Off the Record: Reality of World War I hits home in Albany Advertiser’s Letters from the Front series

In an edition covering Anzac Day across our region, Off the Record has devoted this page to the Anzacs. During World War I, the Albany Advertiser ran letters from local soldiers who had written back home. Here are two such letters describing the Gallipoli landing. At last, after nine long, weary months, we have got what we desire, to meet our enemy, the Turks. On the morning of April 25, about 4.30am, just before daybreak, we landed in open boats on the Gallipoli Peninsula. There, to our surprise, we got a warm reception from Mr Turk. We jumped over the sides of the boats into the water up to our waists, and waded out under very heavy artillery and rifle fire. The Turks on the beach got scared when we charged with the bayonet, for we drove them back on to the hill about 100 yards. While this operation was going on, the landing of more troops was proceeding. The gallant navy was also busy bombarding the forts on our right. During our five or six hours hard fighting we drove the Turks back about two miles and there we held them till we were reinforced by the 1st and 2nd brigades. The Turks have an enormous lot of machine guns, but they did very little harm, for those who fell or got wounded were not aimed for, but were fluked. The only good shot is the sniper. He lies low in the scrub and lets a company pass and if he can see a man wounded by himself, or a stretcher bearer he tries to drop him. Our sailors did splendid work at the landing of troops. There were about 45 men to a boat, and two sailors. After the men had been landed the sailors rowed back for more troops, as though there was nothing going on. A wounded Turk on the hospital ship coming over told me that he had a wife and four children. He could speak broken English and said he had got a farm. He was dying with delight at the way they treated him. He had five wounds. The Albany boys who were wounded are: Private Jorgensen, Private Kitson, Corporal Brown, and myself, Lance-Corporal Dixon. All the rest of the 1st contingent of Albany boys were alright when I left the trenches. We hope to be back in three or four weeks’ time. Letter from Lance-Corporal B. Dixon, 11th Battalion, Cairo, May 4 I suppose you have read by now of our being in action in the Dardanelles, where I was slightly wounded and sent back to Egypt to the hospital there. On the morning of Saturday, April 24, we left the island where we had been camped (I won’t mention any names as the censor will be very busy just now) for nine weeks. It’s about forty miles from the Dardanelles. We were on the troopship Suffolk, which took us to within five miles of the Gallipoli Peninsula. We then embarked on a torpedo destroyer, which took us to within 500 yards of the shore. From the destroyer we got into the rowing boats and were towed ashore by the steam pinnaces belonging to the cruisers. It was while we were getting into the boats that we got our baptism of fire. I am not going to say I was not frightened, because I was, and I don’t think there were many who were not. There were rifle and machine gun bullets flying all around us. Only one was wounded in our boat before we reached the shore, but others were not so fortunate. Indeed three boat loads of troops landing just on our left had .a machine gun turned on them, with the result that all were killed, except three, who were wounded. It was our first sight of the dead and was perfectly sickening. On reaching, the shore we got orders to drop our packs and fix bayonets. Before going any further I will try to explain a bit of the country where we landed, If you look on the map at the Gallipoli Peninsula, look about halfway up at the narrowest point, just opposite the Narrows, and you will see the bay where we landed. On the right of us the enemy had their batteries, and on the left was a flat plain which was one mass of barbed wire entanglements and land mines. That left us only the middle of the bay to land in, and almost from the shore a cliff ran shear upright for about 40 feet. Along the top of this cliff the enemy were entrenched, and as soon as we reached the shore they got to work on us with their machine guns and simply mowed us down. We could see it was only courting death to stay there, so a bayonet charge was ordered right from the beach. The enemy held their position until we were within 20 yards of them and then turned tail and ran for their bally lives. And I can tell you they can run. Anyhow not many of them were got. Altogether we got about 50 of them. Late on Sunday afternoon we were three miles inland., Lt Strickland was told off with 100 men to take one of the enemy’s trenches, which was on the left flank. I was among that hundred. There is no time to tell you all about our charge, but only four of us got out of it alive, including the lieutenant. It was a perfect hell on earth. Just a few minutes after this I got hit in the leg with a bullet and was carried on to the hospital ship late on Sunday night. Officers who have been in action in France said they have seen nothing to compare with the hail of lead that we got on landing. We were the first to land and they reckoned on surprising the wily Turks, but I think we got the surprise. We did our job thoroughly and have had great praise, both from Sir Ian Hamilton and the War Office in England. After this I think you know more of the war than we do. We get no news at all. I was discharged from the hospital today and sent to the convalescence camp to get fit to go back again and I don’t think I shall be long here. lt’s just mid-summer and the heat is something cruel. Talk about flies; there are millions here. Letter from Private E. Parker, 11th Battalion, Zietoun, May 10