It made one's blood flow faster and tingle with pride to see the magnificent way our young Australians played the great game of war. Hemmed in and cooped up in the trenches for weary weeks, they had at last been let loose upon the enemy at Lone Pine. Like hounds from the leash, they charged across the bullet-swept area between the contending armies. The Turkish lines spat fire from every loophole, and machine-guns seemed to revel in murderous music. On swept the line, thinned but dauntless. Heroes fell on every side. Enfilading volleys swept across from the side. To us on the right the men seemed to falter for a space; but it was only to hack their way through the maze of barbed wire. Then they scrambled over the sandbags, their last obstacle, and bayoneted the Turks by scores. One wild mêlée on the parapet—thrust, lunge, and parry—then the trenches were ours.
This charge was only one little episode in the long, long struggle of those early days of August. Each time the Turks massed for a charge Colonel Rosenthal's guns tore great rents in their ranks, and wrought havoc in their trenches. But again and again their bomb-throwers—hidden behind the communication trenches—massed and endeavoured to retake the position.
On the left the Australian and New Zealand Division, with whom were our 3rd Light Horse Brigade, made a splendid advance over shrapnel-swept ravines, defended by trenches and machine-guns cunningly hidden in the scrub. They charged the heights like the Highlanders at Darghai, but against a far more formidable foe. They suffered terribly, especially the Light Horsemen, but there was no stopping them.
Hundreds of prisoners were captured, much ammunition, many rifles, and a few machine-guns. The prisoners stated that the Australians' attack was a complete surprise. But a far greater surprise awaited them. At night in the offing there was only seen one hospital ship, though now and then a destroyer sent its searchlight on to the hills. But when the first streaks of dawn-light fell on the Ægean Sea the amazed Turks beheld a vast flotilla, and in futile anger the German staff officers witnessed another landing on Gallipoli. Almost unmolested, a new British force landed at Suvla Bay, for the Turks had hurried all their reinforcements back to stem the onrush of the Australasians. Several warships and a score of destroyers glided into the bay or round the projecting horns, and sent a veritable tornado of shells on to the enemy's position.
A dozen big transports came up and emptied their khaki freight into a hundred barges, pinnaces, launches, and sweepers. The new force landed, formed up, and marched inland against the Turkish right. At first the resistance was feeble, and the enemy was driven back beyond the salt lake towards the hills. More troops were hurried up from Gallipoli, and the fight waxed more strenuous. Nothing in the war has provoked so much keen disappointment and vitriolic criticism as the Suvla Bay business. We who saw the landing, mingled with the British troops and knew how much depended on the success of the venture, are perhaps not the best critics. We do not know all the facts of the case. We think Sir Ian Hamilton's strategy was brilliant. We know the work of the Navy was magnificent. We fear that after the landing, the attack was not pushed home with that vigour and determination which were essential for the success of the operation. Precious time was lost, and while the British hesitated the Turks hurried up reinforcements and once more barred the way to Constantinople. And we had hoped that August would herald the beginning of the end.
The First Infantry Brigade of the Australian Division did big things since landing on Gallipoli—glorious deeds that will be the pride and boast of successive generations of Australians. It was Colonel Maclagan's 3rd Brigade that achieved undying fame by the electric daring of its picturesque landing, but it was the 1st Brigade which, following hot on the heels of the gallant Thirds on that memorable day, swarmed up the heights and drove back at the point of the bayonet the successive swarms of fanatical Turks who tried in vain to drive them into the sea. But how dearly was that victory won! How the ranks of these gallant Sydneysiders were decimated! It was small comfort to us to know that Constantinople reported 120,000 Turkish casualties for the three months after our landing.
The list of senior officers killed was appalling; not one of the original battalion commanders retained his command. Not less tragic was the loss of junior officers. In the Lone Pine attack the 3rd Battalion lost eight officers killed and nine wounded; while the 2nd Battalion lost nine killed and eight wounded. We captured many prisoners, several machine-guns, and many thousands of rounds of ammunition. But the cost to young Australia was so heavy!
Lone Pine Ridge was situated right in front of the centre of the Australians' position, and was strongly held and fortified like a little Gibraltar. The overhead cover was so strong that our shells made little impression on the Turkish trenches. Machine-guns punctuated the line at regular intervals. The open space in front was swept by enfilading fire from the Bloody Angle on the left and the Pine Ridge on the right, while the German gunners behind Gun Ridge had the range to a nicety. A network of barbed wire entanglements provided a nasty obstacle right in front of their trenches, while "posies" for expert snipers and bomb-throwers completed their defence works. To the trained soldier the position looked absolutely impregnable.