By the middle of August they were only a few miles from the railway, but all the routes led through defiles, and the neighboring heights were in the possession of the Austrians. To capture these heights was a most difficult feat, which the Italians performed in the most brilliant way; but even after they had passed these defiles success was not yet won. Each Italian column was in its own grove, with no lateral communication. The Austrians could mass themselves where they pleased. As a result the Italian forces were compelled to halt.
In the Trentino campaign the Italians soon captured the passes, and moved against Trente and Roverito. These towns were heavily fortified, as were their surrounding heights. The campaign became a series of small fights on mountain peaks and mountain ridges. Only small bodies of troops could maneuver, and the raising of guns up steep precipices was extremely difficult. The Italians slowly succeeded in gaining ground, and established a chain of posts around the heights so that often one would see guns and barbed wire intrenchments at a height of more than ten thousand feet among the crevasses of the glaciers. The Alpini performed wonderful feats of physical endurance, but the plains of Lombardy were still safe.
CHAPTER XX
GLORIOUS GALLIPOLI
If ever the true mettle and temper of a people were tried and exemplified in the crucible of battle, that battle was the naval and land engagement embracing Gallipoli and the Dardanelles and the people so tested, the British race. Separated in point of time but united in its general plan, the engagements present a picture of heroism founded upon strategic mistakes; of such perseverance and dogged determination against overwhelming natural and artificial odds as even the pages of supreme British bravery cannot parallel. The immortal charge of the Light Brigade was of a piece with Gallipoli, but it was merely a battle fragment and its glorious record was written in blood within the scope of a comparatively few inspired minutes. In the mine-strewn Dardanelles and upon the sun-baked, blood-drenched rocky slopes of Gallipoli, death always partnered every sailor and soldier. As at Balaklava, virtually everyone knew that some one had blundered, but the army and the navy as one man fought to the bitter end to make the best of a bad bargain, to tear triumph out of impossibilities.
France co-operated with the British in the naval engagement, but the greater sacrifice, the supreme charnel house of the war, the British race reserved for itself. There, the yeomanry of England, the unsung county regiments whose sacrifices and achievements have been neglected in England's generous desire to honor the men from "down under," the Australians and New Zealanders grouped under the imperishable title of the Anzacs—there the Scotch, Welsh and Irish knit in one devoted British Army with the great fighters from the self-governing colonies waged a battle so hopeless and so gallant that the word Gallipoli shall always remind the world how man may triumph over the fear of death; how with nothing but defeat and disaster before them, men may go to their deaths as unconcernedly as in other days they go to their nightly sleep.
On November 5, 1914, Great Britain declared war upon Turkey. Hostilities, however, had preceded the declaration. On November 3d the combined French and British squadrons had bombarded the entrance forts. This was merely intended to draw the fire of the forts and make an estimate of their power. From that time on a blockade was maintained, and on the 13th of December a submarine, commanded by Lieutenant Holbrook, entered the straits and torpedoed the Turkish warship Messoudieh, which was guarding the mine fields.
By the end of January the blockading fleet, through constant reinforcement, had become very strong, and had seized the Island of Tenedos and taken possession of Lemnos, which nominally belonged to Greece, as bases for naval operations. On the 19th of February began the great attack upon the forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles, which attracted the attention of the world for nearly a year.
The expedition against the Dardanelles had been considered with the greatest care, and approved by the naval authorities. That their judgment was correct, however, is another question. The history of naval warfare seems to make very plain that a ship, however powerful, is at a tremendous disadvantage when attacking forts on land. The badly served cannon of Alexandria fell, indeed, before a British fleet, but Gallipoli had been fortified by German engineers, and its guns were the Krupp cannon. The British fleet found itself opposed by unsurmountable obstacles. Looking backward it seems possible, that if at the very start Lord Kitchener had permitted a detachment of troops to accompany the fleet, success might have been attained, but without the army the navy was powerless.
The Peninsula of Gallipoli is a tongue of land about fifty miles long, varying in width from twelve to two or three miles. It is a mass of rocky hills so steep that in many places it is a matter of difficulty to reach their tops. On it are a few villages, but there are no decent roads and little cultivated land. On the southern shore of the Dardanelles conditions are nearly the same. Here, the entrance is a flat and marshy plain, but east of this plain are hills three thousand feet high. The high ground overhangs the sea passage on both sides, and with the exception of narrow bits of beach at their base, presents almost no opportunity for landing.