The Dardanelles Conspiracy by Alan Bardos (best ereader for pc TXT) 📗

landing at X beach and two secondary assaults on Y and S beaches had been successful, a charade on the Gulf of Saros and a French attack on the Asian coast were all proceeding as planned. Sir George was sure they would soon capture the key strategic locations on the peninsula.

‘Sir Ian shall I note that despite heavy casualties, the defence at W beach have been neutralised and a bridgehead established?’ Sir George was pleased with his grasp of military language.

‘Oh God, V beach.’ Hamilton’s good cheer had gone. Sir George pressed his face against the observation gap in the armour. Through the smoke he identified the tiny semi-circle of V beach.

At first sight he thought the beach was covered with wreckage, then, using his field glasses, he managed to catch a sob. It was men. Men lying on the beach and in the sea, cut down by relentless enemy fire that could be clearly heard in the conning tower. Many of the cutters that had carried the men were broken on the beach, the wounded trapped under the dead as the boats burnt.

A collier was run aground on the right of the beach, under an old fort. Shells were striking its dull brown hull in small pink explosions. Something had evidently gone wrong with the landing ramps. Sir George could see men in the water holding them together while troops toppled and fell as they charged down. All around bullets churned the sea to crimson.

The men that had survived the landing were huddled under a sand bank in the beach a few feet high, pinned down by a crossfire. Sir George doubted they had any chance of reaching the wire entanglements in front of them, let alone the defences beyond.

Sir George glanced at Hamilton, things were coming unstuck and with it the general’s reserve. ‘Damn it all, it’s intolerable to watch those brave men being slaughtered. I should be out there.’

‘Let’s give them some support,’ De Robeck said and ordered the Queen Elizabeth to open fire. The battleship let loose its full broadside in a continuous roar of blinding salvos.

When the maelstrom had finished, as far as Sir George could see the bombardment had made little effect other than to render him senseless. The men were still pinned down and the constant machine gun fire of the Turks could be heard once again.

‘It might as well be confetti that we’re firing at them for all the good it’s doing,’ Hamilton commented, then glared with frustration at Sir George. ‘If we had been able to get word to the troops on shore, they might have been able to advance during the bombardment.’

‘I’m sure.’ Sir George had no idea how such a thing could have been achieved - it wasn’t his department - and wondered if he could send for Jack Churchill.

‘Hell and damnation, I should have ordered the landing parties at X and Y beaches to push inland. We could have flanked the Turks and nipped this in the bud,’ Hamilton said to Braithwaite.

‘We weren’t to know that the operations on X and Y beaches would come off so brilliantly,’ Braithwaite consoled him.

Indeed, it was the first Sir George had heard of such a plan being carried out. He glanced at a map. He imagined that X and Y beaches, situated on the south west coast of the peninsula, were in a good position to outflank the Turkish defences on the tip of Cape Helles.

Hamilton acquiesced to his Chief of Staff, ‘No use dwelling on such things. In any case I suspect that the enemy are too strong in the area for a manoeuvre of that kind to succeed. It is clear that the landing on V beach has stalled. There is no point sending more men in, to become target practice for the Turks.’

‘The Turks are making a splendid effort,’ Sir George muttered, half to himself. He couldn’t believe that an enemy that had been comprehensively beaten in every recent war they’d fought, was holding back some of the finest troops in the British Army.

Hamilton remained silent, as he decided what to do next. Through the indecision Roger Keyes stepped forward. ‘Perhaps we could divert troops from V to Y beach, who can push on, and as you suggest, sir, flank the Turks. They’d certainly be of more use to the men on V beach there and we can use some of the trawlers earmarked for ferrying the wounded to hospital ships.’

‘Yes, capital idea, Roger,’ Hamilton said.

‘I’m sorry, Sir Ian, do you think that wise?’ Braithwaite asked. ‘Hunter-Weston is after all in command of the landings at Helles. It would be a trifle unorthodox for general headquarters to interfere with his running of operations.’

‘Yes, quite right, Braithwaite. It wouldn’t do for us to barge into operations on the ground. Commanders should command,’ Hamilton agreed.

‘Perhaps we could telegraph a suggestion to General Hunter-Weston, on HMS Euryalus,’ Sir George said, wondering what the First Lord of the Admiralty would make of this impotent conversation and supposed it was just as well his brother was not present to witness it.

‘Yes, take this down, Smyth. General Hamilton to General Hunter-Weston, Euryalus. Do you want any more men landed at 'Y'? If so there are trawlers available.’

Sir George made a careful note of the message and looked around for someone who might be able to send it.

Chapter 49

Johnny found Colonel Newenham directing the Royal Fusiliers’ advance up the northern side of Hill 114. The Colonel regarded Johnny coolly, as he and Williams presented themselves. ‘Who on Earth are you?’

‘Swift, sir, Lancashire Fusiliers. Major Franklin sent me to report that Brigadier General Hare has been wounded.’

‘Wounded? How the hell did that happen?’ Newenham shouted above the din.

‘He was trying to link up with you, sir, and was shot in the leg,’ Johnny replied.

‘He was what? Of