by Peter Hart
The next couple of days were not marked by a bold thrust for Achi Baba. Instead, there was a period of reorganisation and consolidation. The French were brought back from their covering landing at Kum Kale and given the position on the right of Helles adjoining the Dardanelles, ironically rendering themselves cruelly vulnerable to fire into their rear by Turkish batteries across the Straits. Once they were finally sorted out, the Allies began to press forward on Achi Baba during the First Battle of Krithia of 28 April, only to find progress first stalled and then utter defeat staring them in the face, during Turkish night counter-attacks launched by fresh reserves on 1 and 3 May. These attacks were crude: rushing forward in massed hordes, the Turks were attacking in the dark primarily to avoid being flayed by the guns of the fleet. Nevertheless they almost broke through, although the casualties they suffered reduced them to a defensive posture. At this point the Turks were still not properly dug in across the Peninsula, having just a string of outposts and defensive positions.
Desperate to get his stalled campaign moving, Hamilton brought in his reserves and sanctioned a series of attacks for 6, 7 and 8 May which together are known as the Second Battle of Krithia. There was nothing of tactical subtlety here. Every time the Allied troops felt their way forward they came under scything fire. At last, at 19.00 on 8 May, Hamilton and the commander of the 29th Division, Lieutenant General Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston, accepted the inevitable. Over the three days they had suffered some 6,500 casualties for the gain of at most 600 yards. It was a disaster. Hamilton was forced to appeal, cap in hand, to Kitchener for more troops; this would prove the pattern for the campaign. Every time Allied reserves arrived they were soon matched by Turkish reinforcements and swiftly frittered away in attacks that had little or no military justification.
By the start of June 1915 there was a fully fledged trench system criss-crossing the Helles Peninsula. The British response was to use some of the new assault tactics already being employed on the Western Front in their next attack, the Third Battle of Krithia on 4 June. Essentially this was intended as a ‘bite and hold’ to break the deadlock by seizing the three defensive lines held by the Turks, which would then allow the next assault to be made on Achi Baba direct.
We scramble up and over the top into a withering machine gun and rifle fire with shrapnel bursting overhead. Many fell back into the trench before they got properly over, we spread out as we went and charged with fixed bayonets through No Man’s Land which is all shell holes and deep crevices. F. Royle6 on my left was killed by my side, also the next man on my right. I felt as though I was alone for the moment until I saw a Turk about to throw a bomb at a bunch of chaps on my left. Kneeling, I took a steady aim and fired twice rapid, he ducked down sharp, but whether I hit him or not I do not know. I ran on soaked in sweat and white with dust. We dashed on and on over barbed wire and shell holes, jumping gullies, through thick gorse or wild thyme, knee deep; this was on fire in many places and we were choked by smoke and dust. The Turks were keeping up a rapid rifle and machine gun fire, and as we got nearer threw bombs amongst us, also shrapnel bursting overhead, we were being mown down like corn. We kept on and on with our artillery lengthening their range as we went and helping us all they could. Suddenly we let out a wild yell all along the line, then we were on their parapet. It was now all hell let loose and then we were down amongst them in their trench. It was a shambles and the slaughter was terrible on each side, and here we were at a disadvantage as the enemy were using bombs with deadly effect and we were being blown to pieces. This drove us into a frenzy of rage and we went at them like madmen. They nearly drove us out as they were three to one, but we rallied and at last we drove them out and had captured the trench and many prisoners.7
Private Jack Gatley, 1/7th Manchester Regiment
The 42nd Division had done exceptionally well, but on the right the French CEO was charging towards disaster, baulked by the redoubts clustered on the Kereves Spur and around the head of the deep ravine of Kereves Dere. This failure opened the flanks of the RND and the 42nd Division. The Turkish reserves launched counter-attacks over the next couple of days, swarming down the gullies and at one point appearing to be about to break through themselves. For all the slaughter, only a meagre few hundred yards of British gains were retained. It was evident that, as on the Western Front, neither side could break through at Helles.
By now Hamilton and Hunter-Weston had lost sight of the real objective – to break through to seize the Kilid Bahr Plateau which overlooked the Narrows. They were fixated on Achi Baba, which in reality was just a stepping stone. It had tactical significance at Helles, dominating the skyline and allowing the Turks to see everything above ground across the whole Allied sector, but it had no view over the Narrows. Also, the ground that lay between it and the imposing bulk of Kilid Bahr was perfectly configured for defence. At Helles fantasy had overcome reason.
Their failure at the Third Battle of Krithia caused Hunter-Weston and the French CEO commander, General Henri Gouraud, to introduce a more refined version of ‘bite and hold’ by attacking on a very small frontage to allow the maximum concentration of guns. The French attacked first, at the head of Kereves Dere on 21 June, while the British followed up on 28 June with an attack on Gully Ravine. They were encouraged by their partial success, but hampered by the dreadful shortage of guns and shells. This was not a temporary problem. The British munitions industry could not keep up with demand and priority was being given to the BEF on the Western Front. At Gallipoli, the Allies were indeed making small advances, but they were using a disproportionate amount of their ammunition stocks to do so. When they tried to launch a two-staged attack by the recently arrived 52nd Division on 12 and 13 July, some limited progress was made but it did not justify the casualties incurred. Helles was becoming a hopeless nightmare. The embittered commander of 52nd Division summed it up perfectly.
It seems to me that the fighting of this battle was premature and at the actual moment worse than unnecessary – I submit that it was cruel and wasteful. The troops on the Peninsula were tired and worn out; there were only two Infantry Brigades, the 155th and the 157th, that had not been seriously engaged. It was well known to the higher command that large reinforcements were arriving from England and a grand attack was to be made at Suvla. Was it not therefore obvious that the exhausted garrison at Helles should be given a fortnight’s respite and that the fresh attacks from that position should synchronise with those at Suvla and Anzac? I contend that the Battle of July 12–13th was due to a complete want of a true appreciation of the situation. If the conception of the battle was wrong the tactics of the action were far worse. The division of the attack of two Brigades on a narrow front into two phases, no less than 9 hours apart, was positively wicked.8
Major General Granville Egerton, Headquarters, 52nd Division
Egerton laid bare the stupidity of these attacks. Hamilton had indeed been promised massive reinforcements but had decided to deploy them away from the layered Turkish trenches of Helles.
THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THE GALLIPOLI CAMPAIGN began with all the strategic indecision and lack of realistic planning that had been the hallmark of the first fumbling stumble to disaster on 25 April. Hamilton had requested substantial reinforcements back on 17 May, but the advent of the Coalition Government and the subsequent reconstitution of the War Council as the Dardanelles Committee caused a considerable delay in the decision-making process. When the committee finally met on 7 June the decisive voice proved to be that of Winston Churchill, who, although deposed as First Lord of the Admiralty, was still an influential member of the committee. In a superb example of political sophistry, he urged a major new investment of troops and resources in bringing the Gallipoli campaign to a successful conclusion, after which the entire resources of the Entente would be directed against the Germans on the Western Front. In consequence it was agreed that three more divisions should be sent to the Peninsula: the 10th, 11th and 13th Divisions from Kitchener’s ‘New Army’. When i
t was realised that Hamilton’s force had already degraded to such an extent that these would merely restore the balance it was subsequently agreed to send the 53rd and 54th Territorial Divisions. In allocating these troops to Gallipoli no proper consideration was taken of the poor state of their training and leadership, the continuing crippling lack of artillery and shells or, indeed, the situation on the Western Front.
Hamilton had many options before him in deciding where to deploy his new forces. After due consideration he decided to use one division in bolstering an ANZAC Corps plan to launch a left hook from that diminutive bridgehead. First there would be a diversionary attack on 6 August on the Turkish Lone Pine trenches on the Anzac right flank. Then, when it was dark, assaulting columns would march north. After all identified Turkish outposts had been swept away, the New Zealand Brigade would climb up Rhododendron Ridge on to Chunuk Bair behind the Turkish lines. They would then drive down into the rear of the Turkish trenches in conjunction with a frontal attack by the Australian Light Horse Brigade across The Nek timed for 04.30 on 7 August. The second assaulting column would move further along the coast before the 4th Australian Brigade would move inland and ascend on to Hill 971, the highest point of the Sari Bair Ridge. This plan for a night attack across some of the most tortuous terrain in the Peninsula by a combination of exhausted veterans and untried new troops was spectacularly optimistic. Hamilton and Birdwood were relying on wish-fulfilment rather than a realistic assessment of what was – and wasn’t – possible.
At the same time Hamilton had fixed upon a new landing in the Suvla Bay area. The 11th Division, supported by the 10th Division, would land on the beaches on the night of 6 August and rapidly deploy inland to seize first the foothills and then the commanding heights of Kiretch Tepe and Tekke Tepe that overlooked and dominated the whole of the Suvla Plain. Then, if possible, they were to assist in the ANZAC Corps operations up on Sari Bair Ridge. Hamilton made the worst possible start when he resolved to deprive Lieutenant General Sir Bryan Mahon (already present and leading the 10th Division) of the chance to take command of the IX Corps that would be created to carry out the Suvla operations. Hamilton had got it into his head that Mahon was not up to the task, but the only available general of sufficient seniority to outrank Mahon was Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Stopford, a man in poor health, semi-retired and acting as Governor of the Tower of London. He would prove a disastrous choice. The intentions of the original Hamilton plan were soon watered down by Stopford, who feared the consequences of advancing inland without proper artillery support. The plans lost all focus and became over-complicated as he obsessed over Turkish defences that barely existed. Soon, any idea of a rapid rush for the hills disappeared and the primary concern became establishing a safe base. Yet nothing was done by Hamilton to hammer home the real priorities. Stopford was allowed to drift along unchecked. To Hamilton the ANZAC Corps thrust was at the very heart of his plans; on that would depend success or failure. What they would do next had barely been considered: once again the Turks were presumed to be teetering on the edge of the abyss and success would trigger abject surrender.
The great adventure – it could hardly be called a campaign – would begin on 6 August. Symbolically, it would start with one more sacrifice made by the men of the VIII Corps at Helles, who were required to throw themselves against the Turkish trenches to ‘pin down’ the garrison and prevent the Turks from marching to Anzac. The initial plans were remarkably similar to the earlier disastrous July attacks: they were to attempt two highly localised attacks to concentrate their artillery resources for maximum effect. The results were similar, too. Any temporary successes were soon negated as the Turkish counter-attacks threw the British back across No Man’s Land at a cost of nearly 3,500 casualties. The Turks not only held them back with ease but were able to deploy forces to assist at Anzac. All told this was a disaster.
Then it was the turn of the Australian 1st Division which launched a heroic assault across the bare No Man’s Land between the trenches at Lone Pine. The fighting took on a raw savagery as both sides fought to the death in covered trenches.
I was trying to get my breath when from the right end of the traverse a big fellow of a Turk came bolting along the trench. He took no notice of me because close at his heels were two Aussies and as he passed me I raised my rifle and let him have it fair in the middle of the back, almost at the same time as the other two. He went down like a pole-axed bull and the three of us then followed on down the trench to be met by some Turks who came at us suddenly and savagely. I lunged at the nearest, but my bayonet stuck in his leather equipment and for the moment I was helpless. Instantly he raised his rifle to shoot me, but before he could there was an awful bang alongside my ear and he crumpled up at my feet. My mate behind had put his rifle over my shoulder and had shot him but that discharge nearly blew my head off. A dark head appeared round the traverse. I immediately let fly with my rifle from my hip and missed. In reply came two cricket ball bombs. One was kicked by one of my mates round a corner, but the other was behind us. I had a moment or two of uncontrollable paralysing fear – to be utterly helpless with that thing sizzling within a few feet of me. I flattened myself in the side of the trench, clawing at it with my fingers and certainly thought my last moment had come. By some miracle none of us was seriously hurt.9
Private Charles Duke, 4th (New South Wales) Battalion, AIF
Over the three days of the fighting seven VCs were awarded. In the end the Turkish front line trenches were safely incorporated into the Australian lines. But the ground gained was negligible and as a diversion the attack had been only partially successful.
The main assault forces began to creep out of Anzac at 21.00 that night. At first everything went well as the Turkish outposts were easily over-run. Then everything went wrong: the 4th Australian Brigade and 29th Indian Brigade became lost, stumbling around harassed by Turkish snipers, following blind alleys and unable to locate the designated route. Dawn found them still in the foothills, and nowhere near Hill 971; they never would be. The New Zealand Brigade was also soon lost in the tortuous valleys and complex ridges on the approach to Rhododendron Ridge. They fell hopelessly behind schedule, failing to reach Chunuk Bair in time to launch the attack in concert with the Australian Light Horse Brigade. So it was that at 04.30 the Light Horse went over the top into legend on The Nek. They had to go just sixty yards across a narrow col about the size of a tennis court. It might as well have been miles.
There was the din of rifles, machine guns and bombs. On mounting the parapet just in front of us was a double row of Turks with bayonets fixed, firing at us. Most of the first wave were down: either killed, wounded, or had taken cover. I was soon laid out with a couple of bullet wounds in my body and a graze on my head. I could not move and was eventually dragged back into our trenches, while the Turks seemed to pause for a few minutes, realising that they had stopped the attack.10
Lieutenant Andrew Crawford, 8th (Victoria) Light Horse, AIF
Up on Rhododendron Ridge the tired New Zealanders were finally approaching Chunuk Bair, but it was too late. The Turks were already there; not in great numbers, but enough to stop the New Zealanders in their tracks. By 08.00 it was evident that they would get no further that day. The ambitious plans had fallen to pieces under the combined pressure of impossible terrain, tired troops, timid commanders and a robust Turkish defence.
For the next few days the fighting raged on. Much is made of the temporary occupation of Chunuk Bair and Hill Q but these positions were isolated, the troops outnumbered, in cruelly exposed positions facing superior Turkish forces and living on borrowed time. Colonel Mustafa Kemal led a dawn attack at 04.45 on 10 August which swept them away. At the end of the day the British were back in the foothills, or perched below the Turkish positions on the dominating heights. The Anzac offensive had been an abject failure.
The Suvla landings started well on 6 August. The 32nd and 33rd Brigades of the 11th Division got ashore unopposed from their
new armoured lighters on B and C Beaches south of Nibrunesi Point. Amidst some confusion, the 6th Yorkshire Regiment over-ran the Turkish positions at Lala Baba – an attack significant because it was the first made by troops of Kitchener’s Army.
On arriving at the base of Lala Baba I ordered a charge and we ran up the hill. About three-quarters of the way up we came upon a Turkish trench, very narrow and flush with the ground. We ran over this and the enemy fired into our rear, firing going on at this time from several directions. I shouted out that the Yorkshire Regiment was coming, in order to avoid running into our own people. We ran on and about twelve paces further on, as far as I can judge, came to another trench; this we also crossed and again were fired into from the rear. I ordered the company to jump back into the second trench, and we got into this, which was so narrow that it was quite impossible for one man to pass another, or even to walk up it unless he moved sideways; another difficulty was that if there were any wounded or dead men in the bottom of the trench it was impossible to avoid treading on them in passing. There was a little communication trench running from right to left behind me, and whenever I shouted an order a Turk, who appeared to be in the trench, fired at me from a distance of apparently 5 or 10 yards. I had some difficulty in getting anybody to fire down the communication trench in order to quiet the enterprising Turk, who was endeavouring to pot me with great regularity, but I eventually got him shot.11
Major William Boyd Shannon, 6th Yorkshire Regiment
Although they suffered considerable casualties Lala Baba was soon cleared.
At A Beach, which was actually inside the horns of Suvla Bay, the situation was very different. Here the invading troops would have been better off in the old rowing boats, as the deeper draught of the lighters soon caused them to run aground in the rapidly shoaling waters – leaving the men trapped up to 200 yards offshore. Eventually, by hook or by crook, they all got ashore, but a great deal of time had been lost and the units were disrupted. With the exception of the 11th Manchesters, who resolutely set off along the Karakol Dagh and on to Kiretch Tepe, the rest of 34th Brigade milled about on the plain – a pointless pursuit in which they were soon joined by the 32nd Brigade. At no senior level of command, from lieutenant general to major, was anyone able to wrest control of the situation. A mish-mash of orders, counter-orders and disorder hamstrung progress; they all feared responsibility, everyone was scared of making a mistake and hence made the greatest mistake of all by doing little or nothing. So time trickled away and soon the day had all but gone. Instead of capturing the commanding heights of Tekke Tepe, it was only with a last-ditch effort that they managed to capture the lowest of the foothills, Chocolate Hill, before nightfall. The callow troops had not excelled themselves but there were many reasons: negligible leadership and non-existent communications; their own lack of experience and ingrained military skills; the dreadful shortage of water. But the most important reason for the British lack of success was the vibrant and skilful defence of the Turks. Under the command of a Bavarian cavalry officer, Major Wilhelm Willmer, just three battalions of infantry and a few field guns had managed to thwart the progress of a whole division. A controlled defence had allowed the Turks to cull the slowly advancing British, firing until the last moment and then melting into the scrub ready to fight again. Even as they did so, their reserves were on the march up from the Bulair Isthmus, where their 7th and 12th Divisions had been bivouacked. The British were in a race, but they didn’t seem to know or care.