by Alan Bardos
He turned to Crassus and Sir George. ‘What the devil do you want?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I need to bear witness against Swift,’ Crassus gushed. He and Sir George made no sign of leaving.
‘Who on Earth are you and what is it you wish to bear witness to?’ Major Churchill asked Crassus.
‘Lieutenant Dawkins, sir. I served with Swift in Flanders and I saw to it that charges were pressed against Swift after witnessing him commit treachery.’
‘I’m sure you did.’ Churchill gazed at Crassus, evidently shocked to hear an officer talk like this.
‘Swift wriggled out of it of course, but as the charges were never officially quashed, he can still stand trial for what he’s done.’
‘And you’ve been making it your business to see that happens?’ Major Churchill asked.
‘Yes sir, I don’t see as there is anything wrong with that,’ Crassus said finally picking up on Jack Churchill’s disapproval. ‘I have the court martial here.’ He waved the blue form.
‘Thank you, I’ll take that.’ Churchill snatched the form out of Crassus’s hand and passed it to Hamilton.
‘Don’t worry about this twaddle,’ Hamilton said glancing through the form. Any charges against Lieutenant Swift will be dropped for good conduct in the field.’ Hamilton turned to Jack Churchill to explain.
‘I've remembered where I saw you before Swift. You were perched on the back of a trawler, being tossed around by enemy shell fire and yet you somehow managed to dispatch a mine that was heading straight for our ship.’
‘You’ve done your country a great service, saved my life and that of my staff, not to mention a rather valuable cruiser. Damnedest shot. We saw you clear as day through our field glasses.’ Hamilton chuckled and tore the blue form in two. ‘If I hear anymore about you telling tales and behaving in an ungentlemanly manner, I shall take a very dim view of it, is that understood, Dawkins?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Crassus said weakly.
Hamilton turned to Johnny with a sigh. ‘You’re a game chap, Swift, that can’t be denied. The army needs men like you. I’m willing to put your behaviour in Flanders down as poor judgment and give you a chance to redeem yourself.’
‘I’m most grateful, sir,’ Johnny said thanking his lucky stars that he’d bothered to shoot the mine.
‘I understand you speak Turkish, perhaps we can make good use of you in the coming landings. I fancy a spell with the Lancashire Fusiliers would be just the ticket. Their adjutant will know what to do with you. If you don’t make a good show of it, I’ll shoot you myself. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Excuse me Sir Ian, but there is another matter you’re not aware of, Swift has been abusing his position of trust in HQ, in a matter that included Major Churchill,’ Sir George said pointedly.
‘What matter?’ Churchill asked.
‘The witnessing of my signature on…’
‘Oh come-come Smyth don’t be so churlish, especially when you should have been paying attention to what you were signing,’ Churchill said, bemused.
‘Nonetheless, you have approved the validity of forged documents.’
‘Want your share of the glory Smyth, so you can scamper back up the greasy pole my brother pushed you down?’ Major Churchill asked. ‘I'm sure you’d be only too willing to overlook the matter if you were to come to Lemnos?’
‘If I was called to serve on the staff, I would of course do my duty in any way I was directed,’ Sir George said.
‘Let’s just bring him, he was pretty hopeless as naval liaison, but might serve as some kind of secretary,’ Hamilton said.
Sir George stuck his chin out satisfied.
Johnny turned to Hamilton, remembering a promise. ‘Would it be possible to take my servant with me?’
Johnny winked at Crassus, who looked like the bottom had just fallen out of his world.
Chapter 43
Laszlo Breitner’s cab forced its way through the crowds of troops arriving at the port of Gallipoli, on the southern coast of the peninsula. He'd managed to organise a transfer from coastal defence and wondered, as he pulled up at the large villa that served as headquarters of the Turkish 5th Army, if he'd made the right choice.
He approached the duty officer, presented his orders and was told to wait in the hall. He had no idea what kind of reception he would receive from General Liman von Sanders, the commander of the Turkish 5th Army and the person charged with defending the Dardanelles, but he suspected it would not be warm.
When the Allied fleet did not return it was obvious to Breitner that they would force a landing and he asked to be relocated to the peninsula. The area commander had readily agreed, happy to be rid of an ‘observer’ sent by Enver Pasha and sent him onto the headquarters of one of Enver’s greatest political enemies.
'Would you care for some schnapps?' Breitner was roused from his thoughts by a strikingly handsome artillery officer, holding out a hip flask.
'No, thank you.’ Breitner tried to sound gracious.
‘Are you sure? You look like you need one,’ the officer persisted.
'Quite sure, thank you. I’m going to need my wits about me.’
‘I suspect I will too, but whatever happens, happens.’ He held out his hand. 'Sorry, Kurt Wirbelauer.'
‘Laszlo Breitner.’ They shook hands and something triggered in Breitner’s memory, ‘You’re with a howitzer battery?’
‘I had that honour.’ Kurt held up his flask in salute.
‘You wouldn't be acquainted with Captain Adolphus Brauer?’ Breitner asked.
‘Yes, of course, Dolly is my very good friend. You know him?’ Kurt answered, turning his intense blue eyes on Breitner, demanding news.
‘I was with him on the 18th March, when the Allies last attempted to force the Dardanelles. He was concerned about you and I’m sure will be glad to know you are well.’
‘And I him. You mean to tell me that the Royal Navy actually managed to miss him?’ Kurt grinned happily.
‘Dolly was in one piece and very drunk the last time I saw him. He threw me quite a leaving party.’
‘Good old Dolly.’ Kurt took a large swig from his flask.
The sound of clicking heels echoed down the hall. ‘Lieutenant Wirbelauer, drunk in the afternoon. Will your disgraceful behaviour never end?’
Breitner turned to see Captain Stolz striding towards them. Kurt’s good cheer vanished.
'Stolz I thought I’d see you in this cushy little number.’
‘You will need to smarten up your ideas where you are going, Lieutenant,’ Stolz said, looming over them.
‘Why do you think I’m getting drunk?’ Kurt replied, sounding more resigned to his fate than defiant.
‘You’re a disgrace to the German Army,’ Stolz bellowed. Kurt ignored him and continued to drink from his flask.
Stolz lifted his hand up to knock the flask away from Kurt, but caught the look in Kurt’s eye, thought better of it and instead handed him a sheet of paper. ‘You’re being posted to Cape Helles.’
Kurt stood and took the paper. ‘What about my men?’
‘They no longer require you. The Turks are fully trained and excellent gunners.’ Stolz smiled. ‘You will now act as a messenger, carrying dispatches.’
Breitner watched Stolz. He was obviously hoping Kurt would protest such a menial posting, but Kurt did not give him the satisfaction. ‘I will go wherever it is seen fit to send me.’ He shook Breitner’s hand and turned back to Stolz. ‘I will serve as a frontline soldier, be that as a messenger or a gunner, but I will not serve as a headquarters lickspittle.’
Kurt walked away as Stolz flushed and fought to keep himself under control, then turned to Breitner.
'Major Breitner. Captain Sigmund Stolz, I am on General Liman von Sanders staff.’
‘Yes we have met, you were kind enough to assist me with the Austrian Ambassador’s “Great Champagne Scandal”,’ Breitner said dryly.
‘Ah, yes of cou
rse, you must forgive me. One meets so many… people. Come.’ He turned on his heels and marched away, shouting over his shoulder. 'Is it true that you have been sent from Enver Pasha?’
‘Yes, it is true,’ Breitner replied, taking up station next to him and employing the clipped German he’d leant at the Austrian military academy he’d attended.
Stolz’s manner became more ingratiating, as he led Breitner through the house. ‘It is my pleasant duty to welcome you to headquarters, such as they are. I’m told that it was once the residence of the French consular agent.’
Breitner glanced around at the villa, little remained of the previous occupant. Everything of value had long since been stripped, giving a functional military atmosphere to the building. Breitner was impressed by the brisk organisation and industry of the staff. It was a place Breitner thought he would feel comfortable in.
‘Did you have a pleasant journey?’ Stolz asked.
‘Yes, it is just a short trip across the Straits from Chanak,’ Breitner said. The torpedo boat he'd been in had quickly and elegantly made its way through the minefield.
‘Splendid, of course you must have been stationed in the Dardanelles Strait when the Allies attacked,’ Stolz said. ‘Alas I was forfeit that honour, but we must all make sacrifices in war time. The general was in urgent need of staff officers. I was first in my class at the War College, so an obvious choice to remain.’
‘Yes, I quite understand.'
'Now of course with invasion pending you want to move where the real action is,' Stolz continued airily. Breitner supposed it would look like that. Stolz wouldn't understand the sense of obligation and duty that compelled Breitner to be here.
‘I wouldn’t get to at home, the last thing we need is a spy from Enver.’ Stolz showed Breitner into a room that was all but empty except for a large round table and some ornate wall mirrors. General Otto Liman von Sanders was hunched over the table studying a large map.
Stolz whispered something to von Sanders. The General evidently didn’t understand him, snatched Breitner’s orders and ushered Stolz away.
‘You are from Enver Pasha?’ The General accused as he read Breitner’s orders.
From what Breitner had heard, through the Embassy tittle-tattle, von Sanders and Enver had been at loggerheads for years. Enver had even tried to have von Sanders poisoned.
‘I have made myself useful to Enver Pasha,’ Breitner said, trying to sound noncommittal. ‘But I am here principally as an observer for the Austro-Hungarian Embassy and to be of service in any way I can.’
‘I see.’ The General stared at Breitner. ‘You look familiar.’
‘We were both at a reception given by the Austrian Ambassador, sir.’
‘Ah, of course and how is his Excellency von Pallavicini?’ von Sanders asked.
‘His Excellency was in good health the last time I was at the embassy,’ Breitner replied.
‘Was it von Pallavicini’s wish that you be sent here to observe?’
‘My immediate superior at the embassy was Baron von Grubber,’ Breitner said evasively.
‘Ah von Grubber is an excellent fellow, so you report directly to him?’ The suspicion was starting to recede from the General’s voice.
‘I have sent reports to the Embassy on the situation in the Straits.’ Breitner had no idea if his reports were relayed back to Vienna, let alone read, but he felt it important that he at least try to keep his government informed of the situation.
‘And what is it that you report exactly?’ Von Sanders asked and Breitner saw his chance.
‘Essentially that the Allies mean to take the Straits and open the way to Russia. As such this is a key theatre of operation that could decide the outcome of the war. More resources should therefore be sent here.’
Von Sanders looked at him sternly. ‘That is what you have told the Austrian Ambassador and your Government?’
‘Yes sir. I may also send reports to Enver Pasha, if I feel that a matter is worthy of his particular attention.’ Breitner hoped that was enough to suggest that he did not report directly to Enver, although he had his ear.
‘And you would like me to brief you on the situation here, so you can report it directly back to the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador?’ Von Sanders asked.
‘Yes, sir, that would be most helpful.’
‘Very well.’ Liman von Sanders swept his hand over the map. ‘We’ve had reports that the Allies are gathering their forces in the Aegean and across the Mediterranean in preparation for full-scale landings.’
‘Might I ask how you intend to meet such a threat?’
‘There are a number of possible landing sites along the Gallipoli and Anatolian coasts. However rather than dividing my forces and garrisoning each site in strength, I have concentrated the majority of my men into strategic reserves and placed small units of men at possible landing sites in a defensive screen. This screen will offer resistance to the landings and raise the alarm. When it is clear what the Allied plan is, I will bring up the reserve and counterattack in force.’
‘A sound tactic, sir,’ Breitner said. A flexible defence was, he thought, probably the best approach over such a large area of coast.
‘I have placed two divisions here.’ Von Sanders pointed at the Anatolian coast on the Asian side of the country. ‘A landing here could easily roll up our shore defences in Asia.’
He stabbed his finger at the northern end of the Dardanelles at the top of the isthmus, where it joined the European side of Turkey. ‘I have put a further two divisions at Bulair near the Gulf of Saros, a strong defensive position originally built by the British and French during the Crimean war. A landing here could cut us off from the rest of Turkey. It is my view that these are the most likely landing sites.’
Von Sanders moved his finger down to the South of the peninsula. ‘It is also possible that we might face an assault here, at Cape Helles. This would allow the Allies to force their way through to Achi Baba.’
He tapped his finger on a large mountain some 12 miles from Cape Helles. ‘From here the enemy can dominate our artillery positions along the Straits. I have placed one division in this location, with the majority of it in reserve north of Achi Baba to cover the possible landing sites to the south at Cape Helles, which are particularly vulnerable to naval gun fire.’
Breitner presumed that was why von Sanders had placed his reserve so far from Cape Helles and why Stolz was so gleeful about sending Kurt there.
‘Finally, I have the 19th Division, who are the strategic reserve. I’ve placed it at the centre of the peninsula, where it can cover the beaches at Gaba Tepe in the West. However once the enemy has tipped their hand the 19th will move to the most endangered position.’
‘The 19th will be the vanguard of your defence?’ Breitner asked.
‘Quite possibly, I would be more confident if they were sent more men. A point I have raised with Enver Pasha time and again, to no avail,’ von Sanders said bluntly.
‘Perhaps if a place could be found for me on your staff, I might be able to report such matters to Enver Pasha?’ Breitner said.
‘Yes, I think that can be arranged,’ von Sanders agreed.
Chapter 44
Johnny Swift struggled to steady the boat, before carefully stepping out and wading towards the shore. He’d always had an aversion to getting his head under water. Unfortunately, the only boats available for the landings were naval cutters, that pitched and rolled as he clambered out.
He struggled to keep up with the lead sections, who were already lying along the wire providing covering fire, for the cutting parties. They were only firing blanks but were determined to follow the manual that directed one must bring overwhelming fire to bear on the enemy. To ensure one can get at him with cold steel.
The cutting parties had hacked ragged gaps in the wire by the time Johnny reached his company and the men were pouring through, fanning out into an open skirmish line.
The Lancashire Fusiliers were a crack regiment,
in the 86th ‘Fusilier’ Brigade, of the 29th Division and took the enemy trenches, with the minimum of effort required from the interpreter.
The exercise concluded, the men took a breather before heading back to the transport ship, bantering as they cleaned sand out of their rifles. Johnny had been attached to C Company as a glorified observer from Headquarters Company. Richards, one of the company sergeants, glared and Johnny kept moving.
If this had been the real thing Johnny supposed that he would go forward now to interrogate any prisoners taken, but as there weren’t any he was rather at a loss. He joined a group of officers who, pleased with their victory, were passing around a hip flask of rum. Johnny took a sip and handed it on.
He was enjoying his time on Lemnos. After a week of drills and route marches he was getting somewhere back to fighting fit. Aside from the occasional storm and cramped living conditions on board ship, it was a fine place to be in the spring.
‘I think that went rather well, what say you, Swift?’ Aubrey, one of the subalterns, asked looking at Johnny through his monocle.
Yes, the men executed the exercise perfectly,’ Johnny agreed. As someone who’d seen action and saved Hamilton’s life, his opinion was often sought by the junior officers. ‘But few plans survive contact with the enemy, especially when the enemy’s firing back.’
Johnny never knew what to say and always played a straight bat, with a cliché. The idea of jumping out of a boat and running through a hail of bullets into barbed wire was not a pleasant one. He'd been in a battle the previous year, outside Ypres, when he and a scratch force had fought off the Prussian Guard. This was something else altogether, something that had never been done before and he had no idea what would happen.
‘Yes, but it is after all only the Turk we’re up against, and they’ve put on a pretty poor show so far.’ Aubrey said.
‘They did make rather a good show when the navy tried to force the Straits. I was there,’ Johnny said. ‘They also have the home advantage, they know we’re coming and have had time to prepare.’
