Christmas in the Trenches Read online

  Attacks across the confined spaces of the Gallipoli battlefields saw casualties mount rapidly. Conditions deteriorated during the summer with dysentery being rife among the troops. Some of those evacuated wounded or sick were lucky enough to be put on board hospital ships bound for Britain rather than Egypt. This gave the imperial motherland its first glimpse of the ANZACs, who were making such a name for themselves at Gallipoli:

  Just a line to let you know that I am out of the hospital, and am on six weeks’ furlough, and am having a splendid time. The weather over here is pretty rotten – rain or snow every day – but we are enjoying ourselves immensely. The people here are treating us very well; in fact, all England is open to us. I will tell you how I spent my Xmas – from the time I got up in the morning. I had a wash, then breakfast, went down to the reading room for a read and a smoke, down stairs to the barber’s for a shave, and then had my boots cleaned, after which we started out to have Xmas dinner with Sir George Reid at the Hotel Cecil (in the Strand), one of the largest and best hotels in London. And I tell you it was a dinner, too. There were about 900 Australians and New Zealanders present. You may guess what it was like when I tell you that any civilian that wished to be present had to pay 10/6. Sir George Reid and several other noted men gave speeches. Well, after we had had dinner and came out into the Strand again, several of us were accosted by a lady we did not know. She asked us if we would be good enough to go and spend the afternoon and have tea with her. Of course, we accepted the invitation, and were placed in taxis and driven off. We did not know where we were going, or whose house we were going to, but we were happy. However, it turned out alright, for it was Lady Wolsley’s place we went to, where we had a right royal time. We had just escaped from there when we were caught again, and put into taxis and whirled off to spend the night and next day with a Mr and Mrs Lauder, parents of a great musician who has just returned from a tour in Australia. So you can see we did not want for much. I am going to Scotland on Wednesday for the New Year, where, they tell me, the people are even better than what they are in England, so we must be in for a good time. I am going to stay with a Mrs Grey, in Edinburgh, while there. I think I will also go to Glasgow for a few days.9 (Pte Frank Scholes, 14th Battalion, AIF)

  Back at Gallipoli, in August, 25,000 men were landed at Suvla Bay in an attempt to capture the all-important high ground overlooking the Dardanelles by outflanking the main Turkish defences, but once again initial successes were not exploited and the last hope of strategic success in the campaign vanished. By late November, winter weather had begun to set in and gales, thunderstorms, torrential rain and blizzards made life in the trenches and dugouts a misery:

  21 December 1915: A thunderstorm and heavy rain last night did more damage than a month’s shelling. In many places fire and communication trenches were impassable and everywhere mud rendered movement slow and difficult. (War Diary, HQ, Royal Naval Division)

  The coming of Christmas at least gave the hard-pressed troops something pleasant to focus on:

  One night just before Christmas I was on duty in the Signal Office and the Commander was busy in his office which had now been partitioned off when he called out to me ‘Freeman can you cook a Turkey?’ I thought he was getting on at me on account of my performances with the Dixie on various occasions, so I said ‘Yes Sir, I think so.’ ‘Well’ he said ‘we got one for you.’ I was too much astonished to say anything for a moment and then thanked him as well as I was able for his kindness. He had, he told me ordered two to be sent from Tenedos and was going to give us one of them. There was great rejoicing in the camp when I told the others the great news! In the place of Haywood, who had returned to his battery, we had a new cook named Watson, he was a farmer before he joined up and knew how to deal with the insides of turkeys in the proper manner, he was quite pleased to take over the job from beginning to end, which suited the rest of us very well. We had had many discussions regarding our Christmas fare but never in our wildest flights of fancy did we think of a turkey – although I suppose it would be difficult to find a more appropriate place in which to eat the bird than Helles. I had a real home made Christmas pudding in a china basin, which had miraculously arrived unbroken in the post, but we decided to keep this for the new year as supplies were issuing tinned pudding. Altogether things looked very promising. Christmas Eve we were all very merry and bright and feeling very fit. Peattie and I made quite an ‘arty’ Christmas card for the Commander and Johnstone in which we all signed our names as a sort of memento of the time we had been together and Watson, who was proud of his skill in the making of pastry, insisted on manufacturing a large apple turnover on a plate for presentation to the Commander on Christmas day!

  I was up at 6 o’clock on Christmas morning and after a wash outside in the moonlight, walked down to ‘W’ Beach to early service. The morning was dead calm and almost undisturbed by firing of any sort. A little way out to sea lay the two hospital ships, each with a line of green lamps running from stem to stern, looking as if they had on their Christmas decorations. Away to the right Achi – the still unconquered – was just a grey outline, an outline we knew by heart. Dotted about in all directions twinkled little points of light which might have been the reflection of the stars in still water – camp fires getting ready for breakfast . . .

  The service was held in a marquee behind the ordnance stores. The pews were planks supported on biscuit boxes and the altar was of packing cases covered in front by a slip of cloth and lit by two candles. Two dim oil lamps hanging from the centre of the tent did their best. The simple words of the service went home to most of us I think. I was glad I went . . .

  We also had a limited supply of French wine which had been swapped for superfluous jam. Again I say pity the poor soldiers at Gallipoli! The afternoon was quietly spent as you might imagine. After tea we made up a big fire, lit plenty of candles and enjoyed ourselves. We played cards, Peatties band played various selections as long as those who were not musical, shall we say, would let them; and we talked of many things. By 10.30pm most of us were in bed. I was on duty at the office at 1am again but we had got so used to getting up in the middle of the night that we did not worry about it . . .

  At 1.30am an enterprising Taube came over in the moonlight and dropped a bomb about 50 yards from the redoubt, we found parts of it in the morning . . . and all was quiet except for a few rounds from Asia whistling overhead at intervals, destined for ‘W’ Beach.

  So passed Christmas Day 1915; we had no idea that there was the slightest probability of leaving the Peninsula for good in just over a fortnight’s time. (Cpl Stanley Freeman, Royal Naval Division Signals Company)

  The evacuation of the peninsula proved to be the most successful part of the whole Gallipoli operation. Between 18 and 20 December troops were withdrawn from Suvla Bay and Anzac Cove. The position at Cape Helles was retained slightly longer, but on the night of 8–9 January 1916, the last troops embarked. Only a handful of casualties were reported during the operation, confounding those who estimated that up to half the force would be lost in any withdrawal. On board the troopship Knight of the Garter Capt Herbert Winn (2/5th Gurkhas) summed up the feeling of many in a letter home written on 23 December:

  Am rolling about at present in the above-mentioned boat. Everybody is bored to tears and feeling ill from over-eating and over-sleeping. We are not allowed on deck during the day for fear a submarine sees us and discovers there are troops on board. Not that anyone would have wanted to stroll about today as a driving rain is beating along the deck. Altogether things are not, just at the present moment, wearing a very pleasant aspect. Yet at the back of everybody’s mind there is the soothing thought ‘we have left behind those confounded trenches’ and this compensates for all.

  As the Gallipoli campaign was in its final few months the 10th (Irish) Division and French 156th Division were withdrawn from that operation and sent to Salonika, where they landed between 5 and 10 October 1915. By the end of November these troops, alon
g with the French 17th (Colonial) Division, were in the mountains of southern Serbia facing the Bulgarian 2nd Army. Here they were hit by the same appalling winter weather that affected those still at Gallipoli. This led to 23 officers and 1,663 men being evacuated. They were suffering from frostbite and exposure even before the Bulgarian offensive began on 7 December. Five days later all remaining British and French troops were back on Greek soil and moving towards the relative safety of Salonika. On 14 December, the decision was taken to fortify and hold Salonika rather than withdraw troops from the Balkans. By 20 December, when the last of the 10th Division returned to the city, they found the place beginning its transformation into a huge military encampment. On the British side the 22nd, 26th, 27th and 28th Divisions were in the process of arriving, signalling a major commitment to this new theatre of war.

  Macedonia is a land of climatic extremes with hot, blistering summers, at that time accompanied by the arrival of malaria-carrying mosquitoes, which at times caused more casualties than enemy action. In contrast the winters could be very harsh with heavy rain, blizzards and the bone-chilling Vardar wind, which blew for days on end on to the plains of northern Greece:

  We were served out with woolly skin coats that made us look like a polar expedition. We had to scramble marches over the mountains where the snow lay feet thick. Rum was served out and extra blankets and anti-frostbite ointment for the feet and when you dressed in the morning boots and puttees were frozen stiff and waterbottles solid.10 (Pte Reg Bailey, 7th Royal Berkshires)

  For men of the British Salonika Force (BSF), that first Christmas in Macedonia would be spent either at the base area around Salonika or in the foothills north of the city constructing a 70-mile-long chain of defences to protect the vital port from seizure by the Bulgarians. This work lasted five months and proved particularly difficult over the winter for the troops living in tents in the hills and ravines due to a combination of the weather conditions, rocky nature of the ground on which the defences were constructed and the lack of tools and engineering supplies. For Christmas, each unit tried to mark the holiday as best it could:

  Xmas Day, 1915, was a red letter day. It was not much of a ‘holiday’, for urgent works were carried out as usual for half the day. However, we got the afternoon and evening off. What made it a day to be remembered was that on that day we got the first mail we had had for five weeks – since leaving France – and also our first issue of fresh meat and bread: bully and biscuits having been our fare all the time. Half a rum issue also marked the day. Although Salonika was only seven miles away, great difficulty was experienced in getting up supplies, owing to the shocking roads and fearful weather.11 (Capt Melville Rattray, 107th Field Company, RE)

  Down at the base camp matters were a little more comfortable:

  We really had a very decent time for Christmas considering conditions; we are fortunate in having one or two very good cooks in our party – we built a special oven and had roast beef and chickens, with potatoes and bacon; puddings made on the spot and a really excellent cake – almonds, tangerines, biscuits, chestnuts to roast on a brazier, beer and lemonade according to taste etc etc. We had a game of football in the morning on quite a respectable bit of ground.12 (Pte Richard Stratton, 15 Sanitation Section, RAMC)

  At some of the newly established depots and hospitals, concerts were performed for the troops in large stores tents and marquees temporarily fitted out for the occasion:

  At half past seven we went to a concert in a store tent with biscuit boxes as seats. It wasn’t a great success as there was no piano. Our star turn was a couple of Highlanders one of whom piped while the other danced a sword dance. There was a large opposition party outside which hadn’t been able to come in and it howled lustily while our songs were on. The funniest item was a huge fat labour sergeant who started about four keys too high who, after a piercing shriek, said ‘I can’t sing’ and rushed away. It was a lovely night outside with clear moonlight. All over the plain for miles were rows and rows of lit up tents and twinkling camp fires, and one could hear the cheers and shouting in the distance all around.13 (2/Lt Eric de Normann, ASC Main Supply Depot)

  Among the productions was a version of the pantomime Dick Whittington, performed by members of the 85th Field Ambulance. With its villains Count Maconochie and Sir Joseph Paxton, named after brands of tinned meat and vegetable stew and jam that were staple rations of British troops during the First World War, this show became such a hit that it toured to all units of the 28th Division. Following years would see the players of the 85th Field Ambulance perform the equally popular Aladdin in Macedonia (1916) and Bluebeard (1917), again penned by Frank Kenchington to reflect army life in the Balkans.

  Such entertainments were very important in maintaining morale, for Macedonia was very much a foreign land with its barren countryside and often difficult climate. Even the city of Salonika was closer to an eastern rather than a European city with its minarets and cosmopolitan population of Turks, Bulgars, Greek and Spanish Jews. That the BSF found itself at the end of a long maritime supply route also caused problems as the Mediterranean quickly became a happy hunting ground for German and Austro-Hungarian U-boats operating from bases in the Adriatic. The sinking of shipping not only affected the levels of rations, equipment and ammunition available but also made the evacuation of sick and wounded to hospitals on Malta, in Egypt and Britain an increasing problem. In addition the flow of letters and parcels from home was also interrupted, something that was especially felt by the troops at Christmas time:

  There is a rumour going about that the mail-boat has been torpedoed and all the Christmas parcels gone to Davy Jones. The millions of Christmas puddings and tobacco and stuff we were to have had from all over the world have dwindled down to a couple of square inches of pudding from the Daily News . . . we are now pushed up in the hills miles from anywhere and we all feel very, very fed up and far from home.14 (Pte Jack Webster, 10th Devons)

  Further afield, increasing commitments were being made by the British Empire in Mesopotamia. Not content with securing the oil fields in the south, forces under Gen Sir John Nixon, spurred on by the India Office which had overall responsibility for the campaign, began to advance along the River Tigris towards Baghdad. Easy initial victories against mostly locally raised Turkish forces led to huge overconfidence on the part of the senior commanders. Maj Gen Charles Townshend, leading the 6th (Poona) Division, supported by a flotilla of river gunboats and transports that became known as ‘Townshend’s Regatta’, accomplished an astonishing advance, relying more on bluff and the incompetence and disarray of enemy forces than sound strategy and tactics. At the Battle of Ctesiphon (22–25 November 1915) the lack of troops, artillery and an overextended line of supply finally caught up with Townshend. Unable to break the Turks he retreated to Kut-al-Amara where from 7 December his forces were besieged. During the first month of the siege the Turks, not having to worry about the activity of other British forces in the region, tried to gain an early victory:

  Christmas Eve was the best scrap I ever wish to see. It was on a cold and frosty morning (really it was) that the Turks opened fire on our rotten, mud walled, so called Fort . . . and it was soon evident that their intention was to batter down the walls and all that therein was, and so be able to enfilade our front line and thus walk into Kut.

  As our guns had strict orders not to engage artillery we lay low, and damned glad we were to do so in that inferno . . .

  Quite early, about 7am the fire became very accurate and as we went out to try the telephone both the Maj and myself were knocked down bustle over hairpins by a shell, but were not touched, only warmed. This was followed by another which burst in the door of the Mess dugout, busting my six bottles of whisky which I had only bought the day before from the Oxfords for Christmas Day (Gott Straffe Turkey) . . .

  About 11am the shell fire intensified and there was precious little left of the mud walls from the Sirmoor Bastion to the East Bastion and the 119th Infantry had been
badly shaken mostly from being buried under tons of mud and ‘Bhussa’ mixed. The state of this regiment’s nerves was reported to the O.C. Fort, but apparently no steps were taken to bring up fresh troops . . .

  As we reached the barricade each man found his own place beside the Oxfords and opened up a rapid fire at the sea of yellow jackets and long bayonets on the broken walls. Our bombers were hurling grenades into the brown as hard as they could light the fuses – 4 machine guns were spitting out a cross fire of death at a range of from 30 to 80 yards. The Howitzers and 104th Battery’s shells were crumpling outside – the din was appalling.

  After using up my own, the wheelers and Capt. Dorling’s revolver ammunition, an Oxford’s brains were blown out alongside me, so I was able to get to work with his rifle.

  In the 30 minutes we were there about 30 Oxfords and 103rd were killed, mostly shot through the head . . . The many wounded were quickly cleared out as our elbow room was very cramped.

  At the end of half an hour the Turks were seen to waver, turn and run – while our men, Oxfords, 103rd and volunteers leaped forward on the battered walls, yelling and firing like demons . . .

  This finished the show, not a shot could be heard anywhere in the deadly calm that ensued. The whole place was a mass of smoke, ammunition boxes, unexploded bombs, dead and wounded, broken rifles, bits of bodies and chunks of brain! . . .

  By jove, there were many dry throats after this, and how I cursed the Turkish gunners for straffing my whisky, however the Maj had some!!

  After this attack had failed all was very quiet except for a few stray shells falling about, but as the afternoon wore on, we saw large numbers of infantry coming up into the trenches so all preparations were made for another attack. Barricades were strengthened, barbed wire ‘spiders’ thrown over the wall . . .