Authors: Peter FitzSimons
19 APRIL 1915, LEMNOS, CAN HE BE SERIOUS?
Charles Bean is becoming anxious, and it is has nothing to do with the prospect of being under fire, but rather the likelihood that he won't be in the thick of it.
Still
he has received no permission to accompany the troops when they go. All he has is a letter from General Bridges' General Staff Officer, Major Thomas Blamey, requesting that the English officers grant that permission.
Grasping that letter, Bean now boards
Arcadian
, looking for General Hamilton's Chief of Staff, Major-General Walter Braithwaite, whose every utterance to underlings â like a certain P. G. Wodehouse character â has an impatient
what-is-it?
about it.
âI am rather surprised, Bean,' says Braithwaite, âthat Blamey has asked for you to have the same facilities as the English pressmen. It was perfectly understood that you were allowed to come here only on the condition that you write nothing at all, nothing at all.'
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âThe order was not “nothing at all”,' the Australian correspondent carefully corrects him, âit was “nothing at all until sanctioned”. I had supposed that when arrangements were made sanctioning English pressmen I also would be sanctioned. I have simply come to find out.'
63
âI know nothing about any sanction being given. We have had no word at all about you, Bean. On the other hand the English pressmen have come here properly accredited.'
64
âWell then, the condition in the order “until sanction is given” meant nothing?'
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âLook here!' Braithwaite snaps. âI have no intention of entering into any argument with you about this. As far as I'm concerned the order meant exactly what it said â that you can write
nothing until sanction is given
⦠And you might keep it in mind, Bean, that we have no reason to suppose that sanction will
ever
be given.'
While it is not quite true to say that Charles Bean âstorms off', he is at least a very black thundercloud heading south.
AFTERNOON, 21 APRIL 1915, LOOKING OVER THE BEST LAID PLANS OF ⦠MEN
On a cold, wet and windy day, the departure of the armada has had to be delayed. Colonel Ewen MacLagan takes the opportunity to go through the plans one more time so that all of the senior officers of 3rd Brigade can be locked into what the overall landing plan is and what their own role will be.
He is aided by a pointing stick and a large wall map divided into small, numbered squares.
Now, we of the 3rd Brigade are landing first. We are in two waves of 1500 and 2500 soldiers respectively. Our job will be to eliminate whatever Turkish resistance we find, securing the beaches for the next two waves, before moving inland to secure the three main ridges of the Sari Bair Range, securing the Third Ridge furthest inland being one of the first day's main objectives.
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With all going well, all of 3rd Brigade will be ashore by around 5 am, and, snapping at our heels, nine transport ships will in turn move forward, carrying the 2nd and 1st Brigades of 8000 soldiers. Half these men would be landed by the battleships' tows, the other half by the seven destroyers' tows, and we should have 12,000 men ashore by 9 am.
Once the entire 1st Australian Division is ashore, the New Zealand and Australian Division will begin to land in transports, and by nightfall we should have 20,000 men on the Peninsula. Our overall goal is to push across the waist of the Peninsula, cutting off the lines of communication and avenue of retreat for the Turkish forces at Cape Helles. Once across to the European shore of the Dardanelles, the aim is to neutralise the howitzer batteries and forts that have been preventing the minesweepers from doing their work. At the same time that the Anzacs make their landing, the British forces, led by the 29th Division, will be making their landing at the bottom tip of the Peninsula at Cape Helles, and the French on the Asian shore of the Dardanelles at Kum Kale â the last as a feint to confuse the defenders as to where the real thrust of the attack is coming.
All clear?
All clear.
Now, if we can just get some clear weather, we can clear off and be on our way!
MORNING, 23 APRIL 1915, MUDROS, THE SUN SHINES UPON THEM
It is exactly the kind of day the British have been waiting for. One for the ages,
of
the ages. As the sun rises over ancient Troy to the east, the fine mist over Port Mudros clears to reveal the waters to be a âblue jewel'
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with barely a ripple as birds flit hither and thither through the masts and around the funnels of so many ships, while the hills of Lemnos beam back upon these soldiers and sailors gathered here from so many corners of the earth.
For this, one of the largest invasion flotillas ever assembled, one could not have hoped for better weather to launch on the Dardanelles, and General Hamilton has no hesitation in giving the order to proceed.
Out in Mudros Harbour, no fewer than 200 ships of various classes â all painted black to suit the night where they must move by stealth â take on soldiers and last-minute supplies. They are ships showing flags from all over the world â Australia, France, Russia and Great Britain, most notably â and they are heading for one spot. The Dardanelles.
From barges, quays and small boats, the soldiers continue to file up the gangplanks, carrying their newly greased rifles over their shoulders. On their backs are freshly filled, heavy packs containing cans of bully beef, Maconochie's soup and jam, together with hard biscuits. Already encumbered enough, before the battle they will be issued 200 rounds of ammunition, enough to last them two days, ideally. All up, including their water bag, the whole pack weighs an amazing 70 pounds â that's five stone! For now, they are quickly directed to various parts of their allotted ships to fill every room, every bit of deck space and, more often than not, every nook and cranny. All is nearing readiness to launch â¦
Aboard
Queen Elizabeth
, however, Admiral de Robeck remains nervous.
What more can they possibly do to help ensure the success of this already highly risky enterprise?
And now he recalls the conversation he had earlier that month with Lieutenant-Commander Dacre Stoker, the captain of that Australian submarine
AE2
, who had said that forcing the Narrows
was
possible. If so, this could change everything. A sub in the Dardanelles and beyond could wreak havoc, seriously interfering with the Turkish supply lines.
Yes, two submarines have already been lost, but the possible prize is worth the risk.
Along with the stricken submarine
E15
the previous December, hadn't 26-year-old Captain Norman Holbrook, together with a crew of 12, pulled off one of the great military feats of the war to date when their Royal Navy, petrol-driven, ten-year-old submarine,
B11
, successfully entered the Dardanelles undetected? Once âin', hadn't the-little-submarine-that-could destroyed the troopship
Mesûdiye â
anchored near the Turkish minefield just four miles south of Chanak in Sari Sigla Bay â killing 37 Turks before turning tail and beating a successful retreat? (For his courage and skill, Holbrook would be awarded the Victoria Cross just a fortnight later. As to faraway Australia, the reception of the news is so great that a tiny town in southern New South Wales changes its name to Holbrook. That sounds so much better, under the circumstances, than its previous name of ⦠Germanton.)
So, it
is
possible.
Admiral de Robeck sends once more for the captain of the Australian submarine.
âAn interesting psychological moment,' Stoker records in his autobiography as a tiny steamboat takes him towards the flagship now towering over him. âWhen one's heart is set on a thing, it is not often that it comes within grasp â¦'
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Off the steamboat, Stoker is met by none other than the Admiral's Chief of Staff, Commodore Roger Keyes, and taken immediately to Admiral de Robeck, who is impatiently waiting for him.
Well, Stoker, the Admiral asks in his clipped tones, are you still convinced you can get through the Narrows?
Yes, sir, I am.
And are you willing to make the attempt?
Yes, sir, I am.
But are you
sure
the whole thing is possible?
Stoker is, and he warms to the theme of his dream once more â how he could wait off the mouth of the Dardanelles until the moon set, then enter very slowly on the surface, being careful not to create the wash that would make the sub noticeable, and so preserve battery power by not submerging until they got to the first minefield.
The Admiral, though hanging on every word, seems far from convinced â but he also makes clear that, because the prize would be so great, he is sorely tempted to give the order for it to be attempted.
Finally, he makes his decision. Go for it. Try to take your Australian submarine under the minefields.
âIf you get through,' he tells Stoker, standing up to indicate that their meeting is over, âother boats will immediately be sent to follow.'
You must leave in two hours.
Yes, sir!
âIf you succeed,' de Robeck tells Stoker by way of farewell, shaking his hand with uncharacteristic warmth, âthere is no calculating the result it will cause, and it may well be that you will have done more to finish the war than any other act accomplished.'
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With these words ringing in his ears,
singing
in his ears, Stoker takes his leave, the steamboat carefully making its way through a harbour that is now more frantic than ever with vessels going this way and that, their bow waves forming endless rippling criss-crosses that mirror the zigzagging that so many of them must do to make their way through.
Certainly, most of the boats bringing soldiers and supplies from the shore are naval ones, but among them are many âstrange beautiful Greek vessels ⦠under rigs of old time, with sheep and goats and fish, for sale'.
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Aboard the battleship
Queen
, General Birdwood wishes to have a few words with as many of his Australian troops as he can muster.
âRemember,' he tells them most importantly, and with some gravity, âthe eyes of the whole world will be on you Australians, to see how you fight.'
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One more thing, men. The reason you were all paid with Turkish currency yesterday is so that once you have won the battle of the beaches and are on your way to Constantinople, that money will give you something to live off. But there is to be âno haggling in the villages you pass through as all the prices will be fixed'.
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Around and about him as General Birdwood speaks, the loading of men, munitions and all the rest goes on, the seriousness of what they are embarking on in strict contrast with the gaiety of the day itself and the natural beauty of the scene.
The first to leave in the mid-afternoon are the troopships of Great Britain's 29th Division, which weigh anchor and move to the outer harbour of Mudros.
âNo such gathering of fine ships has ever been seen upon this earth,' contemporary poet and writer John Masefield would recount, âand the beauty and the exultation of the youth upon them made them like sacred things as they moved away.'
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As they leave, the soldiers on the other ships getting ready to leave on the morrow crowd the deck.
In the celebrated words of Masefield, âThey cheered and cheered till the harbour rang with cheering. As each ship crammed with soldiers drew near the battleships, the men swung their caps and cheered again, and the sailors answered, and the noise of cheering swelled, and the men in the ships not yet moving joined in, and the men ashore, till all the life in the harbour was giving thanks that it could go to death rejoicing.'
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And it goes on, the combined throaty hurrahs of thousands of men floating across the waters, gathering volume as it goes, hitting the shore to go still higher as all those on land join in.
âIt broke the hearts of all there with pity and pride: it went beyond the guard of the English heart. Presently all were out ⦠and the sun went down with marvellous colour, lighting island after island and the Asian peaks, and those left behind in Mudros trimmed their lamps knowing that they had been for a little brought near to the heart of things.'
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The 29th travel to their goal with the last words of their Commanding Officer, General Aylmer Hunter-Weston, still stinging in their ears. Not only must they land and secure the beaches for the other troops to follow, but they must occupy Achi Baba, the small mountain overlooking Cape Helles,
by the afternoon
of the landing.
As the sun begins to set over the western hills of Lemnos â âJust like a stage setting,' one soldier would record, âwith the lovely deep red-coloured orb disappearing between the purple hills and dainty rose pink sky â¦'
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â three more transports filled with soldiers of the 29th Division slowly steam out of the harbour and make for their designated rendezvous point at an anchorage north of Tenedos. Their ultimate destination, one of five beaches at Cape Helles. They are followed by the ungainly collier
River Clyde
. Its specially constructed sally ports on each side, together with the nest of sandbags on the front deck â through which are poking Vickers machine-guns purloined from the Royal Naval Air Service Armoured Car Squadron â give it a rather odd appearance as it tows a steamhopper and four lighters (flat-bottomed barges that can be rowed ashore, designed to carry as many as 40 men). Sticking close is
Euryalus
, bearing Admiral Wemyss, followed by
Implacable
and
Cornwallis.
All, so far, is going according to plan.