next day while Harry was resting in his tent after the big night out in Cairo another mate, Bill Hawkins, called out to him
‘Harry, you have a young bloke who says he knows you. Will I send him in?’ ‘Who is it?’ ‘Well that’s the funny thing. He says his name is Harry Daniel’
Harry sat up on his stretcher ‘There is only one other Harry Daniel I know of, and he’s me nephew. It can’t be him, he’s too young to enlist.’
‘Well what do I do with him Harry?’
‘Hold on I’ll come out.’
Harry gingerly got up and walked out to see whom the impostor was. ‘Hello Uncle Harry’ said the slightly built young man. ‘Bloody hell what are you doing here?’
‘Same reason you’re here Uncle Harry to fight for King and country.’
‘But you’re only a kid. How old are you now?’ ‘Well, my enrolment papers say I am eighteen.’ ‘Bullshit, you’re about fifteen from memory’
‘Uncle Harry please, an officer might hear you. Young Harry spoke in a hushed voice ‘I am seventeen but was sixteen when I enlisted. Dad signed my papers so I am O.K. Don’t worry.’ ‘Don’t bloody worry!’
‘I have just got back from that hell hole, Gallipoli. Four months of hell, so if I can survive that, and I can tell you lots of my mates didn’t, I can survive anything.’
Harry ushered young Harry into his tent. ‘What battalion are you in kid?’
‘I was in the 10th but just got transferred to the 59th. How about you?’ ‘The 5th’ grunted Harry senior’.
‘Have you got any idea where they are sending you next and when?’
‘Not a bloody clue, Uncle Harry. I did hear a rumour that we are moving out soon.’ ‘Alright, you keep me posted’. ‘I will write to your Mum and Dad and let them know we caught up and you are safe and well.’ ‘I did write a few letters from Gallipoli and I sent them a couple of post cards of the pyramids and the sphinx with a few words.’
Gallipoli
Chapter 6
1915
‘Tell me what Gallipoli was really like, Harry, I have heard a few stories that would make the hairs on your neck stand up.’
‘Well Uncle Harry it really was hell on earth. I suppose I should start when we landed at the wrong beach…’ ‘You’re kidding me who fucked up?’
‘Don’t know most of us believe the Pommie Generals did, although they blamed it on the currents.’ ‘So it was pretty rough?’
‘Bloody oath. First they brought us in on war ships which were meant to give us protection. They then told us in hushed tones to climb down the ladders and into the wooden landing boats. That was a bloody trick itself climbing down a rope ladder with a full pack, including a spade and your rifle slung over your shoulder. Anyway I made it to the boat and squeezed in next to me good mate Frankie Lowe. We are just about to push off when I heard one of the officers.’
‘Oh my God they have taken us to the wrong beach. They will be slaughtered.’ Frankie looked at me muttering ‘I bloody hope not.’
It was still dark when they started towing us to the beach; it was bloody freezing but we were not allowed to wear our great coats, which were in our packs.
The trip to the beach felt like hours but was only forty minutes. The officers told us that Abduls bullets sounded like little birds as they whizzed past us.
It was staring to lighten up and the sea shimmered in the half-light. I heard what I thought was a shot, then another one
‘I think they have spotted us Frankie.’
‘Yeah, it all starts now Harry.’
‘Just then, the few angry shots turned into mayhem; the sky was alight with a huge fireworks display except this wasn’t Guy Fawke’s day. These bastards were serious. Most of the blokes did not show any fear and thumbed their noses at Abdul until a few of them slumped in the boat with blood oozing from their wounds. I said to Frankie ‘If this is what little birds sound like I’ll be fucked.’ He didn’t answer and when I turned to look at him and half his head had gone.’
‘Fucking hell, Frankie why didn’t you have your stupid head down, bloody hell?’
The officer on board told us: ‘Make a landing where you can, lads, and hold on!’
They were using leather megaphones attached to their wrists because no body could hear them over the sound of firing.’ The tows cast off and we were on our own. Those blokes at the oars rowed like demons. Some were shot and others took their place at once and not a word was said. Presently we grounded and, in an instant, were in the water up to our waists and wading ashore with bullets flying all around us.
My landing was a bit awkward. I was responding to an officer’s call: ‘Hop out and after ‘em, lads’ but I bloody lost my footing on the slippery stones of the seabed, then fell a second time as I stepped ashore because of the weight of my saturated uniform.
Meanwhile, Abdul’s bullets were killing and maiming so many blokes the rest of us were bloody upset. A medical officer recalled a calm midshipman handing him his satchel, “as if he were landing a pleasure party” when he fell back into the boat, shot through the head.
The water became red with the blood and the corpses of our mates were floating everywhere, I am telling you Uncle Harry, it was bloody horrible.’ ‘But you made it to the beach Harry?’
‘Well yeah but that wasn’t any picnic either we were running, we looked up at these bloody big cliffs. Abdul was gunning us down with their fucking machine guns and starting to send their shells down on us. The noise was shocking and my cobbers were falling all around me. All I could do was fire back, but we had little chance of hitting one of the bastards.
They tried to organise us so we could start climbing the cliffs and dig some trenches for some sort of protection, however a lot of the blokes were running each way and that to avoid Abdul’s bullets so it was a bit difficult. We were crawling along the cliff face, which was falling away from under our feet.
Every time we seemed to make some progress, the Turks would spot us and open fire, killing more than fifty of the group that first night. Our officer was Lieutenant Jack Paul, he was a good bloke and cared about his men. He received orders from General Birdwood to dig in and establish a trench line against the Turks. That was easier said than done but we gave it a bloody good go.
The next day it was obvious that we were not going to hold our ground and we needed to piss off to the beach and consolidate our forces. We were crossing a place called Lone Pine when the Turks let loose and nearly killed the bloody lot of us. It was a slaughterhouse.
Gallipoli 6th of August 1915
Young Harry Daniel had survived the first three months or so in Gallipoli. He had survived numerous clashes with the Turks and,
