Gallipoli Legend

Gallipoli Legend
That day Mecidiye Fort located on the Eurpean side of the strait was highly damaged. The commander of the Fortified positions Cevat was going back and forth between fire lines since the morning. As Cevat Pasha has learned that Mecidiye fort had seriously damaged he departed to the European side again. While he was walking among the ruins, he saw a soldier lying under a tree. He went and asked: "What is it, son?" Then the soldier stood up hurriedly and saluted him. However, his eyes were looking somewhere else. Cevat Pasha asked again "Is anything happened to your eyes, my son?" The soldier answered "Do not worry, sir. I have already seen everything" (He meant HMS Ocean the destroyer which was sunk by Turkish fire). Cevat Pasha stopped talking and began to cry silently.

One of the heroes of Helles and Suvla was Sergeant Mehmet the bomber. This heroic Turkish boy was catching the hand grenades, which the English threw on Turkish trenches and he with an unbelievable speed was throwing them to the other side again. Probably the English have realised that and they began to throw the grenades following one another, to hinder the reply of Mehmet. Henceforth, one of the grenades exploded in the hand of Mehmet and he lost his right arm. This manly youngster in his letter addressed to his division's commander was saying; - I have lost my right arm, its nothing, I still have my left arm. I can still be of service. There is only one thing depressing me, my wound is still open. That is why I can't leave the hospital. Please forgive me, your highness.!

Dear Mom,
Glorious Turkish mother who gave birth to four soldiers! I have received your letter while I was sitting under a pear tree in a greenish meadow. Your letter encouraged my soul that is enraptured by the beauty of nature. I have read it. I took lessons from your lines. I have read it again and again. I felt the joy to be in a holy mission, here. I opened my eyes and looked far-off. The wind was bending the crops down. They seemed to salute the letter written by my mother. The crops were bending down and celebrating me for the letter I have received from my mother.
I turned my eyes to right side there I saw magnificent pine trees; they were bringing good news to me with a sound proper to them. I turned my eyes to left, there I saw the singing stream, she was smiling to me, and playing happily, and she was full of joy for the letter that my mother wrote... I raised my head upwards; I looked to the leaves of the tree, which I am resting in its shade. They were sharing my joy with their dances. I looked another branch of the tree, there was most beautiful nightingale on it, and she was singing her best melodies to celebrate me. She was sharing my feelings with her delicate beak. In these moments, my service man said:
• Sir, here is you tea, would you drink?
• Thank you. I said and took the tea. It was with milk. I asked.
• Mustafa, where did you find the milk?
• Sir, from the flock in that pasture. I bought it from its shepherd. I paid ten para.
My dear mother, a kilo of milk to ten paras, it has no water in it. It was just milked from the sheep. I drank it. However, I was thinking, I am drinking fresh milk with the money, my dearest mother has sent. Unfortunately, my mother can not drink it. Why my mother is deprived from it? Why Sevket can not drink it?
Nevertheless, the nightingale was shouting: - It’s bit of a bad luck for your mother. You are not to blame. If your mother would be man, she would see the bending crops, the dancing of the stream and she would smell the flowers.!
Tell Sevket not to be curious, he will see, probably he will see places that are more beautiful. Dear Mother, please do not be sad. I will bring you here. I will show you this wonderful scene. Sevket and Hilmi will see too.
My soldiers are doing the washing. They are parts of this greenish picture. One of them is praying ezan. O God; this meadow is as beautiful as his voice. The nightingale stopped singing. The crops stood still. Even the stream is quite. They all listen to that sacred voice. He finished ezan. I washed myself in the stream. We prayed the namaz. I have bend on my knees in this enchanting meadow. I have forgotten all the chaos and confusion of the world. I raised my hands and prayed to God: - The God of the Turks! The Nation belonged to this Green Meadows and Majestic Mountains! God you gave this treasury to the Turkish Nation. Grant them to the Turkish Nation. This nation extolling your name deserves those beautiful places.
My God! Only intention of those soldiers is to prove your glorious name to the British and the French. Bless this honourable intention. Sharpen our bayonets and destroy our enemies. We soldiers are praying for you and shaking in front of your glory.!
I prayed and stood up. From then on, there was no other man happier than I was. This is the most beautiful place of the earth.
I wrote a letter to Kadir. Dear Mother, please do not give vouchers or other things to anyone. If they ask, please say, - we do not know.! Put the case in the chest. As I told you once, the world is full of swindlers. Please do not worry. Do you remember how we took our money from the man in the justice court? We only need time. Everything will be fine. Dear Mother, I do not need new underwear. I still have my money. God Bless You.
Your Son, Hasan Ethem, 17 April 1915

Hundreds of young men who were from Canakkale villages were gathering in troops everyday to join the army. After the training and equipment of these inexperienced soldiers were provided, they were sent to from. In the afternoon, while Captain Sırrı was inspecting soldiers who had just come to the front, he saw a soldier whose one part of his hair was hennaed among the soldiers and teased him : -“has any man ever been heanned?” Hasan said: “Before I came here, my mother hennaed my hair, captain. He added that he did not know the reason of his henna on his the front from Karayakup Village of Sorgun in Yozgat wrote a letter to his mother upon the order of his cammander. Hasan wrote these: “Do not put Henna on hair of my brothers, while you are sending them to army, mummy! The commander asked me the reason of the henna on my hair, but I could not answer him. I wish that my brothers were not ashamed of answering to their commanders.
Written in the letter of Hasan’s mother;
Eyed boy Hasan,
We sit in our village by doing nothing? The love of country is the most important one for us. You are able to do what your father and ancestor did…I am your mother and the one who creats us is God, and the country brough us up. We owe to our country for everything we have. You were chosen as a victim of this family… Tell your commander my son : The sheep that are going to be sacrificed are hennaed in our village …I also sacrificed you for our country amongs my sons; therefore, I hennaed your hair by the will of God. I wish God does not go divert you away from the route of Ismail the Prophet. Algels will mention your name with grace from now on.
Kiss your eyes.
Your mum, Hatice”
Hasan who was sacrified for this beautiful country was a vovite. He fights and fights in the front. And then, he was wounded and he was taken back. He was brought to military hospital in Kocadere Village which was back of the ront. However, he had died before he was treated. Hasan would also be buried in the graveyard of village, after his and the other martyrs identity were determined. Officer Namzedi Mehmet Efendi who was responsible for these dead, looked for his clothes are found the latter of Hasan’s mother and incomplete scribble of a poem .
“My mother hennaed my hair as a voite
I was born as a victim for my country gift of my mum to God
My captain! I was born “Ismail”
Hasan’s”mother represent sincerity, love and belief. His mother brought him up as worthy person. Everyone cried for Hasan, while he was being buried. Birds and foxes saw him off, the rain washed him and suddenly all were startled with a sound from an unidentified place.
“Hasan will ascend into my special Heaven.”
And the, everybody said “Amen!” in tears. The immortality of Turk’s heroism in Gallipoli Campaign is in this legend. Eras will change, human beings will change; however, these immortal heroes will always live regardless of time.

John Simpson Kirkpatrick, affectionately known as “the man and his donkey”, was born on the 6th of July 1892 in South Shields, England.
He landed at ANZAC Cove at 5 a.m. on the 25th of April 1915 and was mortally wounded in Shrapnel Gully, near the mouth of Monash Valley, on the 19th of May 1915 at the age of 22. during the 24 days he spent at ANZAC, he operated as a aole unit with his beloved donkey/s and is credited with saving the lives of propably hundreds of men. He has become a part of the ANZAC folklore and though recommended for the Victoria Cross, twice, and the Distinguished Conduct Medal, he was never decorated for his actions.
Prior to joining up he dropped Kirkpatrick from his name and took on Simpson as his surname possible because a deserter from the Merchant Marines may not be accepted into the army. Simpson, a big strong lad, was allotted to the Filld Ambulance as a stretcher bearer. Simpson had hoped that, by joining the army, he might get a free trip back home to England which was where the initial Australian force were destined to go for their basic training. They were diverted to Egypt when it was realized that England wasn’t preperad for this large colonial force.
Exactly 8 months after enlisting Simpson landed at ANZAC Cove, Gallipoli, as a stretcher bearer, with “C” section, 3rd Field Ambulance, 1st Australian Imperial Force. “C” section rowed ashore from the transport “Devanha”. Just before dawn, at about 5.00 a.m. Sunday April the 25th 1915, they leapt from the boat and waded ashore.
Simpson was the second man in the water. The first and third men were killed. Casualties on the first day were appalling. Of the 1500 men in the first wave, 755 remained in active service at the end of the day. The remainder were killed of wounded. Those that did remain were badly affected by the shortage of food and particularly water in the sub-tropical sun.
A primitive collecting post was established using the cover of the overgrown vegetation beyond the beach. Capt . Douglas McWhae of “C” Section wrote of the landings “The Red-Cross flag was put up aftera time. The three sections were going for all day were worth… they had iodine and field dressings; all splints were improvised using rifles and bushes. They were terrible wounds to deal with.” By dawn on the second day the ANZAC’s were holding onto a 500 acre piece of ground. The Turks held the high ground and looked down into the ANZAC position at almost every angle. Stretcher parties were under constant rifle and artillery fire.

Several donkeys were landed and some had been abandoned were grazing in the wild overgrown gullies. Simpson, having already carried two heavy men down from the front lines, responded to a call from a wounded man. He had by this time been reported missing, saw a donkey grazing nearby and decided to use the donkey to help carry him to the beach. The donkey responded to the sure touch of the friendly man with the experience gained at Murphys Fair as a young man back in South Shields. There was no saddle, stirrups or reins. Simpson made a head stall and lead from bandages and field dressing for this first trip. He lifted the wounded man onto the donkey and held onto him as e guided the donkey to the beach.
From this day on Simpson decided to act as an independent unit. He did not report back to ambulance headquarters for instructions and for the first 4 days was technically a deserter until his CO (Commanding Officer), seeind the value of his work, agreed to turn a blind eye and approved his actions. Later he made a saddle from bags and blanketsand used ropes for the head stall and lead. Some of his friend made a small bell from the nose cone of a shell.
Simpson and his donkey would make their way up Shrapnel Gully, the main supply route to the front line, into Monash Valley and onto the deadly zone around Quinn’s Post where the opposing trenches were just 15 yards apart. Simpson would start his day as early as 6.30 a.m. and often continue until as late as 3:00 a.m. He made the one and a hilf mile trip, through sniper fire and shrapnel, 12-15 times a day. He would leave his donkey under cover, whilst he went forward the collect the injured. On the return journey he would bring water for the wounded. He never hesitated or stopped, even under the most furious shrapnel fire and was frequently warned of the dangers ahead but invariably replied “my troubles”.
The need for fodded led him to the only source, which was at the foot of Shrapnel Gully, in the form of the 21st Kohat Indian Mountain Artillery Battery*2. The Indians had brought mules to houl their artillery and had brought plenty of fodder. Simpson set up camp with them, slept and ate with them and was idolised by them. The Indians called him “Bahadur” which means “the bravest of the brave”. To the other troops he was known as “Scotty”, “Murphy”, “Simmie”, and generally “the man with the donk”.

On May 19th 1915, at 3:00 a.m., the Yurks mounted a major counter-offensive. It was during the final fling of the attack that Simpson made his wat up the gully towards Courtney’s Post where the fighting had been most furious. It was his habit to stop at the water guard and have breakfast. On this day he was too early and breakfast was not ready. “Never mind”, said Simpson as he continued on his way “get me a good diner when I come back”.
He picked up a wounded man, place him on the donkey, Duffy, and made his way towards the beach. On his way he passed and chatted briefly with Private Langoulant, Lance Corporal Andy Davidson (both friends from Blackboy Hill training camp) and Private Mahoney, who had been in charge of the boat they landed in. It was as he reached the very spot where General Bridges has been hit a four days before that Sisnaller D.M. Benson, who was dug in beside the track, shouted to him “Watch out for that machine gunner. He’s got a couple of blokes this morning already.” Simpson waved back in acknowledgement and, grinning, contiuned on his way.
Moments later Simpson was hit in the back by the machine gun. The bullet passed out the front of his stomach killing him instantly. The force of the bullet picked him up and threw him face down in the dirt. Davidson, Mahoney and Langoulant amongst others ran back to Simpson but it was too late. The wounded man on the donkey was wounded a second time and as he grasped the donkey’s neck, he passed out. He donkey, frightened, and stil with the wounded man on his back ran down to his usual destination, No.2 Dressing Dought.
There, Padge C.J. Bush-King, helped lift the wounded man from the donkey. He recalled “ I turned the donk around. I slapped its rumo. It slowly moved off from whence it came, I followed. Moving slowly, the donk browsed what rough feed he could, and went along the track made familiar by use. When we came to the most dangerous place, Simpson’s body lay there.” Davidson said, “We covered his body and put it in a dugout beside the track and carried on with our job. We wnt back for him at bout 6.30 p.m., and he was buried at Hell Spit*5 on the same evening.” Private Johnson made a simple wooden cross with the inscription “John Simpson”. Chaplin-Colonel George Gren (Church of England) officiated at the burial service.
One of the 1st Battalion missed him from the gully that day and asked “Where’s Murphy?” The Sergeant replied “Murphy’s at Heaven’s Gate, helping the soldiers through.”