The Gallipoli Experience Reconsidered

Peter Liddle

• Publisher: Pen & Sword Military
• Year: 2015
• Print ISBN: 9781783400393
• eBook ISBN: 9781473851092
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World War I
• Index: History

The Gallipoli Campaign is generally viewed as a disastrous failure of the First World War, inadequately redeemed by the heroism of the soldiers and sailors who were involved in the fighting. But before the first landings were made, the concept of a strike at the Dardanelles seemed to offer a short cut to victory in a war without prospect of end. The venture, and what was required of the men undertaking it who were enduring heavy casualties, eminently deserve reconsideration in the centenary year of the campaign. What fuelled and what drained morale during the eight months of extraordinary human endeavour? A balanced evaluation of the Gallipoli gamble, and of the political and military leadership, are the challenging tasks which Peter Liddle sets himself in his new study of the campaign and the experience of the men who served in it.

Chapter 1

Preliminaries

The Dardanelles is the narrow stretch of water which links the Sea of Marmara to the Aegean, separating the continents of Europe and Asia. This waterway, which provides the vital Mediterranean outlet for the Black Sea via the Bosporus, has Turkish territory on both shores. The tongue of land which forms the northern shore is the Gallipoli Peninsula, named after the village of Gallipoli (Gelibolu) on its southern shore.

At the outbreak of the First World War on 4 August 1914 the area immediately became involved in the action owing to the presence in the Mediterranean of the German battlecruiser Goeben and the light cruiser Breslau, which escaped from the British and French Mediterranean squadrons, slipped through the Dardanelles and arrived off Constantinople on 9 August.

William Cave, serving as a Chief Petty Officer in HMS Dublin, the cruiser which, though far outmatched, had come nearest to forcing the Goeben to action in the chase for the Dardanelles, wrote of the disappointment aboard the Dublin at that time. He had been range-taker on the upper navigating bridge, where he worked and slept during the search.

Our gun crews were itching to justify our winning the Mediterranean Fleet Battle Practice Cup just prior to the outbreak of the war. The order of ‘All guns with lyddite – load’ was greeted with cheers from all hands. Within I suppose ten seconds the breach workers had removed the fuse caps and ‘guns ready’ was reported from all our 8- and 6-inch guns. Next came the torpedo orders ‘Flood out bar’. Both port and starboard 21-inch torpedo tubes, previously loaded, were ready to fire. It was very early in the morning and I could only get approximate ranges in that light. Strangely Goeben and Breslau hadn’t put out smoke screens and we could only presume they hadn’t seen us. When we were within 6,000 yards and were positioning for torpedo attack, the two destroyers Beagle and Bulldog were ordered into position as at a boat race by Captain Kelly shouting through a megaphone from the starboard boat-deck ‘Back Bulldog’, ‘Up Beagle’. Then we were spotted and the German ships sheered off to port exposing only an end on view. As they could now turn if they so wished and have us at their mercy, all we could do was to turn away and present our stern view to them. When we heard the order ‘Cooks of messes to the galley for cocoa’ we knew that we had failed in our chance secretly to approach and damage or sink Goeben. The guns remained loaded but not all the company showed frustration in cursing, some were actually in tears.

Stopping colliers from entering the Straits to coal Goeben and Breslau, range-keeping exercises and practice firings were to be poor compensation, though Cave asserted that Dublin had drawn fire from the Peninsula even before the end of August. When preparing for ‘hands to bathe’, the ship had been shelled and thus could lay claim to being the war’s first British target for Turkish shells.

The story of the escape of the Goeben is told in a book by Redmond McLaughlin,¹ in which the author makes use of Admiral Souchon’s memoirs concerning the herculean efforts to coal his ship at Messina, when music in the form of martial airs, extra rations, stirring speeches, etc., had been used to increase the work rate. The exhaustion and danger from scalding the overworked stokers are also mentioned in the book, which uses the evidence of a crew member’s published memoirs to show that four stokers were killed during their labours in the chase.² Hans von Mohl, a gunnery officer in Breslau, recalled the state of tension on the ship, exemplified by his reply on being asked what their destination was – ‘Heaven or Hell!’

During the days of the chase, numerous pertinent and impertinent articles appeared in The Tenedos Times, the monthly journal of the Mediterranean Destroyer Flotilla. An advertisement read, ‘What offers? Two cross-bred Racers, Goeben and Breslau, both by Germany out of Kiel. Have been regularly hunted this season. Owing to the War, owner unable to use same. Apply B. F. Turk Esq., “The Dumping Ground”, Chanak.’ Then, with apologies to Lewis Carroll, there appeared a parody which included these verses:

The Goeben and the Breslau

In the Sea of Marmara lay.

They wept like anything to see

Those silent watchers grey.

‘We’re sold to Turkey now,’ they cried.

‘Why won’t they go away?’

‘If Turkey keeps the Straits shut up

To ships for half a year

Do you suppose,’ the Breslau said,

‘Those ships outside would clear?’

‘I doubt it,’ said the Goeben,

‘They’d still be there, I fear.’³

Some might see it permissible to regard the Anglo-German-Ottoman diplomacy before the Turks declared their hand, as a card game with players making persuasive gifts and costly gaffes. This is not appropriate. The German ‘gift’ – Goeben and Breslau – had nowhere else to go than the Dardanelles for Ottoman employment, and the British ‘gaffe’ of withholding from the Turks two dreadnoughts being built and completed in Britain and already paid-for by them, was made on the reasonable judgement of the uncomfortably narrow advantage held by the British Grand Fleet over the German High Seas Fleet. Yes, the ‘gift’ and the ‘gaffe’ contributed to the developing denouement but to attribute generosity or shrewdness to one and folly to the other will not do. The charge of bad faith against Britain has to stand and it is explained if not excused by Realpolitik, something well-understood by her adversary.

A signal from the Admiralty on 21 September to Vice-Admiral Carden, commander of the British Eastern Mediterranean Naval Squadron, affirmed that his ‘sole duty is to sink Goeben and Breslau, no matter what flag they fly, if they come out of the Dardanelles’,⁴ but he was unable to put the order into effect. Government and Admiralty indicated their awareness of the approaching certainty of Turkey joining the Central Powers with a message to Carden on the 26th: ‘You are authorized to attack any Turkish ships of war emerging from the Dardanelles’,⁵ and on the following day war was declared between Turkey and the Triple Entente of Britain, France and Russia, thus putting Egypt and the vital Suez Canal in real danger.

On 2 November, a wireless message from the Admiralty informed Carden that ‘without risking the ships, demonstration is to be made by bombardment on the earliest suitable day by your armoured ships against the forts at the entrance of the Dardanelles at a range of 14,000 to 12,000 yards. Ships should keep under way, approaching as soon after daylight as possible, retirement should be made before fire from the forts becomes effective.’⁶ On the same day Carden prepared his orders, and they included the provision that ships were not to fire more than eight rounds per turret unless otherwise ordered by signal that rapid fire was necessary to keep the ships undamaged.

Cave has described his experience in the bombardment led by the flagship Indefatigable and Indomitable, together with the French ships led by Admiral Guépratte’s flagship, Suffren.

It seemed to me to be a deliberate bombardment of practically every building in sight [the Seddel Bahr area of Cape Helles], care being taken not to hit the minaret. This would be because of its use for range-finding and also perhaps because of a wish not to offend religious sensibilities. The main target was certainly the fort, which we made a mess of, culminating in a huge explosion. There had been sporadic return fire from several positions but we certainly weren’t hit and it was all a most one-sided affair.

In April 1919 the Dardanelles Committee of investigators interviewed the Turkish officer in command of the defences of the Dardanelles in 1914, Djevad Pasha. He confirmed that the attack had ‘caused more damage than any succeeding attack including that of 18 March’,⁷ and he accepted that Suffren’s shelling of the Kum Kale battery had caused hits on the gun emplacements, though no casualties were caused.

The bombardment was not followed up, and so the period of frustrating inaction was prolonged. The entrance to the Dardanelles was patrolled, as was the Gulf of Smyrna, and the French squadron was reinforced by the old battleships Gaulois, Charlemagne, St Louis and Bouvet. British destroyers attacked and drove back two Turkish gunboats and two torpedo boats on 5 November but otherwise it was the same interminable wait for Goeben and Breslau or for new Admiralty orders.

Former officers from Gaulois suggested to the author that the lack of any relations between the British and French crews at this time increased the tendency of the young French officers to blame the British in general and the Admiralty in particular for the inaction. These sentiments were aggravated by technical disagreements over gunnery, in which the French preferred the effectiveness of salvoes to the more deliberate and economical British fire of turret by turret. The British method allowed for observation and correction. Unlike the French and British soldiers who were to serve on the Peninsula, the sailors had little opportunity for fraternization, but some necessary exchange did take place and it is pleasant to read the letters of appreciation from British signal officers and ratings to Admiral Guépratte following upon attachment to French ships. In an undated letter from Mess 26 of the British flagship HMS Indefatigable, Signalman Madden wrote:

Please excuse the liberty I am taking in writing to you but as you told us we would be always your friends perhaps you will not mind. When we left Suffren I was too moved and touched to say much and so I write now and express my gratitude for all the kindness of the Admiral, officers and men bestowed on me while serving aboard your flagship. Never as long as I live will I forget it. My wish is that you will get the opportunity to distinguish yourself and so be able to rise to one of the highest in the French Navy.⁸

An English officer, H.D. Farquharson, who served aboard the French cruiser Jaureguiberry in April 1915, wrote the first half of his letter in French and then continued, ‘I can express myself better in English so I will tell you that I feel deeply indebted to you not only for your extreme kindness you showed to me and to my countrymen but for having given me the chance in assisting at a great event in history.’ Farquharson concluded: ‘Hoping we shall soon meet in Constantinople and that I may have the chance of entertaining you in London.’⁹

There is no doubt that this consciousness of participating in great events and the consequent sense of exhilaration were shared by many of the Army officers and men at the 25 April landings, and indeed there is abundant evidence that the Kitchener volunteers when they left England for the Suvla landing were imbued with the same spirit.

In December and January two undersea exploits were successively to lift and then lower morale in the Allied squadron, which was now officially under the command of Admiral Carden. The sinking by the British submarine B 11 of the Turkish battleship Messudieh and the subsequent loss of the French submarine Saphir were the two events responsible for this fluctuating morale.

The submarine service was still in its infancy and the problems of mines, nets and currents facing the 143-foot-long B 11, built in 1906 with a complement of twelve or thirteen,¹⁰ were serious. There was danger from petrol leaks and exhaust leak of carbon monoxide from the engine, which could cause, quite suddenly, the complete collapse of the crew members. The batteries had to be recharged on the surface, and submerged speed was not much more than 6½ knots. There was no escape from the submarine except by surfacing and getting out through the conning-tower, and all these factors combined to make the task of using effectively one of her four precious torpedoes a difficult one. Nevertheless, the competitive eagerness of officers and crew at this early date, and later the wonderful exploits of Nasmith and Boyle, are well documented.

Norman Holbrook provided the author with a vivid account of the B 11’s successful mission, the substance of which is fully confirmed in the official naval history.¹¹ With recently renewed batteries, B 11 was sent up the Straits on 13 December.

As a fisherman I knew that despite the strength of the current in midstream if I crept in close to the [north] shore there would be slack water. We dived to 60 feet at the Narrows, waited a while and then moved up and through. I came up to periscope depth and saw on the starboard quarter a large old Turkish battleship. We went down again but the tide got us and swept us into Sari Siglar Bay and now the ship [Messudieh] was on our port bow. I altered course and it needed full speed to combat the current and get into position for a shot. I fired one torpedo and then had to reduce speed because the lights were getting low and obviously our batteries were failing. We then found ourselves aground stern first and I could see the ship down by the stern and smoke from the shore suggesting that fire was being directed at us. By using full revs, we got off but I couldn’t see the way out of the bay. I looked for the farthest bit of land through the periscope but the coxswain said the spirit compass lenses had packed up and all he could see was black spots. I told him to follow them and at full [submerged] speed in twenty minu...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of Plates
• List of Maps
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• Prologue: Gestation and Political Responsibility
• Chapter 1: Preliminaries
• Chapter 2: The February Bombardments
• Chapter 3: Landing Parties and Minesweepers
• Chapter 4: The Naval Assault of 18 March
• Chapter 5: The Men of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force
• Chapter 6: En route for Egypt, Preparations and Plans for the Gallipoli Landings
• Chapter 7: 25 April: The Landing at Anzac Cove
• Chapter 8: 25 April: The Landings at Cape Helles and Kum Kale
• Chapter 9: Helles in April and May
• Chapter 10: May and Early Summer at Anzac
• Chapter 11: At Sea: Disaster on the Surface, Achievement Below
• Chapter 12: Helles in June and July
• Chapter 13: August Offensive: Plan, Command, Men and Endeavour at Anzac
• Chapter 14: August Offensive: the Landing at Suvla
• Chapter 15: Troopships and Hospital Ships
• Chapter 16: The Dead
• Chapter 17: Routine and Discipline
• Chapter 18: Prisoners of the Turks
• Chapter 19: Support from the Air
• Chapter 20: Autumn Stagnation and the Onset of Winter
• Chapter 21: The Evacuation
• Epilogue: The Responsibility of Naval and Military Command
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Unpublished Sources