Diary of Trooper Ion Llewellyn Idriess-1917-1918 - Part 3

guns. Then a high explosive
burst nine yards in front of
the guns, and the cloud of
black smoke drifting over
the 9 two guns and hid
them from sight. But out
of the black cloud came
the flashes of the two little
guns in reply. Then shell
after shell burst above the
guns, shrapnel lashing the
guns and ground close by
with vicious hail, high
explosive bursting be
within a few yards of
the guns, their screaming
fragments striking the gun shields
and wheels. The Turks were
fair on to the guns. For
a while the men worked
their guns without the
slightest wavering, but
presently the order came to
cease fire, and the gunners
all crouched underneath their
guns, seeking what frail
shelter they could from the
screaming hail that lashed
the guns and earth all around
them. Most of our regiment
were watching from our hill,
and expecting every second
to a high explosive to
directly hit a gun and smash
men and guns to splinters.
But the Turkish shells missed
direct hits by feet only. Our
two guns were effectually
silenced for the rest of
the afternoon. The day after.
Yesterday evening Col. Cameron
sent for me, and said that
the tracks of a Turkish patrol
were seen coming from one
of their strong positions, and
climbing the hills by a
goat track, halted on a
high hill and evidently
 

had been spying on our camp
in the early morning. The
Colonel suggested that if Morry
and Stan and I were willing,
we could go out in the
night, get somewhere near
the Turkish position, and
climbing up the goat track
in the early dawn, catch
the patrol coming back to
their own camp should
they try the same game
again. Of course we were
only too willing. So about
an hour after dark we
went out, dismounted,
passed our own outposts,
and then began a walk
u in dark, down perecipitous
hills that a man
could hardly get foot hold
on, through prickly bushes
that crackled underfoot and
gave us the impression
that every Turkish outpost
within miles must hear us.
Staring at bushes on the sky
line that might be a Turkish
sentry, never knowing any
second when a volley would
be poured into us by the
waiting enemy from a
few yards range. Late
that night we climbed down
a big valley that runs in
front of the Turkish position
We hid for a few hours in a
cave that I suppose has
sheltered the blooming Israelites.
Just before the grey of
dawn we crept down the
valley, and found the goat
track that climbs the steep
hill that leads towards our
position. We hoped very
much that the Turkish patrol
was away up the hill
ahead of us, but our luck
 

was out. On getting to
the top of the hill we
looked back along the
valley. The sun was rising,
and lit up the Turkish
positions on the crowns of
the high hills very prettily.
In places white houses
were hidden away on the
hilltops, and their white
stone sparkled very
prettily in the growing
sunlight. But there was
no sign of the patrol
we were after, so we
had to come back to camp
empty handed. ' ' '  Morning.
Our battery changed its
position, and now it
and the Turkish guns are
having another duel a
few hundred yard  away.
The Turks have brought
up more guns, and now
again these old hills are
echoing and reechoing to
the crash of bursting shells
and the reports of the guns.
Fragments of shell and
pellets of shrapnel are
falling in among us, the
shells from both sides are
screaming overhead, and
altogether there is the devil
of a row and unpleasantness
 going on.  ...   A few hours
after. We were all sitting down
having dinner, when "Crash"
Screeching pellets, flying fragments 

of iron and rock
smashed down right among
men and horses. Some men
down, some horses were down
others rearing on their hind
legs, one poor brute stood on
head for seconds before it
collapsed and rolled down
the hill. "Crash" Crash "Crash
 

Crash" screaming shells and a
hail of jagged iron and lead.
Some more men were down,
and more horses had dropped,
some stone dead, others dying
and writhing for foothold
on the rocky hillside. Other
horses, not wounded to death,
just stood still, I suppose
the poor devils were dumbly
wondering why earth had
been transformed so suddenly
into hell. All of us made a
rush to help wounded men,
or hold the horses, or seek
what poor shelter the hillside
afforded. The Turkish guns
were right on to us, and
were bursting their shells
just above the brow of the
hill, where the leaden hail
just spat down amongst us.
It was very powerful
shr explosive they were
 using; instead of the whole empty
shrapnel case whizzing to the
earth, it would burst into
scores of jagged fragments, and
these would add to the inferno
of shrapnel bullets. One horse
had his neck cut clean in
half by one of these jagged
fragments of iron. Just a
few shells, direct hits, and
what a mess they made. And
for the rest of the afternoon
it was helping the wounded,
trying to get cover for the
unwounded horses, and shooting
the poor brutes of horses that
were wounded too badly to
save. At times the Turkish
guns would swing their guns
off us, and plaster our
own battery, or any dust
that betrayed the presence of
some of our horsemen
seeking cover. Then suddenly
 

the air above us would
be rent by bursting
shells, and the inferno was
amongst us again. We blame
the accursed Bedouins for
betraying our positions to
the Turkish gunners. They
swarm in the hills behind
us, and stand watching us
all day. We are not allowed
to touch them, and are
threatened with death if we
take so much as one of
their sheep. Looking up the
hill that evening, with
its bloodstained rocks
and dead horses, made a
man think what a miserable,
rotten thing this
war is. The worst of it
was that we could not
fire a shot back in reply.
The Turk sticks to his
deep redoubts on the tops
 of the high hills, and waits
for us to climb them panting
and dig him out with the
bayonet. He can fight while he
has got all the protection on
his side. Next day. Last night
we lined the big hill in case the
Turk should attack. But no
such luck. This morning at
three we were up, saddled
the horses, and the whole
Brigade moved back towards
Beersheba. As we climbed the
hills down into the valley, the
sky for miles above the
hill tops towards Hareria
was lit up by continual
lightning, and resounded
with the echoes of rolling
thunder. It was the guns of
both sides an in action
so we got near Beersheeba,
there was added to the
deep thunder of the guns the
 

sharp rolling roar of rifle
and machine gun fire.
It was the New Zealand
Brigade in action close by.
About 4 p.m. We are within
a couple of miles of Beersheba
and have just
watered the horses, and
word comes along that
the Brigade will move
out immediately. Finish
all hopes of a nights
sleep. Morrys horse was
wounded yesterday, and
he had to go away to the
Mobile Column. Next morning
We left our camp yesterday
afternoon, and travelled
all through the long, dreary
night. Transport columns,
cat camel columns ambulance
columns, artillery, and
our own Brigade, through
choking dust all the way,
 so thick that the parallel
columns, running a few
yards apart could not
see each other. Up and down
gullies, over hills, the smell
every now and then of
dead horses pa and the
almost paralysing wish
for sleep. Ever before us
the lightning of flashes of
the enemies guns waiting
for us. At four o'clock
this morning we halted in
this wadi, and ever since
the enemy has been searching
the gullies round about with
his artillery. Yesterday a
Welsh battalion got badly
cut up here, according to
accounts of the men of the
battalion still here. They
took a Turkish redoubt,
but the Turks counter
attacked, and in the
 

forced retirement the
Welshmen lost very heavily.
We are waiting now to go
into action. It is horrible
this waiting. A mans nerves
are bad enough through
want of sleep, let alone
what else we have gone
through, and this waiting,
waiting is awful. Everyone
in the Brigade has been
out of tobacco for days.
We miss our smoking
dreadfully. Men are smoking
horse manure, tibbin
grass, dried tea leaves,
anything that will smoke.
Why they will not send
at us out tobacco, goodness
only knows. The day after,
very early morning. We moved
out at last, but not into
action straight away. We
followed the wadi down
until it opened into a wide
plain, with the big Judaean
hills on our right, and the
very strong positions of
Sharia and Harerard on our
left. All around us, & the
Turkish guns were firing.
Presently General Chayter came
along, and soon after we
took cover behind some high
chalk hills. Here were big
stacks of Turkish ammunition
some transport waggons,
showing that the Turks had
apparently retired in haste
before us. From the top of
the hill we saw a grand
sight on the plains before us.
There were the red station
houses of Sharia, the tents
of the Turkish camp, and the
strong Turkish positions. Advancing
steadily just behind
a heavy barrage of high
 

explosive shells, were long
lines of our infantry. Ahead
of them were the Turks running
back, and away on their
right, at full gallop amid
a cloud of dust, were the
first L.H. Brigade, endeavouring

to encircle the
retreating Turks. Above
all was the bursting
Turkish shrapnel. Soon after
it came our turn to leave
the hill, and away the
whole brigade went full
gallop out on to the
plain. But the Turks
were being handled too
severely, and except
for pelting us lightly
with shrapnel, they left
us alone. We steadied
down to a walk, and
just watched the shells
bursting in among the
troops and doing no damage
to speak of. I think those Turkish
gunners must have had the wind
up them. The Turks in the hills
miles to our right, the beggars
who shelled us a few days ago,
were doing their best to shell
our right camp flank. And
towards Gaza, on our left, the
Turkish big guns were sending
in their high explosives. Presently
we halted, and shortly after
along came a long line of
Turkish prisoners, a string of
infantry, a few cavalry, and
some little transport waggons,
drawn by queer oxen. There
were over 400 of them with
a few German officers thrown
in. They were the first Brigade's
capture. Now for some time
there were two guns, that
had been annoying us
very much. They were
 

about four miles straight
ahead of us. Presently up
came the old Brigadier at
a band gallop, pipe alight,
and we knew that soon
there would be something
doing. The Turks were
putting their shells right 

in front of us, while we
sheltered behind his railway
line. Soon the fifth
g formed into artillery
formation, and away we
went, full gallop towards
the guns. It was a long
gallop, and how those
guns plastered us with
shells while we were
coming. It was a grand
gallop, close on three miles.
Then came the sharp rattle
of machine guns and
the whizzing of rifle bullets.
We knew then that he
had his guns heavily supported.
We galloped over a hill
into a gully, and were well
protected by its bank. Over this
gully bank for eight hundred
yards was flat ground, under
full fire from the Turkish
machine guns. Then came a
very small rise, from where we
could get a little protection,
and be in close range of
the Turkish riflemen. So the
first troop of men got ready,
got their horses close to the
bank, simultaneously put
their spurs in and at full
gallop went up the bank
and away. And what a
hail of bullets and shrapnel
greeted them as they went
over the sky line. Then
another troop went over
three sections at a time.
By this time the Turks
 

knew exactly where our men
galloped from the gulley up on
to the skyline, and they
trained their guns on the
exact narrow spot, their
riflemen and machine
gunners tore their bullets
into the one narrow little
lane. It came our turn
to cross over. The three
sections jammed close
together under the bank.
Crash! Crash. Two shells burst
on top of the bank, the
fragments shrieking
across over our heads.
In a dense cloud of black
smoke and dust i we
spurred our horses up
the bank before the Turkish
gunners could jam
more shells into their guns.
Up on the bank then, in
full sight of the Turks,
spurs in our horses, at mad
gallop. "Crash" Crash" A
blinding flame on the ground
a few yards to my right,
then a crash of shrapnel,
screaming fragments of
shell dust, putrid smoke
whistling bullets, the
tearing whistle of machine
gun bullets at high pressure,
straining hold on our
maddened horses, and
Christ, a steep gully right
in front. A breakneck
swerve, the awful
feeling of precious
seconds while we found
a crossing over the gully,
the screaming crash
of shells passing within
feet of us, the dust
spouting up in dust front
from the bullets, others
hot breath whistling