When I got to Imbros the Fleet were firing at a Taube. She was only having a look; flying around the shipping and Headquarters camp at a great height, but dropping no bombs. After a bit she scooted off to the South-east. Cox dined.
15th June, 1915. Imbros. Yesterday I learned some detail about the conduct of affairs the other day—enough to make me very anxious indeed that no tired or nervy leaders should be sent out with the new troops. So I have sent K. a cable!—
"(No. M.F. 334). From General Sir Ian Hamilton to Earl Kitchener.
"With reference to the last paragraph of your telegram No. 5250, cipher, and my No. M.F. 313. I should like to submit for your consideration the following views of the qualities necessary in an Army Corps Commander on the Gallipoli Peninsula. In that position only men of good stiff constitution and nerve will be able to do any good. Everything is at such close quarters that many men would be useless in the somewhat exposed headquarters they would have to occupy on this limited terrain, though they would do quite good work if moderately comfortable and away from constant shell fire. I can think of two men, Byng and Rawlinson. Both possess the requisite qualities and seniority; the latter does not seem very happy where he is, and the former would have more scope than a cavalry Corps can give him in France."
Left camp the moment I got this weight off my chest; boarded the Savage, or rather jumped on her ladder like a chamois and scrambled on deck like a monkey. It was blowing big guns and our launch was very nearly swamped. Crossing to Helles big seas were making a clean sweep of the decks. Jolly to look at from the bridge.
After a dusty walk round piers and beaches lunched with Hunter-Weston before inspecting the 155th and 156th Brigades. On our road we were met by Brigadier-Generals Erskine and Scott-Moncrieff. Walked the trenches where I chatted with the regimental officers and men, and found my compatriots in very good form.
Went on to the Royal Naval Division Headquarters where Paris met me. Together we went round the 3rd Marine Brigade Section under Brigadier-General Trotman. These old comrades of the first landing gave me the kindliest greetings.
Got back to 8th Corps Headquarters intending to enjoy a cup of tea al fresco, but we were reckoning without our host (the Turkish one) who threw so many big shell from Asia all about the mound that, (only to save the tea cups), we retired with dignified slowness into our dugouts. Whilst sitting in these funk-holes, as we used to call them at Ladysmith, General Gouraud ran the gauntlet and made also a slow and dignified entry. He was coming back with me to Imbros. As it was getting late we hardened our hearts to walk across the open country between Headquarters and the beach, where every twenty seconds or so a big fellow was raising Cain. Fortune favouring we both reached the sea with our heads upon our shoulders.
An answer is in to our plea for a Western scale of ammunition, guns and howitzers. They cable sympathetically but say simply they can't. Soft answers, etc., but it would be well if they could make up their minds whether they wish to score the next trick in the East or in the West. If they can't do that they will be doubly done.
A purely passive defence is not possible for us; it implies losing ground by degrees—and we have not a yard to lose. If we are to remain we must keep on attacking here and there to maintain ourselves! But; to expect us to attack without giving us our fair share—on Western standards—of high explosive and howitzers shows lack of military imagination. A man's a man for a' that whether at Helles or Ypres. Let me bring my lads face to face with Turks in the open field, we must beat them every time because British volunteer soldiers are superior individuals to Anatolians, Syrians or Arabs and are animated with a superior ideal and an equal joy in battle. Wire and machine guns prevent this hand to hand, or rifle to rifle, style of contest. Well, then the decent thing to do is to give us shells enough to clear a fair field. To attempt to solve the problem by letting a single dirty Turk at the Maxim kill ten—twenty—fifty—of our fellows on the barbed wire,—ten—twenty—fifty—each of whom is worth several dozen Turks, is a sin of the Holy Ghost category unless it can be justified by dire necessity. But there is no necessity. The supreme command has only to decide categorically that the Allies stand on the defensive on the West for a few weeks and then Von Donop can find us enough to bring us through. Joffre and French, as a matter of fact, would hardly feel the difference. If the supreme command can't do that; and can't even send us trench mortars as substitutes, let them harden their hearts and wind up this great enterprise for which they simply haven't got the nerve.