by Peter Hart
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
Unable to see properly through the swirling smoke and dust, Unwin used bearings taken on an earlier reconnaissance to guide him into the correct spot. As the River Clyde approached the beach it came under harassing shell fire from just across the Straits. It did not have much sea way and ran aground with barely a shudder at 06.22 some eighty yards from shore, a little further out than had been hoped. Despite Unwin’s desperate manoeuvrings it still hit the beach a couple of minutes before the first of the rowing boats. Until this time the Turks had not fired a shot. The tows carrying the Dublin Fusiliers slowly approached the beach. Each cutter carried about thirty-six men; four cutters were strung together and towed along by a steam launch.
As soon as the tows got into shallow water the picquet boats cast off and the bluejackets commenced to row. You can imagine how slowly we progressed – six men pulling a heavy boat with about thirty soldiers each carrying over 60-lbs kit and ammunition on his body!!6
Captain David French, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
The beaching of the River Clyde seems to have acted as the catalyst for a storm of fire, which lashed across the open boats.
All the men pulling at the oars were either killed or wounded. Able Seaman Leach, though wounded, was the only one still pulling. When we came within 15 yards of the hopper, an RND officer shouted to us to jump out of the boat and swim for it. Weblin and I both jumped out and tried to swim to the hopper, but we found our packs too heavy, and returned to our boat. We hung on to the lifelines for a few minutes, as we could not get into her, she was so high out of the water. However, at last Weblin managed to push me over the gunwale; I then pulled him on board, but with the loss of his pack. While hanging on the lines I got hit, a bullet running under my vest and across my shoulders, just taking some flesh off my shoulder-blade. Also my cap was knocked off. Bullets were flying everywhere, some coming on one side and some the other. The boat was riddled, full of bullet holes, and half full of water. We knew it was hopeless to stay where we were, so we sat at the bottom of the boat in the water and rowed towards the hopper, pulling with our arms above our heads. We got there all right, jumped out, and secured our boat. Here I got another bullet across the back of the hand.7
Midshipman Maurice Lloyd, HMS Cornwallis
The Turkish riflemen could hardly miss such a target – and they began to wreak a horrifying slaughter.
They opened a terrible fire on us with machine guns and pom-poms, the shells of which contained an incendiary mixture. They began to hit the boat I was in very frequently and killed many of my men as we were rowing ashore. We were also unlucky enough to lose several of the blue jackets who were rowing us in. The men had to take over their oars and as they did not know much about rowing the result was that we often got broadside on to the shore and presented a better target to the enemy. Just before we grounded the boat got hit once or twice with incendiary shells and commenced to go on fire. She was also half full of water from the many holes in her by this time. Several of the men who had been wounded fell to the bottom of the boat and were either drowned there or suffocated by other men falling on top of them; many, to add to their death agonies, were burnt as well.8
Lieutenant Cuthbert Maffett, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Trapped in the close confines of the rowing boats the men were utterly helpless and, almost before they knew what was happening, they had been shot to pieces. Captain David French, who was in the last boat of his tow, watched horrified as the Turks methodically dealt with each boat in turn.
Having practically wiped out those in the other three boats ahead they were now concentrating their fire on us. I jumped out at once into the sea, up to my chest and yelling to the men to make a rush for it and to follow me. But the poor devils, packed like sardines in a tin and carrying this damnable weight on their backs, could scarcely clamber over the sides of the boat.9
Captain David French, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
It was a desperate business. The torrent of fire was such that the British have always maintained that there were at least two Turkish machine guns at V Beach, one high to the left and the other in the walls of the castle. Once more this belief seems to fly in the face of Turkish evidence. The 26th Regiment had no machine guns. This controversial matter therefore sets the deepest-held convictions of men who were there against dry documentation. Perhaps some of the confusion at V Beach arises from the admitted presence of four Nordenfelt pom-poms (two of which were knocked out early in the fighting), which had a high rate of fire and might well have been thought of as old pattern Maxim guns by some witnesses. Furthermore, their destructive small shells, coupled with rapid rifle fire and the overwhelming masking roar of the massed British machine guns aboard the River Clyde, may have confused men with no time to think coolly about what exactly was shooting at them. They only knew that they were being splattered with bullets from all angles. Certainly the Turkish infantry were well drilled in musketry and able to mimic the deadly effects of machine guns in short concentrated bursts of fire at such easy targets. As at W Beach, the Dublins were the victims of a murderous attack that raked through their ranks. Captain French was one of those who made a dash for the shore, but as he had abandoned his rowing boat well out in the bay he still had a long, long way to go, stumbling through the shallows.
I had to run about 100–150 yards in the water and being the first away from the cutter escaped the fire a bit to start with. But as soon as a few followed me, the water around seemed to be alive, the bullets striking the sea all around us. Heaven alone knows how I got thro’ a perfect hail of bullets. The beach sloped very gently – fortunately! When I was about 50 yards from the water’s edge I felt one bullet go thro’ the pack on my back and then thought I had got through safely when they put one through my left arm. The fellows in the regiment had told me I was getting too fat to run, but those who saw me go through that bit of water changed their opinions later – I ran like hell!!!!!10
Captain David French, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
French staggered ashore and took shelter under a low earth bank just five feet high which was his only protection from fire. He was about fifty yards to the left of where the River Clyde had grounded. There he lay, helpless, confused and under heavy fire every time he tried to move. There was no chance of an organised attack on the Turks, who remained in complete control of the situation. Meanwhile, the boats that had managed to get further in were still being subjected to the full force of close-range concentrated Turkish fire.
We then grounded, and I jumped out of the bows of the boat and got hit in the head by a machine gun bullet, others going into a pack that I was carrying on my shoulders. I went under water and came up again, and tried to encourage the men to get to the shore and under cover as fast as they could as it was their only chance. I then went under again. Someone caught hold of me and began pulling me ashore, and as I got to dry land a bluejacket joined him. When I recovered a bit I found it was my Platoon Sergeant – Sergeant Willis. I did not see him again that day as far as I remember. Two men got ashore beside me and then two more that were wounded. We took cover under a low sort of bank that was about 10 yards from the water’s edge, and bound each other up as best we could. Looking out to sea I saw the remnants of my platoon trying to get to the shore, but they were shot down one after another, and their bodies drifted out to sea or lay immersed a few feet from the shore. I found myself at the extreme left of the beach, and put the men I had around me on the alert for a rush from the enemy: of course we could not have done any good.11
Lieutenant Cuthbert Maffett, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Many of the boats carrying the Dublin Fusiliers were marooned, either grounded broadside on to the beach or bobbing about helplessly offshore. Here they stayed, filled with their grim cargo of the dead, the wounded and the few luc
ky survivors.
There were twenty-five in my boat, and there were only three of us left. It was sad to hear our poor chums moaning, and to see others dead in the boat. It was a terrible sight to see the poor boys dead in the water; others on the beach roaring for help. But we could do nothing for them. I must have had someone’s good prayer for I do not know how I escaped. Those who were lying wounded on the shore, in the evening the tide came in and they were all drowned, and I was left by myself on the beach. I had to remain in the water for about three hours, as they would fire on me as soon as they saw me make a move. I thought my life was up every minute.12
Private Robert Martin, 1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
The sailors were unable to get the boats away from the lethal reach of the Turks. Every purposeful movement merely attracted the renewed attentions of their tormentors and another lashing of bullets.
I got hit in the right shoulder and of course down I went – anyway we got the boat ashore and the soldiers – those that could – got out. By this time all my boat’s crew were either killed or wounded so we had to stop there under a hail of bullets from Maxims and rifle fire. We remained there for about 9 hours. Every time one of us got up to try and get the boat offshore we were met with a hail of bullets.13
Able Seaman Dick Rickus, HMS Cornwallis
After just a few minutes there was little left of the Dublins. Lieutenant Colonel Richard Rooth had been shot dead on the beach, his second-in-command, Major Edwyn Fetherstonhaugh, was lying mortally wounded in his boat and most of the other officers were either dead or wounded.
The only exception to the general slaughter was the single tow of boats landed at the Camber, round the corner into the Straits and immediately below a step track leading up to the Sedd el Bahr village. This was where the marines had had a rough reception when they had landed there on their raid of 4 March.
About 50 or a 100 yards from the shore the steamboats slowed down, the pulling boats were slipped, and the orders, ‘Oars down! Give way together!’ were given and we were pulling like mad for the beach. Whiz! A shrapnel burst overhead; everybody ducked. I looked round. Nobody was touched. But going in yet closer we were peppered with the stuff and a lot of balls fell into the boat. We were soon alongside the Camber, which was directly under the wall of the fort, and all the soldiers jumped ashore and took cover under a wall with no casualties. My boat was the first to beach, likewise the first to get away, and as we went out we received a few more words of cheer in the form of shrapnel.14
Midshipman Haydon Forbes, HMS Cornwallis
The half company of Dublin Fusiliers fought their way up the hill and managed to enter the village. However, here they were gradually out-fought and overwhelmed by the Turks – few escaped.
While the Dublin Fusiliers suffered, the River Clyde was getting ready to discharge its hidden cargo. Now was the time for the steam hopper and lighters to move smoothly round from her port side and form a bridge between the platform attached to her bows and the beach. The steam hopper was commanded by Midshipman George Drewry, aided by six Greek crewmen who had been volunteered for the task in all ignorance of what lay in front of them. Let it not be forgotten that Greece was not at war; this was emphatically not these men’s fight. When they realised what was happening they reacted badly: they reversed the engines and the steersman violently changed course to port before they all took cover below decks. The steam hopper was left drifting away from the port side of the River Clyde until it ran aground at completely the wrong angle to act as a route to the beach. Drewry and Able Seaman George Samson tried their best to redress the situation, but it was hopeless.
Samson and I tried to put a brow out over the bow, the Greeks had run below and two of us could not do it, so I told him also to get out of the ‘rain’ and I jumped over the bow and waded ashore.15
Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde
Meanwhile, Unwin was a desperate man: he could see that his scheme was collapsing. How were the men to get ashore? They could not jump into six feet or more of water and emerge in any fit state to fight. With no time to think of his own safety, he leapt into action, closely accompanied by Able Seaman William Williams. Together the two men were striving to resolve the crisis through their own efforts, even at the likely cost of their lives.
I dashed over the side and got hold of the lighters which I had been towing astern and which had shot ahead by their impetus when we took the beach. These I got under the bow and found Williams with me. I had told him the night before to keep with me and he did so literally. We got them connected to the bows and then proceeded to connect them to the beach, but we had nothing to secure to, so we had to hold on to the rope ourselves. When we had got the lighters close enough to the shore I sang out to the troops to come out.16
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
Inside the bowels of the River Clyde the men of the 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers were ready. Captain Henderson was first away, leading Z Company out of the starboard exit ports and then running down the rickety gangway on to the lighters.
Henderson led his company, ordering me to follow at the end of the first platoon. One by one they popped out, and then my turn. All the way down the side of the ship bullets crashed against the side. On reaching the first barge I found some of the men had collected and were firing. I mistrusted the second barge and the track to the shore so I led them over the side; the water came nearly up to our shoulders. However, none of us were hit and we gained the bank. There I found Henderson badly hit and heaps of wounded. Any man who put his head up for an instant was shot dead.17
Captain Raymond Lane, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Crouching under a small five-foot bank about ten yards from the water’s edge, Captain Lane found himself helplessly pinned down. The barbed wire defences lay inviolate about twenty-five yards in front of him.
The bank we were under had a small nullah running up towards the barbed wire. I worked my way up under the right-hand wall and then tried to cross it, running as fast as I could; a sniper at the top let fly at me, the bullet went through my right ankle and carried on sideways, smashing my left leg to bits. One of my platoon then came out very pluckily and pulled me to safety. I had only been on the beach five minutes and never saw a Turk.18
Captain Raymond Lane, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Any attempt to break it out of the beach area had minimal chance of success as long as the Turks maintained their concentration and fire discipline. Unwin and Williams, however, seemed to live charmed lives. With bullets splattering all about them in the water, together they clung on to the line that was the only thing anchoring the lighter bridge to the shore. The massed machine guns on the River Clyde were their saviours, for they helped to keep the Turks’ heads down.
The Turks seemed to concentrate on the lighters more than on the River Clyde, and it was on the lighters and the reef that the greatest number of dead and wounded lay. Of course many of them fell into the water and were drowned – we were literally standing in blood.19
Commander Edward Unwin, River Clyde
Drewry, meanwhile, was struggling ashore from the steam hopper.
I waded ashore, meeting a soldier wounded in the water. I and another soldier tried to carry him ashore but he was again shot in our arms – his neck in two pieces nearly, so we left him and I ran along the beach towards the spit.20
Midshipman George Drewry, River Clyde
On the port side Captain Geddes, leading X Company, was slightly slower in getting his men out through the exit ports, as their gangway jammed. By then he knew what they were about to face when they burst from the dark security of the River Clyde. But out they went into a blaze of sunshine and death, watched by the few survivors of the Dublins left huddled along the beach.
We got it like anything, man after man behind me was shot down but they never wavered. Lieutenant Watts who was wounded in five places and lyin
g on the gangway cheered the men on with cries of ‘Follow the Captain!’ Captain French of the Dublins told me afterwards that he counted the first 48 men to follow me, and they all fell. I think no finer episode could be found of the men’s bravery and discipline than this – of leaving the safety of the River Clyde to go to what was practically certain death. I dashed down the gangway and already found the lighters holding the dead and wounded from the leading platoons of ‘Z’ Company. I stepped on the second lighter and looked round to find myself alone, and yelled to the men following out of the Clyde to come on, but it was difficult going across the lighters.21
Captain Guy Geddes, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Just then, when Captain Geddes and the survivors of X Company were already under heavy fire, the makeshift bridge temporarily broke loose in front of them and their lighter drifted away to port once again. They were left staring at a widening gap of deep water, while the bullets thudded among them. There was no time to lose.
I then jumped into the sea and had to swim some dozen strokes to get ashore. There is no doubt that men were drowned owing chiefly, I think, to the great weight they were carrying – a full pack, 250 rounds of ammunition, and 3 days’ rations – I know I felt it. All the officers were dressed and equipped like the men. There was a small rocky spit jutting out into the sea, which was absolutely taped down by the Turks and few, if any, survived who attempted to land there.22
Captain Guy Geddes, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
