described his tour of the Gallipoli peninsula in an article published on 12th July 1930.
“Some Painful Memories.
“(By Lieut.-General Sir J. Talbot Hobbs.)
“After spending a week in Egypt, during which I visited the cemeteries in which so many of our men from Australia lie buried — at Port Said, Kantara, Ismailia, Tel el Kebir aud Cairo; the Light Horse Memorial (still waiting for the group of statuary) at Port Said, and the old camp site at Mena, much the same as when we left it for Gallipoli, but minus the tents and hutments; and now screened from the Mena road by an extension of the Mena House Hotel gardens — I embarked on a Roumanian steamer bound for the Black Sea, for the Gallipoli Peninsula. The voyage was broken by an interesting day at Athens, and at 3.30 o’clock on the morning of April 14, I got up and went on deck as we were approaching Helles and the entrance to the Dardanelles.
“The moon was waning, and the headlands at the entrance stood out boldly in the semi-darkness — a night that put me in mind of the night of the landing. The sea, too, was just about the same as then, with little more than a ripple on it. The lighthouse, with its powerful revolving light, guides the shipping into the Straits. It also flashes at intervals on to the splendid Helles War Memorial, giving it the effect of a finger of light pointing to the heavens. The effect is most impressive and weird, and is well worth getting up, in the middle of the night to see. As we passed northwards to the ‘Narrows,’ the outline of the land on both sides of the Straits was visible, and the terrible disasters to our ships in the early naval attacks came back to my memory. I realised the tremendous odds against success in the campaign undertaken by the Allied ships on that memorable occasion.
“I arrived at Chanak (on the Asiatic side of the ‘Narrows’), where I had, after some difficulty and expense, arranged to land (instead of going on to Constantinople ‘and then coming back) just as dawn was breaking, and was met in a launch by Mr. Tasman Millington, an Australian officer, in the employ of the Imperial War Graves Commission, who, under Colonel Hughes, is responsible for the planting and maintenance of the war cemeteries and war memorials in this area. I had, of course, the usual little difficulties with the Turkish Customs authorities, and then proceeded to the residence of Mr. Millington, whose kind invitation I had accepted to stay with him during the time of my visit. I don’t know where else I could have stayed in this half-ruined, poverty-stricken Turkish town.
“A Natural Fortress.
“After an early breakfast, accompanied by Mr. Millington. I crossed the ‘Narrows’ to Kilid Bahr in a very fine motor launch belonging to the War Graves Commission, and which, by the courtesy of the Turkish authorities, is permitted to fly the Australian flag. The launch engineer, I might remark, was a ‘White’ Russian, and the coxswain an ex-Turkish sailor, who was during his war service in the Dardanelles, twice blown up in Turkish men of war, torpedoed by our submarines. On landing at Kilid Bahr, we stepped into a rather dilapidated Ford car (also the property of the Commission) and were driven extraordinarily well over very rough and, at various points, dangerous roads, by the ‘White’ Russian from the launch. We proceeded then to visit the Helles area over the very rough ground and breakneck roads, which give communication to the cemeteries and war memorials.
“The first object of interest, of course, is “Achi Baba,” over 700 feet high — that natural fortress of immense strength which, with a comparatively small number of resolute men, under capable leaders, could, and did, successfully resist the frontal attacks made by British and Allied, troops, over a natural glacis practically devoid of cover. No wonder we failed in this area. The wonder is that once the true conditions that obtained had been appreciated, any further effort was made to accomplish what to many who have studied the art of war — of modern war, at all events — appears to be almost impossible. The only hope we apparently had was on the first day, when Krithia was taken, and then abandoned. We never had a second chance.
“Twelve Tree Copse” Cemetery marks the nearest point to the network of Turkish trenches, still visible; while the numerous cemeteries and memorials on which are inscribed the names of the missing, spread over this blood-soaked area south of Achi Baba, bear eloquent testimony of the magnificent gallantry and self-sacrifice of British soldiers (including many Australians of the 2nd Infantry Brigade, and Field Artillery) and their French Allies. The splendid memorial already mentioned, erected in honour of the “missing,” and I think the only one to the officers and men of the British Navy and Mercantile Marine, who lost their lives in this theatre of the war, is in the form of an obelisk, and rises about 100 feet. It is partially enclosed with stone walls on which the name tablets are set, and is a very fine and striking memorial indeed.
“French Memorial.
“The French have also erected a national memorial of an uncommon design near Morto Bay. Strangely, too, they have also erected two memorials nearby to mark the spot where two French generals were wounded. I spent the whole day in the Helles area, which I had little knowledge of during the war. It is intensely interesting and the difficulties, and heroic courage and endurance of the British troops, both at the landing and in the months of desperate fighting that followed, can only be properly appreciated by actually seeing the beaches and ground and particularly the objective of our efforts at Helles — the frowning, almost impregnable natural fortress of Achi Baba which dominated every movement made by the Allied troops south of it.
“I returned to Chanak that evening and next morning we started again for Kilid Bahr to visit Anzac and Suvla areas. The night had been stormy, with a high wind, and heavy rain and my anticipation of a pretty rough crossing (with strong wind against the very strong current thrown in) was fully realised. I frankly confess that at one time I wondered whether I was not going to finish up at the Dardanelles after all. However, owing to the excellent seamanship of our Turkish ex-man o’ wars-man, we arrived safely, but wet, and started in the Ford car over roads little less risky after the rain, than the launch trip had been, roads and tracks on the Peninsula after heavy rain being very much like wet soap. We skirted the coast to Maidos, which is practically in ruins from the effect of our shelling during the war, and now only contains a few score, half-starved looking people, who appeared to have nothing to do and to have lost all interest in life. Passing through Maidos, we turned west towards Gaba Tepe, and saw the ground that we longed so much, during the war, to see and to gain. It was with great interest and curiosity that I approached the Olive Grove, the valley from which the Turkish field guns raked the beach at Anzac and caused us such grievous loses. Times out of number we bombarded this ground, and generally, were able to silence the Turkish fire, for a time. My own impression then was that the Turk had gun pits or tunnels in which he sheltered his guns and crews when we got on to him badly, but there is no sign of pits or artificial protection to-day. Neither is there in rear of the Wine Glass Ridge, from which we were punished so badly at times, and tried to hammer with the 18 pounder guns. I realise now, as I thought then, that only howitzers, which we so badly needed at Anzac, could do the job.
“We reached the coast just north of Gabe Tepe and proceeded northwards by a well constructed road (built by the Commission) skirting Brighton Beach and then turned north- west up the slippery hillside track to Lone Pine Cemetery and war memorial, on the area occupied by the Turkish redoubt, the capture of which, in August, 1915, was the Anzacs’ crowning glory at Gallipoli. Looking eastward from here a full view is obtained of the “terrain” from the Aegean Sea, to the ridge which partially screens the Narrows and the Dardanelles. This ridge rises with a long easy slope from the low ground west of it, like a natural glacis and forms a final barrier of great strength. Undoubtedly the late General Bridges was right when he insisted that our attack and advance to the Narrows should be from just north of Gaba Tepe to Maidos and Kelia Bay, seizing Sari Bair on the north flank. It might have been done if we had been able to land at the place intended, and with not less than three divisions of first-class troops.
“Sir William Birdwood’s Idea.
“I believe Field-Marshal (then General) Sir William Birdwood, desired to breakthrough from the Lone Pine plateau in August, 1915, when the Suvla Bay attack took place, and I cannot help feeling, on seeing the ground, that it was the best line of advance, providing we had possessed the troops to follow up the breakthrough. Time does not permit me to describe in detail the cemeteries visited after leaving Lone. Pine, and comprising among others, Johnston’s Jolly, Courtney’s and Steele’s post, Quinn’s post, Walker Ridge, Baby 700, Chunik Bair, Fourth Battalion Beach Cemetery, Canterbury, Hill 60, The Farm, Ari Burni, Shrapnel Valley, Shell Green, etc. All are most carefully sited with regard to view and weather conditions, beautifully designed, well laid out and admirably looked after and maintained. Australia has a beautiful memorial containing a small chapel or chamber, at Lone Pine, though I think it needs suitable furnishings and a proper visitors’ book.
“I was very much impressed, amazed, in fact, with the enormous amount of work that has been carried out in connection with the cemeteries and memorials — work executed under most difficult and trying conditions, particularly with regard to inaccessibility, transport, labour and climate. The cemeteries, on the whole, are admirably sited though, of course, in many cases they are the original burial grounds dictated by the exigencies of war, rather than the considered choice of desirable sites.
“The New Zealand memorial on Chunik Bair, to commemorate the New Zealanders’ magnificent gallantry that so nearly succeeded in winning the key of the position in the August fighting; the Australian memorial at Lone Pine, and the British National Memorial at Cape Helles are all most striking monuments to our glorious dead, and can be seen by ships passing through the Dardanelles to and from Constantinople. Very great credit is due to Mr. T. Millington, the officer in charge, for the manner in which the flowers, shrubs and trees in and about the cemeteries are tended by his staff of Turkish peasant women, Greeks and ‘White’ Russians. Most of the cemeteries are enclosed with stone walls with shrubberies and pines outside them, which are absolutely essential to form a breakwind or screen to protect the plants and Rosemary shrubs that are so beautiful, but which in many cases have been withered and scorched by the severity of the winter months in this terribly exposed country.
“Unlike the war zones in France and Belgium, the lines of trenches and earth works, though partially filled in and covered with rank grass and scrub, clearly define the ground and defences occupied by both sides. Plenty of wire, too, still lies about, as I discovered by the damage to my clothing. In places gruesome relics of dead soldiers are in evidence, notwithstanding all the care taken in this respect.
“Turkish Precautions.
“It is interesting to note that the Turks evidently feared a further visit from us after the evacuation. A good deal of new wiring was done along the beaches at favourable landing places, while a very large and powerful naval gun was emplaced on Walker’s Ridge. This and all the Turkish defences and guns in the Dardanelles have, however, in accordance with the peace terms, been blown to pieces and destroyed. I left Gallipoli with a feeling of deep sadness because it is so silent and desolate, so pregnant with the memories of heroic gallantry, self-sacrifice, and endurance of the splendid men who died there, more closely associated and knowing each other better, perhaps, than did the troops in France and Belgium, particularly in the early days, when the position was so desperate, the losses from fighting and sickness so great — when there was no relief, nor retreat, except to be driven into the sea. Sadder still is the feeling that the sacrifices in blood and treasure were made in vain, for after the experience there from the landing until the middle of November, 1915, and now seeing the ground and being able to appreciate what we were up against, I am convinced that we never had a chance of victory. The great consolation is that the terrible losses suffered by the Turks in the loss of the flower of their armies at Gallipoli, paved the way to the victories in Palestine, and this, I understand, is fully admitted.
“As I was taking a last look at Chunik Bair from the decks of the small Turkish steamer taking me on to Constantinople, the captain, a very courteous Turkish officer, and the only other man on board I discovered who spoke English, came to me, and, pointing to Chunik Bair; said, “Ah, man Generale, you have been there.” I nodded “Yes.” With a pained, sad expression and deeply troubled voice, he continued: “It is bloody ground; it is bloody ground. It was no use to you. It was no use to us. It is bloody ground; we will not talk about it.” And he quietly walked away.
“In conclusion, I should like to say how much I owe to Colonel C. E. Hughes, the officer in charge of the I.W.G. Commission, Eastern area, Major Vickery in Egypt, and Mr. T. Millington in charge at Gallipoli (all Australians, who have tendered most valuable and distinguished service in carrying out their duties with the commission), for all they did to enable me to see, under the best and most convenient conditions, what I have, in limited measure tried to describe.
“I strongly advise intending visitors to go either with a properly organised party or very carefully make their arrangements, otherwise it may mean a good deal of trouble, expense, and annoyance. It is not very easy to get into Turkey. It certainly is not very easy to get out unless one’s passport is in perfect order and the necessary visas are obtained, both for that country and others passed through, on the way to Paris or London.” [1]
[1] ‘The West Australian’ (Perth, Western Australia), 12th July 1930.
Image: Sir Joseph Hobbs, AWM E05007.