From Many Angles

Excerpt:

. . .  I recommended that the flying services should be concentrated at Kephalos, on the island of Imbros, where I had found excellent sites for two aerodromes. Kephalos as a centre had many advantages over Tenedos. Kephalos harbour was the base in Imbros island, where G.H.Q. was situated, and where the Naval Commander-in-Chief's flagship was as a rule located. It was about thirty-five miles from the base at Lemnos and about ten from the trenches on the Peninsula. It afforded better communication than Tenedos with the troops at Anzac and Helles. The transfer to Imbros reduced the oversea flight by sixteen miles on the double journey to the Peninsula, and placed us in a central position when the Suvla operations shifted the centre of gravity northward. We were thus as centrally placed as possible for both the strategical and tactical areas in which we were operating.

Of course, I should have preferred, had it been possible, to avoid this sea crossing altogether; however, as seacraft were constantly passing, there was always the chance of a plane being picked up in the event of a forced descent on the water. Kephalos also had advantages as regards stores and supplies, and repair arrangements could be considerably speeded up. The harbour was not very good, as it was open to the prevailing north-east winds, but it was the best there was. At the entrance there was a submarine net; how effective it would have been I am not sure. There were rugged hills and high cliffs to the north of the anchorage, and the sea and the shores of the Peninsula to the east; on the south was the tableland which I selected for one of the aerodromes, and the sand-dunes upon which had been pitched the first G.H.Q. camp, and to the west was the low-lying neck of land where the seaplane base lay, to the north of which I proposed to establish another aerodrome and our R.N.A.S. Headquarters.

As regards material, I recommended that sufficient machines should be sent out to maintain in constant being two squadrons—viz., eighteen B.E. 2c's with Royal Aircraft Factory engines and eighteen Maurice Far-mans with 100-h.p. Renault engines, together with eighteen in reserve and as many spare engines as possible. I foresaw that maintenance of aircraft was going to be one of the greatest problems. I also asked for a photographic section with six cameras, twenty-four Lewis or Yickers guns with mountings, light wireless sets, and daylight signalling lamps. A 'mother ship' was to be organized, and—a very important point—a fast trawler or tug, with a derrick for lifting machines from the sea, was requisitioned. For work with the Fleet I asked for two squadrons of submarine scout airships, six two-seater and two single-seater scout seaplanes, and an additional kite-balloon section, together with sheds. Finally, a training unit was to be formed and equipped with machines unsuitable for flying over the enemy.

I arrived back in England on July 12 and took the opportunity to discuss the situation with various members of the Cabinet, but I found no one very enthusiastic. The Liberal Government had been replaced by the Coalition. Asquith, against his better judgment, had been forced to sacrifice Haldane, whose advice at this juncture would have been invaluable, and Churchill, the chief sponsor of Gallipoli, had been relegated to the Duchy of Lancaster. I pointed out that the situation at Gallipoli was one of stalemate. Neither side could make any progress, and the troops were overworked and underfed. The presence of German submarines had greatly enhanced the difficulty of naval co-operation.

On the 24th I was appointed in command of the air service in the Eastern Mediterranean. As I was a Colonel in the Army and my new command consisted of R.N.A.S. units, special steps had to be taken by the Admiralty to avoid technical difficulties which arose as regards command. I was therefore made a temporary Colonel Commandant, Royal Marines, as well as a Wing-Captain R.N.A.S., and given the seniority of a Captain in the Royal Navy, of three years' standing. Thus I held a curious assortment of ranks: I was at one and the same time a Captain in the 15th Hussars, Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel and Temporary Colonel in the Army, Wing-Commander R.F.C., Wing-Captain R.N.A.S., and Colonel Commandant of Royal Marines, with the seniority of a Captain, Royal Navy.

IV

A Nightmare Journey

I collected what equipment I could lay hands on and started on my return journey to Gallipoli immediately. The journey was not without adventures. On my way the driver of the Admiralty car which was taking ine to Dover contrived to effect a head-on collision with another motor. I he car was an open one, and Cooper, my R.F.C. servant, was thrown over my head, together with a lot of Admiralty and other gear. He found himself in a hedge and picked himself up slowly, thinking some of his ribs were broken. The driver and I managed to extricate ourselves from the telescoped front seats with some difficulty. I was badly shaken, but with the help of a friendly passing motorist we got to Ashford, where I hired another car to take us on. We arrived at Dover to find the boat leaving the harbour. There was nothing for it but to hurry on to New-haven, which we reached just in time to catch the packet to Dieppe.

After a very uncomfortable crossing, we arrived in Paris in the middle of the night, only to find the city in pitch darkness and an air raid in full progress. We crept across Paris in a horse cab to the Gare de Lyon and started at 6 a.m. by a slow train to Marseilles. It was an interminable journey and seemed like a nightmare to me. The train was full of sick and wounded, and crawled from station to station. At last we reached Marseilles, and luckily I found that the departure of the ship in which we were to proceed to Malta had been postponed for two days. We were both very sore and shaken after the accident, but were able to get ourselves overhauled by the ship's doctor, who assured us that no bones were broken. From Malta we were taken on to Imbros in a destroyer.

We reached G.H.Q. on August 6, the day on which the 10th and 11th Divisions landed at Suvla, a broad and shallow bay three miles north of Anzac. Had I arrived at the scheduled time I should have been able, as I had hoped, to take part in the operation. It had been admirably planned. Prior to the landing, the area had been surveyed from the air by an observer named Captain A. A. Walser, who had made careful sketches and photographs and reported that it was almost totally devoid of Turkish forces. The landing itself was made with little opposition. Twenty thousand men were put ashore in the darkness, and Chocolate Hill, the key to the position, could have been occupied without firing a shot on the morning of August 7. Unfortunately, however, Kitchener, disregarding Ian Hamilton's request for a young and energetic commander, had entrusted the operation to Sir Frederick Stopford, a veteran quite unsuited for this task.

V

The Failure at Suvla

Hamilton's intention was to take the enemy by surprise, cross the hills to Maidos, on the Narrows, and, in conjunction with the Helles and Anzac forces, cut off the Turks in the Peninsula. This done, the passage would be open for the ships, while the Army advanced along the road. Deprived of sea communication with Constantinople, the remainder of the Turkish force on the Peninsula would have been obliged to surrender, and Constantinople might conceivably have fallen. The element of surprise was achieved. The landing in the pitch darkness had been made good, and the ground to the north of the Bay cleared for the next attack. Having disembarked at midnight on August 6-7, instead of pushing on Slopford and his Staff wasted priceless time. The landing-place was a scene of confusion, and for twenty-four hours nothing was done. The Turks reached the foothills from Bulair and Chanak at midnight on the 8th-9th. The delay of a day spelled defeat.

The inertia of the Ninth Corps, it has been said, lost us the Gallipoli campaign. The troops at Anzac and Helles both did their part magnificently, and had Stopford at once seized the high ground in front of him in co-operation with the forces on his right the Turkish communications would have been severed. Our observers flying above the Suvla heights on the 7th were amazed to see no signs of our men, and on the following ciay they began to bring in ominous reports of large masses of Turkish troops being hurried across from the other side of the Straits and from the Bulair lines. When at last Stopford made up his mind to attack on the 9th the enemy had been strongly reinforced, and he was repulsed with heavy loss. We now know from the account published by General von Sanders that the Turks had only a battalion of gendarmerie in the Suvla area at the time, and the landing took them completely by surprise.

The final attack on the position did not take place until August 20, and by this time the enemy had brought up ample reinforcements, and the heights were held in force. I remember well the battle on August 20, the last, had we known it, to be fought for the possession of the Peninsula. Two days previously the famous 29th Division, commanded by de Lisle, had been brought over from Helles, and our planes had been up reconnoitring the enemy's position. The attack began at 2.30 p.m. as Hamilton thought we should have the advantage of the sun behind us. I was for a short time in Swiftsure with the Admiral, and the roar of the guns as battleships, gunboats, and monitors started to shell the position was deafening. I was specially interested, as among the attacking force was the 2nd Mounted Division under my old C.O., General Peyton. Much excitement was caused in Swiftsure when the track of a torpedo making straight for us was reported; but it passed without hitting. I landed and visited the various H.Q.'s and part of the front line to see better what we could do to give air assistance.

Unfortunately, things went wrong from the very start. The Turks had profited by the long delay to dig themselves well in, and a thick mist concealed their position. Our troops had to cross a broad open plain, known as the Salt Lake, before reaching the foothills, and came under heavy fire which they could not return. Many of the troops were only half-trained, and discipline was bad. In consequence, direction was lost, iind units became mixed up. After the foothills were reached the scrub was set on fire by the shells, and this made further confusion. Nor was the supporting attack from Anzac meeting with better success. Troops who had been some time on the Peninsula were unfit for the offensive, and though the two forces joined hands they were never able to drive the Turks off the crest of the ridge. When at last fighting was broken off on the 22nd none of our principal objectives had been gained. During the bitter August fighting one quarter of the whole Expeditionary Force was sacrificed to no purpose.

VI

Taking over Command

But I must return to my own particular work. My first duty was to take over command from Samson. This was an unpleasant task, and Samson was extremely hurt, but he worked loyally under me and gave me every possible support. I was very grateful to him. I found things in a terrible state of confusion. I had managed to get the Admiralty to send one or two officers with me, and also a few aeroplanes in packing-cases, but no tools to put them together had been included, and there were no spare parts, no instruments, and no portable sheds for the aircraft, no transport or motor-boats, no suitable flying clothing (a serious matter as the weather got colder), and not even a typewriter or stationery. Our first task was to 'wangle' materials from the various ships in order to start our headquarters, which we knocked up with the help of Greek labour. Then, as there was practically no lightering accommodation available, we made rafts and floated our crates ashore to a landing-stage, which also had to be improvised. After this we proceeded to construct the two aerodromes with the aid of Turkish prisoners—one at Kephalos Point and the other near to headquarters. This done, our heterogeneous forces were distributed as follows:

Aeroplane and Seaplane Wing (Kephalos)

1 aeroplane squadron for special duty, G.H.Q. (Kephalos).

1 aeroplane squadron for special duty (Helles).

1 seaplane squadron for submarine patrol and assisting Fleet (in Ark Royal and Ben-my-chree).

Kite-balloon Squadron (Kephalos)

3 kite-balloon sections for special duty (assisting Fleet).

1 gas ship.

Submarine and Scout Squadron (Kephalos)

2 flights for special duty (routine submarine patrolling and protection of firing ships).

1 gas ship and stores ship.

Mother Ship

Repair section; stores; photos; wireless; depot for officers passing through.

One of my chief difficulties was to obtain a supply of officers, but we gradually formed a first-rate Headquarters Staff. It was drawn from all sorts of units, but we soon shook down together and I could not have wished for a more loyal and keen set of officers.

C . N. Buzzard, a garrison gunner, who acted as D.A.Q.M.G., in addition to being very able at staff work, was a versatile companion, a painter and poet. After he left us he distinguished himself with the artillery at Caporetto, and I asked for his services on the Supreme War Council Staff at Versailles. He was a good French scholar, and after the war he married a French lady and went into business in Paris. P. R. C. Groves, for whom I had applied to be sent from France, was in charge of the Operations Branch. The Intelligence Department I put under E. A. O. A. Jamieson and O. W. Raikes. Both were very talented men. Jamieson was an Edinburgh architect, and he reverted to his profession at the end of the war. I saw him from time to time until his death a few years ago. Raikes had been on the Times staff. After the war he was one of the small band of officers who helped me to lay the foundations of civil aviation. Later he was employed by the Foreign Office at Geneva, where he died in 1933 of acute appendicitis. He was one of the ablest and most loyal of colleagues and a delightful friend.

J. H. Gibbon, well known as a rowing Blue and coach of the Oxford right, was a gunner from Helles. He acted as artillery observer, and was also employed in training officers for this duty. He returned to command his battery at Helles at the time of the evacuation, and was among the last to leave, having first shot his beloved horses with his own hand. We met later when he was driving a bus in the general strike of 1926. Lionel Guest, a very talented and delightful man, who was one of the younger brothers of the Guest family, was in charge of material. Frank Summers, a temporary officer of the Royal Marines, I entrusted with personnel. J. Kidston Allsopp, a civil engineer by profession, took over construction and did invaluable work in making aerodromes, jetties, shelters, and roads. Both he and Guest held commissions in thie R.N.Y.R.

Among the observers my most poignant memory is that of Erskine Childers. Childers was a brilliant officer and utterly fearless. Before the war he had been a keen amateur yachtsman, and had carried out, entirely on his own initiative, a daring reconnaissance of the German coast-line at the mouth of the Ems, which furnished the Admiralty with valuable information. He embodied his adventures in that fascinating story, The Riddle of the Sands. When war was declared he at once joined the R.N.A.S. and took a prominent part in the seaplane attack on the Schillig . . .