Free The Gallipoli Letter by Keith Murdoch Page A

occasions proved his weaknesses, only one thing can be done. He has very seldom been at Anzax [sic]. He lives at Imbros. The French call him the General who lives on an Island. The story may not be true, but the army believes that Hamilton left Suvla on August 21 remarking “Everything hangs in the balance, the Yeomanry are about to charge.” Of course the army laughs at a general who leaves the battlefield when everything hangs in the balance.
    I could make this letter interminable, and I fear that I have only touched very incompletely on a few phases. What I want to say to you now very seriously is that the continuous and ghastly bungling over the Dardanelles enterprise was to be expected from such a General Staff as the British Army possesses, so far as I have seen it. The conceit and self-complacency of the red feather men are

    PLATE 8 Three Anzac soldiers shelter from bursting shells in a shallow trench, June 1915. It took a couple of days for men to accept the random danger of life at Anzac—to stop ducking when they heard the whizz of a shell overhead, or not flinch when a bullet thudded into a sand-bagged parapet wall protecting them all. Photographer J.P. Campbell, by permission of the National Library of Australia, an23297150-v
    equalled only by their incapacity. Along the line of communications, and especially at Mudros, are countless high officers and conceited young cubs who are plainly only playing at war. What can you expect of men who have never worked seriously, who have lived for their appearance and for social distinction and selfsatisfaction [sic], and who are now called on to conduct a gigantic war? Kitchener has a terrible task in getting pure work out of these men, whose motives can never be pure, for they are unchangeably selfish. I want to say frankly that it is my opinion, and that without exception of Australian officers, that appointments to the General Staff are made from motives of friendship and social influence. Australians now loathe and detest any Englishmen wearing red. Without such a purification of motive as will bring youth and ability to the top, we cannot win. I could tell you of many scandals, but the instance that will best appeal to you is that of the staff ship Aragon. She is a magnificent and luxurious South American liner, anchored in the Mudros harbour as a base for the Staff of the Inspector-General of Communications. I can give you no idea of how the Australians—and the new British officers too—loathe the Aragon. Heaven knows what she is costing, but certainly the staff lives in luxury. And nothing can exceed the rudeness of these chocolate general staff soldiers to those returning from the front. The ship’s adjutant is the worst instance of rude and disgusting snobbishness and incapacity I have come across. With others, plain downright incapacity is the main characteristic. I must say this of them also, that whereas at our 3rd Australian General Hospital on shore we had 134 fever cases, including typhus, with only a few mosquito nets, and no ice, and few medical comforts, the Aragon staff was wallowing in ice. Colonel Stawell—you know him as Melbourne’s leading consultant—and Sir Alex. M’Cormick are not sentimentalists. But they really wept over the terrible hardships of the wounded, due to the incapacity of the Aragon. One concrete case is that of 150 wounded men landed in dead of night, with no provision and no instructions, at the hospital beach, to make their way as best they could to the hospital, which had no notice of their arrival. Fiaschi, de Crespigny, Stawell and Kent Hughes will be able to tell you of the absolutely shocking difficulties of this hospital in face of perpetual snubbing and bungling of the Aragon staff. While I was at the hospital a beautiful general and his staff rode in to make an inspection. Despite their appearance as perfect specimens of the general staff, I thought, we shall now get the ice from the