In the five weeks following the abortive naval assault of 18 March, Turkish engineers toiled to turn the beach at Tekke Burnu into a mini-fortress. A belt of wire, three rows deep, stretched almost the entire length of the 350-yd strip of sand. Submerged trip wires were laid just beyond the water’s edge and crude, but effective, land mines were sown on the shoreline. The beach, which varied in depth from 15 to 40 yds, was covered by three short trenches; one on each cliff and a third on the sandy rise which lay in the gully between them. This low ridge was in turn commanded by more Turkish positions to the north and south. According to British reports, the defences also included two machine-gun posts burrowed into the cliff faces ready to enfilade the main wire entanglements. Further inland, two wired-in redoubts were sited to halt any breakthrough in the direction of Hill 138, a Turkish position between W and V Beaches.
Sketch plan showing W Beach, approximately 1 mile west of Cape Helles (Lancashire Fusiliers Annual)
‘So strong were the defences,’ the Official Historian stated, ‘that even though the garrison was but one company (3rd/26th Regt.) of infantry, the Turks may well have considered them impregnable to an attack from open boats.’
The 1st Lancashire Fusiliers, commanded by Maj. H.O. Bishop, were under no illusions about the immensity of the task confronting them. Reconnaissances had clearly revealed the Turkish state of readiness. Furthermore, they knew that the element of surprise, so critical in such a hazardous operation as an opposed amphibious landing, would not be on their side.
At about 6.00 a.m. on 25 April 1915, following a 45-minute-long naval bombardment, the landing operations began at W and X Beaches. Off Tekke Burnu, six groups, each consisting of four ship’s cutters towed by a picket boat, drew away from HMS Euryalus and headed for the shore in line abreast at 50-yd intervals. Crammed in the boats were 672 soldiers. They had been there for ninety minutes, watching the sun rise above the cliffs and waiting for the order to go. All were heavily laden with full kits, including three days’ rations and 200 rounds of ammunition. On the right, A and B Companies, commanded by captains Richard Haworth and Harold Shaw, together with the battalion’s machine-gun section, were to rush the cliff-top trenches and drive inland towards Hill 138 which they had orders to capture. C Company, commanded by Capt. Richard Willis, on their left, was faced with the task of piercing the barbed wire entanglements and capturing the Turkish trenches guarding the centre and left-hand sectors of the beach. They were then to advance towards Hill 114, where they were to link up with units from X Beach. Two platoons from D Company were to accompany Willis’ company as reserves and they would be joined by two tows, from HMS Implacable, carrying the remainder of D Company together with Headquarters Company, including Maj. Bishop and the adjutant, Capt. Cuthbert Bromley.
At first all appeared to go smoothly. Capt. Willis later recalled:
The sea was like glass, but as the picket boats drew off to get into formation our boats heeled over dangerously, and one of the men remarked to the cox, ‘I ’listed to get killed, not to get drowned …’
As the tows got to a safe distance from the ships the shelling began again, the guns lifting their fire as we approached the shore. When the water began to get shallow the picket boats called out ‘Slip’, for the tow ropes to be cast off, and we began to approach the shore under the oars of the naval ratings. There were five to each boat.
Not a sign of life was to be seen on the Peninsula in front of us. It might have been a deserted land we were nearing in our little boats. Then crack! The stroke oar of my boat fell forward, to the angry astonishment of his mates. The signal for the massacre had been given: rapid fire, machine guns and deadly accurate sniping opened from the cliffs above, and soon the casualties included the rest of the crew and many men.
Years later, a former member of C Company who had been in the boat next to Capt. Willis, recorded:
I saw him stand up and everyone in the boats heard him, above the noise of the bullets and the guns, shout ‘Come on, C Company! Remember Minden!’ That was it. Whenever we were in trouble, whenever we looked like going under, the cry ‘Remember Minden!’ brought us back to our senses. Captain Willis could not have timed it better.
According to Willis:
The timing of the ambush was perfect; we were completely exposed and helpless in our slow-moving boats, just target practice for the concealed Turks, and within a few minutes only half of the thirty men in my boat were left alive. We were now 100 yards from the shore, and I gave the order ‘Overboard’. We scrambled out into some four feet of water, and some of the boats with their cargo of dead and wounded floated away on the currents still under fire from the snipers. With this unpromising start the advance began. Many were hit in the sea, and no response was possible, for the enemy was in trenches well above our heads.
We toiled through the water towards the sandy beach, but here another trap was awaiting us, for the Turks had cunningly concealed a trip wire just below the surface of the water, and on the beach itself were a number of land mines, and a deep belt of rusty wire extended across the landing place. Machine-guns, hidden in caves at the end of the amphitheatre of cliffs enfiladed this.
Our wretched men were ordered to wait behind this wire for the wire-cutters to cut a pathway through. They were shot in helpless batches while they waited, and could not even use their rifles in retaliation since the sand and the sea had clogged their action. One Turkish sniper in particular took a heavy toll at very close range until I forced open the bolt of a rifle with the heel of my boot and closed his career with the first shot, but the heap of empty cartridges round him testified to the damage he had done.
Safety lay in movement, and isolated parties scrambled through the wire to cover. Among them was Sgt. Richards with a leg horribly twisted, but he managed somehow to get through.
An astonishing sight was now seen: soldiers on the beach under close fire of the enemy getting out brushes and oil to clean their rifles, a job which would not have been necessary if the company commander’s request for rifle covers had been listened to.
The troops on our left had landed at a more suitable spot, and suffered but little compared with us on the beach, and at length they made it possible for us to advance. Small parties pushed on, scrambled up the cliffs, and gained the heights known as Hill 114, but at the cost of many casualties, for the Turks were stubborn fighters.
They were remarkably good shots, and their grey uniform was hard to distinguish, especially as the water and sand made our glasses useless for about two hours.
My company, what was left of it, reached its first objective, but when I looked back I saw that a lot of men were still lying down below, behind the wire on the beach, apparently waiting for the word to advance. I ordered one of my company to signal down ‘No enemy in sight’, to bring them on, but he evidently thought I was mad, and signalled ‘Enemy in sight’ instead, whereupon L/Cpl. Grimshaw, who was near, laughingly threatened him with extra drill, and he gave the correct signal. But right or wrong, signals did not matter, for I suddenly realised those men would never advance again. They were all dead – four officers and seventy-five men fallen in one line as they came under the fire of the machine guns …
As Willis reported, disaster was only averted by the success of the northernmost landing parties. With the tows bearing down upon the beach strewn with dead, Brig. Steuart Hare and his brigade major, Capt. Thomas Frankland, stood up and, by hand signals and shouting, managed to divert a number of boats towards the left, where the beach was sheltered by the cliff. On landing, Brig. Hare and Capt. Frankland led a small party of men up the cliff. The men, weighed down by their 80lb packs and ammunition, struggled to climb the final steeper section and for a few moments the leading group of officers and their orderlies were left to face a line of Turks 30 yds away, dug in on the clifftop. Taking a rifle from one of his men, Capt. Frankland shot three Turks in quick succession before the rest of the Lancashire Fusiliers scrambled to the top. The Turks fell back an
d Frankland made his way to the right-hand company to urge them to link up with the brigadier’s party. He found there a willing accomplice in the adjutant, Capt. Bromley, a supremely powerful man who had once been a physical training instructor. Bromley appeared to be everywhere that morning; leading small leaderless parties forward, encouraging men to extra exertions and always he appeared oblivious to the enemy’s fire.
At about 7.15 a.m. Brig. Hare was severely wounded while leading a reconnaissance in the direction of X Beach. By then the beach was being subjected to sporadic fire and Capt. Frankland, having assumed temporary command of the brigade, set about securing the right flank and pushing inland towards V Beach, from where there was no word. He found Capt. Haworth reorganizing the remnants of his double company.
Haworth’s attempt to storm the right-hand cliff had been swept away by the explosion of what was initially thought to have been a Turkish mine, but was in fact a naval shell. Now with only fifty men, he was joined by twelve survivors from B Company’s first wave and Capt. Thomas Cunliffe who, having been unable to land his machine guns, had swum ashore under a hail of bullets. Together with Frankland and Capt. Mynors Farmar, the brigade staff captain, this force set off under cover of the cliffs to attempt to take Hill 138 from the south. The attack, hindered by faulty maps, was halted by a belt of unbroken wire and it was here, at about 8.30 a.m., that the gallant Frankland was killed. As the party sheltered behind a low bank, any forward movement appeared doomed to failure.
Close-up sketch plan of W Beach showing the Turkish defences (Lancashire Fusiliers Annual)
It was then that Pte. William Kenealy took matters into his own hands. He had already distinguished himself as a runner, delivering messages under heavy fire, and now he decided to risk almost certain death in an attempt to cut a way through the wire. Knowing that anyone raising their heads above the bank would attract a hail of fire, he crawled forward towards the wire. His efforts were all in vain, but the attempt was no less brave for that. Still more remarkably, Kenealy returned unscathed.
Capt. Haworth and the survivors remained in their precarious position together with Capt. Farmar and the remnants of the brigade’s headquarters staff until reinforcements arrived during the late afternoon, when the two redoubts were carried.
Elsewhere, all of the Lancashires’ objectives had been gained, although at a terrible cost. The following morning the battalion mustered only sixteen officers and 304 men out of a total of twenty-seven officers and 1,002 men who embarked for Gallipoli. Capt. Willis’ C Company had endured some of the heaviest fighting on the beach and during the capture of Hill 114. His company was reduced to four officers and eighty-three men. Among them was L/Cpl. Grimshaw, a company signaller, whose survival that day was little short of miraculous. Speaking about that terrible baptism of fire fifty-five years later, he estimated that almost half of the men in his boat had been killed or wounded before they reached the shore including all the naval oarsmen. ‘People to the right and left of where I was sitting … were killed or wounded,’ he recalled. Wading ashore, weighed down with 70lb of pack and equipment, his rifle held above his head, he recalled taking shelter behind a slight mound on the beach from where he saw Willis attempting to bring order to the chaos. ‘The thing was to try and control the show,’ he said. Lines of bodies were heaped about the wire and the foreshore. ‘We couldn’t do anything about the wounded at all,’ he added. ‘We had to leave everything.We didn’t know if they were dead or wounded and even if we had known we couldn’t stop. You had to get on with what you were doing.’ Scrambling up the cliffs, he saw a few stray Turks falling back to prepared trenches a couple of hundred yards inland. ‘We rushed those trenches and cleared the people out,’ he recalled. Grimshaw, who was prominent in this charge, added: ‘I didn’t actually use my bayonet. Just pressed the trigger with some effect. It’s either yourself or the other chap.’ His pack and water bottle were riddled and two bullets had struck his cap, shattering his badge. Yet in spite of all this, he had remained calm and cheerful, frequently braving the intense close-range fire to send back vital and coherent messages.
There were many similar examples of great courage. Sgt. Alfred Richards, mentioned in Willis’ account of the landing, had scarcely reached the beach when a burst of fire almost severed his right leg. Realising that to remain behind the barbed wire was to court annihilation, he called on his men to follow him forward. Dragging his mutilated leg, he crawled through the wire and, despite the terrible pain, continued to shout encouragement as they advanced to assault the Turkish positions beyond. Another C Company NCO, Sgt. Frank Stubbs, displayed great leadership in urging men through the wire and on up the cliff. He was killed later in the morning as he led the way towards the crest of Hill 114, his company’s final objective.
Of the officers, captains Willis, Bromley and Haworth had all shown outstanding gallantry and leadership. Bromley, who landed with Headquarters Company, perhaps did more than anyone to get the men through the wire and up the cliffs. L/Cpl. Grimshaw, who witnessed Bromley’s tireless endeavours on W Beach, later stated: ‘His personal example was unequalled by anyone. His bravery was superb, and he was admired by the whole battalion … He was one of the first men to reach the top of the cliff.’
On 15 May Maj.-Gen. Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston (29th Div., GOC) wrote to GHQ: ‘The landing is a deed of heroism that has seldom been equalled and I strongly recommend that the gallantry of the deed may be recognised by the bestowal of six VCs on the two most distinguished officers and the four most distinguished NCOs and men’, namely captains C. Bromley and R.R. Willis, sergeants A. Richards and F.E. Stubbs, Cpl. J. Grimshaw and Pte. W. Kenealy. The six had been nominated by the battalion’s commanding officer, Maj. Bishop, after consulting ‘the officers who happened to be with him at the time and who did not include either of the officers awarded the Cross’. Hunter-Weston stated:
Their deeds of heroism took place under my own eyes … Where all did so marvellously it is difficult to discriminate, but the opinion of the battalion is that Bromley and Willis are the officers. and Stubbs, Richards, Grimshaw and Kenealy are the NCOs and men to whom perhaps the greatest credit is due. As the representatives, therefore of the battalion, as well as for the deeds of great gallantry performed by themselves under my own eyes, I strongly recommend these officers, NCOs and men for the VC.
The recommendation was endorsed by the GOC, Sir Ian Hamilton, but it foundered amid War Office bureaucracy and the rules governing the award of the Victoria Cross. Not until August was the matter resolved, when a second recommendation was dispatched under Article 13 of the Victoria Cross warrant which allowed for the balloting of units for the award of up to four VCs. According to Hunter-Weston, a vote had been held among the surviving members of the battalion which resulted in Willis being selected by the officers, Richards by the NCOs and Kenealy by the other ranks. The latter had wished to nominate Grimshaw in place of a second private, but this was not allowed and only three names went forward.
On 23 August 1915 the London Gazette announced:
The King has been pleased to award the Victoria Cross to the undermentioned officers, non-commissioned officers, and men in recognition of their most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty in the field:
Captain Richard Raymond Willis,
No 1293, Sergeant Alfred Richards,
No 1809, Private William Keneally, all of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers.
Their joint citation read:
On 25th April, 1915, three Companies and the Headquarters of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers in effecting a landing on the Gallipoli Peninsula to the west of Cape Helles were met by a very deadly fire from hidden machine guns, which caused a great number of casualties. The survivors, however, rushed up to and cut the wire entanglements, notwithstanding a terrific fire from the enemy, and, after overcoming supreme difficulties, the cliffs were gained and position maintained. Amongst many very gallant officers and men engaged in this most hazardous enterpr
ise, Captain Willis, Sergeant Richards and Private Keneally have been selected by their comrades as having performed most signal acts of bravery and devotion to duty.
Captain Haworth received a Distinguished Service Order and, in November, the London Gazette belatedly announced the award of a Distinguished Conduct Medal to L/Cpl. Grimshaw. However, matters did not rest there. Troubled by what he considered to be an injustice done to Bromley, Stubbs and Grimshaw, Brig. Owen Wolley-Dod, himself a Lancashire Fusilier who as Hunter-Weston’s general staff officer had landed at W Beach shortly after noon on 25 April, continued to press for the case to be re-examined. His efforts were eventually crowned with success. On 15 March 1917 the London Gazette announced the award of VCs to all three men. The citation accompanying their awards was the same as that published for Willis, Richards and Kenealy.
By this time Bromley was dead and Grimshaw, by then a sergeant, could scarcely believe the reports cancelling his DCM for a VC. He told a journalist: ‘I thought you were joking … I remember at the time that a vote was taken but never expected to get the VC, especially as the DCM was given me.’
The heroes of Lancashire Landing, as W Beach became known, soon entered the war’s popular mythology and have since become enshrined in British Army folklore as the ‘Six VCs before breakfast’. As with so many sayings, it is not strictly accurate. For while the landing was indeed carried out at ‘breakfast time’, regimental records clearly state that the men ate their breakfast before disembarking from the Euryalus. Still less attention has been paid to the men who actually won the six VCs.
VCs of the First World War Gallipoli Page 3