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Five Months at Anzac

AMBULANCE WORK Our bearers were doing splendid work; it was a long and dangerous carry, and a lot of them were wounded themselves. The miserable part of the affair was that the Casualty Clearing Station on the beach broke down and could not evacuate our wounded. This caused a block, and we had numbers of wounded on our hands. A block of a few hours can be dealt with, but when it is impossible to get cases away for forty hours the condition of the men is very miserable. However, we got the cooks going, and had plenty of Bovril and Oxo, which we boiled up with biscuits broken small. It made a very sustaining meal, but caused thirst, which was troublesome, as it was particularly difficult to obtain water. Shelter from the sun, too, was hard to get; the day was exceedingly hot, and there were only a few trees about. As many as could be got into the shade were put there, but we had to keep moving them round to avoid the sun. Many of the cases were desperate, but they uttered not a word of complaint—they all seemed to understand that it was not our fault that they were kept here. As the cases were treated by us, they were taken down towards the beach and kept under cover as much as possible. At one time we had nearly four hundred waiting for removal to the ship. Then came a message asking for more stretchers to be sent to the firing line, and none were to be obtained; so we just had to remove the wounded from those we had, lay them on the ground, and send the stretchers up. Thank goodness, we had plenty of morphia, and the hypodermic syringe relieved many who would otherwise have suffered great agony. Going through the cases, I found one man who had his arm shattered and a large wound in his chest. Amputation at the shoulder-joint was the only way of saving his life. Major Clayton gave the anaesthetic, and we got him through. Quite a number of Ghurkas and Sikhs were amongst the wounded, and they all seemed to think that it was part of the game; patience loomed large among their virtues. Turkish wounded were also on our hands, and, though they could not speak our language, still they expressed gratitude with their eyes. One of the Turks was interrogated, first by the Turkish interpreter with no result; the Frenchman then had a go at him, and still nothing could be got out of him. After these two had finished, Captain Jefferies went over to the man and said, "Would you like a drink of water?" "Yes, please," was the reply. During one afternoon, after we had been in this place for three days, a battalion crossed the ground between us and the beach. This brought the Turkish guns into action immediately, and we got the time of our lives. We had reached a stage when we regarded ourselves as fair judges of decent shell-fire, and could give an unbiassed opinion on the point, but—to paraphrase Kipling—what we knew before was "Pop" to what we now had to swallow. The shells simply rained on us, shrapnel all the time; of course our tent was no protection as it consisted simply of canvas, and the only thing to do was to keep under the banks as much as possible. We were jammed full of wounded in no time. Men rushing into the gully one after another, and even a company of infantry tried to take shelter there; but that, of course, could not be allowed. We had our Geneva Cross flag up, and their coming there only drew fire. <ANTIMG src="images/10.jpg" width-obs="374" height-obs="510" alt="Getting Wounded off after a Fight."> Getting Wounded off after a Fight. <ANTIMG src="images/11.jpg" width-obs="394" height-obs="512" alt="Water Carts protected by Sand Bags"> Water Carts protected by Sand Bags <ANTIMG src="images/12.jpg" width-obs="394" height-obs="514" alt="Burial Parties during the Armistice."> Burial Parties during the Armistice. <ANTIMG src="images/13.jpg" width-obs="394" height-obs="519" alt="Simpson and his Donkey"> Simpson and his Donkey In three-quarters of an hour we put through fifty-four cases. Many bearers were hit, and McGowen and Threlfall of the 1st Light Horse Field Ambulance were killed. Seven of our tent division were wounded. One man reported to me that he had been sent as a reinforcement, had been through Samoa, and had just arrived in Gallipoli. While he was speaking, he sank quietly down without a sound. A bullet had come over my shoulder into his heart. That was another instance of the fortune of war. Many men were hit, either before they landed or soon after, while others could go months with never a scratch. From 2 till 7 p.m. we dealt with 142 cases. This shelling lasted for an hour or more, and when it subsided a party of men arrived with a message from Divisional Headquarters. They had been instructed to remove as many of the Ambulance as were alive. Headquarters, it appears, had been watching the firing. We lost very little time in leaving, and for the night we dossed down in the scrub a mile further along the beach, where we were only exposed to the fire of spent bullets coming over the hills. Our fervent prayer was that we had said good-bye to shells. The new position was very nice; it had been a farm—in fact the plough was still there, made of wood, no iron being used in its construction. Blackberries, olives, and wild thyme grew on the place, and also a kind of small melon. We did not eat any; we thought we were running enough risks already; but the cooks used the thyme to flavour the bovril, and it was a nice addition. Not far from us something happened that was for all the world like an incident described by Zola in his "D�bacle," when during the bombardment before Sedan a man went on ploughing in a valley with a white horse, while an artillery duel continued over his head. Precisely the same thing occurred here—the only difference being that here a man persisted in looking after his cattle, while the guns were firing over his head. Walkley and Betts proved ingenious craftsmen. They secured two wheels left by the Signalling Corps, and on these fastened a stretcher; out of a lot of the web equipment lying about they made a set of harness; two donkeys eventuated from somewhere, and with this conveyance quite a lot of transport was done. Water and rations were carried as well, and the saving to our men was great. Goodness knows the bearers were already sufficiently worked carrying wounded. The Bacchante did some splendid firing, right into the trenches every time. With one shot, amongst the dust and earth, a Turk went up about thirty feet: arms and legs extended, his body revolving like a catherine wheel. One saw plenty of limbs go up at different times, but this was the only time when I saw a man go aloft in extenso. It was while we were in this position that W.O. Henderson was hit; the bullet came through the tent, through another man's arm and into Mr. Henderson. He was a serious loss to the Ambulance, as since its inception he had had sole charge of everything connected with the supply of drugs and dressings, and I missed his services very much. We were now being kept very busy and had little time for rest, numbers of cases being brought down. Our table was made of four biscuit boxes, on which were placed the stretchers. We had to be very sparing of water, as all had to be carried. The donkey conveyance was kept constantly employed. Whenever that party left we used to wonder whether they would return, for one part of the road was quite exposed to fire; but Betts and Walkley both pulled through. One night I had just turned in at nine-thirty, when Captain Welch came up to say that a bad casualty had come in, and so many came in afterwards that it was three o'clock in the following morning before I had finished operating. While in the middle of the work I looked up and found G. Anschau holding the lantern. He belonged to the 1st Field Ambulance, but had come over to our side to give any assistance he could. He worked like a Trojan. We still had our swim off the beach from this position. It will be a wonderful place for tourists after the war is over. For Australians particularly it will have an unbounded interest. The trenches where the men fought will be visible for a long time, and there will be trophies to be picked up for years to come. All along the flat land by the beach there are sufficient bullets to start a lead factory. Then searching among the gullies will give good results. We came across the Turkish Quartermaster's store, any quantity of coats and boots and bully beef. The latter was much more palatable than ours. Our men had a novel way of fishing; they threw a bomb into the water, and the dead fish would either float and be caught or go to the bottom—in which case the water was so clear that they were easily seen. Wilson brought me two, something like a mackerel, that were delicious. As there was still a good deal of delay in getting the cases off, our tent was brought over from Canterbury Gully and pitched on the beach; the cooks keeping the bovril and biscuits going. We could not maintain it there long, however, as the Turks' rifle-fire was too heavy, so the evacuation was all done from Walker's Ridge about two miles away. The Casualty Clearing Station here (the 16th) was a totally different proposition from the other one. Colonel Corkery was commanding officer, and knew his job. His command was exceedingly well administered, and there was no further occasion to fear any block in getting our wounded off. Amongst the men who came in to be dressed was one wounded in the leg. The injury was a pretty bad one, though the bone was not fractured. The leg being uncovered, the man sat up to look at it. He exclaimed "Eggs a cook! I thought it was only a scratch!" Our bearers did great work here, Sergeant Baber being in charge and the guiding spirit amongst them. Carberry from Western Australia proved his worth in another manner. The 4th Brigade were some distance up the gully and greatly in want of water. Carberry seems to have the knack of divining, for he selected a spot where water was obtained after sinking. General Monash drew my attention to this, and Carberry was recommended for the D.C.M. Early in August, soon after Colonel Manders was killed, I was promoted to his position as Assistant Director of Medical Services, or, as it is usually written, A.D.M.S. On this I relinquished command of the 4th Field Ambulance, and though I appreciated the honour of the promotion yet I was sorry to leave the Ambulance. We had been together so long, and through so much, and every member of it was of such sterling worth, that when the order came for me to join Headquarters I must say that my joy was mingled with regret. Everyone—officers, non-commissioned officers and men—had all striven to do their level best, and had succeeded. With one or two exceptions it was our first experience on active service, but all went through their work like veterans. General Godley, in whose division we were, told me how pleased he was with the work of the Ambulance and how proud he was to have them in his command. The Honour list was quite sufficient to satisfy any man. We got one D.S.O., two D.C.M.s, and sixteen "Mentioned in Despatches." Many more deserved recognition, but then all can't get it. Major Meikle took charge, and I am sure the same good work will be done under his command. Captain Dawson came over with me as D.A.D.M.S. He had been Adjutant from the start until the landing, when he "handed over" to Captain Finn, D.S.O., who was the dentist. Major Clayton had charge of C Section; Captains Welch, Jeffries and Kenny were the officers in charge of the Bearer Divisions. Jeffries and Kenny were both wounded. Captain B. Finn, of Perth, Western Australia, was a specialist in eye and ear diseases. Mr. Cosgrove was the Quartermaster, and Mr. Baber the Warrant Officer; Sergeant Baxter was the Sergeant Clerk. To mention any of the men individually would be invidious. They were as fine a set of men as one would desire to command. In fact, the whole Ambulance was a very happy family, all doing their bit and doing it well. On the 21st of August an attack was made on what were know as the W Hills—so named from their resemblance to that letter of the alphabet. Seated on a hill one had a splendid view of the battle. First the Australians went forward over some open ground at a slow double with bayonets fixed, not firing a shot; the Turks gave them shrapnel and rifle-fire, but very few fell. They got right up to the first Turkish trench, when all the occupants turned out and retired with more speed than elegance. Still our men went on, taking a few prisoners and getting close to the hills, over which they disappeared from my view. Next, a battalion from Suvla came across as supports. The Turks meanwhile had got the range to a nicety; the shrapnel was bursting neatly and low and spreading beautifully—it was the best Turkish shooting I had seen. The battalion was rather badly cut up, but a second body came across in more open order than the others, and well under the control of their officers; they took advantage of cover, and did not lose so many men. The fight was more like those one sees in the illustrated papers than any hitherto—shells bursting, men falling, and bearers going out for the wounded. The position was gained and held, but there was plenty of work for the Ambulance. There were very few horses on the Peninsula, and those few belonged to the Artillery. But at the time I speak of we had one attached to the New Zealand and Australian Headquarters, to be used by the despatch rider. Anzac, the Headquarters of General Birdwood, was about two and a half miles away; and, being a true Australian, the despatch-carrier declined to walk when he could ride, so he rode every day with despatches. Part of the journey had to be made across a position open to fire from Walker's Ridge. We used to watch for the man every day, and make bets whether he would be hit. Directly he entered the fire zone, he started as if he were riding in the Melbourne Cup, sitting low in the saddle, while the bullets kicked up dust all round him. One day the horse returned alone, and everyone thought the man had been hit at last; but in about an hour's time he walked in. The saddle had slipped, and he came off and rolled into a sap, whence he made his way to us on foot. When going through the trenches it is not a disadvantage to be small of stature. It is not good form to put one's head over the sandbags; the Turks invariably objected, and even entered their protest against periscopes, which are very small in size. Numbers of observers were cut about the face and a few lost their eyes through the mirror at the top being smashed by a bullet. On one occasion I was in a trench which the men were making deeper. A rise in the bottom of it just enabled me, by standing on it, to peer through the loophole. On commending the man for leaving this lump, he replied, "That's a dead Turk, sir!" ARTILLERY Watching the Field Artillery firing is very interesting. I went one day with General Johnstone of the New Zealand Artillery to Major Standish's Battery, some distance out on the left, and the observing station was reached through a long sap. It was quite close to the Turk's trenches, close enough to see the men's faces. All directions were given by telephone, and an observer placed on another hill gave the result of the shot—whether under, over, or to the right or left. Errors were corrected and the order to fire again given, the target meanwhile being quite out of sight of the battery commander. It was amusing to hear the heated arguments between the Artillery and Infantry, in which the latter frequently and vehemently asseverated that they "could have taken the sanguinary place only our own Artillery fired on them." They invariably supported these arguments by the production of pieces of shell which had "blanky near put their Australian adjective lights out." Of course the denials of the Artillery under these accusations were very emphatic; but the production of the shell-fragments was awkward evidence, and it was hard to prove an alibi. The advent of the hospital ship Maheno resulted in a pleasant addition to our dietary, as the officers sent ashore some butter, fresh bread and a case of apples. The butter was the first I had tasted for four and a half months. The Maheno belonged to the Union Company, and had been fitted up as a hospital ship under the command of Colonel Collins. He was the essence of hospitality, and a meal on board there was a dream. While we were away along the beach for a swim one afternoon, the Turks began shelling our quarters. It had not happened previously, and everyone thought we were out of range. The firing lasted for about an hour and a half. I fully expected that the whole place would be smashed. On the contrary, beyond a few mules and three men hit, nothing had happened, and there was little in the ground to show the effects of the firing. (I noticed the same with regard to the firing of the naval guns. They appeared to lift tons of earth, but when one traversed the position later very little alteration could be detected.) The Turks, however started at night again, and one shot almost buried me in my dug-out. The number of transports that came in and out of Anzac while we were there was marvellous, and a great tribute to the British Navy. There is no question as to who is Mistress of the Sea. Occasionally we heard of one being torpedoed, but considering the number constantly going to and fro those lost were hardly noticeable. The Southland was torpedoed while we were in Gallipoli, and Major Millard (who was on board) told me that there was not the slightest confusion, and only one life was lost. TURKS AS FIGHTERS One cannot conclude these reminiscences without paying a tribute to Abdul as a fighting man. All I know about him is in his favour. We have heard all about his atrocities and his perfidy and unspeakablenesses, but the men we met fought fairly and squarely; and as for atrocities it is always well to hear the other side of the question. At the beginning of the campaign it was commonly reported that the Turks mutilated our wounded. Now I believe that to be an unmitigated lie, probably given a start by men who had never set foot in the Peninsula—or who, if they did, had taken an early opportunity of departure. We were in a position to know whether any mutilation had occurred, and I certainly saw none. I believe that similar reports were existent among the Turks regarding us, and I formed that opinion from the attitude and behaviour of one of the prisoners when I went to dress his wound. He uttered most piteous cries and his conduct led me to believe that he thought he was to be illtreated. I have mentioned before the class to which most of the prisoners were. They were always most grateful for any kindness shown them. As to their sense of fair play, when the Triumph was sunk, they never fired on her—though I understand it would have been quite allowable directly the men set foot on another warship. Again, about a fortnight after the landing at Anzac, we tried to land a force at Gaba Tepe, but had to retire and leave our wounded. The Turks signalled us to bring them off, and then they never fired or abused the white flag. The third instance occurred on our left, when we made the advance in August. Our Ambulance was under a hill, and a howitzer battery took up a position just in front. The Turk sent word that either the Ambulance or the battery would have to move, otherwise they would be forced to fire on the Ambulance. The shells we got on the beach could not be attributed to any disregard of the Red Cross, for they could not see the flag, and moreover the Ordnance was next to us, a thing utterly out of order, but unavoidable under the circumstances. My career on the Peninsula came to a close at the end of September, when I fell ill and was put on the hospital ship. The same evening a very willing attack was put up by the Turk. One had a good and most interesting view, as one was in perfect safety. The bursting shells in the darkness were very picturesque. Prior to going off we had often discussed the pleasure of getting between sheets and into a decent bed—how one would curl up and enjoy it. But my first night under those conditions was spent in tossing about, without a wink of sleep. It was too quiet. Being accustomed to be lulled to sleep by the noise of six-inch guns from a destroyer going over my dug-out, I could now hear a pin drop, and it was far too quiet. We found we were to be sent to England. Malta was no place in which to get rid of Mediterranean fever. The treatment the people of England give the Australians is handsome in the extreme. They cannot do enough to make them comfortable. Country houses are thrown open to the invalided men, perfect strangers though they are, and all are welcome. Together with Major Courtenay (with whom I came over) I was taken to Lockleys, in Hertfordshire. Sir Evelyn and Lady de La Rue had a standing invitation at Horseferry Road, the Australian Military Headquarters, for six officers. We happened to be among the lucky ones to be included, and the kindness I received from our host and hostess will be remembered during the remainder of my life.   <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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