by Peter Hart
Most of the men that tried to follow Geddes were killed or wounded, but his orderly, Private William Flynn, was still close behind him as he jumped out of the lighter.
He said, ‘Well, come on, over we go!’ We fall into the sea, of course I lost him! I come up once or twice for fresh air and I drifted to my right and I came up by this strip of rock. It was piled high with dead. Some of the other company instead of running across the gangway which they saw was useless, they must have jumped into the water and managed to get to this rock but eventually got killed – the majority of them. I managed to just crawl on to the rock – I was exhausted – I thought that my knees had bullet holes in them all over where they’d been on the bottom like! They were still pumping lead into all the bodies, any movement. We managed to scramble on to the shore, we had about 8 or 9 feet to go and we got behind a bank about 5 foot high and we were quite safe there.23
Private William Flynn, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
They were going nowhere; the Turks were making sure of that. Just after 07.00, Captain Geddes began to edge his men towards the right to try to gain shelter under the lee of the Sedd el Bahr fort. From here he hoped to either outflank or over-run the Turks. But the Turks were ready and easily thwarted them. Geddes himself was lightly wounded when a bullet struck his shoulder; he would stay ashore for another thirteen hours before finally seeking medical treatment aboard the River Clyde.
Meanwhile, Unwin and Williams were reaching the limits of their physical resources as they struggled to hold the lighters together. After about an hour (although the exact chronology is difficult to establish), Williams’ luck had run out.
Thinking I could be more use elsewhere, I asked Williams if he could hang on without me, but he said he was nearly done and couldn’t. Just then a shell fell alongside us, Williams said to me, ‘Whatever is that?’ I told him and almost immediately I heard a thud, looked round and Williams said, ‘A shell has hit me!’ I caught hold of him and, as I couldn’t let him drown, I tried to get him to the lighter.24
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
In attempting to save Williams by heaving him aboard the lighter Unwin was forced to let go of the rope. He lacked either the weight or the strength to hold the lighters on his own, so it made sense to try to rescue his gallant comrade. However, his efforts, with the assistance of Drewry, would prove in vain, for Williams very soon expired from his wounds and Unwin himself collapsed with exhaustion. It was a miracle that he too had not been hit. He was dragged back aboard the River Clyde and placed safely below in his cabin. Meanwhile, Drewry had taken over the thankless task of sorting out the tangled lighters.
The first lighter was covered with dead and wounded and the spit was awful – the sea around it for some yards was red. When they got ashore they were little better off, for they were picked off many of them before they could dig themselves in. They stopped coming and I ran on board into No. 1 and saw an awful sight – dead and dying lay around the ports where their curiosity had led them.25
Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde
Drewry got back into the water and continued to try to create a bridge of lighters between the River Clyde and the beach. In this he was greatly assisted by Lieutenant John Morse and Midshipman Wilfred Malleson, who had brought up the third spare lighter, which was being towed on the collier’s starboard side. An astonishing sequence of bullets, heroism, snapped ropes, contrary lighters and amazing escapes ensued until at last a viable connection to the beach had been built. At times the confusion was almost farcical, as Midshipman Maurice Lloyd found when he too became involved.
I saw Lieutenant Morse. He called to me to lend him a hand in securing a lighter. So we hauled the lighter astern, giving the stern a kick out so as to meet the other lighters. We both jumped into the lighter; but as she was moving, Morse said: ‘Have you secured the hawser?’ My reply was, ‘No, Sir, I thought you had!’ So again I jumped out on to the hopper, before the lighter swung out, and secured the hawser round a bollard. Just in time, as I got another bullet through my lung, I spun round and fell down, managing to get more or less under cover.26
Midshipman Maurice Lloyd, HMS Cornwallis
In spite of it all they managed to re-establish a passable link with the beach. Thus, at about 09.00, Lieutenant Colonel Tizard, thinking that the Turkish fire was dying down, ordered Major Jarrett, commanding Y Company of the Munsters, to have another try. His wishful thinking was swiftly exposed as the Turkish fire swelled up in murderous fashion and, although several Munsters got ashore, it was at great expense as more dead and wounded swelled the heaps of bodies on the lighters and foreshore. One last attempt would be made when Carrington Smith, prodded by Hunter-Weston – who was still unaware of the severity of the situation – ordered a party of 2nd Hampshires, under the command of Captain Caryl Boxall, to try to again at around 09.30. Yet again the Turkish fire control was superb: quiet when nothing much was happening, but bursting into vicious life whenever a serious attempt was made to resume the landing. Few of the Hampshires got even as far as the lighters and when the tenuous bridge on to dry land was once again cut the attempt was given up as suicidal. Boxall himself was mortally wounded. The senior officers on board the River Clyde decided that they must stop this hopeless slaughter.
I now saw that it was impossible to carry out the original plan of attack. My reasons were that the crossfire brought to bear from the fort and the village on the right and from the trenches and works on the left was so heavy that nothing could live on the ground about the beach. Men who left the cover of the bank for an instant were killed. I went back to Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington Smith, who was on the upper bridge watching the fight, and told him that I considered that we should hold on and wait till dark, when I thought we should stand a better chance of getting the men out without such heavy casualties. He agreed.27
Lieutenant Colonel Henry Tizard, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
But complex military plans, once committed to paper, tend to have a life of their own. Major General Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston and his staff were marooned aboard the Euryalus around the corner off W Beach. They knew there had been a delay, but had no idea of the scale of the disaster at V Beach. Although the 1st Essex were diverted from V Beach to W Beach, this was more to reinforce the efforts of the 1st Lancashire Fusiliers than a reflection of what was happening at V Beach. The bulk of the second wave was still intending to land under Sedd el Bahr as planned, although many of the boats had been destroyed during the first landing. Yet enough survived to allow Brigadier General Henry Napier, his headquarters and elements of both the 4th Worcesters and the 2nd Hampshires to board rowboats, often still reeking with blood, and head for the beach.
The pinnace has started and is going to run us ashore alongside the River Clyde. We were being run in on the right side of this ship, but, had it not been for the Colonel [Carrington Smith] of the Hampshires, we would all have been drowned and never have the chance of getting on land. He shouted from the bridge, ‘For God’s sake go round the other side!’ And we did. You see, the Turks were waiting for the boats just there – and blowing them to pieces.28
Private George Keen, 4th Worcestershire Regiment, 88th Brigade, 29th Division
Despite Colonel Carrington Smith’s best efforts, Brigadier General Napier still misunderstood the situation and seems to have thought that the men choking the decks of the lighters could be led ashore. He jumped aboard the lighters and into history. Someone shouted down from the River Clyde, ‘You can’t possibly land!’ to which Napier replied, ‘I’ll have a damned good try!’ 29 Napier, followed by some of the Worcesters, started to run across the lighters.
I saw three wounded Irishmen, wounded and hanging on to a small boat; one was shouting, ‘Oh, by Jesus save me!’ I gave the General a leg-up on to the lighter, then his Brigade Major. Then I was pushed up and the deck of the lighter was covered with dead men. We started over the deck when the Gen
eral went down, he never spoke. Then the Major went down but he raised himself on one knee and said, ‘Carry on, men!’ Then he was dead.30
Private Cecil Jeffries, 4th Worcestershire Regiment, 88th Brigade, 29th Division
Among those behind them was Private George Keen.
We were following the General. He got to the third boat and was killed; the Brigade Major followed him and he got killed. Our Major said, ‘This is too risky!’ and he got out of the way in the little boat. That caused us to stop and we all lay in the lighter, myself lying on another fellow. I was sorry for him but he said, ‘Never mind!’ There we stayed till night came.31
Private George Keen, 4th Worcestershire Regiment, 88th Brigade, 29th Division
As the wounded Midshipman Maurice Lloyd lay trapped aboard the steam hopper he had good reason to curse these newcomers causing an increase in the damnable Turkish fire. He managed to drag himself to the rear of the hopper, where he was almost out of sight. Almost, but not quite.
I saw twenty soldiers making a rush across the hopper from a lighter. The Turks turned a machine gun on to them and killed the lot. Unfortunately for me, I, too, came under this fire. The only bit of me that was exposed was my ankle, which caught another bullet. I was rescued by a seaman from the Hussar – Able Seaman Samson. He came out of the engine-room and carried me below. Here I stayed, knowing very little of what was going on, only hearing from time to time the sounds of the rushing feet of men who made attempts to get ashore.32
Midshipman Maurice Lloyd, HMS Cornwallis
In all the mayhem Brigadier General Napier’s body slipped overboard, never to be recovered. His courage was commendable, but his simple mistake cost the 88th Brigade their commander just when they needed him most. Shortly afterwards, at 10.21, General Sir Ian Hamilton, a distant witness from the Queen Elizabeth which had joined in the renewed bombardment of the beach defences, signalled to Hunter-Weston to tell him that there was no hope at V Beach and that all further troops should be diverted to W Beach.
The situation settled down into one of grim stalemate. The survivors of the Munsters and the Dublin Fusiliers huddled down behind the low sandbank where they were partially protected from the Turkish fire, but with no chance of making a successful advance through the barbed wire and off the beach area. One of them was Lieutenant Cuthbert Maffett, who had already been slightly wounded in the head; even so, he was faring far better than most of his fellow fusiliers.
I lay under cover for the greater part of the morning, and tried to get into touch with some of the others. After a bit I crawled along towards the fort at Sedd el Bahr and there found Captain French. He had been hit in the wrist with a bullet which had driven bits of his wristwatch into him. I lay under cover with him for a time. I then went to the left of the beach to see if I could collect any men there, but all I found were either wounded or dead. At the part almost under the lighthouse I found a boat that was nearly all submerged, and in it were some of our machine gunners under Lieutenant Corbet;33 they were all dead as far as I could see and the machine guns useless. I then went back to where Captain French was lying and spent the rest of the afternoon under cover beside him. We had a man near us with a pocket periscope, which we put over the top of the bank from time to time to see if the Turks were coming down on us, but there was no move on their part. We had no food or water with us, as the sea water had destroyed it all. The whole beach was strewn with dead and there were very few hale men amongst us. One had to keep down the whole time.34
Lieutenant Cuthbert Maffett, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Then the Mediterranean, that supposedly tideless sea, began to demonstrate that there could be a small tidal range that could make a fatal difference.
There were some of our chaps hit while in two feet of water, and could not move, so when the tide started to come in it was awful to see those chaps getting drowned and roaring for someone to save them.35
Private Denis Moriarty, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
By this time, Unwin’s enforced rest in his cabin had given him a chance to at least partially regain his strength and he went back on deck. He cut a curious figure, for, with his uniform still soaked from his earlier exploits, he was dressed as if for a day’s yachting in a white shirt and flannel trousers. The moaning and wailing of the wounded proved more than he could stand.
I got a boat under the starboard quarter as far from the enemy as I could get. Taking a spare coil of rope with me, I got some hands to pay out a rope fast to the stern of the pinnace I was in, and paddled and punted it to the beach, eventually grounding alongside the wounded. They were all soaking wet and very heavy, but I cut off their accoutrements with their bayonets or knives and carried two or three to the pinnace, but as her side was rather high out of the water, I’m afraid they were none too gingerly put on board. Still they were very grateful. I could not pick up any more, so I got on my hands and knees, they got on to my back and I crawled along to the pinnace. Four more, I managed like this. I found a man in his trousers only, alongside me, he had swum ashore to help me, his name was Russell and he was one of the RNAS. We carried one man down together and then he was shot through the stomach. I tore up my shirt and bound his wound a bit and got him into the pinnace. I was again beginning to feel a bit dickey so I got into the pinnace and told them to haul me aboard. On the way across somebody came alongside in the water and wanted to know why I was going back. I replied because I could do no more – and I really couldn’t. I was 51!36
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
The man who questioned Unwin was almost certainly Sub Lieutenant Arthur Tisdall. While the exhausted Unwin collapsed back into his bunk, Tisdall and Petty Officer Geoffrey Rumming carried on the work of rescuing the wounded.
The wounded were still crying and drowning on that awful spit. Tisdall took a boat, one of the Clyde’s sailors and one of the men – Rumming. Hiding behind the side of the boat they walked and swam it back. I saw one of the wounded stretch out his hand to stroke Rumming as he hung on to his side, the most pathetic thing I have ever seen.37
Lieutenant Commander Josiah Wedgwood, No. 3 Squadron, Royal Naval Armoured Car Division
Leading Seaman James Parkinson was among the men helping the gallant Arthur Tisdall. Eventually they realised that the situation was becoming hopeless.
The boat was leaking very badly and one of the last three was drowned in the boat bottom. We were then called back by one of the ship’s officers who stated it was sheer madness to go on, and if we did not return on board and under cover, anything we did would not be recognised. And if we did carry on then we should probably be dead men because the Turks had by now got a machine gun trained on us. We had no alternative than to obey orders and the boat was getting full of water.38
Leading Seaman James Parkinson, Anson Battalion, RND
The bobbing rowing boats were also making their way as fast as possible away from that accursed beach. Commanding one of them was Midshipman Forbes, who, after landing the half company at the Camber, had brought a second boatload to the main V Beach. He escaped by the skin of his teeth.
I made the men sit in the bottom of the boat on stretchers and back for all they were worth, whilst I sat on the bottom of the boat in the stern-sheets and steered. Several bullets passed over my body, and one grazed my right arm. Of the seamen left, one was now hit in the thigh, and another in the arm, so the coxswain took an oar. At last, after what seemed an eternity, we began to glide off the beach, and Harper, who was hit in the arm, now took an oar again, and helped matters greatly; and after being nearly run down by a life-boat, we backed out to where the picket-boat was. The picket-boat came out and picked us up, towing us straight to the Aragon, a hospital carrier. I took a comprehensive look round. There were two or three soldiers in the boat, one nearly dead and the others wounded, and with one was a little brown dog, who sat beside his master. Three of my boat’s crew were wounded badly and a fourth s
lightly. Grose was the most severely injured, and he only lived an hour after being hit.39 Smith was shot in both legs, and I bandaged him up, and did the same for Sawyer, after which I turned my attention to the soldiers. The boat was in a sad state, being about 18 inches deep in blood and water, with eight bullet holes in her bows and the same number aft. When we at last got to the Aragon I hunted all over the ship for a doctor, but could not find one for three-quarters of an hour, and it was 2 hours before my wounded were all inboard.40
Midshipman Haydon Forbes, HMS Cornwallis
So the day wore on. Over a thousand men were still cooped up on the River Clyde; while about 200 men were crouching behind the small bank that was all that lay between them and eternity. Their only hope was help from the other landings. Thus it was that in the mid-afternoon, there was a frisson of excitement on board the River Clyde as British troops were seen pushing out from W Beach. Unwin was standing alongside Colonel Carrington Smith when they were sighted.
He cheered and so did the troops. He came up the ladder with me to go to the bridge. I went on to the upper bridge thinking he was following me and saw him standing on the lower bridge which had no protection, looking towards the beach with his glasses. I shouted to him to come on the upper bridge and I saw him fall shot through the mouth.41
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
Another senior British officer had paid the penalty for underestimating Turkish marksmanship. It was a lesson that did not seem to penetrate some officers caught up in the drama.
I remained on the upper bridge with Williams and Doughty Wylie staring at the beach, not a Turk did I ever see – I thought I saw one once and took a rifle and fired at it – and an old vulture flew out of a tree. I could not keep Doughty Wylie from unnecessarily exposing himself over the iron screen, so I gave it up at last.42
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
Upon the death of Carrington Smith, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Tizard of the Munsters took over command of the troops. The brusque Unwin was by no means impressed with Tizard’s style of command.