Part 20

An aeroplane crossed directly over us at 4.15 this morning, coming from the S.W., probably Smyrna. It was flying at a moderate height, and was quite visible in the dim light. After completely crossing the harbour and taking careful note of our shipping, it turned and dropped a bomb at something about the harbour entrance. And all this happened without a single shot being fired by us--like our watchful authorities!

July 29th.--To-day I had a very enjoyable tramp with Stephen to the top of a hill, then to Rosapool, which is the only place near where one can quench one's thirst with bitter beer, or even the local sweet wine. All shops are strictly forbidden to sell either, and military police are everywhere on the prowl. Still the trade goes on, a Greek can never refuse money, he will sell his soul rather than miss the chance of making a penny. Our usual place of call is kept by a very knowing and intelligent Greek, but he was from home to-day--gone to Varos, we were told, to buy beer. The son, a boy of eleven or twelve, was in sole charge, a keen little chap as ever lived, with a genuine Greek eye for business, but a fine and intelligent boy, and by taking a seat in the shop for fifteen minutes and threatening to spend the day if necessary, he was at last persuaded to produce a couple of bottles of beer from Salonika, which we found to be really good. The boy has a smattering of English and French, and says he has been at school. I have never seen any sign of a school in any of the villages so far. He says "the English soldier drink, drink, he no good," and shakes his head, as though the national curse would end in our losing the war. We discovered in a corner four barrels of mysterious looking stuff that attracted flies. These were full of cheese floating in water, little more than stiff curd, but palatable, and this along with biscuits and beer made an enjoyable little lunch. Then we set off for "home," Stephen carrying a kilo of cheese, I with a bottle of beer inside my shirt, as a very small treat for the other fellows.

July 30th.--Stephen, Dickie, and I set off at 9.30 to have a day's enjoyment at Varos, a village we had heard a good deal about. The day was scorching but we covered the 6 miles, via Lychkna, at about 3-1/2 miles an hour. In the last-mentioned village we were studying a notice on a house door when we discovered a nicely dressed woman beside us, evidently regarding us with some interest, and, what was most unusual, with a smile on her face. "Are you English?" said Stephen. "No," she replied, "but I have been in England." "What part?"--answer "America". She went for her husband, who, she said, would give us beer, although she admitted it was forbidden, but he was hard as adamant and absolutely refused, saying "He cared for the notice" we had been reading. This vowed dire punishment on all who dared to supply anyone with alcohol. We shortly afterwards reached Varos, with its twelve windmills all in a row. This being in French occupation there is no prohibition for the British, so we searched out a suitable place for a cooling drink, and chose a very interesting spot in the village square. All the shops are somewhat alike, bare, black rafters, with earth or stone floor, and in this particular one a flock of swallows had their nests in every niche in the ceiling. Each of us had a bottle of beer on the pavement, alongside a French sentry whose sole duty was to see that no Frenchman had a drink. He seemed to think that it was unfair that his countrymen were not allowed to quench their thirst, so he defied the law by having a drink with us, and allowing every Frenchman who made the request to enter and have his big water-bottle filled with water--but really with red wine, a whole litre of which they could buy for sixpence. Delicious wine it was, although rather sweet.

We had very interesting talks with several of the younger men, who had all been in America, but had been recalled by their Government lately, when there were signs of Greece taking the field, which, according to our informants, she would do in September. All we spoke to seemed very desirous to have a blow at Turkey, they wished the Turk turned out of Europe. I had an idea there were no schools here, but I was told every village had its two schools. Young children were taught together, but as they grew up the sexes went to different schools, and education is compulsory to the age of fifteen. All are taught to read and write English. This is due, our man told me, to Alexandria being their greatest mart.

We had coffee, real Turkish coffee, at another place, where we were attracted by a curious advertisement. It was an oil painting of a Scotch lassie in kilt and plaid, dancing with a jug of foaming beer above her head, and alongside her it was announced that they sold "tea, coffee, and milk". Stephen at once wished to buy it, but the terms were exorbitant. To make Turkish coffee you put a teaspoonful of ground coffee in a little pot with an equal quantity of sugar, then run in about two ounces of boiling water, and push this into smouldering charcoal until it boils. Along with this is served a large tumbler of ice-cold water, which you sip time about with the coffee.

Before we could get Dickie away from Varos he insisted on being photographed by Stephen, astride a huge cask in front of a shop, but the cask refused to keep steady--so Dicky asserted, although to all appearances it was most solidly fixed to a substantial stand. Plainly Dickie was feeling weak after his long walk.

July 31st.--Dickie much stronger to-day. I accompanied him to H.M.M.P. "Aragon" to get some money from the army cashier. We lunched on board and had a glorious meal, everything to eat good, excellent cider with ice, and comfortable lounges in which to smoke. Such things are almost unthinkable after our simple--very simple--fare on Gallipoli. I sat between two New Zealanders who had come over from Anzac last night. One of them said they were only 10 yards from the Turks' trench in one part of their line. The other day a New Zealander shouted across, "Do you want any jam this morning?" "Yes," said the Turks from the depths of their trench. "How many of you are there?" "Eight," was the reply. "All right, here's one pot of jam," and a pot of real jam was thrown over. The next morning the same proceedings were gone through, and the eight got together to get their jam. But this time the pot was filled with nitroglycerine and the Turks were blown to pieces. We are now using hand grenades from home, but till just lately when we had to retaliate on the Turks, who took to using deadly grenades, ours were made hurriedly of empty jam tins. These were filled with nitroglycerine mixed with pieces of old iron, such as shrapnel bullets and pieces of burst shells which we all collected--and most deadly weapons they proved, if a Turk got one in the stomach it simply blew him in two.

Word came in the early hours of last night that we had to prepare for our return to Gallipoli on Monday August 2. No one seems actually sorry, we feel that we have got all the good out of this place that is to be had, and the sooner we are all in our places the sooner will the war be over. We had much wind and dust in the morning, the wind falling later when it became uncomfortably warm. We had few flies in our camp at first, but they soon found us out and became as trying a plague as in Gallipoli. The Kaffirs say God made the bees, and the Devil made the flies.

August 2nd.--We left our camp in Lemnos at 12.15 and marched in a solid cloud of dust to Australian Pier, where we had to wait in the grilling sun for another hour before we got off to the "Abessiah," of the Khedivial Line, which sailed at 4.15, taking a long time to manœuvre before she got her head towards the entrance of the harbour. We had a good afternoon tea of crisp toast and real butter, likely our last respectable meal for many a day.

As we passed through the shipping the old familiar cry of "Are we downhearted?" came from some of the shiploads of fresh troops. There was but a feeble reply from our men, very unlike their shouts as we passed through Malta on the way out. We could not raise a cheer now-a-days, we are still too tired in spite of our rest. We feel a lot of desperate men, prepared to go back and face the worst if need be. We passed a British and French submarine just inside the boom guarding the harbour.

Before midnight our ambulance was transferred to a mine-sweeper and landed at V. Beach, leaving myself and twenty-one men behind to look after the baggage, which is always landed at W. We had a weary night of it, the trans-shipping of our heavy goods with fifteen mail bags which we picked up just as we were leaving Lemnos, being a big job. On coming round to W. Beach we were told we would have to remain where we were till 7 o'clock, or perhaps later.

August 3rd.--It is now 6.30 a.m. and the captain and crew are still sound asleep, at any rate not a soul is stirring.

We overlook our old Beach, which looks as forbidding from the sea as it is in reality. A few minutes ago I watched a Taube drop a bomb beside our Ordnance Stores, another near the C.C.S., and a third a little further on. What has come of that French monoplane whose purpose was to chase such visitors? At 7 we transferred to a pinnace, and after much bother about baggage we reached our familiar dug-outs about 8. On our way up from the Beach, we passed the Signal Station which was a heap of ruins. A shell fell on the roof two days ago, killed six men outright, and wounded ten, one of these afterwards dying. The numerous recent shell holes in the road and elsewhere showed that the Turks had not been idle in our absence. The 88th F.A. beside us had several casualties, one day losing ten mules and three another, with one man wounded.

August 4th.--It is twelve months to-day since war was declared by England on Germany. The number of men slaughtered in that time should be an easy record in the whole history of the world.

We are ordered to relieve the 88th F.A. at their dressing station near Pink Farm on the West Krithia road, and I walked out in the morning to view the place and to see what extras it would be necessary for us to take with us. I found Whitaker there with thirty men. Towards evening Fiddes and I came out with thirty-two men, and we are now in our dug-outs, which are really part of an old trench. It is a narrow bedroom but airy. We have a stretcher or two as a roof to keep the sun out, but with their huge blood stains they do not form an artistic ceiling.

It is now 10 p.m. and having come 2 miles nearer Achi Baba I had to go out and study what was doing. The usual all-night rifle fire goes on; roars occasionally from the batteries near us; Asiatic shells I can hear exploding over at V. Beach; star shells are going up from our lines, and the French, but theirs are superior to ours. Ours are merely rockets, theirs have parachutes which open when the rocket reaches its highest point, and they remain practically stationary for a considerable time.

We are in a very exposed position and have been warned that we will be sniped at once if we show a light. A few stray bullets have come about us, and I could wish that my parapet was a trifle higher, and I am, moreover, doubtful whether my candle light is not reflected through the roof stretchers which have a wrong tilt. But I will risk both dangers to-night, and will heighten my wall by daylight.

The Achi Baba guns shelled W. Beach rather furiously to-day, and in the afternoon a large number of shells fell in the harbour.

August 5th.--Had a quiet day at Pink Farm (in some of our maps this is called Saliri Farm). In the forenoon, our water-cart not arriving when expected, I had a long hunt for a well where we could draw a small quantity of water, but it was with great difficulty we got it, every well being reserved for some particular unit.

We are on the eve of a big battle. To-morrow the front of Krithia is to be captured at any cost. We must get on and the cost must no longer be counted. In preparation for this there has been much ranging by all the batteries, to which the Turks feebly replied. We have no right to have our dressing station where it is, we have dumped ourselves down, and have erected our largest Red Cross flag, in front of several closely packed lines of reserve trenches, which is contrary to the rules of warfare, and if we get shelled it is our own lookout. To-day these trenches swarmed with men, and four shells were fired at them, the first just grazing the trench we are in. In the same way two submarines lie off the coast, close to the C.C.S. on one side and the hospital ships on the other, hence shells are continuously dropping in the former, but for this we cannot blame the Turk. So far, all are agreed that the Turk has not only put up a valiant fight, but a straight one, and if he continues as he is doing it will be better for him when the day of reckoning comes round.

August 6th.--When sitting at dinner with Fiddes word reached us that Kellas had been killed. Such a blow to us and to all who knew good and gentle Kellas. Curiosity had frequently led us both into positions of danger where we ought not to have been, and I always noted how fearless he was. To-day he had been along a deep communication trench, along which wounded were to be carried in the action we knew was about to take place, and he had been viewing the ground, and while standing at the extreme end of this trench a sniper had caught sight of the group he was standing in and a shot laid him low. About an hour after this sad event I had orders to take his place in The Gully. As the fight was to begin at 2 p.m. I had little time to get into my place, at least three miles distant. I set off at once to our advanced dressing station at the Zigzag, three-quarters of a mile up The Gully from Aberdeen Gully.

To-day's battle has been a most bloody affair, wounded beginning to drop in at once. As often happens, out of our four first cases three were wounds in the left hand--one a bullet through the centre of the palm, another was minus the first phalanx of his fore finger, the third minus another finger. All these were undoubtedly self-inflicted. We are bound to notify all these suspicious cases to their C.O.'s and until a guard is sent for them we retain them under a guard of our own men. If a hand is found blackened it of course shows that it was done at very close quarters, but to avoid this a glove or bandage is applied before firing.

I was kept very busy and had no time for food during the rest of the day. The wounds were particularly severe, and very few had single wounds, many having four to six.

August 7th.--The Turks failed to make their usual counter-attack last night, though firing never ceased. I worked for nine hours without one minute's halt, and by night felt very tired. I lay down on a stretcher and tried to get a little sleep, but got none. The snores of my neighbours, the groans of a few wounded we had retained over-night, and the death rattle of two dying men beside me were sufficient to banish sleep.

Two of our battalions have each lost 700 out of the 900 they went into action with. We have gained very little ground; we took trenches and lost them. The long interval from the last fight to the present gave the Turks time to dig trenches almost proof against shell fire, so that when the bombardment began they retired back to these, knowing there could be no assault on their front trenches by the infantry while this lasted.

Yesterday our army made a fresh landing which we hear was most successful, one Division landing at Anzac, the other a short way beyond on fresh ground. Our casualties we are told were two, another report says five, so that it was practically unopposed. Our attack yesterday and during the night kept the whole of the Turkish army concentrated here. Looking at it in this light some think our losses were not excessive.

Yesterday I spoke about three cases we suspected to be self-inflicted. A guard took these away to-day, and they are to be court-martialled to-morrow. Our fourth case also came in just as the action was beginning. A zigzag path comes down a steep cliff behind us, and down this came a man at full gallop, and I thought he was coming to warn us that the Turks were using gas, but, instead, he threw himself on the ground and yelled and kicked like an infant, and for about an hour nothing could calm him. It was a simple case of funk, quite a common ailment. A Tommy was sympathising to-day with another who was severely wounded and he replied, "I don't care a damn, I did for the bloke who shot me". That is the sort of men we want in the army.

August 8th.--Two Divisions were landed at Suvla Bay, beyond Anzac, and it is said a third Division will also land there. They are said to have made good progress inland, on their way to Maidos, and if they succeed in cutting the Turkish line of communication Achi Baba is likely to be evacuated--so it is said, but the Turk has already given us more than one surprise--we shall see.