As the battle ebbed and flowed, Bassett and his team were kept busy repairing numerous line breaks on the exposed slopes of Rhododendron Spur. He personally mended three on the 9th alone. These missions were always performed in the open and invariably under fire of varying degrees of intensity. Often, they occurred in the midst of Turkish counter-attacks less than 100 yds away. Yet miraculously, Bassett, whose only weapons were a revolver picked up from a dead Gurkha and a bayonet ‘which touched the ground because I was so small’, came through unscathed. ‘I was so short that the bullets passed over me’, he once jocularly remarked. In fact, he had been incredibly lucky. One bullet had gone through his tunic collar without touching him and another had torn off his right-hand pocket.
Sadly, his repeated acts of gallantry were, like those performed by the Wellingtons on the crest of Chunuk Bair, all in vain. On 10 August a mass attack finally overwhelmed the defenders. Hamilton’s bold gamble had failed. Bassett survived the carnage of Rhododendron Spur, but shortly afterwards he fell ill and was evacuated from the peninsula on 13 August. It was while convalescing in hospital in Leicester that he learned, much to his surprise, of his Victoria Cross.
His citation, published on 15 October 1915, stated:
For most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty on the Chunuk Bair Ridge, in the Gallipoli Peninsula, on 7th August, 1915 [sic]. After the New Zealand Infantry Brigade had attacked and established itself on the ridge, Corporal Bassett, in full daylight and under a continuous fire and heavy fire, succeeded in laying a telephone wire from the old position to the new one on Chunuk Bair. He has subsequently been brought to notice for further excellent and most gallant work connected with the repair of telephone lines by day and night under heavy fire.
Bassett’s first reaction to the news was that a mistake had been made. Indeed, there had been one. The date in the citation, which was later inscribed on his Cross, should have read 8–9 August, or even 8–10 August. But that was the only error. Bassett later admitted: ‘There was nobody more staggered than I was when I saw my name.’ Those who had witnessed his numerous acts of bravery viewed things differently. Maj. Fred Waite, the New Zealanders’ Official Historian, considered that ‘no VC on the Peninsula was more consistently earned’. He added: ‘This was not for one brilliant act of bravery, but for a full week of ceaseless devotion.’
Cyril Royston Guyton Bassett, the first New Zealander to win the Victoria Cross in the First World War, was born at Mount Eden, Auckland on 3 January 1892, the only son of Frederick Charles and Harriett Adelle Bassett. The family lived in Burleigh Street, and Cyril was educated at Grafton public school, Auckland Grammar and Auckland Technical College. He joined the National Bank of New Zealand in Auckland at the age of sixteen and, apart from military service in two world wars, was employed by the bank all his working life.
His military career began shortly before the First World War when he volunteered for the Auckland College Rifles. Despite his small stature, which very nearly barred him from the unit, he rose to the rank of lance-corporal. On 10 August 1914, the 22-year-old bank clerk and part-time soldier enlisted in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force. Two months later, by then a sapper in the Divisional Signals unit of the NZ Engineers, he embarked for Egypt.
Bassett took part in the initial landing at Anzac, later remarking of his baptism of fire: ‘The only thing that occupied my mind was “I wonder how I’m going to behave when I get under fire. I wonder if I’m going to maintain my honour and integrity… .”’ He ended his first day in action in command of a signals section.
The following month, the newly promoted L/Cpl. Bassett was among three signallers recommended for gallantry awards for their part in carrying a telephone wire across fire-swept ground between Walker’s Ridge and Pope Hill after an abortive attack. Years later, he described the difficulties facing signallers on the peninsula: ‘We didn’t have buried line. Most of the lines … were in the air and, if left on the ground, well, they were knocked about by the troops and we had considerable difficulty in maintaining lines… . We didn’t have enough wire or enough telephones.’ After being evacuated seriously ill, Cpl. Bassett spent nearly nine months recuperating in England. He rejoined his unit in France, in June 1916, shortly before the Somme offensive. Commissioned in September 1917, Bassett was recommended for the Military Cross for his actions on the Western Front, but the award was not granted. He was twice wounded, in October 1917 and the following March.
Lt. Bassett returned to his native Auckland in December 1918. Demobilised a month later, he resumed his banking career. At the same time he joined the Territorials, serving until 1929, when he was placed on the Retired List with the rank of lieutenant. His career in banking continued to flourish. He was appointed branch manager at Paeroa and then Auckland Town Hall, a post he continued to hold until his retirement in 1952.
During the Second World War he served in the National Military Reserve and, from January 1941, as a captain in the New Zealand Corps of Signals. He did not go overseas, but regular promotion followed until he was given command of the Northern Districts Signals. In December 1943 Lt. Col. Bassett’s service career ended. He was just a few days short of his fifty-second birthday.
Cyril Bassett took an active role in community affairs. He served as a Justice of the Peace and was a prominent member of numerous services organizations, including the Gallipoli Association, the Sappers Association, the King Empire Veterans Club and the Navy League. A fit man well into old age, he listed his recreations as yachting, fishing, swimming and gardening. Married to Ruth (née Grant), he had two daughters, and lived in retirement at 74, Stanley Point Road, Stanley Point. It was there, on 9 January 1983, that the last-surviving Gallipoli VC died.
Following his death, his widow donated the Bassett VC Memorial Trophy to the Royal New Zealand Corps of Signals. The trophy, which is awarded annually to the Corps’ most outstanding corporal, depicts Bassett laying a line at Gallipoli. More recently, in 2009, the National Bank RSA Cyril Bassett VC speech competition for secondary school children throughout New Zealand was launched in his honour with the winner’s prize being a trip to Gallipoli for the 2010 ANZAC commemorations.
A modest man, he always felt uneasy about being awarded the Commonwealth’s highest gallantry award. According to his daughter, Cherry, he rarely spoke about the war or displayed his VC. ‘He had had enough,’ she said. ‘He thought ‘bugger it’ so he shut it up in a box and threw it under the house.’ For his part, Bassett maintained: ‘When I got the medal I was disappointed to find I was the only New Zealander to get one at Gallipoli, because hundreds of Victoria Crosses should have been awarded there.’ And he added: ‘All my mates ever got were wooden crosses.’
P.H. HANSEN
Hill 70 (Scimitar Hill), Sulva Bay, 9 August 1915
Capt. P. Hansen
Shells burst in the sea as the weary survivors of the 6th Lincolns sought refuge on the crowded shores of Suvla Bay. Released from their ordeal at the front, they watched the ships, from tiny North Sea trawlers to huge grey battleships, continue their work apparently unconcerned. From the cover of some rocks, a young NCO took advantage of the lull to write home. A year earlier, L/Cpl. A.H. Breese had been delivering mail in Lincoln. Now, in the second week of August 1915, he had plenty to write home about:
Last Monday, August 9th, we set out to attack the Turks, who were holding a hill beyond the one we captured on the 7th. Our Battalion was in the firing line, and after advancing some distance we discovered that we had fallen into a trap. We did not retreat, however, and our men are still holding the position. By the way, one of the Turkish shells has managed to hit a trawler and we have just watched it sink … After the battle on the 9th our Adjutant called for volunteers to rescue wounded from the fire, which had broken out between us and the Turks. The poor chaps were being roasted alive. Myself and two others went along with the Adjutant and rescued as many as we could. Next morning I learned that I was going to be recommended to our General. I do not
know any more; probably you will hear before me …
The adjutant to whom Breese referred was Capt. Percy Hansen and the incident outlined in his letter would result in Hansen receiving the first Victoria Cross of the Suvla operations.
Hansen’s background was somewhat unusual. Born in South Africa to wealthy Danish parents, he had been brought up in England, educated at Eton and Sandhurst, and, despite his Scandinavian roots, was thoroughly English in manner. Indeed, as a young subaltern his reputation for sartorial elegance earned him the sobriquet ‘Piccadilly Percy’. Like many young officers excited by the prospect of action, he had talked openly of his ambition of winning the VC.
The 6th (Service) Battalion, the Lincolnshire Regiment, raised at Grantham during the first month of the war, landed at B Beach, Suvla Bay on the night of 6/7 August. Part of the 33rd Brigade of the 11th Division, they formed the divisional reserve. In the early hours of 7 August the Lincolns marched across the dry Salt Lake to storm Hill 53 (soon to be more popularly known as Chocolate Hill), the nearest of two mounds which led to a range of hills rising towards the strategically important Anafarta Spur. In one of the few positive and wholly successful actions performed on the first day, Chocolate Hill was captured. However, it was a triumph to be followed by the kind of squandered opportunity which would characterise and eventually undermine the Suvla venture. After taking the hill, Capt. Hansen, who was temporarily in command of the battalion, went forward with an officer of the 6th Borders to reconnoitre the Turkish positions. They advanced as far as Ismail Oglu Tepe, the southern slopes of the 2-mile-long Anafarta Spur, without encountering any opposition. Permission was requested to move forward and take the hill while the way was clear, but the Lincolns, full of fight from their early success, were ordered instead to withdraw to Lala Baba, on the fringes of the Salt Lake. It was a decision destined to have fatal consequences not only for many of the Lincolns but for the expedition as a whole.
After a day of stultifying inactivity on the 8th, the 33rd Brigade was instructed to carry out an attack in the direction of the Anafarta Spur at dawn the next day. Little opposition was anticipated and the attacking battalions, consisting of the 6th Lincolns, 6th Borders and 7th South Staffordshires, were assured that the high ground from Scimitar Hill (Hill 70), on the northern slopes of the spur, would be secured beforehand. In fact, the troops occupying the crest of the smooth rise, with its curving strip of sandstone shaped like a scimitar, were withdrawn hours before the attack without word being passed to the 33rd Brigade. It was a recipe for disaster soon to be fully realised. Hardly had the Lincolns begun their advance on Ismail Oglu Tepe, when heavy rifle-fire broke out from the north-east. At the same time, Turkish artillery began shelling Chocolate Hill. Far from finding their left flank protected, the 6th Lincolns, commanded by Lt. Col. M.P. Phelps, came under heavy fire from Turks dug in on the crest of Scimitar Hill. The Lincolns had been on the move for two hours and already it was clear their original goal was out of reach. Phelps later wrote:
Sketch map showing the location of the Suvla Bay VC actions
The battalion reached this point [Hill 70] which I had been told was held by one of our regiments [West Yorkshires], which information I had passed on to company commanders. When firing started I immediately went to the leading companies, who pushed on, taking up a position along the forward head of the hill. I there heard that the West Yorkshires [more likely the 6th East Yorkshires] had retired from the hill and D Company was forced to turn half left to meet an attack from the enemy on the flank. Casualties began at once … I found the line held, but under very accurate and close, if not heavy, fire, both from the front … and the high ground beyond. I then went to the left flank, where the men were quite steady and shooting hard. There were many casualties … I then fixed on a central point as Battalion Headquarters. I and my Adjutant [Capt. Hansen] were there at intervals during the entire action and sent messages from there. A few reinforcements now began to arrive, a company or less at a time, and went into the firing line. I then sent a report to Headquarters asking for more reinforcements and ammunition.
Phelps left his HQ to check on the position held by a party of the South Staffordshire. He noted:
The trenches were full of dead and wounded, and I believe this corner was hardly held all day, as no one cared to go through the brush. As I returned, there was a rush of men to the rear, belonging to other battalions sent as reinforcements, which I, helped by Captain Hansen and Captain Duck, managed to stop, sending all these men back to the firing line. There were several of these rushes [seven or eight], all of which we managed to stop, taking the men back to the firing line. All the time shrapnel was bursting among the men from the right front, this added to the casualties. Fire came directly from the rear and pitched amongst the men. There is no doubt that this came from our own guns.
During this time three small fires started, but died down. A further fire started now, however, and got a good hold of the scrub, driving back the men in the firing line and making it impossible to see. Unfortunately, there were far too many wounded to bring away. At 12.15 p.m. I reluctantly gave the order to withdraw, taking as many wounded as we could. There were then only 23 men left on the hill, mostly men of the battalion. I retired on a trench about 300 yards in rear and took over a section of the defence, which we immediately consolidated.
Our losses were 12 officers killed, wounded and missing, 391 rank and file, out of 17 officers and 561 rank and file who originally started out, leaving the battalion 5 officers and 174 rank and file strong.
The full horror of the confused battle which ended with Scimitar Hill obscured by a mass of flames and choking smoke can scarcely be appreciated by so dispassionate an account. Some of the messages, scribbled out by Captain Hansen in the heat of battle, however, paint a more graphic picture of the desperate nature of the fighting:
7am. Cannot hold out much longer without support … having a very bad time.
7.55. More ammunition urgently required. It is impossible to move forward from here. Casualties extremely heavy …
8.30. Ground on left flank is now on fire. Part of last reinforcements gone right to rear … Heavy casualties.
9.50. Don’t think men will stand very much more … D Coy reduced to 15–20 rifles.
10.25. Our own artillery is now shrapnelling us. Two rounds have just fallen within 50 yards of Bn Hqrs.
12.15pm. Smoke and heat became so bad we were forced to retire about 200 yards [sic]. We are now reorganising. Regret to report that several wounded are being burned alive.
It was at this point that Capt. Hansen, who had been in the thick of things from the outset, decided to act. Scorning the safety of the support trenches at the foot of the blazing hill, he led a volunteer party of three men, consisting of L/Cpl. Breese, a signaller, L/Cpl. Goffin and L/Cpl. Clifton, back up the slopes and into the pall of smoke. According to Col. Phelps, they advanced 400 yds through the burning scrub and succeeded in rescuing six wounded men despite ‘exploding ammunition and crossfire from the Turks’. Two days after the battle, Phelps wrote to Brig. Gen. R.P. Maxwell (GOC 33rd Brigade):
I wish to bring to the notice of the General Officer Commanding, the behaviour of Captain and Adj P H Hansen during the action of the 9th inst. He behaved with conspicuous coolness during the whole action, writing messages and taking them to various places under a heavy fire. He stopped on his own initiative several retirements of reinforcements and helped me stop several more [seven or eight in number] under a heavy fire … With a few volunteers, went out to the front under fire and brought in several wounded, who would undoubtedly otherwise have been burnt alive. His conduct has invariably been excellent.
The battle of 9 August, or Black Monday as it became known to the troops at Suvla, was a disaster, redeemed only in part by the selfless gallantry of a few individuals like Percy Hansen. After watching the swaying fortunes of the 33rd Brigade on Scimitar Hill, soon to be rechristened Burnt Hill, Sir Ian Hamilton was close to despair
. He wrote: ‘My heart has grown tough amidst the struggles of the Peninsula, but the misery of this scene well nigh broke it.’
The 6th Lincolns were rested before playing a supporting role in the last great effort to seize the heights overlooking Suvla Bay, the same heights which had been theirs for the taking on 7 August. After the failure of the great assault on 21 August they took their turn in garrisoning the trenches at Suvla until the December evacuation put an end to the stalemate. Before then, however, Percy Hansen had added another exploit to his deeds on Scimitar Hill. The 33rd Brigade War Diary for September noted that Capt. Hansen carried out a daring reconnaissance which involved swimming round the seaward flank of the Turkish lines on the north of the bay. Sgt. H.J. Gibbons, of the 6th Lincolns, wrote of his solo mission on 9 September: ‘The Adjt reconnoitred round behind the Turkish lines, found position of a Battery and Snipers. Coming back swam full into a Turk whom he shot, and got back safely with the exception of a few bruises.’ The next day Gibbons noted: ‘Adjutant went round with a Destroyer to point out position of guns he had discovered. He has also been appointed DAQMG so shall lose him I’m sorry to record.’ In fact, Hansen did not leave. Col. Phelps went sick, suffering from a bout of dysentery, and Hansen assumed command of the battalion. His command, however, lasted only a fortnight before he too fell ill.
VCs of the First World War Gallipoli Page 25
