by Peter Hart
One enigmatic character caught up in the River Clyde plans was Lieutenant Colonel Charles (known as Dick) Doughty Wylie, a staff officer attached to the 29th Division. Born in 1868, he had seen considerable military service before spending periods as first a military consul and then as Director in Chief of Red Cross Units in Turkey during the Balkan Wars. His wife Lily Doughty Wylie was working – in her husband’s view overworking – in a hospital in France. Dick Doughty Wylie was a dashing, tall, blue-eyed literary soldier and there was much speculation about his strange quasi-affair with the famous Arabist archaeologist Gertrude Bell. However, he also cared deeply for his wife and worried what would happen to her if he was killed.
Lily would feel intolerably lonely and hopeless after her long hours of work, which would tell on anybody’s spirit and vitality. She talks about overdoses of morphia and such things. I think that in reality she is too brave and strong minded for such things, but still the saying weighs on my spirits. If you hear I’m killed go over at once to France and seek her out; don’t lose any time, but go and look after her. Don’t take her away from the work, for it will be best for her to work, but manage to stay somewhere near and see her through. I haven’t told her yet of this wrecked ship because I don’t want her to know till it’s over. This is a very interesting show from every point of view – but it runs a great many chances however one looks at it. It may be a success and is certainly bold enough in idea. Don’t be unduly anxious over this business – it’s all in the day’s work as far as I am concerned.20
Lieutenant Colonel Dick Doughty Wylie, Headquarters, 29th Division
There was pandemonium in the crowded Mudros harbour in the final few days before the invasion fleet set off. The final prerequisite for a successful operation was not in the Allies’ hands – fair weather. The original intended landing date was 23 April, but a gale on the morning of 21 April forced a postponement of forty-eight hours. The date was finally set for 25 April. The ships set off in carnival atmosphere on 24 April. As each transport moved away the cheers rang out. They were heading for their preliminary rendezvous off the islands of Tenedos (for the Helles force) and Imbros (for the Anzac force).
As they moved slowly across the Aegean an air of tension built up that afflicted almost everyone aboard the River Clyde. For the most part Commander Unwin acted as the officer of the watch on the bridge, although he briefly allowed Midshipman Drewry to stand a turn.
At 2 a.m. or thereabouts the Captain turned over to me and I found myself on the bridge very sleepy with only the helmsman, steering towards the Turkish searchlights on a calm night just making headway against the current, shadowy forms of destroyers and battleships slipping past me. Visions of mines and submarines rose up before me as I thought of the 2,500 men in the holds and I felt very young.21
Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde
After just an hour or so, Unwin came back on to the bridge and ordered Drewry, accompanied by Seaman George Samson, to board the steam hopper.
As the River Clyde made her slow journey to Helles time weighed heavily for these young men about to risk all for their country. Although they knew that they should get some rest, that it might be their last opportunity for a couple of days, their circumstances prevented easy slumbers.
The night was bitterly cold. The holds were crowded and uncomfortable. Some of the officers went up on to the deck. I tried to get some sleep but the cold and hard iron decks were not congenial to sleep. I did find a warm sheltered spot near the engines, but as I was dozing off a heavy sea boot was planted firmly on my face – I had overlooked the fact that I was lying across the doorway to the engine room!22
Second Lieutenant Reginald Gillett, 2nd Hampshire Regiment, 88th Brigade, 29th Division
Whatever their commanders may have thought, many of the men realised that they were about to undergo a severe ordeal that might well be their last. It was not a cheery prospect.
I felt we were for it. That the enterprise was unique and would demand all I was possible of giving, and more. That it was no picnic but a desperate venture. I just longed to get on with it and be done with it. I felt I was no hero and that I had not the pluck of a louse. My nerves were tense and strung up, and yet I never doubted that we would not win through, because I knew the splendid fellows at my back, highly trained, strictly disciplined, and they would follow me anywhere.23
Captain Guy Geddes, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
So the Allied convoys moved with grim purpose to their various landing points scattered up and down the Peninsula. Nothing could stop them, so the soldiers were told. But all the same, they could not help but worry.
25 APRIL: LANDINGS AT ANZAC
Almost all parts of this plateau were bombarded with high explosive shells and shrapnel. This bombardment proclaimed that a bitter, hard-fought wrestling match was about to begin between the brave stubborn Australian soldiers and the warlike sons of Turkey who were filling the pages of world history.1
Lieutenant Colonel Mehmet Sefik,2 Headquarters, 27th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Army
THE ANZAC CORPS was inexperienced and had undergone the bare minimum of training, yet it had been given a task under Hamilton’s plans which, in clichéd military parlance, would have daunted Napoleon’s Old Guard. They were to make a night landing on a hostile shore, overcome an ill-defined opposition, take control of the high ground surrounding the landing beaches and then push across the Peninsula to seize Mal Tepe, thereby severing Turkish communications. All that in one day before the even more daunting task of launching a joint attack with the British advancing from Helles on the imposing bulk of the Kilid Bahr Plateau on the second day. Presumably the third day would be devoted to rest, the sanctifying of their labours and watching the fleet sail through the Narrows. What the Turks might do in response – the delaying tactics of their screens near the landing place, the possibility of ferocious counterattacks by their concentrated battalions – were treated as irrelevancies in the great British scheme of things.
Even before the fighting started, many of the Anzac officers were well aware that this was an ambitious programme.
Tomorrow must be the most eventful day of my life; cannot feel flurried or excited but tomorrow will tell a different tale. We are to drive a wedge into the Turks, who are also being attacked by the British at the point. If we are successful we will get the beaten Turks on us on one side trying to get home, and the relieving Turks on the other, trying to get down to help. I pray that God will bless and guard all those near and dear to me and that time in its mercy will wash away all memories of these anxious times for the dear ones at home waiting news.3
Captain Carl Jess, Headquarters, 4th Australian Brigade, NZ&A Division, AIF
Above all, their own personal fears were intertwined with their duties to those around them. The higher the rank, of course, the greater the responsibilities and so the more sinking the awareness of the manifold pitfalls that could lie ahead of them. First ashore would be the 1st Division, commanded by Major General Sir William Bridges; but the most worried of all – and with good reason – was Colonel Ewen Sinclair-MacLagan in command of the 3rd Brigade, the force that would be first ashore and charged with the vital task of taking up positions along the Third Ridge feature that stretched from Battleship Hill on the main Sari Bair range, though Scrubby Knoll and extending right down as far as Gaba Tepe. Once in situ they were to cover the disembarkation of the main body. The next ashore would be the 2nd Brigade under Colonel James M’Cay, who had the task of securing all of the Sari Bair range right up to Hill 971. The 1st Brigade, commanded by Colonel Henry MacLaurin, was to act as the 1st Division reserve. Only when the NZ&A Division was safely ashore would the ANZAC Corps begin its advance on Mal Tepe.
The commander of the destroyer Colne gave me his bunk, but I simply could not sleep. Although I knew that all the orders for the operations had been clear and most carefully thought out, had we, the Brigade Staff, provided for any and every
eventuality? How was Brigade Headquarters to keep in touch with the units of the Brigade scattered over a 4,000 to 5,000 yard front and on foot? If opposition was even only moderately serious, could units keep touch with one another? Was the reserve battalion placed in the right position? Were the ‘poor’ maps issued to us accurate enough to be depended on, especially for the naval covering fire? If that was wire-entanglement in the water, on the north shore of Gaba Tepe, could the men get through it, or would they be drowned and so leave my right flank open? How could I replace them from the reserve? These and many other thoughts of a similar nature kept me wide awake until we got into the boats for the last few yards to shore.4
Colonel Ewen Sinclair-MacLagan, Headquarters, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, AIF
He was by no means the only man to find sleep difficult that night.
The first wave would be just 1,500 men, made up of two companies each from the 9th, 10th and 11th Battalions of Sinclair-MacLagan’s 3rd Brigade, who were to land from twelve tows each consisting of a steamboat and three rowing boats. They were to land across a broad front with the right flank string of tows about a mile north of Gaba Tepe and the left flank tows some 1,600 yards further to the north. This meant that they were intended to land between a point halfway along Brighton Beach to somewhere near Hell Spit at the south end of what would become known as Anzac Cove. There was an assumption that, except at the aforementioned Gaba Tepe, there were very few Turks in the immediate area and that wherever they landed, and indeed whatever happened, the Anzacs would be able to achieve their objectives with relative ease. The possibility of a virile Turkish opposition was not really considered.
Facing the 3rd Brigade was the Turkish 2nd Battalion, 27th Regiment scattered in various outposts all along the five and a half miles of coastline from Aghyl Dere, north of Fisherman’s Hut, to Semerely Tepe, well south of Gaba Tepe. The 4th Company was most directly involved with the ninety men of 2nd Platoon under the command of Second Lieutenant Muharrem directly facing the invaders at Anzac Cove on Ari Burnu and Plugge’s Plateau. Further to the north were the sixty to seventy men of the 1st Platoon under Second Lieutenant Ibrahim Hayrettin, based on the hills around Fisherman’s Hut. The reserve 3rd Platoon was back on Second Ridge along with company commander Captain Faik. The regimental headquarters was well dug in on Gaba Tepe, armed with two old multi-barrelled Nordenfelt guns with further small outposts trickling along Bolton’s Ridge looking down on Brighton Beach. The weakness of this screening force worried many Turkish officers who would have preferred to have tried to prevent the British from landing in the first place rather than to contain them prior to counter-attacks, as demanded by Liman.
Thinking that the Battalion was in a difficult situation and that in the event that they were hard pressed by, for example, a sudden enemy landing by night, it might not be possible to reinforce them, I consulted orally with Divisional Command with a view to understanding the reason for the remaining forces of the regiment being stationed at Maidos and, if possible, to have the Regiment located closer to the above mentioned Battalion. Formerly a large part of 27th Regiment was positioned immediately behind Ari Burnu and this was intended to intervene at once in the event of a landing.5
Lieutenant Colonel Mehmet Sefik, Headquarters, 27th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Turkish Army
But, despite such concerns, Liman’s policy of offering a mere trip wire defence remained in place. The Turks had gained from the Germans’ energy and drive, but they also had to fall in with the German solution to the defence of the Peninsula.
THE NAVAL SHIPS of the covering force crept in early on the morning of 25 April. It was a tricky business as they had to time their approach to avoid both the light of the moon, which would set at 02.56, and the onset of dawn at around 04.00.
At 1 a.m. on going on deck one found that we were proceeding very slowly. The reason for this was the brilliance of the moon. The sailors’ friend in peace has become one of his worst foes in war and on this occasion she was at her best and brightest, so much so that one could see for miles. In consequence we were a little late at the rendezvous, but very little, and the transfer of the boats took place without incident. Immediately prior to falling in, the men were given a tot each to keep the cockles warm during their cramped and tedious passage in the boats. The embarkation took nearly 40 minutes, and it was some little time longer before the order, ‘Go on!’ was given by megaphone.6
Commander Charles Dix, HMS Majestic
As this was going on, the soldiers in the second wave of the 3rd Brigade were transferring from the troopships to the destroyers from which they would be landed. Maintaining silence was difficult and there were idiots at every level.
They clambered out as quickly as their ridiculously heavy kit would allow, and the going on a rope ladder was slow. Commander Godfrey of HMS Beagle was of an impatient nature, and as time was getting on he got more and more snappy at the troops. The strictest silence was the order and it was pitch dark, of course. You can imagine our feelings when the Commander said sternly through his megaphone, in an undertone, ‘Hurry up down that rope ladder there!’ And a big raucous digger’s voice broke the silence of the Aegean with, ‘Put a sock in it; d’yer think we’re ******* trapeze artists?’ The Commander looked livid, but how we enjoyed it. It seemed to relax the tension.7
Captain Arthur Ross, Headquarters, 3rd Infantry Brigade, 1st Division, AIF
As quietly as they could, the assembled forces began to close in on the Peninsula. At 03.30 the battleships halted and the twelve tows were sent forward alone into the stygian darkness. As they moved slowly towards the shore there was considerable uncertainty among the relatively junior naval officers as they struggled to locate the correct landing site. Their orders were somewhat opaque, with room for confusion, especially as the tows were unable to see each other at the specified space between them of 150 yards and so, not unnaturally, began to crowd together, thereby also reducing the width of shoreline upon which they would eventually land. Only the senior officers, Commander Charles Dix in the northernmost tow and Lieutenant Commander John Waterlow in the southernmost one, actually knew where they were intended to land. At the first glimmerings of dawn Midshipman John Metcalf, in the second-most-southerly tow, felt that they were sailing too close to Gaba Tepe. Rightly or wrongly, on his own initiative, he began to steer away to the north.
I realised that we were heading very close to the north side of Gaba Tepe which, because of its height, is very conspicuous. Knowing that there were Turkish troops there and we would get an enfilading fire all along the starboard side as well as from ahead, I was confident that we must be heading for a wrong place. There was no one to consult and I felt the lives of the men I was towing were my responsibility. Without any delay I altered course two points to port to get away from Gaba Tepe. After a quarter of an hour, finding that the tows to the port of me had conformed, I again altered course a point and a half to port.8
Midshipman John Metcalf, HMS Triumph
These were not small course changes – a single point is 11.25 degrees, so in total he had ordered a change of three and a half points or about 40 degrees. The knock-on effects of this radical adjustment soon became obvious. As the senior officer in charge of the flotilla, Dix was horrified when he found the effects of Metcalf’s initiative radically influencing the whole approach path.
At first all seemed to be going well, but when three-quarters of the way ashore the right wing was seen to be steering across the bows of the centre, who were conforming to the movement, thus crowding the left wing: away to port. By this time some of us were awake to the fact that we were already some way to port of our objective and so, in order to save as much ground as possible, the left wing went on at full speed and held their course, only altering to starboard to avoid collision. It was instinctively felt that as soon as the first boat got ashore every other boat would at once put her helm over and do the same, and that the quicker we got there the less would be the error. The first ap
proach of dawn was another reason for speed. Everything was absolutely quiet as we approached the shore and there was nothing to lead one to suppose that the surprise had failed, but as the first boat touched the shore a single shot broke the stillness, almost immediately followed by others, and the firing became general.9
Commander Charles Dix, HMS Majestic
Dix’s actions ensured that the twelve tows would not only land bunched up together, but also were no longer in sequential order – meaning that the landing parties would be disorganised from the off. They were no longer near Gaba Tepe – that was one blessing – but most of the men came ashore clustered around the lesser promontory of Ari Burnu at the north end of the shallow beach that would forever be known as Anzac Cove. It was 04.30: the battle had begun.
THE STEALTHY APPROACH of the Allied fleet to the coast of Gallipoli was detected fairly early on by Turks stationed above Anzac Cove.
At about 02.00 that night the moon was still shining. The patrols on duty from my reserve platoon reported having sighted many enemy ships in the open sea. I got up and looked through the binoculars. I saw, straight in front of us, but rather a long way off, a large number of ships the size of which could not be distinguished. It was not clear whether or not they were moving.10
Captain Faik, 2nd Battalion, 27th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Army
By 02.30, Faik had sent his reports to his company commander, Major Ismet, and to the divisional headquarters. Told to keep on the alert, he roused his reserve platoon for action. At this stage it was still thought that any landing party attacking the 2/27th Regiment would be in the Gaba Tepe sector. Shortly afterwards the moon disappeared and all was dark. The question for the Turks was: where were the Allies heading for?
At the southern end of Anzac Cove was Private Adil Sahin, a local man recruited from the village of Buyuk Anafarta. That fateful morning he was fast asleep in one of the shallow tents when he was rudely awoken by the sentry.
