Part 22

Struck by a chance bullet in a comparatively safe place! Cruel, cruel luck! At least Algy Wood, one of the most gallant officers of that pick of Divisions—the 29th—should have been spared. However, he had the satisfaction of putting up his hard-earned D.S.O. ribbon a week or so ago. We continue our way along trenches which, instead of running more or less in regular lines, zigzag in and out in sharp turns and corners, which face the high hills on our left, each corner protected by strong sand-bagged breastworks. The reason for this is that these breastworks, placed at short intervals in that part of the line where we are, screen us from view of the enemy in his trenches high up on the ridge of hills which overlook the sea on our left. Of course, we in our trenches up there also can overlook the Turks in the trenches running through the low country in their territory, which trenches also are punctuated at frequent short intervals by breastworks. In consequence of the danger of being seen by Turks on the hill, our trenches on the low land are very narrow, and Lord Howard de Walden causes great amusement to some Tommies sitting on the fire-step by the remark, “These trenches were not built for a man with an extra large tummy.”

We follow Panton, who is on his round of inspection of sumps, cesspits, cookhouses, and the general sanitation of the trenches. Myriads of flies, which precede us on our way; when we halt, they all promptly settle in black patches on the sand-bags and sides of trenches. When we continue our tour, they, rising immediately with a loud buzzing, lead the way for us.

An inspection of the cookhouse of the Newfoundland Regiment is made. It is built in a small sunken ravine at the back of the support line. Panton and Frew, their M.O., go to the end of the ravine. I wait at the end near entrance to the trench. A Newfoundlander says to me, “Excuse me, sir, but in the place in which you are standing our cook was killed yesterday by a sniper from the hill.” I am rude enough to forget to thank the man. I simply turn round on my heel, practically diving into the trench. But I shouted thanks to him as we left, five minutes after. After a short walk along the front line—the usual front line, with men at short intervals on the keen lookout through periscopes—we return by “D” communication trench, half an hour’s walk. We pass Gibraltar Hill, and so over the gorse to Gibraltar road, arriving at D.H.Q. on the hill, where I am given a topping lunch.

It is a beautiful summer day, and the Turks are sending over sporting shots at the shipping. The battleships answer, so the enemy turn their guns on to them instead, and actually record two hits on the _Prince George_, which then manœuvres for a fresh position. Then they get on to the supply ships again, which have to clear outside the boom, further away from the end of the promontory. Suddenly a good shot at long range gets a supply ship, which is loaded with hay, and quickly sets it on fire. Our battleships get very angry at this, but it is some time before they can silence the Turkish batteries. At sunset the hay supply ship is still smoking, but the fire is well under control. A new officer arrives, named Hunt, a good fellow from Tipperary. Good omen, for though we are a long, long way from Tipperary, one from that immortal place has come to join us.

_November 4th._

The ship that was set on fire yesterday lost practically all the hay in the forward hold. Consequently, for some time our poor little Indian mules will be on half rations. Destroyer has now broken her back and is a total wreck, waves breaking over her. Rain is beginning now. We had a few showers this morning. A little shelling in the morning, but the afternoon was quiet. Go up to Brigade H.Q. with the new Transport Officer, Hunt. Find conference on, so McLaughlin and Morris entertain us to tea. Have to make detour through flat wooded country, getting to and from H.Q., on account of this beastly new battery. Very quiet this afternoon; no shelling, and hardly any rifle fire. Hunt remarked, coming back, that it was a nice country walk, and reminded him of his homestead in Tipperary. He has been at Blackheath for the last six months at Headquarters at the Ranger’s Lodge, and left there only three weeks ago, so I like getting him to talk about Blackheath, which I knew so well. I have been on this place so long now, that a new-comer has only to mention about riding on a tramcar or going into a cakeshop, when I am held thrilled with interest and pleasure.

_November 5th._

A beautiful, cool summer day. Shelled at ten this morning for quite an hour. The destroyer has now completely broken her back, and her stern has disappeared. The Turks discovered the mishap, but they could not see that she is a wreck, as she is “bows on” to the Turkish position. Thinking, therefore, that the destroyer was still intact, though stuck on the ground, they attempted to finish her off, and for three hours shelled her. They only recorded two hits, however, and it was satisfactory to see old Turk wasting his ammunition. To-day another old friend has gone. He is Way, the 86th Supply Officer, who has been here since April 25th without ever going sick. He felt rather dicky two days ago, and was told to stay in his dugout, and to-day I find he has developed diphtheria badly. He tries not to go, but a doctor soon settles that. I shall now feel more lonely than ever, for we were great pals, and our walks to our respective H.Q. were among the few pleasures that I could look forward to. When casualties occurred at his dump he was always there to attend to the wounded, and as S.O. the 86th Brigade will miss him. I wonder how many of the old 29th are left. Well, Way is for Blighty, and good luck to him. But diphtheria is a nasty illness, and I hope he pulls through.

_November 6th._

Walker has gone off permanently to hospital with jaundice, and Hunt and myself are left on our own.

Beautiful summer day, to-day. Turk very quiet and hardly any shelling. _Swiftsure_ back, and the _Canopus_ and _Prince George_ busy shelling Turkish positions this afternoon.

_November 7th._

Another beautiful summer day. Turks shelled our valley at ten and again at three. No damage, though some were uncomfortably close to us. Our ships and shore batteries fairly busy. Monitors busy at night.

_November 8th._

A cool, lovely day. Flies are dying rapidly—the best news to record for a long time. Two new A.S.C. officers arrive to join us, named Matthews and Elphinstone. Very few shells this morning, but they come very near our dugout this time. Cox, of the Essex, comes in for a chat, the only original officer now left of that regiment. I walk back with him to Brigade H.Q., and Matthews comes with me. Walking across the flat space just leading to the 86th Brigade H.Q., I point out to Matthews the lines of light-brown earth running up the slopes of the hill on our left front, and he hardly believes me when I tell him one line is Turkish. Like all who newly arrive, he is surprised at the short walk from the beach to the line. Our batteries are dusting the Turkish line with shrapnel, and their batteries are retaliating. They make very good shooting on both sides, as, of course, they have all ranges registered to a nicety. We call at both Brigades, and have tea at each. Coming away, Matthews tells me that he is of a retiring disposition, and that he does not like being thrown suddenly into new society, and that two tea-parties is more than his nerves can stand, more especially when a General is present at each.

_November 9th._

Usual visit to Brigade H.Q. with Hunt, and after, inspect the forward reserve rations at C.R.E. dump. Men busy digging trenches back near beaches now. Another beautiful cool summer day, cold at night. Turks busy shelling batteries and shrapnelling trenches.

There is only one possible game for the Turk to play, and he is playing it well. That is to say, he must keep us at bay at all costs. Therein lies his only chance, for once we can get across the Peninsula to Maidos, his game is up, for we cut his main line of communications, so he shells us continually to keep us occupied. The shelling is so effective that elaborate dugouts have to be built. These are made as strong as possible, the inner walls being strengthened with sand-bags, the roof formed with strong cross-beams, on which rest, first, iron sheets or wire netting, then two layers of sand-bags, then soil. These dugouts are perfectly secure against shrapnel or high explosive splinters, but, of course, could not stand against a direct hit. But that would not worry the occupants much, as it would be all over in a few minutes. Inside such houses we have lounges cut out of the earth and covered with sacks. Our furniture is rough-and-ready, and made on the spot. It is marvellous what can be done with any ordinary wooden box, if you know how to deal with it. Out of our wooden boxes chairs and tables appear like magic—chairs with arms and adjustable backs; strong tables, and various other bits of furniture. Some of them are really quite good, and show clearly the ingenuity of their makers. We also have candlesticks, recesses for books, and toilet articles, all from the same source. Fireplaces are made out of home-made bricks—for there is a good deal of clay on the Peninsula. They are good fireplaces too, complete with mantelpiece, bars, and hob. So we sit round of an evening reading periodicals a month old with the same zest and interest as we read the latest editions at home.

By the papers, England sounds depressing.

So we would rather be here. We do know _the truth of Gallipoli_ here. Man likes to know what he is up against. Seven Divisions at the start would have fixed this job, no ships would have been lost, and our little friend Bulgaria would have thought twice of coming in against us. All night outside we hear the crack-crack-crack of the rifles in the trenches. Worcesters did a good bit of work the other night, capturing a sniper’s post three hundred yards in front. Only two casualties over that little job; they expected more. Turks in front of the 29th have fairly “got the wind up.” We bomb and shell their nerves away.

General Cayley says he is quite happy and does not want to go to Salonica, as he is looking forward to sitting round his fire of a winter’s night. General Percival says bother General Cayley’s fireplace; he wants to go to Salonica and get a move on. And so they live their lives, these men—lives full of danger, yet joking about their fireplaces.

_November 10th._

Another fairly quiet day. Ships firing a bit against Turkish batteries, which are sending back shrapnel. Take up Elphinstone to Brigade and have tea at the 86th. Have some excellent rock-cakes, made by their cook. General Cayley calls in. We walk round with him to the 88th. I get awfully fed up at times, but every time I see General Cayley he gives me a spurt for a few days. I had jaundice badly about two weeks ago, and they were going to send me off, and that meant England. I got a spurt, and soon felt fit again, and have never felt so well in all my life. Morris, Machine Gun Officer of the 88th, seriously ill with rheumatism, but he is trying to hang on. Destroyers and Monitors make a practice of shelling the Pimple from the Gulf of Saros now. Amusing watching destroyers. They fire, then emit a cloud of smoke, sail round behind it, then fire again, and so on. Old Turk can’t hit back. Shelling Pimple much in fashion just now. Poor old Turk! fancy trying to get to sleep on the Pimple with big guns throwing great shrieking shells at him all night.

_November 11th._

Lovely summer day. Are moving camp to IX Corps Gully. Busy arranging the necessary digging. Turks very busy with shrapnel this morning around Chocolate Hill and to the left. Battleships very angry and fire back, making a fearful noise. Old Turk sticks at it, though. General de Lisle, riding with A.D.C. and orderly, nearly gets hit. He takes too much risk and seems to have no nerves.

_November 12th._

Getting rather cold now. Fleet firing heavily to-day, and Turks, as usual, busy with shrapnel. “C” Beach badly shelled, and 13th Division Supply depot gets it badly; several casualties. A year ago to-day I received my commission and joined the 13th Division. If I had not joined the 29th Division I might have been on the “C” Beach to-day with the 13th Division. Go up to Brigade with Elphinstone and see new Staff Captain—Armstrong. Hadow is now with the 11th Division, and I am sorry he has gone. Stay till dusk. Turkish snipers always creep out at dusk. Bullets freely coming when we take our leave. Over the gorse outside the Brigade H.Q. I say to Elphinstone, “At this point at night I always walk fast,” and he, this being his first experience, says, “I am with you.” Out of range we light our pipes, then a comfortable walk back in the moonlight. Finish up work at the depot. Dinner and a smoke, and to Hell with the Kaiser!

_November 13th._

It is getting very windy and cold, but day quite fine. Flies still worrying, but not nearly so badly as a few weeks back. No shelling from Turk. Ships firing on Turkish batteries, which are badly shrapnelling Chocolate Hill. Kitchener in neighbourhood. Matthews leaves to be Adjutant of train at Helles, and Hunt and I go out in his pinnace to see him off. Sea a bit choppy, and I, sitting on the top of the engine-room, nearly fall through the skylight into the engines. Horne arrives to take his place. Has seen Kitchener at Mudros with a numerous Staff. Staff-Captain 86th Brigade comes to tea. Show him over our new camp for winter, which is in course of preparation. It is going to be “some” camp. It breaks the monotony, making this camp. Guests for dinner. Beautiful moonlight night and very quiet.

_November 14th._

A bit of a gale blowing. Another quiet day, absolutely no shelling. Kitchener arrives here at three o’clock with Staff. Was up Brigade with Horne at the time, and so missed the show; but my sergeant told me about it. He landed at little West Beach, walked through the Main Supply depot, and then past our depot, up IX Corps Gully to the top of the hill, and had a good look round the positions. He was only here about two hours. Tommies came running up and stood in groups at attention, while their C.O.’s and officers saluted, and he passed along saluting gravely right and left, now and again stopping to look at some dugouts. There is now general satisfaction that Kitchener has been and seen for himself what things are really like here. No shelling of the beaches while he was on shore, but the low lands were being shrapnelled.

_November 15th._

Quiet morning. In the afternoon the Turks put a dozen of the best over the beach, but did no harm. Bit of a battle on Chocolate Hill this afternoon at five, and rifle fire, and a great deal of shrapnel, for half an hour. Our battleships firing heavily and making a deafening din. Heavy thunderstorms at eight, with vivid forked lightning and rain. I suppose this is a foretaste of what is to come.

The safety of the beaches has now greatly improved. West Beach and the beach adjacent are now joined by a deep cutting. A deep trench, starting at the Main Supply depot, runs down to West Beach, in which is laid a tramway used for carrying supplies from the piers to the depot. This is under cover, entirely hidden from the enemy by day. The earth taken from this cutting or deep trench has been thrown up in great mounds at the back of the two beaches, rendering them safe from high explosive shells, though, of course, not from shrapnel. But “Whistling Rufus” has not worried us since the late days of October, devoting his attention to the unfortunately situated “C” Beach on the other side of Lala Baba. The road leading up on the higher ground to our D.H.Q. is now sunk and the dug out earth, thrown up on the side facing the enemy, hides all transport by day entirely from his view. Since this has been done this road has been almost entirely free from shrapnel.

_November 16th._

Men are hard at work digging our new camp in IX Corps Gully. We move there, when IX Corps H.Q. move to the end of the promontory. IX Corps new Headquarters should be entirely winterproof, even during the severest weather. They are also practically invulnerable, by reason of their position and the vast amount of labour that has been expended upon them. I myself saw sheds in sections being put bodily into the rock excavated to receive them. There were communication trenches cut in the living rock connecting dugout with dugout. Also, elaborate excavations in the rock formed shell-proof living quarters, and, when necessary, unlimited wood, iron, and sand-bags have been lavishly used. The whole place is a perfect engineering achievement—the most wonderful nest of safety that the mind of man could conceive. How different are the conditions at Lala Baba, but three miles away, where the wretched hovels of the troops cluster as thickly as the cells in a honeycomb. No coping of iron or beams there. A man is lucky if he has as much as a blanket or a waterproof sheet to stretch over his miserable hole in the ground—not enough shelter to keep out the raindrops, let alone shrapnel.

The system on which our camp is being modelled is the same as for all the other beach camps here. An effort is being made to house the men through the rigours of the winter storms, which no doubt will soon be upon us. Taking advantage of the sloping ground in the fold of the gully on the promontory, which increases in height as it extends inland towards the high land, deep trenches are dug parallel to the lines of our trenches inshore. They are 7 feet wide, with parapets and parados 8 feet and 6½ feet high respectively. They should be roofed in by corrugated iron; some only of them are, however. Corrugated iron is still a luxury here. Filled sand-bags are then laid on the top, which should render them shrapnel-proof. As they generally run at right angles to the line of Turkish artillery fire, a high explosive shell would explode on the mound of earth thrown up in front of the parapet, and not in the roof.

Each trench is dug on lower ground than the one in front. The whole system is being organized by an able technical engineer officer, who is hard at work from morning to night. His camp is taken as a model. Although in view of the enemy, its safety against casual shelling, such as we are daily subjected to, has been demonstrated several times. Against a heavy bombardment, of course, no trenches are proof. Shrapnel bullets have spattered harmlessly on his sand-bagged roofs. High explosive shells bursting full in the middle of his camp have been caught by the mound of earth in front of the trench. Should the shell miss one line of trenches, it is caught by the mound of earth in front of the other line behind. A direct hit on the roof, except from a howitzer, is almost impossible.

Drains are cut about and around the trenches to catch the water of the forthcoming heavy rains, and advantage is taken of the formation of the gullies to make one main drain into which smaller drains can run. One has only to look at the great boulders of stone standing half in and half out of the earth all over the high ground of the Peninsula, and at the large, medium, and small gullies, which are of all kinds of intricate geographical formations, to realize that at some time of the year not only a series of ordinary rainfalls, but raging deluges of water, fall in all-powerful torrents, mercilessly driving all before them, even great boulders of stone. No trenches, no matter how well constructed, can withstand heavy driving floods. Let the engineers first study the formation of the land, pause and reason a little, and they will see that all this labour will be lost, and their trenches full to the brim at the first heavy downfall. In dry weather, though, the system is excellent, and the men inside are very comfortable.

The trenches are entered by steps from the road or path at either end, or from the terrace behind between each trench. At night the men sleep in one row side by side, their kits hung on the earth wall behind them. Quarters for N.C.O.’s are partitioned off by timber and sacking. By day their blankets are rolled up neatly, and the whole makes a roomy apartment. A cookhouse constructed on the same principle is built at the end of a series of trenches. Officers’ dugouts are built near by, dug in the slope or behind protecting boulders. The whole, neat, orderly, and compact, affords remarkably good cover from shrapnel and high explosives—but for protection against weather, never. For protection against weather I prefer the de Lisle system of terraces, built on a steep slope in tiers, the whole practically a flight of very large steps. But, of course, a steep slope is necessary. The men’s quarters are simply built on each terrace; the back wall is cut out of earth, the roof of corrugated iron, supported by timbers and made shrapnel-proof, and the sides are built up of loose stones, tarpaulins, and timber. The hill on which such a system is built affords the necessary protection against shell fire. It is, of course, weather-proof, as it is simple to drain.

“C” Beach and Lala Baba across the bay get very badly shelled this afternoon, and in consequence the battleships are hard at work endeavouring to silence the Turkish batteries. Sounds of very heavy firing are heard from Helles, probably Monitors in action.

_November 17th._

Very little shelling, hardly any our way. To-day is very stormy, and as the time goes on the wind develops into a great gale. All landing of stores has to cease. Great white waves dash up against our piers, and after it is over there will be much work for the Australian Bridging Section. In the evening our flimsy summer quarters are cold and draughty. The oil-drum fire won’t burn. So we turn in early, Elphinstone and Horne going to their dugout up the rise to our left. Suddenly, just as we are getting into bed, the tarpaulin half of our roof blows adrift. Hunt and I have a job to fasten it back in position once more. The wind is shrieking outside. A short while after, Horne and Elphinstone come back, asking for shelter, for their bivouac has blown down altogether, and so we crowd them in our shelter for the rest of the night.

_November 18th, 19th, and 20th._

The usual daily visits to Brigade H.Q. forward reserve dumps and D.H.Q. I get exercise this way. Also to and fro on the beach, paying calls on friends among the many dugouts there. Some are excellent, especially those of Naval L.O.’s and Camp Commandant, built in the side of the high rocks. The Field Cashier has to be “stung” by me now and again on behalf of my Staff Captain to pay the men of Brigade H.Q. His dugout is not in a very safe place.

Once, outside the dugout, leaning against the wall of sand-bags talking to an Australian officer, I heard a shell coming clean for us. I had no time to get to cover. I saw men several yards away dive for cover. I watched the Australian. He did not duck, but I noticed that he gripped his pipe tightly with his teeth. I leant hard against the wall behind me, and the beastly thing passed low over our heads and burst in the sea. I said to him, “I wanted to duck, but as you didn’t, I didn’t,” and he replied, “Same here, son.” Gale has been blowing hard the last three days, the Navy having great difficulty in landing stores, etc.; but to-night—the night of the 20th—the wind is dying down. Hardly any shelling at all now, except inland.

Our flimsy bivouac very draughty and cold. It is hard work keeping our accounts and doing our office work.

_November 22nd._

Gale blowing hard now and wind much colder. Hard at work building our new camp. Hunt falls ill and has to go to bed, but trying to stick it out. Turks very quiet.