Gallipoli through journalists’ eyes

The Gallipoli Association recently hosted a Zoom talk by Jim Grundy, author of Hell and Confusion: Gallipoli Day by Day, Vol. 1: Alive With Death (Little Gully, 2024).

In this presentation, Jim explores how contemporary journalists shaped public understanding of the Gallipoli campaign.

Key questions explored in the talk:

• How were Britain’s wars reported before the Great War?

• What relationships existed between politicians, military officers, and newspaper proprietors?

• Were journalists “reflecting the truth—or journalism?”

• Did media coverage influence the campaign's outcome?

If you’re not a member of the Gallipoli Association, please consider joining. Membership starts from only £20 per year: visit www.gallipoli-association.org for further information.

THE FULL STORY: Journalism at Gallipoli

By Jim Grundy

Whoever originated the phrase that journalism was the first rough draft of history could have been thinking of Gallipoli. After all it was quite literally true for one of the pressmen there: Charles Bean, the man tasked, not only with reporting events as they happened, but compiling material for the Australian official history.

While not forgetting the Napoleonic dictum that it was necessary, “To lie like a bulletin,” the strong influence journalism had in shaping public perceptions of what took place cannot be denied. Indeed, older histories of the campaign state — as fact — that it was the actions of individual journalists that led to the decision to evacuate the peninsula. And not just historians, General Sir Ian Hamilton, the allied commander up to October 1915, maintained ever afterwards that he had not failed militarily but had lost political support because of the actions of Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett and Keith Murdoch.

We'll consider whether Hamilton had a point later. But let's take a step back and consider how the reporting of earlier campaigns revealed attitudes towards the Turks, as well as the relationship between the military, war correspondents and the newspaper proprietors who employed them.

In 1854 William Howard Russell went to the Crimea on behalf of The Times. Operating without censorship, but whose copy would take weeks, if not months, to reach London, he created the blueprint for the modern reporting of conflict. His description of the Battle of Balaclava made a powerful and lasting impression:

“To our inexpressible disgust, we saw the Turks in redoubt No. 2 fly at their approach. They ran in scattered groups across towards redoubt No. 3, and towards Balaklava; but the horse-hoof of the Cossack was too quick for them, and sword and lance were busily plied among the retreating herd. The yells of the pursuers and pursued were plainly audible.”¹

Russell failed to mention that by the time he, and the British Army, turned up on the scene, the Turks had already been holding out for hours against overwhelming odds. He neglected to notice that many of those who had retreated, rather than running away, reformed and played their part in repelling the Russian attack. However, Russell's readership were left in no doubt: the Turks were militarily incompetent — at best. And, adding insult to injury, Robert Gibbs' famous painting of 'The Thin Red Line,' though it depicted the 93^rd Highlanders, failed to show a single Turk. This, despite the fact that there were more Ottomans there than men in red coats.

By the end of Russell's career, in which he also covered the Indian Mutiny/Rebellion, the American Civil and Franco-Prussian wars, the pace of communications had increased dramatically. Russell had been witness to that, too, sailing aboard the steamship Great Eastern when it laid the first trans-Atlantic cable in July 1866 and was present at the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. Correspondents were then able to get to war zones more quickly and their reports from the most distant shores could be back in London sometimes within hours.

Technology was not the only thing that was changing. Sensation sells and some were happy to meet a growing appetite for graphic depictions of battle and its aftermath. The Daily Telegraph’s Bennet Burleigh² visited the battlefield of Tel-el-Kebir in Egypt in 1882, writing:

“I was by this time in close proximity to the battlefield of Wednesday, and some of the wounded were moaning even then in a pitiful way, having lain two days on the field. Nearer the Tel-el-Kebir camp the number of wounded were less, haying evidently been attended to and taken care of by our people, but the number of dead bodies was infinitely greater. It seemed impossible to take half a dozen steps without stumbling over a corpse. The stench from the battlefield after two days' hot sun was almost unbearable. It was with feelings of the greatest relief that at last I reached camp.”³

Army officers were increasingly employed by newspapers. They lent a professional eye to what they saw, while an indulgent British command was content to grant special leave for them to gather useful intelligence from foreign wars. However, when Captain (later Colonel) Lionel James sent back his copy about the 1895 relief of Chitral, he got this cable back in response:

“Increase the detail of the fighting, give the fullest detail of all disasters.”⁴

Cold facts and the absence of disasters did not sell ‘papers. Reality could be and was expected to be improved upon for public consumption. This journalistic taste for exaggeration might have irritated the Army when things were going well. It had the potential to be a much serious complaint when circumstances were less favourable.

The Second South African or Boer War had more than its fair share of disasters for journalists to feed upon. And, with the introduction of troops from the Dominions, a new dynamic was introduced that not every British commander cared to comprehend.

At Wilmansrust on the night of 12^th June 1901 a column of the 5th Victorian Contingent was ambushed by a Boer Commando, suffering significant casualties in the process. Their commanding officer, Colonel Stuart Beatson blamed the Victorians for the fiasco, describing them as a “fat-arsed, pot-bellied, lazy lot of wasters.”⁵ Noticing an Australian officer recording his comments, Beatson added, “You can add ‘dogs’ too.”⁶

As if that was not enough, when Beatson (pictured, standing behind the King’s right shoulder) saw some of the Australians taking pigs (with permission) from a Boer farm, said, “Yes, that's just about what you men are good for. When the Dutchmen came along the other night you didn't fix bayonets and charge them, but you go for something that can't hit back.”⁷

Failing to appreciate being ranked along with swine, and having just cause to feel that their commanders were every bit as responsible for the disaster, a number of the Victorians were heard to say that they would refuse to serve under Beatson's orders or those of any other British officer. Unfortunately for them, their comments were reported and three of their number were arrested and subsequently sentenced to death for mutiny. The resulting furore in Australia saw the story generate more press coverage than the case of 'Breaker' Morant (though it is far less familiar today, but that's a consequence of its portrayal in a film. That, however, is another story).

Kitchener, who had little time and less use for war correspondents, nevertheless appreciated the impact such affairs could have upon Imperial/Dominion relations and his own conduct of operations. He at first commuted and then quashed the convictions completely; the men went home. Kitchener also noted how differently one of his proteges handled Australian and New Zealand troops, filing that away for future reference, one William Birdwood.

The outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War in 1904 saw new technology raise further fears within military circles. Lionel James, who must have taken his earlier advice to heart, added innovation to his repertoire. After hiring a ship, one equipped with wireless, he was able to relay almost real time reports back to London about the progress of events. It was not just the speed of communication which the combatants were concerned about — it was not subject to any form of censorship on their part. Aside from the potential security risks this posed, there was a real probability that news of what had happened would be available publicly long before the commanders on the spot had been able to put together a version of events that showed them in the most favourable light, especially to their own superiors. Which military could tolerate that?

But, while some saw only threats, others eventually tumbled to the opportunities available by using the media for their own purposes. Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett was one of war correspondents covering the campaign.

“When only a remnant of the original band remained, the Japanese Government suddenly awoke to the fact that they were deliberately failing to make use of this great weapon of free propaganda to advertise their cause — just when they most required the financial assistance of Europe. Then, “As if by stroke of the enchanter’s wand,” the Correspondents found themselves no longer outcasts unwanted and ignored, but honoured guests whose presence in the field was regarded as essential to the success of the Japanese cause.”⁸

Ashmead-Bartlett was also present during the Balkan Wars. His comments on the performance of the Ottoman military were to make a lasting impact.

“Whole battalions and brigades of ignorant peasants from Anatolia were sent to Constantinople, dressed up in khaki, handed a rifle, some hundreds of rounds of ammunition, kits which they hardly knew how to fit to their backs, counted at the railway station with glee by the authorities, and officially described as “our invincible infantry.”

“Thousands of these men had never had a Mauser rifle in their hands, and had to be shown how to use it under the enemy’s fire. Entire battalions, unused to this new arm, and never having been trained to shoot, would loose off all their ammunition in a short hour, and only hit the ground fifty yards in front of them, inflicting absolutely no damage on the enemy.

“I never saw a single Turkish machine-gun in action, and if they exist I do not know what became of them.”⁹

The accuracy of such reporting was not the principal concern, albeit it for very different reasons, for newspaper proprietors, political leaders or military and naval commanders. And, three days after Bennet Burleigh died, one newspaper felt this represented the end of an era, the “Passing of the War Correspondent” on 20^th June 1914.

“The death of that famous war correspondent, Bennet Burleigh, marks the close of the “war-correspondence period,” which began [with] Dr. William Howard Russell...

“The element of surprise being... vitally important... no general can be expected to look with equanimity, upon a band of war correspondents who may telegraph the movements of his troops to the leading newspapers of the world, where the enemy can read all about them next morning...

“The application of radio-telegraphy... renders it impossible for any Commander-in-chief to run the risk of tolerating war correspondents at the scene of action. Consequently it may be expected that the next war will be fought in the dark as far as the non-combatant public is concerned...

“The facilities of communication and of news transmission have increased so greatly since Dr. Russell went to the Crimea, that the survivors of the battle of the future will be the swift bearers of sure intelligence concerning it.”¹⁰

Eight days later Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, were killed in Sarajevo. The biggest 'story' of all was about to unfold. Would the Telegraph's forecast prove accurate?

On 4^th August 1914, as soon as war was declared between France and Germany, the French barred journalists from the war zones. Regular bulletins would be provided to the Press and these would provide the information the newsmen required. Needless to say, this did not go down well.

The pace of events now proved a little too quick for some newspaper proprietors. Lord Northcliffe, the owner of The Times and Daily Mail, who, at different times told his readers that France and Germany was Britain's national enemy, seemed unclear about the limits of his own influence on 5^th August 1914.

“What is this I heard about a British Expeditionary Force for France? It is nonsense. Not a single soldier shall leave this country... I will not support the sending out of this country of a single British soldier... Put that in the leader. Do you hear? Not a single soldier will go with my consent. Say so in the paper to-morrow.”¹¹

Speaking on behalf of the Admiralty and War Office in Parliament on 7^th August 1914, Winston Churchill announced the establishment of the Press Bureau, a central clearing house for war reporting.

“I should like to say there are a great many disconcerting rumours which have been spread about. These rumours arise from the fact that the Censorship of the Press at present is of a very strict kind — (cheers) — from the point of view of saying aye or no to any particular piece of military information. I think, as a consequence of that, newspapers in the absence of facts are rather inclined to fill up their columns with gossip which reaches them from irresponsible quarters along the coast, where a great deal of apprehension in the minds of individuals prevails.

“We are establishing to-day a Press bureau over which Mr. F. E. Smith will preside. From the bureau a stream of trustworthy information will be supplied by both the War Office and the Admiralty. This will be information which can be given to the Press without injury to naval or military interests, and will serve to keep the country properly and truthfully informed from day to day of what can be told and what is fair and reasonable, thus providing as much truth as possible, while excluding the growth of irresponsible information.”¹²

Unsurprisingly, newsmen chafed at the limits placed upon their profession. This did not stop all reporting, and men like Philip Gibbs and Hamilton Fyfe did manage to send reports back from France and Flanders. And the Press Bureau, referred to by some of the 'Suppress Bureau,' was not above adding the odd line to such reports to encourage readers at home to volunteer; too much reassurance could, after all, make men complacent when it came to answering their country's call.

Another measure, on 7^th September 1914, was the appointment of one of the Army's own, Colonel Ernest Swinton, to produce more controlled fare. Writing under the name of Eye Witness, his work was better-informed and more accurate than some were to give him credit for later.

“The growing resemblance of this battle to a siege warfare has already been pointed out. The fact that the late actions of the Russo-Japanese war assumed a similar character was thought by many to have been due to exceptional causes.... Nevertheless, a similar situation has been produced, owing... to the immense power of resistance possessed by an army which is amply equipped with heavy artillery and has sufficient time to fortify itself.”¹³

Unsurprisingly, this cut no ice with the likes of Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett.

“An experiment was tried of having an Official Eye Witness attached to Headquarters, a professional officer, whose duty it was to write charming stories of how our soldiers lived when they were not fighting, of their humanity towards women and children, and to relate those funny anecdotes about armies, which have changed but little since the days of Julius Caesar, Such thin fare only interested the public for a short time, and entirely failed to arouse the nation to a sense of the seriousness of the struggle in which it was engaged.”¹⁴

Though, as Maurice Hankey, the Secretary of the Committee of Imperial Defence, recorded on 20^th October 1914, Swinton was able to look further than the next newspaper headline.

“Ernie Swinton has described the beginning on October 20^th, 1914, when he came to my room at the C.I.D. and spoke of the stalemate on the western front, which he attributed to the combined effects of barbed wire and machine guns. In that account he reminds me of the Holt caterpillar tractor and suggested its adaptation to the elaboration of a military machine and I expect he is right.”¹⁵

Invited to send one official correspondent to accompany their newly-raised force, in Australia Charles Bean was appointed to the position on 26^th September 1914. His brief, as mentioned previously, went beyond providing reports of ongoing events but to gather information with a view to compiling an official history of their doings.

Matters progressed more slowly in New Zealand, the process of appointing someone to the post not beginning until the following February. The man who would become their counterpart to Bean, Malcolm Ross, accompanied the force sent to occupy Samoa. He also saw off his son, L/Cpl Noël Ross, Canterbury Battalion, when he boarded HMNZT Arawa on 14^th October 1914.

“The pater is a funny old bird, isn't he? When he had talked a bit to me about keeping my nut down when it wasn't wanted up, he said he had a lot of writing to do for to-morrow's English mail. Then he shook hands rather hurriedly and went down the gangway and along the wharf without even once looking back. His figure faded into a mist as he got near the end, and I had to take a pull on myself and talk hard to mater, who had not gone ashore.

“She only had about another ten minutes on board, and we talked of everything but war or going away. Dear old mater! She went through my kit seriatim, and gave me advice as to my wardrobe as if I was travelling like a prince. As a matter of fact my wardrobe now consists of about two shirts and four pair of socks. Neither of us felt too cheery, but mater is the bravest little woman in the world, and she kissed me and went down on to the wharf with the cheeriest of smiles on her face. She waited for a while at the barrier and waved.”¹⁶

Ross would reach Egypt in May 1915. By that time Bean was already on the peninsula. But he had made a name for himself long before then, though not quite as he would have wished. On 29^th December 1914 he had expressed concerns about the conduct of some Australians.

“The last week has been one of some anxiety to those who have the good name of Australia at heart. Cairo is one of the great pleasure resorts of the world, and a place where the soldiers in any neighboring camp can always have a reasonably enjoyable time during their hours of leave, provided they exercise the same amount of restraint as the ordinary tourist; but certain scenes have occurred and have become more common during the past few days which go a good way beyond that, and which are already affecting the reputation of Australia in the outside world. It is idle to contend that the Australian is at present making quite the impression which Australians hope he will make either on civilians or upon the great soldiers under whose eyes they come. I was speaking the other day to one of the most distinguished men in the British army. “They are as fine a body physically as I have ever seen,” he said. “But do all Australians drink quite so much?”...

“.... they are losing Australia her good name in the outside world, and those Australians who happen to be living in Cairo or in touch with the world outside the camps have the mortification of looking on while day by day the reputation of Australia slowly vanishes before the actions of a handful of rowdies who do not really represent the country.”¹⁷

Any attempt on his part to explain that his remarks were not a reflection on the entire AIF were unconvincing to some. Eventually, William Hughes, the Australian Prime Minister, made a statement on 21^st January 1915.

“I read with a great deal of concern Mr. Bean's statement as to the conduct of some of our troops in Egypt. It is no doubt a very serious matter, but I should be more concerned if I believed such conduct fairly reflected the code of the Expeditionary Force generally. I don't believe it does for a moment.”¹⁸

But a month later the anger had not dissipated. Writing on 21^st February 1915, Tpr Alexander Morrison, 4^th Australian Light Horse Regiment, said some men still wanted words with Bean.

“One of the boys from the 8^th battalion has just been in our mess room, and he says that a number of the lads from his battalion have gone to Cairo to hunt up the war reporter Bean, who wrote those letters home about the troops, and if they catch him they will duck him in every horse trough in Cairo. They will not stop until he is found.”¹⁹

Even a fellow journalist, a man serving in the ranks, failed to give Bean the benefit of the doubt, L/Cpl William Fry,²⁰ 6th Battalion, AIF, writing on 2^nd March 1915.

“All the officers are up in arms, and scarcely a good word is heard for the correspondent, who in his official capacity, felt obliged to enlighten the people of Australia upon the actions of their Force. Threats of violence to the scribe have been uttered by the more turbulent spirits, but it is the innocent individual who feels most keenly that the injustice is rankling. Some parties are in favor of asking that Captain Bean should sever all connections with the Force, because this unwarrantable course of action has caused the troops to lose confidence in the relator of news.”²¹

Bean may well have been exasperated by the reaction to his article but maintained he had reported nothing more than the truth. However, what he was told on 14^th March 1915 was of far more concern to him.

“Birdwood... has received the answer that “press correspondents are not to leave Cairo at present.” That means that the British Government or War Office is determined to treat me as any other Press Correspondent and of course it is a slight to Australia — though I don't suppose they realise it — that the man the Australian Government chose to send with their force to give some sort of account of it should be treated by the War Office as if they couldn't see any difference between him and the correspondent of any English newspaper.”²²

The explanation of what he interpreted as different treatment according to a correspondent's nationality was actually more prosaic. Bean was answerable to the War Office, to Kitchener. Kitchener treated all journalists in like manner; could not care less where they were from. British correspondents already on their way to the Dardanelles faced no similar barrier, not because of who they were but the identity of who they reported to, to the Admiralty, to Winston Churchill. A former war correspondent himself, Churchill was very keen to see them on the scene of his expected triumph, as Ashmead-Bartlett, one of first two British journalists sent to report on the campaign, later wrote.

“But the Dardanelles Expedition was the conception of an old War Correspondent of renown, and a politician of foresight and experience, Mr. Winston Churchill, He made his name on the north-west frontier of India, in the Sudan, and finally in South Africa; and no one was in a better position to appreciate the value of the Press as a weapon of propaganda... He possessed the imagination and the experience to realise that an expedition of this magnitude could only be carried through with public opinion behind it. Therefore, when it was proposed that the Press should be represented at the Dardanelles, he whole-heartedly took up the cudgels on its behalf. The “Newspaper Proprietors’ Association,” which carried on all negotiations with the authorities, was informed that two Correspondents would be allowed to accompany the Expedition, one to represent the London Newspapers, and the other from Reuter’s Agency for the Provincial Press.”²³

Bean need not have feared. He met General Sir Ian Hamilton, the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, at the end of March.

“I saw him immediately after breakfast. He told me that he believed a pressman could do the necessary press work in war better than an “Eyewitness”. There are points a pressman would notice of great interest to the public and perfectly harmless which eyewitness is apt to miss. He thought that as we had this Eastern show in English hands the Government would let the people have a little more information — or rather would give the journalist a little more scope. In France as one consequence of that “damnable question”, he said, “I don't mean a system of compulsory service like you have” — they can simply tell the people to go hang — they don't trouble whether they need news or not.”²⁴

Hamilton, who had spoken of the hypocrisy of some of his fellow officers in their attitude towards journalists, understood that they were there to be used. He had been placed in charge of a secondary theatre of operations and he was quite prepared to make use of the Press if he felt it necessary to get the kind of political backing that positive newspaper coverage could deliver for him. English, Australian, Peruvian, it was all the same to him.

While all this had been going, the Anglo-French fleet had been failing to force a passage through the Dardanelles. What journalists wrote about the attempt being made without support from a military force, about the Turks and what foreign correspondents actually present at the Dardanelles, is very revealing.

Henry Stead, a British journalist, wrote on 11^th March 1915 about the need for an army to occupy both shore of the Dardanelles.

“It is certain that a great number of soldiers will be needed before the warships force the Dardanelles and advance to Constantinople. The aeroplane and the long range gun have made the forcing of this narrow strait possible by ships alone without the assistance from land forces. But once the passage is accomplished it becomes imperative to occupy both sides of it in great force, otherwise the Turks might again win possession and cut off the ships which have ventured out into the sea of Marmora. It will not be difficult to clear the Gallipolitan peninsula of the enemy, but strong forces would be needed to hold the Asiatic shore against attack from the land side.”²⁵

Not everyone shared Stead's view. Two days later, Fred T. Jane, the founder of Jane's Naval Review, derided the opposition the fleet would face.

“We have a certain number of ships which we can spare for these operations, ships which we could lose without jeopardising our naval superiority. This — coupled with the fact that the enemy are not a brainy folk — makes the Dardanelles effort possible.”²⁶

Neither Bean nor Ashmead-Bartlett witnessed the defeat of the naval attempt to force the Dardanelles on 18^th March 1915. (George) Ward Price, of the Daily Mail, later Hitler's favourite British journalist, described the shock of seeing the Bouvet slide beneath the waves. He might have been more surprised to discover, while superficially impressive, how ineffective the bombardment of the forts had been. No allied journalist would get that perspective but the American, George Schreiner, was shown around shortly afterwards.

“The damage done by the bombardment of four days ago is hardly what I had expected. Fort Dardanos has had a miraculous escape. There is a small dent in Turret No. 1. Turret No. 3 was struck by a shell fragment near the gunport. As a result of that the gun could no longer be elevated or lowered. But a little work with a steel saw fixed that. No. 5 turret is slightly damaged near the base...

“The most remarkable thing is the Turkish list of casualties — twenty-three Turks and Germans dead, and seventy-eight wounded. Many of these are civilians.

“Considering that the Allies employed in the bombardment 276 guns larger than six inches this is not much of a showing. According to the Turks and Germans, the Allies used over 8,500 shells larger than six inches.”²⁷

Some British writers still sought refuge in the infallibility of British arms but not everyone did. Arnold White, though confident of ultimate victory, could still write on 29^th March 1915.

“In our loose national habit of not thinking things out, to be cocksure is counted as manly. It is not. Forcing the Dardanelles against modern mines and guns inspires awe in the mind of students of history... We shall get through — of that there it no doubt — but the cost of getting through may darken many British homes, and quench the light of many women’s eyes. Students of naval history are amazed at the courage of the Admiralty and the Cabinet in sanctioning the Dardanelles operations. I do not wish to be cocksure, but so far as one’s reading goes, and so far as one can gather the views of those who really know, there has never been anything like it since the world began for naval audacity, hardihood, and intrepidity in taking such immeasurable risks. The attempt to force the Dardanelles against modern guns and modern mines stands alone.”²⁸

By then some of the infantry had already left for Lemnos. The same day White was writing of his awe at the task before them, Tpr Clifford Halloran,²⁹ 6th Australian Light Horse Regiment, a former journalist, only thought of excitement.

“Just now there is a joyous rumor in the camp here to the effect that we will be on our way to the front shortly. That rumor has been circulating for three days, and has been the cause of much happiness. Egypt is interesting — that is to say, the relics of ancient civilisation are interesting, and Cairo is fascinating for a while — but when you have seen the sights the country is too dead and flat and monotonous to grip you. There is hardly a man in the camp who would not rejoice if we were to start packing at once.”³⁰

Pte Alexander McLauchlan,³¹ Wellington Battalion, formerly of the Gisborne Times, described their journey from Egypt to Lemnos.

“We passed several islands, large and small, on our way over the sea, and finally we came to our rendezvous on a picturesque and cultivated little island, off which there lay scores of transports from many ports, and great grey fighting ships, monitors guarding those who had come to fight, with destroyers and mine draggers running to and fro like many-pointed. combs clearing the sea of what might he lurking there. There were avenues of some of Britain’s best fighting ships, and one particularly big one, mounted with the new 15-inch guns. More of this place I am not permitted to say, except that we got ashore on the island on occasions and had pleasant times there.”³²

Others were less sanguine about their prospects following the failed naval assault. Howell Gwynne, the Editor of the Morning Post, wrote to Herbert Asquith, the British Prime Minister, on 22^nd April 1915.

“When I had the honour of writing to you on October 16, 1914 regarding the Antwerp expedition, I pointed out to you that I did not consider the First Lord of the Admiralty a man who should be in charge of the Fleet during this war. I considered that the Antwerp expedition thoroughly justified this opinion, and the recurrence of the same lack of study, the same desire to rush in without due preparation, and the same ignorance of strategic and tactical principles in the Dardanelles expedition confirms this opinion. What I ventured to prophesy in October has come to pass in March, and it is for the Government over which you preside to consider whether the First Lord of the Admiralty should continue to hold that office.”³³

It was not the last time a journalist would write directly to Asquith. But, for now, the die was cast.

Other journalists told of their personal experiences of 25^th April 1915. Pte Cecil Yorke, Canterbury Battalion, approached the Gallipoli peninsula aboard HMT Lutzow early before dawn that morning.

“At one o clock in the morning we weighed anchor in the harbour and sailed... A couple of hours later we began to bear the distant booming of the guns, and knew that our destination was not far away. It was still dark, however, and there was considerable time before reveille. As day broke, we found ourselves steaming slowly across a vast expanse of smooth water with ships in sight on every side. Many glasses were turned on to the line of bombarding battleships, which extended along the coast as far as we could see.”³⁴

Pte John Kerr, 5^th Battalion, AIF, told of severe casualties, with officers and non-commissioned officers being particularly affected.

“The whole country side was strewn with scrub, and we could not tell where the fire was coming from. It was a perfect hell, and lasted all day and night. They told us our casualties (that is dead and wounded) amounted to ------- and while I think it was more, that alone tells its tale. An old soldier here — who was through the South African and South American war — said he never saw anything like it in his life, how anyone escaped was a mystery, for the gunners had the ranges accurately, and knew exactly where we were and only way which we could go. The poor old fifth suffered terribly. Almost the whole of our officers and nearly all our nomcoms were wiped out, but the men behaved magnificently. Never let anyone decry the fighting abilities of the Australian soldier. Even when their officers and section commanders were gone, and though they knew an almost certain death awaited them, they filled the gaps in the “line” and calmly awaited the end.”³⁵

It would take weeks, in some cases months, before these personal accounts appeared in the newspapers. The first to tell of the landing at what became known as Anzac Cove was that written by Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett. It was published in Australia on and after 7^th May.

“All the tows had almost reached the beach when a party of Turks, entrenched almost on the shore, opened up terrible fusillade from rifles and also from a Maxim. Fortunately, most of the bullets went high, but nevertheless many men were hit as they sat huddled together, 40 or 50 in a boat... The Turks in this first trench were bayoneted or ran away, and a Maxim gun was captured. They then found themselves facing an almost perpendicular cliff of loose sandstone.”³⁶

As Brigadier Chris Roberts has observed, “it was written in a heroic, sensational style designed to stir public sentiment and boost morale, and captured the hearts of Australians and New Zealanders alike. The inaccuracies woven through the account uncorrected to find their way into the mythology of the battle, and many have been handed down as accepted fact for the best part of a century.”³⁷

Where was Charles Bean? He had landed around 10.00 a.m., approximately 12 hours before his British colleague. But, though supported by Hamilton, Birdwood and Bridges, he was not officially sanctioned to report from Gallipoli until 2^nd May. By his own account, this delay was due to unexplained issues between the Admiralty and G.H.Q., which appears practically perverse given Churchill's and Hamilton's active encouragement for correspondents to ply their trade. Bean later wrote how,

“It was at Anzac on April 28, three days after the landing that I first heard, not without a pang of jealousy, that another war correspondent had been moving about the Anzac area. I came upon his tracks when climbing the steep, then only half-made, footpath up Walker's Ridge. My permission to write for the newspapers had not then come through from the Admiralty (or rather it had reached G.H.Q., but had not yet been sent on to me); and I been put ashore at the landing solely by the kindness and courtesy of Sir Ian Hamilton and General Bridges, with leave to go where I liked and take notes, but not to write a word for the Australian Press. And here was some outsider who would be well ahead of me with his despatches, working over the area that I was already beginning to know fairly well. He had been ashore also on the night of the 25th, but I had not heard of him.”³⁸

Bean's frustration can be imagined. However, he was unstinting with his praise for his colleague's prose, while furnishing an early example of, to paraphrase a 1980's comedy, Bean's penchant to describe every Digger as being six foot six, with biceps the size of Brisbane.

“A week or two later the incoming newspapers from Alexandria brought his first brilliant cable message describing the landing, and one's envy was at once swallowed up in admiration. It was a magnificent despatch — probably the finest of its kind ever penned by a war correspondent... Bartlett, by his own wish, watching the Australians and New Zealanders at Gaba Tepe, and [Lester] Lawrence the British at Cape Helles. Why Bartlett chose to follow the Australians I never knew — whether it was that he could not or did not wish to desert his friends in the London, which was to carry our 11^th Battalion; or whether he hoped that the Anzac battlefield would be easier to watch, being hilly and less obscured by shell smoke: or whether he saw special interest in the first performance of these untried colonial soldiers whose physique he greatly admired — I do not know. Whatever the reason, it was good luck for the Australians, though bad luck for Lawrence.”³⁹

On 26^th April, L/Cpl Noel Ross, Canterbury Battalion, described the sight of dead and wounded members of 7^th Battalion, AIF, near Fishermen's Hut.

“On our left along the beach about half a mile, a boat, sunk in the surf, rocked uneasily. With the aid of a glass I could see its freight. Sitting upright were at least eight dead men, and on the beach another twenty. A sailor, distinguishable by his white cap cover, lay in an attitude strangely lifelike, his chin resting on his hand, his face turned to our position. The next afternoon I casually turned my glasses on the pathetic group, and saw that the sailor was now lying on his back with his face to the sky. There was no mistake : he had been alive, and perhaps even now, after lying there nearly thirty-six hours, he was still alive. I was destined to get yet another thrill. In the centre of the heap on the beach there was some movement.

“And then I saw distinctly a khaki cap waving weakly, and presently a man detached himself from the group and hobbled slowly towards us along the beach. Immediately the snipers started afresh.”⁴⁰

Pte Arthur Brewer, 15^th Battalion, AIF, described his own painful experience.

“The concussion became too much for me on the Monday night (April 26), and I went stone-blind. So far as I could make out, a shell hit me fairly on the head — that was the sensation. The great flame from the shell scorched my eyes, and the shell itself, bursting just above me, killed some chaps behind me. An officer put me in a trench we had captured, but a shell blew it in — simply lifted the side of the structure, or, rather gutter, and planked it down on my back. I thought my spine was cracked.”⁴¹

A brief Press Bureau statement was released on the evening of 26^th April confirmed that the landings had been made but gave little details. The following day the Morning Post repeated the charges its editor, Howell Gwynne, made in his letter to Asquith:

“The Morning Post... refers the attempt of the Navy to force the Dardanelles without co-operation with the Army, and who is responsible for this costly blunder, costly whether the present operations succeeds or fails. We assert, the journal proceeds, that the First Lord of the Admiralty acted against the opinion of his experts. We assert, further, that he led the Cabinet to believe that he had behind him the opinion of Lord Fisher, whereas Lord Fisher's opinion was that the operation, to have a chance of success, must be conducted jointly the Army and Navy. These are serious charges. There is no question of Cabinet responsibility, because the Cabinet did not know the truth. But, in any event, these times are much too serious for Ministers to found themselves upon Constitutional conventions. The truth that Mr. Winston Churchill is a danger this country. Lord Fisher is not responsible, and Lord Kitchener is not responsible, but we warn them that they, too, unless they make timely protest, will be held to share in the discredit and responsibility. The time is for them speak out now, and have done with this appalling danger of amateur interference with the man at the wheel.”⁴²

To find out what was going on Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett spent time discussing progress with senior military and naval officers. On 29^th April 1915 he was a guest of Captain Hughes 'Tubby' Lockyer, RN, aboard HMS Implacable.

“This was my first introduction to the famous Captain “Tubby” Lockyer, one of the best-known characters in the Navy, of whom I had heard so much... He is a terrible man for sitting up late, and your only chance of ever getting to bed is to sneak out quietly without saying “Good night,” otherwise you are certain to be collared for “just one more.” This being my first evening, there was no escape, and it was 3 a.m. before I got to bed, having had far more drink than was good for me.”⁴³

There is more than a little irony involved here, as Ashmead-Bartlett was far from averse to keeping himself comfortable. Lockyer's taste for drink was to ultimately cost him his career, after being found drunk while in charge of his ship in July 1917.

Charles Bean's approach was very different. He explained to a fellow journalist back in Australia how he went about his work.

“The only way this job could be properly done was from the shore, on the scene of the events themselves. From the first, even before we left Lemnos, I knew this would mean getting in the stuff later than the other correspondents, but they did not want the same stuff as I did, which was the Australian and New Zealand stuff, and that could not be got in any other way. The goods were not really the same goods, and so I decided from the first that I would have to lump the lateness and simply go steadily ahead writing the Australasian stuff. The others had to be in the ships to do their work properly, making visits first to this place and then to that. They got right up into it, too, but I think you chaps may take it that no pressman has been more in the thick of it than your representative.”⁴⁴

Pte Cecil Yorke, Canterbury Battalion, was not at risk of a hangover. On 30^th April he contrasted the ugliness of what they were subjected to with the beauty of their surroundings.

“The country where we landed on the Gallipoli Peninsula is wild and picturesque, admirable for defence, difficult for invaders. The enemy had to be driven inland and clear of a series of high scrub-covered hills and deep gullies. The climate is pleasant. The nights, even if cold and chilly, are followed by warm days of bright sunshine, in which normally it would be a delight to live. It seems so unnatural that men should kill one another where Nature is so lovely.”⁴⁵

The East Lancashire Division began to arrive at Helles during the first week of May. It was immediately committed to the Second Battle of Krithia. Formerly a reporter for Rochdale Times, Pte Thomas Heywood, 1/6^th Bn Lancashire Fusiliers, sent home an account of their first action beginning on 6^th May 1915.

“They were in action from 11 o'clock in the morning until dusk, and during the whole of that period had to face a murderous fire.

“The enemy poured shell, machine-gun, and rifle fire upon the advancing party on a parallel with a deluge of hail.

“Our lads have the distinction of being the first Lancashire Territorials to go into action, and have received unstinted praise for the way they conducted themselves. They displayed remarkable courage and dash.

“As could only be expected there were many casualties, but of these only 12 per cent. were killed. Considering the heavy fire they had to face the losses are decidedly few.”⁴⁶

So far, so Press Bureau. But within the same piece Heywood's tone changes.

“Both officers and men are quieter than a week ago. Then they were in a high state of excitement. They had longed for the day to arrive and it was at hand. Now it has passed and more are to follow.

“War after all is not that glorious thing pictured by novelists. It is a horrible business, and the sooner it finishes the better. Don't imagine we are funking. To a man we are proud to be here. So long as our country needs us we are eager to serve her. It is the day when she does not need us that we look forward to.”⁴⁷

Ashmead-Bartlett met one man not so easily discouraged on 8^th May 1915.

“Hunter-Weston was, as usual, the embodiment of optimism and seemed absolutely certain of success. He assured me he would take Krithia this afternoon, and possibly Achi Baba, but if there was no time for both, he will take Achi Baba on the following day. I quite fail to see on what his optimism is based.”⁴⁸

Henry Nevinson, a veteran British war correspondent, described the advance of 2^nd Australian Brigade, transferred from Anzac to Helles, on 8^th May 1915.

“The ground was open, and their appearance was at once greeted by the roar of rifles, machine-guns and field-guns, which the bombardment had again utterly failed to silence. The Australians, though heavily laden with packs, shovels, picks, and entrenching tools, and exposed to intense fire, pressed on, rush after rush, their Brigadier directing and encouraging by waving a stick in front. Without a sight of their deadly enemy, they advanced over 800 yards, the support battalions joining up into the bayonet line.”⁴⁹

Charles Bean made clearer what “joining up into the bayonet line” meant.

“400 yards ahead was the British firing trench, the most advanced firing position yet reached, but not yet connected by communication trenches. That fire trench when reached was only a scrap of cover in 1200 yards, the whole plateau being covered by low growth not higher than the men's feet... The Australians may trust these facts. I write only what I have seen or know to be true.”⁵⁰

And it was during this advance, still behind the British front line, where Bean's conduct altered attitudes towards him. Lt Thomas Hastie, 5^th Battalion, AIF, who was wounded on 8^th May, wrote from hospital in Malta praising Bean.

“When the combined Australian and New Zealand troops went into action in the attempt to storm Krithia Captain Bean, although a non-combatant, and armed only with pencil and notebook, went into the trenches with the officers and men. He was in the firing line throughout the whole action, in company with the headquarters staff, and was as much exposed to danger as anyone. But, remarkably, although not a single officer on the staff escaped injury, Captain Bean was untouched. Some were killed, and all the others wounded, but the plucky — and lucky — war correspondent did not receive a scratch.”⁵¹

2/Lt George James,⁵² 8^th Battalion, AIF, also wounded at Helles, having read reports of the fighting from his hospital bed in Alexandria, praised Bean's journalism.

“As regards our doings, Captain Bean's articles are absolutely reliable. Much of what is written by other individuals appears to be full of confused ideas and of the far-too-common figure of speech — hyperbole.”⁵³

After Major-General Sir William Throsby Bridges' death from wounds on 18^th May, Bean paid his tribute.

“... he treated me throughout as one of his staff except in this, that he gave me no orders & left me to write & do what I pleased... I obtained a chance such as no journalist in this war, or probably any other, has had of going absolutely where he liked... without any restriction so long as I was with our own troops.”⁵⁴

If Bridges was praised for his openness, this was not something Ashmead-Bartlett believed to be a common characteristic, writing on 19^th May.

“I feel certain the Military Authorities out here are concealing the truth from the Authorities at home and that they will not tell them the real facts about the situation because they are afraid they will be withdrawn altogether and then goodbye to KCBs, KCMGs and all the other damned Gs and Peerages they have in mind. But this is only plaing [sic] with a great question when the whole safety of your country is at stake. But our leaders in the field are very little men. That is the trouble.”⁵⁵

The same day Ashmead-Bartlett was writing, the Turkish attack at Anzac was beaten off with the loss of around 11,000 casualties. One journalist serving in the ranks, Sgt Frederick Elworthy, 1st Australian Light Horse Regiment, did not write of the pity of war.

“The morning the Turks charged all along the line was the 'best ever,' and they left between 3000 and 4000 dead in front of our trenches. I'm not exactly callous, but I will admit I was delighted with the slaughter.”⁵⁶

Readers back in Lancashire learned that it rained heavily in more places than Manchester. Pte Thomas Heywood, 1/6th Bn Lancashire Fusiliers, described the downpour on 25^th May 1915.

“The day opened gloomily, but towards noon the sun peeped out and there was every promise of a delightful afternoon. So it proved to be until about five o'clock, when it began to rain. Most of us were having tea when the first drop fell. “A sunshine shower,” said one. “Don't bother about overcoats; it'll be over in a minute.” Two minutes later there was a stampede for oil sheets and overcoats, as drops of rain the size of florins, and plenty of them, began to fall. The sun had disappeared and the sky had darkened, and in five minutes our trenches were ankle deep in water and we were all soaked to the skin.

“Still the downpour continued. Inch by inch the water in the trenches rose, until at last we were obliged to leave them and take shelter behind bushes or any other cover. What a chance the enemy missed! But I suppose they were in a similar predicament. In spite of the uncongenial conditions we had to smile, and plenty of banter passed from one to the other. The land all around us was covered with water; the ground immediately in front of our line was like a miniature lake. The storm lasted about a couple of hours, and the depth of water in our trenches was about a couple of feet.”⁵⁷

There were other ways of getting wet. Ashmead-Bartlett discovered this on 27^th May when Kapitänleutnant Otto Hersing, commanding U-21, attacked HMS Majestic.

“The hit must have been very low down, as there was no shock from it felt on deck. The old Majestic immediately gave a jerk towards port, and remained with a heavy list; then there came a sound as if the contents of every pantry in the world had fallen at the same moment, a clattering such as I had never heard, as everything loose in her tumbled about. I could tell at once that she had been mortally wounded somewhere in her vitals, and felt instinctively she would not long stay afloat...

“I made no long stay on the net-shelf, but at once rebounded into the sea and went under, I came up at once still holding my useless belt, and, having got some of the water out of my eyes, took a look round. The sea was crowded with men swimming about and calling for assistance. I think that many of these old reservists, who formed the majority of the crew, had forgotten how to swim, or else had lost all faith in their own powers. A few yards from me I saw a boat, towards which everyone in the water seemed to be making. She was already packed with men while others were hanging on to her gunwale. I swam towards her, mixed up with a struggling crowd, and managed to get both hands firmly on her, but found it impossible to drag myself on board. I looked round at the Majestic, which was lying only a few yards away at an acute angle, and I remember thinking that, if she turned right over, our boat would probably be dragged under her. It is very tiring work hanging on with both hands with your feet trailing in the water in a strong current, and I was beginning to think whether it would be wiser to let go and swim away, when my right foot caught in what is known as a “man-grip”. This is a small slit in the keel which enables you to hold on in the event of the boat turning over. This gave me a lot of additional support, and I felt much more comfortable. A minute later, or even less, a sailor leaned over the side, seized me by the shoulders and dragged me inside.”⁵⁸

U-21 was not the only submarine in the area. But news of the British E11 took more time to reach the press. On 24^th May one American journalist, Frederick Swing, was sailing down the Marmora aboard the Turkish vessel Nagara when he saw E11 appear alongside.

“I thought we were about to be blown up, and I was terribly frightened. The suspense was insupportable. I could now see the submarine bearing down on us. A man was bent over a large wheel, which he was cranking. Beside him was a man in a white sweater with a rifle. That explained the “pings” we had heard. He had been firing to bring us to a halt. And in this he succeeded, for the engine bells sounded, we slowed stopped...

“I tried to make out what he was saying... I put my hands to my mouth and shouted:... “Will you give us time to get into the boats?”... “Yes, and be... quick about it!”... I shouted to the submarine... “Can you give us a minute?”... By now the submarine was not twenty yards away, and the commander did not have to shout his reply. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I will give you time.” Then he asked me: “Who are you?”... “I am Raymond Swing of the Chicago Daily News.”... I told the commander the name of the ship was the Nagara. “Where bound?” he asked. “Chanak Kalessi,” I replied. “What is your cargo?”... “I am a newspaper correspondent...and I don't ask about such things...

“Your boat is launched. Better get in.” I saluted the submarine commander and thanked him. He returned the salute. I had one last look around. I was not unaware that I was the last person to be leaving the ship... I slid down the rope and dropped into the lifeboat.”⁵⁹

The Nagara being found to be carrying military supplies, it was sent to the bottom by demolition charges. Swing, along with all the passengers and crew, made their way to the shore. At the same time another American correspondent, Arthur Ruhl was making his way to the battlefield. He described meeting Turkish officers on 28^th May.

“We breakfasted with the colonel in his arbor on bread and ripe olives and tea, and walked with him round the camp, through a hospital and into an old farmhouse yard, where the gunsmiths were going over stacks of captured guns and the damaged rifles of the wounded... There were English Enfields and French rifles of the early nineties, and a mitrailleuse to which the Turks had fitted a new wooden base. There were rifles with smashed barrels, with stocks bored through by bullets, clean-cut holes that must have gone on through the men who held them — live men like ourselves; quick choking instants of terror the ghosts of which we were poking and peering into there in the warm sunshine!”⁶⁰

The campaign intended to bypass the deadlock on the Western Front was by now itself deadlocked. On 29^th May Sir George Riddell, the owner of the News of the World, discussed things David Lloyd George.

“We talked of the Dardanelles Expedition. L. G. [Lloyd George] said that the calculations had gone hopelessly astray. The Cabinet had been told that the peninsula was a table-land, which could be swept by the guns of the Fleet, whereas it had proved that the configuration of the ground is such that the Turkish troops can easily take cover.”⁶¹

In his war memoirs, Lloyd George claimed to know no more about world events than the average newspaper reader.⁶² That, of course, cannot be true. Maps showing the terrain of the Gallipoli peninsula had been published before any soldier set foot there in the British press.⁶³ Such a senior member of the British Government, who would lead it 18 months later, clearly knew less than anyone who ever read a newspaper. We cannot be surprised by this, of course, as he was sleepwalking while voting for war in August 1914.

By this time, Malcolm Ross, the official New Zealand war correspondent, had arrived in Egypt. He visited sick and wounded men in hospital and asked about their experiences. It seems this is the origin of the myth of Turkish women acting as snipers on the peninsula.

“One met with frequent stories of women snipers in the Turkish lines, but it was always difficult to get first-hand information about them. A wounded Australian gave me an instance that had come under his own notice. These particular snipers — and no doubt many others — had silencers on their Mauser rifles. The advancing party therefore heard only the ping of the bullet near them, and a sound like the crack of a whip. On this particular occasion they located a sniper close at hand, and went to look for him. There was another “ping!” and one of the men fell dead. Suddenly the party came upon two snipers, who held up their rifles as token of surrender. Their rifles were taken from them, their hands tied behind their backs, and they were marched down to the beach. They were wearing the uniforms of dead Australian soldiers, and they had about 2000 rounds of ammunition near them, and enough food to last a fortnight. A doctor who examined them at headquarters found that they were both women! On the following day these Australians had to cross a gully on their right flank, and there they found five of their dead comrades, stripped of all their clothing, even to their boots.”⁶⁴

Tales had been told about snipers from the very beginning of the campaign. Said to be painted green, with large stores of food and ammunition, the identification tags of their victims around their necks, the change of gender was just another, if enduring, twist.

Ross spoke to others about experiences which were less contested and in more luxurious surroundings. On 7^th June he met “Plevna” Ryan, who told him about the armistice to bury the dead at Anzac two weeks before.

“Colonel Ryan, of the Australian A.M.C., was through the siege of Plevna with the Turks, and his book about that campaign is well known. Now he finds himself in the Gallipoli Peninsula in the opposing lines. I happened to have a letter of introduction to him, and the other day in Shepheard's [Hotel, Cairo], seeing a short, stoutish, grey-bearded man with Australian badges and a Red Cross on his arm, I asked if by any chance he happened to know Colonel Ryan. “I am Colonel Ryan,” he replied with a merry twinkle in his Irish eyes. He had just come back from his “dug-out” at Gaba Tepe. When the armistice was granted to bury the Turkish dead facing our lines, he walked out into the Turkish trenches, and when the Turkish doctors, noticed his Plevna ribbon they greeted him warmly, but wanted to know what he was doing in the opposing lines. He told them. They were fine fellows, these young Turkish doctors, he said. One spoke English perfectly. Dr. Ryan told him he looked like an Englishman. “No,” he replied. “I am a pure Turk; but I was educated in Paris.” Colonel Ryan got on very well with those young Turks, but he had a row with two German doctors, who wanted to make out that the Australians and New Zealanders in burying the dead in advance of their own lines were really making fresh trenches. The Turkish Staff officer who came with the flag of truce was, he added, a charming man.”⁶⁵

At this time, Ross' wife, Forrestina Ross, also a journalist, described a visit to the 1^st Southern General Hospital, Birmingham.

“As a rule, the matron said, they did not care to speak about their horrible experiences. They touched too deep a tragic note, and woke too many terrible memories, but, in several cases, the New Zealanders said goodbye to me as unwillingly as I to them. Time and trains allowed no lengthy reminiscences, and to the simple vivid word pictures I could have listened for hours.”⁶⁶

Some men, after reading reports of the fighting, wrote to challenge some of the wilder stories. Others, like Pte Frank Cole, 1^st Bn Lancashire Fusiliers, who had been at “W” Beach on 25^th April 1915, wrote to correct a journalist friend from hospital on 11^th June 1915.

“Of course, you know about poor Bob.⁶⁷ It has upset me very much as we had been chums for eight years, and hardly ever parted, but I should like to point out a little error in your report that he was killed on May 11. As a matter of fact he was killed on the beach on April 25 the day of the landing. He lived two hours after being wounded, and just before he died he asked me to write and tell his mother he had done his best, which I did, but, of course, I don't know whether she got the letter or not.”⁶⁸

While it was understood that there were limits to what newspapers could report, their readers were not fools. They could and did wonder how so much apparent success could translate into so little progress on the ground at Gallipoli and elsewhere. Guy L'Estrange, a British journalist writing in Bristol on 12^th June 1915, noted how counter-productive this could be.

“To some extent the disappointment and impatience which is expressed has undoubtedly been due to an ill-informed and much-too-optimistic press at home. In a measure this has been due in turn to the military censorship, which has too frequently told us the good news and has quietly suppressed the bad news.”⁶⁹

One man who definitely believed bad news was being withheld from the public was Ashmead-Bartlett. After surviving the sinking of the Majestic, he returned to England and discussed the situation with Kitchener on 12^th June.

“I went at noon to Downing Street to await the pleasure of the Cabinet Council, and was shown into the Secretary’s room while “The choice and master spirits of the age” deliberated for an hour and a half. Lord Selborne was the first to come out and asked me some questions. He was followed by Lord Kitchener, whom I had never met before, and of whom I had heard so many awe-inspiring tales throughout the last twenty years. But in Mr. Balfour’s words, I found nothing in his attitude to inspire either fear or awe, rather a good-natured benevolence. In appearance he has grown considerably older than his published portraits show; his face also appears fuller, and his skin is red and rough. He wasted no time in non-essentials, but asked me a number of questions which apparently he had already in mind.

“Do you consider the Turks obtain the greater part of their supplies from Asia Minor via Chanak, or by sea from Constantinople, or by the Bulair lines through Thrace?”

“I replied I considered it impossible for the Turks to keep their troops in Gallipoli supplied by feeding them through Asia Minor, and that if we closed the sea route by submarines and cut off communication with Thrace by land, they would speedily be starved out.”⁷⁰

Landing at Bulair was a theme he would repeat for the rest of his days. Some got tired of hearing about it. The author Compton Mackenzie, granted a commission in the Royal Marines and attached to the headquarters staff, tired of have to filling in for Ashmead-Bartlett during his absence in England.

“I returned to G.H.Q. immediately after the battle of the Twenty-first of June in order to write my despatch for the papers, and what a relief it was to hear that Ashmead-Bartlett would be out here again within a few days. The last thing in the world I wanted to be was a war correspondent, for I knew I should never make even a moderately good one, and I dreaded being tied down to the routine such a job would involve.”⁷¹

Any relief on his part proved short-lived, replaced by frustration after the correspondent's return.

“While I was listening to Bartlett talking about his tent and gloating over the probably dissolution of G.H.Q. by the July and August heats, I could not help likening this survivor of the Majestic to the original Jonah... He rasped on and on about Bulair until I began to feel that it would almost be worth landing at Bulair merely to stop Bartlett's talking about it any more.”⁷²

Ashmead-Bartlett's activities in England had certainly created waves. Hamilton would have preferred he stayed there and took steps to control his access to the battlefield. A base for all war correspondents was established on Imbros. Charles Bean would have none of that and explained that his role was more than a reporter, writing on 27^th June:

“The Australian Government in the instructions given me during my interviews with the Minister for Defence attached importance to two points: “(a) to having with this distant force a representative who could satisfy the poignant anxiety of Australians for news of their own men — their daily life, behaviour in action, their peculiar Australia interest which could be given by an Australian, and (b) to be special instructions given to me to write after the war the history of the Australian part in the war, as a permanent record for libraries, schools, and the nation generally. In their speeches at the dinner given to me in Melbourne before I left, the Minister for Defence, and other minister laid special stress upon the latter.”⁷³

Writing that same day, General Sir Ian Hamilton commented on how useful pressmen could be. He, like Sir John French on the Western Front, was far from above using newspapers to serve his own ends. In Hamilton's case, though, it was a case of being careful of what he wished for.

“From my individual point of view a hideous mistake has been made on the correspondence side of the whole of this Dardanelles business. Had we had a dozen good newspaper correspondents here, the vital life-giving interest of these stupendous proceedings would have been brought right into the hearths and homes of the humblest people in Britain....

“Again I say the Press must win. On no subject is there more hypocrisy amongst big men in England. They pretend they do not care for the Press and sub rosa they try all they are worth to work it.”⁷⁴

Hamilton was not worried about men like Bean. He knew Bean did not see his role as in any way undermining the high command. But he did require all correspondents to sign a declaration, presumably similar to the one he later required of Keith Murdoch, reproduced below.

“I, the undersigned, do hereby solemnly undertake to follow in every particular the rules issued by the Commander-in-Chief through the Chief Field Censor, relative to correspondence concerning the forces in the Field, and bind myself not to attempt to correspond by any other route or by any other means than that officially sanctioned.

“Further, in the event of my ceasing to act as correspondent with the British Forces, I will not during the continuance of the War join the forces of any other Power in any capacity, or impart to anyone military information of a confidential nature or of a kind such that its disclosure is likely to prejudice military operations, which may have been acquired by me while with the British Forces in the Field, or publish any writing, plan, map, sketch, photograph or other picture on military subjects, the material for which has been acquired by me in a similar manner, unless first submitted by me to the Chief Field Censor for censorship and passed for publication by him.”⁷⁵

Compton Mackenzie described Ashmead-Bartlett's reaction on being presented with the document.

“I forget the exact wording of the document, but it was to the effect that they should consider themselves bound by various military rules and regulations and among other things that they should undertake not to communicate with the enemy. One after another signed his name at the foot, Nevinson with a courtliness of gesture that seemed to express his sense of the slight embarrassment I might be feeling at having to proffer such a superfluous document and at the same time his immediate acknowledgment of the fact that the position of a correspondent had somehow to be clearly set down in black and white. Ashmead-Bartlett was the last to sign, and when he came to the clause about communicating with the enemy he paused.

“I'm hardly likely to do that, am I?” he exclaimed, flinging down his pen with contemptuous petulance.

“Well, I can't help the phrasing, Bartlett,” I replied just as fretfully, for I was feeling tired that morning. “I didn't draw up this document. If you object to signing it, you'd better go and argue the matter with Sir Ian or the C. G. S. It's nothing to do with me. I'm merely carrying out orders in asking for your signature.”

“So Bartlett signed his name at the foot, murmuring something about its being on a par with the rest of the idiotic behaviour of G. H. Q.”⁷⁶

Ernest Brooks was appointed to be the official British war photographer at Gallipoli. On 12^th July, he accompanied Ashmead-Bartlett to watch the latest attack at Helles. The latter described the scene.

“I... finally found an ideal spot and apparently the safest I had seen up to date in an observation post of the 42^nd Division. But strange enough it became a focus for the Turkish artillery fire. Brooks was enchanted by the panorama of the battle, the shells bursting, and the infantry attacks and then by a strange chance was hit in a soft spot by a shrapnel bullet. I think he believes I got it done on purpose. He dropped his camera with a yell, and “the subsequent proceedings interested him no more”.”⁷⁷

Ashmead-Bartlett wrote up his piece back on Imbros.

“July 15th. At Imbros. I completed what I could put together about the latest “big victory” in front of Achi Baba. I do not know what value these accounts will be to the Press, as Sir Ian Hamilton apparently now acts as his own correspondent and sends in cables a long time ahead of ours. It is almost impossible to know what to write, but I could put together an official bulletin which would apply to all these attacks out here.

“After a concentrated bombardment our infantry advanced against the demoralised enemy and speedily captured four lines of trenches. We were on the verge of taking Achi Baba when unfortunately something (generally the French) gave way on our right, leaving us with an exposed flank. Our centre then had to retire, suffering heavy casualties. On our left something else gave way, and the enemy was unfortunately able to reoccupy his old positions. We are now back on the same line from which we started this morning. The enemy’s counter-attacks were most gallantly repulsed with enormous losses. At least ten thousand of his dead are lying in front of our lines and it is reported that thirty thousand wounded have been evacuated to Constantinople. Our troops are much elated by their success, and declare themselves ready to attack again at any time. We have made a distinct advance of at least five yards in some places.”⁷⁸

Despite, even understandable cynicism about what correspondents were allowed to write, the public craved news. Nurse Jeanne Sinclair, New Zealand Army Nursing Service, explained this from Alexandria on 17^th July 1915.

“We get absolutely no news here. I had a pile of Dominions, Posts, and an Auckland Weekly sent me, and those were just rushed by our crowd of girls. After they had finished them I brought them to the ward, where they had an equally warm reception. All the men go crazy over anything to read. One of our girls bought five magazines for them the other day; this exhausted the shops’ supplies. I had no idea we could miss news so much.”⁷⁹

L/Cpl Herbert Harris, 4^th Bn Worcestershire Regiment, a former journalist was happier with life than his more senior peer, writing from Lemnos on 18^th July 1915.

“My description of the Island may not suggest that it is the most inviting spot, but taking everything into account, I have never been more supremely happy. Living the simple life brings its own reward, and we are now “simple lifers” with a vengeance. We have cut down our trousers into shorts and strut about all day in shirt sleeves, helmet and bare knees. Our faces and clothes are brown with sand, and I daresay we look a frightful lot of scarcecrows.”⁸⁰

Harris⁸¹ was a recent arrival, a reinforcement to his battalion. Pte Cecil Yorke, Canterbury Battalion, who had been there from the start. He wrote about the Indians at Anzac on 20^th July 1915.

“The Indians, in their native garb, when not on duty, squat together on the ground and talk and smoke after the maimer of the East, or sing their pretty quaint Eastern songs. Nor are they without musical instruments, for only the other day I happened to hear an Indian playing one of the sweetest of Indian melodies on a kind of violin, and, at the same time, singing with wonderful effect the song to which the melody was evidently the accompaniment. The Indians are tall, strapping fellows, a great source of interest to our troops, with whom, because of their bright and sunny dispositions and their willingness, they are always popular. The goats they bring with them for milk are perfectly tame, and I even “shook hands” with one the other day, though it was not at all enthusiastic, nor did it seem to appreciate the honour, but simply looked towards me in a detached, philosophical way while it continued chewing its cud. The occasional bleating of the sheep the Indians bring with them is also reminiscent of other days.”⁸²

Henry Nevinson channelled Tacitus on 28^th July 1915.

“Under the blazing sun you tramp along it through what was lately a garden of wild flowers, fields, vineyards, and olive groves, but is now the wilderness which people make and call war.⁸³ It is a wilderness of mounds and pits and trenches, of heaped-up stores and rows of horses stabled in the open, of tarpaulin dressing stations behind embankments, of carts and waggons for ever on the move, of Indian muleteers for ever striving to inculcate the gleam of human reason into mules.”⁸⁴

To men like Pte Cecil Yorke, Canterbury Battalion, the desolation was the norm. This may well have been his last letter from Anzac, dated 3^rd August 1915; he was not fated to survive the coming offensive.⁸⁵

“War and life “at the front” now seem quite natural, as normal and inevitable as a state of peace used to seem to most of us. We are accustomed to having an enemy within a stone’s throw of us, and the memory of any other condition of affairs is inclined to be too dim and hazy to afford much of a contrast with the present... A man going to war learns, if he has not learnt already, a most sensational lesson, the lesson of his own utter unimportance, how easily the world can do without him and how cynically “the gods” regard the loss of a mere life, human or otherwise.”⁸⁶

Henry Nevinson, Malcolm Ross and Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett met Sir Ian Hamilton on Imbros on 3^rd August 1915. The subject was the coming offensive.

“Nevinson, Malcolm Ross and I rode over to G.H.Q. and were at once shown into Sir Ian’s private quarters, a miserable kind of hut made of reeds, which has his bell tent alongside it. The hut he uses as a mess room. This was the first occasion l had seen him since I had the row at G.H.Q., about six weeks ago, when I was accused of criticising the operations. However, he was in a very good humour and received us in the most friendly manner. Nevinson had already been deputed to act as spokesman, as the senior member of the party. He explained his fears about the curtailment of our freedom, and how impossible it would be if we were expected to go round together. I added, “Especially as one member of our party is not at all agreeable to us.” Sir Ian expressed great surprise when he heard of the arrival of Major Delmé Radcliffe, who, he said, had been appointed by the War Office over his head, without even his knowledge. He went on, “I promise you you shall have absolute freedom of movement and that nothing shall be done to curtail the privileges you have enjoyed in the past. It is the last thing in the world I desire.” He added that Radcliffe would not take over the censorship, and he considered it undesirable that he should reside in our camp. So what Radcliffe’s duties are going to consist of it is difficult to see, but probably those of a kind of liaison officer.

“He then spoke about the operations, which, he said, would commence in a few days, and promised that we should be fully informed in time to make our preparations. He added, “There will be two centres of main interest, and you must make your plans accordingly. One will be a fresh landing.”

“I already knew approximately what points would be attacked, as I had learnt them from Birdwood in June.

“I asked Sir Ian if he could give us a hint as to which would be the most important spot to go — to place himself, in fact, in the position of a War Correspondent. He said that he could not reply to my question at present but might be able to do so later. The conversation then turned on other matters, and he said he regretted very much that there had been no one present to write a descriptive account of the events of June 4th, on which his thoughts are ever harping. We left Sir Ian’s presence quite satisfied after wishing him the best of luck.”⁸⁷

Hamilton had received significant reinforcements. Those who allowed their optimism to reappear could have benefited from read what one American journalist, Granville Fortescue, had to say about their opponents.

“At first glance one may say that the advantage in numbers is of little importance, as the Turkish troops during their last war were of proved inferiority. Perhaps they were a poor lot during that last Balkan war, though from the looks of things at present I doubt even that. But today the Turkish common soldier is most formidable.”⁸⁸

Compton Mackenzie heard the opening bombardment at Helles from Imbros on the afternoon of 6^th August 1915.

“At half-past three on the afternoon of the sixth of August the thunder of the guns on Helles travelling across the clear air to Kephalo proclaimed that the general attack ordered there had begun. This was intended to occupy the Turks in the Southern Zone and prevent their moving northward to reinforce the defenders above Anzac, where the Australians and New Zealanders launched their attack at half-past five.”⁸⁹

Ashmead-Bartlett watched British troops leave Imbros bound for Suvla the same day before heading for the peninsula with his colleagues.

“To-day the 11th Division began to embark at Imbros on cruisers, trawlers, transports, and in the new motor barges known as “Beetles,” which are to convey them to a new battleground on bloodstained Gallipoli. These “Beetles” are bullet-proof and each holds about four hundred men. They have a long gangway which lets down in front to enable troops to jump ashore across deep water, the gangway acting like a drawbridge...

“There was something weird and tragic about the departure of the 11th Division. Will these rows and rows of tents ever know this mighty host again? Well, the last round of the great adventure is about to start: all we can do is to hope for the best...

“At 7 p.m., Nevinson, Radcliffe and I assembled at the quay to embark on the liner Minneapolis. For an hour we were unable to obtain a boat, but at last a friendly N.T.O. [Naval Transport Officer] sent us off in a tug. It was pitch dark by now, for once again the waning moon has been called upon to aid the new landing... From the Minneapolis it was impossible to see anything, so black was the night, except the grey outlines of the vessels nearest us. The entire fleet of warships, transports, trawlers, and motor boats conveying the landing force was swallowed up in the darkness.”⁹⁰

There was no correspondent to record the near destruction of 4^th Bn Worcestershire Regiment at Helles that day; their attempt to divert Turkish attention away from the breakout at Anzac was a disaster. But there were few of the battalion left to tell the story themselves: 16 officers and 752 men were killed, wounded or missing. It is unlikely any allied unit suffered such heavy casualties in a single day during the whole campaign.

Bean was to watch the progress of the attack on 7^th August but he would have to learn the story of what happened second hand. He explained why.

“I regret personally that I have been unable to get later details of the great attack owing to having been slightly wounded this morning whilst making my way towards the 4^th Australian Brigade. This will prevent me personally moving about for a few days, and will unfortunately delay the collection of details for the letters. These, however, will be forwarded as soon us possible.”⁹¹

He would keep that promise.

An unwounded Malcolm Ross witnessed the Turkish counter-attack at Chunuk Bair, 10^th August 1915.

“On Tuesday, in the half-light before the dawn, the Turks suddenly came pouring over the crest of Chunuk Bair, and swooped down upon our position in superior numbers. As dawn broke we could see them bravely rushing down across the fire-swept slopes of Chunuk Bair into the gully to the right of our supports on Rhododendron Ridge. Every now and then a man would stagger and fall headlong down the slope, and remain prone on a bare patch, or rise and limp away into the scrub or one of the topmost trenches for shelter. Meantime the New Zealand guns had got to work with deadly accuracy. Shrapnel bursting on the upper slopes almost completely wiped out whole groups of the enemy scattered amongst the scrub. The big guns and the secondary armament on the cruisers were also at work, and shattered the topmost Turkish trenches with the forceful lyddite. It was too much for all but the bravest Turks, and presently numbers began to climb laboriously back up the slopes they had so valiantly charged down but a few minutes before. On these, retreating Turks our shrapnel still played, and after the dust of each successive burst had cleared away there would be only two or three men where a few seconds previously there had been a dozen or a score. These continued their flight, some bending down in an endeavour to escape notice, others limping along, and still others strolling slowly hack with fatalistic unconcern. One wounded man came out of a hail of shrapnel, limped up the slopes and over the crest of the ridge into safety on the Dardanelles side, though many a shot must have fallen about him. One became absorbed in his progress, and though he was an enemy I felt almost pleased when finally his silhouette disappeared over the skyline.”⁹²

The largest attack of all was that made by 9^th Corps at Suvla on 21^st August 1915. Henry Nevinson was there.

“I was up in front in the midst of a tremendous bombardment with which the fighting began. Suddenly a shell burst close above my head with a frightful crash, and I felt a blow just like an iron mallet. The officer next to said. ‘Are you hit?’ and I said ‘ Yes, I suppose so.’ I saw my brown shirt (no coat on, happily) suddenly run soaking with blood. They called for a stretcher, but I said I wanted to stay and see the fighting.

“I ran my bandage over my head and drew it tight. However, they rushed me back, walking through the trenches to a dressing station. The orderly left the bandage as it was, and we waited to see if the blood stopped. In an hour it slackened, and I went back to the same position, and stayed out up and down the front till dark, and then walked four miles back over rough country to a real ambulance. They shaved the top of my head, and showed me a ’ beautiful clean cut' sort of semicircle exposing the white skull, from which the shell must have rebounded, finding it impervious to all but reason.

“It was very painful — still is — but not serious. A queer ache at the back of the head is the worst part really. I have gone about just as usual, two days again at the same front, for fear of losing nerve. Queer how much noble blood one can lose without suffering any difference.”⁹³

The August offensive had failed. Ashmead-Bartlett had a story to sell, writing to his agent on 26^th August.

“Now if I am given time I am convinced I can produce a work which will have a far greater sale than one which would merely be more or less of a rehash of what has already appeared in the Press. The subject is too vast and too great to spoil by over haste. I will stake my opinion against the most astute publisher that the interest in this expedition will last for years and years and that its product will arouse more bitter controversies than any other event in English History for several centuries. It will be the really authoritative book which will have the big and permanent sale and not one produced red hot like the generality of war books. This is outside their pail [sic] altogether. In the first place I have been allowed to see everything and I know every detail of what has taken place and until one is allowed to make the book really interesting by the publication of all those thousand details which no censor would allow the present time it would hardly be worth publishing it at all.”⁹⁴

He needed the money, having appeared in a bankruptcy court in February, declaring no assets but liabilities of £4,314. And took the opportunity to improve the story, having returned from England with a film camera. On 2^nd September he went to Suvla with Ernest Brooks.

“I left... armed with my cinema, accompanied by [Ernest] Brooks, the official photographer, who has returned from England. I landed after a very stormy voyage, the precursor of what is to come. I found things much quieter than usual and very little shelling. Our tent has been removed, as it served as a range-finder for the enemy’s guns. We went out beyond Chocolate Hill into the front trenches, where the Turkish lines were about fifty yards away. We were out after pictures, and nearly caused a battle. Finding a trench occupied by an Irish battalion, Brooks asked them to assume positions just as if they were resisting an attack. But the men would look round at the cinema. Brooks said “ That is not realistic enough.” “Oh!” exclaimed an Irishman, “I’ll make it realistic.” Whereupon he started to shoot at the Turks, followed by all his comrades. The day being perfectly quiet, the latter imagined we were about to attack, and replied furiously. A sustained duel then began and in the excitement the Irishmen forgot all about us. Soon the Turkish artillery joined in, and it looked as if we had started a battle all along the line. They telephoned down from brigade headquarters to find out what was happening, whereupon one of the N.C.O.s replied, “Oh, nothing, sir, it is only the cinema.” But I thought the matter had gone far enough, so we crept away to avoid the wrath of the divisional headquarters.”⁹⁵

Recovered from his wound, Nevinson described conditions at Anzac on 5^th September.

“I have just returned from a few days' visit to those cliffs and gullies on which the Australians and New Zealanders have been clinging for four months without rest or pause. Anzac is not the most comfortable place even on this comfortless Peninsula. You live in a cave, like prehistoric man, and you climb like a goat to reach it. You sleep on a shelf of rocky marl. If you have head cover it crumbles down on your face at the explosion of guns or shells. If you have not, a shell or dropping bullet may prolong your sleep for ever.”⁹⁶

Another correspondent paid a brief visit to Anzac, Keith Murdoch. He met Ashmead-Bartlett in camp at Imbros on 7^th September.

“For some days past Keith Murdoch, an Australian writer, who has been allowed to visit Anzac for a short time, has been staying at our camp. He is very alarmed over the state of the Army and the prospects of a winter campaign. He tells me that the Australians dread it above all else, and that many of their positions will become quite untenable. He declares, and I think quite rightly, that unless someone lets the truth be known at home we are likely to suffer a great disaster.”⁹⁷

The following day Ashmead-Bartlett handed Murdoch a letter to take to Herbert Asquith. It seems Nevinson found out about the letter and told Hamilton. The latter's attempt to appear shocked on 17^th September may convince some.

“... a Correspondent writes in and tells us that for the honour of his profession he feels bound to let us know that Mr. Ashmead-Bartlett has secretly sent home an uncensored despatch per, of all people in the world, Mr. Murdoch!”⁹⁸

This was the end of Ashmead-Bartlett at Gallipoli. Bean reflected on his style on 26^th September.

“Ashmead Bartlett makes it a little difficult for one by his exaggerations, and yet he's a lover of the truth. He gives the spirit of the thing: but if he were asked: “Did a shout really go up from a thousand throats that the hill was ours?” he'd have to say “No, it didn't”. Or if they said “Did the New Zealanders really club their rifles and kill three men at once?” or “Did the first battle of Anzac really end with the flash of bayonets all along the line, a charge, and the rolling back of the Turkish attack” he'd have to say “Well — no, as a matter of fact that didn't occur”. Well, I can't write that it occurred if I know it did not, even if by painting it that way I could rouse the blood and make the pulse beat faster — and undoubtedly these men here deserve that people's pulses shall beat for them. But War Correspondents have so habitually exaggerated the heroism of battles that people don't realise that the real actions are heroic.”⁹⁹

Major-General Walter Braithwaite, Hamilton's Chief of Staff, considered Ashmead-Bartlett guilty of more than journalistic excess. He confronted the correspondent, who recorded their exchange on 28^th September.

“When I had a talk with you in June last you promised not to criticise the leaders of the Army, the conduct of the campaign, or to break the regulations again.” I replied that I had consented to certain things, and as far as I knew I had kept my agreement. He went on, “On September 8th you sent off an uncensored letter by Murdoch, who was leaving, addressed to Mr. Asquith.” I replied that I had done so and that I considered I had a perfect right to address the Prime Minister direct. He answered, “You know you had not, and your letter has got Murdoch into serious trouble.” I asked, “How did you find out I had sent this letter? He refused to give any answer to this.”¹⁰⁰

Murdoch had been intercepted at Marseilles and the letter taken from him. He continued his journey to London, where he met Maurice Hankey, the Cabinet Secretary on 29^th September. They did not get along.

“I lunched with Mr. Balfour to meet a horrible scab called Murdoch, an Australian journalist, who had written a poisonous letter to Fisher, the Commonwealth Premier, re the Dardanelles.”¹⁰¹

Hankey's note of the meeting of the Dardanelles Committee on 6^th October 1915 during which Murdoch's letter was discussed was couched in language more typical of a professional Civil Servant.

“It was... rather a bitter document, and it was conspicuous for the omission of any praise for anyone or anything at the Dardanelles. Colonel Hankey... had reported to him that it was full of serious misstatements of fact. Unfortunately, however, it had been sent to the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth...

“MR. BONAR LAW said that we must be careful not to overstate the other side of Mr. Murdoch's letter, as there was a substream of truth in his report.”¹⁰²

The possibility of evacuation had been aired previously but now, with the campaign stalled, with no more reinforcements being made available to Hamilton, it was clearly going nowhere. Back on the peninsula, the ranks were being thinned far more by disease than active operations. Lt Oliver Hogue, 2^nd Australian Light Horse Brigade, whose journalism appeared under the pen-name Trooper Bluegum, wrote on 5^th October 1915.

“I’m down and out, completely bushed... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t think the doctor does. But I’m so shockingly weak... I... tried to keep on, keepin’ on. Had I laid up at once I would have had a couple of weeks in the hospital ship at Lemnos, and then I’d have been fit again. But I kept on thinking I’d soon be better, and so kept on until every ounce of strength I had was drained away. Then a couple of days ago I collapsed in the trenches, and they put me to bed.”¹⁰³

All was not well elsewhere. The American journalist, John Reed, later famed for his coverage of the Russian Revolution, visited Istanbul around this time.

“Sometimes an intoxicated or excited Teuton would come over to the American table and begin an argument... or a German officer in Turkish uniform would stop them on the street and insist on being saluted. The sailors answered nothing but insults, and then they answered with their fists... Seaman Williams broke the German lieutenant's head with a stone beer-mug, and was transferred back to the United States as being 'unfit for diplomatic service'.”¹⁰⁴

On 15^th October the newspaper proprietor, Sir George Liddell recorded Ashmead-Bartlett's return from Gallipoli. News had just reached him that Hamilton was to follow.

“Ashmead Bartlett, correspondent of the London papers at the Dardanelles, has been sent home by Ian Hamilton, who charges him with serious breaches of the military regulations. The General's decision was first communicated to the War Office by cablegram. I asked for more particulars. Later I was informed that the breach consisted in Ashmead Bartlett having written a private letter to the Prime Minister, which he sent secretly by the hand of an Australian correspondent, one Murdoch, who was coming to England. According to Bartlett, no one but Murdoch and himself knew of the letter, but apparently he was wrong, as Murdoch was stopped and searched en route for an unauthorised dispatch. The letter was taken from him and forwarded to the War Office unopened. Brade told me that the Prime Minister heard that a letter had arrived for him at the War Office and sent for it. The letter was opened and Brade was informed of the contents. This was four or five days ago. On Wednesday, October 13th, Ashmead Bartlett attended the Council Meeting of the Newspaper Proprietors' Association and told his story. Harry Lawson also had a letter which he had received from Hamilton, giving his reasons for sending Bartlett home — a very sketchy sort of a letter. It was arranged that Lawson should see the Prime Minister on the subject and ascertain his views. To-day Lawson told me that the P.M. had never heard of the letter. I then telephoned to Brade, who informed me that the letter had been lost at Downing Street. I understand it contained important information and serious reflections upon the conduct of the campaign. Lawson says Ian Hamilton is to be recalled.”¹⁰⁵

Hamilton had refused to even consider the possibility of abandoning the campaign and had been recalled. General Sir Charles Monro had been despatched as Hamilton's replacement; to report on the viability of maintaining the force at Gallipoli. His recommendation to evacuate was discussed in the House of Lords. Lord Alfred Milner spoke on 14^th October.

“I hear statements that it would be a terrible thing to abandon our Dardanelles adventure because this would have so bad an effect in Egypt, in India, upon our prestige in the East, [but] I cannot help asking myself whether it will not have a worse effect if we persist in that enterprise and it ends in complete disaster.”¹⁰⁶

The complete disregard for security was in keeping with the character of the campaign. Some newspapers repeated the rumours. Others, like Howell Gwynne on 18^th October, complained to Sir John Simon, the Home Secretary, that their attempts to be responsible, to not publish the Monro's leaked conclusions, was wholly undermined by others (he meant the Northcliffe 'papers) who went unpunished.

“I feel so strongly on the subject that when Lord Milner made his speech in the House of Lords the other day about the evacuation of Gallipoli I cut out all references to this and also references to Lord Landsdowne's answer. We are doing our best, both inside and outside the Government to obtain victory. But if we allow newspapers to give away continually valuable information, we are jeopardising the interests of the country.”¹⁰⁷

Malcolm Ross, writing on 23^rd October, recorded the changes to the correspondents there.

“For some months there were five war correspondents on the Peninsula, but the number has recently been reduced to three — Mr. Ashmead Bartlett, representing the London dailies, was recalled to England, and Mr. H. V. Nevinson, representing the provincial papers, has left on a month's furlough. There remain only Mr. L. Lawrence, representing Reuter's, and the official correspondents with the Australian and New Zealand forces. Two of our number have been wounded; one was received from a torpedoed warship, and all have had their narrow escapes, both from shot and shell, Mr. Ward Price, of the “Daily Mail,” is coming out, instead of Mr. Bartlett, and a Russian correspondent may also appear on the scene, so that the corps will in a few weeks be back to its ordinary strength.”¹⁰⁸

Back in London, Keith Murdoch attended a talk given by Ashmead-Bartlett at the Queen's Hall on 27^th October. His enthusiasm seems to have clouded his recollection of the circumstances of their meeting.

“I met Ashmead Bartlett in the trenches at Anzac, under heavy shellfire; in the messroom of a monitor, where naval men had gathered round him as round a man admired by grave men; under canvas on an Aegean island, where he had been none the worse a host because of his wide experience of foraging. He is a man of supreme and serene daring, of cool wit and brave conscience — a man after Australia's own heart.

“His despatches were more valuable to Australia than probably any other writings of any other mail since Australia was discovered. But it is doubtful whether even that brilliant work by which he secured world-wide recognition for Australians' qualities as fighters, has not been bettered by the invaluable work he has done in London since his return. He has dragged out into the open, past the censorship facts about the bungling at the Dardanelles expedition in a way that has at last secured a beginning of those reforms essential to victory not only in this, but in all theatres of the war.”¹⁰⁹

Not everyone, however, shared the Australian's take the Englishman's conduct. The Dunedin Chamber of Commerce passed this resolution on 4^th November 1915.

“That this Chamber desires to enter its emphatic protest against the unpatriotic and ill-advised utterances of irresponsible war correspondents of the Ashmead Bartlett type and others, who apparently for selfish ends are doing their best to damage their country's interests and the interests of our Allies, that other Chambers be asked to make similar protest, and that the Prime Minister be asked to cable this resolution to Mr Asquith, requesting that it be given the widest publicity in Great Britain, and that failing prompt acquiescence by Mr Massey, the Chamber cable direct”.”¹¹⁰

With opinion divided about the fate of the soon to be renamed Dardanelles Army, Lord Kitchener was sent to see things for himself. Charles Bean recorded his visit to Anzac on 13^th November.

“Kitchener visited Anzac to-day. Very few even of the senior officers had any previous knowledge of the visit, but the moment he stepped ashore men “tumbled” to it and a remarkable scene occurred. How the knowledge could spread so fast I do not know, but by the time Lord Kitchener had reached the end of the pier the men were tumbling like rabbits out of every dug-out on the hillside, jumping over obstacles and making straight for the beach.

“Australians do not cheer readily, but as Kitchener, accompanied by Generals Birdwood and Maxwell and others passed the crowd along the beach the men spontaneously called for cheers and gave them again and again. It was purely a soldier's welcome.

“Lord Kitchener many times turned to the men. “His Majesty the King has asked me to tell you how splendidly he thinks you have done,” he said. “You have done excellently well. Better,” he added, “even than I thought you would.”¹¹¹

By now, the weather was beginning to change. Pte Hugh Garland,¹¹² 16^th Battalion AIF, wrote to former colleagues at the Daily Herald in Adelaide on 18^th November.

“Up to the last few days the weather has been beautiful — like Australian spring — but winter is coming, and last night the gentleman who sends the snow gave warning of what a consignment from him might mean. Everything is wonderfully quiet just now. Now and then there is a casualty, but it is generally a sniper or a stray which gets the credit. We sit in our trenches — the lucky ones do — and watch the Turks. They sit in theirs and watch us.”¹¹³

While politicians in London dithered, winter intervened. Henry Nevinson described the effect of the storm and subsequent freeze beginning on 26^th November.

“Then, of a sudden, the wind swung round to the north and fell upon the wrecked and inundated scene with icy blast. For nearly two days and nights snow descended in whirling blizzards, and two days and nights of bitter frost succeeded the snow. The surface of the pools and trenches froze thick. The men's greatcoats, being soaked through with the rain, froze stiff upon them. Men staggered down from the lines numbed and bemused with the intensity of cold. They could neither hear nor speak, but stared about them like bewildered bullocks. The sentries and outposts in the advanced trenches could not pull the triggers of their rifles for cold.”¹¹⁴

As some sections of the Press used the failure at Gallipoli as another stick with which to hit an administration it didn't like, on 30^th November Sir John Simon took the unusual step of naming the newspapers he considered to be actively working against the national interest.

“We in England know the true value of these jaundiced sheets, but they are a constant source of disappointment to our Allies and distrust to the neutrals while the Germans have found them their principal consolation. The Foreign Office has constantly brought these influences under the Home Office’s notice. Several members have taunted the Government with being afraid to suppress the “Times” and “Daily Mail” because they were owned by wealthy men.”¹¹⁵

Complaints were always made about restrictions on what and how things could be reported but on 4^th December Bean explained that on this occasion there was good reason why little of substance had appeared.

“For during the long intervals in which no news of fighting in Gallipoli reaches Australia it is not the censor who is to blame. He is not suppressing cables with details of fighting — they get along as soon after a fight as the chances of sea transport can take them to Alexandria. In these long intervals the truth is that there are no battles going on.”¹¹⁶

The decision to evacuate Suvla and Anzac having been taken, for once security was tight. Nevinson's report of 14^th December contained clues about what was to come, even if he did not know it.

“Once, it is true, the order was given at Anzac not to fire either bomb or rifle or gun for three days unless the enemy should how himself. At last the Turks, wondering about the silence, began to pour over the parapets. Then a few — about a hundred — crept out. One gallantly rushed forward and spring [sic] into the front Australian trench. I saw the place where he was bayoneted. Many of the others were shot as they ran back.

“Unhappily, there can be no doubt that within the last fortnight the German connection with Gallipoli through Bulgaria has begun to tell. One hears of batteries of 12-inch howitzers, 11-inch howitzers, and 9.2-inch guns being seen upon the way, and the rumour is probably true, or something like the truth.

“About the increase of big-gun ammunition and the superior quality of the ammunition and the gunners themselves since the gate through Bulgaria was opened there can be no question. One felt the difference at once both at Suvla, Anzac, and at Helles; perhaps most at Helles, where the big guns firing across the Straits from positions on the “Asiatic side” near Troy have been particularly volcanic during the two days of my stay.”¹¹⁷

The introduction of so-called 'silent periods' was part of the strategy to accustom the Turks to allied trenches falling silent; the increase in Turkish artillery one of the reasons why the position was untenable.

After the complete success of the withdrawals from Suvla and Anzac, reports of how it was done began to appear. This excerpt from one filed under Malcolm Ross' name would have puzzled some, though.

“Three miles away, across the grey, silky sea, lies the dark shape of the land. Eight months ago, just as the first lemon grey of dawn was breaking over that long, lizard-shaped mountain, I watched such signs as were visible of the landing of the Australian troops in Gallipoli. Now, as night falls gradually, down upon the same historic hills, I am watching for the signs of their departure.”¹¹⁸

How could Ross write about his recollections of the original landing back in April when he was not even in Egypt at the time? The piece had been written by Bean, covering for Ross who was ill in bed on a hospital ship at the time. Questions were raised at the time in New Zealand about Ross' work on the peninsula, how much of his material took months to appear, which, irrespective of its merits, rendered it of little value as news.

The biggest news of all was the final evacuation of Helles on 9^th January 1916. Nevison reflected that day on what it meant.

“News has just come that Helles is evacuated. The first report said with the loss of 3,000 killed and wounded; the second says with no loss at all. In either cause, the event marks the end of a splendid and terrible episode in the war, and all who, like myself, were present for many months upon the peninsula must look back on the course of its history with mingled admiration and sorrow...

“But, indeed, the memories of Suvla are overwhelming. There are memories of tragedy and humour — of awful death, and of the general who up to the last hour continued polishing his trenches along the so-called “Boot,” and almost with tears in his voice, whispered to me, “Oh, what a pity it is to leave them.” I need say nothing about memories of that final departure. Only later I described it. I promised General Birdwood to say nothing further about it without his consent, and now I don't know where he is. Not that it would matter much now whatever I said. For the episode of the Dardanelles is over. We have reached the end of a story as truly epic as the ancient tales of battle.”¹¹⁹

Nevinson was fond of classical allusion but also looked forward to how it would all be remembered in future.

“If peace comes within the next few years to this distracted world, soldiers and students of war will go to visit those astonishing scenes; excursionists will go to gaze; mothers and lovers will go to search for some unmarked grave. Then the trenches and caverns where we lived will begin slowly to fall in and crumble away, except only such as a few shepherds may think superior to their huts, or useful as pens for sheep. Grasses and flowers will cover the desert that war has made, and the inhabitants will scarcely turn a dishonest penny by inventing the details of the conflict. But in our history the name of the Dardanelles will always remain as a characteristic memorial recording disastrous qualities, but, besides disastrous qualities, the versatility, fortitude, and endurance of our race, whether in old countries or in new.”¹²⁰

Many of the men recorded their sadness at leaving Gallipoli; their chief regret being to leave their fallen comrades behind. Had it all been for nothing?

On 11^th January, Lt-Col Charles à Court Repington, The Times correspondent at the heart of the shell scandal the previous May met Sir Ian Hamilton over lunch. He gave his verdict to a man who would disagree for the rest of his days.

“Wrote an article on 'Amateur Strategy' in the morning, but it was banned by the Censor. Lunched with Sir Ian and Lady Hamilton at 1 Hyde Park Gardens. He and I at once plunged into the history of the Dardanelles expedition... I told him that I did not think, if he had captured the heights above the Narrows, that the Navy could have compelled the Turks to make peace, and that therefore the objective assigned to him was not a correct one.”¹²¹

^Endnotes

¹Russell, W. H., The British Expedition to the Crimea, p. 185, G. Routledge & Co. (New York) 1858.

²Three of Burleigh's sons died during the Great War, including Lt Bennet Burleigh, 1/7th Bn Lancashire Fusiliers, who died of wounds at Helles on 15th July 1915. He is buried in Lancashire Landing Cemetery.

³The Armidale Express and New England General Advertiser (New South Wales), 16th February 1883.

⁴Evening News (Sydney, New South Wales), 2nd May 1929.

⁵Farrimond, Richard, Birdie. More Than Soul of ANZAC, Field Marshal Lord Birdwood of Anzac and Totnes, 1865-1951, p. 63, Helion & Company (Warwick) 2023.

⁶Kruger, Rayne, Goodbye Dolly Gray. The Story of the Boer War, p. 435, Pan Books (London) 1983.

⁷Weekly Times (Melbourne, Victoria), 5th October 1901.

⁸Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 24, Hutchinson & Co. (London) 1928.

⁹Ashmead-Bartlett, Ellis, With The Turks in Thrace, p. 180, William Heinemann (London) 1913.

¹⁰The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, New South Wales), 20th June 1914.

¹¹Northcliffe quoted in Clarke, Tom, My Northcliffe Diary, p. 65, Victor Gollancz Ltd (London) 1931.

¹²Yorkshire Evening News, 7th August 1914.

¹³Dublin Daily Express, 30th September 1914.

¹⁴Ashmead-Bartlett, Ellis, Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 25, Hutchinson & Co. (London) 1928.

¹⁵Hankey quoted in Roskill, Stephen, Hankey, Man of Secrets. Volume 1, 1877-1918, p. 147, Collins (London) 1970.

¹⁶Ross, Malcolm and Ross, Noël, Light and Shade in War, pp. 28-29, Edward Arnold (London) 1916.

¹⁷The Advertiser (Adelaide, South Australia), 22nd January 1915.

¹⁸The Adelaide Advertiser (South Australia), 22nd January 1915.

¹⁹The Horsham Times (Victoria), 9th April 1915.

²⁰Fry was wounded at Gallipoli on 3rd May 1915. Evacuated to Egypt, he died of wounds at No, 15 General Hospital, Alexandria, on 10th May 1915. Buried in Alexandria (Chatby) Military and War Memorial Cemetery, he was the 23 year-old son of John and Eliza Fry, of Mount Barker, South Australia.

²¹West Coast Recorder (Port Lincoln, South Australia), 28th April 1915.

²²Fewster, Kevin (Ed.), Gallipoli Correspondent. The Frontline Diary of C.E.W. Bean, pp. 44-45, George Allen & Unwin (Sydney) 1983.

²³Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 25.

²⁴Charles Bean quoted in Fewster, Kevin (Ed.), Gallipoli Correspondent, p.46.

²⁵Murray Pioneer and Australian River Record (Renmark, South Australia), 18th March 1915.

²⁶Land and Water, 13th March 1915.

²⁷Schreiner, George Abel, From Berlin to Baghdad, pp. 148-149, Harper & Brothers (New York), 1918.

²⁸Oxford Times, 3rd April 1915.

²⁹Halloran died of wounds received at Gallipoli in Egypt on 7th September 1915. Buried in Alexandria (Chatby) Military and War Memorial Cemetery, he was the 23 year-old son of Horace Charles and Edith Maude Halloran, of Sydney, New South Wales.

³⁰The Sun (Sydney, New South Wales), 16th May 1915.

³¹The former reporter was killed in action on 8th August 1915. Commemorated on the Chunuk Bair (New Zealand) Memorial, he was the 23 year-old son of Hugh Murray and Elizabeth Kirk McLauchlan, of Main South Road, Dunedin.

³²Gisborne Times (New Zealand), 2nd September 1915.

³³Howell Arthur Gwynne quoted in Wilson, Keith (Ed.), The Rasp of War. The Letters of H. A. Gwynne to The Countess Bathurst 1914-1918, pp.83-85 (excerpt), Sidgwick & Jackson (London) 1988.

³⁴Lyttleton Times (New Zealand), 24th July 1915.

³⁵Camperdown Chronicle (Victoria), 15th June 1915.

³⁶Falkirk Herald, 12th May 1915.

³⁷Roberts, Chris, The Landing at Anzac, p. 3, Army History Unit (Canberra) 2013.

³⁸The Sydney Morning Herald (New South Wales), 9th May 1931.

³⁹The Sydney Morning Herald (New South Wales), 9th May 1931.

⁴⁰Noel Ross quoted in Ross, Malcolm & Ross, Noel, Light and Shade in War, p. 20, Longmans, Green & Co. (London) 1916.

⁴¹The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, New South Wales), 29th May 1915.

⁴²Dublin Daily Express, 27th April 1915.⁴³Ashmead-Bartlett, Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 59.

⁴⁴Leader (Orange, New South Wales), 15th October 1915.

⁴⁵Lyttelton Times (New Zealand), 23rd July 1915.

⁴⁶Rochdale Times, 9th June 1915.

⁴⁷Rochdale Times, 9th June 1915.⁴⁸Ashmead-Bartlett, Ellis, The Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 84.

⁴⁹Nevinson, Henry, The Dardanelles Campaign, p. 155, Henry Holt and Company (New York) 1919.

⁵⁰The Tamworth Daily Chronicle (New South Wales), 29th May 1915.

⁵¹Barrier Miner (Broken Hill, New South Wales), 6th September 1915.

⁵²Promoted Captain, the former teacher was killed at Pozieres on 24th July 1916. Buried in Becourt Military Cemetery, Becordel-Becourt, France, he was the 25 year-old son of John and Elizabeth James, of 11 Chisholm Street, Ballarat East, Victoria.

⁵³The Herald (Melbourne, Victoria), 2nd November 1915.

⁵⁴Bean quoted in Fewster (Ed.), Gallipoli Correspondent, p. 12.

⁵⁵Ashmead-Bartlett quoted in Macleod, Jenny, Reconsidering Gallipoli, p. 126, Manchester University Press (Manchester) 2004.

⁵⁶The Gundagai Times and Tumut, Adelong and Murrumbidgee District Advertiser (New South Wales), 9th November 1915.

⁵⁷Rochdale Times, 19th June 1915.

⁵⁸Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 113-117.

⁵⁹Swing, Raymond, Good Evening!” A Professional Memoir by Raymond Swing, pp. 96-98, Harcourt, Brace & World Inc. (New York) 1964.

⁶⁰Ruhl, Arthur Brown, From Antwerp to Gallipoli, pp. 222–223, Charles Scribner's Sons (New York), 1916.

⁶¹Riddell, Sir George, Lord Riddell's War Diary 1914-1918, p. 98, Ivor Nicholson & Watson (London), 1933.

⁶²Lloyd George, David, War Memoirs of David Lloyd George 1914-1915, p. 45, Little, Brown, and Company (Boston, Mass.) 1933.

⁶³One example, taken from an Admiralty chart, was published in The Sphere on 19th December 1914.

⁶⁴New Zealand Herald, 19th July 1915.

⁶⁵Ashburton Guardian (New Zealand), 27th July 1915.

⁶⁶The Press (New Zealand), 26th July 1915.

⁶⁷Pte Robert Cast, 1st Bn Lancashire Fusiliers, was killed in action on 25th April 1915. Commemorated on the Helles Memorial, he was the 27 year-old son of Jesse and Elizabeth Rebecca Cast, of 28 Railway Square, Brentwood, Essex. He was one of a number of men from 1st Lancashire Fusiliers who had been killed on the day of the landing at W Beach to be erroneously reported to have died on 11th May 1915.

⁶⁸Midland Counties Tribune, 25th June 1915.

⁶⁹Bristol Times and Mirror, 12th June 1915.

⁷⁰Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 129-130.

⁷¹Mackenzie, Compton, Gallipoli Memories, p. 176, Cassell and Company (London) 1929.

⁷²Mackenzie, Gallipoli Memories, pp. 197-199.

⁷³Bean quoted in Fewster (Ed.), Gallipoli Correspondent, p. 135.

⁷⁴Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary, Vol.1, p. 339.

⁷⁵Hamilton, Sir Ian, Gallipoli Diary, Vol. 2, pp. 269-270, Edward Arnold (London) 1920.

⁷⁶Mackenzie, Gallipoli Memories, pp. 237-238.

⁷⁷The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania), 31st May 1927.

⁷⁸Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 157-158.

⁷⁹Taranaki Herald (New Zealand), 11th September 1915.

⁸⁰Oxford Times, 14th August 1915.

⁸¹Harris died of wounds at sea on 9th August 1915. Commemorated on the Helles Memorial, he was the 21 year-old son of Reuben and Mary Harriet Harris, of 44 Pembroke Street, Cowley Road, Oxford.

⁸²Lyttelton Times (New Zealand), 15th September 1915.

⁸³In the Agricola Tacitus attributed a speech to a Caledonian chief, describing how the Romans “create a desolation and call it peace.”

⁸⁴Nottingham Guardian, 9th August 1915.

⁸⁵Yorke was killed in action on 10th August 1915. Buried in Embarkation Pier Cemetery, where he is commemorated by a special memorial, the former reporter for the 'Lyttelton Times' was the 24 year-old son of Joseph Courtenay Yorke and Ella Yorke, of Gonville, Wanganui, New Zealand, originally of Manchester, England.

⁸⁶Lyttelton Times (New Zealand), 1st October 1915.

⁸⁷Ashmead-Bartlett, Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 175.

⁸⁸River Falls Journal (River Falls, Pierce County, Wisconsin), 5th August 1915.

⁸⁹Mackenzie, Gallipoli Memories, p. 366.

⁹⁰Ashmead-Bartlett, The Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 177-179.

⁹¹The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, New South Wales), 26th August 1915.

⁹²Manawatu Standard (New Zealand), 25th October 1915.

⁹³Nottingham Evening Post, 7th September 1915.

⁹⁴Ashmead-Bartlett quoted in Macleod, Reconsidering Gallipoli, p. 108.

⁹⁵Ashmead-Bartlett, Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 235-236.

⁹⁶Manawatu Times (New Zealand), 16th November 1915.

⁹⁷Ashmead-Bartlett, Uncensored Dardanelles, pp. 235-236.

⁹⁸Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary, Vol. 2, p. 190.

⁹⁹Bean quoted in Fewster (Ed), Gallipoli Correspondent, pp. 156-157.

¹⁰⁰Ashmead-Bartlett, Uncensored Dardanelles, p. 247.

¹⁰¹Hankey quoted in Roskill, Stephen, Hankey. Man of Secrets. Volume 1 1877-1918, p. 220, Collins (London) 1970.

¹⁰²Secretary's Notes of a Meeting of the Dardanelles Committee Held at 10, Downing Street, October 6, 1915.

¹⁰³Hawke's Bay Tribune (New Zealand), 16th December 1915.

¹⁰⁴Reed, John, War in Eastern Europe. Travels Through the Balkans, p. 262, Charles Scribner's Sons (New York) 1918.

¹⁰⁵Riddell, Lord Riddell's War Diary 1914-1918, pp. 125-126.

¹⁰⁶Hansard, The Balkans, House of Lords Debate, 14th October 1915.

¹⁰⁷Gwynne to Sir John Simon quoted in Wilson, (Ed), The Rasp of War, p. 139.

¹⁰⁸Auckland Star (New Zealand), 23rd December 1915.

¹⁰⁹Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser (Queensland), 9th December 1915.

¹¹⁰Hawera & Normanby Star (New Zealand), 4th November 1915.

¹¹¹Evening Mail (London), 1st December 1915.

¹¹²Awarded the DCM and commissioned for his services on the Western Front, Lieutenant Garland was killed with 48th Battalion in France on 3rd May 1918. Buried in Adelaide Cemetery, Villers-Bretonneux, he was the son of Hugh Arbuthnot Garland and Annie Garland, originally of Alberton, South Australia.

¹¹³Daily Herald (South Australia), 13th January 1916.

¹¹⁴Nevinson, Henry, The Dardanelles Campaign, p. 384, Nisbet & Co. Ltd. (London) 1920.

¹¹⁵Gisborne Times (New Zealand), 3rd December 1915.

¹¹⁶Oxford Times, 5th February 1916.

¹¹⁷Manchester Evening News, 28th December 1915.

¹¹⁸Grey River Argus (New Zealand), 5th January 1916.

¹¹⁹Birmingham Gazette, 27th January 1916.

¹²⁰Birmingham Gazette, 27th January 1916.

¹²¹Repington, Charles à Court, The First World War 1914-1918: Personal Experiences of Charles à Court Repington, Vol. 1, pp. 104-105, Houghton Mifflin Company (Boston, New York) 1920.