Where those fatal shells came from was at the time, and still remains, a cause of bitter controversy. All on the summit believed them British. This may have been a mistake. It is a common error for an advance line to suppose it is being shelled by its own side. But probably the shells were British. Outside the navy, nearly every one at the time believed them to be naval,[169] and though the range must have been some four or five miles, the accuracy of the naval shooting at a visible mark had been proved by that morning’s bombardment, over the same distance. But the general belief may have been founded on a mere suspicion constantly repeated. It has long appeared to me that two sentences in Sir Ian’s dispatch suggest a more probable explanation. As quoted above, he says the orders were for the bombardment to be switched on to the flanks and reverse slopes of the heights at 5.16 a.m. He further says that the Gurkhas and South Lancashires, after reaching the crest, “began to attack down the far side of it,” _i.e._ down the reverse slopes of the hill. It would be natural for our gunners to wait some minutes before bombarding the reverse slope, so as to catch the enemy retreating or reinforcements coming up. In any case, they were under orders to bombard the reverse slope, and they obeyed. But what guns could bombard a reverse slope? As was proved throughout the campaign, the trajectory of naval guns was so flat that either they hit the top of the mountain (as they almost invariably did) or their shells skimmed across the top to burst miles away in Asia. A reverse slope would be exactly the thing they could never hit. For a reverse slope, mortars or howitzers are wanted. There were howitzers near No. 2 Post and along the flats beside the shore, and their orders were to bombard the reverse slope after 5.16 a.m. This explanation is suggested, but the controversy will be forgotten before settled. Whatever the cause, the effect was disaster irretrievable--disaster leaving its lamentable mark upon the world’s history. Amid the scattered limbs and shattered bodies of their comrades, the exultant pursuers stopped aghast. They began to stumble back. They scrambled to the crest and over it. Major Allanson with a small group stood firm, taking one last look upon that scene of dazzling hope. But the Turkish officers with the supports had observed the check. Seizing the moment, they urged their fresh companies upward, in turn pursuing. Against the gathering crowd a handful could not stand. Wounded and isolated, Major Allanson withdrew the last of his men. Down the face of the mountain they came upon the little trench from which they had adventurously started less than half an hour before. They alone had witnessed and shared the crisis. They alone had watched the moment when the campaign swung upon the fateful hinge. No soldier in our army was ever to behold that triumphant prospect again.[170]