With the Zionists in Gallipoli

by J. H. Patterson

By the time I had cantered up to him all the ammunition had been unloaded, and at the spot where I halted I found myself looking over a bank into the midst of a Battalion of cheery little Gurkhas (the 6th) and almost within handshake of their Commander, Colonel C. Bruce, who was an old acquaintance of mine. I had no idea he was in Gallipoli, and it was curious to come upon him, after some years, in the thick of a battle.

I stayed for a time chatting with him while the bullets and shells whizzed round—in fact, until an order came for his Battalion to go forward into the fight.

I myself went and took up a position on a hill close by, where I could see, as if from the gallery of a theatre, the whole fight staged before me; where I could note the move of practically every man and gun.

As I looked down from my post of observation, a saucer-like green valley full of olive trees, vine-yards and young corn spread out before me for some five miles, right away up to Achi Baba, the dominating hill, some six hundred or seven hundred feet high. The French, as I have already said, were away on the right, and I watched their infantry mass in hollows and ravines, then advance in wavy lines under the pounding shelter of their guns. The latter were served magnificently, and the infantry as they advanced found the ground to their immediate front swept yard by yard by the guns fired by their comrades a couple of miles to their rear.

It was a stirring sight to watch the officers dash out and give the men a lead when there was any hesitation or waver of the line. In places I could see the Turks run like hares, but on the extreme left the French who were in touch with our right could be seen retiring precipitately over the hill, badly slated by the Turks.

I was fascinated by the sight and wondered how that broken line could be again reformed. It was done, however, in the shelter of a bluff, and once more they charged over the hill and were then lost to my view.

The 29th Division extended from the French left, near the right centre of the saucer, across to the Ægean Sea. The front was towards Achi Baba, and our men made headway towards it in the face of fierce opposition. Our guns were barking away at the Turks in their trenches, and the great guns of the Fleet were hurling their high explosives, which descended on the doomed Turks with terrific effect. One could see great spurts of flame, smoke, earth, timbers, rocks, Turks, in fact, everything in the neighbourhood, going up as though shot out of the crater of a volcano.

To me it seemed as though nothing could possibly live under such a reign of death, which continued with ever-increasing intensity for an hour. Nothing could be seen of Achi Baba, or any other part of the Turkish position, owing to the smoke and dust which the bombardment had raised, and unfortunately the wind was blowing towards us, which brought everything into the eyes of our men as they leaped out of the trenches to the attack.

The moment the guns ceased one could discern, through the haze, the gleam of bayonets as the Allies swept forward along the whole front like a bristling wall of steel, right into the leading Turkish trenches.

Wherever the bombardment had done its work and smashed down the wire entanglements, our men found it easy to advance. Such Turks as remained in the trenches were dazed and demoralised by the shell fire, and were only too willing to surrender. But in some parts, especially on the left of the line, the guns had failed to cut down the barbed wire, and here our men were crumpled up by the deadly fire of rifle and machine-gun which was concentrated on them at this point.