by Alan Bardos
Sir George watched the trawlers slowly retreat in dismay. They’d hardly made a dent in the minefield and were running home. What was worse, all the boats were coming back. So the chances were Swift had survived.
Sir George went back to studying the jagged rock formation of the peninsula. The muzzle flashes were starting to mesmerise him and blurring time into a series of bright intense flickers through the smoke.
‘Oh my god, they’ve hit Inflexible,’ Keyes voice cut through Sir George’s trance.
The news came like a hammer blow to de Robeck. The loss of another battleship was a disaster. Sir George was glad to see that the Admiral maintained his reserve in the close confines of the conning tower.
‘What do you think’s causing it, Roger? Are they that good a shot or are they launching long range torpedoes at us from the shore?’ de Robeck asked.
‘There are reports of them, sir. I believe Admiral Limpus recommended long range torpedoes when he was the Turk’s naval adviser. And the area has been swept for mines,' Keyes replied.
‘There could also be floating mines down from the narrows on this bloody current,’ de Robeck said. The truth was he had no idea what was sinking his ships. It could be mines, torpedoes or fire from the shore batteries, or all three.
HMS Irresistible had started to swing out of control, a hapless target for the Turkish gunners, while her crew gathered on the deck waiting to be picked up.
‘This is doing no good. We’re just throwing away good ships. Issue the recall.’ de Robeck added in a whisper, ‘the whole thing has been a disaster.’
‘We’ll come back tomorrow and finish them off,’ Keys said. ‘One more good shove and we are through.’
‘We will press on,’ de Robeck agreed.
Chapter 37
Breitner helped clear the guns. He was dirty and exhausted but keeping up with the men. Everyone knew they had to make the gun serviceable. The other batteries along the Straits were taking the brunt of the assault and they had to get back in the fight.
‘You can pack it in boys, they’ve had enough for now,’ Dolly called down from the observation post. The gunners looked bewildered for a moment, and then let up a wild cheer. All around the fort their cheers were echoed.
Dolly put his hands up to quieten them. ‘That’s enough – they’ll be back. Sergeant, get the men fed, then be back here in an hour. There is a lot to be done before tomorrow.’
Breitner climbed up to join Dolly on the parapet to watch the Allied ships retreat. The romantic view was now a scene of devastation, covered in oil slicks and burning wreckage, but the field belonged to the defenders.
‘Quite a mess, isn’t it?’ Dolly said, indicating their fort. The damage looked tremendous, vast craters dotted the ramparts and the parade ground behind them. Some of the buildings had been totally smashed. ‘All that effort and they only managed to knock out one of our guns.’
‘How many casualties did we take?’ Breitner asked.
‘Reports are still coming in, but by all accounts, they’re light. We’ve been very lucky.’ Dolly shrugged. ‘If they’d pressed on, who knows how long the ammunition would have lasted. We are down to the last of our long range high explosive shells.’
‘How are the rest of our stocks?’ Breitner wondered.
Dolly laughed. ‘You can never have too much. I’ve requested more, but I doubt that it will get here in time.’
‘Are there enough shells to stop them if they come back?’
‘I’m not a clairvoyant, my dear Laszlo, but one thing I can tell you is that they still have to clear the minefields before they can get through. Regardless of how many ships they sacrifice, and there’s not much hope of them doing that until they stop using fishing boats as minesweepers. Or there will be plenty more surprises for the Allies.’
‘That was certainly quite a surprise,’ Breitner said, remembering the shock he felt when the Bouvet sank. ‘Do you think it was our hit or a mine that sank her?’
‘Oh, it was definitely our hit. We must have damaged one of her magazines, but she probably struck a mine as well.’ Dolly smiled with a gunner’s pride. ‘A week or so ago we noticed that the Allies liked to use Erenkeui Bay to circle around, after they’d finished their attacks. So an associate of mine in the Kaiserliche Marine and a Lieutenant Colonel Geehl, went out in the middle of the night and laid a vertical line of mines adjacent to the Asian shore. Right in the path of any allied ships that chose to take that route.’
‘And the Allies didn’t detect the mines?’
‘If they swept the area, they missed them. They’ve been running reconnaissance flights, but the Colonel laid the mines at a depth where they can’t be seen from the air.’ Dolly looked up at the greying sky as if the spotter planes had come back. His face showed real concern for the first time that day.
‘A storm’s going to break soon, we need to get the repairs finished before it starts.’ Dolly called down to his men. ‘Hey, you lazy bastards, forget about stuffing your faces, there’s work to do.’
***
Sir George Smyth managed to suppress the urge to vomit. The churning in his stomach had been temporarily soothed by a morning of gin fizz, but his head was spinning frightfully. He’d been buffeted and bashed about for days, by a storm that had made living on ship an absolute hell and any future attempt to force the Straits quite impossible.
Even in Mudros harbour on a ship the size of HMS Queen Elizabeth Sir George found it intolerable. He longed to take up his position on the Headquarters staff, with its promise of dry land and privacy. Sir George had dragged himself off his sick bed, to attend a conference of the top brass in Admiral de Robeck’s stateroom.
It was vital that he show his face and make his report to Sir Ian Hamilton, before he completely abandoned him in the belly of the beast.
Admiral de Robeck didn’t look like he was faring any better since the last time Sir George had seen him. The ravages of the storm and the disaster of the attack on the Straits had taken their toll. Out of the 16 Allied battleships that had taken part in the action under his flag, three had been sunk. Along with the Bouvet that went down during the battle, HMS Irresistible had eventually been sunk by Turkish gunfire and HMS Ocean had hit a mine while trying to help Irresistible and sank later that evening. Three other capital ships were so badly damaged that they couldn’t take part in any further operations.
Sir George couldn’t understand how one of the most powerful fleets ever assembled, had been stopped by a few barrels of high explosives under the sea and some obsolete guns. What was worse, he could see no way now for the Allies to extricate themselves from the situation without causing a series loss of face. Jeopardising its position with the neutral countries in the Balkans and Mediterranean.
Looking at the assorted Admirals and Generals and their respective staff, who’d gathered to discuss the next steps, Sir George knew that they were fully committed to continuing the campaign. There was no other choice.
De Robeck opened the meeting. ‘Gentlemen, as I’m sure you are aware, we met with considerable resistance when we attempted to force the Straits. We suffered a 33 percent loss of our operational battleships. Despite our best efforts, the shore defences have not been destroyed, nor their guns silenced. The minefields are hardly touched and will remain so until we can deal with the hidden batteries. For that reason, I have concluded that the only way the Straits can be forced is through a combined operation with the army.’
’So the elephant and the whale will no longer battle it out tooth and nail,’ Hamilton quipped brightly. ‘This looks a tougher nut to crack than when I first received my orders from Lord Kitchener. It is clear that if we are to have any chance of success, the army must land in force, in a deliberate and progressive military operation to clear the shore batteries. It is also clear that our recent intelligence was bad. The Turks are much better supplied than we were led to believe.’
Sir George was sure that Hamilton looked at him, but he assumed as a rep
resentative of the Admiralty rather than as someone who had provided incorrect information.
‘I intend to land on the southern tip and the western side of the Gallipoli peninsula. It is impossible to land sufficient troops in the Straits to assault the guns directly.’
Sir George was annoyed that Hamilton had drawn his conclusions before he could make his report. He’d put himself in harm’s way for no reason.
De Robeck and the navy contingent sounded their agreement. They had made their sacrifice and now it was the army’s turn.
‘Landing troops against prepared positions has never been attempted before. Unfortunately, we have lost the element of surprise. We must therefore create our own sense of surprise and take a bloody good jump at the enemy, landing right on them with both feet.’
Roger Keyes slapped the table approvingly. ‘Hear-hear.’
‘In essence, my intention is to throw the enemy off balance though a series of faints and dummies, to mask the real landings. Creating so much confusion that the Boche won’t know whether they’re coming or going.
‘I need time to plan such a landing. I therefore propose we delay any further operations and make preparation in Alexandria while a base of operation is established on Lemnos.’ Hamilton turned to de Robeck.
‘Agreed. The First Lord will not be happy about the delay, but the Admiralty will side with the decision of the men on the spot,’ de Robeck said closing the meeting.
Sir George was astounded. Between them de Robeck and Hamilton had just changed the whole nature of the campaign, without consulting London. He could well imagine Churchill’s reaction to the ending of naval operations and the delay in any further action, but that was no longer Sir George’s concern. He was clear on what his role should be as he approached Hamilton. This was now the place where reputations would be won and lost. ‘Sir Ian, might I have a word?’
‘Oh Smyth, I thought you’d run away to sea.’ Hamilton said.
‘I have been aboard the Queen Elizabeth at my station, Sir Ian, and have made a number of observations on the inner defences of the Straits. Might I say I am in total agreement with your findings for the coming landings,’ Sir George said as formally as he could while the world swayed around him. ‘The Straits are quite impracticable…’
‘Yes, well never mind that now, you better fall in with us. There’s work to be done and we’re still abysmally short-staffed,’ Hamilton said cheerfully, and Sir George became overwhelmed with relief. Unable to control himself any longer, he made his excuses and started to push through the crowds to the lavatory.
‘Peculiar chap, reeks of gin,’ Sir George heard an aide comment. ‘Vile drink, only fit for whores and sailors.’
‘He should feel right at home where we’re going then,’ Hamilton said jovially. Sir George didn’t care. He was off the sea monster. It was all so desperately unfair that he’d been reduced to this by Swift and his inability to transact a simple bribe.
***
Esther Weisz held her dignity while Talat Pasha smiled slyly. His strong face a perfect façade of calm as he exhaled the disgusting stench of Turkish tobacco into his study.
‘Excellency, I am here on behalf of the British government.’
Talat planted his wrists firmly on his desk in response, letting her know that he was not subject to the will of the British Government. The mood of the whole city felt wonderfully light now that the imminent threat from the Allied fleet had been averted. Esther therefore did not find it surprising that Talat was no longer interested in making a deal, of any kind.
‘I have been asked to convey the apologies of the British government for any inconvenience caused by the earlier negotiations.’
‘Now they have been defeated they send you here to negotiate for them,’ Talat said, letting his distaste show.
‘As we are acquainted and I assisted with the previous negotiations, it was thought convenient to use me.’
‘I see, you were simply expedient to the will of my enemies, Miss Weisz.’
Esther ignored Talat’s manner and persevered. ‘Would you be willing to meet with the British representatives, Excellency?’
‘Please, Miss Weisz, how could I ever trust the British Government to honour any future terms after they went back on our previous arrangement?’ Talat stared with dark, shark-like eyes and kept his huge wrists planted on his desk.
‘I've been instructed to tell you that the British are willing to meet any price you care to name,’ Esther said.
‘Yes, I'm sure, now they will offer me the world.’
Esther held his stare. She was obliged to see this sham through. ‘I can assure you that their intentions are genuine. This offer comes directly from the British Cabinet.’
Talat lost patience and stood up. ‘Miss Weisz, I understand that you are doing well out of your railway concession and I imagine that you would wish to continue to do so.’
He left the rest of the threat unspoken and opened the door. It had been a humiliating audience, but she’d had to try for dear Laszlo if nothing else.
Chapter 38
Sir George was appalled by the depravity of his Headquarters office. The revolting decor was a far cry from his refined Chancery office in the Paris Embassy.
The premises even lacked proper sanitation and the stench of sewage was barely masked by carbolic soap. There was of course no electricity and the building was lit by candles stuck on scrap paper. Sir George hoped that would at least give a suitably gothic atmosphere to the interview he was about to conduct and put his guest on edge.
No matter how disgusting he found his present conditions, that paled in comparison with the task he was about to perform. Sir George would however put his personal feelings aside, for the greater good, nothing short of his career was at stake.
He signalled to an orderly and Johnny Swift sauntered in, under guard. Sir George was glad to see that at least his devil may care attitude had been ruffled by his time away.
‘Welcome to Alexandria, Swift,’ Sir George said graciously and signalled for the guard to leave. ‘I trust you are in good health after your recent experiences – do you need to be fed?’
Swift ignored Sir George’s question and instead looked at his office, taking in the smeared and stained mirrors on the ceiling, and the erotic frescoes on the walls that graphically displayed buxom wenches in all manner of compromising attitudes. A stench of corruption and cheap scent became all the more apparent.
The candlelight flickered on the defiance in Swift’s eyes. ‘Sir George Smyth, my, how the mighty have fallen. I knew it must have been you who had me brought to Egypt. And now here you are in navy uniform, something must have gone very badly wrong with your scheming?’
‘When a man of singular genius and vision is born on this planet, it is obvious that a wall, no a league of fools conspire to frustrate him.’ Sir George was pleased with his analogy. ‘But you can be sure I mean to re-establish my position and more.’
Swift roared with laughter. ‘I’ve heard something very similar to that before. My old House master was fond of the saying. Apparently, it’s attributed to a distant ancestor of mine and describes a predicament I completely sympathise with.’
Sir George gasped. He’d forgotten that it was a quote from Jonathan Swift, the writer. And now this Swift was attempting to mock him with it.
‘It is small wonder you pester my wife, attempt to steal from me and wreck my career. I have everything a gutter rat like you envies and desires. I am your superior by every definition of the word.’
‘Even if that were true, Sir George, you have no authority over me now. I’m in the army and you’re, under somewhat diminished circumstances, in the navy.’ Swift glanced suggestively around the room and Sir George got the impression that he was enjoying himself.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Swift, you still have those charges hanging over your head. I believe it was something to do with aiding and abetting the enemy in time of war, which surely must be a capital of
fence and I am still in possession of your blue court martial form.’ Sir George didn't see the need to tell him those charges had been quashed by order of the First Lord of the Admiralty.
Sir George didn’t feel particularly inclined to follow Mr Churchill’s orders, especially today. Hankey had taken the time to inform him that the cabinet had asked ‘Blinker’ Hall to reopen negotiations with the Turks. The revival of his scheme could have restored his career, but of course the offer had been rejected.
Swift’s amusement began to vanish, as he realised the significance of what Sir George had said. ‘We had an agreement.’
‘Which you haven’t honoured,’ Sir George always enjoyed the simple pleasure of exercising power over his subordinates and the fact that he was directly contradicting Messrs Hall, Hankey and Churchill added greatly to the thrill.
‘At least allow me to brief you on my mission, before you determine that, Sir George.’ Swift’s petulance was starting to fade.
‘No need for that, Swift.’ Sir George hadn’t spelt out exactly what he wanted Swift to do in Constantinople and that excellent forethought now gave him the opportunity to move the goal posts. ‘You failed, is there really any need to rake over it?’
‘Failed, Sir George?’
‘What else would you call it? The Turkish government weren’t bribed, they are still ardently fighting on. Thanks to your mishandling of the situation we lost three battleships trying to force the Straits,’ Sir George roared. He also saw no reason to tell him that Constantinople had long been promised to Russia and thus the whole conspiracy had been doomed to failure from start to finish.
‘I did get Talat Pasha to the negotiating table.’
‘And nothing came of it. You have clearly not fulfilled the terms of our agreement. I see no other choice but to have you returned to your regiment.’