Tidings of great joy from Anzac. The whole of the enemy's freshly-arrived contingent have made a grand assault and have been shattered in the attempt. Samson dropped bombs on them as they were standing on the shore after their disembarkation. Next, they were moved up into the fight where a tremendous fire action was in progress. Last, they stormed forward in the densest masses yet seen on the Peninsula. Then, they were mown down and driven back headlong. So they have had a dreadnought reception. This has not been a local trench attack but a real battle and a fiery one. I have lost no time in cabling the glorious news to K. The cloud of these coming enemy reinforcements has cast its shadow over us for awhile and now the sun shines again.
20th May, 1919. H.M.T. "Arcadian." Aubrey Herbert saw me before dinner. He brings a message from Birdie to say that there has been some sort of parley with the enemy who wish to fix up an armistice for the burial of their dead. Herbert is keen on meeting the Turks half way and I am quite with him, provided Birdie clearly understands that no Corps Commander can fix up an armistice off his own bat, and provided it is clear we do not ask for the armistice but grant it to them—the suppliants. Herbert brings amazing fine detail about the night and day battle on the high ridges. Birdie has fairly taken the fighting edge off Liman von Sanders' two new Divisions: he has knocked them to bits. A few more shells and they would have been swept off the face of the earth. As it is we have slaughtered a multitude. Since the 18th we are down to two rounds per gun per diem, but the Turks who have been short of stuff since the 8th instant are now once more well found. Admiral Thursby tells me he himself counted 240 shells falling on one of Birdwood's trenches in the space of ten minutes. I asked him if that amounted to one shell per yard and he said the whole length of the trench was less than 100 yards. On the 18th fifty heavy shells, including 12-inch and 14-inch, dropped out of the blue vault of heaven on to the Anzacs. Everyone sorry to say good-bye to Thursby who goes to Italy.
Rumours that Winston is leaving the Admiralty. This would be an awful blow to us out here, would be a sign that Providence had some grudge against the Dardanelles. Private feelings do not count in war, but alas, how grievous is this set-back to one who has it in him to revive the part of Pitt, had he but Pitt's place. Haldane, too. Are the benefits of his organization of our army to be discounted because they had a German origin? Fas est et ab hoste doceri. Half the guns on the Peninsula would have been scrap-iron had it not been for Haldane! But if this turns out true about Winston, there will be a colder spirit (let them appoint whom they will) at the back of our battleships here.
21st May, 1915. H.M.T. "Arcadian." Imbros. De Robeck came on board with Lieutenant-Commander Boyle of E. 4 fame. I was proud indeed to meet the young and modest hero. He gets the V.C.; his other two officers the D.S.O.; his crew the D.C.M.
Also he brought with him the Reuter giving us the Cabinet changes and the resignations of Fisher and Winston and this, in its interest, has eclipsed even V.C.s for the moment. De Robeck reminded me that Lord K.'s cable (begging me to help him to combat any idea of withdrawal) must have been written that very day. A significant straw disclosing the veering of the winds of high politics! Evidently K. felt ill at ease; evidently he must now be sitting at a round table surrounded by masked figures. Have just finished writing him to sympathize; to say he is not to worry about me as "I know that as long as you remain at the War Office no one will be allowed to harm us out here." Nor could they if he were the K. of old; the K. who downed Milner and Chamberlain by making a peace by agreement with the Boers and then swallowed a Viceroy and his Military Member of Council as an appetiser to his more serious digest of India. But is he? Where are the instruments?—gone to France or gone to glory. Callwell is the exception.
I would give a great deal for one good talk with K.—I would indeed. But this is not France. Time and space forbid my quitting the helm and so I must try and induce the mountain to come to Mahomet. My letter goes on to say, "Could you not take a run out here and see us? If once you realize with your own eyes what the troops are doing I would never need to praise them again. Travelling in the Phaeton you would be here in three days; you would see some wonderful things and the men would be tremendously bucked up. The spirit of all ranks rises above trials and losses and is confident of the present and cheery about the future."
Quite apart from any high politics, or from my coming to a fresh, clear, close understanding with K. on subjects neither of us understood when last we spoke together, I wish, on the grounds of ordinary tactics, he could make up his mind to come out. The man who has seen gains self-confidence and the prestige of his subject when he encounters others who have only heard and read. K. might snap his fingers at the new hands in the Cabinet once he had been out and got the real Gallipoli at their tips.
I can't keep my thoughts from dwelling on the fate of Winston. How will he feel now he realizes he is shorn of his direct power to help us through these dark and dreadful Straits? Since I started nothing has handicapped me more than the embargo which a double loyalty to K. and to de Robeck has imposed upon my communications to Winston. What a tragedy that his nerve and military vision have been side-tracked: his eclipse projects a black shadow over the Dardanelles.
Very likely the next great war will have begun before we realize that the three days' delay in the fall of Antwerp saved Calais. No more brilliant effort of unaided genius in history than that recorded in the scene when Winston burst into the Council Chamber and bucked up the Burgomeisters to hold on a little bit longer. Any comfort our people may enjoy from being out of cannon shot of the Germans—they owe it to the imagination, bluff and persuasiveness of Winston and to this gallant Naval Division now destined to be starved to death!
Sent my first despatch home to-day by King's Messenger. Never has story been penned amidst so infernal a racket.