August 6, 2025 • 29 mins
16 - August 30-September 17, 1915.
Gallipoli Diary, by John Graham Gillam.
Even during the horrors of the brutalizing industrialised slaughter of the First World War the Gallipoli campaign stands as a benchmark for the awful conditions and savage fighting that occurred. The narrow strips of land that the British, Australian, New Zealand and other Dominion troops tried to wrest from the dogged Turkish defenders was under constant shellfire and every item had to be dragged to the frontline under this hellish barrage. Captain (as at the time) Gillam was part of the supply service who risked their lives to get, food, clothing and ammunition up to the troops in the front-line. Gillam gives a clear, concise account not only of the dangers that he faced, but also the men that he served so ably in the front-line.
Gallipoli Diary, by John Graham Gillam.
Even during the horrors of the brutalizing industrialised slaughter of the First World War the Gallipoli campaign stands as a benchmark for the awful conditions and savage fighting that occurred. The narrow strips of land that the British, Australian, New Zealand and other Dominion troops tried to wrest from the dogged Turkish defenders was under constant shellfire and every item had to be dragged to the frontline under this hellish barrage. Captain (as at the time) Gillam was part of the supply service who risked their lives to get, food, clothing and ammunition up to the troops in the front-line. Gillam gives a clear, concise account not only of the dangers that he faced, but also the men that he served so ably in the front-line.
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Section sixteen of Gallipoli Diary. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording
by Sue Anderson. Gallipoli Diary by John Graham Gillum, Section
(00:21):
sixteen August thirtieth to September seventeenth. Nineteen fifteen August thirtieth
A beautiful day again. Turkish batteries very busy all day,
shrapnel and high explosive shell and also dueling between fleet
and land batteries. Otherwise all quiet, nothing doing. Brigade moves
(00:44):
down from trenches to a beach west and news that
we are to go to Imbros for arrest is circulated.
Enemy aeroplane swoops over like an evil looking vulture and
tries to drop bombs on fleet, but has no direct
hit to record. At nightfall, Brigade starts to embark, ready
to sail at daylight. Officers have cabins and so I
(01:07):
am enabled to have a sleep. Am suffering from one
of my beastly colds. However, nice to get away after
the disappointments of that worst of all months August, when
we had expected so much. August thirty first arrived at
Embrose at eight a m. And brigade proceeds to camp
on the lowland by the sea. I mess with the
(01:30):
General and staff, and again parcels arrive opportunely with masterpieces
of cakes and sweets, which are seized by the mess
waiter and daintily served up at table. Oh, the relief
to get away from shell fire and the chill atmosphere
of death in its crudest form. September first, start off
(01:54):
with my man Lewington on donkeys and a pack pony
across the hills over a stony narrow path, with three
little boys in charge of the animals. The way is
sometimes over and sometimes round a line of irregular conical
shaped hills, some almost mountains, covered with thick green gorse,
(02:14):
large boulders, rocks and small stones. The few valleys are
beautifully wooded and dotted with vineyards growing luscious dark grapes,
and also groves of fig trees. One gets glimpses of
the blue Aegean now and again, and the distant isthmus
of Gallipoli and the island of Samothrace, with a coast
(02:35):
of Bulgaria still further off. After two hours trek, during
which I felt as if I was a character in
the scriptures, we sighted the village of Panagaea, and we
had a sporting trot down a narrow, sandy steep path.
One little boy on a donkey, who joined us, raced
me and beat me by a short neck. Poor old
(02:57):
Lewington was hanging onto his moke with a pained but
polite expression on his face, and heaved a sigh of
relief when we arrived at the village. We pulled up
at the Grand Britannia Hotel, recently so named by a Greek.
It is a little broken down house, having on the
ground floor a boot shop and on the first and
(03:20):
top floor two small bare rooms. After a meal of partridge,
omelets and honey, with German beard to drink, I am
taken out to an empty house and shown to a
room furnished only with a bench. My man slept on
the landing and I in the room, and I soon
fell fast asleep. At midnight, I am awakened by certain
(03:43):
creepy insects. I like candles and awake my man and
we conduct a massacre. Our landlord arrives on the scene
much disturbed, and places my bed in the center of
the room, whereupon I turn in again and sleep peacefully
for the rest of the night. September second, awaken the morning,
with the sun streaming in and with the sounds of
(04:05):
cocks crowing and chickens clucking. Looking out the view of
the conical, beautiful hills makes me almost catch my breath,
and God bless my soul. A Greek peasant maiden beauteous
to look upon, and fare of complexion is feeding her
pigs and chickens. After breakfast at the Grand Britannia Hotel
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sounds like the Ritz London, doesn't it. Stuff of all
people rolls up with Monroe. We all lunch together and
then roam around the village, buy a few things and
take photographs. After tea, Duff goes on to Castra by
the sea on the other side of the island, and
Monroe and I go back to camp. It is beautiful
(04:49):
riding back through the hills in the late afternoon, perfect
day and coloring gorgeous. Nearing camp, we get a fine
view of Gallipoli. All is so peaceful where we are,
but just over that narrow strip of sea wore rules
in its most horrible form. Have dinner with Cocks of
(05:10):
the Essex, who turns in at eight thirty, and I
go back to headquarters and have an after dinner smoke
with the General and staff, sitting round a little table
in the Marquee, lit by candle light. September third, start
off with Phillips on a donkey and pony, respectively. Over
the hills. Again, a gorgeous morning, and it is good
(05:32):
to be alive. Peasants give us delightful grapes. As we
ride along. Sheep are grazing their bells, tinkling with a
few cows and bullocks, and now and again a covey
of partridges rises. Arriving at Panagaea, we have a bottle
of beer and then go along the road to Castra
by the sea. Castra is situated on a high hill
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overlooking the sea, with a few fishermen's huts on the beach.
The Isle of Samothrace, which is a cluster of mountains
rising sheer from the sea, lies opposite. The sea is dead,
calm and of a gorgeous blue. A few fishing boats
lie in a tiny little harbor on the right of
the little bay, which is flanked by hills. In the
(06:17):
background are moor hills and low wooded valleys, and we
feel as if we had stepped into the garden of Eden.
Duff is here and we have lunch, after which Duff
returns to Camp Philips and I go up on the
cliff and have a delightful sleep. Everything is dead quiet,
and there is not a cloud in the sky. We
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are right away from the world, and the scene before us,
that of the blue Aegean with Samothrace a few miles away,
has not changed for thousands of years. After tea, we
have a bathe in beautifully clear, warm water and no rocks.
The evening closes in, and the coloring throne by the
(07:01):
declining sun on Samothrace is beautiful. A boat with a
square sail comes sailing home, looking like the return of Ulysses.
After dinner, we turn in and sleep on the floor
of the Verandah September fourth, wake up early, a perfect morning,
but a high wind seem beautiful. Talk to an old
(07:24):
Greek who has been all over the world and in
all the ports of England, and who has come home
to his native island for the rest of his days.
Try fishing, but catch nothing. After lunch, start back to
camp on ponies, stopping at Panagea for tea, arriving home
at six thirty September fifth, start off again for Panagea
(07:46):
with Duff and Elliott and have lunch there. After lunch
we go off to another village where an annual holiday
is being held. Bands are playing and the inhabitants are
dancing weird native dances, appearing very solemn about it. Parties
are going round from house to house visiting and for
taking of refreshment such as grapes, figs, wine and liqueurs.
(08:10):
And old Greek invites us in and his wife forces
us to have grapes, melon, jelly and liqueurs. I take
a bite of cake and was nearly violently ill. We
came back another way through vineyards where grapes can be
had for the asking, olive groves and fig tree orchards.
September sixth a fine day again, but windy. No news
(08:34):
but a rumor that Bulgaria is in against us now
and that we shall be in Gallipoli for the winter.
We go back tomorrow night. We get up a concert
which takes place in the evening. We rig up a platform,
borrow a piano from the Y m c A and
make up a program. I snaffle some champagne for headquarters,
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and after a cheery dinner we go to the concert.
We have some excellent talent, and everybody thoroughly enjoys it.
It is a sight worth seeing, the platform lit by candles,
and the brigade seated around on the sand, some of
those who took part in the landing, some recently in
the fighting at Suvla, and new drafts who have not
(09:19):
yet tasted war. The defense of Lucknow was recited by
Lieutenant Butler of the Worcesters, an actor by profession and
a good fellow, and it went splendidly and gripped us
all new Brigade Major Arrives Wilson of the Royal Fusiliers
September seventh, awake at five and on becoming conscious of
(09:42):
the fact that today I have to go back to
the peninsula to remain Therefore, Lord knows how long I
have the same depressed feeling, only more so that one
has in the days of school. On the last day
of the holiday, at six a m. Philipson Eye and
the supply section embark and on a tossing trawler bucking
(10:05):
about like a wild horse. We undergo the misery of
a four hours crossing in a very rough sea to
souve La Bay, where we arrive at ten a m.
We lie off the swift shure for an hour, and
then two pinnaces come alongside to take us on shore.
Shrapnel is bursting steadily over the lowlands, and one or
(10:28):
two high explosives are now and again bursting on a
beach and w beach. We land soon after eleven a m,
and on arrival back at our part of the promontory,
we find that our camp has been moved to the
end of the long gully, where on the side of
a hill division headquarters are dug In. The contours of
(10:50):
the country are curious great natural scars run down to
a flat plateau washed by the waves. In these gullies,
hundreds of men and an animals are getting what protection
they can. The engineers are building a road on one
side of which is a row of dugouts, artfully hidden
by a row of great boulders. This is our advanced
(11:12):
horse transport depot and a pretty hot shop. As the
Turks have the exact range in front of the dugouts
are the horse lines, where rows and rows of mules
and horses are packed into the throat of the gorge
for shelter. A dry water course winds down the gorge,
so the place will be impossible in winter. As it is,
(11:35):
death takes his daily toll of men and animals, while
down the path come a never ending procession of sick
and wounded from the front line, and very occasionally a
prisoner or two. Up the same path at night, the
reinforcements march to rest in dugouts just behind the line
until their turn to take over arrives. To the left
(11:59):
of the gorge, a huge rocky point runs out to
the sea. This point also is a thick mass of
men and animals practically in the open, so limited is space.
Truly an unfriendly and uninviting country. The hot dust is
over everything. The flies, torment and shells take their toll
(12:22):
of us while we are powerless to hit back. The
mouth of the gorge widens to the beach, where there
are three tiny bays, which with the plateau form a beach.
Kangaroo Beach with its lighter and pontoon quays, its sand
bag dugouts, and the like West Beach the main landing
place with rather better piers and offices, and little West
(12:46):
Beach a sort of overflow to West Beach proper embellished
with a tramline for horse drawn trucks, the Ordnance Depot,
et cetera. All these places are swarming with men, and
over all hangs the eternal dust. Further along on the
plateau Fum West Beach, and looking towards Lalla Baba is
(13:08):
the supply depot and the watering places for the animals,
all in the open, with no protection at all. A
wonderful spectacle, if you like to think of it, and
only possible because John Turk is short of ammunition. Here
in the bare open the troops live from day to day,
a few sand bags only between them and death, and
(13:32):
very few of the dugouts boast A real roof blankets
and waterproof sheets answer that purpose, and so it is
not difficult to imagine the havoc rot when shrapnel is about.
To the north lies the bold forbidding point before mentioned,
with the waves flinging their white manes in anger against
its sides. Such roughly is souve Lea Bay as I
(13:55):
see it now, And I cannot say that it impresses
me as a practic proposition. Dug in on the side
of a slope the others have built a house, or
as far as dugouts in Gallipoli go a summer residence.
The door faces the rise leading up to the rugged point,
from the craggy back of which one sees the cliff
(14:17):
side dropping sheer to the sea. The roof of corrugated
iron slopes at the same angle as the slope of
the ground in which we have dug for walls. The
dugout earth forms the back wall, and the side walls
are built of biscuit boxes. We spend the day improving
on this. Immediately in front is our supply depot, divided
(14:39):
into three dumps, one each for the eighty sixth, eighty
seventh and eighty eighth brigades. At dusk, the pack mules
and army transport carts form up and we load onto
the set of mules or carts allotted to each unit,
the rations and fuel. The transport then moves off by
brigades to the front, the mules led by drabbis, the
(15:03):
carts driven also by drabbis, and the whole escorted by
Indian noncommissioned officers under a white non commissioned officer, Quartermaster, Sergeants,
transport non commissioned officers, guides of the units, and the
Army Service Corps Transport officer accompanied them to the respective
battalion and dumps situated a distance of two hundred to
(15:27):
three hundred yards behind the front line. In some cases,
convoys proceed direct to the regimental cook houses. The transport
dares not show itself by day. Tonight, Arbrigade arrives from
Imbros and is to spend the night in Delile's Gully,
some short distance to the left of the road that
leads to Lone Tree Gully, but up the hill rather,
(15:50):
and so our rations go there. Water has been put
there for them by Carver last night. We watch this
water question closely. It needs care, handling and foresight. A
man can go hungry much longer than he can go thirsty,
and water is far more difficult to transport by sea
than food. Imbrose is the source of our supply, and
(16:13):
water tank lighters are filled there and towed over each day.
The water dump is on a beach, and all the
divisions that are being supplied from this promontory draw from
this dump. An able man one Private Jones is in charge.
Though before the war a London County Council school teacher,
(16:34):
he appears to be the one man in the world
who could be chosen to be the most efficient and
tactful organizer of the difficult task of satisfying an army
of thirty thousand men with their daily requirements of water
from a limited source and by means of a limited
supply of receptacles steadily diminishing in number. At seven, I
(16:58):
go up with Carver to the hill headquarters of the
eighty sixth Brigade. Instead of walking up the road that
leads to Pine Tree Gully, we bear off to the
right and pass along a lower road through the wooded,
gorse covered lowlands for a distance of about a mile
and a half inland, until bullets are merrily singing their
song of war overhead. ZIP One goes between us a
(17:23):
pause in the conversation, and Carver says that was not pleasant,
to which I agree, but adding if hit it means blighty,
my boy, the savoy and theaters or finish, as we
say in Egypt. We come to a wide space in
front of us, and to our left is high ground
rising in one place to about thirty feet. Carver tells
(17:46):
me that we are at Brigade dumping ground. Army transport
carts are packed here in readiness to bring the baggage
back to the beach for the eighty sixth Brigade, as
it is their turn now to go to Imbros. He
searches for his staff captain in the dark, and I
go up to the bushes in front and talk to Baxter,
the quartermaster of the Munsters, and a few other officers
(18:09):
who are sitting down on a rock. As I stand there,
I hear close to my ear zip an unseen hand
appears to strike a bush with a big stick. On
my left, Baxter says, you are standing in a place
where bullets keep dropping. You should sit down one just
past your head. I am always sensitive as to how
(18:30):
to behave on these occasions with men whose lives are
always passed in the trenches, and so I reply, did it?
I heard the thing plain enough and sat down promptly.
I have learned to take my cue as to what
to do from such men, and they are always right.
Many a man has been hit by totally disregarding the
(18:50):
necessity of taking cover, believing that others may think he
has cold feet, and he wishes to prove that he
is brave by bravado. He forgets he is more useful
to his country alive. There are many times when he
must take risk, so it is wiser for him to
reserve his bravado for those times. I sit down, and
(19:12):
a minute after zip again and thud into the bush.
Baxter tells me that it is only this corner which
is dangerous, but that they are sitting there because it
is a nice seat and the only one handy for waiting.
If you walk about the rest of the space, the
bullets are flying high, and one is safe. This happens
(19:33):
all over the peninsula, owing to the curious formation of
the land. At one area of a certain spot, bullets
may hit the ground regularly on or near that part,
while a few yards away they fly high. Soon one
becomes familiar with this peculiarity and acts accordingly. It is
because some turks may be on a rise, others on
(19:55):
the ground. They generally fire at nothing in particular but
straight in front of them. All night they fire away
crack crack, crack, crack, and must waste a lot of ammunition. Carter,
having finished his arrangements, calls me, and we walk back
a short distance over a small rise, threading our way
(20:17):
along a path, no doubt used not long since by
Turkish farmers. Descending a slope, we passed to the right
by a little hill not more than thirty feet high,
and make towards a light which is eighty sixth Brigade Headquarters.
We are walking up to the door and can see
General Percival and Thompson sitting in the mess room dugout.
(20:39):
When we are four yards away from them, the General says,
good evening, Carver. When Carver, to my astonishment, using a
fearful oath, disappears into the earth. The light from headquarters
mess dazzles my eyes somewhat, and I stopped dead still
looking at the place where Carver had performed his pantomiic
(20:59):
vanishing train. When he again appears, looking foolish. He had
neatly stepped into a dugout, which I found out after
was waiting to be filled in, and we had not
noticed it on account of the light in our eyes.
We go in and chat, and I tell them of
the joys and beauty which they are to taste and
(21:19):
see on imbros back to the beach, where I find
our staff. Captain Hadow arrived. The brigade is arriving, hundreds
of dark, shadowy figures quietly falling in in platoons and
marching off inland. I talked to Mold a while about
the eternal topic water, and then turn in September eighth
(21:43):
to night. I go up to brigade, this time a
different way across country, following a guide who has been
down for rations and tells me he knows a quick way.
We pass in and out of boulders and clumps of gorse,
down the rocky gully where division headquarters were for a
few nights, past clumps of trees over grass, over an
(22:04):
open space with more pinging bullets than ever. At last
to headquarters and find them all sitting in darkness, and
the General rather anxious about the non arrival of two
of his battalions who have missed their way and are
having a country night ramble all over the place, groping
about in the dark. Coming back, I passed the Hampshires,
(22:26):
and an officer asking me the way, I direct him
to headquarters. September fourteenth, The past days since I last
entered up my diary have been so monotonous that in
a fit of sulkiness, I threw it on one side,
saying I would not record another day's events. For nothing happens.
(22:48):
The monotony knocks hellas sideways. I go up every morning
to division headquarters at the top of our gully to
take instructions. I see the main supply depot to arranged
drawing the day's supplies. I wire the strength of the
division to general headquarters. I read papers three to four
weeks old. I answer letters of the same age. Some
(23:13):
days I go up the slope opposite our bivouac, and
climbing down the cliff on the other side have a
topping bathe. I strafe flies by the thousand. They are
a damnable pest. I watch the battleships popping away, and
at odd times have to duck from a turkey shell.
At dusk, I superintend the loading up of rations and water,
(23:36):
and go up to brigade headquarters for a chat. The
atmosphere of their company, however, always bucks me up. Our
guns pop off at odd intervals each day, and ammunition
appears to becoming more plentiful. The Turks are continually busy
with shrapnel over Chocolate Hill and the lowland, especially at
Hill ten, where we have several batteries, and now and
(24:00):
again the beeches Sea Beach on the other side of
Lalla Baba over the bay, however, gets it far worse
than we do. However, generally speaking, I do not think
the Turk fires as much as we do. Well, I
will continue the diary. Things cannot go on like this forever,
and the best thing to do is to accept the
(24:23):
life as it comes and treat everything as a matter
of course, even shells. All of us who have been
on here any length of time feel that our time
to get hit will eventually arrive. Personally, I prefer the
sledge hammer blow from the unseen hand, namely a bullet
(24:44):
from a rifle. I have been feeling very seedy the
last few days, with the common complaint that men are
going sick fast with now. I went up to the
brigade to night, but felt very ill when there, and
was glad to swallow a strong brandy, which the General
offered to me. Coming back over the gorse, bullets seemed
(25:05):
freer than usual, thudding into the bushes on my right
and left. I felt sick and faint and sat down
waiting for an empty mule cart returning on its way
to the beach. One soon came with two men of
the Essex, and I was thankful for the lift home
Puka original twenty ninth men of the Essex and good fellows.
(25:28):
About a dozen motor laurries have landed and I have
managed to snaffle four of them to draw supplies from
the main supply depot to our divisional depot, both now
at this end of the promontory. Transport at this end
of the promontory, if not too congested, only get shelled
at very rare intervals during the day, not sufficient to
(25:50):
stop its work. Motor lawries make the time that we
take in drawing much shorter, and I wonder that they
were not at hellas before. We used army transport carts
for this drawing here and it took up practically the
whole morning. We do not have such good targets as
the Turks have. To them. We are laid out as
(26:12):
a panorama, and to us they are dug in out
of sight on the slopes of rocky almost impregnable fastnesses.
Today we have heard the boom of guns from the
south and there must be a heavy bombardment going on there.
The weather has broken and we get a strong wind
blowing each day, now frequently developing into a gale. A
(26:36):
cold wind is now and again thrown in, and at
nights we get a little rain. It is very rough
and difficulty is being experienced in landing stuff. Told that
good news will be published to night. September fifteenth, heavy
rain before breakfast this morning clears off. Later everybody busy
(26:57):
digging in can see new airship ship going up at Imbros.
It has not yet made an active trip. Prince George
is firing with a heavy list in order to get
long range, probably firing at Channik. September sixteenth and seventeenth.
Each day the battleships, at odd intervals fire at various
(27:18):
targets on shore. First a small hill rising from the
high ground on the Turkish right, which we have named
the Pimple and on which Turkish batteries are in position.
Next on Anapharta and Burnt Hill behind Chocolate Hill, next
on the slopes of serri Bear. Our batteries on shore
occasionally fire off a few rounds owing. I suppose to
(27:42):
the fact that there are hills in front of us.
The sound of guns firing is louder than it was
at hellas when our eighteen pounder batteries on shore fire.
The noise of the report is very much like a
door upstairs banging loudly on a windy day. I am
getting much and think it is because I manage to
get a bathe now and again. There is a very
(28:05):
good place where I bathe and often visit, not so
very far from our dugout. It is a little cove,
plentifully besprinkled with huge boulders and protected on all sides.
We walk up the rugged slope opposite our dugout to
the top of the cliff. Then there is a difficult
descent down the sheer face of the cliff to the
(28:26):
water's edge. It seems so odd to be on this
little patch of rock where we seem to leave the
war miles behind us. Then we hear it muttering and
grumbling in the hills above and behind us. Sometimes, when
least expected, a battleship looses off with a roar that
shakes the crags above us. But we are safe, quite safe,
(28:50):
as no shells can reach this spot. And so in
the midst almost of this welter of blood, disease and death.
Quite lightheartedly, we proceed to the most peaceful of pastimes, bathing.
I go up to headquarters after dinner and enjoyed the walk,
feeling ready for bed when I return. End of Section sixteen.
Section sixteen of Gallipoli Diary. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording
by Sue Anderson. Gallipoli Diary by John Graham Gillum, Section
(00:21):
sixteen August thirtieth to September seventeenth. Nineteen fifteen August thirtieth
A beautiful day again. Turkish batteries very busy all day,
shrapnel and high explosive shell and also dueling between fleet
and land batteries. Otherwise all quiet, nothing doing. Brigade moves
(00:44):
down from trenches to a beach west and news that
we are to go to Imbros for arrest is circulated.
Enemy aeroplane swoops over like an evil looking vulture and
tries to drop bombs on fleet, but has no direct
hit to record. At nightfall, Brigade starts to embark, ready
to sail at daylight. Officers have cabins and so I
(01:07):
am enabled to have a sleep. Am suffering from one
of my beastly colds. However, nice to get away after
the disappointments of that worst of all months August, when
we had expected so much. August thirty first arrived at
Embrose at eight a m. And brigade proceeds to camp
on the lowland by the sea. I mess with the
(01:30):
General and staff, and again parcels arrive opportunely with masterpieces
of cakes and sweets, which are seized by the mess
waiter and daintily served up at table. Oh, the relief
to get away from shell fire and the chill atmosphere
of death in its crudest form. September first, start off
(01:54):
with my man Lewington on donkeys and a pack pony
across the hills over a stony narrow path, with three
little boys in charge of the animals. The way is
sometimes over and sometimes round a line of irregular conical
shaped hills, some almost mountains, covered with thick green gorse,
(02:14):
large boulders, rocks and small stones. The few valleys are
beautifully wooded and dotted with vineyards growing luscious dark grapes,
and also groves of fig trees. One gets glimpses of
the blue Aegean now and again, and the distant isthmus
of Gallipoli and the island of Samothrace, with a coast
(02:35):
of Bulgaria still further off. After two hours trek, during
which I felt as if I was a character in
the scriptures, we sighted the village of Panagaea, and we
had a sporting trot down a narrow, sandy steep path.
One little boy on a donkey, who joined us, raced
me and beat me by a short neck. Poor old
(02:57):
Lewington was hanging onto his moke with a pained but
polite expression on his face, and heaved a sigh of
relief when we arrived at the village. We pulled up
at the Grand Britannia Hotel, recently so named by a Greek.
It is a little broken down house, having on the
ground floor a boot shop and on the first and
(03:20):
top floor two small bare rooms. After a meal of partridge,
omelets and honey, with German beard to drink, I am
taken out to an empty house and shown to a
room furnished only with a bench. My man slept on
the landing and I in the room, and I soon
fell fast asleep. At midnight, I am awakened by certain
(03:43):
creepy insects. I like candles and awake my man and
we conduct a massacre. Our landlord arrives on the scene
much disturbed, and places my bed in the center of
the room, whereupon I turn in again and sleep peacefully
for the rest of the night. September second, awaken the morning,
with the sun streaming in and with the sounds of
(04:05):
cocks crowing and chickens clucking. Looking out the view of
the conical, beautiful hills makes me almost catch my breath,
and God bless my soul. A Greek peasant maiden beauteous
to look upon, and fare of complexion is feeding her
pigs and chickens. After breakfast at the Grand Britannia Hotel
(04:28):
sounds like the Ritz London, doesn't it. Stuff of all
people rolls up with Monroe. We all lunch together and
then roam around the village, buy a few things and
take photographs. After tea, Duff goes on to Castra by
the sea on the other side of the island, and
Monroe and I go back to camp. It is beautiful
(04:49):
riding back through the hills in the late afternoon, perfect
day and coloring gorgeous. Nearing camp, we get a fine
view of Gallipoli. All is so peaceful where we are,
but just over that narrow strip of sea wore rules
in its most horrible form. Have dinner with Cocks of
(05:10):
the Essex, who turns in at eight thirty, and I
go back to headquarters and have an after dinner smoke
with the General and staff, sitting round a little table
in the Marquee, lit by candle light. September third, start
off with Phillips on a donkey and pony, respectively. Over
the hills. Again, a gorgeous morning, and it is good
(05:32):
to be alive. Peasants give us delightful grapes. As we
ride along. Sheep are grazing their bells, tinkling with a
few cows and bullocks, and now and again a covey
of partridges rises. Arriving at Panagaea, we have a bottle
of beer and then go along the road to Castra
by the sea. Castra is situated on a high hill
(05:54):
overlooking the sea, with a few fishermen's huts on the beach.
The Isle of Samothrace, which is a cluster of mountains
rising sheer from the sea, lies opposite. The sea is dead,
calm and of a gorgeous blue. A few fishing boats
lie in a tiny little harbor on the right of
the little bay, which is flanked by hills. In the
(06:17):
background are moor hills and low wooded valleys, and we
feel as if we had stepped into the garden of Eden.
Duff is here and we have lunch, after which Duff
returns to Camp Philips and I go up on the
cliff and have a delightful sleep. Everything is dead quiet,
and there is not a cloud in the sky. We
(06:40):
are right away from the world, and the scene before us,
that of the blue Aegean with Samothrace a few miles away,
has not changed for thousands of years. After tea, we
have a bathe in beautifully clear, warm water and no rocks.
The evening closes in, and the coloring throne by the
(07:01):
declining sun on Samothrace is beautiful. A boat with a
square sail comes sailing home, looking like the return of Ulysses.
After dinner, we turn in and sleep on the floor
of the Verandah September fourth, wake up early, a perfect morning,
but a high wind seem beautiful. Talk to an old
(07:24):
Greek who has been all over the world and in
all the ports of England, and who has come home
to his native island for the rest of his days.
Try fishing, but catch nothing. After lunch, start back to
camp on ponies, stopping at Panagea for tea, arriving home
at six thirty September fifth, start off again for Panagea
(07:46):
with Duff and Elliott and have lunch there. After lunch
we go off to another village where an annual holiday
is being held. Bands are playing and the inhabitants are
dancing weird native dances, appearing very solemn about it. Parties
are going round from house to house visiting and for
taking of refreshment such as grapes, figs, wine and liqueurs.
(08:10):
And old Greek invites us in and his wife forces
us to have grapes, melon, jelly and liqueurs. I take
a bite of cake and was nearly violently ill. We
came back another way through vineyards where grapes can be
had for the asking, olive groves and fig tree orchards.
September sixth a fine day again, but windy. No news
(08:34):
but a rumor that Bulgaria is in against us now
and that we shall be in Gallipoli for the winter.
We go back tomorrow night. We get up a concert
which takes place in the evening. We rig up a platform,
borrow a piano from the Y m c A and
make up a program. I snaffle some champagne for headquarters,
(08:56):
and after a cheery dinner we go to the concert.
We have some excellent talent, and everybody thoroughly enjoys it.
It is a sight worth seeing, the platform lit by candles,
and the brigade seated around on the sand, some of
those who took part in the landing, some recently in
the fighting at Suvla, and new drafts who have not
(09:19):
yet tasted war. The defense of Lucknow was recited by
Lieutenant Butler of the Worcesters, an actor by profession and
a good fellow, and it went splendidly and gripped us
all new Brigade Major Arrives Wilson of the Royal Fusiliers
September seventh, awake at five and on becoming conscious of
(09:42):
the fact that today I have to go back to
the peninsula to remain Therefore, Lord knows how long I
have the same depressed feeling, only more so that one
has in the days of school. On the last day
of the holiday, at six a m. Philipson Eye and
the supply section embark and on a tossing trawler bucking
(10:05):
about like a wild horse. We undergo the misery of
a four hours crossing in a very rough sea to
souve La Bay, where we arrive at ten a m.
We lie off the swift shure for an hour, and
then two pinnaces come alongside to take us on shore.
Shrapnel is bursting steadily over the lowlands, and one or
(10:28):
two high explosives are now and again bursting on a
beach and w beach. We land soon after eleven a m,
and on arrival back at our part of the promontory,
we find that our camp has been moved to the
end of the long gully, where on the side of
a hill division headquarters are dug In. The contours of
(10:50):
the country are curious great natural scars run down to
a flat plateau washed by the waves. In these gullies,
hundreds of men and an animals are getting what protection
they can. The engineers are building a road on one
side of which is a row of dugouts, artfully hidden
by a row of great boulders. This is our advanced
(11:12):
horse transport depot and a pretty hot shop. As the
Turks have the exact range in front of the dugouts
are the horse lines, where rows and rows of mules
and horses are packed into the throat of the gorge
for shelter. A dry water course winds down the gorge,
so the place will be impossible in winter. As it is,
(11:35):
death takes his daily toll of men and animals, while
down the path come a never ending procession of sick
and wounded from the front line, and very occasionally a
prisoner or two. Up the same path at night, the
reinforcements march to rest in dugouts just behind the line
until their turn to take over arrives. To the left
(11:59):
of the gorge, a huge rocky point runs out to
the sea. This point also is a thick mass of
men and animals practically in the open, so limited is space.
Truly an unfriendly and uninviting country. The hot dust is
over everything. The flies, torment and shells take their toll
(12:22):
of us while we are powerless to hit back. The
mouth of the gorge widens to the beach, where there
are three tiny bays, which with the plateau form a beach.
Kangaroo Beach with its lighter and pontoon quays, its sand
bag dugouts, and the like West Beach the main landing
place with rather better piers and offices, and little West
(12:46):
Beach a sort of overflow to West Beach proper embellished
with a tramline for horse drawn trucks, the Ordnance Depot,
et cetera. All these places are swarming with men, and
over all hangs the eternal dust. Further along on the
plateau Fum West Beach, and looking towards Lalla Baba is
(13:08):
the supply depot and the watering places for the animals,
all in the open, with no protection at all. A
wonderful spectacle, if you like to think of it, and
only possible because John Turk is short of ammunition. Here
in the bare open the troops live from day to day,
a few sand bags only between them and death, and
(13:32):
very few of the dugouts boast A real roof blankets
and waterproof sheets answer that purpose, and so it is
not difficult to imagine the havoc rot when shrapnel is about.
To the north lies the bold forbidding point before mentioned,
with the waves flinging their white manes in anger against
its sides. Such roughly is souve Lea Bay as I
(13:55):
see it now, And I cannot say that it impresses
me as a practic proposition. Dug in on the side
of a slope the others have built a house, or
as far as dugouts in Gallipoli go a summer residence.
The door faces the rise leading up to the rugged point,
from the craggy back of which one sees the cliff
(14:17):
side dropping sheer to the sea. The roof of corrugated
iron slopes at the same angle as the slope of
the ground in which we have dug for walls. The
dugout earth forms the back wall, and the side walls
are built of biscuit boxes. We spend the day improving
on this. Immediately in front is our supply depot, divided
(14:39):
into three dumps, one each for the eighty sixth, eighty
seventh and eighty eighth brigades. At dusk, the pack mules
and army transport carts form up and we load onto
the set of mules or carts allotted to each unit,
the rations and fuel. The transport then moves off by
brigades to the front, the mules led by drabbis, the
(15:03):
carts driven also by drabbis, and the whole escorted by
Indian noncommissioned officers under a white non commissioned officer, Quartermaster, Sergeants,
transport non commissioned officers, guides of the units, and the
Army Service Corps Transport officer accompanied them to the respective
battalion and dumps situated a distance of two hundred to
(15:27):
three hundred yards behind the front line. In some cases,
convoys proceed direct to the regimental cook houses. The transport
dares not show itself by day. Tonight, Arbrigade arrives from
Imbros and is to spend the night in Delile's Gully,
some short distance to the left of the road that
leads to Lone Tree Gully, but up the hill rather,
(15:50):
and so our rations go there. Water has been put
there for them by Carver last night. We watch this
water question closely. It needs care, handling and foresight. A
man can go hungry much longer than he can go thirsty,
and water is far more difficult to transport by sea
than food. Imbrose is the source of our supply, and
(16:13):
water tank lighters are filled there and towed over each day.
The water dump is on a beach, and all the
divisions that are being supplied from this promontory draw from
this dump. An able man one Private Jones is in charge.
Though before the war a London County Council school teacher,
(16:34):
he appears to be the one man in the world
who could be chosen to be the most efficient and
tactful organizer of the difficult task of satisfying an army
of thirty thousand men with their daily requirements of water
from a limited source and by means of a limited
supply of receptacles steadily diminishing in number. At seven, I
(16:58):
go up with Carver to the hill headquarters of the
eighty sixth Brigade. Instead of walking up the road that
leads to Pine Tree Gully, we bear off to the
right and pass along a lower road through the wooded,
gorse covered lowlands for a distance of about a mile
and a half inland, until bullets are merrily singing their
song of war overhead. ZIP One goes between us a
(17:23):
pause in the conversation, and Carver says that was not pleasant,
to which I agree, but adding if hit it means blighty,
my boy, the savoy and theaters or finish, as we
say in Egypt. We come to a wide space in
front of us, and to our left is high ground
rising in one place to about thirty feet. Carver tells
(17:46):
me that we are at Brigade dumping ground. Army transport
carts are packed here in readiness to bring the baggage
back to the beach for the eighty sixth Brigade, as
it is their turn now to go to Imbros. He
searches for his staff captain in the dark, and I
go up to the bushes in front and talk to Baxter,
the quartermaster of the Munsters, and a few other officers
(18:09):
who are sitting down on a rock. As I stand there,
I hear close to my ear zip an unseen hand
appears to strike a bush with a big stick. On
my left, Baxter says, you are standing in a place
where bullets keep dropping. You should sit down one just
past your head. I am always sensitive as to how
(18:30):
to behave on these occasions with men whose lives are
always passed in the trenches, and so I reply, did it?
I heard the thing plain enough and sat down promptly.
I have learned to take my cue as to what
to do from such men, and they are always right.
Many a man has been hit by totally disregarding the
(18:50):
necessity of taking cover, believing that others may think he
has cold feet, and he wishes to prove that he
is brave by bravado. He forgets he is more useful
to his country alive. There are many times when he
must take risk, so it is wiser for him to
reserve his bravado for those times. I sit down, and
(19:12):
a minute after zip again and thud into the bush.
Baxter tells me that it is only this corner which
is dangerous, but that they are sitting there because it
is a nice seat and the only one handy for waiting.
If you walk about the rest of the space, the
bullets are flying high, and one is safe. This happens
(19:33):
all over the peninsula, owing to the curious formation of
the land. At one area of a certain spot, bullets
may hit the ground regularly on or near that part,
while a few yards away they fly high. Soon one
becomes familiar with this peculiarity and acts accordingly. It is
because some turks may be on a rise, others on
(19:55):
the ground. They generally fire at nothing in particular but
straight in front of them. All night they fire away
crack crack, crack, crack, and must waste a lot of ammunition. Carter,
having finished his arrangements, calls me, and we walk back
a short distance over a small rise, threading our way
(20:17):
along a path, no doubt used not long since by
Turkish farmers. Descending a slope, we passed to the right
by a little hill not more than thirty feet high,
and make towards a light which is eighty sixth Brigade Headquarters.
We are walking up to the door and can see
General Percival and Thompson sitting in the mess room dugout.
(20:39):
When we are four yards away from them, the General says,
good evening, Carver. When Carver, to my astonishment, using a
fearful oath, disappears into the earth. The light from headquarters
mess dazzles my eyes somewhat, and I stopped dead still
looking at the place where Carver had performed his pantomiic
(20:59):
vanishing train. When he again appears, looking foolish. He had
neatly stepped into a dugout, which I found out after
was waiting to be filled in, and we had not
noticed it on account of the light in our eyes.
We go in and chat, and I tell them of
the joys and beauty which they are to taste and
(21:19):
see on imbros back to the beach, where I find
our staff. Captain Hadow arrived. The brigade is arriving, hundreds
of dark, shadowy figures quietly falling in in platoons and
marching off inland. I talked to Mold a while about
the eternal topic water, and then turn in September eighth
(21:43):
to night. I go up to brigade, this time a
different way across country, following a guide who has been
down for rations and tells me he knows a quick way.
We pass in and out of boulders and clumps of gorse,
down the rocky gully where division headquarters were for a
few nights, past clumps of trees over grass, over an
(22:04):
open space with more pinging bullets than ever. At last
to headquarters and find them all sitting in darkness, and
the General rather anxious about the non arrival of two
of his battalions who have missed their way and are
having a country night ramble all over the place, groping
about in the dark. Coming back, I passed the Hampshires,
(22:26):
and an officer asking me the way, I direct him
to headquarters. September fourteenth, The past days since I last
entered up my diary have been so monotonous that in
a fit of sulkiness, I threw it on one side,
saying I would not record another day's events. For nothing happens.
(22:48):
The monotony knocks hellas sideways. I go up every morning
to division headquarters at the top of our gully to
take instructions. I see the main supply depot to arranged
drawing the day's supplies. I wire the strength of the
division to general headquarters. I read papers three to four
weeks old. I answer letters of the same age. Some
(23:13):
days I go up the slope opposite our bivouac, and
climbing down the cliff on the other side have a
topping bathe. I strafe flies by the thousand. They are
a damnable pest. I watch the battleships popping away, and
at odd times have to duck from a turkey shell.
At dusk, I superintend the loading up of rations and water,
(23:36):
and go up to brigade headquarters for a chat. The
atmosphere of their company, however, always bucks me up. Our
guns pop off at odd intervals each day, and ammunition
appears to becoming more plentiful. The Turks are continually busy
with shrapnel over Chocolate Hill and the lowland, especially at
Hill ten, where we have several batteries, and now and
(24:00):
again the beeches Sea Beach on the other side of
Lalla Baba over the bay, however, gets it far worse
than we do. However, generally speaking, I do not think
the Turk fires as much as we do. Well, I
will continue the diary. Things cannot go on like this forever,
and the best thing to do is to accept the
(24:23):
life as it comes and treat everything as a matter
of course, even shells. All of us who have been
on here any length of time feel that our time
to get hit will eventually arrive. Personally, I prefer the
sledge hammer blow from the unseen hand, namely a bullet
(24:44):
from a rifle. I have been feeling very seedy the
last few days, with the common complaint that men are
going sick fast with now. I went up to the
brigade to night, but felt very ill when there, and
was glad to swallow a strong brandy, which the General
offered to me. Coming back over the gorse, bullets seemed
(25:05):
freer than usual, thudding into the bushes on my right
and left. I felt sick and faint and sat down
waiting for an empty mule cart returning on its way
to the beach. One soon came with two men of
the Essex, and I was thankful for the lift home
Puka original twenty ninth men of the Essex and good fellows.
(25:28):
About a dozen motor laurries have landed and I have
managed to snaffle four of them to draw supplies from
the main supply depot to our divisional depot, both now
at this end of the promontory. Transport at this end
of the promontory, if not too congested, only get shelled
at very rare intervals during the day, not sufficient to
(25:50):
stop its work. Motor lawries make the time that we
take in drawing much shorter, and I wonder that they
were not at hellas before. We used army transport carts
for this drawing here and it took up practically the
whole morning. We do not have such good targets as
the Turks have. To them. We are laid out as
(26:12):
a panorama, and to us they are dug in out
of sight on the slopes of rocky almost impregnable fastnesses.
Today we have heard the boom of guns from the
south and there must be a heavy bombardment going on there.
The weather has broken and we get a strong wind
blowing each day, now frequently developing into a gale. A
(26:36):
cold wind is now and again thrown in, and at
nights we get a little rain. It is very rough
and difficulty is being experienced in landing stuff. Told that
good news will be published to night. September fifteenth, heavy
rain before breakfast this morning clears off. Later everybody busy
(26:57):
digging in can see new airship ship going up at Imbros.
It has not yet made an active trip. Prince George
is firing with a heavy list in order to get
long range, probably firing at Channik. September sixteenth and seventeenth.
Each day the battleships, at odd intervals fire at various
(27:18):
targets on shore. First a small hill rising from the
high ground on the Turkish right, which we have named
the Pimple and on which Turkish batteries are in position.
Next on Anapharta and Burnt Hill behind Chocolate Hill, next
on the slopes of serri Bear. Our batteries on shore
occasionally fire off a few rounds owing. I suppose to
(27:42):
the fact that there are hills in front of us.
The sound of guns firing is louder than it was
at hellas when our eighteen pounder batteries on shore fire.
The noise of the report is very much like a
door upstairs banging loudly on a windy day. I am
getting much and think it is because I manage to
get a bathe now and again. There is a very
(28:05):
good place where I bathe and often visit, not so
very far from our dugout. It is a little cove,
plentifully besprinkled with huge boulders and protected on all sides.
We walk up the rugged slope opposite our dugout to
the top of the cliff. Then there is a difficult
descent down the sheer face of the cliff to the
(28:26):
water's edge. It seems so odd to be on this
little patch of rock where we seem to leave the
war miles behind us. Then we hear it muttering and
grumbling in the hills above and behind us. Sometimes, when
least expected, a battleship looses off with a roar that
shakes the crags above us. But we are safe, quite safe,
(28:50):
as no shells can reach this spot. And so in
the midst almost of this welter of blood, disease and death.
Quite lightheartedly, we proceed to the most peaceful of pastimes, bathing.
I go up to headquarters after dinner and enjoyed the walk,
feeling ready for bed when I return. End of Section sixteen.
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