At 3.30 pm, in the brilliant afternoon sunlight, the attack began. The Gurkhas advanced across the open ground and, despite being heavily opposed, they reached and captured Susak Kuyu, to the north of Hill 60. Simultaneously, the New Zealanders and Australians began their advance. Their jump off positions were almost a quarter of a mile away and involved crossing two small ridges. These had the effect of helping to shield the advance from the eyes of the Turks, resulting in few casualties. As the Australians approached the most exposed position, overlooked by the Turkish redoubt on Hill 100, they advanced at the double, which also reduced casualties. By 3.45 pm, the leading New Zealand elements had crossed the grassy Kaiajik Dere and were making their way up the lower slopes of Hill 60 to capture the first trench. They had a few problems with enfilade fire from Hill 100 when crossing the Kaiajik, which forced them to veer off to the left of the hill, out of the line of fire. With the first trench cleared the New Zealanders continued up the slope and into a Turkish communication trench that led towards the summit.

To the New Zealanders’ right was a steep re-entrant that led from Kaiajik Dere to the summit; this physically separated their attack from the Australians, who were trying to get onto the flat spur to the right. On the corner of the spur an oak tree provided a navigation mark for the Australians, behind which lay their objective. Before this spur was the narrow, grassy valley of Kaiajik Dere where; at its head, marked by Hill 100, the Turks had positioned a machine gun. A few Australians managed to cross this valley but there were heavy casualties, which littered this narrow stretch of grassland. Those that reached the other side then had enormous problems trying to fight their way through the thick scrub; thus far they had not seen a single Turk. Pinned down on both sides of the valley, the Australian assault had nowhere to go.

Newton Wanliss, the historian of the 14/AIF, wrote:

At 3.30 pm, the bombardment ceased and the first wave, consisting of 150 men of the 13th Battalion under Lieutenant Ford, charged. Suffering heavy casualties crossing the Dere, they drew up at the foot of the hill just at the top of the other side of the Dere. A few minutes later came the turn of the 14th Battalion, the second wave of 150 men under Major Dare. A whistle blew, and down the hill they raced like madmen. The Turks were by this time thoroughly aroused and alert and the moment the crest was passed by our men, artillery, machine-guns and rifles vomited death in their faces. Forty per cent became casualties in that short, wild, frenzied charge. Lieutenant Crabbe and Duffield were killed. Major Dare, Lieutenant D. R. Macdermid, and Sergeant Ernie Hill got through unwounded. The survivors joined up with the 13th Battalion men who had stopped at the foot of the hill. It was impossible to complete the attack on the trench without artillery support, so Major Dare (who assumed command of the survivors of both waves) ordered the position to be consolidated. Fortunately, though it was impossible either to advance or retreat, the position was immune from the Turkish frontal fire, being tucked away in the front of the hill. It now became the duty of the third wave of 200 men (consisting of a hundred men each from the 13th and 14th Battalions) to repeat the attack made by the first two waves. It, however, proved impracticable. The Turkish machine-gun fire had now become so hot as to block all advance, and when the third wave attempted to charge it was brought to a standstill, with the exception of Sergeant Bertram Edmonstone and a handful of men, who charged through and survived the deadly fusillade. Many were hit immediately they appeared on the crest and fell straight back into the gully. Some managed a few yards and were then wounded, or had to lie down in the scrub, the machine-gun bullets just grazing them. The fourth wave, consisting of a Hampshire battalion, had a similar experience. Scores were shot down and it, too, failed to support the two leading waves, now isolated, and with no means of communication with their own lines, except over the fearful bullet-swept slope behind.35