28th-30th Apr, 1915

Chapter XXIII – The Relief by the Marines
28th-30th Apr, 1915] RELIEF BY THE MARINES 535
A concentration area was fixed at the mouth of Shrapnel Gully and on the folds south of it, and to this for two days there straggled along the Beach or down various tracks from the hilltops individual men, men in twos and threes, men in platoons, with or without officers. Bearded, ragged at knees and elbows, their putties often left in the scrub, dull-eyed, many with blood on cheeks and clothes, and with a dirty field-dressing round arm or wrist, they were far fiercer than Turks to look upon. They had long since taken the wire hoops from their caps in order to break the obvious outline which too often had showed like a disc in the scrub. Many had learned to wear for camouflage a spray of holly over the peaks of their caps or in the bands of their battered and bullet-torn Australian hats. Officers were often indistinguishable from men; buttons were gone, and stars scored in indelible pencil on shoulder-straps became a recognised badge of an officer’s rank. The normally dapper Major Drake Brockman. sitting worn-out at the foot of Pope’s Hill, was accosted by a sergeant-major of the 13th Battalion as he rounded up a ration party. “Come on m’lad; we’re all tired, but we’ve got to get this water up the hill!” Many wandered in a half-sleep, like tired children. When that nurse of his men, Major Brand, gave the last worn-out party under Rafferty biscuits and cheese, cigarettes, and a tot of rum, the men, after beginning to eat, went to sleep with the food still in their hands Corporal Louch, of the 11th, when he stumbled into the trenches from the battle outposts, found a tin of water and then fell asleep. He waked, went down steep paths in the scrubby hillside to the Beach, collected some sticks, lit a fire, boiled a mess-tin of water for tea, and cleaned his rifle while the water was boiling. Then he tried the tea and found he did not want it. He started along the Beach to Hell Spit, dragging his rifle through the sand by its sling and trailing in the other hand the overcoat - either Clarke’s or that of some other man of the 3rd - which he had dragged with him from his pot-hole. His face, cut by a bullet, was caked with blood, and he had a four days’ beard. Some friend passing asked him where Clarke was. “Yes - he’s here,” he replied; and then realised that he had not seen him since reaching the trenches.

536 THE STORY OF ANZAC [25th-30th Apr., 1915

Many of these men came to the Beach as country men come to the city - to a great centre of wonderful sights of which they had heard the vague mention - a scene changed beyond all recognition since the wild rush from the landing place in the dawn. The packs which they had piled there were in many cases long since rifled or scattered, for the sentries guarding them had been rounded up on the first night and sent to the firing line. But men met friends and mates whom they had little thought to see again. Often each group had imagined itself to comprise all the survivors of the battalion. The concentration area was under intermittent shrapnel and sprayed with a desultory fire from unaimed or distant rifles. But they heeded all this less than the drops of a summer shower. All day the men swam, washed, mended their clothes, and gave one another the benefit of their experiences. The roll of each battalion was called. On the average it had entered the fight with thirty officers and 930 men.
Of the missing a proportion were afterwards found to have been sent away wounded without any record being kept. The rest were dead. Of 5,000 who were lost in the 1st Australian Division only one man was a prisoner.