Furthermore, the Turks were well led, not only by their German officers, but by the Turkish commanders as well. Frequently they surprised and confounded the allied command in this respect, successfully foiling vital movements by daring and original maneuvers. This was all the more remarkable because it demanded cool thinking at critical moments, not the excited religious fanaticism for which the Turk had been noted. The Turk is an adept in the construction of trenches and their use.
Thus it became apparent to all that if any real success was to be obtained in the Dardanelles campaign the element of surprise must be reintroduced. Sir Ian Hamilton refused to throw away his troops in hopeless frontal attacks against practically impregnable defenses. He called upon Lord Kitchener for reenforcements, at the same time issuing an encouraging bulletin to his troops, telling them that help was coming.
These new troops, which began to arrive at Mudros about the first week of August, 1915, were not to be used for strengthening the two fronts, but were to be employed in an entirely fresh attempt to surprise the Turks at a new point, push inland before the defenders had time to bring up troops, and seize commanding positions in the first great rush. In fact it was a repetition of the attempts made at Achi Baba and Krithia at the original landings, applying the lessons learned at such tremendous cost on those occasions.
Besides the military considerations which made such an attempt desirable, the political situation in the Balkans made an allied success in the Dardanelles highly imperative. The success of the great German drive against the Russians in Poland and Galicia had had a disturbing effect upon at least one of the Balkan neutrals. Bulgaria, it soon became apparent, was preparing to enter the struggle on the side of the Central Powers and Entente diplomats reported to their Governments that nothing short of a smashing victory at the Strait would change the purpose of King Ferdinand. Furthermore, the Entente Powers were disturbed over the attitude of Greece and Rumania. It had been confidently expected that the latter country would enter the struggle on the side of the Entente Powers at the same time that Italy actively entered the struggle. Indeed, the Bank of England had made an advance to Rumania of $25,000,000, although it was expressly understood that the loan was purely a business transaction and had no political import. It was believed that Rumanian sympathy, as a whole, was with the Entente Powers, but it was known that financial, commercial, and dynastic ties with Germany and Austria were important and might at any moment, in favorable circumstances, turn the scales in favor of the Central Powers.
It had become apparent, too, that even Greece had been impressed by the success of the Germans. It was known that King Constantine, with his strong German sympathies, and especially his oft-expressed admiration for the power of the German military machine, was determined at all costs to keep his little kingdom out of the great struggle. Inasmuch as these two countries, Greece and Rumania, had been confidently regarded as belligerents on the side of the Entente Powers, even their neutrality was regarded as a blow to the Allies.
This, then, was the situation that made a dashing stroke in Gallipoli necessary. Sir Ian Hamilton prepared for it with great skill. A point called Suvla Bay, north of the base established by the Australian and New Zealand troops at Anzac Cove, was selected for the point of landing, aiming to cooperate with the force already ashore and assisted by a strong diversion aimed against the Bulair lines.
For this supreme attack, upon which so much was dependent, fresh troops were brought from England—men who had seen nothing of the fighting on any front. Indeed, it is a question for future experts and historians to argue pro and con whether or not the outcome of the attack was not due almost entirely to this use of green troops. How they were depended upon in a crucial operation, how they wavered, and the consequences to the allied operations will be told in the narrative.
Suvla Bay lies between five and six miles from Anzac Cove. It is a wide, shallow indentation forming an almost perfect half circle. Although the landing facilities were not as good as at some other points on the coast of the peninsula, it had the advantage of providing plenty of more or less open country for maneuvering, once the troops were well ashore. This was an element lacking in the case of all the other landings, and one that Sir Ian Hamilton found of vital importance. The nature of the Gallipoli country as a whole made flank attacks almost impossible, but he hoped in the case of the fresh landing to be able to avoid a direct frontal assault.
The new troops, once ashore at Suvla Bay, were to push rapidly across country, skirt Salt Lake, and carry the crest of the Anafarta Hills, a range running to something like 600 feet in height and dominating two important roads and the adjacent country, excepting the all-important peak of Sari Bair.
At the same time the Australian and New Zealand troops were to make a sudden and supreme attack upon Sari Bair itself. It speaks volumes for the confidence which Sir Ian Hamilton had in the fighting qualities of these colonial troops that he set them such a tremendous task. Since the landing at Anzac Cove, the Turks, under the supervision of their German mentors, had fortified every yard of the thousand feet of heights known as Sari Bair. An unprecedented number of machine guns had been brought up and placed in concealed positions from which it was possible to sweep every line of advance, thus powerfully increasing the volume of the infantry and artillery fire. It did not seem possible that an attack, however resolutely and bravely made, could succeed in the face of such a fierce defense.