GETTING TO GALLIPOLI.

Gisborne Times, Volume XLV, Issue 4010, 17 August 1915, Page 3

GETTING TO GALLIPOLI.

I NO. 2.. A HALT BY THE WAY. A NIGHT LANDING. (From Malcolm Ross, Official War Correspondent with tho New Zealand Forces.) ANZAC, JuneOn our ship was a man who, like the Ameri.au Ambassador at. tho Court of St. James, was the only one in plain clothes. It appeared that ho was coining out to distil water for the army, and the necessary plant was following him on another vessel. For two years lie had been in the service of th Turks, latterly establishing a distilling plant on the shores of tho Red Sea at a place called Yoinlio, which is the port from-which pilgrims leave for Medina. He was with tho Turks for three weeks after war was declared against England, but they treated him very well, and when finally lie left in an Indian ship the. local Commander came on hoard to say good-bye to him and to wish him good luck. Of course he was a Scot, but we told him lie was a degenerate one, because lie was distilling the wrong article.

In the evening wo passed Crete a.nd sailed between desolate islands with

ail lights out. Thus we picked our v. ay through the archipelago, with the iSporades on one side and the Cyclades on the other, and the next evening arrived at- an island that was the first stage of our journey. Here was awonderful sight—-a fishing village, transformed into a busy harbor with many ships and muen work going on. ltumor with a hundred tongues Hew round the beach and between the slops hut there was no definite news of tne war or of what was happening on mil' particular front, except that on one day ‘4 ho French had done well at Holies.”

lie remained at this place for four days. In our particular ship we wore a collection of odds and ends —a. couple of generals, some doctors, and officers and troops returning with hc-aloo wounds. But wo could get no word of what, was to be done with our particulor section of the show’ so wo endeavored to possess our souls in patience the while wo frizzled in the heat, andgazed during the many hours of inaction across at the low brown and ochre hills, with here and there- a little village perched on the slopes, or watched the ships coming and going. At one time there were six other ships moored to us, so we made a broad line of seven, and watched a kind of general post, taking place from one to another, as cargo and troops and officers were transferred. Waiting thus, one became seized ot the fact that we were all pawns- in the great- game, to be moved oulv at tlm will of the high aufoorities. We realised also that the nearer you get to a- great war the less you know about it.'' At the front- the wires and the either have little time for news, and a man becomes concerned with only Ins own lit tic show, and even with his own little section of it. As for war correspondents, one begins to realise that they are not even pawns in the game. They are merely wandering knights, or hits of the board broken ojf that may or mav not. he wanted. However,' at the advanced base I met a cheery, clever, person woo laughed and joked and did things quickly and well all the time he joked, and the result was my journey was actvumvd 'upon its filial staffs. That cvoiiirijz; wo found ourselves on hoard a “sweeper'’ from the North Sea, and we steamed out. through _ the long booms, heading a course for Aiizae. One tried to get some sleep on the hard boards of the deck, hut towards midnight tin scene became too fascinating for sleep. Imbros, a km." silvery grey shadow in the moonlight, lav on our* left, and far away on the right- the lights of a hospital ship gleamed against- the loom oi the land at Cape Relies. The setting moon made a pathway of gold along our wake. By 1 n.m.' there was land ahead on our starboard bow, aim one bright light that- seemed to be beckoning us on. The land was the heights so bravely won jukl held above the little cove where the Australians and New Zealanders landed on the historic morning of 2/ith April. As we neared it other lights could he seen on the hillside. They were the lights ot densely populated Anzac, or such parts of it as wore awake. A continuous desultory crackle of ride fire came from the- heights, and a mile up the coast to the northward the loud guns of a destroyer boomed as she sent shell after shell 'inland to a Turkish position illuminated by her searchlight. Quite close a red cross blazing m the centre of a hand of green light marked a hospital ship waiting for her full load ot sick and wounded. Jn the darkness—the moon had now dipped into the Gulf of Paros—we scrambled into a motor pinnace, and in a little while we were on the wharf at Anzac, with die spent bullets from the Turkish snipers sinning over our heads and lamog with a, “phut” into the water. A cloaked figure with a lantern in his hand singled us out and conducted m to little crannies m the midst ot nuN piles of stores. The night was warm, W there was an overpowering odour of cheese and tarpaulin, so two ot us shifted to an “office” that was a gap in a huge pile of boxes. One- dossed down on the earthen floor; the othei stretched himself on the office talk, and we fell asleep, with the crackle of rifle fire and the booming of g-U.s in our ears.