HELLES: THE REAL FIGHT FOR
GALLIPOLI

You were never free from something while you were in the Peninsula, no matter where you were: on the earth or in it, on the sea or in it, or in the air. If it wasn’t bullets, it was shells. If it wasn’t shells, it was colic. If it wasn’t fever, it was chill; and often it was both. And the fleas we had always with us.¹

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

THE AFTERMATH OF THE LANDINGS at Helles on 25 April 1915 was a pervading, almost tangible atmosphere of exhaustion among the men of the 29th Division. By their own account they had achieved miracles in getting ashore, yet the Turkish defence had not folded as expected. The capture of Hill 141 was not the spur to an advance on Achi Baba, but rather the precursor to a period of reorganisation and consolidation. The process of landing a whole division with all its goods and chattels across open beaches was also taking far more time than expected – apparently beaches were not ports after all. Major General Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston was also keen to wait for the arrival of the French 1st Brigade (Métropolitaine) before attempting further progress but they did not even begin to land until the evening of 26 April. Among the troops landing at V Beach was Private Cornelius Jean de Bruin of the French Foreign Legion. As was traditional he was serving under an alias – his real name was Dick Cooper. His story illustrates the chaos that was enveloping the Allied forces.

Very soon the Turks started shelling from Fort Chanak. It was my first experience of shellfire and I did not like it very much. We started marching straight away. There was no camping; that night we rested on a hilltop. We had no idea where the enemy was. It was pitch dark and raining in torrents. The 1st Company was lost and Captain Rousseau detailed me, with four or five other men, to go out in different directions to find them and lead them back to the Battalion. I walked for about half an hour through the rain and darkness, stumbling over rocks and dead bodies, and, at last, scrambling up a hill, I saw a dim silhouette at the top. I was glad to see any living human being and went right up to him and spoke in French. With a yell the man dropped his rifle and fled, calling on Allah in Turkish. The best part of it that I was so startled that I did the same thing; that is, I dropped my rifle and ran.²

Private Cornelius Jean de Bruin, Légion Étrangère, 1st Régiment de Marche
d’Afrique, 1st (Métropolitaine) Brigade, 1st Division, CEO

Once ashore the French were assigned the position to the right, next to the Straits. This was a significant move which, while giving the French the traditional position of honour on the right of the line, also condemned them for the rest of the campaign to the very worst of the fire from the Asiatic batteries and the as-yet-unseen horrors of the Kereves Dere Ravine that lay across their path. Adjoining the French was the 29th Division, with the 88th Brigade in the centre, the 87th Brigade on the left and the remnants of the 86th Brigade as reserves. It was only at 16.00 on 27 April that the advance began. This was not the planned bold push towards Achi Baba, merely a general move forward over uncontested ground with the intention of forming a line from just above S Beach diametrically across to Gully Beach. There was some progress, although the left lagged behind and was still some 500 yards from Gully Beach. While the Allies fiddled about at Helles, the Turkish reserves marched purposefully towards the battlefield.

Hunter-Weston planned for greater things on 28 April. Achi Baba was now deemed out of reach, as he was very short of artillery, so instead he decided to perform an ambitious wheeling manoeuvre pivoting on the right flank, which was to firm at Hill 236 (near De Tott’s Battery) while everyone else moved forwards to take up a line stretching up through Krithia to Yazy Tepe a mile to the north. Here they would be facing Achi Baba ready to advance another day. Although his orders were issued at 22.00 on 27 April, the staff work was severely hampered by all the recent casualties. As a result many battalions did not get their orders in sufficient time for them to go through their own command processes before the hour of attack was upon them. The plans were also sketchy in the extreme, taking scant notice of factors such as the state of the assaulting troops, the nature of the terrain, distances to be travelled, length of the line to be occupied, or indeed the dispositions and numbers of the Turks facing them. This was unfortunate, for by now the Turks had not only been reinforced, they had begun to dig in, although at this stage they had dug few new trenches, merely augmented natural cover, using ditches, folds in the ground or old defence works in front of which they had placed a series of advance posts.

The First Battle of Krithia commenced at 08.00 on 28 April. On the right the French were keen to get involved. Although they were meant to be maintaining their position on Hill 236 on which the whole force pivoted, they decided to push forward next to the Straits, moving along the Kereves Spur towards the mouth of the deep Kereves Dere in order to deal with a Turkish defensive position that they rightly considered would enfilade the main advance of the 175th Regiment on their left. This attack failed, so when the main body of the 175th Regiment began moving forwards at 10 a.m. they were vulnerable to fire from the Turkish posts along the Kereves Spur. Nevertheless the French managed an advance of some 1,000 yards towards Kereves Dere.

The problems were mounting for the 29th Division alongside the French. Not only had there been a breakdown in liaison with the French over the timing of the advance, but many of their own battalions had either not registered the requirement for a radical change in direction or mistimed the turn and found themselves advancing without support on either flank. This was further exacerbated by the disruptive effect of three gullies running through their line of approach: Gully Ravine, Krithia Nullah and Achi Baba Nullah. For the most part, once they encountered opposition, any wheeling was forgotten and the ground the Turks occupied became the objective. Affecting everything was the bone-numbing exhaustion of the troops. The advance soon ground to a halt.

The Turkish opposition was also feeling the strain of the last three days. The remnants of the 26th Regiment were in the line alongside the 25th Regiment, who had come up from Serafim Farm. Most were worn out and some elements seem to have fallen back without much resistance as the British approached. Indeed, at one point the Turks were considering a full-scale retreat.

The Regimental Commander gave an order that withdrawal should take place to Soganlidere, but upon this I replied that we should gain time and that the slopes of Achi Baba were important. So he said that we should go together and tell this to the 25th Regimental Commander – and this we did. Just then the 9th Company from the reserve companies arrived. The enemy was then confronted with the 9th and 12th Companies who took up a position to the left, and the remains of the 10th and 11th Companies to the right – and his superior forces were stopped. This situation went on for 3 or 4 hours. Thus, although the second in command of the 10th Company and many of our men were put out of action, the enemy were prevented from taking a commanding bit of ground like the slopes of Achi Baba. Four hours later our left was extended and our line of battle was reinforced by the 19th Regiment of the 7th Division.³

Major Mahmut, 3rd Battalion, 26th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Army

It should be remembered that a tactical retreat was a feasible option, as the ground that lay between Achi Baba and Kilid Bahr was probably even better suited to defence. Yet Major Mahmut was surely right: Achi Baba was a valuable position, overlooking as it did the whole of Cape Helles, and as such it should be surrendered only as a last – and certainly not the first – resort. In the end the Turks held on to it long enough to break the will of the physically shattered troops before them.

As the British and French advance stuttered to a halt, one of the fresh Turkish battalions counter-attacked the French. They began to fall back and as the 88th Brigade conformed – a word that hides a multitude of sins – many of the gains made at such effort were cast away. At the end of the day the front line stretched from Hill 236 straight across to a point about a quarter of a mile short of Y Beach. Casualties were high, the British losing 2,000 and the French around 1,000. The Turkish reserves had arrived and the road to Achi Baba was now firmly closed off; taking Kilid Bahr had always been a fantasy.

By the end of April the Turks had amassed a force of some twenty-one battalions, or 17,000 men, at Helles. According to the Turkish plan this should have been the moment to launch the counter-offensive to peremptorily eject the invaders from the Helles sector. This was indeed ordered by Enver on 30 April, but Liman was well aware that any daytime troop movements would expose his men to potentially damaging fire from the Allied ships that surrounded the tip of Helles. This meant that attacks had to be at night. That same evening the orders were passed on to Colonel von Sodenstern, commanding the Helles sector, for the 9th and 7th Divisions to attack that night. The Turkish tactics were extremely straightforward; they simply charged out of the night at 22.00 on 1 May.

They crept right up to our trenches, they were in thousands, and they made the night hideous with yells and shouting, ‘Allah, Allah!’ We could not help mowing them down. Some of them broke through in a part of our line but they never again got back as they were caught between the two lines of trenches. Some of the best men in the Regiment were killed. When the Turks got to close quarters the devils used hand grenades and you could only recognise our dead by their identity discs. My God, what a sight met us when day broke this morning. The whole ground in front was littered with dead Turks. To my left where the attack was strongest, I think there are at least 500 and there is no chance of burying them as anybody who shows themselves outside is bound to be brought down by one of their snipers.⁴

Sergeant Denis Moriarty, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division

The exhausted British and French troops were hard pressed.

My regiment alone got through 150,000 rounds, and they were only 360 strong. The Turks were simply driven on to the barbed wire in front of the trenches by their German officers, and shot down by the score. At one point they actually got into the trenches, but were driven out by the bayonet. They must have lost thousands. The fighting is of the most desperate kind – very little quarter on either side. The men are absolutely mad to get at them, as they mutilate our wounded when they catch them. For the first three nights I did not have a wink of sleep and actually fell asleep once during the big night attack.⁵

Lieutenant Henry O’Hara, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division

The myth of the omnipresent German officers malevolently controlling the Turkish troops, so common in British veterans’ recollections, is surely nonsense given their very restricted numbers, and indeed relatively high rank. It can probably be explained by the better quality and cut of the uniform of the Turkish officers, which provoked unwarranted assumptions that they were German.

These Turkish counter-attacks were launched with maximum intensity against the French on the right of the line. By this time the Colonial Brigade had come ashore and slotted into the line between the Métropolitaine Brigade and the 29th Division. Here there was a real problem for they had had little time to dig in properly. A night attack by massed screaming Turks was a terrifying ordeal and it is unsurprising that many of them bolted. Groups of Turks pushed on, over-running Zimmerman’s Farm, some even reaching Morto Bay. This was not the result of colonial troops simply failing to keep up to the mark but rather of a vicious, well-executed attack carried out on exhausted men. The Turks got almost as far as threatening Sedd el Bahr, where Lieutenant Henri Feuille was encamped even though his 150-mm guns had still not been disembarked.

Fanatical Turks, good brave soldiers, were killed without mercy by our bayonets, in the hand-to-hand struggle. In the course of the night, they broke through almost to the cypress trees not far from our village. We could hear their shouts, their joyful cries in the certain belief that they were close to victory. We retreated, forced back by their savage efforts and heavy sacrifice of human lives. To cover the area of ground in front of us and above the cypresses, and to give the Turks the impression that the hill was occupied, I fired volleys of rifle fire. None the less, the Senegalese were overwhelmed and fell back in disorder. To show their advance, so that their artillery could fire in support, the Turks lit red flares. Green flares marked out the trenches they had recaptured and they also had white flares, which they lit to illuminate our defeat, hopeful that at any moment, if their all-powerful Allah so wished, we would be thrown without mercy into the sea. The night passed in an agonised anxiety as to the outcome of hand-to-hand fighting in which every life is in doubt. The dawn came at last, lighting up a scene of carnage and the Turks retired to their trenches accompanied by salvos of 75mm shells. We have held the line but the dead and the wounded are legion.⁶

Lieutenant Henri Feuille, 52nd Battery, 30th Regiment, CEO

In the end a motley crew of gunners and hastily scraped-together reserves had managed to halt the Turkish attacks.

At night there was little that the Royal Navy could do to support the French, but once it was daylight again they were perfectly placed to cause devastation to the Turkish troops caught in the open.

Weighed; went up to assist. Could see nothing. Asked French for information. Reply only call for help. Fired blind. Beach officer reported French running, re-embarkation likely. Moved down close in to De Tott’s in case, to cover re-embarkation. 4.30: daylight. Moved up. French advanced. Fired 12-pdr at their shrapnel bursts. Found ourselves 1,500 yards on flank, in view of both sides. Saw Turks retreating. Gave them 6-inch: they went back over brow of hill. Hedge on brow. Moved to see behind hedge. 10 minutes later, 5.15, saw reforming again behind hedge. Saw them signal advance. Let them get well started then let rip. They gave up at once and fell back. Hose-piped trench and waited. 6.25. Another try: got them properly and finished them with 6-inch shrapnel.⁷

Captain Bertram Smith, HMS Vengeance

Helped by the British Navy, the French counter-attacked vigorously on the morning of 2 May, managing to regain the ground they had lost. Alongside them were the 2nd Naval Brigade of the RND who had hitherto been held back in reserve since being put ashore on the night of 29 April. With no detailed knowledge of the situation or indeed where they were, the Hood Battalion began their advance. It was utterly futile and they soon attracted shrapnel fire. With no time to dig in and unsupported on either flank, they were hopelessly exposed and soon had to retreat. As they did so Lieutenant Charles Lister was wounded in somewhat undignified circumstances.

My company being in the second line retired last, and by the time we were moving the whole of our front was being searched with terrible effect. One of the shrapnel burst on the ground about thirty yards behind me and a pellet ricocheted the ground and struck me in the off-buttock. I thought it was a piece of stone at first. I had already been hit by several spent pellets without any effect. One went through coat and shirt and hardly marked my skin; another knocked in my water-bottle. However, this third one found its billet, and I was soon bleeding like a pig and walking indifferent well – I never fell down. It was an irritating moment, as I should have been there to rally our boys after the retirement. They did well, considering the trying circumstances and their relative rawness. I never saw a Turk within shooting distance. My return to the beach was easily accomplished for me on a stretcher, not so easily perhaps for the poor orderlies who had to carry me, and I had a feeling of great peace as I lay on my back and looked at the blue overhead. I should like to get back quick, because I have seen just enough to tantalise. It is rather like love-making in this.⁸

Lieutenant Charles Lister, Hood Battalion, 2nd Naval Brigade, RND

Lister had tried to conceal his wound, but was given away when his trousers filled with blood. He may not have been a professional soldier but he was brave enough. He would be back. Overall the Allied counter-attacks achieved little except more casualties.

On the night of 2 May there was a heavy outbreak of firing all along the line but no Turkish attack. Meanwhile, Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil came up to the initial battery position of the 39th Régiment d’Artillerie in the orchards on the outskirts of Sedd el Bahr village. The guns were blazing away into the dark but Weil took the opportunity to try to get some sleep.

I bedded myself down in a hole where another Lieutenant from our Battery was sleeping the sleep of the just! The moon rose and the gunfire quietened down as if enchanted; I profited from this to get a little sleep. I managed to lean my head on something more or less soft. But I was freezing so I got up to try to get warm. I decided to wait till dawn. The bombardment was intermittent and we didn’t fire for longer and longer periods. The sky began to light up the precise outline of the Asiatic coast, and I saw appearing at my feet the magnificent panorama of the bay, the Sedd el Bahr castle half destroyed by the bombardment, the encampment on the beach, and finally what remained of the village of Sedd el Bahr with its picturesque orchards. But then I had a disagreeable surprise when I noticed that my pillow was simply a corpse!⁹

Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO

On the night of 3 May the Turks launched another strong night attack utilising their newly arrived 15th Division to augment the fast-fading 9th and 7th Divisions. By this time Weil’s guns were ready for action.

In the pitch dark we immediately let go a furious barrage; the fusillade carried on at the same pitch. It was a dreadful uninterrupted racket. We fired without a break all out! I had to yell in the middle of the din to make myself heard. All the neighbouring batteries were firing without respite. The Turkish batteries replied. The Asiatic coast, behind us, sprayed us copiously with shells. We were perpetually dazzled by the flashes so we couldn’t see and we were deafened. Up to 1 a.m. it was a veritable furnace; the gunfire never stopped for a second.¹⁰

Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO

Later when Weil arrived at a forward observation post he got the chance to see what he and the dreaded French 75mm guns had achieved; but he was all too aware of a potentially fatal weakness.

We had massacred the Turks, but we also had a lot of casualties. And I was aware of one terrible fact: we had no more shells left. The artillery park was exhausted; all that remained at the batteries were empty limbers but that was it! If the Turks attacked that night we were doomed.¹¹

Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO

During this tense period, rumours of knavish Turkish tricks spread like wildfire. Everyone knew someone who had seen something untoward; few, if any, had experienced anything themselves, but still the rumours proliferated.

We learnt why the Senegalese had fled. A Captain had given the order to withdraw. The same Captain accompanied by two officers claiming to be English had passed through all the French lines, giving orders everywhere. He passed behind us and ordered us to fire higher and then not to fire at all under the pretext that there was nobody in front of us. We continued to fire stronger than ever; this was towards 5 o’clock in the morning. The three so-called officers were German spies who helped the Turkish advance. They were arrested during the day and will be judged as they deserve.¹²

Sergeant D’Arnaud Pomiro, 3rd Battalion, 175th Regiment, 1st (Métropolitaine) Brigade, 1st Division, CEO

Such stories passed up and down the lines; there was rarely, if ever, any truth in them. In the end the Turkish attacks failed as comprehensively as the previous Allied attempts. The narrow front at Helles restricted the possibility for manoeuvre and raw courage counted for little in the face of modern weapons.

In each case daybreak brought an overwhelming fire from the ships which compelled the Turks to withdraw to their positions. Only a part of the captured machine guns could be carried off. Painful as it was for me, I now had to give orders to abstain from further attacks on the Sedd el Bahr front and to remain on the defensive. But not an inch of ground was to be yielded as the enemy was not far from Achi Baba ridge, his next great objective. I ordered the Turkish troops of the first line to entrench themselves as close to the enemy as possible. A distance of a few paces between the hostile lines would inhibit the fire from the ships which would now equally endanger the troops of both sides.¹³

General Otto Liman von Sanders, Headquarters, Fifth Army

Even as the last of the Turkish night attacks was failing, a small party of Germans arrived carrying precious machine guns donated from the Goeben.

Lieutenant Bolz reported with a landing party of marines, eight machine guns and thirty-two men, a most heartily welcomed support. He was at once sent to the front line, 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 news of the arrival of German machine guns in the front line gave new life to the defenders.¹⁴

Colonel Hans Kannengiesser, Headquarters, 9th Division, Fifth Army

Now the British really would be facing massed Maxim firepower; on a front as narrow as Helles this made a genuine difference. But the failure of the Turkish night attacks led to Colonel von Sodenstern being replaced as the commander of the Helles force (henceforth to be known as the Southern Group) by Brigadier General Weber Pasha. Although its theoretical strength had risen to thirty-one battalions, the excessive casualties suffered in the wild counter-attacks had reduced its effective manpower to just 15,000 rifles. Prompted by Liman, the Turks had finally committed to standing where they were, in front of the village of Krithia, defending every yard and counter-attacking wherever possible.

THE SITUATION AT HELLES was by this time highly unfavourable to the Allies. It was evident that the MEF could not possibly advance without significant reinforcements. The 29th Division was exhausted and near demoralised; the RND, an inexperienced formation further hampered by a lack of the proper artillery element, had been split up. The French 1st Division had suffered severe casualties and had already called for reinforcements. The 2nd Division of the CEO, under the command of General Maurice Bailloud, had been despatched by the French but would not arrive at Helles until 6 May. Hamilton needed a substantial injection of troops to have any chance of reaching Achi Baba. Speed was also vital, for it was evident that every day that passed would allow the Turks to further strengthen their defences. He had already sent for the 29th Indian Brigade from Egypt; now he had to swallow his pride and send for the 42nd Division, which had been earmarked by Kitchener as a possible reinforcement from Egypt. These were inexperienced territorial troops, many of whom had only enlisted on the outbreak of war. One young officer, Lieutenant George Horridge, fretted as to how he might respond to the challenges that lay ahead.

On arrival off Cape Helles in daylight it dawned on one more forcibly that this was it. Everyone wonders what will happen when one actually arrives at the war. Will it be horrible, will one be afraid, will one be able to carry out one’s duty, will one be killed or maimed or perhaps only mildly wounded.¹⁵

Lieutenant George Horridge, 1/5th Lancashire Fusiliers, 125th Brigade, 42nd Division

As only the 125th Brigade could arrive before the next intended assault it was temporarily attached to the 29th Division, as was the 29th Indian Brigade. It was also decided that, as the situation at Anzac appeared to have stabilised, they could afford temporarily to move the New Zealand Brigade and the 2nd Australian Brigade down to Helles to augment the potential assault force for what would become known as the Second Battle of Krithia, beginning on Thursday 6 May.

The plans prepared by Hunter-Weston for this attack were totally unrealistic given the circumstances at Helles. The French would advance to capture Kereves Dere, and then act as a pivot as the British troops wheeled round to take Krithia and Yazi Tepe before attacking Achi Baba. Although some more guns had gone ashore there were still not enough to create a heavy barrage, even when augmented by naval gunfire. In any case, no one had yet been able to locate the Turkish positions accurately and hence this would still be an advance to contact – one of the most difficult battlefield manoeuvres. All would stand or fall depending on French success on the right, advancing between Achi Baba Nullah and the sea. The desultory bombardment began at 10.30 and although the troops were meant to attack at 11.00 they would be some forty minutes late in setting off. Lieutenant Henri Feuille, who was observing for his heavy guns (which had finally been brought ashore on 4 May), had a close view of the attack.

In perfect order our troops shook themselves out and set out to climb up the long spur which separated them from their enemies – No Man’s Land. They advanced as on exercise, our brave troops, no gaps in the ranks, punctuated by flashes of bayonets and blue glint of the rifles reflecting the rays of the mid-day sun. You would think they were on a training ground. But what is there to say? This wall of steel stops, hurls itself at an obstacle that it can’t breach, hesitates, immobile for an instant. Then, all the geometric lines fall apart. Groups running right, left, thrown into confusion. All the while Turkish machine guns, rattling away, tearing at the air, ceaselessly firing into a wall of palpitating flesh.¹⁶

Lieutenant Henri Feuille, 52nd Battery, 30th Regiment, CEO

It was a slaughter, but not all the attacks failed entirely.

Towards midday we reached our designated objective. All of a sudden we become 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; but they don’t scare me at all.¹⁷

Sergeant D’Arnaud Pomiro, 3rd Battalion, 175th Regiment, 1st (Métropolitaine) Brigade, 1st Division, CEO

Meanwhile, to their left, the British began their advance. There was immediate confusion. To the men of the Hood Battalion, who were advancing up the Achi Baba Nullah, the Turks were invisible, but their bullets seemed to be everywhere.

There’s no sign of the French. It was a beautiful morning. We got to a farmhouse, what was left of it, knocked about but serviceable. We were lying alongside the corner of a vineyard, a bush hedge 3 or 4 feet high, a little ditch on the side. We started numbering. There must have been at least 50–60 men there. Then we were told to swing round behind the house and move forward. We found ourselves alongside another hedge of the vineyard. There was a big gap, about 12 feet wide, it looked like the roadway into the farmhouse. We lay there for a little then we were told to bear left, we were at the junction between the French and the British and we tried to keep connection with both flanks. We kept losing so many men we couldn’t do it. We could never locate these snipers. There were no trenches; it was open fighting. We had to rush along the front of the house and go through this gap. Only four people got through, we had to climb over the dead and the wounded. We got about 10 yards in front, and down we went. The bullets were hitting the sand, spraying us; you were spitting it out of your mouth.¹⁸

Ordinary Seaman Joe Murray, Hood Battalion, 2nd Naval Brigade, RND

All along the line the advance staggered to a halt or recoiled before the Turkish line was reached. Overall, with the exception of trivial French gains, the attack was a failure. Hunter-Weston responded by ordering a repeat performance of his master plan on 7 May. This resulted in no advance of any importance and another swathe of casualties. By now it should have been obvious that the French were entering a death trap. As they drew ever nearer to Kereves Dere they found themselves facing a precipitous ravine, while a series of increasingly mature Turkish defence works barred their way as they tried to push along the near-bank.

With hindsight it seems incredible that after two such clear-cut failures another attempt should be ordered. But Hamilton had little choice. He could either attack again or accept defeat. And every day that passed allowed the Turks to improve their defences and move up more reserves. The Allies simply had to try again. Thus a third attack was ordered for 10.30 on 8 May.

This time the New Zealand Brigade was flung into the equation, launching an unsupported attack through the 29th Division positions and along Fir Tree Spur. This attack was carried out in some confusion. Earlier that morning the brigade had been moved forward in preparation, in broad daylight across open ground. Private Cecil Malthus was with the Canterbury Battalion when they left a support trench occupied by the Dublin Fusiliers and the Munsters.

‘New Zealanders prepare to advance!’ Where on earth were the enemy and what were our objectives? Hastily we threw off our packs and piled them in heaps – which were promptly looted by the Irishmen – and it was only in the act of springing over the parapet that we were told of another line of British still lying 100 yards ahead of us. We sprinted the distance all abreast, in fine style, and thanks to our smartness it was only in the last few yards that the enemy woke up and loosed his fire. The tragedy of it was that from that moment he remained awake, and we were left with the certainty, in our next advance, of having to face a living stream of lead.¹⁹

Private Cecil Malthus, Canterbury Battalion, New Zealand Brigade, NZ&A Division, NZEF

The New Zealanders had now reached the British front line occupied by the Worcesters. At 10.30 it was time for them to make their attack. The Wellington Battalion was on the left, the Auckland in the centre and the Canterbury on the right. Private Malthus was with the scouts who went over first.

For 200 yards we sprinted, thinking oddly how beautiful the poppies and daisies were, then from sheer exhaustion we rushed to ground in a slight depression and lay there panting. We had kept about 10 yards apart, but soon the spaces were filled by those of our mates who managed to get so far. Now the storm was let loose, and increased every moment in fury, until a splashing, spurting shower of lead was falling like rain on a pond. Hugging the ground in frantic terror we began to dig blindly with our puny entrenching tools, but soon the four men nearest me were lying, one dead, two with broken legs, and the other badly wounded in the shoulder. A sledgehammer blow on the foot made me turn with a feeling of positive relief that I had met my fate, but it was a mere graze and hardly bled. Another bullet passed through my coat, and a third ripped along two feet of my rifle sling. Then the wounded man on my right got a bullet through the head that ended his troubles. And still without remission the air was full of hissing bullets and screaming shells.²⁰

Private Cecil Malthus, Canterbury Battalion, New Zealand Brigade, NZ&A Division, NZEF

Eventually they managed to dig shallow pits and gained some measure of safety. The New Zealanders had been slaughtered advancing in isolation.

Hamilton then intervened to order a general advance timed for 17.30 that afternoon, as a very last throw of the dice. All along the line units tried to respond but for most it was either physically impossible or they made minor advances that achieved nothing but cost a lot. In a morass of failure the Australian 2nd Brigade, which had been ordered out of reserve, attacked in splendid isolation along the bare slopes of Krithia Spur. The mistakes made during the failed assault of the New Zealanders that morning were repeated: a lack of any coherent planning or organisation; an advance under fire before they had even got to the front line; slaughter as they tried to locate the Turkish front line.

The noise was terrific and shells burst in hundreds over the enemy’s position. Then came the order, ‘Prepare to advance in 10 minutes!’ We were to advance in ‘fighting order’, each man taking a pick or a shovel. Spent bullets began to drop and men were hit before we began to move. The bombardment ceased and we began the mad rush across the open, pelted by rifle and machine gun fire and shrapnel. No formation was kept and our objective appeared to be utterly unknown to officers and men alike.²¹

Lance Corporal Eric Moorhead, 5th (Victoria) Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division, AIF

The Turks were ready for them and on the bare, open spur they presented an easy target.

Well, we charged, but what we charged goodness only knows – I never ran so much in my life. Then the machine guns started. That stopped our charging. We advanced by short rushes to within striking distance, but were too decimated to complete the attack. Captain Heron and I happened to be alongside each other and there was a wretched Turk enfilading us with stray shots. It was dark by this time. Heron and I took turns with the rifle and entrenching tool until Heron got an enfilading bullet over the right eye; I then had to dig for the two of us. We got down to cover without any further mishap. Why the Turks never counter-attacked that night and wiped the lot of us out – God alone knows. Think of it, a little band of men, not more than 300, stuck right out in front of the army with nothing to the right or left.²²

Sergeant Cecil Eades, 7th (Victoria) Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division, AIF

In the end they had been stopped by the Turkish outpost line. Here was a truly futile attack and the casualties suffered were appalling. And any ground gained could have been occupied with minimal losses under the cover of darkness. As Hamilton told Kitchener:

The result of the operation has been failure, as my object remains unachieved. The fortifications and their machine guns were too scientific and too strongly held to be rushed, although I had every available man in today. Our troops have done all that flesh and blood can do against semi-permanent works and they are not able to carry them. More and more munitions will be needed to do so. I fear that this is a very unpalatable conclusion, but I can see no way out of it.²³

General Sir Ian Hamilton, Headquarters, MEF

Next day he followed up with a more confident missive, stressing the value of hammering at the Turks until they gave way and expressing confidence that he could make progress with the addition to his force of two more divisions. With a logic that perhaps only he could have explained, Kitchener replied saying that he would send out just the 52nd Division as a reinforcement; surely a half-cocked response. Trenches and all their devilments had come to Helles. Only a total breakthrough could bring back open warfare. And on the upper slopes of Achi Baba the Turks were watching and waiting for the Allies’ next move.

AFTER THE SECOND BATTLE OF KRITHIA both sides took to trench warfare in earnest. There was one imaginative tactical initiative on the night of 12 May, when the 29th Indian Brigade launched an audacious attack on the Turkish defensive positions that surrounded the old Y Beach landing site. Eschewing a frontal attack the 1/6th Gurkhas instead crept under cover of darkness along the foot of the cliffs, behind the Turkish lines, and then climbed stealthily up the nullahs to surprise the Turks, who withdrew some 500 yards, allowing an advance to secure what would henceforth be known as Gurkha Bluff, just to the north of Y Beach. It had been a magnificent achievement, but the Turks were warned of the possibilities of such seaward outflanking moves and their defences soon reached right down to the waves. Front lines were solidified, support and reserve lines were carved out of the earth and communications trenches snaked between them.

I sometimes think that this war should go down in history as the ‘War of Spades’! Certainly the Dardanelles campaign was fought with that homely garden tool. I once heard a woman name forty-six things she could do with a hairpin. It was a poor soldier that couldn’t do sixty-four with a spade after a month in Gallipoli!²⁴

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

Behind the infantry the artillery were well dug in, tucked as far out of sight as possible of their Turkish opposite numbers perched up on the heights of Achi Baba. The rest camps were no safer nor comfortable than the front lines. They were still under fire and every man found what shelter he could, taking over or digging a grave-like hole in the unyielding ground. Then he would fix in place a waterproof sheet or blanket to provide a little shade and at least the illusion of cover should one of the Turkish shells drop in the vicinity. It was just a matter of luck.

Fortunately for the British and French, the Turks were desperately short of shells. But the British batteries were in the same predicament and were only allowed to fire at obvious targets or during attacks.

Life has been, on the whole, pretty dull here, enlivened only by an occasional fight. Whenever enough ammunition arrives we arrange a battle and push the enemy back a bit. The amount of ground we gain depends entirely on how much ammunition, particularly high explosives, we have to expend. There is no doubt that if we had sufficient to fight for, say, seven days on end at the outside, we should get the Turks on the run and be right through at once.²⁵

Captain Herbert Lush Wilson, Y Battery, 15th Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery

Lush Wilson was in one sense entirely correct: in trench warfare conditions it was almost impossible for infantry to progress without support from the massed power of the guns. Yet at the same time he was misunderstanding the situation at Helles. The absence of shells was not a mysterious or avoidable situation; it was absolutely inevitable, given the munitions crisis that had enveloped the British Empire in 1915. Indeed, even if they had access to unlimited ammunition they would not have had the guns or gunners to fire them. There was never the slightest possibility that this state of affairs could be changed at the behest of Kitchener, Hamilton, Hunter-Weston or Captain Lush Wilson. And of course the reverse argument was equally true: if the Turks had all the ammunition and guns they wanted they too could have swept all before them, but they did not have the artillery resources either. Only the French were properly equipped for modern warfare.

Although artillery was key to dominating the battlefield, another old weapon had been reborn in the desperate fighting that followed the landings. It had become apparent that, as on the Western Front in December 1914, hand grenades were essential for the rough and tumble of close-quarter trench fighting. Yet their use did not form part of the basic training given to the fresh drafts of recruits that had flooded the barracks and depots in England; most of the British soldiers had never seen a grenade, let alone thrown one. Nor indeed had the army authorities yet settled on a standard design for the weapon. The most common bomb in use at Helles was the ‘jam tin’ bomb. This was not some elliptical army term!

We made our bombs or hand grenades out of used jam tins. This contained stones, a piece of gun cotton to explode it, various wads and a circular wooden piece wired to the top of the jam tin as a lid. Through this lid a detonator was inserted. To prime this grenade a piece of fuse about 2 inches long was cut and inserted into the detonator. Theoretically, this was fired by laying a match head against the top of the fuse and rubbing a match box against it. In fact it was invariably fired by a lighted cigarette. Once the fuse was lit the grenade exploded in 7 seconds. So in action one held it for 3 seconds and then threw it. If it was thrown too soon it could be picked up by the enemy and thrown back as sometimes happened.²⁶

Lieutenant George Horridge, 1/5th Lancashire Fusiliers, 125th Brigade, 42nd Division

When new battalions or replacement drafts arrived at Helles they were given an ominous introduction to the battlefield that would make, break or destroy them. During their night approach in small minesweepers or drifters they would have been able to discern the dim outline of Sedd el Bahr fort. Most came ashore passing through the River Clyde, now acting as a jetty. Few were unaware of the awful, recent bloody history of the V Beach landing. Now they were treading where heroes had passed before. But most of them felt tremors to their very souls as they heard the deep boom of the guns, the rattle of the machine guns, the sharp random crack of rifles. Every so often they could see a Very light flare splutter its way across the night sky. As they marched away from V Beach they passed by the cemetery full of the men who had died on 25 April and in the fighting that had followed. To nervous young soldiers it was as if the very gates of hell lay open before them.

Overall the countryside had begun to show the strain of having a whole army corps encamped in it. In late April and early May it had looked so very different.

The flowers were growing in rich profusion – poppies, marigolds, dog daisies, and blue flowers, something like violets. They were all wild and presented one glorious mass of colour, most gorgeous and lovely to behold.²⁷

Private Ridley Sheldon, 1/6th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

Now, in late May, most of the flowers were long gone. In fact vegetation of any sort was becoming rare. It was as if a horde of locusts had passed across the Peninsula. The plants were not the only things to disappear.

The frogs began as soon as it was dark and kept it up for hours, making it impossible to sleep. Rumour had it that the Frenchmen ate the whole lot, but I think that is a slander – it was the drying up of the bogs that caused the frogs to disappear.²⁸

Corporal Thomas Rowatt, Headquarters, Royal Artillery, 29th Division

Helles was fast becoming unrecognisable. The beaches were huge store depots, roads were cut into the sides of cliffs, villages were razed almost to the ground, trees disappeared over night. This was not the moonscape of the Western Front battlefields; there was not enough artillery on either side to scene-shift to that extent. But it was becoming a dull and desolate vista.

You know the pictures in the papers of such and such a place after German occupation? Well, this place was a perfect garden when we first came. Already the ground is cut up into trenches and the horses have stamped the grass away: engineers have put long wooden troughs where the old walls stood before and the trees are torn to pieces to make screens for guns. By the time fresh troops arrive behind us it will be bare as a rock.²⁹

Lieutenant Patrick Duff, 460th Battery, 147th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery

Unfortunately it was not rock but bare earth, which was then stirred up by the coastal winds and the endless marching feet to cover everything with a thick layer of choking dust.

Newcomers to this increasingly bleak environment soon found that to show oneself above ground was to risk sudden death at the hands of the Turkish snipers, who soon gained a fearsome reputation for accuracy.

Johnny arrived in our sector of the trench, bursting with eagerness and curiosity; wouldn’t even wait to divest himself of his full pack but must needs stick his head over the parapet, ‘I must take a look at these Turks!’ Too late to hear the warning cry of one of our chaps, ‘Get down, tha’ silly young bugger, get down!’ Before you could count three his forehead was neatly drilled. These Turkish snipers are terrific.³⁰

Private Charles Watkins, 1/6th Lancashire Fusiliers, 125th Brigade, 42nd Division

Just a moment’s loss of concentration, allowing an inch or two of head to show above the parapet, was enough to end it all. There were few second chances.

There was one of our fellows lying on the floor of the trench, apparently asleep; so thinking he might be trodden on when darkness came on, for there is no twilight out there, I called to him to get up. He took not the slightest notice; upon this, I went to him and pushed him with my foot, but there was no response whatever. Then stooping down, I saw to my horror and dismay that the back of his head had been blown away and his brains lay scattered under him. It was a sickening sight.³¹

Private Ridley Sheldon, 1/6th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

Soon the dead were all around them: lying in No Man’s Land, built into the parapets, dug into the floor of the trench. Second Lieutenant Fred Jones wrote home describing the problem:

I had to dig a dugout for protection from the shells. I had only gone down about three feet when I saw a piece of cloth, which I tried to pull out of the way but I found it was part of a dead Turk who had been buried there. However, there was no time to waste, so my sergeant and I slept on the Turk that night. I felt awfully afraid that first night or two, when the shells were screaming all over and the bullets were ‘pingponging’ all around. But I am quite used to them now. Expect me home safe and sound as soon as we have finished off the Turks. Within the last few hours two Turks’ shells here have burst within 20 yards of me, but I am bullet-proof, you see if I am not!³²

Second Lieutenant Fred Jones, 1/9th Manchester Regiment, 126th Brigade, 42nd Division

His luck ran out just eleven days later. No dramatic scene; Jones died almost unnoticed.

We were standing in Shrapnel Gully from which our trenches branched off. Lieutenant Jones and two other officers were stood at the top talking. Suddenly, Lieutenant Jones fell down. One of the officers said, ‘Have you slipped, Jones?’ but when they looked at him he was dead.³³ They carried him away on a stretcher and buried him in the gully.³⁴

Corporal T. Valentine, 1/9th Manchester Regiment, 126th Brigade, 42nd Division

The snipers made it extraordinarily difficult and dangerous to retrieve and bury many of the corpses, and so they lay there, rapidly decomposing in the summer heat.

One gets used to anything in war, but I think that the acrid, pungent odour of the unburied dead, which gets into your very mouth, down your tortured throat, and seems even to taint and taste your food, is really the worst thing you have to face on active service. Before long you grow quite inured, if not indifferent even, to the sight of the unburied dead. But to the death smell no one can grow used or callous. Rot and decay and the stench of putrefaction are the supreme and the final degradation of our flesh. And the uncontrollable nausea that the smell of the dead too long unburied must cause the living is not, I believe, solely a physical nausea. But, except through one’s nostrils, one grows steeled, if not dense and heartless. You see horrible sights which in peace-time would make your gorge rise uncontainably, and you take them, in the swelter of war, as a matter of course. I have seen men in the trenches making a fire and cooking their bacon close to the corpse of a comrade who had ‘gone west’ not a yard away, not an hour before, and who had shared their last meal with them.³⁵

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

This amazing ability to carry on despite the carnage was not unique to any nation; it simply reflected a battlefield necessity. Men had to become hardened to the horrors that surrounded them or they would go mad. Some hardy, or possibly insensitive souls seemed to do more than take it all in their stride. As an example, what passed for a joke in the French Foreign Legion would certainly have aroused critical comment in most social circles.

One of our greatest needs was cigarettes, and after a battle certain of us used to volunteer to creep out and search the dead Turks for tobacco, of which they seemed to have plenty. One night I found a nice big packet of tobacco in the coat pocket of a dead Turk. On the way back to our lines I rolled myself a cigarette but at the first puff I was nearly sick. God knows how long that Turk had lain out there but the tobacco had become tainted by his decaying body and was putrid. I rolled about twenty cigarettes and distributed them to the men in my company, who were duly grateful – until they tried to smoke them! Our jokes were a bit on the gruesome side, but then so were the conditions in which we were living and dying.³⁶

Private Cornelius Jean de Bruin, Légion Étrangère, 1st Régiment de Marche d’Afrique, 1st (Métropolitaine) Brigade, 1st Division, CEO

The men of the Foreign Legion certainly had the capability to extract the best from their situation.

Along the beach were buried the enemy corpses. They had been hurriedly buried just under the sand and pebbles. The crabs swarmed about them in their hundreds. If you knocked over one of the Turkish boots their hideous living contents came scuttling out – terrifying! The Legionnaires quickly harvested this veritable larder to make delicious bouillabaisse – we certainly didn’t eat it – although they said it was delicious!³⁷

Lieutenant Henri Feuille, 52nd Battery, 30th Regiment, CEO

But not everyone could maintain such sangfroid when surrounded by horrors and under nerve-racking stress. As Captain Mure inspected his men one morning he encountered a distressing case of complete mental collapse.

I saw a chap lying on the ground. He was moaning and whimpering, and seemed to be partly comatose. I asked if he was hit, but no one seemed to know, or to know what was wrong with him. I lugged him up on to his feet, but he just fell down again. I hoisted him up again. He lay down. As fast as I pulled him up, he threw himself or fell back on to the ground. I tried to walk him up and down. I might as well have invited Achi Baba to come and waltz with me. He would lie down and groan and weep, and he would do no other thing. I tried to buck him up, to cheer him to sanity, to goad him to courage. It was no good. So I sent him off to the doctor, who told me, when I asked that afternoon, that the poor fellow was off his head, and probably would not recover.³⁸

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

With the putrefying corpses came the flies. Buzzing around them in swarms, they provided an extra torment for the living. As May passed the weather grew ever hotter and the soldiers’ movements were restricted.

We were invaded by millions of flies. There was no escape from these beastly insects. They swarmed around everywhere. Drinking and eating was a real nightmare and I avoided no matter how hungry I was rice pudding, which was served up frequently, mixed with currants and dehydrated fruit. It was difficult to distinguish currants from flies. They looked alike in this repulsive mixture. Immediately the lid was taken off the dixie the flies would swarm down and settle on the rim in a cluster and many of them would fall into the pudding. The spreading of jam on to a hardtack biscuit was indeed a frustrating exercise. Driven by the pangs of hunger, the hated apricot jam was tolerated of sheer necessity. A concerted effort by at least three of us to transfer the jam from the tin on to the biscuit was necessary, one to open the tin, another to flick away the flies and a third to spread the jam and cover up. The ceilings of our bivouacs, a waterproof sheet, were black with flies crawling over each other and falling on top of one as you tried to rest.³⁹

Gunner Dudley Meneaud-Lissenburg, 97th Battery, 147th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery

The flies were an irritation buzzing around the soldiers’ faces, but even more seriously they were feeding on the liquid faeces that filled the open latrines. No fewer than 500 flies could breed from a single deposit of human excrement and the latrines were consequently fertile breeding grounds. It was estimated by one medical handbook that one female fly could be the originator of some 5,598,720,000,000 descendant adult flies in just six months!⁴⁰ ‘Millions of flies’ was not an exaggeration.

Latrine discipline was regarded – in theory – as paramount and the latrines were meant to be covered over and fly-proof. The army was well aware of the theory and practice of camp sanitation: in the sanitary manuals a multiplicity of carefully drawn diagrams of Heath-Robinson constructions seemed to cover every possible combination of disastrously malfunctioning bodily functions. But this was not a camp, it was a battlefield every inch of which was under fire. At Gallipoli there was not the wood, the ground space, the disinfectants, or the time to cope with the sheer scale of the problem that overwhelmed the sanitary men. With toilet paper a treasured luxury, the loving letters sent from home often met an unfortunate fate. Men were forced to wipe themselves on vegetation and eventually just used their hands and then wiped them clean as best they could in the dirt or on their filthy uniforms. Hygiene became non-existent.

As a result, the flies that landed on Gunner Meneaud-Lissenburg’s food would have been carrying a cocktail of all the infectious agents that made dysentery so widespread. And even as he and his mates were releasing their insides into the crude open trench latrines, there was no respite.

Seated on a pole placed horizontally on, and supported by trestles on either side of and over a deep, narrow trench swarming with flies, surrounded by a low and inadequate screen, could be seen the incumbent armed with a bunch of leaves, or a rolled piece of paper, striving to keep away the flies. Bouncing up and down on the pole, and smacking the leaves against his backside he looked like a jockey riding his hardest to win a race whilst we in the stands cheered lustily.⁴¹

Gunner Dudley Meneaud-Lissenburg, 97th Battery, 147th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery

But dysentery was no joke. Both the amoebic and, even worse, the bacillary varieties of dysentery took a heavy toll of the Allied forces. Men were racked with gripping abdominal pains. Often there was nothing but slimy blood-stained mucus for all their straining efforts and soon their backsides were rendered red raw from their endlessly repeated visits to the latrines. In severe cases they could suffer a prolapsed bowel. Men in the throes of dysentery did not have the time, the strength or the opportunity to make it to the latrines and fouled themselves, further undermining the sense of self-worth that is so vital to maintain morale on active service. There were also water shortages at Helles, making dehydration a curse that would eventually hollow out men from within, reducing them to mere shadows of their former selves. Conventional treatment, which centred on a special diet, was all but impossible at Gallipoli.

Other diseases spread rapidly among the weakened soldiers. Paratyphoid went hand in hand with dysentery, so patients often had both complaints at the same time. The symptoms varied greatly in severity but included a fever, head and stomach aches, retching or vomiting, shivering fits, a severe bronchial cough, diarrhoea, vertigo, deafness, aching limbs, rose spots on the torso and in some cases, perversely, constipation. The sheer number of possible symptoms made diagnosis difficult. The conventional treatment of aspirin and a liquid diet was again fairly irrelevant to conditions on Gallipoli. Malaria was a problem specific to those soldiers from the 29th Division who had contracted the disease during their sojourn in the east and who found themselves suffering feverish relapses. Meanwhile, sandfly fever preyed mainly on the French troops, spread by the bites of a tiny hairy fly that seemed to breed in the cellars and old battlements of their base at Sedd el Bahr fort. In this world of misery, the main symptoms of jaundice, as typified by a yellow staining of the skin and the whites of the eyes, were the least of the soldiers’ worries. In any case jaundice was seen more as a symptom of men suffering from liver complaints or anaemia rather than a specific disease.

Even if they were not actually ill, nearly all the Allied soldiers were reduced to a frenzy of sweaty itching by the attentions of lice. The female louse would lay about sixty whitish pinhead-sized eggs in the fibres of their uniforms, usually in the seams or natural folds. These would hatch in about ten days and the young lice would almost immediately begin to suck blood from their unwilling soldier hosts, soon infesting every hairy part of their bodies. As the lice strolled about their domain they caused excessive itching exacerbated by their bites, which created tiny puncture marks within an area of inflammation. On the Western Front when the troops were out behind the line they could visit delousing centres, where their uniforms would be heat-sterilised or even replaced. This was impossible at Gallipoli. As a result thousands of men spent hours stripped of their shirts and trousers burning down the seams with matches or candles to destroy the eggs nestling there.

In these conditions very few soldiers were in good health and most had one or more of the common complaints. Some were so weakened by their ordeal that their major body functions began to close down, resulting in complaints like ‘soldier’s heart’, which left men breathless at the slightest exertion. The strength of the army was literally being leached away.

EVEN AT SEA THE ALLIES were beginning to suffer. The great pre-dreadnoughts sitting off shore like enormous tethered goats made obvious targets, but until the German U-boats arrived they seemed safe enough. Or at least they did until early on the morning of 13 May, when a Turkish torpedo boat, the Muavenet-i Milliye, crept out and launched an audacious attack on the Goliath which was on duty guarding the right flank of the French position just inside the Straits. On board was the youthful Midshipman Wolstan Weld-Forester.

CRASH! Bang! Cr-r-r-ash! I woke with a start and sitting up in my hammock gazed around to see what had so suddenly roused me. Some of the midshipmen were already standing on the deck in their pyjamas – others, like me, were sitting up half dazed with sleep. A party of ship’s boys crowded up the ladder from the gun-room flat, followed by three officers; one of these, a Sub-Lieutenant, called out: ‘Keep calm and you’ll all be saved!’ Up to that moment it had never dawned upon me that the ship was sinking, and even then I thought it improbable until I noticed that we were already listing to starboard.⁴²

Midshipman Wolstan Weld-Forester, HMS Goliath

Weld-Forester made his way up on to the quarterdeck.

The ship was now heeling about 5 degrees to starboard and I climbed up to the port side. It was nearly pitch-dark. A seaman rushing to help lower the boats charged into me and I turned and swore at him. Gradually a crowd gathered along the port side. ‘Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!’ they yelled; but, as the ship listed more and more, and there was no sign or sound of any approaching vessel, the men’s voices seemed to get a bit hopeless. Inside the ship everything which was not secured was sliding about and bringing up against the bulkheads with a series of crashes. She had heeled over to about twenty degrees, then she stopped and remained steady for a few seconds. In the momentary lull the voice of one of our officers rang out steady and clear as at divisions: ‘Keep calm, men! Be British!’⁴³

Midshipman Wolstan Weld-Forester, HMS Goliath

Again the ship heeled rapidly and, realising she was going down, Weld-Forester decided he would have to jump for it if he was not to be caught up in the ferocious undertow that would be generated when the ship sank.

Raising my arms above my head I sprang well out board and dived. Just before I struck the water my face hit the side of the ship. It was a horrid feeling sliding on my face down the slimy side, and a second later I splashed in with tremendous force, having dived about 30 feet. Just as I was rising to the surface again a heavy body came down on top of me. I fought clear and rose rather breathless and bruised. I swam about 50 yards away, to get clear of the suction when the ship went down. Then, turning round and treading water, I watched her last moments. The noise of crashing furniture and smashing crockery was continuous. Slowly her stern lifted until it was dimly outlined against the deep midnight sky. Slowly her bows slid further and further under until, with a final lurch, she turned completely over and disappeared bottom upwards in a mass of bubbles. She had been our home for nearly 10 months – she was gone – vanished – in less than 4 minutes.⁴⁴

Midshipman Wolstan Weld-Forester, HMS Goliath

After a terrifying battle with the currents that raced through the Straits he was eventually picked up by a naval cutter and taken aboard the Lord Nelson. Three of his fellow young midshipmen had been lost. On hearing the alarms they had rushed to their action stations in the after torpedo room deep down in the bowels of the Goliath. Midshipman Christopher Tennant later heard of their fate.

Perhaps they did not hear the clang of the shutting of the bulkhead hatches and doors, or the bugle sounds of ‘Abandon Ship!’ as she foundered and the lights went out. They were trapped in the torpedo room alone and in the dark. Soon it must have been all so quiet and still as the ship came to rest on the bottom of the sea some 100 feet below. Three days later we heard that one of them, MacLeod, had been picked up dead but with air still in his lungs.⁴⁵ It might, I think, have been just possible to enter the torpedo tube while the outer door was closed and then the inner door could be opened, using the manual controls. As the outer door opened, the water would rush in with tremendous force but perhaps MacLeod could have struggled out. If so, how did they decide who should have the chance? How long did they wait in silence and the dark before the attempt was made?⁴⁶

Midshipman Christopher Tennant, HMS Lord Nelson

In all, some 570 of the total crew of 750 were killed.

This was bad enough, but once the U-21 arrived and sank the Triumph off Anzac on 25 May, the situation became entirely hopeless. Still the old Majestic was left sitting alone and unguarded off W Beach. Two days later, the U-21 carefully manoeuvred into position to launch a pair of torpedoes at 06.45 on 27 May. The U-21 was spotted too late and the twin explosions and sudden cataclysmic inrush of water doomed the Majestic. Aboard the ship was one of the official journalists covering the campaign, Mr Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett.

I was aroused by men rushing by me and someone trod on, or stumbled against, my chest. This awoke me and I called out, ‘What’s the matter?’ A voice replied from somewhere, ‘There’s a torpedo coming!’ I just had time to scramble to my feet when there came a dull heavy explosion about 15 feet forward of the shelter deck on the port side. The hit must have been very low down, as there was no shock from it to be felt on deck. The old Majestic immediately gave a jerk over towards port and remained with a heavy list. Then there came a sound as if the contents of every pantry in the world had fallen at the same moment. I never before heard such a clattering, as everything loose in her tumbled about. You could tell at once she had been mortally wounded somewhere in her vitals and you felt instinctively she would not long stay afloat. The sea was crowded with men swimming about and calling for assistance. I think that many of these old reservists, who formed the majority of the crew, had forgotten how to swim, or else had lost all faith in their own powers.⁴⁷

Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett, Daily Telegraph

Thanks to the swarms of small vessels that rushed in to rescue the crew, only forty-three of the 700 men died.

The arrival of the U-boats recast the balance of forces at Helles. As at Anzac the great ships of war could no longer prowl night and day off the beaches; now they could only appear in special circumstances. Lesser ships – destroyers – would take up much of the work of supporting the troops. Many of the troops ashore felt deserted after the big beasts had gone. This was a not unnatural reaction. For they were almost totally isolated, sitting at the end of a tenuous supply chain open to disruption and disaster every link of the way.

The United Kingdom was some 2,000 miles away and the nearest fully functioning naval base was Alexandria, in Egypt. This undoubtedly possessed everything required from a port, equipped as it was with spacious quays, cranes, lighters, tugboats, plentiful labour and of course capacious storage areas. Yet it was nearly 700 miles from Gallipoli. The advanced base of Mudros on the island of Lemnos was sixty miles from Helles, but it was by no means the complete article. Mudros Bay offered a good natural anchorage, but that was all – a phenomenal amount of work was required to build it up into a military supply base. Piers soon snaked out into the bay, a decent water supply was secured, camps set up and huge stores established with interconnecting roads and light railways. Two large freighters were retained to act as floating supply and ordnance depots, while the liner Aragon acted as headquarters for the multifarious supply and communications staff. Mudros may have been remote but back in the 1840s detailed harbour charts had been prepared by a Royal Navy party under the command of one Captain Corrie, who was commemorated, certainly without his knowledge, as follows by one of his team:

The somewhat fantastic names of the jagged peaks took our fancy. They ran thus: ‘DEN, MAD, EBEIR, ROC’. And then one day some bright lad read them backwards and discovered that they spelt, ‘Corrie be damned!’⁴⁸

Brigadier-General Sir George MacMunn, Headquarters, MEF, Mudros

Even though the British had been there over seventy years before, everything had to be built from scratch. Over the length of the campaign the British and French succeeded in establishing a fully fledged Supply and Horse Transport Depot at Mudros, with all the attendant camps, hospitals and necessary infrastructure. A little further forward, at Imbros, was the Advanced Supply Depot, but there was still fifteen miles of open sea between there and the Peninsula. Once the U-boats had announced their unwelcome arrival in the Aegean there was no possibility of unloading directly from large ships off the beaches, so thousands of tons of stores had to be transhipped at night from Mudros or Lemnos by much smaller 500-ton steamers to V Beach, W Beach and Anzac Cove. It was only with great difficulty and much manpower that the foodstuffs, munitions and plethora of daily stores were unceremoniously deposited on these open beaches.

True there were piers constructed and eventually blockships put in place to try to protect the harbour areas. But these were never ports in any conventional sense. And the piers were ephemeral in the face of the raw power of the sea. There was certainly no safe harbour here in the event of a storm, while manmade destruction was always threatening from the Turkish shells that crashed down in random fashion. Despite this, at Helles huge supply depots were constructed. A teeming anthill of activity held stores and munitions to last the troops for at least a month in case the tenuous supply chain was broken, whether by U-boats, storms at sea, or by the destruction of the flimsy piers. Even when the stores arrived at the beaches they still had to be taken up in stages to the units in the line. The campaign was a logistical nightmare that would make any responsible staff officer despair. As a method of waging warfare it was insanity; but the Allies had left themselves no alternative.

Yet even the finest supply arrangements devised by man could not solve the most intractable logistical problem that faced the troops here. The grievous shortage of artillery shells on the Western Front meant that the Gallipoli sideshow, quite rightly, was starved of these most precious of resources. This can be presented as a mere issue of priorities, but it was in fact a sober recognition that the war on the Western Front, like the naval stand-off in the North Sea, was crucial to the survival of the British Empire. It was here that the war would be won or lost. Until this priority changed the MEF would simply have to make do.

IN LONDON THE WAR COUNCIL had met on 14 May to discuss the progress of the campaign that it had been responsible for initiating. Against a backdrop of bad news from both Gallipoli and the Western Front it was clear that serious decisions would have to be made. Was the campaign to be abandoned? Should massive reinforcements be sent to help Hamilton win through? Or was it better to send moderate reinforcements and rely on steady progress towards the ultimate objective? Kitchener was vehemently against any idea of an evacuation, believing the consequences would be politically disastrous in the Balkans and reduce British prestige across the Islamic world. However, he was equally certain that there were not many more reinforcements to be spared. There was also confusion among the committee members as to exactly how many divisions might be required to achieve success. It was therefore decided to check with Hamilton before coming to a decision. Kitchener cabled:

The War Council would like to know what force you consider would be necessary to carry through the operations upon which you are engaged. You should base this estimate on the supposition that I have adequate forces to be placed at your disposal.⁴⁹

Secretary of State for War Lord Kitchener, War Council

Hamilton responded by asking for three divisions, in addition to the 52nd Division that he had already been promised. However, in the three days it took for him to reply the whole political situation in London changed drastically.

The Liberal government had never been strong. Now, in May 1915, it was crippled by two serious crises that were eventually to bring it down. The first was the shortage of munitions on the Western Front. The terrible casualties there were at least partially attributable to the paucity of the artillery bombardments and the grieving British population was no longer prepared to listen to excuses. The problem was augmented by the resignation of Admiral Sir John Fisher from his position as First Sea Lord. This was predictable: Fisher was too old for the pressures of the job and ground down by its responsibilities. However, he was still adored by the public. On 15 May he finally resigned, citing the drip-drip of new naval reinforcements to the Dardanelles as his reason for going. He accompanied his resignation with leaks to opposition politicians and the press to try to whip up a scandal that would overwhelm Asquith’s government.

Although the government fell, Asquith was able to continue as prime minister by negotiating an agreement with the Conservatives, to form the First Coalition Government on 25 May 1915. Many key figures in the previous government survived but Churchill did not. Fisher’s departure, the failures in the Dardanelles and the general opprobrium felt by the Conservatives, from whom he had defected to join the Liberals in 1904, meant that Churchill’s tenure as First Lord of the Admiralty was terminated. He was reduced to the nominal position of Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, leaving him in effect a Minister without Portfolio and with a much reduced Cabinet status. He was replaced at his beloved Admiralty by the veteran Conservative former prime minister Arthur Balfour. Asquith would have liked to have dispensed with Kitchener’s services as Secretary of State for War, but that was politically impossible in view of his continuing popularity with the public.

The War Council was recast and renamed, significantly, the Dardanelles Committee. This new body consisted of six members of the original War Council, five Conservatives and Kitchener. Both service representatives were dropped. Amidst all this political manoeuvring the Dardanelles Committee would not actually meet until 7 June and so no decisions were made. For the moment Hamilton would have to make do with the 52nd Division.

MAY HAD BEEN A SALUTARY MONTH for the Allies at Helles. Their plans had been stymied at every turn by the Turks and they were now facing a prolonged period of trench warfare without the troops, the artillery, the munitions or the logistical structure to succeed. Their Turkish opponents were well dug in, present in strength, had a superior tactical position and better logistics. Their only weakness was an equally chronic shortage of artillery and munitions. Yet somehow Hamilton and Hunter-Weston managed to convince themselves that a successful general assault could be launched all along the line from the Aegean to the Straits. True the British forces had been augmented slightly. Some badly needed replacement drafts had restocked the depleted ranks of the 29th Division, the Royal Marine Brigade fresh from its detachment to Anzac had been reunited with the rest of the RND, while the arrival of the 126th Brigade had completed the 42nd Division. The 52nd Division was also on its way. Nevertheless the only substantive change since the debacle of 8 May was that the Turks had become a lot stronger. Hamilton favoured waiting for the 52nd Division but Hunter-Weston was conscious that every day that passed strengthened the Turkish defences. General Albert d’Amade had been recalled to France on 15 May but his replacement, General Henri Gouraud, was equally keen to make progress. The commanders were also conscious of increasing impatience from London and Paris for tangible progress. The eventual decision to launch a general attack at Helles on 4 June in what would become the Third Battle of Krithia tactically mirrored the strategic mistakes made at the start of the campaign. Resources have to be concentrated and then deployed where there is a realistic chance of success. The decision not to await the arrival of the 52nd Division was an egregious blunder.

Once the sheer madness of making an assault at all is discounted, the operational plans conceived by Hunter-Weston’s headquarters staff of what was now known as VIII Corps (29th Division, 42nd Division and RND) were by no means stupid. They at least tried, despite the inadequacy of their artillery and ammunition resources, to destroy the enemy defences with a four-hour preliminary bombardment. They even introduced a cunning plan whereby the guns would suspend firing at 11.20 to encourage the Turks to man their positions before the bombardment resumed for another half hour. As a further innovation they unleashed the Rolls Royce armoured cars of the RND to drive along the small roads that led to Krithia. As no one knew what they were capable of their orders were vague. When the infantry went over the top at 12.00 they would advance in two waves, with the intention of taking the first three Turkish lines to a depth of about 800 yards before consolidating ready to resist the inevitable counter-attacks. The French 1st and 2nd Divisions would assault the Haricot Redoubt which barred their progress at Kereves Dere; on their left the RND would launch an attack between Kereves Dere and Achi Baba Nullah; the 42nd Division would advance between Achi Baba Nullah and Krithia Nullah along Krithia Spur; while the 29th Division would push forward between Krithia Nullah and the sea. Facing them in the Helles lines were the 9th and 12th Turkish Divisions, with most of the 7th Division in reserve. As ever, the Turks could bring up reserves as required. The two forces were approximately equal in strength, an equation that promised failure for the attacking forces in trench warfare conditions on any front in the Great War in 1915.

In anticipation of the offensive, great efforts were made to secure jumping-off positions that were within easy striking range – about 200–250 yards – from the Turkish front line. This involved men being sent on local operations designed to straighten the line, sapping forwards by degrees or creeping out at night to dig new trenches right under the noses of the Turks. The night before the assault the troops made their final preparations. On the 42nd Division front, the 127th Brigade (the 1/5th, 1/6th, 1/7th and 1/8th Manchesters) had the dubious honour of leading the attack.

We are sending out parties to cut our wire in front of us to-night, the 3rd, so that we can get through. Every man has 200 rounds in his pouches, ten in rifle magazine and a loose bandolier with 100 rounds making 310 altogether to carry with him. Each man is given a gas mask and two empty sandbags. The latter are for filling if necessary, to strengthen any position that we take, then a number of red screens are issued, myself having one to carry. These we have to fix in the ground at the farthest point of enemy ground gained so that our artillery can see them and so lengthen their range beyond the screens to avoid shelling our men advancing: the screen is a piece of red canvas a yard square nailed between two stakes 4ft long to be driven in the ground. We are busy all night preparing scaling ladders and making steps in the side of the trench ready for going over at noon.⁵⁰

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

To their left the gnarled veterans of the 29th Division felt at least a tinge of hope as they discussed the artillery preparations.

The way the coming bombardment was spoken about gave one the impression that it would be almost impossible for a Turkish trench to be left whole, and as for the men who would be occupying them, they were as good as dead already, according to the whys, wherefores and therefores! We all said we hope so, as it is better for them to do the killing, than us, when they could do it from such a safe distance.⁵¹

Private Daniel Joiner, 1st KOSB, 87th Brigade, 29th Division

Friday 4 June 1915 was a beautiful, almost idyllic summer’s day where every prospect pleased and only man was vile. The bombardment opened at 08.00, concentrating on the main Turkish redoubts, before it became a general barrage of the whole Turkish lines at 11.05. On the right of the line the French artillery pounded the Haricot Redoubt and the Turkish trenches.

In a moment fire blazed up all across the Peninsula. All the batteries opened fire at the same time. I noticed with pleasure that several battleships just arrived from Lemnos at the exact hour to cooperate in the attack – that gave us confidence! For quarter of an hour there was an infernal din, although we had to fire with parsimony. What’s going to happen now? 11.15. An abrupt end to the explosions. Absolute silence! This silence certainly made a great impression on the Turks after our previous similar bombardments, because they guessed we had finished and opened an intense musketry fire to which our troops, following orders, did not reply. 11.30. The bombardment resumed. This time if the Turks understood anything it was that we had a degree of malevolent cunning!⁵²

Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO

The wind was blowing a thick plume of smoke and dust towards the British and French lines, obscuring their view. Colonel Hans Kannengiesser was watching from his vantage point behind the Turkish lines. To him it was an awesome display of gunnery as he watched the British and French shells crashing down on his front line.

From here one saw how accurately the English bombardment had come down on our front line. Crater lay alongside crater. A continual thick cloud of dust, which continuously blew into the air at various points like a volcano in eruption, marked our front line more clearly and accurately than I had ever seen it before. Shrapnel fire coming from the flank pierced the cloud of dust streaming upwards and raked along the trenches. ‘The poor fellows there forward!’ I thought. It was, however, impossible to help them; they must simply endure in their dugouts directly behind the front line, ready to spring out and occupy immediately the trenches, or what was left of the trenches, the moment the artillery fire lifted and the enemy infantry began to storm. We here in the rear received no shells; neither did the batteries around us. The whole artillery might of the enemy lay quite definitely on the front line trenches.⁵³

Colonel Hans Kannengiesser, Headquarters, 9th Division, Fifth Army

So the clock ticked down and the last hours, minutes and seconds of hundreds of men’s lives trickled away. All along the line men were alone with what might be their final thoughts.

We can see through periscopes that their front line is bristling with machine guns. Meanwhile we are issued with extra iron rations, also a triangular piece of polished tin to fix on our backs so that the sun flashing on these shows where we are to the artillery and staff observers in our rear, and enables them to follow our advance and also distinguish us from the Turks who wear uniforms the same colour as ours – only the headwear is different. Nearer and nearer creeps the Zero Hour and everyone is in a nervous state of excitement which shows in various ways. The waiting is a terrible strain, we are given our usual tablespoonful of rum; we have still half an hour to wait for the whistle. Our guns now increase their fire, again the enemy follow suit until there is only 5 minutes to go then our guns lengthen their range to behind and between the Turks’ first and second lines, 3 minutes to go and I whisper a short prayer and feel quite calm now, and many farewells and promises are made to inform each other’s wives or mothers in case anything happens. One minute to go and an order to get ready and the whistle goes, we scramble up and over the top into a withering machine-gun and rifle fire with shrapnel bursting overhead.⁵⁴

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

Finally, the moment had come. On the left of the British line the 29th Indian Brigade stormed forward on the stroke of noon along Gully Spur and up the narrow channel of Gully Ravine. The result was a slaughter, for, whatever the success of the bombardment elsewhere, it had utterly failed to disturb the coherence of the Turkish defences in this sector. Second Lieutenant Reginald Savory was attacking with the 14th Sikhs in near hopeless circumstances.

Those last few minutes before Zero Hour made no deep impression on me, except possibly the familiar feeling of waiting for the pistol before a sprint with a void in the pit of one’s stomach and anxiety as to the result. And, then twelve noon – blow the whistle – scramble over the top – off you go! From that moment, I lost all control of the fighting. The roar of musketry was so intense as to drown all other sound, except for that of the guns. To try to give an order was useless. The nearest man to me was a yard away and even then I could not see him. I was fighting a lone battle. The sooner I could get across No Man’s Land and reach the cover of the enemy’s trenches the better. And then, before I could realise it, I found myself standing on the parapet of a Turkish trench and looking down at a Turk inside it. He seemed an ordinary person. There was none of the ‘Terrible Turk’ about him. He was not even firing, but was leaning against the back of his trench. Yet, if I had given him time, he would have shot me and there were others on either side of him. I jumped in and skewered him to the back of his trench with my bayonet. Poor devil! I can see his grimace to this day.⁵⁵

Second Lieutenant Reginald Savory, 14th Sikhs, 29th Indian Brigade

Shortly afterwards he was knocked out and slightly wounded. When he awoke he found that he was one of the very few surviving officers. His subsequent comments on the battle have a bitter note.

Methods here seem to be based on a theory that all tactics are rot and that the only way to do anything at all is to rush forward bald-headed, minus support, minus reserves, and in the end probably minus a limb or two. We had as our own special task, to advance up a nullah (a thing which one has always learned should never be done until all the ground commanding it is first seized) against the Turks who were in a wired trench at the end, and also on both sides and at the top, and their machine guns took us in front and rear and from practically every side. Needless to say we had no supports whatever! Not a damned thing! ⁵⁶

Second Lieutenant Reginald Savory, 14th Sikhs, 29th Indian Brigade

Alongside them the 88th Brigade, augmented for the occasion by battalions from the 86th and 87th Brigades, was attacking along Fir Tree Spur and they too encountered fierce resistance. The 1st KOSB and 4th Worcesters suffered severe casualties but they managed to gain a good deal of ground. On reaching the Turkish front line they charged on for the second line. This line had not been under bombardment; the British had neither the guns nor the shells for a deep bombardment.

Turks were jumping the parados and running for it. Others were throwing away their arms and surrendering. Led by Captain Ogilvy we all gave chase, however as the Turks had discarded their equipment and arms and were trying to beat the world’s record in sprinting, they soon widened the gap. After getting to the fourth trench Ogilvy called a halt, as we had lost our first wind. However the Turks were fleeing in all directions, the inclination to follow so strong that hardly had we got into the trench, and told off escorts for the prisoners, than we were off again. There was no more resistance, the trenches were only occupied by dead or wounded.⁵⁷

Private Daniel Joiner, 1st KOSB, 87th Brigade, 29th Division

It had been a fantastic performance against the odds, but could they consolidate and hold their gains when the Turks reorganised and brought up their reserves? Behind the Borderers were the 1/5th Royal Scots. Captain Albert Mure had a first-class view of the pathetic performance of the RND armoured cars as they were thwarted by a combination of trenches and Turkish road blocks.

An armoured car came with them, spitting and puffing and lumbering along. Nothing so ugly or so awkward ever was seen outside of a zoo! The very amateur bridge that the Engineers had tossed up for them was just beside my phone. The car made for it. She got on to the planks all right; then her off hind-wheel slipped over the side, and down she came on to the axle, and pretty well on to my head. Nothing could be done, so the naval officer in charge and the gunner climbed out. In getting out the naval petty officer was seriously wounded.⁵⁸

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

Armoured warfare seemed a very long way in the future. Soon the ditched armoured car attracted the shell fire of the Turks and Mure had a remarkable escape.

I had just written out two messages and given them to two orderlies. I felt restless, and got up, turned about aimlessly, and moved away some 10 yards. That restlessness saved my life. At that moment a shell crashed into the trench and exploded precisely where I had been sitting. Frankly, it made me feel peculiar. I remember that I stumbled a bit as I walked on, thinking that if I had stayed where I was, or gone the other way, I should, by now, have been blown to little bits. I finished what I wanted to do and went back to the trench. I met one of my orderlies, who, fortunately for him, had left immediately with the first message I had written. He had bits of shrapnel in his jaw, in his elbow, and in his back. I bound him up and packed him off. I got back into the trench, and saw what I had not seen before, for the smoke had cleared now. My other orderly lay dead with my message still in his hand. His body and his head lay 4 or 5 feet apart. Two of my signallers were killed also, and mutilated so horribly that to describe their condition would be inexcusable. I stood for a moment and gazed at the wreckage: wreck of trench, wreck of phone, wreck of men, and then I sat dully down on the mud floor of the trench.⁵⁹

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

To the right of the 29th Division was the 42nd Division. The Lancashire territorials had been rank amateurs when they had landed at Helles just four weeks before. Frightened by the noise of battle, afraid of the dark, terrified by the sight of mangled human remains, unable to perform even the simplest of military tasks, they had been all but useless. But they had matured in the trenches, learnt to control themselves under fire, and now they were ready for battle. The attack was carried out by the Manchesters of the 127th Brigade.

I shall never forget the moment when we had to leave the shelter of the trenches. It is indeed terrible, the first step you take – right in the face of the most deadly fire, and to realise that any moment you may be shot down; but if you are not hit, then you seem to gather courage. And when you see on either side of you men like yourself, it inspires you with a determination to press forward. Away we went over the parapet with fixed bayonets – one line of us like the wind. But it was absolute murder, for men fell like corn before the sickle. I had not gone more than 20 yards beyond our first trench, about 60 yards in all, when I was shot through the left leg about 5 inches above the knee. At once I realised what had happened, for it seemed as though someone had taken a red-hot gimlet and suddenly thrust it right through my leg. I dropped immediately and could not go any further.⁶⁰

Private Ridley Sheldon, 1/6th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

Private Jack Gatley was more fortunate and made it through to leap down into the Turkish front line, where he became caught up in hand-to-hand battle.

It was a shambles and the slaughter was terrible on each side, and here we were at a disadvantage as the enemy were using bombs with deadly effect and we were being blown to pieces. This drove us into a frenzy of rage and we went at them like madmen, they nearly drove us out as they were three to one, but we rallied and at last we drove them out and had captured the trench and many prisoners as they were scrambling out. I caught hold of one that was carrying a flag on a long stick, he was almost over when I jumped at him and grabbed the end of the stick and tried to pull him down, suddenly he broke away and dropping his flag levelled his rifle straight at my face, I thought I was done for but I got the first shot in and he fired as he fell with the flag under him, I took the flag as a memento. It was a near thing for me.⁶¹

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

They would now hold this trench while the other two companies followed up the retreating Turks.

The 127th Brigade managed to break through to a depth of between 1,000 and 1,200 yards, thereby taking the last organised Turkish trenches visible before the outskirts of the Krithia village in front of them. It was a considerable achievement that marked the coming of age of the 42nd Division.

Next in line were the RND, who launched the 2nd Naval Brigade into the attack. This previously ramshackle formation had gained an impressive variety of military skills over the past month, but the blast of fire after the temporary suspension of the bombardment had let them know that the Turks were well and truly ready for them. Still, over the top they went.

Off we go and up we went over the ladder. The moment we started to leave the trench at this traverse, 10–12 feet long, where we were, there were men falling back into the trench or on the parapet. There was dead all over the place. My Platoon Commander got through, I followed him up there. Parsons had already been killed. We got into dead ground. The Petty Officer said, ‘Well, come on, lad! C’mon!’ We moved again and then lay down to get a breather. He was an old reservist, his bald head glittering in the sun – he’d lost his helmet. He was up on the trench with his rifle and bayonet, ‘C’mon! C’mon!’ Around his head he’d got a white handkerchief and blood pouring down his face just like the pictures in the London Illustrated. He was bleeding dreadfully. I wanted to keep up with him but he was now 20 yards ahead of me. I got to the trench and in I go – it was 10 feet deep! There was one or two dead, nobody alive.⁶²

Ordinary Seaman Joe Murray, Hood Battalion, 2nd Naval Brigade, RND

They had succeeded in taking three trenches but had suffered severe casualties. And their attack was faltering. Sustained success would depend on the rapid arrival of reserve troops.

On the far right of the line the French were faced by the Haricot Redoubt that still barred their progress along the western bank of Kereves Dere. The Turks had retaliated in devastating fashion with their own artillery. And then the dreaded rattle of the machine guns and massed small arms tore into the French poilus.

They weren’t able to advance a step. I was informed by telephone: on the English side they had made a little progress towards Krithia, but on our front it was a disaster. Our poor foot soldiers were slaughtered in the middle of the Turkish fortifications put up just the night before as if they had guessed our intentions. The enemy had benefited from the pause in our fire, and the moment of hesitation by our infantry (who were wondering if it had really finished) to reoccupy the front lines, that were hardly damaged and to get in place all their machine guns. The result was that our poor poilus, caught up in the barbed wire and chevaux de frise, were slowed in their tracks and then literally mowed down by the machine guns.⁶³

Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO

The French assault had been a disaster. It was not their fault: it was almost impossible for them to make progress against well-dug-in Turks, covered on one flank by the chasm of Kereves Dere. The consequences for the British would be dire. As the French attack broke down, the RND began to experience enfilading fire from their right flank. The Collingwood Battalion was slaughtered as they advanced in support of the Hood attack at 12.15, losing hundreds before they even reached the original British front line.

The battle now appeared to lie in the balance. Hunter-Weston and Gouraud had a choice whether to use their last reserves to support the success of the 42nd Division in the centre or order a renewed effort by the French and the 29th Indian Brigade. Historical commentators present this as a stark choice between supporting success or failure, with victory the reward for the right option, but this view ignores the Turkish position. For the Turks had plentiful reserves and the faltering Allied attack threatened little that firm resistance and counter-attacks could not contain. Hunter-Weston and Gouraud chose to try again on the flanks. A renewed attack was ordered. The French reserves were deployed on the right alongside the RND, while the reinforced 29th Indian Brigade were to try again on the left. In the event, almost nothing happened as the French were simply unable to mount another attack in the dreadful circumstances that still prevailed in front of the Haricot. The gallant efforts of the reinforced 29th Indian Brigade only added to the slaughter. Nothing had changed since the attack scant hours before.

The consequences of the French failure were now working their way across the battlefield as the Turks viciously counter-attacked, pressing into the right flank of the RND who had little chance to consolidate or dig vital communication trenches back across No Man’s Land. Sometime after 12.30 an ignominious retreat to their old front line began. It was a process fraught with danger. Ordinary Seaman Joe Murray was in a fairly dazed state in the Turkish second line.

I remember seeing two officers away to my left – Denis Browne was one – taking about fifty men going forward. We went forward about half a dozen of us to a bit of a ditch – that was considered to be the third trench. All of a sudden the right flank started retiring, the Anson Battalion. We were forced to retire, hopped back, jumped over the second trench; then we scampered back to his first trench. I thought, ‘Well now, if we can stop here we can hold them here!’ I kept on turning round and firing, but there wasn’t much opposition from the front, I couldn’t understand why we were retiring, we weren’t being pressed at all. We were almost near his first trench. I was out of puff, so tired and I thought, ‘One more trot and I shall be in the trench!’ But when I got there it was full of Turks! So instead of stopping over the trench I leapt over the top and I was helped over by a bayonet stuck right in the posterior – right in the nick!!!! I went falling right in front of the trench into a shell hole, lying flat in there.⁶⁴

Ordinary Seaman Joe Murray, Hood Battalion, 2nd Naval Brigade, RND

Murray had to stay there for hours with a Turk, oblivious to his presence, firing a rifle through a loophole just above his head. He only managed to get back to the British front line when night fell. With the chastened men of the RND back in their jumping-off trenches the pressure shifted to the right flank of the 42nd Division. Private Jack Gatley was busy in the old Turkish front line when the Turks began to push along the trench.

We are consolidating our position and securing dugouts and take many more prisoners that are hiding in them. The whole trench is a shambles with dead and dying, limbless trunks are lying all over the place and the whole bottom of the trench is running with blood which we have to move about in, arms, legs and heads are strewn about and being added to every minute by shells from the front and bombs from the right. We searched for the dead and wounded and took all bombs from their haversacks, and used them on the right. Wounded were lying about groaning in pain until taken away to the dressing station.⁶⁵

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

If they had given way then his comrades who had advanced into the Turkish second and third lines would have been totally cut off. The old No Man’s Land lay like an open wasteland behind them, preventing reinforcement.

We are parched with thirst, the position here is terrible, what few men are left are spaced out at some distance apart with less chance of being hit. Lieutenant Hamilton and a few men started to fill all the spare sandbags we carried and with these built up the gap making a barrier between us, but a lot of men were lost in doing so. It eased the strain for a while. But they started lobbing bombs over amongst us and did terrible damage as we had no more to reply with, so we caught some bombs as they came over and returned them. A fellow named Rawlinson was hit by a bomb, it exploded under his chin and blew the whole of his face off from ear to ear and it hung down on his chest, the poor chap walked about groping his way and making an awful groaning noise, until someone placed an empty sandbag over his head and lead him away, he died before night, it is a sight that lives in my mind still.⁶⁶

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

The Manchesters just about managed to hold on and the Turks never got past their crude ramshackle barricade. During the night the shortage of men meant that the survivors had no choice but to fall back. Among them was Private Jack Morten.

We then got the order to retire to the first trench we had taken, which was about 500 yards to the rear, so we started off at the double. It seemed an awfully long 500 yards, as after advancing about 1,000 yards we were pretty jiggered. On I ran with the bullets whistling past and men on either side of me dropping down shot. I fell twice from sheer exhaustion and finished up walking. At last I reached the trench and dived over the parapet like a shot rabbit, none the worse, thank God, but absolutely jiggered.⁶⁷

Private Jack Morten, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

It was on 5 June that it became apparent that the Allies were no longer directing the course of the Third Battle of Krithia. The Turks were fully in control and at dawn launched a series of vigorous counter-attacks that not only threatened the remaining gains of the day before, but sought to undermine the entire Allied front.

There was a heavy sea mist hanging over everywhere and it was not properly light yet, they were almost on us before we realised they were coming. We poured a continuous rapid fire into the Turks, we had only two machine guns in our line and these joined in, we simply mowed the Turks down in front but they still came on yelling, ‘Allah! Allah!’ They were trying to drive us out and so link up with the Turks on our right and recapture all their own line back. We kept up rapid fire all the while they advanced on us and our rifle barrels are almost red hot and burnt our hands as we gripped them. Still they came on, and nearer, until it looked as though we should be swamped out by overwhelming numbers, still we kept up the fire and our slightly wounded men replenished our stacks of ammunition as we used them up. Then our artillery took a hand and set up a barrage on the advancing enemy with shrapnel and did terrible havoc. This was the turning point, they retreated and were chased by rapid fire.⁶⁸

Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment, 127th Brigade, 42nd Division

The aftermath of battle proved too much for Captain Mure of the 1/5th Royal Scots. Suffering from a form of shell shock, he could not control either his body or his nerves.

I felt that there was something very wrong with me. I couldn’t quite diagnose what it was. My spine seemed to be misplaced, and to be made of glue rather than of bone; yet I could walk all right. I went back at about half-past seven, and started my usual evening’s work. But I was listless. I could neither rest nor really work. Nothing interested me – nothing! I gave it up and lay down, but I couldn’t sleep. At half-past seven I struggled down to the gully for breakfast. It was torture to walk. It was torture to think. It was double torture to be. I remember chatting quite cheerfully with someone, I cannot recall with whom, as I began to eat, and then something suddenly snapped, and I collapsed into a sort of maudlin, weeping condition. I was all in. I felt that I was going silly, and that I must have a rest, if only for one day. I had been under fire for forty-two days.⁶⁹

Captain Albert Mure, 1/5th Royal Scots, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

In a daze of confusion Mure was evacuated from W Beach, at least for the moment a broken man; one among many.

Over the next two days there was some desperate fighting. The Turkish counter-attacks were so vigorous that at times they threatened to break through themselves, there were so few Allied reserves at hand to plug gaps in the line. The desperation can be judged by the award of the VC to the 18-year-old Second Lieutenant Dallas Moor who, despite his youth, was acting commanding officer of the 2nd Hampshires when, on the morning of 6 June, there was a dangerous outbreak of panic in the salient left by the partial retirement of the 42nd Division. Terrified of being cut off, the troops occupying the front line trench (known as H12) ran back, promoting equal chaos in the second line (H11) whose garrison also fell back in terror. The Turks were threatening a complete breakthrough. Moor rushed across and stemmed the retreat by the abrupt action of shooting up to four of the fleeing soldiers. He managed not only to stop the rout, but to rally his men and lead them forward to retake H11, although still leaving H12 in Turkish hands. This level of chaos and panic was not an isolated incident as the Turks pushed down the gullies, seeking to penetrate as far as they could out of sight as they probed the weak points in the line. Key to breaking up the Turkish attacks was the artillery. Australian Gunner Ralph Doughty of the 2nd Battery, 1st Field Artillery Brigade was among those who played a vital part in keeping back the rampaging Turks on 6 June.

Very rowdy morning. Got action before breakfast and kept a warm fire for an hour. Immediately afterwards got to it hot and strong. Our gun was detailed to keep reinforcements from getting to the firing line, via a small nullah. And it did. We just waited for them to come over the far crest and they got it. We had them on toast alright. Couldn’t advance or retreat and our guns cut off flanking movements by spraying each side with shrapnel. The only thing for them to do was to take cover in a bit of light scrub which they did and we got on to that scrub and searched every inch of it for two solid hours. I’ve just been to the observation station and had a look at it with the glasses. Not a man came out of it alive. The ground is packed thickly with them. I am as deaf as a mule in the right ear and both hands burnt a bit. We’re having another go in a few minutes.⁷⁰

Gunner Ralph Doughty, 2nd Battery, 1st Field Artillery Brigade, AIF

After the main battle petered out there was a series of minor attacks to straighten the line or to counter the equivalent activities of the Turks. Thus it was that Second Lieutenant Bertie Bradshaw found himself faced with an acute dilemma on 10 June.

The Company Commander asked Platoon commanders for a list of subalterns and men from Platoons who would volunteer for an attack on a Turkish sap which is getting perilously near ‘B’ Company’s lines. It means a DCM for men who get through. It is hardly fair to ask for volunteers, work of this [kind] should be done by rota. I have volunteered of course, and I expect the rest of the subalterns will do also. Out here one does everything that comes one’s way. Trusting in God.⁷¹

Second Lieutenant Bertie Bradshaw, 1st Border Regiment, 87th Brigade, 29th Division

Led to his fate by his sense of duty, poor Bradshaw was killed in the attack that followed.⁷²

THE BRITISH AND FRENCH OFFENSIVE had ground to a halt, not with them positioned astride Achi Baba poised for an untroubled advance on Kilid Bahr, but clinging on to their meagre gains and with no hope of a successful advance. A French staff officer realised the gravity of their situation.

Theoretically our situation is untenable. I’d say that if we were on peacetime manoeuvres the exercise umpires would have adjudicated that we were all dead. That is the logical consequence of our troops living under the cross fire of Turkish batteries firing from Achi Baba to our front and the Asiatic coast to our rear. Happily, practice and theory are two different things. In practice our situation is tenable because from current military experience it takes ten times a man’s weight in steel to kill him! Also the Turkish bombardment, even on their best days, is far inferior in intensity to the deluges of shells that the Germans fire on the Western Front.⁷³

Captain François Charles-Roux, Headquarters, CEO

The British and French sat in their trenches, their every move obvious to the Turkish artillery observation officers high up on the slopes of Achi Baba. The failure of the attack meant that instead of augmenting their force the 52nd Division, which had begun to disembark during the final stages of the Turkish counter-attacks, was merely restocking depleted ranks.

The story of Helles was not a tale of defensive actions, skirmishes, patrols and small-scale company attacks, as at Anzac in May and early June. At Helles the real battle for Gallipoli had been fought out as whole divisions hurled themselves at each other time and time again on a front of about 5,000 yards from the Aegean to the Straits. Now the British and French horizons had closed in. Their aspirations were no longer Kilid Bahr or Achi Baba, or even Krithia, but merely the unprepossessing vista of the next in an endless sequence of trenches. The British had suffered 4,500 casualties and the French 2,000 at the Third Battle of Krithia; the Turks had lost about 9,000 men. Would a Fourth, Fifth or Sixth Battle of Krithia offer anything but more deaths?