ANZAC, 1915 (continued 3)

At Mudros the majority of the sick and wounded on our hospital ship were sent to England, but my friend and I were luckily carried on to Egypt.

Diary. September 23rd. There was a remarkable man on board the Manitou, Major K. He had led 240 men into a Turkish trench; three had returned unwounded, but he got most of his wounded back with eighteen men. The Adjutant was killed on his back. He himself had already been wounded twice. Finally, he left the trench alone, and turned round and faced the Turks at 200 yards. They never fired at him, because, he said, “they admired me.” This officer found a D.S.O. waiting for him in Egypt, and has since earned the V.C. in France, for which he had been previously recommended in South Africa. He and I returned to the Dardanelles together while he still had a long, unhealed bayonet wound in his leg.

At Alexandria, fortunately for myself, I had relations who were working there. I went to the hospital of a friend. It was a great marble palace, surrounded by lawns and fountains, and made, at any rate, gorgeous within by the loves of the Gods, painted in the colours of the Egyptian sunset on the ceilings.

The Englishwomen in Alexandria were working like slaves for the wounded and the sick. They did all that was humanly possible to make up for the improvidence and the callousness of the home medical authorities. Thanks to their untiring and unceasing work, day and night, these ladies saved great numbers of British lives.

One day the Sultan came to inspect the hospital where I was a patient. For reasons of toilette, I should have preferred not to have been seen on that occasion by His Highness, but the royal eye fixed itself upon my kimono, and I was taken aside for a few minutes’ conversation.

Diary. (Subsequently written on the Peninsula.) The Sultan said that he was very grieved about the Conservative party, because of the Coalition, I suppose, and also about Gallipoli. There I cordially agreed.

I went up to Cairo for a few days, and found the city and life there very changed. Shepheard’s was filled with the ghosts of those who had left on and since April 12th.

In Egypt the danger of the Canal had passed, but anxiety had not gone with it. There was much doubt as to what the Senoussi would be likely to do and what consequences their action would have. They had little to gain by attacking, but all knew that this would not necessarily deter them. I was in Cairo when Fathy Pasha was stabbed, and those in authority feared for the life of the Sultan.

My friend Charlie B. and Major K. and I left Alexandria in brilliant moonlight. Our boat could do a bare twelve knots an hour. On the journey rockets went up at night, S.O.S. signals were sent us, all in vain: we were not to be seduced from our steady spinster’s course to Mudros. When we again reached that place we found that our sister-ship, the Ramadan, had been torpedoed.

Diary. (Written September 23rd.) General Godley was on the Lord Nelson. He had been sick for some time, and had been taking three days off. Roger Keyes desperately anxious to go up the Dardanelles, come what may. He is the proper man to do it, but I think it’s only singeing the King of Spain’s beard.

At Imbros the General, Charlie B. and I had a stormy row ashore and a long walk to G.H.Q., where I found Willy Percy, who had been badly wounded, now recovering. I saw Tyrrell, G. L. and Dedez. The news had just come through of Bulgaria’s mobilization, but they did not know against whom. I wonder if the Bulgars will attack both the Serbs and the Turks. That would be a topsy-turvy, Balkan thing to do, and might suit their book. We ought to have had them in on our side six months ago. From G.H.Q. we came back to Anzac. The General has had my dugout kept for me in the fort, where Christo and I now live in solitude, for all the rest are gone. I found a lot of new uniforms and a magnificent cap. When I put this on Christo cried violently: “No, no, no, not until we ride into Constantinople as conquerors.”

H.Q. are on the other side of the Turkish fort, in a tiny valley across which you can throw a stone. They have all the appearance of a more comfortable Pompeii, and are scarcely more alive; it is the quietest town I have ever seen; there lies in front a ridge of valley, a dip of blue sea and a good deal of the Anafarta plain. The first night on arriving the cold was bitter, also next morning. Pleurisy has already started. This morning the General went up to the Apex and behind it. He was not at all pleased with the fire trenches. He nearly drove C., the officer at that moment instructing the Australians, mad, first by criticizing everything—I thought pretty justly—and then by standing about in view of the Turks and not worrying about shells or bombs. I did my best to get him in. The Australians were all laughing at C. for his caution and fussiness. Incidentally, one of the big mortar-bombs fell in the trench as we arrived. Hastings is Intelligence officer. It’s luck to have got him.

Sunday, September 24, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. A lovely morning. There was a bracing chill of autumn and yet warm air and a smiling, southern look across Anafarta plain, with great hills on the other side, stately and formidable. Swallows everywhere. Up till now it’s been very silent. I thought that the noise of war was past, but bullets and shells have been whining and moaning over us. At Anzac yesterday morning they had about twenty men hit by one shell, and I saw a lot of mules being dragged down to the sea as I went in. We walked through the “Camel’s Hump” with Colonel Chauvel and Glasgow, on to No. 1 Outpost, now deserted, with the beautiful trench made by the six millionaires. I wonder what has happened to them all.

Cazalet, of whom I had grown very fond, is dead, Hornby’s missing. I was very sad to hear that Reynell was killed on the night of the 27th, when we left. A fine man in every way. His men worshipped him....

A lot of French transports were leaving Egypt as we left, maybe for Asia. We shall do nothing more here unless we have an overwhelming force. We have never done anything except with a rush. Directly we have touched a spade we have ceased to advance, and have gone on adding bricks to the wall which we first built and then beat our heads against.

This morning we had a service in the valley, which is extraordinarily beautiful. The flies are awful, horrible, lethargic; they stick to one like gum. The men in the trenches are wearing the head-dresses that Egypt has sent. I went with the General in the afternoon to Anzac. We walked back as shelling began. We had one whizz round us, and a man fell beside me on the beach. I heard a tremendous smack, and thought he was dead, and began to drag him in to cover, but he was all right, though a bullet had thumped him.

The flies and their habits deserve to live in a diary of their own. They were horrible in themselves, and made more horrible by our circumstances and their habits. They lived upon the dead, between the trenches, and came bloated from their meal to fasten on the living. One day I killed a fly on my leg that made a splash of blood that half a crown would not have covered.

Diary. Monday, September 27, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. Last night F. dined. He said that the Indians could get back from Mudros if they gave the hospital orderly ten rupees. The hospital orderly would then certify them as having dysentery. Most of them did not want to go back, some did. When they were reluctant about fighting, he thought it was due to the fact that it was Moslems they were against.

This morning the General and I went round Colonel Anthill’s trenches. Billy H. was there, as independent and casual as ever. He came out here as a sergeant and is now Acting Brigade Major. I am giving him a shirt.

Billy H. was not the only member of his family who was independent. His father, a well-known Australian doctor, on one occasion gave one of the chiefs of the British R.A.M.C. his sincere opinion about the treatment of the sick and wounded. After a while the chief of the R.A.M.C. said: “You don’t seem to understand that it is I who am responsible for these things.” “Oh yes, I do,” said the Australian doctor, “but it’s not you I’m getting at; it’s the fool who put you there.”

Diary. Thursday, September 28, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. Last night I dined with S. B. and H. Woods. Walked back through a still, moonlit night, with the sea and the air just breathing. Very bright stars. We sent up flares. The General was ill this morning, so did not go out. The Greek interpreters have been called up for mobilization. This Greek mobilization ought to do some good about the German submarines. Last night at Anzac they had iron needles dropped from aeroplanes. I always objected to this. This morning over our heads there was a Taube firing hard at something with a machine-gun. It produces an unpleasant impression, I suppose because it is unfamiliar, to hear the noise straight above one. Two bombs were dropped—at least, I suppose they were. They fell with a progressive whistle, but not close to us; another big one, however, an 8-inch one, I believe, from the Dardanelles, fell with a tired and sensuous thud just over the ridge.

Wednesday, September 29, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. The General went out at nine this morning, P. and I with him. He went to the Apex and round. In the evening Kettle and I talked in the fort.

Friday, October 1, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. Yesterday morning General Godley, General Birdwood, de Crespigny and I went round the trenches, Apex, Anthill’s, etc., from 9.30 until 3. A very hot day; I wish that Generals were a hungrier, thirstier race. We had some light shelling, into which the Generals walked without winking or reason, though they made us take intervals.

G. L. has gone home. Ross turned up last night; glad to see him again. He said that a statement was to be made almost at once, and that we weren’t going to be here for the winter. He had a notion that the Italians were going to take our place....

This morning there was a very heavy mist; the hills and the sea were curtained in it. My clothes were wringing wet. The Greek interpreters have been called up by the Greek mobilization and have gone to Imbros, some of them to try to avoid going. They have, says Christo, “kria kardia” (cold feet.) Xenophon, in a moment of enthusiasm, changed Turkish for Greek nationality. He now speaks of the days of his Ottoman nationality with a solemn and mournful affection, as of a golden age. He envies his cousin, Pericles, who was not so carried away. Kyriakidis is too old to go, thank goodness.

Going into Anzac with the General, and glad to be quit of the trenches. It’s a weary business walking through these narrow mountain trenches, hearing the perpetual iteration of the same commands. The trenches are curiously personal. Some are so tidy as to be almost red-tape—the names of the streets, notices, etc., everywhere—and others slums. (Later.) I went into Anzac with the General to see General Birdwood, but he had gone out to see the bombardment from the sea. The General went off to the New Zealand hospital ship, Mahino. I went to get P. off, who was ill. The General and I had a very philosophical talk coming back. There was a radiance over Anzac; the sunken timbership shone against the sunset, with the crew half of them naked. Shells screamed over us, and in the Headquarters hollow parts of them came whimpering down.

Saturday, October 2, 1915. No. 2 Outpost. This morning General Godley, Colonel Artillery Johnson and I went round to see the guns, all across the Anafarta plain. Yesterday they had been shelling a good deal and had killed some Gurkhas.... We trudged about in the open, the Turkish hills in a semicircle round us. We kept about fifty yards apart.... I thought it very risky for the General; however, nothing happened. Have been meeting various school acquaintances these days....

Sunday, October 3, 1915. The General and Charlie B. went to Suvla. I lunched with S. B. and H. Woods. We played chess. A good deal of shelling. A fair number hit....

Monday, October 4, 1915. Changed my dugout this morning with an infinity of trouble, I didn’t like doing it; it involved men standing on the roof, and if one of them had been hit I should have felt responsible. However, we did it all right. I stole some corrugated iron, and am well off. This morning the Turks had a fierce demonstration. The bullets kicked up the dust at the mouth of the gully. Colonel Artillery Johnson just missed being hit, but only one man struck. They shelled us with big stuff that came over tired and groaning, bursting with a beastly noise and torrents of smoke. General C. lunched. He said people sent curiously inappropriate stores sometimes. In the middle of the summer they had sent us here mufflers and cardigan jackets, and two thousand swagger canes. These were now at Mudros. Chauvel has taken over command while the General is sick. He borrowed all my novels.

Tuesday, October 5, 1915. General C.O. turned up. He said we are going to attack through Macedonia. Heaven help us! Bulgaria has been given twenty-four hours’ ultimatum by Russia.

Went into Anzac, to go by boat to Suvla. Met C., who was at W—— (my private school). He said there was no boat. I went on and played chess, coming back through one of the most beautiful evenings we have had, the sea a lake of gold and the sky a lake of fire; but C. and I agreed we would not go back to Anzac or to W——, if we could help it.

Wednesday, October 6, 1915. I was going into Suvla with Hastings, but in the morning a Turkish deserter, Ahmed Ali, came in. He promised to show us two machine-guns, which he did (one German, immovable, and the other Turkish, movable), and seven guns which he had collected; this he failed to do, and also to produce three more comrades by firing a Turkish rifle as a signal.

In the afternoon I had a signal from S. B. to say he was leaving, sick, for Egypt. I walked in to see, and found he had gastritis....

Thursday, October 7, 1915. N.Z. and A. H.Q. This morning we went up with Ahmed Ali, and lay waiting for the Turkish deserters until after six. One Turkish rifle shot, a thicker sound than ours, was fired at Kidd’s Post, but no Turks came. Ahmed Ali was distressed. The dawn was fine; clouds of fire all over the sky.

The Turkish deserters and prisoners were put through a number of inquisitions. There was first of all the local officer, who had captured the Turk and was creditably anxious to anticipate the discoveries of the Intelligence. Then there was G.H.Q., intensely jealous of its privileges, and then Divisional H.Q., waiting rather sourly for the final examination of the exhausted Turks.

The Turkish private soldiers, being Moslems, were inspired rather with the theocratic ideals of comradeship than by the esprit de corps of nationality, and spoke freely. They were always well treated, and this probably loosened their tongues, but Ahmed Ali was more voluble than the majority of his comrades, and I append information which he supplied as an illustration of our examinations and their results. The two sides of Turkish character were very difficult to reconcile. On the one hand, we were faced in the trenches by the stubborn and courageous Anatolian peasant, who fought to the last gasp; on the other hand, in our dugouts we had a friendly prisoner, who would overwhelm us with information. “The fact is you are just a bit above our trenches. If only you can get your fire rather lower, you will be right into them, and here exactly is the dugout of our Captain, Riza Kiazim Bey, a poor, good man. You miss him all the time. If you will take the line of that pine-tree, you will get him.”

Diary. Saturday, October 9, 1915. A. and N.Z. H.Q. Ahmed Ali proposed coming to England with me when I went there.... Last night we had bad weather; a sort of whirlwind came down. It whizzed away the iron sheeting over my dugout and poured in a cascade of water, soaking everything. Iron sheeting was flying about like razors; it was not possible to light candles. Finally, Ryrie came and lent me a torch, and I slept, wet but comfortable, under my cloak. Our people and the Turks both got excited, and heavy rifle fire broke out, as loud as the storm. An angry dawn, very windy and rifles crackling.

At this point the diary ends, for the writer was evacuated on the hospital ship, and did not return to Active Service for several months. Of all those who had sailed from Egypt with General Godley on April 12th, the General himself remained the only man who saw the campaign through from the first to the last day, with the rare exception of a few days of sickness.