A Marine at Gallipoli on the Western Front Read online

  To my wife

  First published in Great Britain in 2015 by

  Pen & Sword Military

  an imprint of

  Pen & Sword Books Ltd

  47 Church Street

  Barnsley

  South Yorkshire

  S70 2AS

  Copyright © Estate of Harry Askin 2015

  ISBN 978 1 47382 784 4

  The right of the estate of Harry Askin to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1 27 February 1915 – The Voyage

  Chapter 2 25 April 1915 – Action

  Chapter 3 3 May – Out Of Action

  Chapter 4 15 June – Cape Helles

  Chapter 5 10 July 1915 – That ‘wee bit muck’

  Chapter 6 15 July – Hopes For England

  Chapter 7 August 1915 – Dragging On

  Chapter 8 December 1915 – The Evacuation

  Chapter 9 10 January 1916 – Mudros

  Chapter 10 12 February 1916 – Malta

  Chapter 11 14 March 1916 – Macedonia

  Chapter 12 Gleanings from Gallipoli

  Chapter 13 What the Turks Can Say of Us

  Chapter 14 More Hopes of Blighty

  Chapter 15 28 May 1916 – Action in France – With Pick and Shovel

  Chapter 16 13 June 1916 – Instruction in Trench Warfare

  Chapter 17 Midsummer 1916 – A Cruel Experience

  Chapter 18 Monotony Sets In

  Chapter 19 July 1916 – We Relieve 47th Division

  Chapter 20 July 1916 – In Bully Grenay

  Chapter 21 September 1916 – Training for a Big Push

  Chapter 22 October 1916 – The Battle of the Ancre

  Chapter 23 17 November 1916 – We Recuperate at the Seaside

  Chapter 24 January 1917 – Back to the Ancre

  Chapter 25 The RN Division persuade Jerry to Retreat

  Chapter 26 February 1917 – A Change of Scenery

  Chapter 27 March 1917 – Standing by for the Arras Push

  Chapter 28 24 April 1917 – Gavrelle and a Few Casualties

  Chapter 29 28 April 1917 – The Pleasures of being Wounded

  Chapter 30 13 May 1917 – A Little Fighting and a Lot of Digging

  Chapter 31 15 July 1917 – A Pleasant Interlude

  Chapter 32 August 1917 – Odds and Ends at Gavrelle

  Chapter 33 September 1917 – Now for the Salient

  Chapter 34 18 October 1917 – Blighty and a Commission

  Chapter 35 Odds and Ends

  Chapter 36 11 November 1918

  Appendix: Artillery Employed for V Corps Attack in Battle of the Ancre

  Introduction

  I have tried in the following pages to give a true and unexaggerated account of my travels and of all that happened to me from leaving England, under orders with the MEF, to landing at Marseilles, where we were taken over by the BEF.

  The first chapter of my book was actually written during the voyage, the rest I have taken from my memory, aided by my diaries, which I kept almost religiously, often entering notes under heavy fire but always sticking strictly to facts.

  It is impossible to set down in writing just what those months on the Peninsula meant to me and to all the other fellows there and I have been content to write down the chief items of interest.

  I may as well state here that I enlisted in the Royal Marines on 22 September 1914 at Nottingham and was sent from there to Portsmouth.

  The interval between joining and leaving England was spent, on the whole, pleasantly, training at Portsmouth, Fareham, a three-day route march in glorious weather through the New Forest to Lyndhurst and Ringwood, finishing up at our final training place at Okeford Fitzpaine, a lovely little place in Dorset.

  Blandford, about six miles away, was the training centre for the Royal Naval Division.

  Here we got fit for the big move.

  Harry Askin

  Chapter One

  27 February 1915 – The Voyage

  Portsmouth Battalion Royal Marines received orders to move from Okeford Fitzpaine. We had quite a busy time returning gear, bedding, ammunition and office material. I just had time to write two short letters and a few postcards home to let them know we were off at last. All our chaps were disappointed at having no leave, as some of the Naval battalions had been granted a few days at home and we quite expected the same before we left England.

  We were all feeling excited and eager to be off, although we had no idea where we were bound. Several guesses were made as to our destination: France, Malta, Egypt, Serbia, German East and West Africa. It was certain to be somewhere hot as we had been served out with huge sun helmets. Marched down to Shillingstone station about 5.00pm, well stocked with food and drink and most of us with a few luxuries that the good people of Okeford had given us. All the village turned out to see us off and most went with us to the station.

  It was 6.30pm when we got away, as most of the RN Division were in training there. Pushed right in a carriage, which was quite enough with full marching order. We managed to keep fairly lively on the journey, having plenty to eat and some jolly good cider to drink. We had a lively chap in our carriage who kept things going. ‘Dolly’ Gray was his name. All Grays in the marines are ‘Dolly’, the same as all Martins are ‘Pincher’ and all Bells are ‘Daisy’. This Dolly was a ‘bird’. He must have been, and so must all old soldiers who serve about twenty-one years in a regiment and finish up with the same rank that they started with. He had been with the division in the show at Antwerp and was the sole means whereby our battalion got back to safety with so few taken prisoner, so he told us. However, he could be good company and we passed the time fine. Went past Bath and finished up on the docks at Avonmouth about 11.30pm, scrambled out of the train and formed up in some sort of order on the quayside where several large troopships were berthed, lit up and taking troops and stores on board. Of course, everybody was dizzy which was only natural; officers and sergeant majors dashing about giving dozens of orders of which nobody took the slightest notice. We hung about for an hour and then got on board. Our company was allotted one mess deck just under the first-class saloon of our ship, the Gloucester Castle, about 7,000 tons. Had plenty of work to do once we got aboard, stowing rifles and bayonets in the armourer’s shop, then getting kitbags and blankets aboard. Blankets were then served out and we turned in about 2.30am. I slept on deck with Jack Senior, a chap I met at the recruiting office in Sh
effield. Did nothing but lounge round all Sunday and got thoroughly fed up. Saw a lot more ships in dock – Franconia, Royal George, Alnwick Castle, Somali Crestian, and Grantully Castle. Some had troops on board and others were taking them on; all were busy taking on stores. Saw the light cruiser Duke of Cornwall in dock for repairs. She had been damaged in the Falkland Islands battle. Everybody cheered up when the tugs came alongside and towed us out of harbour. We steamed down the Bristol Channel escorted by two TBDs.1 It was blowing strong but the ship was steady and I thought then that I could stand sea life forever.

  Things were pretty rough in the morning and I could hear the sea coming over on to the well deck, and when I got up I knew that the ship was pitching and rolling. Went up on deck and it was grand to watch the great waves as they dashed over the bows of the ship. It was jolly wet though and presently I began to feel a queer sensation inside me and also observed several chaps leaning over the side and others making a dash for it. I was soon over, and by the time breakfast was piped 80 per cent of the battalion were helpless. Men were just lying about anywhere, not caring whether the place under them was wet or dry. Mess orderlies, told off for the day, tried hard to carry out their duties but, when it came to manipulating dishes of sloppy porridge along the greasy shifting decks, they all seemed to fail. Porridge was everywhere and on nearly everyone. I’d nothing to eat that day and did nothing but lie about on deck. Felt better about 5.00pm and the sea had gone down a bit to help matters. I didn’t feel well enough to fit my hammock up, so slept on the mess deck. Conditions were much better in the morning, warm and bright, and everybody woke up with enormous appetites. It was bloater morning though, so I didn’t get much chance to satisfy mine. I never was very partial to fish which had millions of bones in it. The only other course for breakfast was bread, rank margarine and very indifferent jam with some terrible tea out of a tin mug to wash it all down.

  The meals were rotten. It was a bloater one morning and porridge made without sugar or milk the next. ‘Try salt with it,’ one old soldier said one morning. I did and nearly had a repetition of the first day. For dinner we had either stewed meat or a roast with small bad potatoes. Twice a week we had duff. The best meal was Saturday’s dinner when we had corned beef, pickles and potatoes. The company was vaccinated on 3 March, but I managed to wriggle out of it. I had gone back to my old job of company clerk and had a pretty soft time with a nice deck cabin as an office.

  We arrived at Gibraltar early on 5 March and everybody rushed up on deck to get a view. However, it was misty and all we could see was the dim outline of the big rock. Had it fresh all that day, but the next was fine and warm. We steamed close to the north coast of Africa that day and the next, and saw some of the most gorgeous scenery. We passed close to several towns, Algiers and Tunis being the largest. The coast appeared rocky and, far inland, we could see huge snowcapped mountains. The troops were having a tottering time on board, first drawing rifles from below, then returning them, drawing helmets and packs and doubling round the ship scores of times.

  We sighted land on the morning of the 8th, the island of Gozo, a small place near Malta, and from what we could see of it, very barren. We saw a church, so I supposed people lived there. The next place we came to was Malta and we could see the Royal George entering harbour. We anchored in Grand Harbour about 2.00pm. It looked a lovely place, especially on the Valletta side. Weren’t we all longing for a few hours ashore? The privilege was denied us and we had to contend with our view from the ship. Officers, of course, were allowed on shore and so were colour sergeants. Several more of our ships were in harbour and the Grantully Castle followed us in and anchored alongside. Their band struck up for about an hour and livened things up a bit. Several battleships were in, both British and French. It was amusing to watch the Maltese in their bumboats, simply swarming round the ship; some of them waited hours on the chance of rowing somebody ashore. Some tried to sell us things, but we weren’t allowed to buy from them. As I had no money it didn’t affect me much. I don’t think anybody had much left; the canteen people had seen to that. I don’t think it possible to find a more barefaced set of robbers or sharpers than that ship’s company.

  Kept awake nearly all night by Maltese boys coaling the ship; they were chattering like monkeys the whole time. Left Malta the next morning and sailed due east and again sighted land on the 10th. All that day we were amongst the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. Awfully desolate looking places, some of them just like huge barren rocks. It was a change from the open sea though. Packed our kitbags and stowed them away below. About 10 o’clock next morning we could see land straight ahead and soon after could make out the tripod masts of two battleships. We headed straight for them and arrived outside Mudros Bay, Lemnos, about noon. The harbour had a fine concealed entrance with a great submarine boom across it and was well protected by shore batteries. What a size the harbour was when we got inside and what scores of ships were in it! From great battleships and transports, both French and British, down to tiny Greek fishing-boats. The two battleships that we first sighted and passed were the Nelson and Agamemnon, both fine ships but considered old. We had a fine welcome from the crews of all the ships as we passed and the French troops and sailors nearly went frantic. We anchored close to the Braemar and Cawdor Castle, ships with our Plymouth and Chatham battalions on board. Australian and New Zealand ships were there too, all packed with troops; onshore at West Mudros was a huge camp of French colonial troops. We had a terrific thunderstorm at night and the lightning lit the whole place like day. I have never seen or heard anything like it in England. Ships were coming in all the next day, including the Franconia and Royal George. Boats were lowered from our ship during the day and so many told off from each company to man them. What a hash they made of boat pulling! They soon got a bit of shape into it though with the help of some active service marines.

  The Alnwick Castle came in on the 13th with Deal Battalion on board. We had heard a strong rumour since arriving that she had been sunk with all on board. Two of our companies landed that day for drill, and troops were landing from other ships, some being engaged in making stone piers.

  That night we could hear heavy gunfire but it was very distant. The Queen Elizabeth left next morning. She simply dwarfed every other ship in the bay. Our company (D) landed on Monday about 9.00am. We managed to pull halfway to the shore, then a picket boat took us in tow and finished a very scrappy job. Felt strange on shore for a time and I think Micky Sanders, our company second in command, was mad to try company drill. We did better at boat pulling. He sent each platoon off on its own after a time. Our platoon, with Mr Dougherty in charge, practised a patrol on a village. I think Dougherty was as curious as we were to see inside the place and to have a look at the people. As we approached we could see scores of women watching us from the outskirts, but as soon as we got about 100 yards of them they all fled inside and shut themselves up in their houses. As we passed through the village we could see them peeping at us through their windows. The most striking thing about the place was the smell, which was awful. No attempt was made at sanitation, refuse being thrown anywhere. Portiana is the name of the place, just a smattering of houses and hovels put up anyhow. A trench was dug round the whole place to prevent flooding during the rainy season. It must have been the rainy season then, for it started to pour and we were all drenched in a very short time. We saw some women and a few old men working on the land. It took one right back to the old Bible days. Saw one old chap, dressed in a sheepskin coat, turning the ground over with a wooden plough drawn by a couple of very ancient oxen. Windmills are stuck all over the place; as many as five and six in a row in places.

  We had to row all the way back to the ship, everybody was fed up, wet and tired, and to crown matters we had to climb over the stern up rope ladders, not an easy task with full kit and rifle. One sergeant dropped his rifle as he got to the top. Straight down it went, gone forever.

  Six large French troopships came in during th
e afternoon, one with General Amade and his staff on board. Heard about the little show that Plymouth Battalion had on 4 March.

  There had been a big bombardment by our fleet about the end of February, which had silenced the two big forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles, at Sedd-el-Bahr on the European side and Kum Kale on the Asiatic shore. One company of marines landed at either place to finish off the forts. The Kum Kale party came off without any casualties, having met with no opposition. The Sedd-el-Bahr party was less fortunate, however, and came in for a lot of sniping from the village behind the fort and had twenty-six killed and missing and twenty-six wounded. The demolition party had several casualties too. They returned to Lemnos and had done nothing further up to us joining them. One captain was in hospital in Malta; he had ventured too far ahead and the Turks had caught him, castrated him and left him lying in the village.

  Our company landed again the following day but I didn’t go with them. I’d had enough the previous day, so found some returns which wanted rendering. They consisted of reading and writing letters in the office. Heard news of the Dresden being sunk. The 17th saw a move on the part of our people. We had been wondering how long we were going to stick there and I think everybody was fed up with Lemnos.

  The Cawdor Castle with Chatham Battalion on board left harbour at 7.00am. Had everybody guessing of course. Two of our companies went ashore again and by all accounts had a pretty rotten time, practising company drill and other queer evolutions that are not in the drill book, but exist only in the minds of ambitious subs. They made a mess of things generally and we were all glad when signals were made to leave shore and join the ship. The signal applied to all shore parties, but the water was too rough for amateur sailors, and tug-boats and lighters had to be sent for them. We quite thought our time for action had come and that it was to be Gallipoli.

  We left Mudros at 6.00pm and most of the other RND ships followed us. We had an escort of battleships, cruisers and TBDs. We steamed until about 10 o’clock and then stopped. Next morning, when we got on deck, we were in sight of land but well away from it. The sea between us and the shore was full of warships, some of them firing. We steamed on again about 7.00am, keeping along the coast with all the ships in line. Destroyers kept racing past us giving us various signals by semaphore. One we made out was ‘keep out of gun range of forts’. Nothing was fired at us, however. We could make out the entrance to the Dardanelles, but more by the number of our ships there than by the shape of the land. I found out from Major Clark’s diary that the trip was arranged as a demonstration and lecture for officers on the defences of the Dardanelles.2 Fancy putting the wind up the troops for that. In Lemnos again about 4.00pm.