by Peter Hart
General Sir William Robertson, Imperial General Staff
Monro and Birdwood, who had been forewarned about a likely evacuation, had already commenced planning and progress was rapid. Logistically they knew what to do. But could they get away with it again with the Turks up on Achi Baba peering down on everything they did?
The plans were all but identical to those used in the evacuations of Anzac and Suvla. There would be a long Intermediate Stage during which the Helles garrison would be thinned down from 35,000 men and 127 guns, followed by a quick Final Stage (the evacuation of the last 17,000 soldiers and thirty-seven guns) planned for the night of 8 January. It was accepted that six old French guns and one British 6″ gun could not be removed on the final night and would have to be destroyed.
Once again the ruse of silent periods was employed to trick the Turks into exploring forwards into No Man’s Land. Thus in the lead-up to New Year’s Eve the Helles garrison deliberately allowed their fire to trickle away to a nothing.
The Turkish sentries kept on firing occasional shots as usual, but as the night wore on their rifles spoke at longer intervals, and towards midnight scarcely a sound disturbed the still air. One of our guns, stationed not far behind Wigan Road, kept firing for short periods at long intervals. It was always the same gun that spoke, but the Turkish artillery made scarcely any effort to reply to it, and the monotonous sound it made only served to render the silence more acute. Only too ready to fall asleep on other nights when the noise of rifles and shellfire always prevailed, I found it impossible on this particular night to let sleep steal over my eyelids, and there were many other tired soldiers near me who were in the same state. And so we lay more or less awake the whole night through. The night seemed as if it would never end. In the almost intense stillness the senses became exceptionally acute, and one had the feeling that something was going to happen. As it was, nothing happened. Unable to sleep, I lay and smoked, and several times I went out of the dugout into the trenches and looked around. The darkness shrouded everything and the silence of the great night had clearly cast a curious spell upon the imagination. I was looking up at the stars above me when suddenly a man lying on the firestep of the parapet said in a low voice, which almost startled me, ‘Do you think Johnny Turk will come over?’8
Lieutenant William Sorley-Brown, 4th KOSB, 155th Brigade, 52nd Division
Nothing happened that night but the next night the British introduced a cunning variation when at 00.25 on 1 January every possible man along the whole line opened fire with five rounds rapid while the artillery blazed out. Unable to discern a clear pattern, the Turks were confused. They were even nervous that the British might be about to launch an attack on their lines.
It had been thought that it would be easier to organise and control the evacuation procedure if the soldiers concerned were all of one nationality. Thus it was decided that the French would be withdrawn entirely and the Colonial Brigade duly departed on the evening of 1 January 1916. Behind them the French left only their artillery batteries and a small party of sappers engaged in dismantling the Decauville light railway.
The firing scarcely stopped all night at the front. I was a little afraid. We can no longer receive messages; things are getting desperate. How long must we remain here? We are being well shelled from Europe and Asia; the whistling and rumbling of the shells’ passage followed on without a gap, falling more or less everywhere but mainly on the beach from which we must be evacuated. I envy my comrades who have already left.9
Sapeur Gaston-Louis Giguel, 1st Régiment du Génie, CEO
After the reshuffle the Helles garrison consisted of the 13th Division on the left, the 29th and 52nd Divisions in the centre, and finally the RND, who had moved across to take over the Kereves Dere sector. This sector had contained some of the worst ground anywhere on the Peninsula. The French casualties in the first four months of the campaign had been horrendous; but it soon became apparent to the new residents that a live and let live attitude had grown up on both sides since the campaign had stagnated back in August.
In many ways this was a rather weird sector. The lines ran right down to the water’s edge at a point where a fair sized and very precipitous gully, the Kereves Dere, opened out into the Straits. Here our lines were at the bottom of the gully with the Turks looking right down over us on the other side. A little further inland the positions were reversed, our lines being on the top of the hillside, whilst Johnny was at the bottom. In both cases the communication trenches running steeply down the hillsides were in full view of the chaps opposite, without any possibility of protection, short of head-cover. By all the rules of the game the locality ought to have been an exceptionally unhealthy one, and a happy hunting ground for snipers and whizz-bang merchants on both sides. Fortunately, however, our predecessors, jointly with Johnny, had devised a brilliant way out of the difficulty. On two trees between the lines, right down near the beach, were two flags – one French; one Turkish. As long as nobody, from either side, ventured beyond those flags, there was to be no rifle fire during daylight hours in this particular region. The agreement was strictly adhered to with the result that this portion of the line was an absolute rest-cure. Wandering along the line, through an olive grove which it traversed, one found chaps placidly leaning over the parapet, or sitting on it. I succeeded in getting one or two photos of No Man’s Land by the simple method of strolling out in front of the line near the afore-mentioned trees. I there and then formed the resolve that if ever I should have occasion to run a private war of my own, I would organise it on similar lines!10
Sapper Eric Wettern, No. 2 Field Company, Royal Engineers, RND
Overall the situation at Helles was extremely difficult as the opposing trenches were in some places as close as any at Anzac, while the front line troops had further to march back than at Suvla. It was a nasty combination. One solution was to block off as many avenues as possible for any pursuing Turks. Routes back to the beach were carefully marked off while all other communication trenches were blocked with barbed wire. All this had to be achieved under ever-increasing Turkish artillery fire during the first week of January 1916. Among the attached German officers on the Turkish side was Major Senftleben.
I am now commander of the heavy artillery of the southern portion from Kirthedere to the shores of the Dardanelles, and have two old and ten new batteries under my command, among which is the Austrian 24-cm howitzer battery with 1,200 rounds. I also have ample ammunition for the other batteries, so that we are shooting from early till late and somewhat facilitating with German shells the retreat of the enemy. In order to stir things up a bit I have brought my 15-cm quick-firing howitzer battery so far forward that from early morning we can also treat Sedd el Bahr to some of our good ammunition. I await each dawn with impatience to be able to reopen firing, and you can very easily imagine what joy such artillery activity with such good observation affords us.11
Major Senftleben, Artillery, Southern Group, Fifth Army
With the Turks deeply suspicious of what the British were up to, Liman finally decided to test the waters by ordering an attack along Gully Spur.
During the first days of January 1916 it appeared as though the fire of the land artillery at Sedd el Bahr was becoming weaker. But one gun was firing from several batteries, frequently changing its position, while the fire from the ships, including the largest calibres, sometimes grew to great vehemence. The removal of guns was observed from the Asiatic side. The scouting parties which were pushed forward against the hostile front at all hours of evening and night invariably met with strong resistance. Of the troops designated for the attack, the 12th Division had arrived to the rear of the south front. The division was designated to capture a section of trenches projecting northward opposite the extreme Turkish right, from which the British artillery could have flanked the great attack we were planning. On 7 January I ordered the 12th Division to carry out the attack planned on the extreme Turkish right after 2 hours of preparation by the
heaviest artillery fire and explosion of mines.12
General Otto Liman von Sanders, Headquarters, Fifth Army
The shells rained down from about noon, building up to a final climax, before the Turks went over the top following the explosion of two mines on Gully Spur at 16.00 on 7 January. In the end the attack was a damp squib, for the Turkish infantry seemed to lack their usual élan and those that did emerge from their trenches were soon quashed by a combination of small arms fire and the naval support fire tearing into the Turkish flank. Only where they faced the 7th North Staffords in the Fifth Avenue sector did they threaten any progress. Afterwards the adjutant of the North Staffords, Captain John Robinson, had to write to the wife of his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Walker:
During all the bombardment your husband was in the firing line. Then the Turks attacked. Their trenches were, at one corner only, from 10–15 yards away. Some four Turks got on to the parapet of our trench here and Colonel Walker finding the bay empty collected three or four and rushed into the bay, into which the Turks were firing. I believe he shot two with his revolver and was himself shot. But the Turks were driven off. That I think is the plain unvarnished tale. He fell down into the bottom of the trench and two of our men fell dead on the top of him. I feel sure he did not speak and that he felt no pain.13
Captain John Robinson, 7th North Staffordshire Regiment, 39th Brigade, 13th Division
Colonel Walker’s was a typical painless death; a death of the kind found predominantly in letters of condolence to grieving widows.14
The British were enormously relieved that the Turkish attack had not been pushed home. That day their total numbers at Helles stood at only 19,000, with sixty-three guns in support. Any sustained effort by the Turks would have surely broken through. Everyone feared a renewed assault and the tension remained excruciating. That night another 2,300 men and nine guns were evacuated. Still the Turks seemed oblivious to what was going on. Come dawn on Saturday 8 January at least those that remained had the consolation that, one way or another, the situation would soon be resolved. As the long hours passed until their evacuation, many could hardly believe what was happening.
That last day was rather queer. One would feel very much the same sensation on being left behind alone in a house that had been one’s home after the family and the furniture had gone. Two French 75s near our camp were very successfully trying to pretend that they were a battery of four guns. Apart from them, there was hardly a soul to be seen. Having nothing to do, we wandered round the line to have a last look round and take some photos. Ate as much as we could possibly tackle, to use up the surplus grub and spent a happy evening opening bully and jam tins and chucking them down a well, also biffing holes in dixies and generally mucking up any serviceable articles.15
Sapper Eric Wettern, No. 2 Field Company, Royal Engineers, RND
Meanwhile, the Royal Navy had been told to keep the Turks busy.
In order to try and make sure the Asiatic batteries should not shell the beaches that night, which they had been doing, and which we feared they might increase, and so prevent our embarking so many men in one night, the Navy sent out some ships off the Asiatic coast. Our aeroplanes went up and they heavily bombarded all Saturday afternoon – 12″, 15″ and 6″ shells were hurled in a continuous stream to where we thought the hidden batteries were, one ship fired 1,000 shells, another all her ammunition and it seemed to have the desired result.16
Deputy Quartermaster General Walter Campbell, Headquarters, EMF
Every possible preparation had been made and all they could do now was wait for nightfall. The selected routes back to the beach had been marked out with flour while the others had been blocked with masses of tangled barbed wire. Along the planned exit routes control stations were set up to monitor carefully the passage of each party.
I’m in charge of the divisional rendezvous and as these small scattered groups come in, I have to sort them out into their own particular units and pack them off to the beach. I don’t quite know all details yet but the idea seems to be that I’ve got to put the last man in on his right road, and once that’s done, I can promise you that you won’t see my heels for small pebbles! Of course we hope that even if they do discover that we are retreating from our front lines pretty soon after we have commenced to go, that they won’t come after us too quickly. In fact we are discouraging little schemes of that kind by leaving large numbers of contact mines behind us and various other little booby traps, which should throw a considerable amount of cold water (otherwise melinite) on any thrusting and inquisitive spirits.17
Major Norman Burge, Nelson Battalion, 1st Naval Brigade, RND
Up near the front line the final few men wore sandbags over their boots, while a layer of straw was put down on the floors of the trenches to muffle the sound. There was nothing they could do but wait.
Never did man listen to sound so anxiously as I did, sitting alone in the old French dugout in the red glow of a charcoal brazier. I was fearful that any moment there might come clamouring in my ears the furious babbling splutter of rapid fire, which would mean an attack. But the hours wore on in a healthy sequence of occasional bombs and steady sniping, and half an hour before midnight I made a tour to the end of my line, where my commander, Freyberg, with Asquith and six men, were holding the chaos of mine craters and trenches which the French named Le Ravin de la Mort. They both decided there was time to finish some biscuits they had left in a dugout.18
Sub Lieutenant Ivan Heald, Hood Battalion, 1st Naval Brigade, RND
At long last the time came for Heald and his small party to creep away on their fraught journey back to V Beach.
A touch on the back of the last man and he climbed down from the firing step and touched the next man farther along, and quietly we filed out of the long firing line, and, as we stole away, I could hear the Turks coughing and talking in their trench 20 yards away. Two or three times, to hide the shuffle of the men’s gear against the side of the trench, I jumped on the firing step and let my Webley-Scott bark at Achi Baba, and somewhere on the left someone fired a farewell. Very light, which lit up the sandbags until the blackness came welling up out of the trench again as the rocket died away. So we shuffled past the telephone station at the top of the communication trench.19
Sub Lieutenant Ivan Heald, Hood Battalion, 1st Naval Brigade, RND
They left behind them a rather élite little group under the command of Lieutenant Commander Bernard Freyberg, accompanied by Arthur Asquith and F. S. Kelly.
We had the honour of being the very last company to leave the firing line on our sector and your humble was selected along with another two to hold a communication trench while the rest of the company retired. Our officer selected J. Geddie (Byker), J. Raymont (West Hartlepool) and myself as ‘three level-headed men’ to stay till the last. It was a big strain on our nerves as if the Turks tumbled and made a big attack there was only a thin line to keep them back. The men withdrew from the firing line a few at a time, ‘B’ Company being the last to leave at 11.20 at night. Us three in a specially constructed fort that commanded our firing line, the Drakes and the supports. If the Turks made an attack we had to hold it at all costs. ‘Johnny’ didn’t tumble and after Mr Kelly had destroyed the telephone station I led the way as guide, Mr Kelly bringing up the rear. We couldn’t help laughing as we could still hear Johnny sniping away as usual – stray bullets whizzing over our heads.20
Private Thomas Goulden, Hood Battalion, 1st Naval Brigade, RND
But they were not the very last to abandon the front line in the RND sector. That honour fell to small detachments of divisional engineers whose task it was to block and booby trap as far as possible all trenches that formed the designated route back to V Beach.
We worked our way down, distributing in our trail umbrellas, crinolines and other just causes and impediments why Johnny should not attempt to follow up too closely. Although we were industriously working down as fast as our various little jobs wo
uld permit, for some time we were not getting appreciably further from the line, as that beastly trench ran along the support line, and therefore parallel to the front line, for some considerable distance. We naturally expected to see Johnny bobbing over the top at any moment. However, he didn’t!21
Sapper Eric Wettern, No. 2 Field Company, Royal Engineers, RND
Off they went back down the zigzagging communication trenches. Ahead of them the main body of troops was still plodding along the long road that stretched some three miles back to the beach.
The Turk’s own moon was in the sky, a perfect crescent with a star, and a wind rising dangerously from the north. Now and again a wistful sigh of a spent bullet, and ever wheeling behind us the shaft of the great Chanak searchlight. The men talked little among themselves, and I think we were all awed by the bigness of the thing, and saddened by the thoughts of the little crosses we were leaving behind us – the little wooden crosses that were creeping higher every day to meet the crescents on that great sullen hill.22
Sub Lieutenant Ivan Heald, Hood Battalion, 1st Naval Brigade, RND
Even when they had reached the beach they knew that they were still extremely vulnerable to fire from the Asiatic batteries.
We toiled on to other parties coming through the roofless village of Sedd el Bahr, all anxious now with the knowledge that a Turkish telephone message would stir Asiatic Annie to pound us with shells. Sure enough one came as we waited on the beach. We saw the great flash blotted out by the night, the warning ‘G’ on a bugle sounded, and, full of foreboding, we began to count the 27 seconds which Annie gives one to think about one’s sins before she drops her shell on the beach. This one squabbed miserably in the sea and none followed. The beach was awesome with the throbbing of motor-launches and the shouts of naval officers making perilous berths alongside the sunken steamers which make the pier. There is a curving yellow cliff here, and the foot of it was one long black line where the battalions were moving slowly on to the pier. The whole place reeked of paraffin, and we guessed that dawn would see the beach ablaze. Over the listed sunken ship we clambered, and a jolly naval petty officer chased us along a gangway to the deck of a pitching black silhouette of a destroyer. Seven hundred and fifty war-weary men covered the deck of that destroyer before she slid out into the night, and I think most of us were asleep before we had lost the shore lights.23