Letters below are mostly as they were written.
BERT’S LETTERS
LETTERS WRITTEN BY UNCLE BERT AND PUBLISHED IN THE JERILDERIE HERALD AND
URANA ADVERTISER – July 9 1915.
THE DARDANELLES – A SOLDIER’S LETTER
The
following highly interesting letter has been received from Private Bert
Smythe, an old Jerilderie boy who was wounded in operations at the
Dardanelles.
THE LANDING
Half a mile from shore the troops were under shrapnel fire and many a
poor chap never got off the destroyers and many more were killed in the
boats by rifle, machine gun and shrapnel fire. One boat was struck on
the waterline by a concussion shrapnel and of course sank and some of
the men were drowned. One chap swam ashore with the whole of his kit
and rifle, though how the dickens he did it I don’t know. A couple of
pontoons loaded with troops broke loose from the tow and the Turks got
the machine guns on to them and killed every man in them.
Once our
boys got ashore they soon rooted out all the Turks; they charged them
with the bayonet. I heard that one officer, only a mere boy bagged five
with a revolver. They got the Turks on the run and after a while the
Turks, seeing how eager they were to charge, led them on two or three
times and then raked them with machine guns and shrapnel. Consequently
the Third Brigade, though they did not, comparatively speaking, lose
very many in the actual landing were pretty severely cut up before
reinforcements were able to reach them. We landed in a bad place and
it’s just as well. The Turks were expecting us at another place and had
we gone there we would never have made it ashore. They had guns and
machine guns, splendid trenches, obstacles and even barbed wire
entanglements and mines in the water to welcome us with. Where we
actually did land was not very well guarded and we sort of surprised
them and we got ashore and established ourselves before they could bring
sufficient troops to prevent us. Once we got ashore it was just a matter
of holding on. The 3rd Brigade’s turn came about 8 a.m. and A Co, went
first. I was OK until I saw the bodies of four poor beggars on the
destroyer covered with a tarpaulin. The blood was running out from
under it and it quite upset me. Didn’t get my nerve back until we got
into the rowing boat and then I was OK.
The shrapnel was bursting all around us at intervals but our boat
escaped and landed without any casualties. When the boats got fairly
close in we hopped out. I picked out a nice shallow part up to my knees
but didn’t get three feet before it was almost to my waist. One of our
boys stood on a stone and it rolled and he went right under. We had
no opposition in landing, except for the shrapnel as the 3rd Brigade
had cleared out all the beggars out from the beach. After a short rest
in a ravine we pushed on. Talk about a hill! We had to simply pull
ourselves up by the undergrowth in places. None of them were very high
but they were all very steep and we had to stop for a spell every little
while. It was during one of these short spells that we had our
first casualty. A bullet got Sergeant Cavill in the neck and killed
him.
The bullets from the fighting in front were flying around pretty thick.
You could hear in every direction the sharp crack as they
passed. Finally we got on the top of the hill with a pretty good trench
in it. The fact that it was a Turkish trench didn’t worry
our consciences in the least. We just took possession of it and
inwardly thanked the Turks for saving us the trouble of digging one.
Unfortunately it had no field of fire, so we got up on to the crest of
the hill and tried to pick out some of the Turks who were now potting at
us both with rifles and machine guns. But we could not see a sign of
them as the whole country is covered with scrub about 3ft high – ideal
country for snipers and machine guns – and of course they were
effectively concealed. We dug ourselves in, so that we were safe
from rifle fire. It’s lovely work lying so close to the ground as a
snake and trying to dig yourself a trench at the same time.
SHRAPNEL FIRE
About noon we had artillery turned on us again and it was lovely. We
had no protection against the shrapnel so we had to grin and bear it.
Every few seconds a shell would burst, sometimes near us and sometimes a
bit off and they kept our nerves on edge all the time. Shrapnel looks
very pretty. The shell bursts up in the air and makes a pretty cloud
of white smoke and when several burst near each other at the same time
the effect is very striking. But when the shooting is good it is very
nerve racking. The shell can be heard some distance off coming with
half a scream and half hiss, culminating in a deafening report as the
charge in the shell explodes and drives 300 bullets in a steep angle to
the ground with great velocity. Sometimes the case of the shell is
blown to pieces by the charge but more often it falls to the ground
intact.
THE SNIPER
During
the four days that I was there, there were several 3rd Division officers
killed and wounded and when I left our Colonel Owen was in charge of the
1st and 2nd Brigade – 8 Battalions. Both our Brigadier and Brigade Major
were killed. Our Brigade Major was in our trench just before he was
killed. He was standing in a part of the trench labelled “Dangerous”
and Major Brown remonstrated with him, telling him to come away or he’d
be sniped and he said, “I’m here to be sniped at.” Ten minutes later we
heard that he was killed. We got practically no sleep on the Sunday
night as the
enemy
kept up persistent fire the whole night long and threatened us with
bayonet attacks several times. Just after sunset I took some ammunition
to the right where they were running out. I was warned about a bit of
open ground that I had to cross so I rushed over. Luckily the beggar
missed me and I got over OK. It was funny coming back. I made a rush
and fell over half way but got up mighty quick I can tell you. He must
have been unprepared for me because he did not pot at me. Next day was
pretty warm work. They never gave us an instant’s peace. I was on
observing nearly the whole of the time, Major Brown lending me his
glasses.
TURKS CUT UP
About 5 p.m. our company Sergeant Major McGregor, a fine old chap and a
pal of mine, was shot dead by a sniper. The bullet hit him between the
eyes. The enemy have a battalion of sharpshooters and I think they had
them scattered along our front to snipe us off whenever a man exposed
himself. One of our scouts found one sniper in a lovely hidden
trench behind half a bush, all the earth completely hidden and a
loophole to shoot through. He had a week’s provisions and 1000 rounds
of ammunition with him, so he was pretty well set up, wasn’t he?
FIRST GOOD VIEW OF THE TURKS
On
Monday morning we had our first good view of the Turks and it was not
very disastrous to them either. They were crossing a bridge about 600
yards off and as soon as they appeared a heavy fire was opened on them
but as they were running across us, very little damage was done. We had
hardly started firing before “Cease Fire” was sounded as they were our
own men. Major Brown put the glasses on them and roared out, “Fire men,
fire they are not our men they are Turks.” They see-sawed about four
tines until finally just after they proved to be Turks, they disappeared
in a crevice. Major Brown was fairly ramping over it. He
actually had a shot at them himself and said he bagged one. I had a
shot too but without result.
Just about sundown we got word that the French were expected in about
and hour and everything had to be done with a bayonet, so we all got
ready for a charge. Major Brown went down to the outpost trench to lead
the charge but things got so hot that we had to get into the trench.
They were giving us fair H--- with their shrapnel. Our artillery was
quiet for some reason and I suppose the Turks thought they had better
rip it in hot while they could.
NARROW SHAVES
Again there was no more sleep for us during the night. I was observing
practically all the time. The nights were beautiful and clear with a
lovely moon. The moon had its advantages and disadvantages. It
prevented the enemy getting so close that they could charge without
warning and at the same time it rendered unsafe for us to knock about
outside the trenches. Next morning Major Brown went in to the hospital
and I reported to the next in charge and while observing for him
incurred the displeasure of some or perhaps only one sniper, who potted
at me consistently whenever I gave him a chance.
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