ABSTRACT
In the early hours of 25 April 1915, lighters packed with men of the Anzac Corps and 29th Division slipped silently across the darkened and still waters of the Mediterranean towards the Gallipoli peninsula. The military operation on which they were embarked represented a daring attempt to land an amphibious force on hostile territory with the aim of capturing the Turkish forts dominating the Narrows and of assisting the now aborted passage of the Royal Navy through the Dardanelles. In an attempt to break out from the deadlock of trench warfare which was crippling forward movement on the Western Front, and in order to provide a ‘demonstration’ to assist their Russian allies, following reverses in the Caucasus, the British government had approved a plan formulated principally by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, to force a passage through the Dardanelles. This action, it was anticipated, would paralyse Constantinople into submission, thus forcing the Turks out of the war and opening up a new front against the Central powers. Upon these men of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, under the leadership of General Sir Ian Hamilton, rested grand hopes and expectations of striking a blow which would end the world war. This scene and its sense of anticipation was dramatically conveyed by the official historian, who was himself present to witness these events first-hand:
Sunrise at the Dardanelles on that unforgettable Sunday morning — the first Anzac day-was due at a quarter-past five, and the first streak of dawn at five minutes past four. During the hour of inky darkness that preceded the dawn the faint night breeze died suddenly, and the surface of the Aegean grew smooth and still as glass. In the face of the coming drama, the very elements appeared to hold their breath.
