WATCHWORDS ON GALLIPOLI

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 85, 4 January 1935, Page 8

WATCHWORDS ON GALLIPOLI

Muddle arid Red Tape

SCATHING INDICTMENT BY A GREAT AUSTRALIAN

Nobody now knows or cares what all tho passwords on Gallipoli were, but the late Sir John Monash, Australia’s general, says in his war letters that the watchwords for everything and everybody at Lemnos and Mudros were “inefficiency” and "muddle” and “redtape run mad.” lie admits difficulty in restraining himself in commenting on tho mismanagement of a campaign that was both a brilliant gamble and a tragic military joke. “There are ever so many gentlemen earning their war medals on board luxurious transports, decked all over with forget patches and arm-bands and lace, acting as deputy-assistant-acting- ■ lnspector-general-of-somethiiig-or other. . . . The latest rumour is that all these gallant gentry are to get three clasps to their war ribbon respectively for Inibros, Mudros, and Chaos.” General Monash’s letters are published in three parts—his periods as brigade commander, as division commander, and as corps commander. Though the letters do not contain any detailed description of battle plans or of the actions fought under his leadership, they are rich in illuminating details about the valour of the Anzacs and as is natural, particularly about the Australians, They also reveal the man and, as a first-class engineer, his scorn for the confusion and muddle and brilliant staff stupidity that the glamour of war so mercifully hides from a trusting people. Writing from Anzac on September 1915, Sir John Monash observes: “Well, to sum up recent operations calmly and dispassionately, I am afraid it must be admitted that lan Hamilton's plan in its entirety has so far failed to achieve the main objective, and this has tended to overshadow the many minor successes and the brilliant achievements of tho Australian troops and the New Zealanders. It is the old story—insufficient troops, inadequate munitions, attempting more than was possible with the means available. . . . Much of the fault with the British troops lay in tho leadership; the officers do not mix with tlie men as we do, but keep aloof, and some senior officers appeared chiefly concerned in looking after themselves and army after the war has been started. I only shows how hard it is to make an armby after a war has been started. 1 hope Australia will learn the lesson and England'too; and that the lesson will not prove a bitter one. ... I am more than ever satisfied that after the destruction of the regular army in France no other troops at the Empire’s disposal could have got and held a footing on Gallipoli, except the Australians and New Zealanders.” Muddle at Suvla Bay.

Referring to the unconscionable muddle at Suvla Bay General Monash says, “There are some things which don’t get into dispatches. It is an undoubted fact that during the first 48 hours after the landing at Suvla Bay, while there was an open road to the Dardenolles, and no opposition worth talking about, a whole army corps sat down on tho beach, while its leaders were quarrelling about questions of seniority and precedence; and it was just this delay of forty-eight hours which enabled the Turks to bring up their last strategic reserve from Bulair and render futile the whole purpose of that landing, which was to protect the left flank of the Anzac advance. The failure to do this held up our further offensive. Cheerful, isn’t it? . . . Somebody in the House of Commons asked the other day, ‘Why are the Australian troops being sacrificed in such large niynbers at the Dardenelles?’ It’s about time somebody began to ask questions, and it’s about time too that somebody asked about the treatment of Australian soldiers in Tommy hospitals, for it’s the absolute dizzy limit. Nothing could be better than our Australian, or New Zealand or Canadian hospitals, but as to the British hospitals here (Sarpi Camp, Mudros), well, tho sooner they hang somebody for gross mismanagement the better.” It ought to be said, however, that the letters are not all devoted to scathing indictments of mismanagement and military circumlocution. .Some of them contain passages which will appeal to every lover of beautiful English prose. The description of the evacuation of Anzac glows with vivid simplicity, and in many of the letters there are evidences of a kindly man giving the best of his great ability for the welfare .of soldiers who, instead of being uncouth Colonials, proved themselves to be inimitable warriors. Their treatment was in many ways shameful, and their commander does not hesitate to reveal it. As for himself his creed was simple and complete: “I always tell them (his own staff) I don’t care a damn for your loyal service when you think; lam right; when I really want it most is when you think I am wrong.” He was very proud of his work and his reputation, but in his daily attitude toward that work he never resented criticism. Great Englishmen have appraised his work. Mr. Lloyd George has written in his war memoirs: “Since the war I have been told "by men whose judgment I value that the only soldier thrown up by the war on the British side who possessed the necessary qualifications for the position of Commander-In-Chief, was a Dominion General. But I knew nothing of this at tho time. . . . He was a civilian soldier when the war broke out.” This allusion, beyond doubt, is to Sir John Monash. The Army in France. After nearly two years in France General Monash paid a fine tribute to the Allied forces. “The army in France is a glorious army. Its camaraderie, its prestige, its spirit and endurance, its morale and confidence are wonderful. It is an army . . . united in a bond of fellowship' such as there never was before in all history, and it is something to have lived for, and something to remember for the rest of one’s days to have held a high command in such an army. You say I might take up military work as a profession after the war. I hate the business of war, the horror of it. the waste, the destruction, and the inefficiency. Many a time I could have wished that wounds or sickness, or a breakdown of health would have enabled me to retire honourably from the field of action—like so many other senior officers . . . Not unless it became necessary for our bread and butter, and all other means had failed would I dream of becoming a paid servant of the State in any capacity whatever. I have fought all my life for personal independence, and shall not give up what I have won, except as a last resort.” ' . Sir John Monash died at his home in Toorak, Melbourne, on October 8. 1931, anil the State funeral accorded him crowds ot some-300,000 people. [■•War Letters of General Monash, rimed by F. M. Cuttack: publishers, An = us and ’Robertson, Sydney.]