PLANS: COUNTDOWN TO DISASTER

At once we turned our faces to the land scheme. Very sketchy; how could it be otherwise? On the German system plans for a landing on Gallipoli would have been in my pocket, up-to-date and worked out to a ball cartridge and a pail of water. By the British system (?) I have been obliged to concoct my own plans in a brace of shakes almost under fire. Strategically and tactically our method may have its merits, for though it piles everything on to one man, the Commander, yet he is the chap who has got to see it through. But, in matters of supply, transport, organisation and administration our way is the way of Colney Hatch.¹

General Sir Ian Hamilton, Headquarters, MEF

THE BRITISH OFTEN FORGET that there are two sides in every conflict and have the particular habit of assuming that the actions of their generals are somehow the prime factor in deciding the outcome of any campaign or battle; that the overall situation, tactics and qualities of their enemies are all but irrelevant. This leads to excessive praise of generals benefiting from the egregious blunders of their opponents, or, far more often, undeserved opprobrium for those facing a dismal outlook, a competent opposing general and well-trained troops. Sadly, during the Gallipoli campaign it was the Turks who had the upper hand from the outset. They occupied the ground that the British required. Unless the British were able to get inside the loop of the Turkish command decision-making process, causing them to recast their plans spontaneously and thereby triggering chaos, then the Turkish High Command would be setting the agenda in the battles to come. As long as they occupied the high ground on either side of the Narrows, they were winning the battle. Nothing else was at issue; there was no merit to the British wearing down the strength of the Turkish armies, no bonus points for a close run race or the apposite use of classical quotations in despatches. Physical dominance of the Dardanelles was the only factor that would decide the outcome of the campaign.

General Otto Liman von Sanders, appointed to command the new Turkish Fifth Army, was given responsibility for the defence of the Straits. His command was made up of the III Corps (the 7th, 9th and 19th Divisions and the Chanak Fortified Area Command) and the XV Corps (the 3rd and 11th Divisions) with the 5th Division and a cavalry brigade as reserves. Liman was born in Prussia on 17 February 1855. He had risen steadily to the rank of lieutenant general in 1911, whereupon, not being considered quite up to taking command of an army corps, he had eventually been despatched to lead the German Military Mission in Constantinople in December 1913. Having reached the port of Gallipoli on 26 March 1915 and set up his headquarters, Liman was faced with the challenge of how to distribute his forces.

The important question was where the hostile landing should be expected. On it depended the grouping of the troops, which were rather inconsiderable in comparison with the great extent of the coast. Technical feasibility for the landing of large bodies of troops existed in many parts of the coast. All could not be occupied. The decision therefore must be made on tactical grounds. The positions of the five existing divisions up to March 26 had to be altered completely. They had been posted on different principles and distributed along the entire coast, somewhat like the frontier detachments of the good old days. The enemy on landing would have found resistance everywhere, but there were no reserves to check a strong and energetic advance. I ordered the divisions to hold their troops together and to send only the most indispensable security detachments to the coast within their sectors. Whatever might be in store, in view of our weak forces, our success depended not on sticking tight, but on the mobility of our three battle groups.²

General Otto Liman von Sanders, Headquarters, Fifth Army

The strength of the Turkish Army in 1914 was a moot point critical to the outcome of the imminent campaign. It was undoubtedly large, with thirty-six cadre divisions with a peacetime strength of just over 200,000 men and 8,000 officers but which could be expanded to a wartime mobilised strength of approximately 500,000 and had the capacity to expand to about 800,000 after six months. However, the army was woefully ill equipped with a lack of modern artillery, machine guns and even rifles. Munitions of every form were also in short supply. Yet this distressing catalogue hid some solid military virtues. The ordinary Turkish soldiers, used to a hard-grafting civilian existence where life was cheap, coped well with the privations of military life and were hammered into shape by a draconian disciplinary system. The appointment of Enver as the Minister of War in 1913 had also brought a much-needed cull of old, incompetent or over-political officers. This increasing professionalism of the officer corps was enhanced by a whole generation of carefully trained staff officers. The harsh lessons of the Balkan Wars had been to some extent assimilated and their training emphasised, at least in theory, mobility, the value of achieving superiority in the fire fight that preceded any battle, the necessity of digging trenches to consolidate features of tactical importance, and the advantage of immediate counter-attacks to regain lost ground. There was also a grim determination among the Turks not to be beaten again.

A year earlier we had the Balkan Wars and we were defeated very badly, but on the other hand we had the practice of fighting. In this war at Gallipoli we were facing two great forces in the world – the French and British people. They had great armies, but they were lacking practice.³

Captain Ashir Arkayan, Artillery, Fifth Army

The Turkish Army was organised into infantry divisions, each consisting of three regiments of three battalions. This triangular structure would prove extraordinarily resilient under the pressures of war and would eventually be adopted by most of the combatants in the Great War. Although the Balkan Wars had been a disaster due mainly to overambitious operational plans, the troops themselves had fought with considerable grit and determination. All told, the raw materials of the Fifth Army at Liman’s disposal were far better than either the British or the Germans realised.

One often unappreciated problem Liman faced was the topography of the Gallipoli Peninsula. It was for the most part rough terrain lacking in the shelter, water or easy supply routes that would allow the maintenance of thousands of men there for months at a time. This meant that large units could not be situated far from the few centres of population that existed. Of course these problems would also be faced by the Allies once they had landed.

With all this in mind Liman identified three main possibilities for large Allied landings. The first was on the Bulair Isthmus at the neck of Gallipoli, which he seems to have considered crucial, although misgivings as to the rationality of this preoccupation have surfaced ever since. As a result he based the 7th Division in the town of Gallipoli and had them occupying the Bulair Lines, with the reserves of the 5th Division also concentrated near the Bulair Isthmus, while the independent cavalry brigade guarded the coast of the Gulf of Saros. A further identified risk was a landing on the Asian side, with Kum Kale and Besika Bay being seen as possible landing sites from which an Allied advance could take the Asiatic Straits batteries from the rear. To counter this perceived threat the 3rd Division had one regiment forward covering Kum Kale and Yeni Shehr, while the other two waited close to the ruins of Troy. Similarly, the 11th Division had pushed forward one regiment to watch Besika Bay while the main strength was at Ezine. Finally, Liman thought any invasion of the Gallipoli Peninsula itself was likely to be launched either at Helles, on the southern tip, or on either side of the Gaba Tepe promontory, which lay directly opposite the town of Maidos and the Kilid Bahr Plateau. The whole area was the responsibility of the 9th Division, under the command of Colonel Sami Bey, who stationed the 27th Regiment to guard the Gaba Tepe sector, while the 26th Regiment was set to guard the coastline all the way from just south of Gaba Tepe down to Helles. The 25th Regiment was the divisional reserve positioned at Serafim Farm up on Kilid Bahr Plateau, to be deployed elsewhere or defend the plateau as required. The 19th Division, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Mustafa Kemal, was the army reserve, based centrally at Boghali, not far from Maidos, and ready to be committed wherever Liman wished.

The concept of centralised reserve units marching swiftly to the landing points required a considerable amount of hard work and preparation if it was to have any chance of operating smoothly in the disorder of battle.

The chief issue was to so arrange matters as to be able to reach landing-places with fighting forces as quickly as possible. Such a fluid condition of the reporting elements, and rapid mobility of the troops, could only be attained by constant practice. This required time. On the 27th March, the Marshal, who was hurriedly surveying his whole zone shortly after assuming command, said to me, ‘If the English will only leave me alone for eight days.’ Actually four weeks passed.⁴

Colonel Hans Kannengiesser, Headquarters, Fifth Army

The Turks were granted the time they craved for training exercises, and they were also able to improve their defence works on the most likely looking landing sites, particularly the beaches at Helles and south of Gaba Tepe. Lacking material resources and further hampered by the threat of naval bombardments, they would have to rely on their ingenuity.

For the improvement of the field fortifications of the most endangered stretches of the coast all available men were put to work and mostly at night. The available Turkish means of obstruction were as short as were the tools, but we did the best we could. Torpedo heads were used alongside with the regular land mines and the fences of gardens and fields were stripped of their wood and wire. At places particularly suitable for landings barbed wire was stretched under water.⁵

General Otto Liman von Sanders, Headquarters Fifth Army

Liman is often regarded as the architect of everything sound in the Turkish plans for the defence of Gallipoli, but it seems possible that his Turkish subordinates had already begun to move to a light screen and central reserve system before his arrival.⁶ The Bulair Lines had already been dug and strengthened to keep the Bulgarians and Greeks out of the Peninsula, while the fortifications dug on Kilid Bahr in 1913 indicate that the Turks had a firm understanding of what were the key geographical features of the area. It would hardly be unusual for a general to put himself more at the centre of events in his memoirs than might be justified. More pertinently, had Liman, as some of the Turkish officers feared, depleted the coastal detachments too much in his desire to bolster the flexible reserves? Were they left too weak to perform their designated function of holding the Allies until the reserves could arrive? By late April the Turks had made their dispositions, rehearsed their plans and prepared their fortifications as best they could. They held the ground they needed to hold; the question now was could the Allies throw them out?

AS GENERAL SIR IAN HAMILTON considered his options for the military operations it was apparent that the Allies had broken another important principle of waging war successfully: surprise. The desired objective of securing the Dardanelles Straits was obvious. Any chance of a strategic shock had been surrendered when the fleet bombarded the entrance forts way back in November 1914, thereby drawing the eyes of the world to the Straits. Tactical surprise was to some extent still possible, but only if the Allies could come up with a plan that could isolate the disparate elements of the Turkish forces. Hamilton had to blind and confuse the Turkish commander as to his real intentions.

The first and foremost step towards a victorious landing was to upset the equilibrium of Liman von Sanders, the enemy commander of the Fifth Army. I must try to move so that he should be unable to concentrate either his mind or his men against us.⁷

General Sir Ian Hamilton, Headquarters, MEF

In trying to achieve this, Hamilton had considerable advantages, for the Straits themselves already divided the Turkish forces, while the marching distance between Helles at the tip of the Peninsula and Bulair could be measured in days rather than hours. Even local reserve forces would be delayed by the rough ground when marching to the landing sites. There was therefore the potential for Hamilton to cause Liman the very greatest difficulties.

In making his decision as to where to land Hamilton had to consider the trade-off between unexpected landing points and the best locations to allow a rapid advance to secure the Narrows. The obvious approach of landing at either the most suitable beaches or close to his objectives would find the Turks ready and waiting, thereby threatening excessive casualties; a more indirect route might allow the troops to come ashore safely, but the inappropriate nature of the beach, the distance to be travelled, or the rough terrain would give the Turkish reserves ample time to block the approach to the main objectives.

The question of forcing the Dardanelles or landing on the Gallipoli Peninsula was not new; it had been discussed time and time again over the past fifty years. Indeed, both British and French forces had occupied the Peninsula for a time during the 1850s and the 1870s. A series of reports on the possibilities of a naval attack, with or without military support, on the Dardanelles had been carried out for the War Office in 1906. In general, these recommended against a solely naval attack and commended both the virtues of prior practice landings and of achieving surprise. Subsequent reviews conducted in 1907 and 1908 were contradictory, illustrating the confusion as to whether it was, or was not, a feasible act of war to force the Straits. It seems that Hamilton did not have a copy of the 1906 paper but he was almost certainly in possession of the Anglo-Greek plan, which had only been prepared in 1914 by Vice Admiral Mark Kerr. The absence of any General Staff scheme can be attributed to delays in confirming that any large-scale military operations were being planned. Indeed, the poor communications between the War Council, the Admiralty, the General Staff, the Eastern Mediterranean Squadron (EMS) and the MEF make it difficult to work out when exactly a major landing on the Gallipoli Peninsula became inevitable, or indeed when the planning should have started – the only certainty was that it should have been begun earlier. The disarray was made worse by the dispersal of most of the General Staff to the BEF on the Western Front in August 1914. This may have stemmed from the understandable enthusiasm of career officers to take part in active service, but it represented an abrogation of their true responsibilities as key staff functions then had to be fulfilled by officers brought out of retirement. Such ‘dugout’ officers were almost totally ignored by Kitchener, who tended to act as Commander in Chief of the army rather than Secretary of State for War. The prevailing military culture was such that Hamilton could not make the entirely reasonable demand for a set of fully evaluated combined operations plans conditional to his accepting command of the MEF. Hamstrung by his long-subservient relationship with Kitchener, Hamilton was not the man to kick up a fuss – or not until he wrote his memoirs, by which time it was far too late.

Where are your well-thought-out schemes for an amphibious attack on Constantinople? Not a sign! Braithwaite set to work in the Intelligence Branch at once. But beyond the ordinary text books those pigeon holes were drawn blank. The Dardanelles and Bosphorus might be in the moon for all the military information I have got to go upon. One text book and one book of travellers’ tales don’t take long to master.⁸

General Sir Ian Hamilton, Headquarters, MEF

However, the truth seems to have been very different. Although the maps in Hamilton’s possession were not good, they were at least adequate for the purpose of operational planning. He had a 1:63,360 map which had been prepared in 1908 (based on an older 1:50,000 map from a French survey made during the Crimean War in 1854), while additional information had been incorporated to create a 1:40,000 enlargement in March 1915. There were inadequacies in the methodology of the original French survey and the subsequent British redrawing with contours shown at intervals of 100 feet suppressed many of the topographic details revealed by the original 10 metre intervals. However, nothing much had changed on the Peninsula in the last sixty years and while the lack of an accurate large-scale map was unfortunate, what could be done if the requisite topographic survey had not been carried out? After all, the main features were present on the maps. The acidic comment of a naval officer is perhaps pertinent here.

The military history refers to the surprise of many soldiers at the unexpected sharpness of the many ravines; but on looking at my copy of the map, which I have kept, the contour lines seem to have indicated this fairly clearly. As a matter of fact good map-reading is not common, and many army officers are, or were, bad at it.⁹

Captain Bertram Smith, HMS Vengeance

In addition, while there were no maps accurate enough to be relied on to allow indirect artillery or naval fire ‘shooting off the map’ at Gallipoli, they were not available for the Western Front either in 1915. In any event, this kind of indirect fire using distances and angles worked out from a map was not then quite as important as it would become with the benefit of years of intensive artillery development and the associated detailed map survey work undertaken over the course of the war in France and Flanders. The Gallipoli maps would be improved only as and when the Allies either carried out their own survey, or captured copies of the better Turkish maps based on a 1:25,000 survey carried out in 1912–13.

In planning the landing on an occupied coast, intelligence therefore took on a vital importance. The sea approaches, the physical character of the beaches, the presence or otherwise of defence works, the numbers of opponents likely to be met, the nature of the beach exits, the state of the roads, the exact topography of the ground to be encountered in between the landing place and the objective – these were all crucial to the planning process. For over a hundred years naval hydrographers, consular officials, military and naval attachés, intelligence officers, even civilian yachtsmen had channelled intelligence, by open or clandestine means, back to Britain. In 1876, one naval officer had even prepared a 4-inch-to-the mile map with accompanying comprehensive notes covering the direct route between Gaba Tepe and the Kilid Bahr Plateau. What prescience! Indeed, it is noticeable that several of these reports settled on the Gaba Tepe sector as the best landing spot, as it had roads leading directly to both Maidos and Kilid Bahr. These various reports were all collated as secret documents by Naval Intelligence (1908) and the War Office (1909), but the process of intelligence acquisition certainly did not stop then and there were regular updates. Nearly all of this material, it has been convincingly argued, was made available to Hamilton and his staff, if not in London, then at the early briefing meetings out in theatre.¹⁰

In total these resources provided an excellent picture of the Gallipoli Peninsula and its possible landing places. This layer of detail was then supplemented by further intelligence reports from a variety of sources on the strength of the Turkish forces at Gallipoli. There were also personal observations carried out from the sea augmented by a series of beautifully drawn panoramas of landing sites which were duplicated and made available. Finally, there were the efforts of 3 Squadron, Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS), who were able use their aircraft to conduct a series of pioneering photographic reconnaissance missions which recorded with considerable accuracy the locations and ongoing changes in the Turkish defensive dispositions. Whatever Hamilton might claim, the information he required to make his plans was available; the more relevant question was how would he use it?

Right at the start of the belated planning process one decision that had already been provisionally taken by Birdwood was swiftly endorsed by Hamilton and his Chief of Staff, Major General Walter Braithwaite: they would eschew the amateur strategist’s favourite ploy – and indeed Liman’s main fear – of landing at Bulair. As far as Hamilton was concerned there were several flaws to this superficially attractive idea. Firstly, any landing would have to be on the northern, or Constantinople, side of the Turkish defence lines across the isthmus. These trenches and forts dated back to the Crimean War, but had recently been modernised by the Turks. Furthermore, any troops landing there would be vulnerable to attack from both sides. Secondly, the occupation of these lines would not cut off Turkish supplies and reinforcements to the Peninsula as their sea routes would be unaffected. Thirdly, Bulair was nowhere near the Narrows. Fourthly, the increased distance from the only feasible base at Mudros would have stretched an already strained line of communications to breaking point. Finally, and not insignificantly, there was the presence of the two Turkish divisions specifically placed there by Liman to thwart any such landing.

The British High Command also decided to abandon the option of serious operations on the Asiatic side of the Straits. Opinions as to the feasibility of such operations were mixed. While some thought that the openness of the ground would offer relative freedom of manoeuvre (impossible on the cramped Gallipoli Peninsula), others feared that the expeditionary force would be exposed to full-scale continental operations once the Turks mobilised their forces. As the Allies advanced towards Chanak and their objectives they would be leaving their right flank and communications terribly exposed to counter-attack. In any case, Hamilton had been advised by Kitchener that no such operation should be attempted.

That left the Gallipoli Peninsula itself. A glance at any map would reveal that domination of the Straits meant that the Kilid Bahr Plateau immediately behind the European forts would have to be secured to achieve Hamilton’s aims. There were several obvious-looking landing beaches, but they all had some disadvantages. Suvla Bay was lightly guarded, but the line of march would entail crossing, or passing either side of, the Sari Bair range, rising to 971 feet. Hamilton also knew that there were strong Turkish forces in the Boghali area which could intercept the British well before they neared Kilid Bahr. A far better proposition was Gaba Tepe. This was where Hamilton determined to strike, making a night landing of the ANZAC Corps on the beaches north of Gaba Tepe, which were not yet well defended. Although to secure their beachhead the covering force would also have to gain a measure of control of the Sari Bair range, they would have every opportunity to do so before the Turkish reserves could arrive. The main force could then push on to seize the conically shaped Mal Tepe hill feature before launching an attack on Kilid Bahr itself the next day.

I would like to land my whole force in one – like a hammer stroke – with the fullest violence of its mass effect – as close as I can to my objective, the Kilid Bahr plateau. But, apart from the lack of small craft, the thing cannot be done; the beach space is so cramped that the men and their stores could not be put ashore. I have to separate my forces and the effect of momentum, which cannot be produced by cohesion, must be reproduced by the simultaneous nature of the movement.¹¹

General Sir Ian Hamilton, Headquarters, MEF

This was to prove a fatal decision, the logic of which is debatable. There were many beaches stretching out on either side of Gaba Tepe and down towards Suvla which could have been used, once the covering force had secured the landing areas. Most or all of Hamilton’s MEF could have been landed here for a concerted push on Kilid Bahr – this would have been the real hammer stroke. However, Hamilton also resolved to divide his force and make a series of supposedly coordinated landings all round the Helles tip of the Peninsula. Here, although the likely main landing beaches were well guarded by the Turks, it was felt that the navy would be able to pour in supporting fire from all three sides, pounding the Turks into a state of submission. The main beaches identified were V Beach, in front of the Sedd el Bahr fort and village, and W Beach, further round the Helles Cape. Hamilton also planned surprise subsidiary flanking assaults at the less likely landing points of X Beach, near W Beach, and S Beach in Morto Bay, just below De Tott’s Battery. Hamilton also decided to place a force on the isolated Y Beach at the bottom of a very steep gully further up the western side of the Peninsula between the Turkish forward positions and their local reserves, with the intention of breaking their communications. These multifarious Helles operations would be the responsibility of the 29th Division augmented by the Plymouth Battalion of the RND. Their ambitious timetable involved the capture of the dominating height of Achi Baba behind the small village of Krithia by dusk on the first day, followed by a determined push next day in concert with the ANZAC Corps to sweep the Turks from Kilid Bahr. To counter the possible impact of the Turkish Asiatic batteries firing into the back of the landing forces at S and V Beaches it was decided to land a French force at Kum Kale, which would have the additional advantage of confusing the Turkish High Command as to whether the landing was real or not. Finally, Hamilton also approved diversionary operations without any actual landings by the French off Besika Bay and by the RND in the Gulf of Saros to threaten the Bulair Lines.

It is often thought that the only role of the Royal Navy in the operation was to carry out and support the landings. This was of course true on the first two days, but on the third day, with Kilid Bahr having been captured, the intention was to launch a naval attack to finally crash through the Narrows. The navy would also immediately begin a submarine campaign. On 25 April the AE2 submarine managed to break through the Straits’ underwater defences and into the Sea of Marmara. From then on the navy was able to maintain a strong presence behind the Turkish lines. Classic commerce raiding operations were used to disrupt Turkish sea routes to such an extent that by June 1915 most of the larger ships had all but disappeared and resupply was left to the ferries and small sailing craft. Eventually the Turks considered it far too dangerous to transport troops by sea. This forced them to use their land routes, which were in a shocking state of disrepair. Reinforcement units were brought as far as was possible by rail to then face a tiring three-day march on primitive roads before they even got to the Peninsula. Supplies and munitions had to be painstakingly brought in in small loads by pack animals and carts. Although the sea communications were never actually severed, the Allies’ submarine operations would form a continual harassing backdrop for the Turks throughout the whole campaign.

Unfortunately, in drawing up his plans for the landings, Hamilton cast aside any slim opportunities that were set before him. Instead of forming a cohesive focused plan and sticking to it, he adopted, at least in part, almost every option on offer. He needlessly overcomplicated everything: like a sentence bespattered with clauses, subclauses and tangential meandering syntax, his plan layered main landings, support landings, diversionary landings and distracting demonstrations one upon the other. He had intended to confuse Liman to prevent him from concentrating the Turkish forces against the landings, but in doing so he failed to concentrate his own forces, which left them vulnerable to defeat in detail, thus mirroring the mistakes of his masters in London. The operations were also predicated on a belief that once the British came ashore the Turks would cut and run. They were not regarded as a ‘European enemy’ in the terminology of the time; like many senior British Army officers at the time, he underestimated his enemy and felt he could take risks that he would not have attempted against the German Army.

Many of his divisional commanders, however, were worried by the scale of the Turkish defences, the numbers of Turkish troops available, the hostile terrain and their own lack of reserves. Of these the most forthright was Major General Aylmer Hunter-Weston, commander of the 29th Division responsible for the Helles landings. Born in 1864, Hunter-Weston had been commissioned into the Royal Engineers and had seen active service and been wounded on the North-west Frontier of India. Subsequently, like so many of the senior officers at Gallipoli, he had served on Kitchener’s staff, in 1896 before service during the Boer War. The usual round of staff postings had followed and he had commanded the 11th Brigade on the Western Front in 1914 before his late appointment on 13 March 1915 to the command of the 29th Division. Although often caricatured as a fool by critics unable to see beyond his bristling manner and imposing military moustache, Hunter-Weston fully recognised the scale of the problems that faced his division. After reviewing the reports of Turkish defensive preparations and the MEF’s artillery weakness he considered it likely that they would end up stuck in an extended line across the Peninsula in front of the Kilid Bahr trenches, at which point they would be, in his delightful phrase, ‘Up a tree!’¹²

No loss would be too heavy and no risks too great if thereby success would be attained. But there is not in present circumstances a reasonable chance of success. The return of the expedition when it has gone so far will cause discontent, much talk, and some laughter; but it will not do irreparable harm to our cause, whereas to attempt a landing and fail to secure a passage through the Dardanelles would be a disaster to the Empire. The threat of invasion by the Allies is evidently having considerable effect on the Balkan States. It is therefore advisable to continue our preparations; to train our troops for landing, and to get our expedition properly equipped and organised for this difficult operation of war; so as to be ready to take advantage of any opportunity for successful action that may occur. But I would repeat; no action should be taken unless it has been carefully thought out in all its possibilities and details and unless there is a reasonable probability of success.¹³

Major General Aylmer Hunter-Weston, Headquarters, 29th Division

Unhappily for their men, if one thing was certain in the British Army of 1915, it was that when put under pressure the ‘can do’ mentality would surface among senior officers. They would buckle to, make the best of a bad situation and muddle through. Hunter-Weston swallowed his doubts and determined to overcome the challenges. He was not alone. When further coastal reconnaissance revealed what was facing them at Helles, Brigadier General Steuart Hare remained undaunted, even though he was commanding the 86th Brigade who would be the first ashore.

They have made it very strong all round the extreme end but I don’t see how they can hold it in the face of the bombardment. Here the sailors will be shooting at what they can see. I do not anticipate much opposition to the actual landing except from long range artillery fire. It will be in our further advance that we shall catch it.¹⁴

Brigadier General Steuart Hare, Headquarters, 86th Brigade, 29th Division

The main Helles landings would be made in daylight, as Hunter-Weston was vehemently against landing at night in uncharted waters with possible strong currents, and feared the confusion that might result. Hamilton favoured a night landing, as at Anzac, but deferred to his subordinate, whom he considered had the executive responsibility and must therefore be allowed to take the key decisions.

The apparent confidence of Hamilton and his senior staff utterly bemused some of their subordinates when they realised what was to be attempted. The results of recent aerial and naval reconnaissances seem to have been ignored, to the chagrin of those who had spent considerable time collecting that intelligence.

During the past few weeks we were instructed to show on the chart of the peninsula all places where landing was deemed to be difficult or impossible owing either to defensive measures by the Turks or the unsatisfactory character of the beach, including exposure to bad weather. This was completed and forwarded through the usual channels. We received the operation order for the landing and were amazed to find that the Army had decided to land at nearly all the places which we had reported as being either difficult or impossible. So I was convinced that if the landing was successful it would only be at the expense of very heavy casualties.¹⁵

Lieutenant Geoffrey Ryland, HMS Ark Royal

This choice of landing sites already identified as well defended is best exemplified by the choice of V Beach where there were trenches and lines of barbed wire. Given that the only method of landing was from open rowing boats towed in lines by steam launches, the likely problems were evident. Two weeks before the landings a staff meeting was held aboard the Arcadian to discuss the plans. Attending this meeting in a minor capacity was Commander Edward Unwin, a sailor with considerable experience in both the Merchant Marine and the Royal Navy. Although he had retired in 1909, he had been recalled on the outbreak of war and was placed in command of the Hussar, an old torpedo boat which had been converted to act as a communications yacht for the Eastern Mediterranean Squadron. Unwin arrived at the meeting with an open mind, but what he heard of the formidable nature of the Turkish beach defences at V Beach both concerned and inspired him. He was not a man to hold back when an idea occurred to him.

It seemed to me that if the beach was properly defended by an enemy at only 200 yards, who reserved their fire till the boats were about 100 yards from the beach, not many would get ashore. I said, ‘My idea would be to land the men in a specially prepared ship, right on the beach.’¹⁶

Commander Edward Unwin, HMS Hussar

Unwin’s thinking was straightforward. The ship would carry in relative safety a large number of assault troops who could then be rushed ashore in a matter of moments, then the ship would be used as a makeshift forward base, giving support fire to the attack while providing cover for command functions and shelter for the wounded. There was the additional advantage that it could carry huge quantities of ammunition, food and water and thereby act as a resupply depot in the days immediately following the landing.

Commander Unwin’s suggestion was seized upon and he himself was placed in command of the project, using men from the Hussar as crew. The ship selected to run aground at V Beach was the 4,000-ton collier the River Clyde. She was British built and owned but at the time was under charter to the French. Once the French military supplies had been unloaded a rapid conversion project was commenced. Midshipman George Drewry, also from the Hussar, was involved from the start.

He gave me thirty Greeks and told me to clean her. Well, she was the dirtiest ship I’ve seen. She was in ballast and had just brought French mules up from Algiers, they had built boxes and floors in the ’tween decks and carried the mules there without worrying about sanitary arrangements. We knocked the boxes up and cleaned her up for the troops.¹⁷

Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde

Eight large holes were then cut in the sides of the ship, four on each side, at the level of the lower decks where the troops could be carried in relative safety and comfort. Drewry then rigged up planking stages stretching along both sides and thereby linking the exit ports to a platform at the bow.

Early on, Unwin realised that the River Clyde might run aground too far from the beach to allow for easy disembarkation. Arrangements were therefore made to tow alongside it a steam hopper and three additional lighters which would fill any gap between the River Clyde and the beach. Meanwhile it had also been decided to use the machine guns of the RNAS Armoured Car Division to provide a huge concentration of fire to cover the disembarkation and support the attack. Lieutenant Commander Josiah Wedgwood was soon busy carrying out his own vital modifications to the River Clyde.

We made casemates for our guns, and have also got eighteen motorcycles aboard so that we can run our guns, or other people’s ammunition, up to Krithia if all goes well. Today, this afternoon, 2,400 Munsters, Dublins and Hampshires come on board and conceal themselves in the holds of the Wooden Horse – we are in sight of the windy plains of Troy. In the ship’s sides great ports are cut. As soon as the crash comes and we grind ashore, these dragons’ teeth spring armed from the ports.¹⁸

Lieutenant Commander Josiah Wedgwood, No. 3 Squadron, Royal Naval Armoured Car Division

Wedgwood was not the only one to seize on the romantic affectation of regarding the River Clyde as a modern-day Trojan Horse being launched forth to bring doom to the Turkish defenders. For many officers who had enjoyed the benefits of a public school education, the story of the fall of Troy was very familiar. This was of little comfort to Unwin, who was finding his personal accountability for the success or failure of the V Beach landings beginning to weigh down on him.

I have never spent such a time in my life as I did before the landing, the awful responsibility, for I wasn’t just carrying out orders, but carrying through a scheme of my own in which if I failed the consequences might be awful. The thousands of thoughts that flash through one’s head at such a time as to what might happen and how to meet them. And on top of it all the wonder as to how one will behave one’s self, as I don’t believe any man is quite sure of himself.¹⁹

Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde

One enigmatic character caught up in the River Clyde plans was Lieutenant Colonel Charles (known as Dick) Doughty Wylie, a staff officer attached to the 29th Division. Born in 1868, he had seen considerable military service before spending periods as first a military consul and then as Director in Chief of Red Cross Units in Turkey during the Balkan Wars. His wife Lily Doughty Wylie was working – in her husband’s view overworking – in a hospital in France. Dick Doughty Wylie was a dashing, tall, blue-eyed literary soldier and there was much speculation about his strange quasi-affair with the famous Arabist archaeologist Gertrude Bell. However, he also cared deeply for his wife and worried what would happen to her if he was killed.

Lily would feel intolerably lonely and hopeless after her long hours of work, which would tell on anybody’s spirit and vitality. She talks about overdoses of morphia and such things. I think that in reality she is too brave and strong minded for such things, but still the saying weighs on my spirits. If you hear I’m killed go over at once to France and seek her out; don’t lose any time, but go and look after her. Don’t take her away from the work, for it will be best for her to work, but manage to stay somewhere near and see her through. I haven’t told her yet of this wrecked ship because I don’t want her to know till it’s over. This is a very interesting show from every point of view – but it runs a great many chances however one looks at it. It may be a success and is certainly bold enough in idea. Don’t be unduly anxious over this business – it’s all in the day’s work as far as I am concerned.²⁰

Lieutenant Colonel Dick Doughty Wylie, Headquarters, 29th Division

There was pandemonium in the crowded Mudros harbour in the final few days before the invasion fleet set off. The final prerequisite for a successful operation was not in the Allies’ hands – fair weather. The original intended landing date was 23 April, but a gale on the morning of 21 April forced a postponement of forty-eight hours. The date was finally set for 25 April. The ships set off in carnival atmosphere on 24 April. As each transport moved away the cheers rang out. They were heading for their preliminary rendezvous off the islands of Tenedos (for the Helles force) and Imbros (for the Anzac force).

As they moved slowly across the Aegean an air of tension built up that afflicted almost everyone aboard the River Clyde. For the most part Commander Unwin acted as the officer of the watch on the bridge, although he briefly allowed Midshipman Drewry to stand a turn.

At 2 a.m. or thereabouts the Captain turned over to me and I found myself on the bridge very sleepy with only the helmsman, steering towards the Turkish searchlights on a calm night just making headway against the current, shadowy forms of destroyers and battleships slipping past me. Visions of mines and submarines rose up before me as I thought of the 2,500 men in the holds and I felt very young.²¹

Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde

After just an hour or so, Unwin came back on to the bridge and ordered Drewry, accompanied by Seaman George Samson, to board the steam hopper.

As the River Clyde made her slow journey to Helles time weighed heavily for these young men about to risk all for their country. Although they knew that they should get some rest, that it might be their last opportunity for a couple of days, their circumstances prevented easy slumbers.

The night was bitterly cold. The holds were crowded and uncomfortable. Some of the officers went up on to the deck. I tried to get some sleep but the cold and hard iron decks were not congenial to sleep. I did find a warm sheltered spot near the engines, but as I was dozing off a heavy sea boot was planted firmly on my face – I had overlooked the fact that I was lying across the doorway to the engine room!²²

Second Lieutenant Reginald Gillett, 2nd Hampshire Regiment, 88th Brigade, 29th Division

Whatever their commanders may have thought, many of the men realised that they were about to undergo a severe ordeal that might well be their last. It was not a cheery prospect.

I felt we were for it. That the enterprise was unique and would demand all I was possible of giving, and more. That it was no picnic but a desperate venture. I just longed to get on with it and be done with it. I felt I was no hero and that I had not the pluck of a louse. My nerves were tense and strung up, and yet I never doubted that we would not win through, because I knew the splendid fellows at my back, highly trained, strictly disciplined, and they would follow me anywhere.²³

Captain Guy Geddes, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division

So the Allied convoys moved with grim purpose to their various landing points scattered up and down the Peninsula. Nothing could stop them, so the soldiers were told. But all the same, they could not help but worry.