by Peter Hart
Not to take part in the operation would have been, in case it succeeded, to witness the appearance of the English fleet alone before Constantinople. For us French, who are deeply involved in the Orient, it would have been a very painful renunciation of our national pride and perilous for our interests.15
Naval Minister Victor Augagneur
He was even willing to allow the proposed joint British and French fleet to be commanded by the British, despite the August 1914 agreement that the French would command any naval operations launched in the Mediterranean.
The Russians, keen to promote their own interests, also wanted to get involved. As soon as they heard of the joint Anglo-French fleet they feared that if Constantinople fell then they would be prevented from seizing the Turkish capital – a long-term aim of Russian foreign policy. Their concern was reflected in an offer to support British and French ambitions, not only in the break-up of the Ottoman Empire, but also elsewhere in the globe. But, and it was a big but, only if the Russians were allowed to occupy Constantinople. The Allies may have all been on the same side, but they each had their own rather than any common agenda. The horse trading commenced and by mid-April the deal was done. On the map, at least, the Ottoman Empire had been dismembered and shared out between the British, the French and the Russians. The predators had gathered. Now all that was required was the defeat of the Turks.
NAVY IN ACTION
Nearly all the papers talk the most abject rot about this campaign and I find it rather annoying when I read that the people who have been holding us up for the last month only have two old guns and a catapult in each fort, can only fire at ranges of 100 yards and not straight at that!1
Midshipman Herbert Williams, HMS Agamemnon
ONE SHADOW SHOULD HAVE BEEN CAST over the operations even before they started. Presumptions of easy success were based on the perception that the Turks were deficient in military skills, grit and determination. Yet just a few days after the War Council made its decision the Turks launched a daring attack on the Suez Canal. The importance of the Suez Canal to the British Empire as the main route to India and the East made it an obvious target for the Turks, but first they would have to cross the Sinai Desert. A total of 25,000 Turkish troops and Arab irregulars, accompanied by artillery, advanced across the desert in three columns. With them they took galvanised steel boats and pontoons dragged by teams of oxen. The logistical difficulties of crossing the arid landscape were considerable, as the animals required to carry the water and food supplies themselves needed water and fodder, which had to be carried by yet more pack animals. The British were not unprepared: Major General Sir John Maxwell, commander of the army in Egypt, had some 30,000 polyglot troops under his command, including two Indian Army divisions, the territorial 42nd Division and the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC Corps). His main defences were on the western bank of the canal, but strong outposts were established on the eastern bank. The British, enjoying the benefits of aerial reconnaissance, were well aware of the approach of the Turkish forces as they painfully trudged across the desert in late January 1915. However, a night march concealed the final stages of the Turks’ approach to Ismailia on the canal just north of the Bitter Lakes.
The attack across the canal was launched by the main column and two flanking forces in the early morning of 3 February 1915. They were soon sighted and a vigorous fire totally disrupted the crossing. Although many of the Turks panicked, caught in boats holding about thirty men each, two companies managed to cross the canal and establish a small bridgehead which was then supported by the Turkish artillery firing over the canal. But the British brought their ships up the canal to fire directly into the Turkish positions. Repeated counter-attacks by an Indian brigade wiped out most of the isolated force on the western bank and the Turks ordered a reluctant retreat back across the desert. The Turks had been far too optimistic in their plans. Yet they had performed reasonably well, dragging themselves across the hostile desert environment and then fighting with considerable courage. Perversely, the Allies seemed to have taken this plucky failure as another sign that the Turks were militarily negligible.
It was not so much the Turks’ military competence that worried the Royal Navy senior admirals but rather the sanity of what they were being asked to achieve in taking and holding the Gallipoli Peninsula. How could ships take and hold an area of ground? Already two battalions of Royal Marine Light Infantry had been despatched by the Admiralty to take possession of the island of Lemnos, which had been captured by the Greeks from the Turks in 1912 but which they had now conveniently abandoned so that the British could make use of its natural harbour of Mudros without compromising Greek neutrality. These marines would then be available to be used as demolition parties to complete the destruction of the Turkish batteries in the Dardanelles. Kitchener also promised to make troops available for the later stages of the operations if needed. This opened a Pandora’s box. If troops could be sent later, why not immediately so as to be ready at the point of need rather than when it might be too late? Admiral Sir Henry Jackson summed up the Admiralty view on the Carden plan: ‘The naval bombardment is not recommended as a sound operation unless a strong military force is ready to assist it, or, at least, to follow it up immediately the forts are silenced.’2 Proposals multiplied for additions to this force, with the Royal Naval Division (RND) being sent out in February, the ANZAC Corps already in Egypt and the French having promised a division for any land operations. This fatal drift, reflecting the faulty thinking that had triggered the initial decisions, soon spread into the War Council itself when, on 16 February, it decided that the regular 29th Division should be sent out to act as further support for the naval operations. But Kitchener, wary as ever of major troop commitments away from the Western Front, had changed his mind by the 19 February meeting of the War Council. He subsequently acidly enquired at the next meeting, on 24 February, what all these forces were required for when Churchill had already promised the Dardanelles could be forced without troops. Nevertheless Kitchener showed his own inner weakness and inability to maintain a coherent thought pattern by stating at the same meeting that if the fleet did not succeed by itself, the army ought to see the business through and there was no going back. As ever, Kitchener feared that embarrassment in the Dardanelles might inspire a revolt in India or promote trouble in Egypt and thereby threaten the Suez Canal.
The despatch of the 29th Division to the eastern Mediterranean became the weathervane of Kitchener’s confidence, or rather lack of it, in the navy’s progress. Promised, then withheld, it was finally despatched on 10 March. The gathering amorphous force took another step forward when Kitchener appointed General Sir Ian Hamilton to take command of what had almost by default become the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force (MEF) on 12 March 1915. There were even hopes of cooperation with a Russian fleet and army corps should the Allies break through and threaten Constantinople itself. Therefore, as a single service endeavour, the naval campaign was already compromised before it had started.
After a long interval following the experimental bombardment back on 3 November 1914, the Allied fleet commenced the first stages of Carden’s methodical plan with the shelling of the Sedd el Bahr (Fort No. 3), Kum Kale (Fort No. 6) and Orkanie (Fort No. 4) at the entrance of the Dardanelles at 09.51 on 19 February 1915. The Royal Navy had never practised firing at shore targets. Now it was shooting at long range, each ship only using a single gun at a time in order to save ammunition and wear to the gun barrels. The gunners soon found they had difficulties hitting their targets. The minimal results were to prove all too typical of the campaign that followed. The forts seemed to have been subdued, but then would miraculously resume their fire once the naval shells had stopped dropping all around them. Unless a shell actually hit a gun, or detonated an ammunition dump, the damage done was largely superficial; it was later estimated that just 2–3 per cent of shells would hit such a small target at 12,000 yards. The Turkish crews were safe underground or behind soli
d earthworks, shaken undoubtedly by the thunderous explosions but ready enough to emerge to man the guns when necessary.
Bad weather soon hampered operations and the next major attack on the entrance forts was carried out on 25 February. As the ships moved into position the forts burst into life as if nothing had happened a week earlier. Fort No. 1 at Helles made excellent practice with its two 9.4-inch guns pelting the Agamemnon with shells. Midshipman Herbert Williams found it unnerving.
It was not exactly a bean feast this time and we had a very unpleasant 10 minutes and at the time I would have given anything in the world to have been back at Portland. I was stationed in the conning tower and so had quite a good view. I found that watching the enemy’s guns fire and waiting 15 seconds or so for the screech of the projectile coming over was a distinctly nerve-wracking experience. I kept on wondering whether it would be the next one or the one after that would lay me out. I had to go for a stretcher party once and if any outsider had seen me streaking across the upper deck he might have mistaken me for a really good runner. I have come to the conclusion that only those who have been in action during the course of their lives know what real funk is. A little blood makes such an awful mess and I thanked heaven I was not a doctor, as a small fragment of shell makes a ghastly wound.3
Midshipman Herbert Williams, HMS Agamemnon
In just ten minutes the Agamemnon was hit seven times, but not badly damaged. Attacked from three sides, the forts began to show signs of wear and tear with guns dismounted. Their fire ground to a halt, allowing the warships to close to a near point blank range of 2,000 yards where they could open up with their secondary armaments. All in all it was one of the more successful days for Carden’s fleet.
The next day, 26 February, the pre-dreadnoughts moved into the Straits, firing into the reverse side of the entrance forts and then moving to engage the intermediate forts, including Forts Dardanos (Fort No. 8) and Messudieh (Fort No. 7) up to Kephez Point. While this was going on it was decided that impromptu naval landing parties would complete the destruction of the forts and abandoned gun batteries at Kum Kale and Sedd el Bahr. A demolition party of fifty sailors under Lieutenant Commander Eric Robinson raised from the Vengeance and accompanied by fifty marines, landed unopposed at Kum Kale pier at 14.30. They shook out and began to move south through the cemetery outside Kum Kale to Fort No. 4 at Orkanie Mound. A vigorous opposition soon built up, pressing in from across the River Mendere on their left and centred on the Yeni Shehr windmills behind the battery. Despite heavy fire Robinson managed to blow up two Turkish guns on Achilles Mound and then pushed on to destroy the last remaining 9.4-inch gun of the Orkanie battery. His one big advantage was the support of the Vengeance, Dublin and Basilisk lurking close offshore. This was to some extent neutralised when it became apparent that the naval gunlayers would have great problems picking out their targets, which were often either screened by features in the foreground, or merged seamlessly into the background haze.
We were laying off the Asiatic side covering our party, and had been watching Eric Robinson strolling round by himself under heavy rifle fire from the neighbouring rise, like a sparrow enjoying a bath from a garden hose, until the Dublin turned the hose off with some nicely placed salvos. He and his party and escort were returning to the boats, when a fresh turmoil started all round them. They had now passed out of sight in the trees of Kum Kale cemetery, and none of us could see what was happening. At length they got a signal through to say they were held up with the main body of the enemy in a large domed tomb. The control could see the tomb and I could just distinguish its top when they put me on. It was invisible at the guns, but I was able to note its whereabouts in the treetops, and went down to let off a 6″ lyddite. The range was short and the rangefinder had it exactly, so the first round sent the tomb and fragments of its inmates, both ancient and modern, flying heavenwards. Using the burst as a starting point there was no further difficulty in taking the guns on to any other target to get our people clear.4
Captain Bertram Smith, HMS Vengeance
Lieutenant Commander Robinson, who had taken extreme personal risks trying to reduce casualties to a minimum, was subsequently awarded the VC. A similar landing at Sedd el Bahr by a party from the Irresistible succeeded in demolishing the main battery of the old fort but was unable to advance up to Fort No. 1 when resistance strengthened. These landings were repeated in the days that followed, in order to check results and ensure the complete destruction of all the guns, thereby silencing the entrance forts.
These British raids were in effect taking the Turks through a step-by-step guide to the weaknesses of the Turkish defences at the entrance to the Straits. The final stage of this tactical primer occurred on 4 March when a larger scale enterprise met with a far more vigorous Turkish response. Two companies of the Plymouth Battalion, Royal Marine Light Infantry (RMLI) were assigned to the landings at Kum Kale and Sedd el Bahr. At 10.30 the marines landed at the small Camber harbour that nestled below Sedd el Bahr village and alongside the fort. Among them was Lieutenant Charles Lamplough.
When we got just off Sedd el Bahr the fleet started bombarding like blazes. It looked very nice and as if we should have no opposition. Well, we got into our cutters and finally got ashore and everything looked in our favour. The patrols got out and went up the cliff. One went to the top through the fort and the others straight up. When they got to the top they got it thick – poor old Baldwin was very soon caught. He got one through the head and died a little time after. Then we had a good deal of firing. I finally found we could not get up there as they were in the ruined houses sniping us, so we found where they were. I came down to the beach and signalled which houses we wanted shelling and they let them have it. Then I took my patrol up and we did not have much opposition. Dickinson got hit in the leg and had to be taken off but he is alright – but Jones of 14 Platoon was killed and also Dyter of 13 Platoon. We had quite a nice little scrap and then they sent a lot of shrapnel over, but they did not get us.5
Lieutenant Charles Lamplough, Plymouth Battalion, RMLI
Lance Corporal Harold Benfell was one of the first ashore, his patrol cautiously feeling their way into the Sedd el Bahr fort. At first everything seemed quiet enough.
I signalled back to the officer commanding that all was quite clear, the place seeming to be forsaken and quite dead; but we found it very much alive. Within 10 minutes I received two bullets – one through the top left pocket and another under my right arm. For a second I stood gazing around to see where the man was that fired but he was concealed. More bullets came across and I made my way inside the fort for cover, though very little was to be found. I was followed there by two other men out of my section and we considered ourselves cut off from all communication. An hour passed away before we could get out of this place and the three of us lay there on the ruined wall which had been blown down by our ship’s gun. The bullets were whizzing around us and I can assure you we had a very warm time.6
Lance Corporal Harold Benfell, Plymouth Battalion, RMLI
Given this hot reception, a request was made for reinforcements but it was decided to withdraw the landing party instead at around 15.00 under covering fire from the ships. They had managed little more than the reported destruction of two Nordenfelt guns. Their comrades fared no better at Kum Kale. Indeed, having landed a little after 10.00 at Kum Kale pier, they soon encountered a far greater number of purposeful Turks. They too achieved little and were only rescued by dint of a helpful series of interventions by the supporting ships.
We had little opposition and a few casualties before landing, but after it got hotter as there were about half a dozen windmills which were full of snipers so it held up our job, until they signalled back to the Navy who concentrated their fire on them and up they went like skittles, the best bit of firing I saw during the whole war.7
Private Ben Sinfield, Plymouth Battalion, RMLI
The withdrawal was chaotic, with the destroyers having to move in close to p
rovide covering fire while smaller boats rescued the isolated stragglers before it was completed at 19.45. The Turks were becoming far more accomplished at working round the threat posed by naval gunfire.
Meanwhile the main naval operations proceeding in tandem against the intermediate forts were not progressing well. Carden was cautious in deploying no more than three of his pre-dreadnoughts at a time, thereby at a stroke reducing the potential for a truly crushing bombardment of the targeted forts. This, combined with the limitations on firing salvos, meant that little was achieved. Some imagination was shown on 5 March when the 15-inch guns of the Queen Elizabeth were fired right across the peninsula at the Kilid Bahr group of forts: Rumili Medjidieh (Fort No. 13), Fort Hamidieh II (No. 16) and Fort Namazgah (No. 17). But there were problems in achieving coordination by wireless with spotting ships in the Straits; it was hoped that the seaplanes from the Ark Royal would be able to correct the fire. So it was that at 11.00 Flight Lieutenant W. H. S. Garnett and his observer, Lieutenant Commander H. A. Williamson, took off in their Sopwith seaplane with hope in their hearts.
It was a perfect day, with just the right amount of wind for taking off from the water, and we were soon in the air. It was an exhilarating moment. There below was the Queen Elizabeth with her eight 15-inch guns ready to fire and trained on the coast. The conditions were ideal; stationary ships and stationary target, only eight miles apart, and perfect visibility. I was filled with confident expectation. We soon reached 3,000 feet and were ready to cross the peninsula to the target. Then it happened. In a moment the machine was out of control and we were hurtling towards the sea.8
Lieutenant Commander H. A. Williamson, HMS Ark Royal
The seaplane’s propeller had broken up in midair and it was a miracle that both Williamson and Garnett survived. The next seaplane to take off could not gain sufficient altitude and the pilot was wounded by a rifle bullet in the leg, forcing him to return. So far nothing had been achieved and a third seaplane seems to have only sent one successful range correction. Similar forays from the Queen Elizabeth over the next two days were no more successful. It was evident that the frightening limitations of the seaplanes made them all but useless for effective observation. To compound the insult, the Queen Elizabeth was also chivvied mercilessly by howitzer batteries, causing some superficial damage to her superstructure. In the end the idea was abandoned.
