Redemption - Leon Uris [282]
Flynn and I with two others tracked a path maybe used in ancient Greek history that roughly followed the gully line. We waited until the animals began hitting the final turns, hoping that our presence would go unnoticed.
The cries and screams of these beautiful soldiers was all but unbearable. As they hit the last turn, Flynn and myself and other lads, loaded down with Turkish grenades, stood on a wee narrow path ten feet over the top of the mules.
As they turned the bend, up went Turkish flares and the last fifty yards of the “charge” was illuminated. The Turks blazed gunfire from two weapons. Animals in front collapsed, while other mules behind them kept coming…coming…coming…piling up right in front of the Guillotine.
Oh God in heaven! One of the lads skidded down into the gully, and was mangled and crushed by the mules in an instant.
Now or never!
We hopped on a rock unseen, for the Turks had their hands full stopping the charge—one…two…three…four…ten…eleven—twelve grenades erupted right on their nest.
Get the hell out fast…fast…be careful now, don’t slip into the gully….
I felt very light-headed and warm…. What the hell does a man do on his knees and not able to stand up! What the hell! Blood was pouring down my front….
Flynn jerked me to my feet.
“Hang on to me, Landers, we’ll get you back, cobber, we’ll get you back.”
Epilogue
Secret Files of Winston Churchill,
Christmas 1915
The greatest generals appear to be the historians of future generations who had no decisions to make at the time the history was being made.
When all the commissions of inquiry are done, the finger-pointing and the cover-ups and the lying and the justifications are told and retold, I realize that one glaring fact shall remain, and that is that the name of Winston Churchill will forever be synonymous with one of the greatest disasters in military history.
What I say here is that the knowledgeable men of high station, men who created the world’s greatest empire, favored the military and political strategy of attempting to open the Dardanelles. It was their judgment that Gallipoli was a naval and military probability, if not possibility.
What fell apart subsequently will fill hundreds of volumes yet unwrit. But to infer now that the plan was of evil or foolish intent or too much of a risk, or that it was undertaken to advance individual careers, or that we did not have compassion for the lives of our troops, is a damnable lie. I could stand before the Parliament or any commission and argue my case. I could enlighten them on blunder upon blunder that was not my doing, but I choose not to spend the rest of my life pointing my finger at the competency of many generals, admirals, and ministers. No, I shall be the flogging boy for them all.
As First Lord of the Admiralty, I made my share of good decisions and my share of poor decisions. What is deplorable is the accusation that I did not care. It will not be remembered that many undertakings occurred after my resignation. It will be little remembered that most of the decisions were always beyond my control.
The War Council went into the venture with great confidence. After the failure of our naval firepower to produce the expected results, and after meeting unexpectedly fierce Turkish resistance on the landing, the entire venture began to cloud.
Resolve to win this campaign, and the means with which to win it, began to vanish in our highest councils.
The Suvla Bay landing was a disgrace to British arms. Field Marshal Kitchener was the man responsible for the appointment of General Darlington and General Stopford. Yet we do not hear Kitchener damned.
My most terrible personal moment came when I had to inform Lady Caroline Hubble that both her sons had been killed. Through my own sorrow I found majesty in the way this magnificent woman handled the most wrenching moment of her life. Her continued display of dignity and courage during the months of grief was incomparable.
Lord Roger Hubble