Days to Remember: The British Empire in the Great War

by John Buchan; Sir Henry John Newbolt

At Beach V the landing is still in its first stage. Men are still sheltering on the deadly beach behind the sandbank. We have gained some positions among the ruins which were once Sedd-el-Bahr, but not enough to allow us to proceed. Even as we look a final effort is beginning, in which the Dublin Fusiliers and the Munster Fusiliers distinguish themselves, though it is hard to select any for special praise among the splendid battalions of the 29th Division. It continues all morning, most gallantly directed till he fell by Lieutenant-Colonel Doughty-Wylie of the Headquarters Staff, and about 2 p.m. it is successful. The main Turkish trenches are carried, the debris of the castle and village are cleared, and the enemy is in retreat. The landing can now go forward, and the men, who for thirty-two hours have been huddled behind the sandbank, enduring torments of thirst and a nerve-racking fire, can move their cramped limbs and join their comrades.

By the morning of Tuesday, the 27th, all the beaches—except Beach Y, which had been relinquished—were in working order, and the advance could proceed. Next morning it began, and by the evening of the 28th we had securely won the butt of the peninsula, and our front ran from 3 miles north-west of Cape Tekke to a mile north of Eski Hissarlik.

So ended the opening stage of the Gallipoli campaign—the Battle of the Landing. It was a fight without a precedent. There had been landings—such as Abercromby's at Aboukir and Wolfe's at the cove west of Louisburg—fiercely contested landings, in our history, but none on a scale like this. Sixty thousand men, backed by the most powerful navy in the world, attacked a shore which nature seemed to have made impregnable, and which was held by not inferior numbers of the enemy, in positions prepared for months, and supported by the latest modern artillery. The mere problem of transport was sufficient to deter the boldest. Every rule of war was set at nought. On paper the thing was impossible, as the Turkish army orders announced. According to the text-books no man should have left the beaches alive. We were fighting against a gallant enemy who was at his best in defence and in this unorthodox type of battle. That our audacity succeeded was due to the unsurpassable fighting quality of our men—the Regulars and Territorials of the 29th Division, the Naval Division, and not least to the dash and doggedness of the Australasian corps. The Gallipoli campaign was to end in failure, but, whatever be our judgment on its policy or its consequences, the Battle of the Landing must be acclaimed as a marvellous, an unparalleled feat of arms.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE DEPARTURE FROM GALLIPOLI.

By September 1915 it was clear that the Gallipoli expedition could not succeed. All summer the hopeless struggle had continued for the heights of the peninsula. In July reinforcements arrived, and in August these new divisions, together with the Anzacs,[#] made an attack, that of the left wing at Suvla Bay being designed to turn the enemy flank. This supreme effort failed. There was no chance of further reserves, for the entry of Bulgaria into the war meant that the Allies must send troops to Salonika to help Serbia if possible, and in any case to protect the northern frontier of Greece. Only one course was possible—to get off the peninsula as best we could.

[#] So called from the initial letters of the first Australasian Corps—"Australian and New Zealand Army Corps."

After much discussion it was decided to evacuate the positions at Suvla and Anzac, and to retain those at Cape Helles. Nearly everybody concerned in the matter assumed that this would entail a heavy loss. Many estimated it at 15 per cent., and the most hopeful were prepared for the loss of at least one division. An embarkation in the face of the enemy had always meant a stiff rearguard fight and many casualties.

On the 8th December Sir Charles Monro, who was then in command of the British troops in the Ægean, issued orders for evacuation. The difficulties were enormous. It was a question of embarking not a division or two, but three army corps; it was impossible to move them all at once with the available transports; there must be a gap between the operations, and this meant that the enemy would probably be forewarned of the later movements. Moreover, a lengthy embarkation put us terribly at the mercy of the winter weather. Even a mild wind from the south or south-west raised a swell that made communication with the beaches precarious.

The plan was to move the war material, including the heavy guns, by instalments during a period of ten days, working only at night. A large portion of the troops would also be got off during these days, certain picked battalions being left to the last. Everything was to be kept normal during the daylight, and every morning before daybreak the results of the night's work must be hidden. Success depended upon two things mainly—fine weather and secrecy.