Gallipoli (76 page)

For Johnston down below, Malone's judgement is proved correct, but it is Brigade-Major Temperley who convinces him of the need to halt, as all who venture above the small bump of the Apex are immediately cut down by ‘a storm of rifle and machine-gun fire from the crest'.
¹⁴
Citing the suicidal nature of trying to advance, Temperley dashes off a message to Divisional Headquarters detailing their position and saying that
in view of the fact that we are absolutely unsupported on our right or left and can see no sign of movement of any troops we deemed it prudent to remain here and await a further advance
.
¹⁵
Brigadier-General Johnston approves the message and it is taken back by a runner.

The New Zealanders keep firing, with one of the thousands of bullets sent towards the summit being of particular significance …

Atop Chunuk Bair just after 9 am, Colonel Kannengiesser is starting to feel a little more in control. Reinforcements are arriving every minute, and their hold on the peak looks to be assured. Hunkered behind the crest of the ridge, he momentarily stands up to direct the amassing Turkish soldiers into better positions, when, just like the line in Rudyard Kipling's poem ‘Gunga Din', ‘a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean'.

The German officer feels as if a jam-tin bomb has gone off in his heart, as a searing pain moves out from his centre and paralyses every limb. His legs are ripped out from underneath him as he reels backward and goes down hard.

The Turkish officers surrounding him look down at their stricken commander, mouths agape. In moments, Kannengiesser is scooped up by the tender yet strong hands of the stretcher-bearers and taken away to be looked after by the medics.

Alas for the New Zealanders, it does not affect the course of the battle. The Turks are attuned to the loss of troopers and officers alike, and the senior men at the command post act quickly, directing men down an ever-widening front as they stretch out along the main ridgeline of the range. They are the kings of the castle, and for the moment the New Zealanders are pinned down, only able to advance on the high ground with extreme difficulty and great loss.

Still, their fighting spirit is in marked contrast to what is happening at Suvla Bay.

For do the British even truly want to get off the beach?

To Private William Tope of the 12th Battalion, perched in one of the highest positions on the Anzacs' left flank and watching the beach at Suvla Bay through his telescope since dawn, it doesn't really seem so, despite the fact they now have 20,000 soldiers landed. Not only are they clearly not threatening any of the higher ground that surrounds Suvla Bay – even though they must surely know that Turkish reinforcements are on their way – but, as Tope keeps watching, stupefied, they form up on the beach, as he would recount, ‘just as if they were on a parade ground in some English town. While they were there, there was shrapnel bursting over the top of them and, do you know, they wouldn't move … these little Englishmen were just standing there.'
¹⁶

What is needed, of course, is strong leadership urging the men forward, but the man in charge of the whole exercise, Lieutenant-General Stopford, is well offshore aboard the HQ yacht
Jonquil
at this time, just waking up from his sleep on deck. It had been an uncomfortably hot night, and he found he slept better there.

As the morning wears on, it seems like the only thing keeping pace with the Turks blazing away at the Brits below is the sun blazing down on them all. It is going to be a long, hot day – all in a place where the water supply is dismal.

MID-MORNING, 7 AUGUST 1915, ANZAC COVE, COUNTING THE COST OF THE CARNAGE

And now, as water flows down a gully, and a rock falls down a hill, so too do the battles on high inevitably bring a bleeding stream of shockingly wounded men roughly tumbling down the slopes to the beach. There are men missing arms and jaws. Men with their hands over their abdomens trying to hold their intestines in place, as their very lives slip through their bloody fingers. Men with that glazed, haunted look of those who have realised that they really are … about … to … die.

Both Chipper brothers, Ross and Lindsay – who had been drinking whisky with the Throssell brothers just hours before – have already been shot dead. All around them in no-man's-land are dozens,
hundreds
of other dead, while there are also dozens of severely wounded men lying in the hot sun, including Ric Throssell, who has a bullet through the lungs and is coughing thick globs of bubbly blood. Not far away from Ric, but not daring to try to get to him, is his brother, Hugo, who is essentially untouched but equally forced to lie still. The one slim chance any of them have of surviving is to crawl back after nightfall, as any movement now will see a blizzard of bullets raking their tortured bodies.

‘The summit of the Nek could be seen crowded with … bodies …' Charles Bean would record. ‘At first here and there a man raised his arm to the sky, or tried to drink from his water-bottle. But as the sun of that burning day climbed higher, such movement ceased. Over the whole summit the figures lay still in the quivering heat.'
¹⁷

A very few, who are near the parapet, are rescued by men throwing out grappling irons and dragging them in. One of these, Trooper Paul ‘Ginty' McGinness of the 8th Light Horse Regiment, has an extraordinary if superficial wound, as a bullet had hit his ammunition belt and then ploughed across his skin from hip to hip.

Many die in the course of the morning. And for what? Certainly not for the achievement of the original objective – which was to act as a diversion, and draw troops away from Chunuk Bair and Hill 971, which are still held by the Turks. In fact, Turkish reserves are still streaming up to the peaks. A Turkish Commander has quickly and smoothly taken the wounded Kannengiesser's place, and though there is much confusion as men from disparate divisions become mixed up, he keeps it together and has enough soldiers to hold their line.

In fact, for those trying to take Chunuk Bair, the situation is so grim that the brooding discord between the New Zealand officers – particularly between Lieutenant-Colonel Malone and Brigade-Major Temperley – is beginning to flare. Despite the message sent to Division Headquarters that they are best to hold off on an attack until night-time, Godley, completely out of touch with the field conditions, had responded at 9.30 am over the field telephone with something close to the highest order of insanity: ‘Attack at once.'
¹⁸

Obeying the order, now an officer lets out a cry: ‘Come along lads!'
¹⁹
The dutiful military men begin their advance into the withering fire from on high. The sounds of rifles rollick down the hill, bringing tidings of death.

The Aucklanders lose ‘200 men in twenty minutes'.
²⁰

Johnston, ‘watching from below, had seen platoon after platoon of Auckland fall as it passed The Apex'.
²¹
One chap would recall that Johnston ‘stood on the crest of Rhododendron Ridge cheering his men on. [He] had to be removed by force.'
²²
And still he orders that the advance must continue.

Malone is outraged. This is just the kind of wanton recklessness with men's lives he has come to most detest: innocent men served a veritable death sentence at the utterance of a fool and …

And here comes Brigadier-General Johnston now, to
order
Malone to send them over the top of the Apex, to follow up the disastrous attempt by the Aucklanders.

No.

Malone refuses. ‘Stop where you are!' Malone yells to his soldiers, before turning to Johnston.
²³
‘My men are not going over in daylight, but they'll go over at night time and they'll take that hill.'
²⁴

Brigadier-General Johnston is stunned. He opens his mouth to speak, but, before he can, Malone ensures that his own decision carries the day, by turning to his loyal men and saying, ‘Wellington Battalion come away from the ridge.'
²⁵

In an instant – the time it takes to understand that their salvation from all but certain death has come from their beloved Colonel – his men retreat back down the slope. Now turning back to Johnston, Malone barks, ‘I will take the risk and any punishment. These men are not going over until I order them to go. I'm
not
going to send them over to commit suicide.'
²⁶

This is war. Yes, Johnston has superior rank, but Malone is the true leader. Finally the Brigadier-General gives in to reality. He concedes they have no chance of taking Chunuk Bair in daylight and sends word back to Godley at Number Two Outpost.

General Godley, receiving the news, also concedes that there is ‘no hope of the [Right Assault Column] being able to reach the crest of the range in full daylight'.
²⁷

They will attack tomorrow at dawn.

DUSK, 7 AUGUST 1915, SOMEWHERE BELOW HILL 971, THE IMPOSSIBLE MUST BE POSSIBLE

As the sun fades, bringing welcome relief to the parched soldiers of Monash's 4th Brigade – who have spent the day digging with their bayonets to gain shelter from Turkish fire – a supply of picks and shovels belatedly arrives at their frontline. The senior officers have not yet realised their error in defining their locality, and so the task of entrenching this point is actively renewed as the light begins to fade.

That afternoon, Monash has received orders that, like the New Zealanders over at Chunuk Bair, their advance is to be resumed at dawn, and Hill 971 is to be taken at daybreak.

Monash is … hesitant. His men are weary, he argues, his forces insufficient.

Unfortunately, his warning is not heeded, and now an officer passes Monash two messages from Godley down at Outpost Two: ‘The G.O.C. wishes you to close the troops … well up the slopes towards the enemy during the preliminary bombardment of the position, so as to be ready to reach the crest as soon as the gun-fire stops to-morrow morning. The assault should be carried out with loud cheering.'
²⁸

Godley adds in his second message, ‘I feel confident that, after to-day's rest, and starting comparatively fresh, your brigade will make a determined effort to capture the key of the positions …'
²⁹

Great that Godley is confident, because Monash certainly isn't. Still, ever resilient, he begins to formulate a plan.

They are to move out at 3 am.

PRE-DAWN, 8 AUGUST 1915, FROM DOWN UNDER TO UP ON CHUNUK BAIR

It has been a bitter battle, and it has been going for nigh on 24 hours, but now the remaining men of the New Zealand Infantry Brigade under Brigadier-General Johnston must pull out all stops. The previous day's slaughter above the Apex must be put behind them. As one man had recited to himself to help him try to get through the day, ‘bullets now or shrapnel later … bullets now or shrapnel later … bullets now or shrapnel later …'
³⁰
They have no choice but to get on with the job.

With so many men dead and injured, Godley has ordered two battalions of the New Army to reinforce the troops on the Apex. Also joining them, as reserves, are the Auckland Mounted Rifles and the Maori contingent, who have just arrived from the Table Top.

Colonel William Malone, true to his solemn words the day before, is preparing to lead his Wellingtons in one last assault for the summit. Resolute, but still doubtful that he will survive it, at 3 am he wakes his batman to pass on his wife's address in the luscious farmlands of Taranaki, in case of his death. Ashen-faced, Malone shakes his comrade's hand before saying, ‘Good-bye.'
³¹

His men form up for the attack, and pass through the Aucklanders, who are holding the line at the Pinnacle, before beginning the climb to Chunuk Bair. Quickly now, carefully, the Wellingtons pick their way over the corpses of the day before and push towards a summit, and …