CHAPTER 44

‘We walked about and marked time’

On 4 May, Corporal George Mitchell of the 10th Battalion, who had spent much of 25 April stranded on 400 Plateau with his men killed and wounded all around him, finally left the line and reached the reserve area. He and the others of the battalion assembled and Mitchell was given charge of 9 Platoon. He wrote in his diary that the roll calls suggested the ‘casualty rate is only about 50 per cent instead of about 80 per cent as I believed at first. The weather lately has been bright and cloudless and cheerfully warm, all in keeping with the harvest of death. The trenches have all been fairly quiet today, the enemy being held perfectly in check.’1

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On the same day General Hamilton received a cable from Kitchener in London: ‘I hope the 5th will see you strong enough to press on to Achi Baba anyway, as delay will allow the Turks to bring up more reinforcements and to make unpleasant preparations for your reception. The Australians and New Zealanders will have had reinforcements from Egypt by then, and … could spare you a good many men for the advance.’² At this stage, Kitchener and Hamilton were still focused on capturing the peninsula with an advance from Helles, while the Anzacs held the line near Gaba Tepe. On 3 May the decision had been taken to send the men of M’Cay’s 2nd Australian Brigade, now below half strength with just over 1800 men, and Johnston’s New Zealand Brigade numbering some 2500 effectives, to Helles to reinforce the British and French. A number of Anzac batteries still in their transports would also be sent. These reinforcements were to take part in an all-out assault to finally capture the village of Krithia and the heights of Achi Baba behind it. The village and hill had been scheduled to be taken on the first day of the landing, but still lay well beyond the British and French lines. Hamilton’s plan to take Achi Baba involved an attack on its western flank by the 29th Division, and on its eastern flank by the French division. The hastily formed Composite Division, which included the two Anzac brigades and two battalions from the Naval Brigade, would act as the reserve.³

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During the early morning hours of 6 May, the Anzac force was shipped down to the tip of the peninsula at Helles. The Anzac batteries had landed a few days earlier and had been assigned to the Commander of the Royal Artillery, 29th Division.4 The men came ashore before first light and, in the pre-dawn darkness, saw the outline of the River Clyde which had been deliberately run aground as a modern version of the Trojan horse on the day of the landing. The plan had misfired and the British troops who charged from the sally ports cut in her hull had been decimated by machine-gun fire — it had been sheer slaughter. Among the Anzacs landing at Helles for the first time were Privates Cecil Malthus and Ted Baigent of the New Zealand Canterbury Battalion. Malthus noted that ‘the country at Helles was in marked contrast to the savage ravines of Anzac. It was quite pretty and open, with fruit trees, olive and mulberry, elms, crops, streams and wells.’⁵ These brigades were not the only reinforcements for the hard-pressed British 29th Division, as the British 42nd Territorial Division from Egypt and the 29th Indian Brigade had also been shipped to Helles. Hamilton’s subordinate, General Aylmer Hunter-Weston, was to command this force of 20,000 men.⁶

Private Ted Baigent, New Zealand Canterbury Infantry Battalion (from Townsend, 1999).

The Turks were well entrenched. Opposite the British 29th Division was the Turkish 9th Division with four battalions and two machine-gun companies in the front line and five battalions in support; opposite the French was the Turkish 7th Division with seven battalions and one machine-gun company in the front-line trenches, with the same number in support. Another seven battalions formed the reserve. This did not bode well for the attacking Commonwealth and French troops as the Turkish force also numbered around 20,000 men.7 To make things worse, ‘Hunter-Bunter’ as his men called Hunter-Weston, would fight this battle using tried and failed tactics — pushing men forward in broad daylight against entrenched troops who were supported by machine-guns, shrapnel and high explosive shells — charging through a flat, featureless no man’s land that, in many cases, stretched over 1000 metres. Hamilton had wanted the assault launched in darkness, but Hunter-Weston was adamant that the attack had to be conducted in daylight so that his brigades did not become lost and fragmented during the advance. Hamilton acquiesced and bade his commander farewell, boarding the luxury liner Arcadian (rented for the duration) to await developments.⁸

Vague orders were issued which stated that the French would capture the Kereves Dere on the eastern flank, while the British would capture Krithia and Achi Baba. The tactical ‘plan’ was simple, unsubtle and imprecise — line up the men at around 11.30 am and push them forward. However, the approach to the Turkish positions was complicated by the north-south oriented gullies which sliced through the peninsula, requiring each force to advance up a spur that was open to enfilade from Turks positioned within the gullies.⁹

Following a 30-minute bombardment as the Australians and New Zealanders were occupying their bivouac behind the lines at Helles, the guns of the navy and land-based batteries that had been shelling the Turkish positions fell silent — it was 11.30 am. The British troops covering the left flank and centre advanced towards the Turkish positions around a kilometre away. The Anzacs heard the sounds of the British infantry as they ‘hopped the bags’ and, within seconds, these men had charged into a torrent of Turkish rifle and machine-gun fire, exploding shrapnel and high explosive shells. They quickly disappeared from view, enveloped in dust and smoke. Within the dusty shroud lay the men of the first wave who had been cut down almost immediately. Despite this, wave after wave went forward. Private Joe Murray of the Naval Brigade recalled, ‘We crawled up more or less line abreast, but the bullets were hitting the sand, spraying us, hitting our packs.’¹⁰ Murray and the others picked themselves up and advanced in a series of dashes. ‘We decided to go a little bit further … Yates was in front and all of a sudden he bent down. He’d been shot in the stomach, maybe the testicles, but he was dancing around like a cat on hot bricks, fell down on the ground … [then] “Bang!” Down altogether, out for the count … Yates was dead, Horton was dead. Only Don [Townsend] and I left.’¹¹

The French, positioned closer to the Turkish lines, now delayed their attack slightly. However, a few minutes later, they too pushed forward with the same result, as recalled by Sergeant D’Arnaud Pomiro who advanced into the Turkish fire just after midday: ‘All of a sudden we became diggers, each one with his entrenching tool hollowing out his trench to defend himself: you’ve got to believe that this doesn’t take long. A few minutes suffice to get shelter from the bullets. While I’m digging the fire continues from both sides. The bullets pass over my head.’12 All along the line, British and French troops were forced to ground. Alongside the wounded and dead, many small pockets of men lay scattered on the spurs well short of the Turkish lines. The Australians and New Zealanders were stunned and watched in silence knowing that it would be their turn soon. All that day they waited anxiously for the order they knew must come, but as darkness approached, most relaxed; it seemed they would not be attacking that day. Lance Corporal Eric Moorhead of the 5th Battalion recalled: ‘The night of Thursday, 6th May was one of the coldest nights I have ever experienced. In vain, we walked about and marked time, one’s circulation seemed to be absolutely stopped.’¹³

Hunter-Weston, apparently not overly concerned about casualties, was determined to launch the very same type of attack the next day — 7 May. His men would again advance into a mass of Turkish fire in an attempt to reach Krithia. The attack was scheduled for 10.00 am.

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Earlier, Colonel Hans Kannengiesser had arrived at Helles to take command of the 9th Division. On his arrival in early May, naval Lieutenant Bolz had reported to him with a landing party of marines, eight machine-guns and 32 men. Kannengiesser wrote later that Bolz was at once sent to the front lines where ‘he did extremely well in spite of the difficult position, the pitch-black night, without knowledge of the country, in the midst of troops whose language he did not know and whose uniform he did not wear. The Turks naturally took the German sailors for the English, and a terrible catastrophe was only just prevented by the lucky arrival and intervention of Major Mühlmann. The original Turkish escort were all gone.’¹⁴ Soon word had spread among the Turkish troops of the new machine-guns in the area which were observed to be doing excellent work in driving enemy troops from the Kereves Dere to the shore. The Turks were now able to occupy the enemy trenches. However, with daylight the enemy warships began to ‘shoot at the Turkish line [and] an attempt to stay forward was equivalent to suicide. They had therefore to withdraw and carefully dig in where they found themselves at dawn.’¹⁵

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Early next morning, 20-year-old Sergeant Leslie Goldring of the 2nd Australian Field Battery wrote in his diary, ‘This country is beautiful, sweet-smelling and thickly cultivated with fruit trees of all descriptions. This perfume is at times masked by the stench of some dead Turk.’16 It is unlikely that it was only dead Turks who occasionally made life unpleasant.

The British and French renewed their attacks. The British advanced in line, heading for the Turkish trenches. Along Krithia Spur, the Turks in Gully Ravine enfiladed the left of the British 88th Brigade, forcing it to retire, while the centre of the line continued to move forward towards a group of fir trees. Initially they managed to push a number of battalions into the isolated ‘woods’ but, at 1.00 pm, the Turks launched a counter-attack against both exposed flanks, forcing the British to retire. Lieutenant George Horridge of the 1/5th Lancashire Fusiliers recalled that, as they advanced, he ‘began to lose control of the platoon because I simply couldn’t see them in the scrub. All I could do was blow my whistle and we would advance with the line in front of us and I hoped that the NCOs were doing their job … The bullets were hissing round, swish, swish, swish, swish. We ran halfway and then we got behind a mound … I’m sorry to say that Collinson, in the last ten yards, got shot through the chest or stomach. We got him in, but he died later.’¹⁷

Later that afternoon the 87th Brigade was thrown in to support its sister brigade and, while some ground was taken, the result was never in doubt and the survivors were forced to retire. It was another shambles — with nothing to show for the mass slaughter of men. Thirty-six-year-old Major Cyprian Brereton of the Canterbury Battalion and his men had watched the British attack: ‘Suddenly a rush of men swept forward across the space, much like the loose rush on a football field when the ball charge ends, but for the bright flashes of the bayonets in the hot sun. It was the 5th Battalion of the Royal Scots charging the coppice.’¹⁸

While the French made some limited advances, these certainly did not justify the sacrifice. Here and there some slight gains had been made by the British, but progress on the whole was negligible. At sunset the British line was ‘practicably unchanged from that of the day before’.¹⁹ The Turks were still entrenched and keen for another round — Hunter-Weston would not disappoint.²⁰

That afternoon Hamilton came ashore to see how the attack was progressing, although he already knew the worst of it. Unbelievably, he agreed to Hunter-Weston’s proposal to launch another assault against the Turkish lines the next day — 8 May. This time the New Zealanders would relieve the battered 88th Brigade that had bled on Krithia Spur for two days. While providing no details to Colonel Johnston commanding the New Zealand Brigade, he sent a warning to his commanders just before midnight on 7 May: ‘The advance will be resumed at 10.30 to-morrow. The New Zealand Brigade will be prepared to move through the 88th Brigade at that hour. 87th Brigade will be left of the advance. 88th Brigade will be in reserve in their present position. The Indian Brigade and Composite Naval Brigade will maintain their present position.’21 It would now be the turn of the New Zealanders to repeat the tragic mistakes of the last few days. They were unaware that their four weak battalions were to attack a position held by at least nine Turkish battalions in broad daylight.²²

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The day of the attack — 8 May — arrived and, with less than an hour until the scheduled assault, little detail of the planned attack had been provided to those who were to command the men in the advance. The Canterbury Battalion was to attack the right, the Wellington Battalion the left, with the Auckland Battalion in the centre. The Otago would follow up in reserve. Major Brereton recalled Lieutenant Colonel Charles Brown, commander of the New Zealand Canterbury Battalion, briefing his company commanders, telling them: ‘“The battalion will attack from the front lines at 10.30 a.m., precisely; 12th Company will lead.” Then he smiled and added, “and I am sorry gentlemen that I cannot give you any further information.” It was indeed a meagre order … we knew northing, not even how far it was to the front line.’²³ Brereton, who commanded the 12th (Nelson) Company, also recalled that he had decided he would ‘attack straight for Krithia, which was in full view. In lines of platoons extending up to ten yards, with 150 yards between platoons. This would give us a chance against the storm of machine gun bullets we were likely to meet when we started.’²⁴ Brereton called up his scouts, including Privates Malthus and Baigent, and told them that the battalion was going to launch an attack on the Turkish lines. As scouts, they were to advance ahead of the main body to provide a screening force. The rest of the battalion would join them somewhere in no man’s land before storming the Turkish trenches. Malthus and Baigent were to leave immediately.

The New Zealand scouts approached their jumping-off trench in the front line. This trench was still manned by the British who provided them a description of their sector, including known Turkish strongpoints. Baigent could not help noticing how weary the British troops were — they had been in the thick of the fighting for the last two days. A British captain came up the line and told them it would be madness to go over during broad daylight as the Turkish trenches were ‘900 yards away and strongly held’ and to reach them meant moving over a flat, grassy field with ‘only daisies and poppies for shelter’.25 But orders were orders and the New Zealanders cautiously moved out to ‘investigate natural cover, spot machine guns, snipers etc. From where we viewed the positions, it looked as though we might reach the foot of Achi Baba without much trouble.’²⁶ The country was relatively clear with scattered pockets of trees; to their left was Krithia, in front was a pine plantation, and to their right was a clear field covered in poppies bisected by a small watercourse. It was this clear field that the battalion was to cross in its attempt to take the village. From their position they found it difficult to distinguish the Turkish trenches, so the small party scampered into a narrow gully to the right and moved towards the Turkish lines. As the men moved they could hear an increase in rifle fire along the whole Turkish front. They climbed out of the gully and continued to crawl towards the Turks. Baigent and the others now encountered ‘plenty of signs of yesterday’s fighting. Dead bodies, equipment etc.’²⁷

By now, Major Brereton and his company from the Canterbury Battalion, along with the rest of the New Zealand Brigade, had been ordered to advance 500 metres in broad daylight towards the British front-line trenches — their jumping-off position. The Turks saw the advance and made it a bloody affair. Brereton later wrote: ‘It was a terrible sight in that clear bright sunshine, men going down like ninepins everywhere, falling with a crash with the speed they were going.’²⁸ Many were bitter about being sent to this position in daylight when they could have been brought up the line in darkness suffering few if any casualties and without providing the Turks plenty of warning of their imminent assault.

No sooner had they reached the British front-line trenches when, all along the line, the sound of officers’ whistles pierced the din of exploding ordinance, signalling the start of the attack. As the men went over the top, the scouts already in no man’s land also stood up and advanced. Baigent recalled that he and Malthus were peppered with rifle fire which kicked up the dirt all around them: ‘We made about 150 yards when Charlie [Malthus’ nickname] got one in the foot and went down, so I followed suit. We stretched out like corpses and I sang out and asked Charlie how badly he was hit. He said a bullet had spoilt his boot and taken some skin off. We were in an uncomfortable position with no cover.’²⁹ Behind them, Corporal Livingstone was charging with the rest of the battalion towards them. ‘If ever there was a hell on earth, Saturday, May 8th was it. The ground was honestly dusty with bullets, we had to double forward 500 yards with machine guns [and] rifle-fire sweeping the line continuously. Three bullets wiped the toes of my boots and passed on.’30 He and the others were soon forced to the ground having moved very little distance from their trenches. Unlike Anzac, the ground here was relatively soft, allowing them to use their bayonets to dig themselves rifle pits as best they could.

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Hamilton soon received word from the French commander, General d’Amade, that his men could make no headway — Krithia had to be taken and the Turks had attacked their exposed western flank. Indeed, the French were late with their attack, allowing the Turks to pour enfilade into the right flank of the New Zealanders. The Wellington Battalion on the left also suffered heavily from Turkish enfilade from Gully Ravine. The Auckland and Canterbury battalions approached Fir Wood, the scene of bitter fighting over the last few days — the British dead and badly wounded still lay in this no man’s land. The nearby Daisy Patch, which had been cultivated just weeks before, was now appropriately covered in red poppies and white daisies. Turks entrenched around Fir Wood poured fire into the New Zealanders attempting to take the Daisy Patch. Those who did not take cover were soon casualties. Private Frank McKenzie of the Auckland Battalion later recalled: ‘Major Dawson was hit in the back. We couldn’t get any further and couldn’t retire. I scratched a little hole in the bushes and lay for nearly six hours and bullets hit everywhere … I lay from 11.00 a.m. till dark, blisters burning the leg upturned below the shorts, parched with thirst, a full water bottle on my hip, dead afraid even to move in case that … bullet came.’³¹ Sergeant Joseph Gasparich of the Auckland Battalion wrote later that, just after being hit in the elbow, ‘I grabbed my arm and my hand felt hot and looked down and there was blood squirting out. I slithered down out of the fire and on the bank at the side was Captain Bartlett, wounded lying in scrub, banged up, and I remember saying to him: “Sir, this is a sheer waste of good men.”’³²

Two companies of the Otago Battalion were now brought up to try to compensate for the casualties already suffered — among them was Major Brereton who recalled years later: ‘I had not gone ten yards before I felt the terrible pain of a bullet through the top of my head and as I fell I could see in imagination, but very vividly, great flames rushing out of my head. It crossed my mind instantly, “Serves you damned well right for ordering men into such a fire.”’³³ It was another shambles — absolutely unnecessary — and the outcome was never in doubt. As Hamilton himself concluded, ‘men rose, fell, ran, rushed on in waves, broke, recoiled, crumbled away and disappeared.’³⁴

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Baigent and Malthus were digging into the dirt with their bayonets seeking shelter from the intense fire. This proved to be a most ‘difficult job when one is hugging the ground and having to appear one is making no movement at all.’35 After a few hours of digging, the two scouts had each produced a hole deep enough to provide some cover for their heads and shoulders. At around 2.00 pm the New Zealand Otago Infantry Battalion launched its attack against the Turkish lines. Baigent saw their advance to his left — men stumbled and fell. Soon the survivors were trying to dig for shelter in the open killing field about halfway across no man’s land. So far Baigent had not seen a single Turk, let alone fired at one. He reached for his rifle, but this attracted a hail of machine-gun fire. Malthus anxiously called out to him asking if he had been hit but he was unscathed. Malthus swore at him for being a damn fool and drawing enemy fire. Within seconds another round of rolling fire began to fly above their heads ‘humming over us like a swarm of bees’. Baigent looked behind him and saw others of his battalion now advancing towards them. ‘It was a rotten sight to see one’s mates rushing forward and the ranks thinning out as one after another they went down. When they came level with Malthus and me they threw themselves down and started to dig in.’³⁶ Baigent was thankful that the Turkish artillery refrained from firing a barrage of shrapnel over them as few would have survived such a deluge unscathed. He now heard a rapid increase in Turkish fire to his right. He turned to see the charge of the 2nd Australian Infantry Brigade against Krithia.

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