by Peter Hart
Major Mahmut, 3rd Battalion, 26th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Army
The Turks had been fighting for the best part of two days with little in the way of reinforcements. At 13.30 it was decided that, come what may, they would have to retreat. Soon just the few survivors of 10th Company remained on Hill 141. Their position was desperate indeed: trenches smashed, only a few men left on their feet and fast running out of ammunition.
Now even withdrawal was very difficult because the enemy fleet’s fire was very intense. There was no information from our units, only enemy could be seen at every hand. It was abundantly clear that the enemy would destroy our soldiers as they retreated with the fire of the fleet, his infantry and his machine guns. In fact our line of retreat had been encircled on right and left. In truth there was no course left but to flee. The distance between us was 500–600 metres.62
Major Mahmut, 3rd Battalion, 26th Regiment, 9th Division, Fifth Army
When the final British assault swept up on to Hill 141 at around 14.30 on 26 April, not many Turks made the final stand. Their wounded had to be left, but they were confident that the British would respect them. As they retreated, keeping to ground as best they could, they took every chance to snipe at the advancing British. At least one bullet found its mark.
The men lined round the top edge of the moat firing down on the retreating Turks, who were retiring down their communication trenches in the direction of Achi Baba. It was at this moment that Colonel Doughty Wylie, who had led his men to the last moment, was killed by a shot in the head, dying almost immediately on the summit of the hill he had so ably captured.63
Captain Guy Nightingale, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
Another account of the death of Doughty Wylie exposes the reckless and at times thoughtless nature of his courage.
I was laid down with the company and he was stood up alongside of me, with his orderly. They were shouting to him, ‘Get down, sir, you’ll get hit!’ because there was sniping. He wouldn’t and an explosive bullet hit him just below the eye, blew all the side of his face out – and his orderly got killed.64
Private William Flynn, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
That Doughty Wylie had performed a vital role was undeniable. As a senior staff officer he had marshalled his shaken troops and then inspired them in the final assault by his personal example. In this, his performance could hardly have been bettered. But his death was pointless, for though the Turks had been ejected from a defended position they had by no means given up the fight. Hill 141 was hardly Achi Baba, the first day’s real objective, and there was much more to be done. Doughty Wylie was desperately needed in his role as staff officer: to help arrange the disembarkation of troops, reorganise scattered formations, and ensure that a logistical framework was in place for the next step of the battle by preparing and distributing coherent plans. But his act of foolish bravado in the moment of triumph cost his own life and apparently also that of his servant, who had little option but to stand by his officer. As a prime example of British overconfidence in the face of dangerous Turkish opposition it is hard to beat.
Shortly after Doughty Wylie’s death Lieutenant Colonel Weir De Lancey Williams arrived on top of Hill 141. Immediately recognising the heroism demonstrated by Doughty Wylie, Williams tried to make sure that common decencies were observed in his burial arrangements.
I found him lying dead inside the castle on top of the hill. As soon as I realised he was dead I took his watch, money and a few things I could find and had him buried where he fell. I had this done at once, having seen such disgusting sights of unburied dead in the village that I could not bear to leave him lying there. This was all done hurriedly as I had to reorganise the line and think of further advances and digging in; we just buried him as he lay and I said the Lord’s Prayer over his grave and bid him goodbye. I am firmly of opinion that poor Doughty Wylie realised he would be killed in this war; he was rather a fatalist. I am also convinced that he went singing cheerily to his end.65
Lieutenant Colonel Weir De Lancey Williams, Headquarters, 29th Division
Lieutenant Colonel Tizard had only come ashore when Hill 141 was finally captured. He was to be harshly criticised for his performance on V Beach; indeed, he lost the cherished command of his battalion on the morning of 27 April after a somewhat fraught interview with Hunter-Weston. This was the problem: dull proficiency was still regarded as inferior to more eye-catching death-or-glory antics. The British Army of 1915 lacked professionalism in the real business of war; the chaos on the beaches of Helles was testament to that amateurishness.
Nevertheless incompetence on the ground was not the only reason for the British failure at V Beach. Firstly, the outnumbered Turks had fought with a supreme combination of skill and courage. They had stuck to their positions, often holding on beyond the point where surrender was a feasible option and accepting that they might well be butchered when the British finally over-ran them. This was the root cause of the British defeat. Secondly, the British plans had been ludicrously over-optimistic, relying heavily on the Turks not putting up any serious opposition to the naval bombardment. The battleships were stationed too far off the coast for their guns to achieve the necessary accuracy and even when they came in closer their guns’ flat trajectory made it almost impossible to hit the Turkish trenches lining the brow of the amphitheatre or tucked away on the reverse slopes. Finally, the commendable imagination shown in the conception of the River Clyde scheme had not been matched by an equal attention to detail in its execution. The Trojans of legend had no idea of what lay within the ‘gift’ left them by the Greeks; that indeed was the whole point. At V Beach the Turks could plainly see the gangways, they knew what would happen when the ship ran aground and they had more than enough time to train their rifles on the exit ports. The British plan, risky at best, demanded a night landing when the Turks would have been unable to discern what was going on. Nor would they have been able to see where to concentrate their fire – important since there were not enough of them to cover all the options. The British High Command had simply not thought the matter through. Hundreds of men paid the price.
25 APRIL: KUM KALE AND DIVERSIONS
From the many pale faces among the officers reporting in the early morning it became apparent that although a hostile landing had been expected with certainty, a landing at so many places surprised many and filled them with apprehension.1
General Otto Liman von Sanders, Headquarters, Fifth Army
THE TURKISH XV CORPS, commanded by General Weber Pasha, was responsible for the defence of the Asiatic sector on the south side of the Dardanelles, where the main perceived threat was from possible landings at Kum Kale at the entrance to the Straits and in Besika Bay further to the south. The defensive concept was simple: a weak screen would do their best to obstruct the invaders while the main force of the 3rd and 11th Divisions would counter-attack at night, hidden from the naval guns, and throw the invaders back into the sea.
For the Allies, under Hamilton’s plans the French, under the command of General Albert d’Amade, were charged with making a landing at Kum Kale in order to protect the Helles landings from the threat of fire from the Turkish Asiatic batteries across the Straits. The 6th Colonial Regiment of the 1st Division would land close to the old demolished fort and the remnants of the village. This was at the tip of what was effectively another peninsula, a low strip of land some two miles long and 500 yards wide running first towards the Orkanie Mound (where Robinson had won his VC destroying Turkish guns back in February) and then up to the village and demolished battery at Yeni Shehr at a height of 60 feet. On one side was the sea while the other was bounded by the Mendere River. This area was not defended as it was too vulnerable to close-range naval gunfire; instead it was merely patrolled by small detachments, as the Turks planned to hold the line of the river and the high ground at Yeni Shehr. One thing was clear: the French were facing a far more serious conglomera
tion of Turkish units than the British and Australians. Although their landing place was as unguarded as Anzac, Y Beach or X Beach, the Turkish main lines of defence were fairly close at hand, on the other side of the river. Here, no less than three battalions were waiting, while only a couple of miles further inland were two whole Turkish regiments. Kum Kale was an extremely dangerous undertaking.
The landing was planned for just after dawn on 25 April. As the troopships moved forward the Jeanne d’Arc and the Russian cruiser Askold began a preparatory bombardment on Kum Kale, while other warships bombarded the surrounding hills.
The sun pierces the early mist. It emerges above the Gallipoli hills in the hollow of a bay like an enormous globe of blood-red fire. It is a tableau presaging glory. The soldiers on our ship prepare to land and we approach the Asiatic coast. The gunners are at their places. Powerful guns are at our disposal. A first shot is fired. Everybody is dazed. One’s ears hurt; the blood goes to one’s head. Before we can stuff cottonwool into our ears a second and a third shot are fired. The outline of the village of Yeni Shehr is now ragged. It is a destruction, certain, methodical, and regular. We see a big house with a red roof. A first shell marks it with a black fountain of smoke, which hides it for a minute from our eyes. It is ruined, and one feels sad; for perhaps it has never sheltered other than peaceful people, perhaps wise and philosophic old men or lovers, only absorbed in themselves and their own passionate embraces. The second shot, hitting it full, disembowels it, scattering it to atoms. The third shell ends its agony.2
Medical Officer Joseph Vassal, 6th Colonial Régiment, Brigade Coloniale, 1st Division, CEO
The French landing was dogged by problems. The strong Dardanelles current caused serious delays for the landing tows and it was not until 10.00 that they were able to come ashore at a small wooden jetty near the unoccupied ruined fort of Kum Kale. However, the Turkish coastal detachments had withdrawn to join their comrades behind the Mendere River and the landing was relatively unopposed except for sporadic shell fire from the In Tepe battery further inside the Straits. The fort and village were quickly occupied but the usual confusions and delays inherent in combined operations meant that it took quite some time to get ashore the three battalions of the 6th Colonial Regiment, accompanied by a battery of 75mm field guns from the 8th Artillery Regiment. It was only at 17.30 that an advance was begun on the cemetery and the Orkanie Mound prior to an assault on Yeni Shehr. By this time the Turks had time to react. An ominously stiff resistance pinned the French back into their small beachhead. When at 18.00 an aerial reconnaissance reported the arrival of strong reinforcing columns close to Yeni Shehr, the French attack was abruptly suspended and Kum Kale was readied for defence: trenches dug, loopholes driven through walls, streets barricaded and barbed-wire entanglements put up.
The first of the Turkish counter-attacks burst upon them at 20.30. All that night three battalions from the 3rd Division attacked the French line amid desperate fighting. At one point the French trenches were over-run, only for them to launch a vigorous counter-attack to hurl back the Turks. The situation for the French would have probably been grimmer still but for the fire of the 75mm guns and the supporting fire of the fleet shooting blind into the area of ground in front of their positions.
Off shore Medical Officer Joseph Vassal and his team were hard at work in their makeshift hospital aboard the Savoie. Steamboats appeared carrying the masses of wounded men collected from the first aid post established in the lee of the old Kum Kale fort.
Till the first rays of dawn the next day we are leaning over wounded in an atmosphere of blood, of groans, and of indescribable horrors. We do not stop for a single minute. The wounded still come in. They are mounted on the deck from the bottom of the boats, and from a long line of stretchers. We are able to put six wounded at a time on the big tables of the children’s playroom of the Savoie. Sometimes not even a groan is to be heard; the silence is impressive. Our fellows are admirable. The wounds of this night are, nevertheless, frightful. A Sergeant Major comes back to us only to die. His chest was crushed by shrapnel; and for a moment we saw his heart, almost bare, still beating. There is a Senegalese with his head torn, a foot missing, and three fingers of a hand gone. Another black, waiting his turn on a chair, is asked, ‘Beaucoup malade?’ ‘Non, il y en a un peu!’ The doctor looks. Both legs have been torn off by a shell.3
Medical Officer Joseph Vassal, 6th Colonial Regiment, Brigade Coloniale, 1st Division, CEO
Next morning, 26 April, having withstood the Turkish attacks and once more covered by the fire of warships, the French planned to renew their attack on Yeni Shehr. But then, at about 07.00, to their astonishment a party of Turks surrendered.
The enemy began to wave flags and showed a wish to give themselves up. Eighty Turkish soldiers approached unarmed and were conducted inside our lines. Immediately afterwards many more Turks (several hundred) arrived in succession but refused to lay down their arms. A parley took place, and Captain Rockel, a very courageous officer, pushed into the middle of the Turks to persuade them to give up their rifles. This officer was surrounded and was not seen again. Others, jostling our men, succeeded in seizing and making off with two machine guns. Our men did not dare to open fire for fear of wounding their own comrades.4
Colonel Ruef, Headquarters, Brigade Coloniale, 1st Division, CEO
Private Marius Gondard was one of those caught out when he unwittingly became separated from his platoon.
There were alarms all night long. The Turks were attacking but each time we were able to push them back. And early in the morning they came back, we launched an attack and that’s when several Turkish soldiers raised white flags. We stopped firing. The Turks came towards us and a great many surrendered, gave themselves up. We disarmed them as we went along, I don’t know how many prisoners there were. And it was then I was taken, because, whilst disarming the prisoners, more Turks arrived and over-ran us. I was taken by both arms by two Turks, with a third walking behind me with a bayonet. I felt surprised. I was ready for anything: I expected I might be injured or killed, perhaps, but certainly not taken prisoner.5
Private Marius Gondard, 6th Colonial Regiment, Brigade Coloniale, 1st Division, CEO
It was later realised that this had not been some cunning plot by the Turks but a genuine series of misunderstandings exacerbated by language difficulties. In all the chaos a party of around a hundred Turks managed to slip into the Kum Kale, where they barricaded themselves into some houses. When hostilities resumed the Turks were trapped in the houses, but sold their lives dearly. In the end the 75mm guns were used to blast them away. In view of this desperate resistance it was slightly strange that a further group of about 500 Turks, who were occupying the trenches in the cemetery in front of the village, surrendered at about 15.00. It would seem that the concentrated fire of the 75mm guns ashore and the naval blasting from the flanks had demolished the Turkish trenches and undermined their resolve. From aboard the Moulouya transport ship off shore, Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil was watching the fighting.
The Senegalese mounted an attack on the Turkish trenches. We could clearly see the advance of our troops supported by the intense fire from our fleet and a 75mm gun landed ashore. The auxiliary cruiser Savoie drew close to the Asiatic coast and opened up a marvellous rapid fire on a covered trench dug by the Turks which we’d just located. It was a veritable bloodbath when the Savoie took the trench in enfilade. That ended the battle. Towards the evening a minesweeper loaded with Turkish prisoners passed close by us – what an enthusiastic reaction!6
Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO
Meanwhile, at 09.20 on 26 April, orders from Hamilton reached d’Amade requesting that he deploy his Métropolitaine Brigade at Helles to bolster the stalled efforts of the 29th Division. In his acknowledgment of the orders, d’Amade pointed out that his strictly limited remit at Kum Kale had been fulfilled and that he could make no further progress towards Yeni S
hehr without reinforcements. An hour later a second order from Hamilton arrived requiring that all remaining French infantry and artillery units be diverted to Helles as soon as possible. As there was now no question of reinforcing his troops ashore at Kum Kale, d’Amade feared for the safety of the isolated detachments and soon after 11.30 asked for permission to withdraw that night, which Hamilton granted. With the sudden mass Turkish surrenders in the afternoon the situation had eased but it was by then too late to reverse the decision. The evacuation could have been tricky but, closely covered by the warships and in the absence of any Turkish night attacks, it all went remarkably smoothly. By dawn on 27 April the Asiatic shore was once again under the complete control of the Turks. The serious nature of the fighting is indicated by the casualty lists: the French had 778 casualties and the Turks 1,730, in addition to having had more than 500 of their men taken prisoner.
HAMILTON HAD INCLUDED TWO purely diversionary operations in his convoluted plans. The first of these was to be carried out by the main body of the RND in the Gulf of Saros, where they were threatening a landing on the Bulair Isthmus. They began operations shortly after dawn on 25 April with a long slow bombardment on the trench lines on the ridges overlooking the flat, swampy isthmus. Then the eleven transports carrying the RND began their playacting, unshipping their boats, forming up the tows of rowing boats behind steamboats and generally behaving as if an attack were imminent. This had an initial impact, for Liman was pre-occupied with Bulair and indeed rushed there on the morning of 25 April.
After alarming the 7th Division in the town of Gallipoli and instructing it to march at once in the direction of Bulair, I rode ahead to the heights of Bulair with my German adjutants. On the narrow ridge of Bulair where neither tree nor bush impedes view or gives cover, we had a full view of the upper Saros Gulf. About twenty large hostile ships, some war vessels, some transports, could be counted in front of us. Some individual vessels were lying close in under the steep slopes of the coast. Others were farther out in the gulf or were still underway. From the broadsides of the war vessels came an uninterrupted stream of fire and smoke and the entire coast including our ridge was covered with shells and shrapnel. It was an unforgettable picture. Nowhere, however, could we see any debarking of troops from the transports.7
