Part 4

The newcomers worked their way through or round the ends of the barbed-wire fence, and Captain Willis then led the charge upon the enemy’s trenches. The Turks fought with great gallantry, but the Lancashires drove them from their first line and gradually worked up to higher and higher positions.

All this was done in the face of a withering fire from the Turkish machine-guns and pom-poms; and the enemy also exploded several land mines without checking the steady advance of our brave fellows. Just before ten o’clock that morning more men were landed, and by this time no less than three lines of enemy trenches were in British hands above Beach W.

Sir Ian Hamilton afterwards wrote: “It was to the complete lack of the sense of danger or of fear in this daring battalion that we owed our astonishing success in this quarter.”

But no words can convey in the least degree the fierceness of the struggle which took place that morning, or the dogged character of the effort of the Lancashires to gain a footing on the beach. During the Great War men rose to such a height of heroism that deeds of wonderful daring became matters of daily routine. One unhappy result of this was that people at home took brave deeds for granted, and forgot to do honour to those who had done such great things for their country.

COMMANDER UNWIN AND THE TWO MIDSHIPMEN

On Beach V of the Gallipoli Peninsula another method of landing men was used. A collier named the _River Clyde_ was filled with soldiers and run ashore, after a landing had been tried in the ordinary way and had failed. Wide openings had been made in the sides of the vessel from which gangways were slung on ropes to give the men passage either to the shallow water or to flat boats known as lighters which were to form a kind of bridge to the beach. The _River Clyde_ was in charge of Commander Edward Unwin.

The first landing from small boats upon this beach had been a disastrous affair. The men were shot down as they landed, and very soon the beach was strewn with dead and dying. Many were killed or wounded before they could leave the boats and the fire was so severe that one boat with all its men was blown to pieces. A few of the men who waded ashore were entangled in the barbed wire and were shot down as they struggled to get loose. Not a single boat returned to the ships.

One seaman named Lewis Jacobs of the _Lord Nelson_ showed the utmost bravery in this dread hour. Every other man in his boat had been killed or wounded, but he pulled steadily for the beach and then took out the pole to guide the boat to a suitable landing place. He was last seen standing among the dead and dying, going steadily on with his work, carrying out an invasion on his own account. Then he fell to rise no more.

Meanwhile, the _River Clyde_ had been run upon the beach not far from some rocks, and as soon as she came to a stop a terrific fire was directed upon her from the Turkish trenches.

The vessel had grounded in water too deep to allow the men to wade ashore. A bridge was therefore formed with two lighters, but before long it was broken by the strong tide which swung one of the boats out of position.

Several bluejackets faced the heavy fire and went ashore to get the boats into a suitable position. One of them named Charles Williams was in the water for an hour engaged in this difficult task and was then shot down. He was awarded the Victoria Cross after his heroic death.

A number of the Munster Fusiliers now left one of the openings in the side of the vessel, ran quickly down the sloping gangway, and jumped into the first lighter. They could not jump across the space between the two lighters, so some of them leapt into the water.

Many were instantly shot down. A few reached the shore. Others scrambled upon the second lighter which had now been swirled by the current into a still more unfavourable position.

Matters were becoming truly desperate when Commander Unwin leapt into the water, which took him up to the waist, and set to work with a few others to try to make the bridge more useful. Among the little party were two midshipmen named Drewry and Malleson who stuck to their desperate task with a cool bravery beyond all praise.

After working hard for some time, Commander Unwin began to feel the effects of the cold water and was forced to go back to the shelter of the ship. The doctors attended to him, wrapping him in hot flannels, giving him hot drinks and rubbing his limbs to restore the circulation. As soon as he was somewhat recovered, he returned to his work, and was helped again by the two midshipmen who showed a cheery disregard for shot and shell.

Midshipman Drewry was wounded in the head, but, in spite of this, he went on with his work. He made two attempts to swim from one lighter to the other in order to carry a line across the gap, but he was not able to carry out his plan, to his great disappointment. Then Malleson took the line in hand, and swam with it to the second lighter.

This was a piece of very useful work, for a fresh lot of men were now able to reach the beach. Meanwhile, the fire from the Turkish guns was becoming hotter and hotter, but it was now met by a terrific bombardment from the guns of the British warships, including the _Queen Elizabeth_.

More men and still more men came out from the _River Clyde_ and ran down the gangway to the lighters. After a short time the current once more swung the second lighter aside and the line broke. Malleson swam across with the rope, but was not successful in joining up the two lighters. Again he tried, and again he failed.

Meanwhile Commander Unwin had been for a second time through the doctors’ hands in order to have his bullet wounds attended to. When this had been done he came up on deck and saw that a number of men who were still alive were lying helpless half in and half out of the water. He ordered out a lifeboat and set out to try to save them. A few of the men were picked up before the brave commander was obliged to give up his work. He was now almost fainting from weariness and was forced to go below again to be attended by the doctors.

The Turks now concentrated their fire upon the bridge to the shore and any man appearing upon it was at once shot down. Our men were therefore ordered to remain under cover, and they spent the rest of the day listening to the pattering of the leaden hail upon the steel sides of the ship. When darkness had fallen, the troops were able to disembark and found some shelter on the beach as well as in the ruined houses of a village not far away.

ANZAC

This word is worthy of careful examination. It means rather more than most words do, and it is one of the most honourable names in the British Empire.

The word is made up of the initial letters of the following words, all except one which does not greatly matter: Australian (and) New Zealand Army Corps. The name Anzac was given to that part of the coast of the Peninsula of Gallipoli on which the Australians and New Zealanders landed on the same day as the Lancashires made their landing farther to the south. And in time the name Anzacs was given to the Australians and New Zealanders alike. It was a convenient short term for them.

They were a merry lot of men. “We are having an iron time,” one of them wrote home, “we live in an iron ship, sleep on an iron floor, have nothing to eat but iron rations, and now, to crown all, I hear we are commanded by a fellow called ‘Iron’ Hamilton.”

The various operations of April 25, 1915, are known as the Battle of the Landing, and the attack delivered by the Anzacs was by far the greatest of all. The force numbered some 12,000 men and the place chosen for the landing was one of the most difficult on that rocky coast. The assault is one of the most heroic in the records of the British Army. A single body of men seemed to act as one, and won everlasting fame not only for themselves but for the nations to which they belonged.

The landing was to be made with the help of a squadron consisting of five battleships, one cruiser, eight destroyers, a seaplane carrier, a balloon ship and fifteen trawlers carrying supplies as well as a number of transports. Some of the men were carried on the battleships, and to these was given the honour of making the first landing.

The ships left their base on the afternoon of the 24th and steamed all night with lights out. At one o’clock they were all collected about five miles from the place where the landing was to be made. It was a bright moonlight night, which was rather unfortunate, for it gave the sentries on the slopes above the bay a warning which they were not slow to act upon.

At one o’clock the men on the battleships were silently roused and were served with a hot meal. They were very quiet and steady but cheery, and quite confident that they could give a good account of themselves in the coming fight. It was, indeed, a severe trial of strength, skill, and nerve power which lay before these brave colonials. They were not like the Germans or even the British regulars who had been trained for fighting over a long period. Yet these men from the farms and pastures as well as from the towns of the Southern Land had been selected for the post of honour on that great day.

As soon as the meal was finished, orders were given to lower the boats. These included not only the cutters but also the steam picket boats which were to tow them to the beach. In a very short time the men had embarked to the number of 1500 and the boats were towed towards the shore. The battleships were cleared for action and steamed closer in.

It was a few minutes before five o’clock when the first boats drew near to the shore above which towered a lofty cliff with a winding pathway leading from the beach to its right flank. At that moment a light was seen on shore which proved to be a signal, for a few minutes later a rifle volley rang out followed by the sound of a machine-gun, and a number of men in the leading boats fell dead or wounded. The landing of the Anzacs was to be disputed.

This reception was exactly what the men needed to nerve them to their attack. A body of Turkish soldiers was seen advancing to meet them. Without waiting for the word of command they sprang from the boats into the shallow water, and ran to meet the foe. “Their magazines were not even charged,” we read, “so they just went in with cold steel, and I believe I am right in saying that the first Ottoman Turk since the Last Crusade received an Anglo-Saxon bayonet in him at five minutes after five a.m. on April 25. It was over in a minute. The Turks in the first trench were bayoneted or ran away and a Maxim gun was captured. Then the Australians found themselves facing an almost perpendicular cliff of loose sandstone.”[4]

[4] From _Despatches from the Dardanelles_, by Mr. Ashmead-Bartlett (Newnes), with acknowledgments.

Half-way up the face of this cliff was a second trench, from which a steady fire was now pouring from rifle and machine-gun. The face of the precipice was dotted with short bushes and behind each of these pieces of scrub a marksman was concealed. The fire from the enemy was directed not only upon those men who had already landed but also upon those who were now being brought from the transports.

The men at the foot of the cliff threw their packs to the ground, charged their rifles and set out on their desperate climb. In about fifteen minutes they were in possession of the second line of trenches and the Turks were on the run, or rather on the climb, to the top of the lofty cliff. The men were so full of eagerness that some of them pressed too far and were cut off from the main attack.

Meanwhile the battleships were bombarding the Turkish positions and were receiving such a heavy fire in return that the landing was greatly checked. The beach was very narrow and soon became crowded to such an extent that the men got in each other’s way and there were more casualties than there would have been in more open country. But there was no quenching the spirit of the men. One eager Australian fell over a cliff 100 feet high and was picked up little the worse for his fall. A man from New Zealand was seen going down a deep hollow and was warned that there would probably be a mine at the bottom. He laughed and called out, “Then you can catch me as I come up.”

A dressing station protected by sand-bags had been set up on the beach, and when the wounded had been given first-aid they were quickly conveyed to the ships. The men showed wonderful courage and cheerfulness. “I saw some lighters full of bad cases,” wrote one who was there, “as they passed the battleships. Some of those on board recognised our vessel as the ship they had left that morning; whereupon, in spite of their sufferings and discomforts, they set up a cheer which was answered by a deepening shout of encouragement from our crew.”

By the afternoon of that great day the Anzacs found themselves in a strong position above the beach for which they had won immortal fame. Their first task was accomplished. They had invaded Gallipoli, and had fixed themselves ready for the next stage in the stern work, which was not long delayed; for the Turks soon attacked in force, but were unable to move the Anzacs from their position.

SUBMARINES IN THE DARDANELLES

We heard so much during the war about German submarines that many people forgot that we had under-water craft of our own. If the German fleet had come out from the harbours of Kiel and Wilhelmshaven they would have learnt a little about the number and efficiency of the British submarines, as well as about the chivalry of their commanders.

The British submarines had a better chance to show what they could do at the Dardanelles; and some of the bravest deeds of the naval warfare were done in this quarter. Take a large map of Europe and find out the Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmora and Constantinople; and remember that at the time we are now considering a British fleet was lying off the entrance to the straits known as the Dardanelles.

Remember, also, that the strait was strongly guarded on either side by a number of Turkish forts, while mines were laid in the water all around. The distance from the entrance of the Dardanelles to Constantinople is about 230 miles.

One day the British submarine E11, under Lieutenant-Commander Nasmith, set out on a voyage to Constantinople, where there were several Turkish troopships carrying men who were to be sent to fight us in the Gallipoli Peninsula. This little boat had to pass under or round the mine-fields; to dodge the Turkish destroyers; to avoid being detected by the guns of the shore batteries; and to be prepared to spend long hours under water.

All these things were done, and a great deal more, so much, indeed, that it is difficult to believe that one little boat could do so much. It was the means of destroying a Turkish gunboat, two troopships, one powder-ship, and three storeships, while it drove another storeship ashore. Then the plucky little E11 set out for home and passed safely through the most difficult part of the return journey. But even yet its daring work was not completed; for it returned to torpedo another Turkish troopship! The brave and resourceful commander well deserved the Victoria Cross which was granted to him by King George.

The British submarine B11 had an even more adventurous journey in the same quarter. In the month of December of the first year of the war the British fleet was waiting for a fitting time to bombard the forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles; and in order to pass the time of waiting Lieutenant-Commander Norman D. Holbrook set out on a voyage of adventure.

There was a large mine-field at the entrance to the Straits consisting of several rows of mines. The B11 dived under these mines and came safely within the straits. Then a torpedo was fired at a Turkish battleship named the _Messudiyeh_, and in a very short time the vessel heeled over and then settled slowly down. Meanwhile the periscope was sighted from the batteries on the shore as well as by the torpedo boats which were patrolling the Straits, and in a very short time the shells were hissing around it. But it dodged them cleverly, and after sighting the battleship so as to make quite sure that it was really sinking, the B11 set out on the return journey.

It was now so much harried by the Turkish guns from various quarters, that it was forced to keep under water as much as possible. At one part of its journey it was submerged for no less than nine and a half hours. Then the compass got out of order, and the boat was driven about in the strong undercurrents of the Straits. Sometimes the men could feel it grating upon the bottom; then it would be suddenly carried near the surface and every man held his breath while he waited for a mine to go off. But passing through all the dangers, the little craft at last reached “home” in safety, to be given a warm reception by men and officers of the Allied fleets. Lieutenant Holbrook was awarded the V.C. for this daring deed, while every other man in the submarine was given a medal. On the following day the B9 tried to rival the exploit, but was soon detected and was forced to come back.

In one of the actions against the Turks the _Inflexible_ was hit in the foremast by a shell. Several of the men in the control station at the top of this steel tripod mast were badly wounded by the explosion; and those on the deck began to make preparations for bringing the men who had been hurt down from the control.

As they looked upward, they saw to their astonishment that one of the wounded men was already tackling the problem. He had taken on his shoulders one of his comrades who was more hurt than himself and was carrying him down the steel ladder attached to one of the legs of the tripod.

After him came another carrying a second wounded man in a similar manner, and after a painful and perilous descent both the carriers reached the deck in safety. It must not be forgotten that the rungs of the ladder were coated with greasy soot from the smoke of the funnels; and they were therefore by no means secure resting places for the feet of wounded men so heavily burdened as these brave rescuers were.

WARNEFORD AND THE ZEPPELIN

One Sunday night in the early part of June 1915, a Zeppelin airship paid a visit to the East Coast of England. It sailed over a wide area and bombs were dropped in various places. As a result of this visit several people were killed and a number were badly hurt.

About twenty-four hours later, a Zeppelin was sighted on the coast of Belgium by two airmen, one British and the other French. The airship was chased and the British aviator came up with it between Ghent and Brussels.

He dropped bombs upon it which caused the gas in the envelope to explode. The airship was set on fire and fell to the ground and its crew of about twenty-eight men were killed. It is most probable that this was the airship which had just paid a visit to England.

The British airman who did this splendid piece of work was Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford of the Royal Naval Air Service and he was only twenty-four at the time. His machine was a monoplane, and very small compared with a Zeppelin, as can be seen in the picture.

The splendid deed was performed at a height of about 6000 feet above ground. The Zeppelin was flying lower than usual as it was nearing its hangar or shed. This gave Warneford his chance to get above it, and after that his work was a matter of careful aim. It really took only one bomb to fire the envelope, and then there was no hope for the Zeppelin.

The gas in the envelope exploded with such force that it made Warneford’s machine turn completely over.

This somersault in the air emptied one of the petrol tanks; and the airman, righting his machine, saw that he must go down to fill it from the supply kept in another part of the machine. Meanwhile, the bullets from German rifles were flying all round him. He was, of course, in enemy country and near the town of Amandsberg.

In the open country outside of the town he saw a piece of waste land which seemed to be lonely and deserted. Down he planed to this spot and set to work at breathless speed to fill his tank while the Germans were racing to the place to try to capture or kill him.

At last all was ready and he took his seat in the machine. It rose into the air just as a number of Germans came in sight and began to fire at it. But no shot took effect, and the plucky airman made his way in safety to the French lines.

There were many people watching this famous fight in the air, which took place over the town about four o’clock in the morning. Here is the story of the fight as told by one of these spectators:

“The airship was flying over Amandsberg and attempting to escape the two airmen by descending. A great number of civilians watched the fight.

“Obviously, the Zeppelin had already had a skirmish with its pursuers, as it was slightly listing to the left side. Shots were exchanged with the two airmen, one of whom was daring enough to approach close to the airship in an attempt to fly over it.

“After a sudden bold swoop this airman was seen to drop some explosives on the Zeppelin which was at once wrapped in flames. The balloon covering was now fiercely burning, and after some minor reports and one big explosion, the airship dropped upon the convent school of Amandsberg. The nuns tried to bring the children to a place of safety, and two sisters who had rushed into the street with little ones in their arms were badly hurt.

“The Zeppelin crew were all killed and only the framework of the great airship remained. The streets of the town were at once closed, and the people were ordered indoors. The British airman finally disappeared in a north-easterly direction.”

Not long afterwards Warneford was killed while flying near Paris in an aeroplane of a new type which was being tested. It was a sad ending to what promised to be a useful career, but the fame of the young airman V.C. was already made; and boys who love adventure will always be proud to read the story of the first Briton who was able, single-handed, to bring down a Zeppelin.

SMITH AND FORSHAW: TWO HEROES OF GALLIPOLI

Second-Lieutenant Smith of the East Lancashire Regiment was engaged in the fighting against the Turks in Gallipoli. He was in the act of throwing a grenade when it slipped from his hand and fell to the bottom of the trench. At the moment there were several officers and men quite near to him.

Smith shouted out a warning and gave a jump which landed him clear of danger. Then he saw that the other men would not be able to get into cover. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, he jumped back into the trench and flung himself upon the grenade. He was at once killed by the explosion, but the rest of the men were uninjured.

“Possibly,” wrote Smith’s commander to the young man’s father, “he thought he could extinguish it; more likely he gave up his own life to save others from death and injury. Whatever his thoughts may have been, his act was one of bravery such as I, personally, have never heard surpassed.

“There was only one result possible. I am afraid no decoration can make up for the loss of your only son, but the explanation must make you the proudest man in England, when every one reads the story and couples the memory of his name with that old and honoured phrase ‘A soldier and a gentleman.’”