Call of the Kiwi (27 page)

“What did you think would happen?” Greg yelled at him.

Roly did not answer. His childlike eyes, already large, grew larger. Even as the soldiers in the boats were being mowed down, more and more reached the shore, leaped onto the beach, and sought cover behind the rocks. The Turks then fired on the sailors rowing back.

“I can’t go out into that, damn it.” Bobby O’Mally shivered.

“Do we have to?”

“No,” Jack said. “Our turn comes later. With the medics, maybe even later. Thank God we’re better at digging than shooting.”

To Jack’s amazement, most of his men were still burning to throw themselves into the fight on the shore. They waited impatiently for the attackers to fight their way through to an inland plateau about a mile from shore, where it would be their job to provide the newly landed troops with cover, or try to anyway. When their turn came to move on land, the beach was still under fire, and the New Zealanders received their baptism by fire. Jack and his men secured the unloading of the field hospitals, which were already desperately needed. The wounded filled the beach, and Commander Beeston gave orders to set up the tents right there.

“And see to it that the shooting here stops,” he roared at the New Zealanders. “I can’t work with bullets buzzing past my head.”

Lieutenant Keeler gathered up his men for the push inland. Jack and the others had been shouldering the stretchers. A battalion of Australians prepared to give them covering fire.

“We’ll begin digging trenches right behind the front lines,” Keeler ordered. “You know how the three-trench system goes: one for the reserves, a large trench in the middle, and one at the front. I’d say sixty-five yards between each.”

Jack nodded. That was the typical British defense system. The forward trench was generally only occupied in the morning and evening when the battles raged most heavily. The middle trench—also called the support or “travel” trench—was where the soldiers spent most of the time, and reserve troops could gather in the third trench when an offensive was taking place.

Jack and his men dug the last one first, which was relatively safe since the front lay far enough in front of them that they received cover. Bit by bit, however, the trench diggers inched toward the front line, where they implemented the elaborate trench construction techniques they’d learned. Those techniques were similar to the procedure for extending mining shafts except that only the floor and walls were reinforced. Once the tunnels were a few yards deep, they would collapse the roofs, which often tumbled down on the workers’ shoulders. The sound alone was enough to send Roly into a panic, so Jack assigned him to the rear where he could dig and remove rubble under an open sky, and he gave it his all.

Roly was strong as a bear, and the other coal and gold miners no less so. Nevertheless, even with hundreds of men on the job, it took many hours to raise the first trench system. Jack and his men dug straight through the first night in Gallipoli. It had turned bitterly cold and begun to rain, and the soldiers in the forward positions lay wet and anxious in the mud with their weapons. The Turks fired incessantly, and food and water support was not yet operational.

“See to it that you install a few bunkers,” instructed Major Hollander, who already had experience with trench warfare in France. “The men need to be somewhere dry as soon as relief comes.”

Jack nodded and directed his men to reinforce parts of the trench with boarding. In one of these reinforced sections, his men finally fell asleep as the sun rose over Gallipoli. Even Roly followed his friends beneath the earth, but he could not rest and eventually slipped out and sought shelter beneath his waxed jacket. Although the shooting continued, he felt much safer than in the bunker.

Already that morning it was clear that the Turks would not let themselves be driven inland as quickly as the troops had hoped. The attackers prepared for a longer siege and separated the soldiers into two divisions. The Australians would hold the right side of the front, the New Zealanders the left. The men finally had some time to orient themselves a bit.

“A beautiful area if you’re a hermit,” Greg remarked sarcastically. The shores of Gallipoli were not very populated.

Jack attempted not to think about the cliffs at Cape Reinga.

“What’s behind those?” Roly asked, pointing at the mountains.

“More mountains,” answered Jack. “With pretty steep valleys in between. There’s no flat ground anywhere. And everything’s covered with scrub, ideal for the Turks to camouflage themselves.”

“Did they tell you lot that beforehand?” Bobby asked. “I mean, did they know? Why’d they send us here then?”

“Didn’t you hear what the general said? This is one of the hardest tasks that can be asked of a soldier, but we of the ANZAC will conquer it.” Roly struck his chest proudly.

“It won’t be easy,” said Jack, “and if you even want a chance at being a hero, you should get back to digging. Otherwise they’ll pick you off like rabbits.”

The Turks had begun laying out their own trench system by then, which was probably no less complicated than that of the British. Though the British artillery had managed to knock out several machine-gun nests, Jack and the others were relieved when the first trenches were finished and offered them protection. Only Roly seemed to fear the earthworks more than the enemy fire. He continued to sleep outside instead of ensconcing himself in a bunker. A few rocks between the trenches and the beach gave him his only cover.

Jack continued to look on this with concern; it only became truly precarious, however, as the trench construction inched closer to the Turks and precipitated fierce resistance.

As Jack’s unit continued to dig deeper into the earth, Roly, driven by the others’ jeers, toiled with clenched teeth. Even with a face pale as death, he still managed to do more than Greg and Bobby. Jack McKenzie and Lieutenant Keeler took turns admonishing the two of them.

“I’m not a mole,” Bobby grumbled, and Jack turned his eyes toward heaven. Greg, too, had announced that he would much rather go on patrols than scrabble about in the dirt. The terrain being so cramped, the opposing forces had dug in little more than a hundred yards from each other and had been providing the ANZAC troops with harassing fire all day, which motivated Jack to dig at top speed. He wanted to finish and clear the field for the artillery. After all, it was only a matter of time before the Turks would have their trenches fully manned and more heavily armed.

And then his worst fears came true all at once. Unlike the ANZACs, the Turks had hand grenades, and someone on the other side began using the New Zealanders for target practice.

Jack and his men were working below ground when the first grenade exploded in the trench behind them. It sent earth flying and tore up the men who had been laying joists there. Though they did not have a direct view of the spot—the angle protected them from the spewing shrapnel and flying debris—Jack and the others heard the screams.

Jack quickly recognized the danger.

“Get out of here! Quick, into the trenches.”

The communication trenches behind them offered protection and the opportunity to withdraw, but Jack figured they would be crammed with soldiers pushing toward the front.

“Nonsense!” Lieutenant Keeler thundered. “To the defensive stations. Into the finished trenches and fire back. Fix bayonets in case anyone breaks through. Shut the bastards out.”

Before the men could even work out the contradictory commands, more grenades started exploding all around, one of them directly over their heads. The earth shook, and the tunnels collapsed. The men instinctively held boards over their heads. Though they could hardly be buried since the tunnels were little more than a yard beneath the surface—and the collapsing soil actually provided them with cover—Roly O’Brien could no longer think. Instead of lying flat, he shook the earth off himself in a daze, sat up halfway, and started to run toward the back. When he saw the trench crammed with men, he began to climb out. Someone pulled him down by his belt. Roly fought back and suddenly found himself facing Major Hollander.

“Now what’s all this, soldier?”

Roly stared back at him with a crazed look in his eyes. “I have to get out of here,” he screamed and made another attempt to break free. “I need to get out. The mine is collapsing.”

“You mean to desert, soldier?”

Roly did not understand him. “Out! We all need to get out.”

“The man doesn’t know what he’s saying, sir.” Lieutenant Keeler, having worked his way out of the rubble, now interceded. “First encounter with the enemy, sir. It’s panic, sir.”

“We’ll beat that out of him,” the major said, landing two powerful slaps on Roly’s cheeks. Roly fell backward, but came halfway back to his senses and felt for his rifle.

“Excellent,” Lieutenant Keeler said. “Ready your rifle, find an embrasure, return fire. The quicker you do, the quicker you’ll get out of here.”

“This will have consequences. For you as well, Lieutenant,” said Major Hollander. “You nearly let the rat desert. When this is over, I want to see both of you in my tent.” Then he threw himself into battle.

Roly allowed two of his comrades to lead him to a niche in the trench, where they forced him to aim his rifle. Though the air was filled with lead, he was no longer underground. Roly could breathe again.

The ANZACs were firing with full force, supported by their artillery. Though it grew gradually quieter in the Turkish trenches, it seemed to take an eternity for night to descend and the fire to ebb. The most dangerous times were the morning and evening hours since twilight offered more cover than daylight. During the day it was mostly quiet, and at night both sides limited themselves to the occasional harassing fire.

Jack and his men were ordered to the rear lines. Only a small force remained in the main battle trench. The rescue troops set to work gathering up the casualties. Bobby O’Mally threw up when he saw the shredded body parts of the men who had been working behind him. Lieutenant Keeler had been lightly wounded, and Roly treated the grazing wound with tea-tree oil and bandages.

“You do that well, Lance Corporal,” said the lieutenant. “But about before.”

“The major’s not really going to put him in front of a tribunal, is he, sir?” Jack asked, worried.

“Nah, I doubt it. A panic attack like that during the first encounter with the enemy happens. Besides, he fought very bravely afterward. The only bad piece of luck was that he ran right into the major. We’ll think of something. Don’t hang your head, O’Brien. The major is a bit overzealous, but he’ll calm down. Now let’s put it behind us.”

Jack tried not to worry about Roly and Keeler, but he didn’t relax until Roly was back safe and sound from his meeting with the major.

“The major chided both of us,” Roly explained, “But otherwise it wasn’t bad. Only, tomorrow we’re to volunteer for a morning attack; they’re sending a few regiments to Cape Helles, where the English made their landing.”

“By ship?” Jack asked.

“Overland. We’re supposed to fall on the Turks’ rear and capture some mountain.”

Greg grinned. “Sounds like an adventure. What do you say, Bobby, we’ll sign up too.”

Roly smiled hopefully. “What about you, Corporal McKenzie?” he asked.

“Just Jack. I don’t know, Roly.”

“Now don’t be a stick-in-the-mud, Corporal,” Bobby laughed. “You might be a sergeant by the time we come back.”

“They degr
a . . .
anyway, I’m just a private again,” Roly said.