The evacuation from Anzac was not by any means a defeat, but it became obvious we could do no good there and were getting hell from the new, bigger Turkish guns, but we had attempted the impossible at the Dardanelles and the Turks can make a very good story of their victory.
We are now within a mile of the shore and the din has increased . . . the whole side of the mountains seems to be sending forth tongues of flame and the bullets fairly rain upon us . . . the water is churned up from rifle fire, machine-guns, Maxims, shrapnel and common shells . . . seven of the boys in our boat are killed and God knows how many in the others.
Our boat's bottom scratches the rocky shore . . . we wade ashore with the feeling that we are at least one of the first to put foot on Turkish soil . . . silent forms lay scattered on the beach everywhere: some gone to their last resting place, some writhing in their last agonies, others with their life-blood fast oozing out . . .
It was a remarkable day and a day in which it was easy to pick out the wasters, also the brave men. I am delighted with our Australian troops, the way they take the gruel is splendid. At times there was a shortage of ammunition and reinforcements were badly wanted. But seeing they had landed everything under shell fire, I should say they did very well.
“We were scared stiff – I know I was – but keyed up and eager to be on our way. We thought we would tear right through the Turks and keep going to Constantinople. Troops were taken off both sides of the ship onto destroyers. My platoon and other D Company men were on the same destroyers. All went well until we were making the charge into rowing boats.
Suddenly all hell broke loose: heavy shelling and shrapnel fire commenced. Bullets were thumping into us in the rowing boat. Men were being hit and killed all around me.
When we were cut loose to make our way to the shore was the worst period. I was terribly frightened. The boat touched...