Thomas James Richards, Diaries, Transcript Vol. 2 - Part 12

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If there is stretcher-bearing work to do they are not
so bad, although even here there is bitter jealousy as
to which section is doing the work. I am sick of all
this squeaking and pettiness. It makes me feel so
wretched.
It is 8.45 p.m. at the moment of writing
sitting hunched up in my single apartment dugout with a
lamp burning splendid - some fat I boiled from a 7 lb.
tin of Torrens Creek meat.
4th August, 1915. Beachy Bill did a lot of work last
evening and night. He fired from 8 till 11 p.m. along
the beach and must have done considerable damage as the
supply depot is crowded with men and mules at this time
of night. Our guns exchanged shots with him, but if our
gunners are no better shots than theirs are it will
take a long time to knock "Beachy Bill" out of position.
One of our guns is on a ledge close to the skyline at
the top of our highest hill and I suppose the Turks
have fired 3000 shots at it over the past 14 weeks
but it still exists. Our big monitor with Howitzer guns
should get them from the sea, more so now that "Beachy
Bill" has two companions judging from the salvoes of
shots that forced their path through the complaining
atmosphere a few yards overhead. It is a queer feeling
to hear a shell approaching in your immediate direction,
not knowing where it is likely to burst, and because a
dozen others passed safely over, one hates to pay John
Turk the compliment of ducking. There he grips his
courage and takes "no notice."
Down at the beach this morning a sharpshooter 

was playing along the front. I changed (by
taking off the shirt I sleep in) and ran into the water.
Above me were some newly-arrived Scotsmen (we have
hundreds now) washing their clothes. A number of
 

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bullets passed within a short distance of them and
others struck the water not 10 yards away. Still on
their haunches they went on with their washing. An
Australian water-carrier went by and forgetting entirely
that he was in the narrow strip of firing area between
the walls of the hills and the ocean, told the three
Scotsmen that they would be getting shot through the guts
if they did not get out. The lads said "What! Are the
b------- shooting at us?" "My b----- oath," said the
Australian, at which they all three scattered over the
shingle beach in an exasperating hurry, and the Australian 
angrily said "Strike me dead! There's no need
for such a b------ rush. You’ll let the b---ted see
he's on the right spot." (Referring of course to the
sniper.)
I was nearly forgetting that I was awakened
at 6 o'clock this morning by hearing something tearing
and roaring through the air. It sounded like an aeroplane 
bomb so I hopped out, taking my camera, and behold
the black smoke of an aeroplane bomb followed by an
explosion that shook the ground the vibrated through the
air. I was too slow with the camera and missed what
might have been a good picture only 40 yards away from
where I stood. Yes, it was close all right but it did
not seriously disturb any of us. We are getting used to
them and reconcile ourselves easily to aeroplane or any
other bombs.
On coming up to duty this morning I met an
Indian mountain battery party out drilling. The whole of
the gun and four boxes of ammunition were carried on some
7 mules and when the order was given to "mount gun"
everybody repeated it and rushed up to the position
dropping the wheels, gun, barrel, etc. from the backs
of the fine animals and had the gun set up in very quick
time indeed. The gun was also quickly dismantled and
 

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strapped the mules ready to move off. I got three photographs 
of them.
It is now 9.15 a.m. and with the squad I
am sitting in a dug-out waiting for wounded or any report
of them. Our term of waiting is from 7 to 1 o'clock.
I was up at the 9th Battalion last night
talking to George Barr. The men here are wild to think
that 37 men were killed and 70 wounded the other night to
take a trench that we could have had simply for the
digging of it weeks ago. This whole ridge was idle for
weeks and while we were putting in time digging in behind
the present lines we could have built up this trench
for nothing, whereas it cost us weeks of digging and
37 good men. Our old miners laugh at the engineering
section's attempts at survey work or tunnelling, sapping.
They are often 3 yards out in a distance of 10 yards.
This department is a laughing stock amongst those who
know anything of mining affairs.
"Beachy Bill" has been playing up all day
long. Last night he kept playing on to the town beach
while we landed some 8000 troops and, strange to say,
without much injury as they were all hurried away off the
beach and by some extraordinary account this seemed to be
between the lulls of shrapnel fire.
In the afternoon of to-day Achi Baba
got hell from our warships. They fairly tore it up for
30 minutes or so and yet I would like to see them stick
to the shelling for hours instead of minutes and the
lives of our poor infantry would be much safer when the
time comes to charge.
Many reinforcements joined us to-day and
it is now pretty certain that we will soon be attacking
John Turk again. Tons of material are going into the
trenches.
 

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According to George Barr the new arrivals are
very touchy and fire like mad at the first suspicion of
an object in the dark and which are purely imaginary.
Some can see battalions of men and all sorts of imaginary
things and beings. George is a quiet and patient fellow
and often runs foul of an alarmist Captain who keeps his
men at high tension all the time, which the sterner and
cooler man objects to. Well, one afternoon 40 minutes
before dusk our men fired five rounds rapid and cheered
wildly. This no doubt brought John Turk to his feet but
he hardly fired a shot. 45 minutes later the Turk
did exactly the same thing and had our fellows firing
madly. We were caught at our own game. Wasted ammunition.
5th August, 1915. My squad had three hours digging to
do to-day so I chose to commence the job at 6 a.m.
This we did and are thankful to think we dodged the heat
of the day so well.
I am sitting in Dr. Marks' dressing station
and the conversation is being directed upon the wealth
of each member upon his return home. It's a fact too
that some of the fellows will have more money than ever
they dreamt of and that they are likely to cut loose and
spend it all before they think of looking for work.
There are a lot of ellows right enough who will be
landed and have their legs pulled by their so-called
friends who will help them to spend their savings in
debauchery. Then again of course it will do a lot of
young good and start them off in life brilliantly and
well.
In this common type of discussion with us
it is astounding the brude rough fellows that claim to
have just bought a new suit and turnout of clothes
before leaving - some of them three suits - and so the
few pounds to their credit on return will compensate,
that's all.
 

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6th August, 1915. It is nearly 6 o'clock now. We 
have been working hard from very early morning amongst
the wounded and such smashed and battered men one never
saw. It was purely a bomb fight in the trenches taken
from John Turk about four days ago by the 11th Battalion,
in which engagement our losses totalled some 37 killed
and 70 wounded, many of whom will die. To-day's tally
will probably be similar. Later. Killed 49, wounded
120. It appears that the Turk crept up to our trenches
which have taken a lot of work to build up and hold, and
filled them up with bombs actually before our men knew
anything about it. The Turk took possession of about 50
yards of the 300 of lost trenches driving our men out
but reinforcements and hard fighting in turn drove the
Turk out and though we gained to-day we lost heavily.
The bombs knocked and shattered our men over the whole
of the body. Some cases were swaddled in cotton wool
gauze and bandages from the hips right down to the feet.
Sad sights they were. Worse even was the congestion
down on the beach where the poor fellows, with marvellous
fortitude, lay about in dozens and even there "Beachy
Bill" and a gun from over the middle front showered in sh
shrapnel meant chiefly for the 10th Ghurka Indians who
paid a particularly hurried landing. So many troops were
landing this morning and over-night too that the small
launches did not appear to be available to take the
wounded aboard the hospital ship. The landing Indians
looked very frightened as they scrambled one over the
other out of the barge and raced along the beach for
shelter where they immediately regained their composure
and wore a bright, harmless expression of a child. I
like their loose supple limbs and their general
physique. They reminded me of Japanese both by their
short stature and the features, being only a little
darker in colour. They are very unlike the Indians
 

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that run our mule transport or the better fellow perhaps
on the mountain batteries. The Ambulance men worked
wonderfully well this morning and kept the way open
splendidly. Another bombardment has commenced now.
All of our big guns are working like hell tossing shells
on to the Turks' lines. Warships are battering up Gaba
Tepe and Achi Baba. Huge clouds of smoke grow up like
the bean tree in Jack the Beanstalk pantomime and after
rising to a height of 80 ft. disperse.
At the moment we are on the eve of a monster
engagement. All arrangements are thorough and all ready
prepared to advance. Each soldier and men have white
arm-bands and a square patch of white material sewn on
the back. It's going to be a rough-house to-night and
our poor men - they must, they will get knocked about
and battered over and over again.
This morning early I went out through the
tunnel under the original firing line to the advanced
aid post where there were 21 seriously wounded lying about
in all weird heart-breaking positions. We took a brick
of a fellow with an arm practically blown off at the
shoulder, and after scrambling over the bodies of some
eight Turks, we reached the way out. It's uncanny
walking on dead bodies!
7th August, 1915. War; war with a vengeance! There
is no word or, for that matter, series of words that can
convey, any realistic idea as to what war actually means.
Dante's vivid description of the inferno - an Hindo
idea of Hell are as nothing compared to it.
I was going to write up last night's
noise of bombardment but it is now 7 a.m. and I am
ordered to go down with the squad and carry from our
camp station to the beach.
 

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At this moment of writing (6.30 p.m.) with
a lovely sunset dedecking the west, the battle has been
raging 25 hours and from all quarters the wounded have
been streaming in as happy as sand boys at the great
progress we have been making all around. We are paying
our price - a bitter price too. I am too tired and
light-headed to write just now but will have to try and
make a job of it to-morrow, but then we A.M.C. men will
have to keep going until the trouble subsides. Just now
rifle fire is slack but one hour ago it was fierce. The
warships are going the pace with their big guns on our
left flank. I feel confident that we have taken Mr.
John Turk by surprise this time as at 9 o'clock this
morning we had some 2000 prisoners in hand and to do
them justice they were a rather good physical type of man.
Their boots were worn and their clothes patched a bit
but this can be understood as they have been in the field
a long time.
Our General put up a good stunt by bombarding
Gaba Tepe beach as if preparing to land troops there
but last night but behold when daylight broke there were
transports, warships and dozen of unclassable ships
standing off Suvla Bay on the salt lake. We landed some
thousands of men there and these seem to have had very
little trouble in making ground, and though the hill
commanding the whole of the Peninsula, cutting of Achi
Baba and Turkish communications (709 I think) has not
yet fallen into our hands it must surely do so and then
the Turks' fate is sealed once and for all. And God!
what a relief it will be to get away from this truly
bloody place. The reality of war I have been through
it is relentlessly cruel and does not give a brave man
a dog's chance.
 

- 115 -
8th August, 1915. It is 39 hours since we commenced the
attack and it seems as unsettled as ever. The 1st Brigade
made some 300 yards of ground and drove the Turks out
of three lines of trenches but John is/still holding the
fourth and knocking fair hell out of our poor men with
bombs. A stream of stretcher and walking cases still
continue to come down but, thank goodness, the ambulance
units and dressing stations are able to avoid congestion.
Yesterday morning the poor fellows were lying in hundreds
around the beach - a truly terrible sight. I have been
working from 12 until 7 this morning without hardly a
break and feel perfectly done up. It is now 8 a.m..
I am going to try and sleep but those fine fellows being
cut and battered to fragments (our men are walking over
the bodies of their comrades) keeps me awake, more so
as I know that the 16 weeks here of awfully hard digging
and fatigue with an average daily sleep of 6 hours on
the poorest class of food, has weakened the men to such
an extent that I fear nature will not stand to them in
a long stubborn engagement. Sick parade each morning
for weeks past have been up to 126 from one battalion
and I understand this is a fair average all round.
Even then, the double issues of rum that have been dealt
out lately will have a lowering effect on the system as
it wears off, and with matters at such a high tension
as they have been for the last 38 hours I fear for our
men very seriously. They should have been fed better or
at least have had the advantages of a canteen. They
would then at the moment be a dozen times the men. Tired
and languid they take all unnecessary risks. It's the
devil!
Information as to our exact position and
what our fortune is scarce. We don't know at all.
 

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The warships are crowded in around Suvla Bay
and doing quite a lot of firing. The Turk is not doing
much with his artillery. It's essentially a bomb fight
with him. Bombs make terrible wounds too. We should get
Hill 971 all right. I don't know how the Turk sticks
out against our huge guns at all. He must be a great
fighter. I must try to sleep now, as our work carrying
heavy men is extremely hard.
This battle has now been raging 48 hours, and
though I still feel confident of a complete victory the
news leaking through from all kinds of sources is not
so glowing as it was yesterday. One pleasing feature is
the fact that very few wounded are now coming down from
the 1st Brigade and very little rifle fire can be heard
nearby, though on the left there are occasional rallies
that sound quite a long way off. I am feverish to-day
and not up to much or I certainly would go up to the
firing line and have a look around.
The stories one gets from the wounded are at
times interesting, but usually they don't know much of
things outside of their own little environment and then
most of them are so wrapped up in their business that they
see but little of what is going on. I met the first
"squeaker" of the battle this morning. He was a bombthrower
and was only slightly wounded for which he should
have been thankful. Instead he pleaded, "This is what
a man gets for volunteering to throw bombs. They rush
you up into the trench in the dark and let you go without 
knowing where to throw or how far to throw. No more
bloody war for me, not if the Germs do rule the world."
This, thank goodness, is an exceptional case and both
his spirit and his mind can be gauged from his lack of
knowledge as to the contents of the bombs he was throwing.
 

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When we are working night and day to succour the
wounded it jars to get one waster like this one. I
have made mention of this case just to let one see the
effect of a squeaker on all hands he meets.
The warships are firing freely from time
to time. I think John Turk is wonderful to stand and
fight on with all the machinery of war opposed to him.
Bombs seem to be the Turks' chief fighting feature just
now and he seems to over-shadow us in this particular
department of the game.
I am/still anxious for our boys whose
physique must fail them. Nature cannot hang out.
There are a lot of Englishmen waiting back as reserves,
and alas, the 12th Battalion was sent into the front as
reinforcements, and although the wounded have ceased to
pour down our tally is about 950 stretcher and walking
cases.
It is Sunday. I guess there will be no
services held this day.
9th August, 1915. My head is burning and my body
shivering. Fever of some kind, I presume, but nothing
very serious nevertheless.
This afternoon I had an opportunity of
seeing the trenches taken from the Turks. They seem
almost impregnable - roofed over with cypress pine logs.
But this is a story for when the light is not so far gone
as at present. I took six photographs.
I have been sleeping nearly all day. So
soundly did I sleep that I had a dream of seeing two
wonderfully fine boxes in combat. It was a good
interesting encounter and, I believe, did me a lot of
good in the way of entertainment. This is my first, or
thereabouts, dream on the Peninsula.