Five Months at Anzac by Joseph Lievesley Beeston

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The 2nd Field Ambulance was to take our position on the beach. We
packed up our panniers and prepared to leave the spot where we had
done so much work during the last three months, and where we had been
the unwilling recipients of so much attention from Beachy Bill and his
friend Windy Annie. Our donkeys carried the panniers, and each man
took his own wardrobe. Even in a place like this one collects rubbish,
just as at home, and one had to choose just what he required to take
away; in some cases this was very little, for each had to be his own
beast of burden. Still, with our needs reduced to the minimum, we
looked rather like walking Christmas-trees. The distance to Rest Gully
was about a mile and a half, through saps and over very rough
cobble-stones, and our household goods and chattels became heavy
indeed before we halted; I know mine did.

THE ATTEMPT ON SARI BAIR

Our Ambulance was attached to the Left Assaulting Column, which
consisted of the 29th Indian Brigade, 4th Australian Infantry Brigade,
Mountain Battery and one company of New Zealand Engineers under
Brigadier-General Cox.

The commanding officers of all the ambulances in General Godley's
Division met in the gully and had the operation orders explained to
them by the A.D.M.S. of the Division, Colonel Manders, a very capable
officer. To my great regret he was killed two days later; we had been
acquainted for some time, and I had a great regard for him.

The 4th Infantry Brigade was to operate in what was known as the Aghyl
Dere (Dere in Turkish means "gully"). The operation order gave out that
we were to establish our Field Hospital in such a position as to be
readily accessible for the great number of wounded we expected.
Meantime, after making all arrangements for the move and ascertaining
that each man knew his job exactly, we sat about for a while. The
bombardment was to commence at 5 p.m. Precisely at that hour the
_Bacchante_ opened fire, the howitzers and our field guns co-operating,
the Turks making a hearty response. The din was frightful. To make a
man sitting beside me hear what I was saying, I had to shout at the top
of my voice. However, there were not many men hit. We had tea--for
which Walkley had got three eggs from somewhere, the first I had
tasted since leaving Egypt. We tried to get some sleep, but that was
impossible, the noise being so great; it was hard, too, to know where
one was safe from bullets. Mr. Tute, the Quartermaster, and I got a
dug-out fairly well up the hill, and turned in. We had not been long
there when a machine-gun appeared to be trained right on to us--bullets
were coming in quantities. It was pitch-dark, so we waited until they
stopped, and then got further down the gully and tried to sleep
there--but this particular dug-out had more than ourselves in it, and
we passed the night hunting for things. The Division started to march
out just after dark, the 4th Brigade leading. It was almost daylight
before the rear of the column passed the place at which we were
waiting. The men were all in great spirits, laughing and chaffing and
giving the usual "Are we down'earted?". I think those men would laugh
if they were going to be hanged. Our bearer divisions, in charge
respectively of Captains Welch, Jeffries and Kenny, followed in rear of
the Brigade, while the tent divisions came in rear of the whole column.

Major Meikle and I had often, like Moses viewing the Land of Promise,
looked at the country over which the fight was now to take place--a
stretch of flats about three miles long, from the beach up to the foot
of the hills. As the day broke, we found a transformation at Nibronesi
Point, which is the southernmost part of Suvla Bay. At nightfall not a
ship was there; now there was a perfect forest of masts. The place
looked like Siberia in Newcastle when there was a strike on. I counted
ten transports, seven battle-cruisers, fourteen destroyers, twelve
trawlers and a lot of pinnaces. These had landed the force which was
afterwards known as the Suvla Bay Army. A balloon ship and five
hospital ships were also at anchor in the bay. As we passed what was
known as our No. 3 Outpost, we came across evidences of the
fight--dead men, dead mules, equipment, ammunition boxes and rifles
lying all over the place. We noted, too, little hillocks of sand here
and there, from behind which the Turks had fired at our column. It was
evident that our men had soon got in touch with the enemy and had
driven him back. The Aghyl Dere proved to be a fairly wide gully with
steep hills on either side. A little distance, about three quarters of
a mile up, we came to what had been the Turkish Brigade Headquarters.
Here everything was as they had left it. The surprise had been
complete, and we had given them very short notice to quit. Clothing,
rifles, equipment, copper pans and boilers were in abundance, and it
was evident that Abdul makes war with regard to every comfort, for
there were visible also sundry articles of wearing apparel only used
by the gentler sex. The men had comfortable bivouacs and plenty of
bed-clothing of various patterns. The camp was situated in a hollow,
round in shape and about a hundred yards in diameter, with dug-outs in
the surrounding hillsides; all was very clean, except for the fleas,
of which a good assortment remained. The dug-outs were roofed in with
waterproof sheets, buttoned together and held up by pegs which fitted
into one another. These sheets, with the poles, made handy bivouac
shelters, easily pitched and struck. Altogether, their camp equipment
was better than ours.

We annexed all the pans and boilers and made good use of them for our
own Ambulance. Then, proceeding further up the gully, we found it
almost impassable by reason of dead Ghurkas and mules; a gun on a
ridge had the range of this place to a nicety, and the ammunition
train was held up for a time. I never saw such a mess of entangled
mules; they were kicking and squealing, many of them were wounded, and
through it all the Indian drivers were endeavouring to restore some
kind of order. One had to keep close under the banks to escape the
shells. Not far from here was the emplacement of our old friend "Windy
Annie," but alas! Annie was constant to Abdul, and they had taken her
with them. It was a great pity we did not get the gun. No wonder our
guns never found the place. The ground had been dug out to some depth
and then roofed over with great logs and covered with earth and
sandbags; the ammunition--plenty of it--was in deep pits on either
side; artillery quarters were in close proximity, and the tracks of
the gun were clearly seen.

The shelling was far too heavy to let us pitch a dressing station
anywhere here, so we retired to the beach to find a place more
sheltered under the hills; the bearers meanwhile followed the troops.
Soon scores of casualties began to arrive, and we selected a position
in a dry creek about six yards wide, with high banks on either side.
The operating tent was used as a protection from the sun and stretched
from bank to bank, the centre being upheld by rifles lashed together;
the panniers were used to form the operating table, and our drugs were
placed round the banks. We were, however, much handicapped by not
having any transport, as our donkeys had been requisitioned by the
Army Service Corps. Everything had to be carried from a distance, and
water was exceedingly scarce. All day we were treating cases and
operating until late at night. Major Meikle and I divided the night,
and we were kept going. From one until four in the morning I slept in
a hole in a trench like a tomb.

At daylight we could see our men righting their way through the scrub
over Sari Bair, the warships firing just ahead of them to clear the
scrub of the Turkish Infantry. The foremost men carried flags, which
denoted the farthest point reached and the extent of the two flanks,
as a direction to the ship. With the glasses one could see that the
bayonet was being used pretty freely; the Turks were making a great
stand, and we were losing a lot of men. They could be seen falling
everywhere.

AMBULANCE WORK

Our bearers were doing splendid work; it was a long and dangerous
carry, and a lot of them were wounded themselves. The miserable part
of the affair was that the Casualty Clearing Station on the beach
broke down and could not evacuate our wounded. This caused a block,
and we had numbers of wounded on our hands. A block of a few hours can
be dealt with, but when it is impossible to get cases away for forty
hours the condition of the men is very miserable. However, we got the
cooks going, and had plenty of Bovril and Oxo, which we boiled up with
biscuits broken small. It made a very sustaining meal, but caused
thirst, which was troublesome, as it was particularly difficult to
obtain water. Shelter from the sun, too, was hard to get; the day was
exceedingly hot, and there were only a few trees about. As many as
could be got into the shade were put there, but we had to keep moving
them round to avoid the sun. Many of the cases were desperate, but
they uttered not a word of complaint--they all seemed to understand
that it was not our fault that they were kept here.

As the cases were treated by us, they were taken down towards the
beach and kept under cover as much as possible. At one time we had
nearly four hundred waiting for removal to the ship. Then came a
message asking for more stretchers to be sent to the firing line, and
none were to be obtained; so we just had to remove the wounded from
those we had, lay them on the ground, and send the stretchers up.
Thank goodness, we had plenty of morphia, and the hypodermic syringe
relieved many who would otherwise have suffered great agony.

Going through the cases, I found one man who had his arm shattered and
a large wound in his chest. Amputation at the shoulder-joint was the
only way of saving his life. Major Clayton gave the anaesthetic, and
we got him through.

Quite a number of Ghurkas and Sikhs were amongst the wounded, and they
all seemed to think that it was part of the game; patience loomed
large among their virtues. Turkish wounded were also on our hands,
and, though they could not speak our language, still they expressed
gratitude with their eyes. One of the Turks was interrogated, first by
the Turkish interpreter with no result; the Frenchman then had a go at
him, and still nothing could be got out of him. After these two had
finished, Captain Jefferies went over to the man and said, "Would you
like a drink of water?" "Yes, please," was the reply.

During one afternoon, after we had been in this place for three days,
a battalion crossed the ground between us and the beach. This brought
the Turkish guns into action immediately, and we got the time of our
lives. We had reached a stage when we regarded ourselves as fair
judges of decent shell-fire, and could give an unbiassed opinion on
the point, but--to paraphrase Kipling--what we knew before was "Pop"
to what we now had to swallow. The shells simply rained on us,
shrapnel all the time; of course our tent was no protection as it
consisted simply of canvas, and the only thing to do was to keep under
the banks as much as possible. We were jammed full of wounded in no
time. Men rushing into the gully one after another, and even a company
of infantry tried to take shelter there; but that, of course, could
not be allowed. We had our Geneva Cross flag up, and their coming
there only drew fire.

[Illustration: Getting Wounded off after a Fight.]

[Illustration: Water Carts protected by Sand Bags.]

[Illustration: Burial Parties during the Armistice.]

[Illustration: Simpson and his Donkey.]

In three-quarters of an hour we put through fifty-four cases. Many
bearers were hit, and McGowen and Threlfall of the 1st Light Horse
Field Ambulance were killed. Seven of our tent division were wounded.
One man reported to me that he had been sent as a reinforcement, had
been through Samoa, and had just arrived in Gallipoli. While he was
speaking, he sank quietly down without a sound. A bullet had come over
my shoulder into his heart. That was another instance of the fortune
of war. Many men were hit, either before they landed or soon after,
while others could go months with never a scratch. From 2 till 7 p.m.
we dealt with 142 cases.

This shelling lasted for an hour or more, and when it subsided a party
of men arrived with a message from Divisional Headquarters. They had
been instructed to remove as many of the Ambulance as were alive.
Headquarters, it appears, had been watching the firing. We lost very
little time in leaving, and for the night we dossed down in the scrub
a mile further along the beach, where we were only exposed to the fire
of spent bullets coming over the hills. Our fervent prayer was that we
had said good-bye to shells.

The new position was very nice; it had been a farm--in fact the plough
was still there, made of wood, no iron being used in its construction.
Blackberries, olives, and wild thyme grew on the place, and also a
kind of small melon. We did not eat any; we thought we were running
enough risks already; but the cooks used the thyme to flavour the
bovril, and it was a nice addition.

Not far from us something happened that was for all the world like an
incident described by Zola in his "Debacle," when during the
bombardment before Sedan a man went on ploughing in a valley with a
white horse, while an artillery duel continued over his head.
Precisely the same thing occurred here--the only difference being that
here a man persisted in looking after his cattle, while the guns were
firing over his head.

Walkley and Betts proved ingenious craftsmen. They secured two wheels
left by the Signalling Corps, and on these fastened a stretcher; out
of a lot of the web equipment lying about they made a set of harness;
two donkeys eventuated from somewhere, and with this conveyance quite
a lot of transport was done. Water and rations were carried as well,
and the saving to our men was great. Goodness knows the bearers were
already sufficiently worked carrying wounded.

The _Bacchante_ did some splendid firing, right into the trenches
every time. With one shot, amongst the dust and earth, a Turk went up
about thirty feet: arms and legs extended, his body revolving like a
catherine wheel. One saw plenty of limbs go up at different times, but
this was the only time when I saw a man go aloft _in extenso_.

It was while we were in this position that W.O. Henderson was hit; the
bullet came through the tent, through another man's arm and into Mr.
Henderson. He was a serious loss to the Ambulance, as since its
inception he had had sole charge of everything connected with the
supply of drugs and dressings, and I missed his services very much.

We were now being kept very busy and had little time for rest, numbers
of cases being brought down. Our table was made of four biscuit boxes,
on which were placed the stretchers. We had to be very sparing of
water, as all had to be carried. The donkey conveyance was kept
constantly employed. Whenever that party left we used to wonder
whether they would return, for one part of the road was quite exposed
to fire; but Betts and Walkley both pulled through.

One night I had just turned in at nine-thirty, when Captain Welch came
up to say that a bad casualty had come in, and so many came in
afterwards that it was three o'clock in the following morning before I
had finished operating. While in the middle of the work I looked up
and found G. Anschau holding the lantern. He belonged to the 1st Field
Ambulance, but had come over to our side to give any assistance he
could. He worked like a Trojan.

We still had our swim off the beach from this position. It will be a
wonderful place for tourists after the war is over. For Australians
particularly it will have an unbounded interest. The trenches where
the men fought will be visible for a long time, and there will be
trophies to be picked up for years to come. All along the flat land by
the beach there are sufficient bullets to start a lead factory. Then
searching among the gullies will give good results. We came across the
Turkish Quartermaster's store, any quantity of coats and boots and
bully beef. The latter was much more palatable than ours.

Our men had a novel way of fishing; they threw a bomb into the water,
and the dead fish would either float and be caught or go to the
bottom--in which case the water was so clear that they were easily
seen. Wilson brought me two, something like a mackerel, that were
delicious.

As there was still a good deal of delay in getting the cases off, our
tent was brought over from Canterbury Gully and pitched on the beach;
the cooks keeping the bovril and biscuits going. We could not maintain
it there long, however, as the Turks' rifle-fire was too heavy, so the
evacuation was all done from Walker's Ridge about two miles away. The
Casualty Clearing Station here (the 16th) was a totally different
proposition from the other one. Colonel Corkery was commanding
officer, and knew his job. His command was exceedingly well
administered, and there was no further occasion to fear any block in
getting our wounded off.

Amongst the men who came in to be dressed was one wounded in the leg.
The injury was a pretty bad one, though the bone was not fractured.
The leg being uncovered, the man sat up to look at it. He exclaimed
"Eggs a cook! I thought it was only a scratch!"

Our bearers did great work here, Sergeant Baber being in charge and
the guiding spirit amongst them. Carberry from Western Australia
proved his worth in another manner. The 4th Brigade were some distance
up the gully and greatly in want of water. Carberry seems to have the
knack of divining, for he selected a spot where water was obtained
after sinking. General Monash drew my attention to this, and Carberry
was recommended for the D.C.M.

Early in August, soon after Colonel Manders was killed, I was promoted
to his position as Assistant Director of Medical Services, or, as it
is usually written, A.D.M.S. On this I relinquished command of the 4th
Field Ambulance, and though I appreciated the honour of the promotion
yet I was sorry to leave the Ambulance. We had been together so long,
and through so much, and every member of it was of such sterling
worth, that when the order came for me to join Headquarters I must say
that my joy was mingled with regret. Everyone--officers,
non-commissioned officers and men--had all striven to do their level
best, and had succeeded. With one or two exceptions it was our first
experience on active service, but all went through their work like
veterans. General Godley, in whose division we were, told me how
pleased he was with the work of the Ambulance and how proud he was to
have them in his command. The Honour list was quite sufficient to
satisfy any man. We got one D.S.O., two D.C.M.s, and sixteen
"Mentioned in Despatches." Many more deserved recognition, but then
all can't get it.

Major Meikle took charge, and I am sure the same good work will be
done under his command. Captain Dawson came over with me as
D.A.D.M.S. He had been Adjutant from the start until the landing,
when he "handed over" to Captain Finn, D.S.O., who was the dentist.
Major Clayton had charge of C Section; Captains Welch, Jeffries and
Kenny were the officers in charge of the Bearer Divisions. Jeffries
and Kenny were both wounded. Captain B. Finn, of Perth, Western
Australia, was a specialist in eye and ear diseases. Mr. Cosgrove was
the Quartermaster, and Mr. Baber the Warrant Officer; Sergeant Baxter
was the Sergeant Clerk. To mention any of the men individually would
be invidious. They were as fine a set of men as one would desire to
command. In fact, the whole Ambulance was a very happy family, all
doing their bit and doing it well.

On the 21st of August an attack was made on what were know as the W
Hills--so named from their resemblance to that letter of the alphabet.
Seated on a hill one had a splendid view of the battle. First the
Australians went forward over some open ground at a slow double with
bayonets fixed, not firing a shot; the Turks gave them shrapnel and
rifle-fire, but very few fell. They got right up to the first Turkish
trench, when all the occupants turned out and retired with more speed
than elegance. Still our men went on, taking a few prisoners and
getting close to the hills, over which they disappeared from my view.
Next, a battalion from Suvla came across as supports. The Turks
meanwhile had got the range to a nicety; the shrapnel was bursting
neatly and low and spreading beautifully--it was the best Turkish
shooting I had seen. The battalion was rather badly cut up, but a
second body came across in more open order than the others, and well
under the control of their officers; they took advantage of cover, and
did not lose so many men. The fight was more like those one sees in
the illustrated papers than any hitherto--shells bursting, men
falling, and bearers going out for the wounded. The position was
gained and held, but there was plenty of work for the Ambulance.

There were very few horses on the Peninsula, and those few belonged to
the Artillery. But at the time I speak of we had one attached to the
New Zealand and Australian Headquarters, to be used by the despatch
rider. Anzac, the Headquarters of General Birdwood, was about two and
a half miles away; and, being a true Australian, the despatch-carrier
declined to walk when he could ride, so he rode every day with
despatches. Part of the journey had to be made across a position open
to fire from Walker's Ridge. We used to watch for the man every day,
and make bets whether he would be hit. Directly he entered the fire
zone, he started as if he were riding in the Melbourne Cup, sitting
low in the saddle, while the bullets kicked up dust all round him. One
day the horse returned alone, and everyone thought the man had been
hit at last; but in about an hour's time he walked in. The saddle had
slipped, and he came off and rolled into a sap, whence he made his way
to us on foot.

When going through the trenches it is not a disadvantage to be small
of stature. It is not good form to put one's head over the sandbags;
the Turks invariably objected, and even entered their protest against
periscopes, which are very small in size. Numbers of observers were
cut about the face and a few lost their eyes through the mirror at the
top being smashed by a bullet. On one occasion I was in a trench which
the men were making deeper. A rise in the bottom of it just enabled
me, by standing on it, to peer through the loophole. On commending the
man for leaving this lump, he replied, "That's a dead Turk, sir!"

ARTILLERY

Watching the Field Artillery firing is very interesting. I went one
day with General Johnstone of the New Zealand Artillery to Major
Standish's Battery, some distance out on the left, and the observing
station was reached through a long sap. It was quite close to the
Turk's trenches, close enough to see the men's faces. All directions
were given by telephone, and an observer placed on another hill gave
the result of the shot--whether under, over, or to the right or left.
Errors were corrected and the order to fire again given, the target
meanwhile being quite out of sight of the battery commander.

It was amusing to hear the heated arguments between the Artillery and
Infantry, in which the latter frequently and vehemently asseverated
that they "could have taken the sanguinary place only our own
Artillery fired on them." They invariably supported these arguments by
the production of pieces of shell which had "blanky near put their
Australian adjective lights out." Of course the denials of the
Artillery under these accusations were very emphatic; but the
production of the shell-fragments was awkward evidence, and it was
hard to prove an alibi.

The advent of the hospital ship _Maheno_ resulted in a pleasant
addition to our dietary, as the officers sent ashore some butter,
fresh bread and a case of apples. The butter was the first I had
tasted for four and a half months. The _Maheno_ belonged to the Union
Company, and had been fitted up as a hospital ship under the command
of Colonel Collins. He was the essence of hospitality, and a meal on
board there was a dream.

While we were away along the beach for a swim one afternoon, the Turks
began shelling our quarters. It had not happened previously, and
everyone thought we were out of range. The firing lasted for about an
hour and a half. I fully expected that the whole place would be
smashed. On the contrary, beyond a few mules and three men hit,
nothing had happened, and there was little in the ground to show the
effects of the firing. (I noticed the same with regard to the firing
of the naval guns. They appeared to lift tons of earth, but when one
traversed the position later very little alteration could be
detected.) The Turks, however started at night again, and one shot
almost buried me in my dug-out.

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