Chapter II: Part 2

His exploit was somewhat like that of Michael O’Leary of the Irish Guards, except that the latter captured two machine-guns single-handed. He was a lance-corporal when the great chance came to him, and the story of how he won the Cross is told by his own quartermaster-sergeant in the following words:--

“My company was ordered from our trench to keep up a hot rifle and machine-gun fire across the German trenches and points of cover. After the rain of bullets and shrapnel had been kept up for twenty minutes, No. 1 Company was let loose on the left. They came out of the trenches with a yell, bayonets fixed, and went for the enemy at the double. They had from 100 to 150 yards to travel, and they went at a tidy pace, but were easily outstripped by O’Leary. He never looked to see if his mates were coming, and he must have done pretty near even time over that patch of ground.

“When he got near the end of one of the German trenches, he dropped, and so did many others a long way behind him. The enemy had discovered what was up. A machine-gun was O’Leary’s mark. Before the Germans could manage to slew it round, and meet the charging men, O’Leary picked off the whole five of the machine-gun crew.

“Then leaving his mates to capture the gun, he dashed forward to the second barricade which the Germans were quitting in a hurry and shot three men. O’Leary came back as cool as if he had been for a walk in the park, and with two prisoners.” The prisoners were taken because O’Leary’s shot was exhausted!

A soldier or sailor cannot win the V.C. a second time; but if a man who holds the medal does another very brave deed he is given an extra clasp. This distinction was awarded to Captain Martin-Leake of the Royal Army Medical Corps for continuous bravery during the early months of the war.

In our very proper admiration for the fighting men, we are a little apt to overlook the work of that branch of the army to which Captain Martin-Leake belonged; and this is somewhat unjust.

No section of the British forces did better, more skilful, or more heroic work than the Medical Corps. After a fight, parties of stretcher-bearers would be quickly on the scene no matter how great was the danger to themselves. Many of these brave men were struck down while engaged in this work of mercy.

The wounded were tenderly lifted, placed upon stretchers and given first-aid. They were then, without the loss of a moment, taken in motor ambulances from a collecting station to the base hospitals far away from the firing line.

Captain Martin-Leake had won his Cross in the South African War for great bravery shown in tending the wounded under fire; and while engaged in this splendid work he had been wounded no less than three times.

He did the same kind of work in the fighting during the Great War. Over and over again, he went out into the open, careless of shell and rifle fire, to bring in the wounded or render first-aid. Some of the men whom he rescued had been shot in storming the enemy’s trenches, and lay quite near to the parapets; but the brave captain brought several of them back from the very grasp of the foe.

THE CANADIAN SCOTTISH

At times during a battle a body of comrades seem to act together as one man. Their spirit and discipline are so good and they each forget themselves so completely in the effort of the fight that the foe cannot stand before them. When a brave effort of this special kind is made, Crosses are not granted, but the name of the battle is worked on the flag or colours of the regiment.

Never was such a distinction better earned than by the Canadians at Ypres.

In the spring of 1915, the Germans were making desperate efforts to get to Calais, as a step on the road to London. They were so eager to get there that they began to use poison gas against our men and their friends, the French and Belgians.

The Canadians were among the first to feel the effects of that horrible, choking, blinding gas. The use of it gave the Germans an advantage at first; and it seemed likely, for a time, that they would be able to make a way through the British lines. It was the Canadians who stepped into the gap and helped to save Calais. The people of Britain and the Empire can never forget that splendid service.

At another time there was a desperate fight in a wood near Ypres from which the Canadian Scottish drove the Germans one moonlight night. The story, as told by an officer, forms another fine page in the history of the British Army. Here it is:--

“It was just a few minutes before midnight when we got to a hollow which was about 300 yards from the wood. The moon came out now and then, but we could have done without her, for farm buildings were blazing all round. The fire from the Germans in the wood had now ceased, and we had a spell of silence that could be felt.

“Whispered orders were given to fix bayonets and were obeyed in a flash. Our coats, packs, and everything were dropped and we advanced in light order. When we reached a low ridge in full view of the wood, a storm of fire was loosed upon us from the undergrowth skirting the wood. At once the word was given to charge, and on we rushed, cheering, yelling, and shouting, straight for the foe.

“At first they fired too high, and our losses were small. Then some of our men began to drop, and the whole front line seemed to melt away, only to be instantly closed up again. Cheering and yelling, we jumped over the bodies of the wounded and tore on. Of the Germans with the machine-guns not one escaped, but those inside the wood stood up to us in fine style.

“The struggle became a dreadful hand-to-hand conflict; we fought in clumps and batches, and the living struggled over the bodies of the dead and dying. At the height of the conflict, while we were steadily driving the Germans before us, the moon burst out. The clashing bayonets flashed like quicksilver, and faces were lit up as if by limelight.

“Sweeping on, we came upon lines of trenches, which had been hastily made and could not be well defended. All who held out were bayoneted; those who gave in were sent to the rear.”

The officer spoke modestly as all British heroes do; but no words could convey a full idea of the desperate character of the fighting on that moonlight night. The Canadians knew perfectly well what depended upon them in that frantic struggle round about the poor battered town of Ypres; and they nobly performed the duty laid upon them.

Remember that these men were not fighting, directly at least, for the safety of their own homes, which were thousands of miles away in peaceful Canada; nor for their wives and children, mothers, or sweethearts, who had sent them out so bravely from their homes in the western land. They might have stayed at home, and no one would have had any right to call them slackers or shirkers.

But they did not stay at home. The “Old Grey Mother” of them all was in danger--the Britain to whom it was their pride to belong. So they came racing across the seas as quick as steam could bring them; and after some months of training in the Old Country, they went out to fight and win and die.

THE CANADIAN SPIRIT

When the Canadian troops arrived at the Western Front Sir John French wrote of them, “The soldierly bearing and the steadiness with which the men stay in the ranks on a bleak, cold, and snowy day are most remarkable.” Other leaders spoke of their high spirits and love of fun; others again of their cleverness in finding out new ways of doing things, and, later, of tricking the enemy.

The men from overseas soon became comrades with the Britons from the Motherland. “The British Tommy,” wrote a young Canadian, “is splendid. He is alive to his fingertips. He is full of devices to deceive the enemy; he knows all kinds of tricks; he hasn’t a mean streak in him, and he’s a first-class fighting man. He uses his brains. It has been a revelation to me to find him as he really is.”

Briton and Canadian, therefore, were prepared to think the best of each other; and the feeling of brotherliness with which they began their stern work carried them shoulder to shoulder through many a terrible day and yet more terrible night.

The Canadians, after their custom, treated their officers in a free-and-easy manner which seemed at first somewhat strange to the ordinary British soldier. But when the time for duty came there was no difference between Canadian and British discipline. But there was always a standing dispute among Canadian officers and men in the heat of action as to who should go first into the stiffest part of the fight.

At one battle a Canadian captain was leading his men in single file through a dangerous place, when a non-commissioned officer stepped forward and said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but bomb-throwers always go first.” Then he ran on ahead before the officer could speak to order him to go back.

There are numberless stories of Canadian pluck and resource. In one engagement, Lieutenant Campbell, leading a small number of men, made his way into the front trench of the Germans, and passed along for some distance until he was held up by a barricade. They were under very heavy fire, and in a short time only two of the party were left, namely, the lieutenant and Private Vincent.

The two men, however, kept on fighting. They had a machine-gun, but it was useless because they had no tripod to stand it on. So Vincent stooped down and the officer strapped the gun upon his back. It was worked with its human tripod for some time, but at last a German bombing party entered the trench and Campbell was wounded to death. Vincent, however, succeeded in dragging the gun away to a place of safety.

Our men were, naturally enough, very anxious to prevent their guns from falling into the enemy’s hands and being used against themselves. A British gun, lost near Ypres, was afterwards recovered in a surprising manner.

One bright morning a German aeroplane was seen circling gracefully over the headquarters of a British division. Soon the shrapnel was bursting round it; but the airman flew too high to be hit, and he and his pilot seemed to the thousands of watchers to be thoroughly enjoying the risks of their morning flight.

Then a British machine appeared at some distance away, and it was not observed by the German airmen until it was close upon them. The enemy turned to escape but the sound of an aerial machine-gun soon told the watchers that the fight had begun. The German made a spirited reply, until his gun went wrong and his pilot was wounded. Then his machine fell rapidly to the ground and came to earth not far from the Montreal Battalion, while the British machine rose again to avoid the attentions of the German gunners.

The German airman was able to get clear of the wreckage of his machine and creeping to the Canadian trench gave himself up, saying that his pilot was dead. Our men were anxious to capture the machine but the German gunners were equally anxious to pound it to pieces. The Canadians, however, were able to gather the fragments of the wreck, and among them found the machine-gun which had been lost near Ypres some six months before.[3]

[3] The story is fully told, with many others of great
interest, in _Canada in Flanders_, Part II., by Lord
Beaverbrook. (Hodder and Stoughton.)

It was a French-Canadian officer, Major Roy, who performed one of the bravest deeds of the early part of the war in Flanders. A huge shell from a trench-mortar fell into a trench full of men. The gallant major picked it up to hurl it over the parapet, but his foot slipped and the shell exploded as he held it! There was little doubt that with men like these the Canadian spirit would carry the troops of the Dominion very far, as indeed it did, in the months of terror and glory which were to follow.

A young Canadian, Private Smith, was merrily singing a song during a bombing attack by some of his comrades when a mine exploded near him and he was almost completely buried in the falling earth. When he had dug himself out he found that he had lost his rifle and looked about to find some useful work.

He was soon made aware that the supply of bombs was running short, and the idea struck him that he might crawl round among the dead or wounded bomb-throwers and collect the bombs which they had not used.

Without wasting a moment, he moved carefully round on hands and knees and made his collection, hanging the bombs at various points on his own person. The missiles were duly delivered by the smiling “carrier,” to the great delight of his comrades who cheered him on in his very useful but risky work. He made five collections in all and safely delivered his precious burden to the men who were attacking the German trenches. His clothes and cap were riddled with bullets, but he was not hit, because, as he explained, he kept always “on the move.”

At last he could find no more bombs, and his company was forced to fall back before the terrible German fire. One of the bombing party was seen wounded, standing on the parapet of the German front-line trench. He had thrown every bomb he carried, and then weeping with rage at being unable to do more, he flung earth and stones at the enemy until the end came.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE _KENT_

The long and glorious history of the British Navy contains many a story of a fight against great odds. We think with pride of the little _Revenge_ which fought fifty-three Spanish ships, and only gave in when its gallant captain Sir Richard Grenville was wounded to the death. And this story of the time of Queen Elizabeth is only one out of many in the records of our Navy.

Now it was a splendid and glorious thing for Sir Richard Grenville to fight so bravely. But it would have been a foolish and cruel thing if Queen Elizabeth had _ordered_ him to fight single-handed against ten, or even five, Spanish ships.

In much the same way, it would be a splendid thing if two of our ships were to fight half a dozen Germans which had caught them unawares. But it would be very foolish of the rulers of our Navy to allow such a thing to happen if it could be helped. They must make as sure as they can that any group of our ships will not be outnumbered, or meet with an equal number of vessels of a newer type and carrying heavier guns.

Both these things happened off the coast of Chile in South America on November 1, 1914. On that day four German cruisers met three British cruisers and a battle took place. The German ships were of a newer type and carried much heavier guns than the British, so that the latter were “outclassed”; and though the British fought with great bravery against the heavy odds, two ships were lost.

A strong British squadron was at once got together and placed under the command of Admiral Doveton Sturdee. It was sent off in secret, and people at home knew nothing about it until news of victory came.

Turn to the map of South America and find out the group of islands known as the Falklands which lie off the south-east coast. These islands are part of the British Empire and at Port Stanley, the chief town, there is an important wireless station.

A message was sent from London to the governor of the Falklands to the effect that a German squadron was cruising near, and might, at any moment, make a raid upon the islands. The German ships, under Admiral von Spee, did indeed come to the Falklands intending to destroy the wireless station and take possession of the islands. But they found Admiral Sturdee awaiting them, and on December 8th the Battle of the Falklands was fought.

Sturdee in the _Invincible_ gave the signal,--“God save the King.” The firing began shortly after noon at a range of about nine miles. When night had fallen four of the five German ships lay at the bottom of the ocean, and two thousand of the enemy had died in doing their duty. The other enemy warship, the _Dresden_, made her escape. The loss on the British side was only eight men.

In connection with this battle the story of the cruiser _Kent_ is worth preserving, while one of the stokers won the praise and reward of his leaders for a deed of coolness and bravery. The _Kent_ was ordered to chase and engage one of the German cruisers and set out on the trail. But before long she found herself running short of fuel.

This fact was reported to the captain and though it was a very serious matter he was not put out. “Very well then,” he said, “have a go at the boats.” The word was passed along, and some of the men unslung the boats and broke them up with hatchets and crowbars. Then the pieces were thickly smeared with oil and carried below to the stokers whose stock of coal was now almost at an end. Soon the ship’s boats were blazing in the furnaces and the _Kent_ raced along.

But this was not enough. Still more fuel was needed, and officers and men cast their eyes around in search of something more that would burn. Some one pointed to the wooden ladders; and in a few moments they had been taken down and sent below to the stokers.

Other men wrenched off the doors of cabins and ward-rooms. Young officers ran laughing to their cabins, and brought out chairs, tables, chests of drawers, and other pieces of furniture. These were quickly passed below. The stokers worked with a will and by and by a hearty cheer told them that the German was being overhauled.

Then the guns began to speak and after a brisk exchange the enemy cruiser was seen to be on fire and about to sink. She hauled down her colours, whereupon the _Kent_ ceased firing and closed in to save life if possible. But the German ship heeled over and went down like a stone, only twelve men being rescued by the British.

While these exciting things were happening Sergeant Mayes showed coolness and bravery which saved the lives of many of his comrades and probably saved his ship. A shell burst and set fire to some powder charges in the bomb-proof shelter. A flash of flame went down the hoist into the passage leading to the place where the shells were kept. Sergeant Mayes picked up a charge of powder and threw it into the sea.

He then got hold of a fire-hose and flooded the shelter, in this way putting out the fire in some empty shell bags which were burning. These things were done in a few seconds, but they were indeed fateful moments; for the firing of the magazine was the cause of the loss of more than one gallant vessel during the Great War.

THE LANCASHIRE LANDING

Again and again in our fighting history, a regiment acting as one man has performed a “deed of signal valour and devotion in the presence of the enemy,” such as is required for the winning of the Victoria Cross. There is, however, as we have seen, no V.C. for a regiment; but in one case at least during the Great War a regiment selected by vote the names of those men among them who were thought most worthy to wear the Victoria Cross.

The First Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers landed on Beach W in the Gallipoli Peninsula on April 25th, 1915--a day to be marked and remembered by all lovers of heroic deeds. And having won immortal glory by their valour they--or the survivors from among them--selected for the V.C. three of their number, namely Private Keneally, Sergeant Richards, and Captain Willis. The story of the landing, however, concerns the whole regiment.

Beach W was in a bay enclosed by hills through which a narrow gully running down to the sea opened out a break in the cliffs. The Turks had expected a landing on this beach, and had made every possible preparation to repel the invaders. There were mines in the sea and mines on the land. At the edge of the water there was a thick fence of barbed wire.

There were trenches and gun positions on the slopes overlooking the beach; and the guns were so cleverly hidden that the gunners on our warships, even when helped by the airmen, could not find them out. Behind each heap of sand and each tuft of brushwood a Turkish sniper was concealed.

“So strong, in fact,” wrote the British general, Sir Ian Hamilton, “were the defences of Beach W that the Turks may well have thought them impregnable. And it is my firm conviction that no finer feat of arms has ever been achieved by the British soldier--or any other soldier--than the storming of those trenches from open boats on the morning of April 25.”

Very early in the morning, the Lancashires under Major Bishop were embarked in boats from the cruiser which had brought them to the scene of action. As soon as they were ready, the British battleships began a terrific bombardment of the Turkish positions. This lasted for an hour, and at six o’clock eight lines of four cutters, each drawn by a small steamboat, made for the beach. When shallow water was reached, the steamboats cast off and the cutters were rowed towards the shore. Meanwhile, the enemy had made no sign.

But as the first boat grounded upon the beach, a furious fire was opened upon it from rifles, machine-guns, and pom-poms. Of the first line of fearless men who advanced upon the barbed-wire hedge along the shore nearly all were swept away. There was a pause, and the watchers on the ships asked each other, “Why are our men resting?” not knowing that most of the brave fellows had found the last great rest of all.

But the pause was only for a few moments. In a very short time the Lancashires were hacking doggedly at the bristling hedge of wire. Meanwhile, others of their comrades had been able to land on some rocks at the end of the bay; and a few had already found out some of the Turkish machine-gun positions and had accounted for the men who held them. Others had got round the ends of the wire hedge and were now steadily replying to the enemy’s fire.

But the struggle on the open beach was still going on. Captain Willis and a few men were able, after desperate efforts, to break a way through the wire and then ran forward to take cover behind a sandbank. When the men looked at their rifles they found the barrels and locks clogged with sand; but they coolly set to work to clean them, while the bullets whistled and sang around them. At last the rifles were ready for use and they did good service while other men of the Lancashires were engaged in landing on the beach.

The newcomers worked their way through or round the ends of the barbed-wire fence, and Captain Willis then led the charge upon the enemy’s trenches. The Turks fought with great gallantry, but the Lancashires drove them from their first line and gradually worked up to higher and higher positions.

All this was done in the face of a withering fire from the Turkish machine-guns and pom-poms; and the enemy also exploded several land mines without checking the steady advance of our brave fellows. Just before ten o’clock that morning more men were landed, and by this time no less than three lines of enemy trenches were in British hands above Beach W.

Sir Ian Hamilton afterwards wrote: “It was to the complete lack of the sense of danger or of fear in this daring battalion that we owed our astonishing success in this quarter.”

But no words can convey in the least degree the fierceness of the struggle which took place that morning, or the dogged character of the effort of the Lancashires to gain a footing on the beach. During the Great War men rose to such a height of heroism that deeds of wonderful daring became matters of daily routine. One unhappy result of this was that people at home took brave deeds for granted, and forgot to do honour to those who had done such great things for their country.

COMMANDER UNWIN AND THE TWO MIDSHIPMEN

On Beach V of the Gallipoli Peninsula another method of landing men was used. A collier named the _River Clyde_ was filled with soldiers and run ashore, after a landing had been tried in the ordinary way and had failed. Wide openings had been made in the sides of the vessel from which gangways were slung on ropes to give the men passage either to the shallow water or to flat boats known as lighters which were to form a kind of bridge to the beach. The _River Clyde_ was in charge of Commander Edward Unwin.

The first landing from small boats upon this beach had been a disastrous affair. The men were shot down as they landed, and very soon the beach was strewn with dead and dying. Many were killed or wounded before they could leave the boats and the fire was so severe that one boat with all its men was blown to pieces. A few of the men who waded ashore were entangled in the barbed wire and were shot down as they struggled to get loose. Not a single boat returned to the ships.

One seaman named Lewis Jacobs of the _Lord Nelson_ showed the utmost bravery in this dread hour. Every other man in his boat had been killed or wounded, but he pulled steadily for the beach and then took out the pole to guide the boat to a suitable landing place. He was last seen standing among the dead and dying, going steadily on with his work, carrying out an invasion on his own account. Then he fell to rise no more.

Meanwhile, the _River Clyde_ had been run upon the beach not far from some rocks, and as soon as she came to a stop a terrific fire was directed upon her from the Turkish trenches.

The vessel had grounded in water too deep to allow the men to wade ashore. A bridge was therefore formed with two lighters, but before long it was broken by the strong tide which swung one of the boats out of position.

Several bluejackets faced the heavy fire and went ashore to get the boats into a suitable position. One of them named Charles Williams was in the water for an hour engaged in this difficult task and was then shot down. He was awarded the Victoria Cross after his heroic death.

A number of the Munster Fusiliers now left one of the openings in the side of the vessel, ran quickly down the sloping gangway, and jumped into the first lighter. They could not jump across the space between the two lighters, so some of them leapt into the water.

Many were instantly shot down. A few reached the shore. Others scrambled upon the second lighter which had now been swirled by the current into a still more unfavourable position.

Matters were becoming truly desperate when Commander Unwin leapt into the water, which took him up to the waist, and set to work with a few others to try to make the bridge more useful. Among the little party were two midshipmen named Drewry and Malleson who stuck to their desperate task with a cool bravery beyond all praise.

After working hard for some time, Commander Unwin began to feel the effects of the cold water and was forced to go back to the shelter of the ship. The doctors attended to him, wrapping him in hot flannels, giving him hot drinks and rubbing his limbs to restore the circulation. As soon as he was somewhat recovered, he returned to his work, and was helped again by the two midshipmen who showed a cheery disregard for shot and shell.

Midshipman Drewry was wounded in the head, but, in spite of this, he went on with his work. He made two attempts to swim from one lighter to the other in order to carry a line across the gap, but he was not able to carry out his plan, to his great disappointment. Then Malleson took the line in hand, and swam with it to the second lighter.

This was a piece of very useful work, for a fresh lot of men were now able to reach the beach. Meanwhile, the fire from the Turkish guns was becoming hotter and hotter, but it was now met by a terrific bombardment from the guns of the British warships, including the _Queen Elizabeth_.

More men and still more men came out from the _River Clyde_ and ran down the gangway to the lighters. After a short time the current once more swung the second lighter aside and the line broke. Malleson swam across with the rope, but was not successful in joining up the two lighters. Again he tried, and again he failed.

Meanwhile Commander Unwin had been for a second time through the doctors’ hands in order to have his bullet wounds attended to. When this had been done he came up on deck and saw that a number of men who were still alive were lying helpless half in and half out of the water. He ordered out a lifeboat and set out to try to save them. A few of the men were picked up before the brave commander was obliged to give up his work. He was now almost fainting from weariness and was forced to go below again to be attended by the doctors.

The Turks now concentrated their fire upon the bridge to the shore and any man appearing upon it was at once shot down. Our men were therefore ordered to remain under cover, and they spent the rest of the day listening to the pattering of the leaden hail upon the steel sides of the ship. When darkness had fallen, the troops were able to disembark and found some shelter on the beach as well as in the ruined houses of a village not far away.

ANZAC

This word is worthy of careful examination. It means rather more than most words do, and it is one of the most honourable names in the British Empire.

The word is made up of the initial letters of the following words, all except one which does not greatly matter: Australian (and) New Zealand Army Corps. The name Anzac was given to that part of the coast of the Peninsula of Gallipoli on which the Australians and New Zealanders landed on the same day as the Lancashires made their landing farther to the south. And in time the name Anzacs was given to the Australians and New Zealanders alike. It was a convenient short term for them.

They were a merry lot of men. “We are having an iron time,” one of them wrote home, “we live in an iron ship, sleep on an iron floor, have nothing to eat but iron rations, and now, to crown all, I hear we are commanded by a fellow called ‘Iron’ Hamilton.”

The various operations of April 25, 1915, are known as the Battle of the Landing, and the attack delivered by the Anzacs was by far the greatest of all. The force numbered some 12,000 men and the place chosen for the landing was one of the most difficult on that rocky coast. The assault is one of the most heroic in the records of the British Army. A single body of men seemed to act as one, and won everlasting fame not only for themselves but for the nations to which they belonged.

The landing was to be made with the help of a squadron consisting of five battleships, one cruiser, eight destroyers, a seaplane carrier, a balloon ship and fifteen trawlers carrying supplies as well as a number of transports. Some of the men were carried on the battleships, and to these was given the honour of making the first landing.

The ships left their base on the afternoon of the 24th and steamed all night with lights out. At one o’clock they were all collected about five miles from the place where the landing was to be made. It was a bright moonlight night, which was rather unfortunate, for it gave the sentries on the slopes above the bay a warning which they were not slow to act upon.

At one o’clock the men on the battleships were silently roused and were served with a hot meal. They were very quiet and steady but cheery, and quite confident that they could give a good account of themselves in the coming fight. It was, indeed, a severe trial of strength, skill, and nerve power which lay before these brave colonials. They were not like the Germans or even the British regulars who had been trained for fighting over a long period. Yet these men from the farms and pastures as well as from the towns of the Southern Land had been selected for the post of honour on that great day.

As soon as the meal was finished, orders were given to lower the boats. These included not only the cutters but also the steam picket boats which were to tow them to the beach. In a very short time the men had embarked to the number of 1500 and the boats were towed towards the shore. The battleships were cleared for action and steamed closer in.

It was a few minutes before five o’clock when the first boats drew near to the shore above which towered a lofty cliff with a winding pathway leading from the beach to its right flank. At that moment a light was seen on shore which proved to be a signal, for a few minutes later a rifle volley rang out followed by the sound of a machine-gun, and a number of men in the leading boats fell dead or wounded. The landing of the Anzacs was to be disputed.

This reception was exactly what the men needed to nerve them to their attack. A body of Turkish soldiers was seen advancing to meet them. Without waiting for the word of command they sprang from the boats into the shallow water, and ran to meet the foe. “Their magazines were not even charged,” we read, “so they just went in with cold steel, and I believe I am right in saying that the first Ottoman Turk since the Last Crusade received an Anglo-Saxon bayonet in him at five minutes after five a.m. on April 25. It was over in a minute. The Turks in the first trench were bayoneted or ran away and a Maxim gun was captured. Then the Australians found themselves facing an almost perpendicular cliff of loose sandstone.”[4]

[4] From _Despatches from the Dardanelles_, by Mr.
Ashmead-Bartlett (Newnes), with acknowledgments.

Half-way up the face of this cliff was a second trench, from which a steady fire was now pouring from rifle and machine-gun. The face of the precipice was dotted with short bushes and behind each of these pieces of scrub a marksman was concealed. The fire from the enemy was directed not only upon those men who had already landed but also upon those who were now being brought from the transports.

The men at the foot of the cliff threw their packs to the ground, charged their rifles and set out on their desperate climb. In about fifteen minutes they were in possession of the second line of trenches and the Turks were on the run, or rather on the climb, to the top of the lofty cliff. The men were so full of eagerness that some of them pressed too far and were cut off from the main attack.

Meanwhile the battleships were bombarding the Turkish positions and were receiving such a heavy fire in return that the landing was greatly checked. The beach was very narrow and soon became crowded to such an extent that the men got in each other’s way and there were more casualties than there would have been in more open country. But there was no quenching the spirit of the men. One eager Australian fell over a cliff 100 feet high and was picked up little the worse for his fall. A man from New Zealand was seen going down a deep hollow and was warned that there would probably be a mine at the bottom. He laughed and called out, “Then you can catch me as I come up.”

A dressing station protected by sand-bags had been set up on the beach, and when the wounded had been given first-aid they were quickly conveyed to the ships. The men showed wonderful courage and cheerfulness. “I saw some lighters full of bad cases,” wrote one who was there, “as they passed the battleships. Some of those on board recognised our vessel as the ship they had left that morning; whereupon, in spite of their sufferings and discomforts, they set up a cheer which was answered by a deepening shout of encouragement from our crew.”

By the afternoon of that great day the Anzacs found themselves in a strong position above the beach for which they had won immortal fame. Their first task was accomplished. They had invaded Gallipoli, and had fixed themselves ready for the next stage in the stern work, which was not long delayed; for the Turks soon attacked in force, but were unable to move the Anzacs from their position.

SUBMARINES IN THE DARDANELLES

We heard so much during the war about German submarines that many people forgot that we had under-water craft of our own. If the German fleet had come out from the harbours of Kiel and Wilhelmshaven they would have learnt a little about the number and efficiency of the British submarines, as well as about the chivalry of their commanders.

The British submarines had a better chance to show what they could do at the Dardanelles; and some of the bravest deeds of the naval warfare were done in this quarter. Take a large map of Europe and find out the Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmora and Constantinople; and remember that at the time we are now considering a British fleet was lying off the entrance to the straits known as the Dardanelles.

Remember, also, that the strait was strongly guarded on either side by a number of Turkish forts, while mines were laid in the water all around. The distance from the entrance of the Dardanelles to Constantinople is about 230 miles.

One day the British submarine E11, under Lieutenant-Commander Nasmith, set out on a voyage to Constantinople, where there were several Turkish troopships carrying men who were to be sent to fight us in the Gallipoli Peninsula. This little boat had to pass under or round the mine-fields; to dodge the Turkish destroyers; to avoid being detected by the guns of the shore batteries; and to be prepared to spend long hours under water.

All these things were done, and a great deal more, so much, indeed, that it is difficult to believe that one little boat could do so much. It was the means of destroying a Turkish gunboat, two troopships, one powder-ship, and three storeships, while it drove another storeship ashore. Then the plucky little E11 set out for home and passed safely through the most difficult part of the return journey. But even yet its daring work was not completed; for it returned to torpedo another Turkish troopship! The brave and resourceful commander well deserved the Victoria Cross which was granted to him by King George.

The British submarine B11 had an even more adventurous journey in the same quarter. In the month of December of the first year of the war the British fleet was waiting for a fitting time to bombard the forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles; and in order to pass the time of waiting Lieutenant-Commander Norman D. Holbrook set out on a voyage of adventure.

There was a large mine-field at the entrance to the Straits consisting of several rows of mines. The B11 dived under these mines and came safely within the straits. Then a torpedo was fired at a Turkish battleship named the _Messudiyeh_, and in a very short time the vessel heeled over and then settled slowly down. Meanwhile the periscope was sighted from the batteries on the shore as well as by the torpedo boats which were patrolling the Straits, and in a very short time the shells were hissing around it. But it dodged them cleverly, and after sighting the battleship so as to make quite sure that it was really sinking, the B11 set out on the return journey.

It was now so much harried by the Turkish guns from various quarters, that it was forced to keep under water as much as possible. At one part of its journey it was submerged for no less than nine and a half hours. Then the compass got out of order, and the boat was driven about in the strong undercurrents of the Straits. Sometimes the men could feel it grating upon the bottom; then it would be suddenly carried near the surface and every man held his breath while he waited for a mine to go off. But passing through all the dangers, the little craft at last reached “home” in safety, to be given a warm reception by men and officers of the Allied fleets. Lieutenant Holbrook was awarded the V.C. for this daring deed, while every other man in the submarine was given a medal. On the following day the B9 tried to rival the exploit, but was soon detected and was forced to come back.

In one of the actions against the Turks the _Inflexible_ was hit in the foremast by a shell. Several of the men in the control station at the top of this steel tripod mast were badly wounded by the explosion; and those on the deck began to make preparations for bringing the men who had been hurt down from the control.

As they looked upward, they saw to their astonishment that one of the wounded men was already tackling the problem. He had taken on his shoulders one of his comrades who was more hurt than himself and was carrying him down the steel ladder attached to one of the legs of the tripod.

After him came another carrying a second wounded man in a similar manner, and after a painful and perilous descent both the carriers reached the deck in safety. It must not be forgotten that the rungs of the ladder were coated with greasy soot from the smoke of the funnels; and they were therefore by no means secure resting places for the feet of wounded men so heavily burdened as these brave rescuers were.

WARNEFORD AND THE ZEPPELIN

One Sunday night in the early part of June 1915, a Zeppelin airship paid a visit to the East Coast of England. It sailed over a wide area and bombs were dropped in various places. As a result of this visit several people were killed and a number were badly hurt.

About twenty-four hours later, a Zeppelin was sighted on the coast of Belgium by two airmen, one British and the other French. The airship was chased and the British aviator came up with it between Ghent and Brussels.

He dropped bombs upon it which caused the gas in the envelope to explode. The airship was set on fire and fell to the ground and its crew of about twenty-eight men were killed. It is most probable that this was the airship which had just paid a visit to England.

The British airman who did this splendid piece of work was Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford of the Royal Naval Air Service and he was only twenty-four at the time. His machine was a monoplane, and very small compared with a Zeppelin, as can be seen in the picture.

The splendid deed was performed at a height of about 6000 feet above ground. The Zeppelin was flying lower than usual as it was nearing its hangar or shed. This gave Warneford his chance to get above it, and after that his work was a matter of careful aim. It really took only one bomb to fire the envelope, and then there was no hope for the Zeppelin.

The gas in the envelope exploded with such force that it made Warneford’s machine turn completely over.

This somersault in the air emptied one of the petrol tanks; and the airman, righting his machine, saw that he must go down to fill it from the supply kept in another part of the machine. Meanwhile, the bullets from German rifles were flying all round him. He was, of course, in enemy country and near the town of Amandsberg.

In the open country outside of the town he saw a piece of waste land which seemed to be lonely and deserted. Down he planed to this spot and set to work at breathless speed to fill his tank while the Germans were racing to the place to try to capture or kill him.

At last all was ready and he took his seat in the machine. It rose into the air just as a number of Germans came in sight and began to fire at it. But no shot took effect, and the plucky airman made his way in safety to the French lines.

There were many people watching this famous fight in the air, which took place over the town about four o’clock in the morning. Here is the story of the fight as told by one of these spectators:

“The airship was flying over Amandsberg and attempting to escape the two airmen by descending. A great number of civilians watched the fight.

“Obviously, the Zeppelin had already had a skirmish with its pursuers, as it was slightly listing to the left side. Shots were exchanged with the two airmen, one of whom was daring enough to approach close to the airship in an attempt to fly over it.

“After a sudden bold swoop this airman was seen to drop some explosives on the Zeppelin which was at once wrapped in flames. The balloon covering was now fiercely burning, and after some minor reports and one big explosion, the airship dropped upon the convent school of Amandsberg. The nuns tried to bring the children to a place of safety, and two sisters who had rushed into the street with little ones in their arms were badly hurt.

“The Zeppelin crew were all killed and only the framework of the great airship remained. The streets of the town were at once closed, and the people were ordered indoors. The British airman finally disappeared in a north-easterly direction.”

Not long afterwards Warneford was killed while flying near Paris in an aeroplane of a new type which was being tested. It was a sad ending to what promised to be a useful career, but the fame of the young airman V.C. was already made; and boys who love adventure will always be proud to read the story of the first Briton who was able, single-handed, to bring down a Zeppelin.

SMITH AND FORSHAW: TWO HEROES OF GALLIPOLI

Second-Lieutenant Smith of the East Lancashire Regiment was engaged in the fighting against the Turks in Gallipoli. He was in the act of throwing a grenade when it slipped from his hand and fell to the bottom of the trench. At the moment there were several officers and men quite near to him.

Smith shouted out a warning and gave a jump which landed him clear of danger. Then he saw that the other men would not be able to get into cover. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, he jumped back into the trench and flung himself upon the grenade. He was at once killed by the explosion, but the rest of the men were uninjured.

“Possibly,” wrote Smith’s commander to the young man’s father, “he thought he could extinguish it; more likely he gave up his own life to save others from death and injury. Whatever his thoughts may have been, his act was one of bravery such as I, personally, have never heard surpassed.

“There was only one result possible. I am afraid no decoration can make up for the loss of your only son, but the explanation must make you the proudest man in England, when every one reads the story and couples the memory of his name with that old and honoured phrase ‘A soldier and a gentleman.’”

Lieutenant Forshaw hailed from the same part of England as the brave young officer of whom we have just read. He belonged to the Manchester Territorials, and he won the Cross in trench fighting against the Turks. His station was at an important corner which was to be held at all costs; and in holding it Forshaw showed what is perhaps a higher form of courage than impulse--that of stern unflinching endurance.

By his spirit and example he encouraged his men to hold their own against repeated and savage attacks of the enemy. He set them an example of heroism by his cool disregard for danger. At the end of 24 hours’ continuous fighting his men were relieved; but he offered to go on directing operations, and his offer was accepted.

For another 17 hours he repeatedly threw bombs at the enemy, lighting the fuses with a cigarette. He was choked by acid fumes, bruised by fragments of shell, and scarcely able to lift his arm for weariness, but he “stuck it” until the position was safe.

“It was due to his personal example, magnificent courage and endurance,” said his superiors, “that this very important corner was held.” When a brave man is in a tight place of any kind he will do well to remember “Forshaw’s corner.”

THE STORY OF EDITH CAVELL

There is a lofty, snow-clad peak in the Canadian Rockies which is known by the name of Mount Edith Cavell. It was named in the year 1915 to enshrine the memory of a noble woman who laid down her life for the love of humanity. She was an English patriot, but, as we shall see as we go on with her story, she was much more than that.

Edith Cavell was a hospital nurse who was trained in London and went to Belgium in 1900 to take charge of a training school for nurses in a suburb of Brussels. She threw herself into her work with great devotion and in a few years made it a real success. Then the war began and the Germans marched into Brussels as victors; but Miss Cavell was allowed to stay at her hospital.

The Germans seemed to know that she might be useful even to their own men; and they were not mistaken. The course of events brought many German wounded to Brussels and these men received the same care as the Belgian wounded. All hurt or sick men were the same to Edith Cavell, and her one aim was to get them well again.

After the retreat from Mons and from Namur, a number of French and English soldiers were cut off from the main army and were left behind in Belgium. These men hid themselves in the woods or in the ruins of shattered towns, watching for an opportunity to escape either into France or Holland. Some of them were captured by the Germans, and many were shot at once without any form of trial. Others were taken care of by the country people and many stories could be told, and probably will be told in the future, of the adventures of these refugees in their own land.

There were many Belgians, too, who had been left behind after the earlier battles of the war, and these poor fugitives in their native land had the same experiences. Some were taken and instantly shot; others were dressed in civilian clothing and given work on the land, and when the chance came were helped across the frontier into Holland. Many were shot by the German guards as they made their last dash for freedom across the barbed-wire fence which marked off Holland from Belgium.