With the Zionists in Gallipoli

by J. H. Patterson

I shall never forget my first night in Gallipoli. We loaded up a couple of hundred mules, each mule carrying about two thousand cartridges, and with Major O'Hara (now Lieut.-Colonel O'Hara), who was the D. A. Q. M. G., as guide, we marched off into the darkness to distribute ammunition along the front.

Major O'Hara came with me, partly because he knew the way, and partly because he wanted to make sure what were the most urgent needs of the men in the trenches. We trudged together all through that trying night, so it is not much to be wondered at that we almost quarrelled once or twice—but I will say here that of all the men I met in Gallipoli there was not one who was so capable at his job, or worked so hard to see that everything for which he was responsible ran smoothly. Oh, if only our Army could be staffed with O'Haras, what a wonderfully efficient machine our Army would be!

Soon after we left W Beach in the dark it began to pour, and it poured and poured solidly for about five hours.

On we squelched through the mud over unknown tracks with the water streaming down our bodies and running in rivulets out of our boots. As soon as the rain ceased a biting cold wind set in, which froze us to the marrow. However, the vigorous walking, helping up a fallen mule, readjusting the loads, getting out of holes into which we had tumbled, etc., kept our circulation going, and when we arrived at a place known as Pink Farm, the furthest point to which we had yet advanced, there was a sudden alarm that the Turks were approaching. Nobody knew then where our front line was, or whether it linked up across the Peninsula. There were many gaps in it through which the Turks, if they had had initiative enough, might have forced their way and inflicted a considerable amount of damage upon us before we could have organised adequate resistance.

On the first alarm of the approaching Turks I sent a man out to reconnoitre, formed my little escort in open order, prone on the grass, and asked Major Moore, D. S. O. of the General Staff, now Brigadier-General Moore, to bring some men from the trenches, if he could find them, as quickly as possible, for I had no desire to lose my convoy at such an early stage of the proceedings.

Gongs could plainly be heard sounding, apparently close by, as though it was some prearranged signal of the enemy, but whatever the reason we saw nothing of the Turks, and no attack was made, so we unloaded our ammunition and were then sent back for more by Colonel B. to Lancashire Landing. Now Colonel B. of the Headquarters Staff told me personally on no account to bring back supplies, but only ammunition, as no supplies were needed at this place for the present. Unluckily O'Hara was not on the spot when Colonel B. gave me these explicit and reiterated instructions, so when we got back to the beach he wished to load up supplies, but this I refused to do owing to the specific orders I had received. O'Hara was furious but I was obdurate, so, of course, we loaded up with ammunition.

Back again we trudged steadily through rain and slush towards the Pink Farm. When we had got about half-way, we were met by a Staff Officer who told us,—to O'Hara's great satisfaction,—that it was not ammunition which was now wanted at the Pink Farm but supplies. I am not at all sure that I did not overhear O'Hara call me "an obstinate damn fool," but it is as well to be hard of hearing as it is to possess a blind eye on occasions.

The upshot was that we had to return to the beach, unload the ammunition, load up boxes of tinned beef, cheese, biscuits and jam, and then back again along the "sludgy squdgy" road we trudged once more towards that never-to-be-forgotten Pink Farm. Again we got about half-way there, when yet another Staff Officer met us, who told us that the supplies were not wanted by the brigade holding the line at the Pink Farm, but by the brigade holding the line on the extreme right, where they were urgently required, and he ordered us to take them there without delay. It was now my turn to chuckle, and I observed to O'Hara that there "really must be a damn fool somewhere about after all."

Without a murmur we turned back once more, for, not knowing the country, nor where we might bump into the enemy, we could not take a short cut across, so were forced to return to W Beach. From thence we went along the track by the Helles cliff which took us to the top of V Beach; our route then led us through Sedd-el-Bahr village, where we were warned by a French soldier that we would be sniped by Turks as there were many still lurking there.

When we got safely clear of this jumpy place, we found ourselves wending our way through some Turkish cemeteries, the tall, white, thin headstones, with their carved headlike top knobs, looking exactly like ghosts in the gloomy light. We passed through cypress groves, along sandy lanes, and rugged paths, fell into and scrambled out of dug-outs, ditches and dongas, where mules and loads tumbled about indiscriminately to the accompaniment of much profanity.