This policy is all very well in normal times, but does not do for war. Some men cannot shake off the petty trammels by which they are fettered in times of peace.
I have no doubt the Turks much enjoyed the use of a considerable amount of this "earmarked" material, which, if it had been issued to us, would have greatly enhanced the comfort of man and beast.
I remember on one occasion being in want of a gallon of tar. Now there was any amount of it in the stores, in fact, one could see it oozing out of the barrels in all directions. I wanted this tar to put on some ropes and sacks filled with sand which I was burying in the ground to make my horse lines and to waterproof some canvas; so I sent a man to the R. E. Park, with a requisition, hoping to get it back in the course of half an hour or so; but no: all he brought back was a letter to say: "Please explain for what purpose you require this gallon of tar." I was so annoyed that I replied: "To make a bonfire when you get the order of the boot." But I have some doubt as to whether this message ever reached its destination, as I had a very diplomatic adjutant.
The officers and men of the corps of Royal Engineers who wore no red-tabs were simply splendid, and it was with admiration that I often watched them at all hours of the day and night, digging trenches, making saps, or putting up barbed wire, right in the very teeth of the enemy—"Second to None."
It is sometimes of vital importance in war to do the exact contrary to all peace tradition; but men get into a groove, get narrow, and often fail to rise to the occasion. I have a good instance of this in mind. A certain officer refused to issue sandbags from his store when they were urgently needed. (This did not happen at Helles.) "They cost sixpence each," he remarked, "and I have got to be careful of them,"—a wise precaution in peace-time, but utterly unsound in war, because a few sandbags at sixpence each might save the lives of several soldiers worth hundreds of pounds, putting it on merely a cash basis.
CHAPTER XXX
BACK TO ENGLAND
Shortly before I left Gallipoli our Staff arranged what the American soldier would call a great "stunt." Materials for a huge bonfire were secretly collected and placed in a commanding position after dark on the heights near the Ægean coast; near to it a mine was laid. At about ten o'clock at night this was purposely exploded, making a terrific report; next moment, according to prearranged plan, the bonfire, which had been liberally saturated with oil and tar, burst into a great sheet of flame which lit up half our end of the Peninsula. Our Staff fully expected that the explosion followed by the great fire would bring every Turk out of the depths of his trench to the parapet in order to see what had happened; so at this moment every gun on the Peninsula, which of course had the range of these Turkish trenches to a yard, loosed off a mighty salvo. Next morning at daylight the Staff eagerly scanned the enemy's parapets, expecting to see them littered with dead—but instead they were somewhat chagrined to observe our old friend the Turkish wag slowly raise a great placard announcing: "No Casualties!"