With the Zionists in Gallipoli

by J. H. Patterson

The Lancashire Fusiliers had, therefore, to halt and take cover under the lee of the parapet, and during this time one of the men asked Claude Rolo what his job was in these parts, for, being in our shirt-sleeves, and pretty grimy with dust and with climbing about the trenches, he could not make out who or what we were.

When Rolo replied: "Oh, I've only come to see the show," "Oh, Hell," said the Lancashire man, "you must be mad to come to a show like this on your own."

I felt very sorry for the poor lads when they finally marched off. The day was hot enough to make one feel that the only way to keep cool was to sit in one's bones under the shade of a tree, and yet here were these Lancashire men loaded down with the whole weight of their packs—food, ammunition, blanket, belts, bayonet and rifle—marching on through this infernal heat to a bloody combat, where they would have to put forth all their efforts in getting rapidly across the fire-swept ground, plunge into and out of deep trenches, and, in addition, grapple hand to hand with no mean foe.

Some things are more than human nature can stand. You cannot overload the soldier, and then expect him to pull his full weight in battle with the broiling sun burning out his throat.

The Lancashire lads were soon in the thick of the fight, and a great many never again needed the shelter of a friendly trench.

We lost a few prisoners to the Turks in this battle owing to exhaustion, and it is a comfort to know that our gallant enemies treat such men of ours as fall into their hands with kindness. I never heard anything but praise for the Turk and the way he played the game. I only knew of one case of a prisoner being mutilated, and this may have been the work of a German, for the victim was a Sikh, and died before any evidence could be taken. The Turk is a clean fighter, and more than once they have pointed out to us that they would be glad if we would move a hospital ship a little further from the transports, for they feared that in firing at the latter they might hit the hospital, and, so far as the records go, this is more than would have been done by the Germans.

Among the prisoners taken in one of these battles were some German sailors from the Goeben, who had been working the machine-guns. When taken they had no more ammunition left, their officer and many others had been killed, and their position was quite hopeless, so they gladly surrendered. They looked crestfallen and sullen when I saw them as prisoners on their way to the beach.

During these hot July days the Turkish shells would often set fire to the dried-up gorse and bracken near our lines, and, as the wind usually came from the north, I have seen a raging line of fire, hundreds of yards long, with flames forty feet high, roaring and crackling down to our trenches.

Our men, however, had taken the precaution of cutting gorse down in front, so that the fire never actually overwhelmed our lines.

The Turks did not lack initiative; their snipers gave us a considerable amount of trouble all the time we were on the Peninsula. Two of these men obtained some celebrity by their daring and originality. They actually concealed themselves between some of our guns, and before they were hunted down and shot they had killed and wounded several of our officers and men. They were painted green all over, face, hands, clothes, and even their rifles, while little green bushes, similar to the gorse around, were tied to their heads.