Day 3 - Suvla
Well a bit of a hangover to greet the dawn but a power shower, breakfast and the tender ministrations of Dr Alka Seltzer soon restore my physical equilibrium. Off we go again: this time to the ‘Big Country’ that is Suvla Bay – an area that swallowed up British troops and spat them out. The mood was slightly ‘tired’ in the coach but we gradually revived.
Our first stop was at the Turkish big guns from the 1870s located near Anafarta. They were definitely ‘big’ and although of archaic design even in 1915 were ideal for harassing fire onto our major corps depot on the beaches at Suvla. Then on to Scimitar Hill and after a bit of ground orientation we had a briefing on the outline of the campaign. The staggering incompetence of the British commanders at all levels was evident. The plans had been watered down from the ‘coup de main’ as originally planned by Hamilton whereby the newly created IX Corps was to seize the heights, establish a viable corps base and if possible to assist in the efforts to seize the Sari Bair range by the assaulting columns driving out from Anzac. However Hamilton had been given an entirely unsuitable and totally incompetent commander for his brand new shiny IX Corps in the august figure of Lieutenant General Frederick Stopford – one of nature’s scapegoats but a man who thoroughly deserved the censure. But Stopford was not alone in his inability to grasp Hamilton’s intentions. It is fair to say that most of the senior officers demonstrated once again the default setting of the British Army at Gallipoli: when in doubt - do nothing! We discussed the irony of Hamilton, so often criticised for his laissez faire attitude, provoked disaster when he finally intervened after a couple of days to insist on an immediate attack on the Tekke Tepe heights. The orders were passed down until the battalion holding Scimitar Hill was removed and sent off on the task of taking the Tekke Tepe Ridge – where they duly failed as the massed Turkish reserves arrived from Bulair. Several of the team members could not believe that such a key tactical position could be so casually and voluntarily abandoned.
We then made the short journey to Green Hill where we first looked at the cemetery and then walked over Chocolate Hill. Here we encountered a mercifully friendly swarm of bees and some notably unfriendly gorse – ouch! We looked at the ground lying in front of the troops and the problems that developed over their route to their first day objective at Chocolate Hill. Stopford was worried by the prospect of Turkish defences to the south of the Hills so he wanted to avoid the option of sending troops on the obvious route straight from the landing beach round the southern border of the Salt Lake. But then as he wasn’t sure of the surface of the (actually dry) Salt Lake, then perforce he had to send the troops on a crazy route swinging all the way round the northern boundary of the Salt Lake. And it is a ‘Big Country’ so that meant a lot of marching in the broiling sun. Then there were the Turks fighting a truly classic delaying action: providing a stiff resistance to troops blundering to contact and then melting away to reform and strike back hard. It reminded us of similar problems at both Helles and Anzac. The delays built up: the generals prevaricated and blundered. No leadership, no mission command, no hope!
We then went by bus to the very end of the Kiretch Tepe Ridge. Here there was a deliberately provoked (by me!) practical demonstration illustrating the difficulty of keeping a group together in a terrain featuring fractured ridges and gullies when you don’t know where you are going! Then we climbed onto the ridge proper and marvelled at the view whilst trying not to break our ankles – medivac did not seem likely to be a comfortable process from that benighted ridge. We looked at the terrain, stretched before us, the landmarks of the campaign, the various posts, sangars and built up stone trenches that criss-crossed the ridge. It was quite a walk but the views were breathtaking and it was with a considerable sense of achievement that we finally reached the bus.
Almost finished (literally and figuratively) we moved on to look at the Cut, the small channel that links the Salt Lake – now wet – to the sea proper. We had considered a swim but deterred by the stench we moved round to Brighton Beach, just south of Anzac, where we both swam and played volleyball. (I am it appears not good at volley ball and at times brought shame to the ranks of military tour guides) Some of us also took the opportunity to look at the remnants of a beached lighter (which was much more visible than in the past) and also saw the trace mark echoes of the holes dug in the sand bank cliffs for shelter from machine gun fire by Leane’s raiders. They had tried to surprise the Turks with a commando style raid and had been comprehensively surprised themselves by the scale of The Turkish reaction. Then it was back to the hotel for a well-earned rest. The team went off for an orgy of food and drink over the straits in the sultry fleshpots of Chanakale, but I had a couple of pints with Bill Sellers – as ever a mine of information and an early(ish) night.
So that was the end of a typical tour. Military history lessons incorporating plenty of reference to modern doctrine and I hope great fun for everyone on the tour – I certainly enjoyed it. Tomorrow it’s Istanbul but that’s another story not for blogging!