by Peter Hart
Private Daniel Joiner was in the second wave, with the 1st KOSB, as they joined the attack.
While waiting underneath the parapet, it was torture! Hell! The sensations felt, going over the parapet, expecting to be hit anywhere, awful, but as soon as you realise you are over safe, you lose all such thoughts and feelings – mad! Men are falling right and left, they are hardly noticed – one thought only exists – the first trench! It is almost impossible to remember afterwards whether you walked, ran, crawled, or flew over the intervening ground. The South Wales Borderers have reached the first line and are engaging the enemy, we are soon with them and materially assist them – ‘Allah, Allah!’ the Turk cries as he puts his hands up, while another tries to bury himself in the ground out of reach of our bayonets. Others kneel and fire, until their magazine is discharged, then try to run away. They are soon all accounted for and the first line is ours.10
Private Daniel Joiner, 1st KOSB, 87th Brigade, 29th Division
On their left flank the 29th Indian Brigade was attacking along the cliff side. On they pushed, charging up Gully Spur, capturing several Turkish lines and reaching as far as Fusilier Bluff.
It was a very different story for the 156th Brigade facing the H12 trench line on Fir Tree Spur. The fate of one battalion reveals the scope of the tragedy as they charged forward without adequate artillery support. Major James Findlay had only taken command of the 1/8th Scottish Rifles a week before, but now he had the responsibility of leading his inexperienced battalion into action on the right of the brigade front.
I do not think that many of us got much sleep – I know that to me the night was slow in passing – but dawn came at last, cool and beautiful, with a hint of the coming heat, and the dried-up sparse scrub had been freshened by the night’s dewfall. One was impressed by the good heart of all ranks, but, whether it was premonition or merely the strain of newly acquired responsibility, I could not feel the buoyancy of anticipated success. I remember going round the line in the early morning and finding that there was some difficulty about the planks which the support and reserve companies had to put across the front trenches to facilitate passage, but these eventually arrived in time. The artillery bombardment which took place from 09.00 to 11.00 was, even to a mind then inexperienced in a real bombardment, quite too futile, but it drew down upon us, naturally, a retaliatory shelling. How slowly these minutes from 10.55 to 11.00 passed! Centuries of time seemed to go by. One became conscious of saying the silliest things, all the while painfully thinking, ‘It may be the last time I shall see these fellows alive!’ Prompt at 11.00 the whistles blew.11
Major James Findlay, 1/8th Scottish Rifles, 156th Brigade, 52nd Division
Over the top went his men, to be met by a deadly stream of fire from all sides. Findlay soon realised that the attack was breaking down in No Man’s Land. He sent back to his brigade for reinforcements and moved forward up a sap with his adjutant, Captain Charles Bramwell, and his signal officer, Lieutenant Tom Stout, trying to establish a forward headquarters. They did not get far; rank was no defence against bullets.
Bramwell and I then pushed our way up the sap, which for a short distance concealed us, but got shallower as we went along, until first our heads, then our shoulders, and then most of our bodies were exposed. We soon arrived at Pattison’s bombing party, which I had sent up this sap.12 He had been killed, and those of his men that were left were lying flat; they could not get on as the sap rose a few yards in front of them to the ground level, and the leading man was lying in only about 18 inches of cover. In any case they were still some 50 yards from the enemy trenches. Bullets were spattering all around us, and we seemed to bear charmed lives, until just as we arrived at the rear of this party Bramwell fell at my side, shot through the mouth. He said not a word, and I am glad to think that he was killed outright.13 I made up my mind that the only thing to be done was to collect what men there were and make a dash for it. I told this to Stout, and stooping down to pick up a rifle I was shot in the neck. At the moment I didn’t feel much, but when I saw the blood spurt forward I supposed that it had got my jugular vein. I stuck a handkerchief round my neck and tried to get on, but I was bowled over by a hit in the shoulder. I tumbled back over some poor devil, and for a minute or two tried to collect myself. Up came young Stout and said, ‘I am going to try to carry you back, Sir!’ but I wouldn’t let him.14
Major James Findlay, 1/8th Scottish Rifles, 156th Brigade, 52nd Division
It was obvious to everyone around him that his wounds were serious, but Findlay was obsessed with the idea that he had to establish his forward headquarters and coordinate the next stage of the attack. In the end Lieutenant Tom Stout simply ignored him.
I told Stout to send another runner for reinforcements. A few minutes later he came back and took me by the shoulders and some other good fellow lifted me by the feet, and together they got me back some 10 yards, and though a bullet got me in the flesh of the thigh, I was now comparatively sheltered while they were still exposed. It was then that a splinter of shell blew off Tommy Stout’s head, and the other man was hit simultaneously.15 Gallant lads! God rest them!16
Major James Findlay, 1/8th Scottish Rifles, 156th Brigade, 52nd Division
Findlay finally managed to stagger back to his own lines, either very lucky or unlucky depending on one’s viewpoint, having suffered seven major wounds as well as a liberal sprinkling of minor scrapes from bomb fragments. His battalion had suffered over 400 casualties and 25 of its 26 officers had been hit. The attack of 156th Brigade had resulted in a massacre, with nothing achieved militarily but a few insignificant gains on the left. Further attempts to advance during the day resulted in nothing but more slaughter.
At the same time the Turks were counter-attacking on Gully Spur. The series of trenches running across the spur and into the Nullah tributary were the scene of murderous fighting as the Turks used their superior bombs to try to blast the British and Indian troops out. Attempts by the 1st Dublin Fusiliers to attack up Gully Ravine met with little success and eventually a new front line was constructed that bent back from Fusilier Bluff to link across Gully Ravine with those small segments of the H12 trench that had been captured on the left of Fir Tree Spur. The men of the KOSB were then ordered to clear Gully Ravine of the tangled detritus of war. It was to prove an unforgettable task.
Both sides of the Gully were lined with what had been Turkish shelters – they were in appearance like a farmyard outhouse. They were still shelters, but not for live Turks. As we proceeded down the Gully, we had to drag the dead bodies into them, to make room for the traffic. Farther down, pools of stagnant water, with green, evil-smelling slime, had to be passed. Often the skeleton of some unknown soldier floated on top. The dead had to be disposed of. There were too many to bury, and not sanitary. Cremation was decided on. Each sergeant with twelve men was instructed to prepare a fire from the wood of the Turkish shelters. The bodies after being searched were then put on. What a nice pleasant job. Count had to be kept of the number cremated. One head, two arms, one body and two legs to count as one man. The sun was already having its effect on them. Respirators had to be worn. All scruples had to be laid aside, and get on with it, ‘Steady there, don’t lose that leg it is only hanging up by the trousers. Bring that head here; that completes another man! Yes, bring that leg – we only want a body now to make another man!’ The fires blazed upon the ground of Gully Ravine. So hot did the fires get, we were forced to put sand on. It is too hot now to place them on, we throw them on. We have luckily forgotten we are human beings.17
Private Daniel Joiner, 1st KOSB, 87th Brigade, 29th Division
Careless of casualties, careless of anything, the Turks continued to launch massed attacks out of the Nullah across Gully Spur and down Gully Ravine. Private Joiner and his company were ordered forward to support the South Wales Borderers in the front line.
On they came crowd after crowd. The machine guns were mowing them down. Those who managed to gain the open wer
e under fire from the infantry of either flank. The Ross Battery was paying attention to the Turkish reinforcements, which were being hurried up. They persevered with this mad attack until 4 a.m. next morning. What had they gained? Nothing but a small trench they had succeeded in digging about 200 yards in front of us. At what cost? To them 1,000 lives! To us, an enormous amount of ammunition, a night’s sleep and a few lives.18
Private Daniel Joiner, 1st KOSB, 87th Brigade, 29th Division
Shortly afterwards Private Joiner was wounded in the leg and he was evacuated, his campaign over. All night the fighting raged. Among the killed was Sergeant Victor Rathfelder, a South African serving with the 1st Munsters.
Sergeant Rathfelder came along to me and asked in a voice harsh with thirst, ‘Can I go and get water, Sir?’ The Turks attacked twice more and then about 3 a.m. Rathfelder returned, a pick handle over one shoulder. From it dangled nine water bottles filled with water. He put them beside me saying, ‘The boys will be glad of that, Sir.’ ‘Thanks, Rathfelder, now get some rest behind the parados.’ He turned away and as he did so I saw two more men shot down in the trench and shouted out, ‘Send two more men into the trench!’ The sergeant halted to catch the order which rose faintly above the surrounding din, and then pitched forward, shot through the head, splattering me with his blood and brains.19 To this day I blame myself bitterly for having spoken those words!20
Second Lieutenant Roy Laidlaw, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, 86th Brigade, 29th Division
The Turks were very concerned by this advance on their right flank and ordered the 3rd and 5th Divisions to regain lost ground without fail. The final effort was made at dawn on 5 July after a weak preliminary bombardment. On that dreadful day the Turks would find that bravery was useless against a combination of artillery, machine guns and rapid fire from well-aimed rifles. It is difficult to determine the exact number of Turkish casualties in the Gully Ravine area over the week of 28 June–5 July, but the Turks themselves reckoned that they suffered losses of some 14,000. Certainly the ground in front of the British trenches was covered with a huge number of rotting Turkish corpses. There they would stay for the rest of the campaign as the British steadfastly refused Turkish requests for an armistice for mass burials. It was imagined that the Turks might be less willing to attack over a No Man’s Land sprinkled with their own rotting dead and Hunter-Weston decided his men would just have to endure the awful stench.
The lessons of 28 June seemed simple: the Allies should focus their attacks but, above all, they needed more artillery, more howitzers, more high explosive shells and more bombs to help counter the Turkish counter-attacks. The success of these tactics seemed to be further confirmed when the French managed to capture the infamous Quadrilateral in an attack on 30 June.
As on 21 June we preceded the attack with a slow and deliberate destructive bombardment. We had at our disposal shells with the new instantaneous fuses which exploded on impact, which were much more efficient in destroying the trenches and fortifications. The result was that in our sector the trenches were utterly destroyed and when the assault went in at 5.30, it allowed our troops to over-run the Turkish first lines almost without casualties. Carried away in their enthusiasm they didn’t stop there but putting improvised bridges over the captured trenches, they continued to push forwards. I soon learnt over the telephone that our men had gone on so far that we could not follow their progress as they were masked by the crest of a ridge. We even had to stop our fire in order not to hinder their movements. At 8 p.m. the gunfire, which had died down a bit, suddenly swelled up violently. It seemed that our troops were falling back in disorder across the crest. They had clashed with several fresh Turkish battalions arriving to the rescue, who had almost surrounded our advanced elements. Without any communications, waiting for reinforcements that never arrived and now lacking artillery support, they hastily had to withdraw.21
Second Lieutenant Raymond Weil, 39th Régiment d’Artillerie, 1st Division, CEO
It was becoming increasingly apparent that artillery was the dominant force on the battlefields of Gallipoli, as on the Western Front. If the guns succeeded in their primary task of smashing the Turkish trenches, then a successful assault could be made, but even then artillery was needed to cover any gains achieved, or they would soon be lost. The more sophisticated gunnery tactics of using concentrated counter-battery fire, creeping barrages and the whole concept of suppressing one’s opponent’s ability to fire while the troops were exposed in No Man’s Land lay two years in the future. But by concentrating their artillery resources the French had once again inched forward and the Quadrilateral, so long their bête noire, had been captured – and this time it was held.
One French problem had been removed but the harassing fire from across the Straits was still giving them considerable grief. On 30 June, even in his moment of triumph, General Henri Gouraud had been badly wounded by a shell crashing down from the Turkish Asiatic batteries; he was evacuated but would lose an arm. Gouraud had been a competent and energetic leader and would be sorely missed. His replacement was General Maurice Bailloud who, although 73 years old, was already at Helles commanding the French 2nd Division, and was hence well aware of the state of the campaign. The loss of Gouraud typified the relentless threat posed by the Asiatic guns. Captain Ashir Arkayan was one of the Turkish officers responsible.
I was appointed to command the 10.5-centimetre battery on the Anatolian coast. The battery had been removed from one of our warships and remounted. My duties were as follows: 1) To harass the flank and rear of the enemy in front of our lines at Sedd el Bahr and to destroy the gun position in this sector. 2) To keep the enemy’s landing stages at Sedd el Bahr and at Tekke Bay under fire, to stop him using his jetties and to harass him. I carried out these duties with much success. In order to knock me out the enemy stationed two monitors off Kum Kale, but, while they tried for days with 34-centimetre guns to neutralise me, they were unable to do so.22
Captain Ashir Arkayan, Artillery, Fifth Army
This process was watched with detached Gallic amusement by Lieutenant Henri Feuille on 25 July.
Two English monitors fired their big guns on Kum Kale, Yeni Chehir and Eren Keui. If it didn’t do any good, it couldn’t do any harm! It was a lot of noise for nothing! They fired at long intervals on the Asian coast. Connected to land by a telephone line, we did our best as observers to try and range their fire. At last! By a miracle a shell seemed on target. It exploded, shaking the very Straits close to the Batterie des Cochons. To encourage the monitor’s gunners we said, ‘Direct hit!’ Half an hour, an hour passed: nothing occurred, complete silence! What had happened? We telephone the monitor which after numerous calls answered. “Le shooting has finished, all right, fini! We’ve hit the target, killed the pigs! Nous buvons le champagne! Au revoir!’23
Lieutenant Henri Feuille, 52nd Battery, 30th Regiment, 1st Division, CEO
Happy in their work, the monitors weighed anchor and left the puzzled French to ponder the wonders of alliance warfare.
For all their problems, for just a moment the Allied commanders could dream of making real progress, one bite at a time, until they could take Achi Baba and start again. It was evident that the Turks were indeed alarmed by the partial success of the British and French ‘bite and hold’ tactics. The heavy shell fire had shaken some of their troops and the commander of the 11th Division tried to stiffen their resolve with well-placed threats.
Henceforth, commanders who surrender these trenches, from whatever side the attack may come, before the last man is killed will be punished in the same way as if they had run away. I hope that this will not occur again. I give notice that if it does, I shall carry out the punishment. I do not desire to see a blot made on the courage of our men by those who escape from the trenches to avoid the rifle and machine gun fire of the enemy. Henceforth, I shall hold responsible all officers who do not shoot with their revolvers all the privates who try to escape from the trenches on any pretext.24
/> Colonel Rifaat, Headquarters, 11th Division, Fifth Army
To relieve the divisions of the Southern Group, plans were made to move in the Second Army, made up of the V Corps (8th & 10th Divisions) and the XIV Corps (13th & 14th Divisions), under the command of General Wehib Pasha. Yet the Turks showed no signs of giving up the fight. They may have wavered under heavy artillery fire, but that would have applied to most troops of all nationalities. The Turks were still providing a determined opposition to the Allies.
LIEUTENANT CHARLES LISTER had returned to the trenches and rejoined the Hood Battalion ready once more for the fray. Both his delicate sensitivities and his underlying sense of humour were considerably tickled by the arrival of the 155th and 157th Brigades of the 52nd Division.
Trench life means a good deal of repose but very little sleep. This is not so much due to the enemy as to the torrents of raw levies coming up to do working parties or to relieve pals or to look for their proper places in the line, and so on. I have had my toes trodden on by every officer and man of a Scotch Territorial Division. They come up in driblets, carrying the most weird cooking utensils, and with every sort of impedimentum. They never know how many of them are coming, and if you ask them each man says he is the last. Then after about 10 seconds’ interval fresh men come up, carrying what appear to be portions of bagpipes. They are always getting lost and held up. Last night I had to get them out by dint of jumping on the top of the communication trench parapet and kicking dust on to their heads, and at the time using the most violent language. The humours of trench warfare are really delicious.25
Lieutenant Charles Lister, Hood Battalion, 2nd Naval Brigade, RND
One of the dark jokes beloved of the veterans of the trenches was recalled by the newly arrived Lieutenant John Millar of the 1/5th KOSB.
Sergeant Johnstone stopped and said, ‘Now, Sir, I want to introduce you to our mascot, especially as this is your first tour in the firing line!’ He pulled aside an empty sandbag covering an alcove in the wall of the communication trench. Sticking out from the earth horizontally was the stiff forearm and hand of a dead Turkish soldier. The hand was leathery and wrinkled; the clutching fingers were stark and stiff. ‘Shake!’ said my Sergeant. I hesitated, then grimly took the hand.26
