, however, had fifty of the R.N.D. put off to the Prince George in a “beetle” at 11.30 and got under way for Mudros with 1500 others, when they felt the dull thud of a torpedo against the vessel’s side. The torpedo did not explode, but the presence of the submarine, known to the navy all the evening, added to the anxiety of the final hours. Starting from Gully Beach, a lighter also went aground after all had left, and the 160 men had to be landed again and marched over to W Beach for embarkation.
At 11.30 the final party or rearguard—about sixty men from each Division—withdrew from the front lines. With bombs and rifle-fire they had kept up as much noise as they could to conceal the movement of the rest. Now, leaving lights and devices by which dropping water filled tins and discharged rifles when the tins were full, they crept away under cover of officers’ patrols, who maintained a desultory fire, barred the gates, and connected the mines. About 2.30 all arrived at the beaches, to find a heavy surf dashing upon the shore. Nevertheless, though under great stress and peril, by 3.30 the beaches were cleared. The Military Transport Officer, coming off the River Clyde, was the last man to leave. Time fuses lighted the heaps of abandoned stores, and exploded masses of ammunition. In all, fourteen of our well-worn old 15-pounders, a 6-inch gun, and the six old French “heavies” were abandoned and destroyed. Far worse was the fate of 508 horses and mules, most of which were killed. All animals and stores might have been embarked, had it been safe to wait. But the rising storm of that night was a warning, and, as at Suvla, only by the barest luck in weather was disaster avoided. The Turks began shelling the beaches at the first sight of the fires, and continued that unprofitable expenditure till 6.30 a.m. of January 9. At Helles, as at Suvla and Anzac, those incalculable Orientals remained ignorant of our departure, though here expecting it. No doubt they were glad at our going; naturally, they were glad. And so, by the evacuation, our authorities, whether political or military, were acting contrary to Napoleon’s maxim of war: “Never do what you know your enemy wants you to do.”