World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Turkey -- Gallipoli Peninsula
Down a slope through trees, and over little nullahs covered with
growing gorse-bush, over meadowland past the site of our old Brigade
H.Q., till when within sight of our new H.Q. we come into uninterrupted
view of Achi Baba, and Thomson then says we had better trot. On
arrival, tea is ready, and a new cake has arrived. It had taken
three weeks to come out, and yet tasted quite fresh. We have tea
in the open, at the bottom of the dry brook, and afterwards I take
my departure. On return to “W” Beach, over comes a big shell, and
immediately all work is stopped, and one and all, General and private,
make for cover. Drivers rush to their lines and untie their mules and
horses, and trot, canter, and gallop to the safety of the shore at
the foot of the cliffs right and left of the beach. We wait beneath
the friendly, sheltering cliffs, and hear the swishing shrieks as
the shells hurtle through the air, bursting on the beach and on the
higher ground. Then, as one shriek does not end with the crash of an
explosion and its noise continues, we look at each other with a certain
amount of apprehension, until with a fearful rending it sweeps down on
to us, helplessly taking cover on the steep sides of the cliff, and
crashes with a deafening roar almost at our feet, as it seems, but
really fifty yards away. Immediately there is a rush to more sheltered
ground half-way up the cliff, and three forms are seen lying helplessly
in the road. One is my staff-sergeant, with a scalp wound and badly
shaken, and two are dead, mangled beyond description. Thank the Lord,
my staff’s wound is not serious. Well, he is for Blighty now, and good
luck to him!
We find the animals—mules and horses—have been strafed rather badly.
The lines that they are on are in very exposed positions as far as
shell fire is concerned, and it was not possible to get many away, and
in consequence the casualties among the poor helpless creatures were
serious. Hyslop, our Vet., dispatched all that he could on their last
journey with one pull on his revolver, pressed to their foreheads. As
a pause came in the shelling, so he rushed out from his dugout and
finished off those which were wounded beyond cure, going about the
horrid task coolly and methodically, at intervals, being forced to rush
for cover to save his own skin, but ever ready, when chance offered, to
go back to his merciful task. Though we have been on this Peninsula but
a few weeks, the Veterinary Services are efficient beyond praise, and
the cases of all animal patients, suffering from the smallest ailments
to the most serious of wounds, are dealt with by the Veterinary
Officers with the same care as the Medical Corps bestows on human
patients.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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