Redemption - Leon Uris [231]
In the third week of April of 1915 we reboarded the Wagga Wagga feeling dreadful about Yurlob Singh’s orders to remain on Lemnos, assigned to train new packers and mules and send them on to us as our losses required.
Yurlob Singh broke his life-long military posture and fell weeping into Modi’s arms as we boarded ship. He had been the nonperson of the gaffers until the incident at the Hotel Aida. We had no realization of the deep, abiding bonds we had made. We now knew this venture would mean camaraderie for life. Well, that’s longer than many marriages.
A magnificent armada of more than a hundred ships, led by a half-dozen powerful dreadnoughts, sailed forth resolutely to cross the sixty miles of sea to the Gallipoli Peninsula.
General Darlington’s message was read to us, a rather schoolboyish charge, I thought.
ANZACS! WE SALLY FORTH ON NOBLE COMMISSION. I KNOW THAT YOU WILL PROVE YOURSELVES WORTHY SONS OF THE EMPIRE. ON BEHALF OF YOUR COMMANDERS AND HIS MAJESTY, I WISH YOU WELL. THREE CHEERS AND GOD SAVE THE KING!
DARLINGTON,
COMMANDING GENERAL
ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCES
Promoted to Lieutenant General, Sir Llewelyn Brodhead, the Anzac commander was a bit less zippy. He related his longstanding fondness for Australians and New Zealanders and vowed he considered us equal to the task ahead.
We received a third message from Major General Sir Alexander Godley, who commanded the New Zealand forces but had remained an enigma to us. Story goes that he was an Anglo-Irish opportunist leftover from the Boer War and hired by the New Zealand government to build up our armed forces. The glimpses I got of him conveyed something like an ice sculpture.
Johnny, Chester, and myself went into the wardroom a bit smugly for the officers’ briefing. Maps were passed out and a larger one rolled down over a blackboard.
Gallipoli.
There was a smattering of laughter and applause.
“I see that no one here seems surprised,” Major Chris said, continually testing his new penchant for humor. “First, the overall scheme. A French division, mostly North African colonials, Moroccans and such, will land on the eastern, or Asian, side of the straits at Kum Kale. This is the site of ancient Troy, Homer, and the Odyssey and all that rot crammed into us by our wicked schoolmasters. There is not much of a Turkish military presence in the entire Anatolian province and not much is anticipated in the way of Turkish counteractivity. So, the French will hold open their half of the door.
“What is considered the main invasion thrust will take place at Cape Helles, here at the tip of the peninsula. A number of British brigades will land at Helles, principally to create a diversion for the British Twenty-ninth Division, which will drive inland up to this hill here, Achi Baba. So far so good?”
Everyone nodded.
“Anzacs,” Chris went on. “As the British Twenty-ninth hits Cape Helles, the Aussies will simultaneously land ten miles north above this land protrusion called Gaba Tepe. Our site has been designated as Brighton Beach. As you can see, the Aussies will be landing in soft, gently rising hilly terrain.”
“Resistance?” someone asked.
“Not too much, we think. The Turks will concentrate on Cape Helles and we believe our landing ten miles away is not going to give them time to organize. Considering everything, the Anzac should be on the Plain of Maidos, here, within an hour of landing. From there it should be clear sailing to drive to the Dardanelles just above the Narrows, keeping Turkish reinforcements from reaching Cape Helles.
“Second day,” Chris went on. “The New Zealand Brigades, the Aucklands, Otagos, Wellingtons, will land at Brighton Beach and move up alongside the Aussie units in their push across the peninsula. Landers, Jeremy, Goodwood, Tarbox, and Subaltern Richards and your platoon will split into two boats. Jeremy, you will take half