CHAPTER 9

The New Offensive

Like the preceding naval attacks, the land offensive, which had commenced in late April and included the landing at Anzac, had failed to obtain its objective. The distasteful option of withdrawal had been quickly discarded as it was still imagined that if only sufficient force were applied the peninsula might yet be taken. Accordingly, the British command decided that more troops were needed to allow a fresh large-scale attack to be mounted. At the ordinary soldiers’ level, it was necessary that a ‘holding on’ mood not be allowed to develop and that the offensive attitude be maintained.

Birdwood believed that success lay in forcing a breakout from the north at Anzac to capture the dominating heights of Chunuk Bair and Hill 971. The commander-in-chief, General Sir Ian Hamilton, whose optimism too often over-rode reality, was convinced of the value of this approach as a vital part of the larger plan to take the peninsula and open the way for the Royal Navy to reach Constantinople. With the promise of further troops, mostly British, he saw a chance to regain the initiative. The problem was that the Anzac area was cramped and hard to supply, and hardly constituted a firm position from which to make a concentrated breakout.

The Sari Bair heights could be attacked from either of two approaches: up from Anzac along the spine of the range, requiring the capture of The Nek, or directly up the seaward slopes of the high hills. Birdwood’s plans called for both these approaches to be used, in particular, a left-hook advance up the valleys and gullies to gain the heights. But a proper base would also be needed for any operations that would follow. And so further landings would also be made a bit further north, along the coast towards Suvla. Landings there would also protect the flank of the attacks on the heights. While the Anzac and Suvla endeavours were linked, each was a distinct operation under separate command. The main breakout efforts from Anzac would also need to be supported by some secondary or diversionary attacks. All of this was set to commence on 6 August, when the moon was in its final quarter.

The men holding the beach and Anzac perimeter became aware that more troops were expected, and a big push likely, when they saw new accommodation terraces being built and water supplies being prepared. By the end of July there was more evidence that something was about to happen. Tom Austin recalled the feeling of excitement: ‘Down on the beaches below could be seen signs of great preparations and we supplied several parties to haul guns up near our position.’¹ Rumours swept the trenches and flourished in the rest areas. By the last week of July Sergeant Cameron believed that the light horse might soon no longer be needed. Optimistically, he wrote: ‘We are likely to go back to our horses as soon as Kitchener’s army arrives. Horses! Oh how we will appreciate them after this rabbit warren.’²

The light horsemen’s hopes that they would be sent back to Egypt were soon dashed. Instead of being released by the incoming troops, the 3rd Light Horse Brigade was destined to play a big role in the forthcoming offensive. One approach to Chunuk Bair was blocked by the Turks at The Nek and by row after row of well-developed and strongly held trenches on Baby 700. The main attack on Chunuk Bair, mostly entrusted to the New Zealanders, would have to come from another direction: up the wild gullies, where it was thought the Turks were few. The most important role given to the Australians, the capture of Hill 971, was entrusted to the 4th Infantry Brigade under Colonel John Monash. Once the New Zealanders were securely on Chunuk Bair the Australian Light Horse would launch a converging action across The Nek.

The 3rd Light Horse Brigade was ordered to attack the Turkish lines facing them. It was felt that the officers and men were already familiar with the sector, and they had not yet been involved in a heavy offensive action. So that the maximum pressure could be applied, there would also be assaults made by Chauvel’s 1st Light Horse Brigade at Quinn’s Post and Pope’s Hill. These actions, set for 7 August, would be preceded by infantry attacks at Lone Pine and German Officers’ Trench. The Lone Pine assault was to be a diversionary attack to draw the Turks’ attention to the southern part of the Turks’ line and would begin on the evening of the 6th. The attack on German Officers’ Trench, set for midnight, was supposed to secure this part of the line and provide protection for the light horsemen’s flank.

The main architect of this scheme was Brigadier General Andrew Skeen, Birdwood’s chief staff officer. He met with Hughes and Antill on 1 August to outline their brigade’s role. Skeen is an important but shadowy figure in the story of the Gallipoli campaign. He had Birdwood’s full confidence and had been involved in all his main planning since the landing in April; until he was evacuated severely ill in September, he was the main hand in most of the staff work. He took no further part in the main theatres of the war but was able to resume a high-level career in the Indian army after the war. Sir Brudenell White, the Australian who replaced him, recalled that on Anzac he had been ‘keen, clean shaven, eager face … and untiring – and at no time anything but the complete optimist’.³

Large numbers of British and Indian troops were now landing and more light horse reinforcements began to arrive on Russell’s Top. Major Tom Redford, writing before the 8th Light Horse had received any orders, noted: ‘We are expecting a big move forward by our side very shortly.’⁴ Miell also knew to expect something and made a wager with Reynell that the regiment would be in Constantinople before Christmas.⁵ Sergeant Cameron’s reaction was more sober: ‘We are nearing the day of great things now … we go forward in the full consciousness of a “duty” clear before us. God grant comfort to those in anxiety and sorrow and give our leaders wisdom.’⁶

After the conference with Skeen, Hughes and Antill made a perfunctory reconnaissance of the enemy’s positions opposite. A fortnight earlier the brigade and regimental commanders had gone out on a destroyer to get a better view of the approaches to Baby 700. The appreciation prepared by the two officers failed to identify the full strength of the Turks’ machine-gun positions, but still they could see the peril of any attack across The Nek. On 2 August Hughes and Antill discussed an outline plan with Godley. In this, and in the discussions with Skeen, both officers expressed their concern about the strength of the enemy facing them. They were reassured that the brigade would be heavily supported, directly and by other diversionary attacks, and that surprise, and the short distance to be crossed, would provide an essential advantage.⁷ A weakness of the plan was that so many aspects relied on the success of others.

The forthcoming breakout was mainly entrusted to the troops of Godley’s division. At the landing he had had the smaller force allocated a secondary role to Major General William Bridges’s 1st Australian Division, but this had now been built up to virtually the size of the corps. Bridges had been killed by a sniper’s bullet a few weeks after the landing and his division, having passed to Harold Walker, a British officer, now had the lesser role to perform.

Many officers found Godley civil and courteous. After a visit to the 8th Light Horse, Lieutenant Colonel White decided that ‘he seems a decent bird’.⁸ But he had none of the bonhomie which, though somewhat contrived, made Birdwood popular with the troops. He was unable to relate to the men on any personal level and made no attempt at it. On the other hand, his reputation as an administrator and trainer had already been firmly established. He was always alert, insisted on high standards of dress and conduct, and was rigid in his application of discipline. Antill, who bore similar authoritarian traits, described him as ‘a forbidding sort of a man, but a good soldier’.⁹

Unlike peacetime exercises, war is a contest with shifting rules, and Godley was unable to see that behaviour which had been appropriate in the past might now be out of place. The military textbooks were no longer keeping pace with innovation and change. Godley failed to allow room for initiative and imagination when receiving and preparing orders, and it is clear that he accepted his instructions from Birdwood without question. Sadly, he lacked the wisdom that Sergeant Cameron prayed would be bestowed on the leaders in whose hands the light horsemen’s lives now lay.

Godley’s officers learned that he did not expect his directions to be questioned. Some months earlier, during exercises in Egypt, he had admonished one of them, saying: ‘I particularly want you to understand that when I order your brigade to come into action in line of batteries, you have got to do it, even if you think it is impossible.’¹⁰ The incident itself is not important, but his words do give an insight into his attitude.

Unfortunately, Godley was quite capable of ordering the impossible, and of expecting it to be done. A bold thrust of a pencil across a map is a lot different from an understrength assault into machine-gun fire, against entrenchments. After the repulse of the big Turkish attack on 19 May, Godley had ordered the New Zealanders to make a counter-attack in daylight across The Nek. They objected, Russell agreed, and the attack was cancelled. The light horse officers were probably aware that among the New Zealanders it was rumoured that Lieutenant Colonel Mackesy, the commanding officer of the Auckland Mounted Rifles, had been relieved of his command and returned to Egypt for having failed to make the attack.¹¹

Reynell, already mentioned in despatches for his part in repulsing the Turks in June, and now acting in command of the 9th Light Horse while Miell was away again in hospital at Lemnos, began to get ready for the upcoming battle. He wrote:

We are going to make a big attack – our casualties are bound to be very heavy indeed as we shall have to cross a confined space under fire of a half circle of Turk trenches. However I have every confidence in our fellows and even if 75% of us are knocked out I believe the other 25% will get there. I am going to have a talk to them and prepare their minds for heavy losses and impress on them the necessity of getting there or dying in the attempt. However I believe they will behave well and do or die anyway. I see big stacks of new stretchers being made just near by our bivouac.¹²

By 4 August he had his instructions and was feeling more assured. Still, the possibility that he could be killed was not far from his mind and he addressed some thoughts to his wife and young son:

Got first definite news about the attack. Our [brigade] is to take the trenches on the neck [sic] with good covering fire after a very heavy and prolonged bombardment and so it should present no difficulties. I am looking forward to the attack very much as I am very hopeful that it may result in a glorious stroke. Goodbye and may it be a consolation to you to realise that I have been some use here and Dickaboo must grow up quick and be a comfort to his Mother and Grandfather.¹³

Other men must have had similar thoughts. Tom Austin recalled: ‘On the 4th we were issued with final orders. Throughout the whole day everyone was busy and as soon as the work was done most of us sat down to pen a word of fare-well home.’¹⁴

Sergeant Pinnock sent a letter to his family trying not to worry them, saying that they might not hear from him for a while. The next one he wrote was from a hospital bed in Egypt. He was able to report that he had survived: ‘When I wrote … I felt convinced that it would be the last letter I would ever write. I could not say anything definite as we were told that any letters referring in any way to us making an advance would be destroyed.’¹⁵

The orders for the brigade’s part in the attack, put together by Hughes and Antill, were lengthier and more detailed than many of those prepared on the peninsula, and one officer even complained about the length of time it took him to copy them down.¹⁶ They set the time of the attack for 4.30 in the early morning of 7 August. Unfortunately, no matter how fully they were written, they could not overcome the impossibility of the task that had been set.

The actual assault was to be undertaken by the 8th and 10th regiments and would be made in four waves of 150 men each; the front was too narrow to allow for any more. The 9th Light Horse would be in reserve. There would also be two companies of the Royal Welch Fusiliers and a battalion of the Cheshire Regiment. Their application was not finalised until the day before the attack. The fusiliers were to share the same peril as the light horsemen by having to launch themselves across Monash Valley to tie the 1st and 3rd Light Horse Brigades’ actions together.

For the venture to succeed it was necessary for the enemy to be taken by surprise, for no-man’s-land to be crossed quickly, the front line captured and the enemy routed, and for the back trenches to be only lightly held. Once the assaulting waves had gone over they would have some protection from artillery and machine-gun fire when they were in the enemy trenches. They would be supported by machine-guns and rifles, while a heavy bombardment from ships and artillery would have ‘softened up’ the enemy by damaging his trenches, causing casualties, and supposedly reducing his will to fight.

It was intended that the first line, drawn entirely from the 8th Regiment, would attack the complex of trenches that extended across The Nek using just bombs and bayonets. The second line would pass through to take the first rows of trenches where they broadened out across the approach of the ridge. The third line – the first from the 10th Light Horse – would pursue the enemy, whom it was imagined would now be in full flight. A fourth line carried shovels and tools and would consolidate the gains.

By any stretch of the imagination, this was an ambitious plan. Some officers put aside their misgivings in the hope that it was audacious enough to succeed. The plan did not take into account the fact that the preliminary shelling by the artillery and the ships’ guns would have removed the vital element of surprise, nor did it acknowledge the stoicism of the Turkish regiment directly opposing the Australians – the same one that had lost heavily in its own attack here a few weeks earlier. Nor could the plan adequately consider the location and strength of the enemy’s machine-guns: it did identify five likely positions, but three of these were beyond the bounds set for the assaulting force. Although the orders were clear that the artillery fire would cease at 4.30 am, when the assault would commence, some of the brigade expected that there would be close artillery support throughout the action. The reliance on bombs and bayonets was unrealistic, although in the event it was not to matter much.

The men were ordered to charge without any rounds in their rifles. Firing while crossing the narrow no-man’s-land was not practical, and it was normal practice – it was, for example, certainly the case at the landing in April – to have magazines charged but no round in the firing chamber. Loading was then a simple action of working the rifle’s bolt. This may have been how the order was meant to be interpreted. In any case, the troops would be armed with little more than a bayonet, and some primitive bombs, when they came to grips with the enemy. Godley was proposing to use the light horsemen in a massed bayonet attack of a kind that had been rendered ineffective by developments in weaponry back at the time of the American Civil War. The dependence on bombs for offensive action on Gallipoli also proved unwise. It was discovered that an operation was brought to a standstill once bombs began being exchanged at close quarters. Against effectively employed modern machine-guns such tactics had no chance.

Antill claimed he was never convinced that the plan was a good one, but it is clear that once he had been given his instructions he was determined to see them carried out. His own written orders to the troop leaders make this clear, although we do not know if these are his own words or those relayed from Godley. He wrote emphatically:

One thing must be clearly understood and appreciated – WE ARE OUT TO STAY – THERE IS NO COMING BACK – the surest means are DASH and DETERMINATION. No time to waste on prisoners – no notice of tricks of the enemy such as ‘cease fire’ and there is no RETIRE. ONCE OUT OF OUR TRENCHES – OUT FOR GOOD and the assault, once for all goes right home.¹⁷

He gave his verbal orders in a similar tone. Lieutenant Wilfred Robinson of the 8th Light Horse later recalled with some resentment that ‘our BM talked volubly about getting over “with rifle butts and pick handles” and chasing the other fellow out’.¹⁸

Although they may have been anxious, most of the men expected the assault to be a success. The brigade’s victory in repulsing the Turkish attack a few weeks earlier had fed their self-confidence. Clearly few reflected on the fact that they would now be taking the place of the unfortunate Turkish infantry who had tried to cross the same space under similar perilous conditions.

A couple of months earlier Trooper Alex Borthwick had expressed his fear that the 8th Light Horse would never see action. His brother, Keith, was an officer in the regiment. Now, as the time for battle approached, he wrote a few words home:

I hope Keith and I pull through all right but if we don’t you will know we have done our little bit. Poor old Mother must not worry too much, and I hope, if we should have the bad luck to get hit today, that Father will console both of you by remembering that we quitted ourselves like men.¹⁹

Because the weather was getting hot the men’s woollen tunic coats had been taken from them a few days earlier, leaving them with only hats or sun helmets, woollen shirts, breeches or shorts, and boots. It had been a stupid idea and it caused great discomfort. Certainly the days were hot, but the evenings were cold, so the troops shivered in the trenches at night. The light horsemen would have to attack in their ‘shirt-sleeve’ order, carrying their ammunition in the infantry webbing pouches that had only recently been issued to replace their leather bandoliers. They would also carry a full water bottle, six biscuits and a field dressing (bandage roll) pinned inside their shirts. Some men were detailed to carry planks or ladders, extra bombs, sandbags, wire-cutters, picks, shovels or periscopes. Trooper Meldrum wrote:

On Thursday 5th we got orders to pack up our spare belongings and get ready. We started by sewing white patches on our shirts; one on the back and on each sleeve. Our bundles were thrown into big heaps on the edge of the cliffs and we were issued with our rations for 48 hours. At 8 O’clock we went round to secret saps and here waited, about 40 yards from the Turks. We sat in our saps and trenches all night and shivered. I can’t say we slept – any rate I didn’t.²⁰

Lieutenant Colonel Miell was able to return to his regiment in time to resume command, and several other men contrived to get back from the hospitals to be with their squadrons. Captain Vernon Piesse of the 10th Regiment was one of these, arriving on the evening before the attack. ‘I’d never have been able to stand up again if I hadn’t,’ he told the others.²¹ There were some who should have been sent away but who hung on to be with their mates. Sergeant Gollan was very ill but he successfully pleaded with the doctor to be allowed to remain.²² Corporal Arthur Tetley was urged by the doctor to go out. Some weeks earlier some shells had burst in front of him, knocking him about, and his nerves were badly affected. But he was devoted to his troop members and insisted on staying.²³

Many of the light horsemen on Pope’s Hill and Russell’s Top watched the fighting over at Lone Pine during the afternoon of 6 August; it was like some overture to their own forthcoming battle. Here, at 5.30 pm, the infantrymen of the 1st Australian Brigade launched a blow that was hoped to draw in the Turks’ reserves and prevent them from reinforcing the places where the next main attacks were to be made. For two hours wave after wave could be seen crossing into the Turkish lines. The noise told the distant onlookers that the fighting was heavy. For the rest of the night the sound of machine-gun bursts and rifle fire continued while, at regular intervals, shells came across exploding on the Turks’ lines beyond The Nek. Sergeant Nugent recalled: ‘We had to sit in trenches all night [and] heard other attacks around us. All night we sat, and the strain was awful. About 2 am I went to sleep and slept for about an hour. About 3 am rum was served out.’²⁴

William McGrath, another of the 8th Light Horse’s sergeants, later wrote:

B Squadron manned [the] trenches … all day and night. Relieved for meals one troop at a time. Major Redford and Mr Henty more serious than other officers and seemed to realise the gravity of operations more than the juniors. All were in good and bright spirits and so confident. Major [Redford] gave me several instructions but did not speak as if he expected the end and gave no instructions re disposal of any of his property. [Sergeant Major] C.H. Cameron was very sober and gave me a letter to post as did several of the men. Apart from that each man either took all his valuables or had them packed in his kit. All kits were stacked at entrance of Todd Road, Broadway. A double issue of rum was given to each troop and as the night was very cold was found most acceptable.²⁵

The success of the infantry at Lone Pine, despite heavy losses, inspired the light horsemen. What they could not yet know was that the further attack at German Officers’ Trench, which was to remove the machine-guns enfilading the light horsemen’s positions, had failed. The movement on Hill 971 was also breaking down.

At 4 am the artillery, which had been firing through the night, began to concentrate on the Turks opposite Russell’s Top. At the same time the warships added their weight, although this contribution has usually been overestimated: most of the gunfire was provided by just one destroyer. The use of an intense artillery shelling as a preliminary to an attack was a tactic in use on the Western Front. However, at Anzac it was not possible to provide the same concentrated barrages used in France and Belgium and, although the shelling at The Nek was ‘intense’ by Gallipoli standards, the damage inflicted on the enemy was later considered to be disappointing. As the moment for the attack neared, the men of the 8th Light Horse in the first line prepared to spring forth.

The Australians’ front trench, from which they would attack, ran in a rough line, north to south, for approximately 150 metres, ending at both sides in cliff edges. Only half of this line was in direct sight of the enemy; the northern half was concealed in dead ground. This hidden line was actually a secret sap which had been made without parapet or parados and was partly overhung by low scrub. On the right the ground was relatively flat, but in front of the secret sap it rose up and this slope provided some protection for the attackers.

For the assault the first line was split into two parts. On the right, in the deep trench and the saps stretching forward from it, about 75 men stood on the firestep or at the entrances to the saps, with a similar number of men of the second line standing behind them. On the left, in the secret sap, there was not room enough for the 150 men of the two waves. The first line had to lie in front of the sap in dead ground, while the second line crouched in the sap behind them.

The first wave was made up of all the available men of Redford’s B Squadron, together with a couple of troops from A Squadron. The troop leaders were Lieutenants Wilson, Marsh, Talbot Woods, the youthful Lieutenant Anderson, and Sergeant Grenfell, and Lieutenants Borthwick and Henty, the last named having recently returned from hospital. The 10th Light Horse was in the support trenches ready to take the place of the departing men once the attack was underway.

The new medical officer of the 8th Light Horse, Captain Francis Beamish, was preparing for a busy morning. He knew that the casualties would be heavy. Observing the troops, he noted that ‘before the time came [they] heaped up pocket books and keepsakes that were to be sent home’.²⁶

The brigade headquarters had already moved from the shelters on the rear cliff edges to a forward dug-out to be in closer touch with the assaulting regiments. Carew Reynell and another officer of the 9th Regiment were detached to marshal and guide the assaulting troops to their positions.

As zero hour approached it became known that the assault on German Officer’s Trench had failed, that Monash’s brigade was nowhere near its objective and that the New Zealanders had made unnecessary halts, leaving them well short of Chunuk Bair and hence not in place to be able to threaten the enemy from the rear. Birdwood could see that things were beginning to slip through his fingers but decided that the plan had to be followed anyway. The light horsemen would be very vulnerable but, if Godley threw them in now, it might make things easier for the New Zealanders and possibly they could still take the hill. In a crucial decision, made in the knowledge that the 3rd Light Horse Brigade would now be virtually unsupported, Birdwood decided to allow their attack to proceed.

The brigade headquarters was connected to the division by telephone. The lines provided the staff with limited communication but not the direct control that would come later with more advanced technology. Antill contacted the division to ask whether he was still to go ahead. ‘The laconic reply,’ he later said, ‘was that the attack must proceed according to plan.’²⁷ Lieutenant Colonel Alexander White was at the headquarters with Dale, the young Duntroon officer who had been made adjutant after Crowl had been killed, when the reply was received. Although he felt very anxious about the situation, White had decided that he would lead his regiment in the attack. Antill later described this moment:

White heard the divisional final order, and in reply to a suggestion that he should best superintend the advance in rear, he said that as he was in charge of the business, he elected to decide his own position. He then shook hands and said goodbye to the brigadier and brigade major.²⁸

White and Dale went up to the front trench and quickly took up their positions. In shirt sleeves and sun helmet, White was almost indistinguishable from the men. It was noticed that ‘he had no coat on and round his neck wore a chain and locket with his young wife and infant baby’s photo’.²⁹ The men were waiting, each with his own thoughts, pressed against the trench sides, gripping their rifles with bayonets fixed, listening for the signal to go. White watched the hands of his watch tick towards ‘zero’.