Letters from Gallipoli

LETTERS OF THE REV’D J.W. BLENCOWE
FROM GALLIPOLI 1915

The uniform of the Chaplaincy to the ForceLeft John in uniform Right cap badge and brass Maltese Cross lapel badges

Letter instructing J W B to report for Chaplaincy duties

Letter No 1

Mediterranean (aboard SS Olympic)

September 29th 1915

My Dear Mother

The censorship is so strict that it is quite impossible to tell you any real news. I am quite well in spite of rough weather in the Bay of Biscay, which proved too much for the majority. I have also had a large back tooth removed. I have been inoculated and thus have rather a painful arm while I share with others a substantial ship’s cold. But I am feeling wonderfully fit and quite rested. I had my first Church Parade on Sunday, but although there were five services only very few could attend as there are such enormous numbers on board. Also throughout the Service many members of the congregation had to make hurried bolts to the side which was rather disturbing. The wind also was so terrific that it entirely drowned my voice and the noise of my sea-sick congregation. Next Sunday we shall be on land. The question of lost kit does not matter as we can only land with what we can carry. I wish I could tell you some thing of the voyage and what we are to do, and also of the ship, the numbers and the individuals on board. We have many M.Ps and even more Members of the House of Lords so this journey will be quite historic. The officers of my special Regiment are extremely nice from the Colonel downwards, and I am specially attached to the Suffolk Yeomanry for both officers and men have given me a most hearty welcome. I also have to look after a regiment of Welsh Horse who are attached to our Brigade, but I have not seen much of them. It is impossible to tell you any of the really interesting things which have happened on board, but I am trying to keep a diary instead. Will you tell Dad that I will not be able to see Whitehead. I hope you had a good rest at Banbury and that Dad is all right.

Your loving Son Jack

PS Parcels of socks and handkerchiefs will be very welcome. We land with very little and there is practically no water. The dirt and filth is very bad and both officers and men on shore are alive with vermin.

My address is:

Rev J.W. Blencowe, Suffolk Yeomanry, Eastern Mounted Brigade, Mediterranean Expeditionary Force

Letter No 2

Sunday October 10th 1915

British Expeditionary Forces Mediterranean

(aboard SS Olympic)

My dear Mother

I find I have just time to write a line and tell you I am alright. We have not been to Egypt and although we are in sound of gunfire we have not yet landed. We go to rather a bad spot, (where the Australians and New Zealanders are). We first went there on Friday night, but a storm got up and we could not land. Although under fire we only had one man killed. Tonight we are going to try again. As you approach Gallipoli and our landing, there is a perfect blaze of light, which one does not expect. It is like a brilliantly lighted town. The lights, of course, only point to seaward so the Turks cannot see them. Today , Sunday, I had a parade service and a celebration which I had to divide into two as there were nearly 300 present. Everyone is in the best of spirits and eager to get ashore. The feeling amongst the troops is quite wonderful. All my officers, including the General and his staff come to the celebration and the men come in very large numbers. We may have quite a large number tonight if the Turks have any idea of our landing. Today we have had a fight between aeroplanes and a transport or ours was sunk. I expect you have read how nearly we came to grief coming out. A submarine suddenly appeared just ahead. We were armed with two guns and maxims and the torpedo missed us because we twisted right round, firing on them all the time. If we had gone down it would have been the greatest disaster of the war. When I land I will try to write again, but I am uncertain of the ports.

I hope you and Dad are well and that the Belgians are all right.

Your loving Son, Jack

10 Oct.  landed at Walkers Pier, under orders of 54th (East Anglian) Division. Chaplain at the Gallipoli landing attached to the Suffolk Yeomanry.

Letter no 3

October 15th 1915

Trenches on Gallipoli

My dear Dad

We left our base which was quite close to here (I wrote from there last time) and got to Anzac last Friday night. We were huddled together under fire on a small transport, but only one man was killed. A squall got up very quickly and we could not land on the lighters so we left for a neighbouring island. From the sea the shore presented an extraordinary sight, as it was, of course, night, and the whole place was lit up by innumerable lights. It looked just like Brighton must look from the sea at night. The lights, of course, were all in our trenches, and did not show to the Turks. We stayed on the island till Sunday night, and then had another attempt which was more successful. We got ashore without casualties and marched about five miles through trenches to our present position, which is in a valley and rather exposed. There are a lot of stray bullets flying about at night when their sniper get to work, but they have not yet located our position with their guns. The big guns, both theirs and ours, go over us incessantly, but we have dug ourselves in well into the side of the hill so we are quite safe. I have just got my own little dug-out where I sleep alone with my colonel, very well sand bagged. I am rather disappointed that we have just had orders to quit for the front line trenches. It is a most extraordinary thing that the nearer you get to the Turks the safer you are. Our trenches are up the side of a hill and all their shot and guns go over our heads and we are thus much better protected. There will be no advance made here as the Suvla line is behind ours and we have to wait before we advance until the line gets straight. We have chiefly Australians, New Zealanders and Indians fighting with us. Our three regimental squadrons have already moved up. They went yesterday. The Reserves go with me today. For every man wounded in this neighbourhood there are 10 down with dysentery, but we have not suffered much yet in that respect. The noise of the guns is terrific, but one of my fellow officers has given me a pair of ear protectors, which help immensely. It is very cold indeed at night as we are of course sleeping in the open. The aeroplanes, both theirs and ours, are often fighting overhead: only one of theirs has been brought down in a blazing mess, but they have previously lost so many, that now ours hold almost undisputed command. I was left yesterday in command of the camp as I was senior officer, the others being Lieutenants and subalterns. General Birdwood inspected our camp and seemed quite pleased with everything. He was also very optimistic, but the Bulgarian Question, of course, is rather serious for us here. The Colonel, the second in command, and myself seem to constitute the main headquarters for the regiment. It is rather nice in many ways as I hear everything that is going on and get better fed than I would otherwise. The officers here are all extremely nice, while they appreciate our work and so very much like to have a chaplain with them. It is very difficult in some ways. You must go by days of the week. Two squadrons out of three are in the trenches, while the other squadron is in reserve. And I have a service for them regardless of the day. Tomorrow, Sunday, I have a service for the General and his staff at Headquarters and then go back and have another service just behind the trenches for the squadron in reserve. As men are never allowed to congregate together for fear of shrapnel, we have to have many services with a few at each. I also see practically nothing of the wounded and sick as they are taken off at once to the clearing hospital and then sent direct to the neighbouring island, Alexandria or home. These clearing hospitals have their own chaplains, and as we cannot go anywhere without an escort, it is very difficult for me to get to the clearing hospitals and see my own sick and wounded.

I am fit and well and thoroughly enjoying the life. I find my Melanesian experience invaluable and find I can be of assistance consequently in many small ways to those who have never roughed it before.

I am looking forward to getting letters from home. The postal arrangements are hopeless and we do not expect letters for another fortnight. I hope you and mother are keeping well and that the news, when it does come, will be good.

Your Loving Son Jack

Letter no 4

October 26th 1915

In Trenches Gallipoli

My dear Mother

I have not a great deal of news to tell you, but I expect you have been looking at the papers and wondering why there is so little about the Dardanelles in them. This campaign has really been a failure and I think they have given up the idea of getting across at once. We have far too troops out here, and the sickness is terrible. We have 302 now instead of 500, and although we shall get some back, they never stay long, as once you have dysentery your stomach does not get strong enough for some months to withstand the food, the water-which is very

bad- and the sleeping out on these cold and wet nights. Our position, too, renders it difficult to fight the dysentery. All this country is a mass of hills and gullies covered with a scrubby growth. There is nothing worth calling tree here.

A is the Turkish Hill with their trenches on the top. B is our hill with our trenches on the top. And our dug-outs just behind, and C is a hill covered with dead bodies of Turks and Indians. We can not bury them by day or night as the hill is completely covered by the Turks from their high position on A. All their high shots, which clear our trenches, come over our dug-outs and onto the hill C. As this place swarms with flies it is naturally not very healthy. The water too is very dirty. When we first landed, each man had so little that he drank it all. It is quite muddy but we have chlorates of lime to put into it and we then make it into tea. Now we are a little better off as we can most days each draw half a pail-full of very dirty water for washing purposes as well as our drinking water. We have, however, to sleep in our clothes and boots etc, for fear of a Turkish attack on our trenches, so we are rapidly become a very dirty and disreputable lot.

I went to Lemnos last Monday to see after some things we had left there as we came out. I was only there for one night. It was rather a relief to get away from the noise.

I am extraordinarily well and fit and love the life out here. Now that I am with people who have never been used to this sort of life, I find out what a great deal I learnt out in Melanesia. In many ways I am being constantly able to help.

My dug-out is so small that I have just got room to lie down and sleep in it. It is a Hole 4 feet deep, 3 feet across and 8 feet long. I have hollowed the earth out at the end, and I sleep with my head and chest underground, and the rest is covered with a waterproof sheet. It is rather primitive and like a rabbit hole, but it is quite sufficient and in time we shall get better dug-outs.

Letter ends here

Letter no 5

Extract from letter written in the trenches, probably between

October 26th and November 14th 1915

Next Sunday we move at about half past four in the morning to go to our rest camp for five days. It is far harder work there than here and we have just as many casualties from shrapnel and stray bullets. However I like it better as the men can sleep at night there and work in the day, while here it is the reverse way and consequently it is more difficult to get hold of them. You will be surprised to hear that we have a Confirmation Service in Sunday evening after dark: I have some candidates, including the regimental doctor, but preparation has been very difficult. Other chaplains till me that life itself out here is a preparation, and they only see their men once, but I don’t quite like that.

The ordinary service out here is, of course , a voluntary one. You could not possibly parade the whole regiment, as it would be highly unwise for a mass of troops to get together. When there is a lot, we have to have 2 or 3 services in succession. Even then, if shrapnel or high explosive shells burst near we have to disband. In the early morning though, we have a Celebration in peace, as the Turks will never fire their big guns at night, as the flash would give away their gun positions, and so we have our service before it is quite light.

I am glad to say our casualties have not been very frequent; practically no one has been hit in the trenches. They are frequently sending shrapnel over into our valley here and it is quite true, though it sounds a little curious, that the closer you are to the Turks the safer you are. We are supported by battleships which lie out at sea, and shoot just over our heads into the Turkish trenches, which are about 100 yards from where I am writing this in my little dug-out. At the present moment there is a vigorous bombardment going on, as a cruiser and two destroyers are bombarding their lines. The Turks are replying and both their shells and ours go with a curious droning sort of whistle over our heads. We have such a narrow strip of land that you can not possibly get out of range. The noise is rather trying but I have ear protectors which deadens the shock of the sound of the big guns. One gets so used to it that after a time you hardly notice it. I am very happy here and I love the life. Although it is hard it is not si hard as Santa Cruz and having so many friends around you makes such a difference. I am eagerly looking forward to a mail. I have had just a few letters, which you sent on 3 or 4 days after I left, but we are expecting another mail every day. I hope, if you forward letters, you will either send each separately or that you will put them in one envelope and tie it securely with string, as the last packet was open when I got it and I am so afraid that I lost some of the letters.

I hope you and Dad are well and not worried about any of us. Few mothers can have sons in France, the Dardanelles and East Africa. I wish there was more prospect of our succeeding here, but until they stop sending all the reinforcements to Salonika, and send them here instead, we have all we can do in just sticking to the little bit of land we have got. They reckon now that the regiment will not last till much after Christmas, as sickness and casualties will just about have used us all up. I hope that somehow or other the illness will be checked and our sick parade is already only half what it was, but , of course, we have only to lose 10 men a day to be pretty well finished by Christmas.

Your loving son Jack

Letter no 6

November 14th 1915

Anzac

My dear Mother

I hear that I have just time to write to you before a mail goes. I am still very well and I am glad to say that the regiment as a whole is better. There are not so many cases of dysentery now, but we have only 300 effective men left with over 180 in hospital. The weather has turned cold and killed some of the flies, although by no means all. Today we are in our rest camp; the first Sunday for some time that we have been able to have a service. I had over 50 at the celebration.

Tomorrow we go back into the trenches. Last Sunday morning, while you were at Holy Communion, I was lying at the bottom of a trench with two badly wounded men. The Turks got up close in the night and infiltrated a corner of our trench, and when daylight came they hit two of our men before we knew they were there. I looked after them and stayed with one other man for nearly two hours before we could move them. As long as we stayed at the bottom of the trench we were perfectly safe and \I was glad to be able to help them there, especially as there is very little hope of one getting over his wounds.

The next night we routed the Turks out, killing 6 and only three of our men were hit. I find the noise more trying than anything else. All these gullies magnify the sound so much. These are most bitter complaints about the mail. We have had two since we landed five weeks ago and today they came in the wrong order.

I should be most grateful for vests and socks and also for eatables, coffee, cakes and chocolate. They must be very well packed indeed. Our chances of getting them are not very bright but I wish you would try. Address my letters to Capt: J.W. Blencowe Suffolk Yeomanry British Expeditionary Forces in Med

Not to 1/1st Eastern Mounted Brigade.

With very best love and in great haste as I am keeping our postman waiting.

Your Loving son Jack

Letter no 7

November 23rd 1915

Malta

My dear Mother

You will be surprised to hear that I am now at Malta and in hospital. I have been rather bad but I am now much better, al though I expect it will be some time before I am all right again. I thought I had malaria 10 days ago, but I could do nothing with it and it got worse and worse and eventually they took me on a stretcher to the ship. What I thought was malaria, turned out to be both malaria and typhoid I was very bad for two days owing to the ague shaking up my stomach. Which was already very tender with the typhoid. Once I got clear of the malaria, I was much better and for the last four days I have been doing well. I think I shall be a couple of weeks or more still without solid food.

It is rather strange my getting typhoid as I have been doubly inoculated since joining the Army.I will write and let you know how I get on. Do not expect to hear too often as I think there is only one regular mail a week, although I hear there are some slow or irregular ones.

Just before coming away a list was sent us of both outgoing and incoming mails which have been lost for various reasons. There are a tremendous lot lost and I am afraid you must have missed many of my letters and I, many of yours.

Your loving son Jack

Letter no 8

December 3rd

St Andrew’s Hospital, Malta

My dear Mother

I am getting along by very slow degrees and my temperature is only about 100 now. When it is right down to normal they will give me some food. At present I have been for three weeks uncondensed milk and Bovril, with an occasional luxury like Bengers Food. The doctor is, however, very satisfied with my progress. It is quite possible that they will send me to England for a bit.

I am fairly comfortable here, but there are many too many patients for the number of nurses and orderlies and it is very difficult to get hold of anyone when you want them.

I am afraid there will be a tragedy in Gallipoli before long.

Your loving son Jack

Letter no 9

December 10th 1915

St Andrew’s Hospital, Malta

My dear Mother

You will be glad to know that I am getting along well, although my temperature still doesn’t behave as it should. However I have been allowed a little custard and toast which is a great advance. A week today, if everything goes very well, it is just possible that the Medical Board will come and inspect me. If they think I am strong enough, I shall go as a stretcher case some time following the following ten days to a hospital ship and then home to England where I shall, of course, go to another hospital. But I think the Board will probably see me in a fortnight and not a week today, and that will be just before Xmas.

I am now absolutely free from jaundice and dysentery , and out of all danger, but , of course. I am little more than a skeleton as I have had practically no food for a month. They are beginning to feed me up on all the most strengthening foods possible and they will give me more each day, as they want me to be on my legs if possible for a day or two before we go- just for an hour in the afternoon. Of course if my temperature rises I shall have to go back to my slops and wait some weeks longer.

I am longing to get away from this place. I am thoroughly tired of bed and I am in a bed with a broken back which has collapsed in the middle. There is not another as the hospital is always full. They are hopelessly short of nurses and

orderlies and there is only half enough crockery to go round. They bring you something to eat or drink and impatiently watch you drink and directly you have finished, they snatch up your things, wash them and take them off to some other patient who has been patiently waiting. Nearly half the staff have caught enteric fever and gone home, but the remainder are very cheerful and do their best in spite of the difficulties. Their one thought is to get rid of you as soon as they think it is safe for you to travel, out you go. They tell you the hospital is only a clearing hospital and they only keep people who are dangerously ill. Personally I am very glad indeed, as there is all the more chance of my getting away early and I should hate to stay here during convalescence.

I may be in England again before the year is out. I am longing to see you and Dad again, but I don’t think for one moment that you will be able to see me while I am in hospital in England as this enteric fever is very infectious. I shall, of course, go to an enteric hospital where it is almost certain no visitors will be allowed. But I expect I will be fit to travel home after aweek or a fortnight as the sea journey back to England is certain to do me a lot of good. With very best wishes to you all for Xmas.

Your loving son Jack

PS I do not know how you get my letters. There is apparently one regular mail a week on Monday and one irregularly, which if it goes at all goes on Thursday or Friday. I have had no letters from you yet.

Letter no 10

19th December 1915

St Andrew’s Hospital, Malta

My dear Mother

I hear that they are at last putting me down as a stretcher case for the next hospital ship sailing for England. That means that I may start any day during the next ten days. I think, judging by the times that letters usually take, that I shall be in England before you get this letter. My temperature has been more or less behaving itself; it is now usually a long way below normal, but it sometimes goes up to a hundred in the evenings. I have been up on four days- staying up for tea and staying up longer and longer each day. I already feel much stronger and better and after the voyage home, I ought to be quite strong again. I trust I shall not have to stay in hospital or a convalescent home in England for more than a few days, but you can never tell how long they will keep you, as they are always very careful of enteric cases.

I have at last had two letters from you. I wonder how many letters of yours have been lost and how many of mine have never arrived. I have never had any parcel of any description and what is more , I don’t expect ever to see them. I am extremely grateful to Mrs Ridley for the things she sent out, the sleeping bag and blankets and helmet. As a matter of fact I have them all and I don’t know what I should have done with hers. If they had ever arrived, which is very unlikely, I should have had to have given them away, as we can only take about with us what we can carry.

I am most awfully anxious about Anzac and Suvla. The condition get worse every day and men are brought in here in large numbers with frost bite and any amount have been drowned in their trenches. I don’t know whether I told you in my letters that practically everyone has bad diarrhoea, which often develops into dysentery and the soldiers with it are so weak that many of them can hardly stand. It is quite pitiable to see some of the battalions going up to the trenches. Men are frequently falling and they cannot get up again until two of their pals come along and pull them onto their feet again.

Before I came away, the Germans had got their ammunition and big guns down and they had started pounding our lines with 12 inch howitzers; much bigger guns than anything we have got. Just to our right they concentrated their fire on one of the Australian posts called Lone Pine, and their were 300 casualties in an hour and a half. If the Turks only knew how weakly our line is held they could easily drive us into the sea. I think myself they will have to give up the campaign and evacuate the Peninsular. Even if we do that, we shall lose quantities of men and guns and, of course, all stores. The last two or three thousand men who will be fighting a rearguard action to hold back the Turks, while the rest get away in transports, will, of course, never be able to get off alive. If they don’t evacuate and don’t send any more troops, we shall have a very big disaster there, as the Turks are bound to find out sooner or later how weak we are.

I am afraid you will think I am rather pessimistic, but I am only pessimistic about Gallipoli. I think the war as a whole is going right enough. I believe if Greece remains all right we can get large numbers of troops to Salonika. We should be able to strangle aa Germany’s Indian and Egyptian designs by cutting their railway in Bulgaria or Serbia. Edward is, I think, almost certain to go to Salonika and I am expecting to go there myself when I return as the probabilities are that they will want cavalry if the fighting is to be in Bulgaria.

The submarines are very active round here and round Lemnos. They are apparently growing in numbers rather than decreasing. Our losses in ships never seem to get into the English papers and nor does theirs. It has been discovered that many of their submarines have been towed out, submerged by neutral merchant vessels. I shall not write any more as quite possibly I shall be home as soon as this letter.

From your loving son Jack

Letter no 11

Jan 2nd 1916

3rd Northern General Hospital, Collegiate Hall, Sheffield

Add caption

My dear Mother

I was very glad to get your letter and Dad’s this morning, and to hear that you have got Edward at home for a bit. I was hoping very much that I should be able to see him before he leaves, and it is just possible that I may be able to get home tomorrow or Tuesday, on the strength of not having seen him for so long, and this being the last opportunity before he goes.

If I do get home it will only be for one or two nights, and then I shall have to return. I was very much disappointed with the doctor’s examination. At Malta, I had two very mild attacks of gastritis, and I thought I had escaped it. On board ship I kept it under by frequent doses of aperients, but they won’t allow me to use large quantities here with the result that I had rather a bad attack yesterday. The doctor of this part of the hospital sent for the Colonel of the whole hospital and told me I should have to stay here some time as my stomach is so very weak. I swell to a most unpleasant size and I had hot fermentations all night. I shall have to be anyway two or three weeks here.

I was hoping to get boarded (seen by the Medical Authorities) in a day or two, in which case I intended to say little and get home if possible, as I thought I would get right there just as quick with the help of Doctor King. Now I have been caught in this way by the Colonel, who is head of the Board, my chance of escape is gone. There is nothing organically wrong; I apparently only need a long rest and careful feeding. Curiously enough instead of starving you as they do for enteric, they are stuffing me with more food than I want.

This place is a wonderful change after Malta. We could not possibly be better cared for and looked after than we are here and I am very comfortable indeed. They let me get up so I am getting strong again on my legs and I managed this morning to get to a late celebration, that being the first time I have been inside a church since I left England.

I want to get home as soon as I can, whether Edward has gone or not, so please don’t telegraph, if he will not be there, as you will then leave me no official excuse for getting away.

I see on reading my letter that I have only written about myself, but I have written in the past as if I should be only here for a day or so. I thought that if they won’t let me go home tomorrow or Tuesday and kept me some weeks you might think I was much worse than I am. I am really quite as well as can be expected after a sharp bout of enteric as it always does leave one very weak in the stomach.

Edward I suppose goes to Salonika. When I rejoin my regiment I may see him, as the Cavalry may be used to try to cut the line in Bulgaria and join with the Russians. There will be a great effort made this summer, as if we get across, the Germans will be shut in all round and Egypt and India will then be safe.

I have been wondering whether you have any returned letters of mine from Gallipoli. Hoping to see you tomorrow or Tuesday.

Your loving son, Jack

PS I was given the official card to send to you yesterday morning. I suppose you got it all right.

Letter no 12

Jan 9th 1916

3rd Northern General Hospital, Collegiate Hall, Sheffield

My dear Mother

I was so sorry to let your birthday slip by without writing to you. I hope you did not have such a wretched day as we had here; incessant rain and snow.

We had Zeppelins within 6 miles of us, but none actually reached the city. All gas and electric light was cut off and the city was in almost complete darkness so they would have had difficulty in finding it. There are also innumerable works around here, but chiefly about a mile or two out of the city on the opposite side to the hospital. There are always furnaces going on there and the Zeppelins will probably go there if they ever get here.

For the last three days I have been up and I have been by car over the Derbyshire moors which lie within three miles of Sheffield. I went to two villages which had been bombed by the Zeppelins. Not much damage done and one man only was killed.

The Bishop sends his car down for me when he does not want it himself and I think he is going to send it down every morning this week. It is very nice

getting out this way as I cannot, of course, walk much yet. I am expecting to get home and it is just possible I may be back this week end, but all the muscles of my stomach are so weak that I have to have special treatment to strengthen them. I have not yet asked why they will not let me go, but I am feeling so much better in myself that I do not think they will keep me more than another week.

The Bishop and Archdeacon Gresford Jones would both put you and Dad up for the night if you are thinking of going to the York Convocation if I am still here. Will you thank Dad for his letter and tell him that those orders are now void, as I have not been discharged from here yet.

Your loving son Jack

(written in a very shaky handwriting)

Letter no 13

Jan 18th 1916

3rd Northern General Hospital, Collegiate Hall, Sheffield

Dear Mother

My operation took place Thursday morning 9.45. It proved to be very necessary indeed as I have been most fortunate to have escaped while I was walking about. There were innumerable adhesions, and not one as I had expected, and certain organs were very much misplaced.

I had a wretched night last night, but I am feeling rather better today. I have had considerably more pain over this than over any other operation.

Your loving son Jack

P.S. The doctor was very pleased with me today.

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank  Peter J Blencowe who provided all the letters to me to post on the internet . Peter went to Gallipoli in 2013 with his son Charlie to visit the sites and trace his fathers footsteps. Charlie took this photograph of Peter at Walkers Landing.

Peter wrote of the trip ”

After my father died in 1966, I discovered a packet of letters that he had written to his mother dated between 1915 and 1918. Like many others he never spoke about his time in World War 1 though I vaguely knew he had been a chaplain in Gallipoli, and had sailed out in the ‘Olympic’, a sister ship of the ill fated ‘Titanic’, which had been converted into a troopship. I also knew that he had been invalided out from there with enteric fever to Malta, and eventually was appointed Chaplain to the 2^nd Battalion, The Devonshire Regt , who were engaged at the Battle of the Somme in 1916. How I now wish I had been interested enough to get him to talk about those days !

My elder son, Charlie, and I had already been to the Battlefields of Flanders to try and discover the exact spot where he wrote these letters, but not till June 2014, had we been to Gallipoli. Armed with the letters written to his mother, (now published privately in a booklet entitled ‘Letters Home’ )and other documents including my father’s original map, we flew to Istanbul, visiting Troy en route. For me this was something of a pilgrimage, coming just 99 years after my father landed with the Suffolk Yeomanry at Walker’s Pier which is situated off the northern part of the ANZAC beaches. The night before our tour of the Gallipoli battlefields, I was able to spend an hour with our Turkish guide, Hasan, who took the letters away to read, and, in the early hours of the morning, drew out a plan for us to visit the area where my father spent 5 weeks or so in trenches, within a few yards of the Turkish defences. For those who know Gallipoli this was towards Aghyl Dere in the battle to take Hill 60 between the bridgeheads at ANZAC Cove and Suvla Bay. A hundred years ago it was open, barren land but today is thickly wooded and not an area which is usually visited by tourists. Knowing I was treading the paths that my father had walked over 99 years ago as a young chaplain, hardly trained for warfare, was an emotional experience.

Hasan also drove us to the Helles Peninsula, to see the beaches where the British 29^th Division landed on the morning of April 25^th 1915 , with terrible loss of life, then on to climb Achi Baba overlooking Krithia, which was never taken by the British and in the afternoon, in company with a group of young Australians, we explored the beaches further north where Australian and New Zealand troops landed on that same day. On the hills above we saw the Ottoman and Australian Trenches, where so many from both sides were killed as the Allies fought to get control of Chunuk Blair from which height you can see both the Dardanelles and the Aegean Sea. This was the key to the success of the whole campaign, but was never achieved by the Allies in spite of the charge of the Australian Light Horse at the Nek, featured in the film ‘Gallipoli'”

The Letters of Jack Blencowe were published in a book ‘Letters Home – Jack Blencowe 1909 – 18’ in 2006 by Peter J Blencowe.

Jack Blencowe died in 1964.

APPENDICES

A 1st SUFFOLK YEOMANRY

(THE DUKE OF YORK’S OWN LOYAL SUFFOLK HUSSARS)

Extract from “ British Regiments in Gallipoli by Ray Westlake

(ISBN 0 85052 511)

SEPTEMBER

Leiston, Suffolk. Part of Eastern Mounted Brigade, lst Mounted Division.

With Brigade left Division and to Liverpool (23rd). Embarked Olympic and sailed (25th) for Lemnos. Officers – Lieutenant-Colonel F.W. Jarvis (Commanding); Majors Hon. W.E. Guinness, J.W.R. Tomkin, F. Goldsmith, C.E. Pym; Captains Viscount Duncannon (Adjutant), E.A. Greene, T. de la G. Grissell, Hon. E.C.G. Cadogan, Lieutenants G.P. Barker, R.O.W. Pemberton, H. Musker, E.C.M. Flint, J.F. Crisp, G.R. Arbuthnot-Leslie; Second-Lieutenants C.B.A. Jackson, R.E. Eversden, A.C. McKelvie, D.E. Ginn, G.B. Horne, A.L. Martin-Linnington, R.P. Woodhouse, E.W. Tuttle (Quartermaster). Rev. J.W. Blencowe (Chaplain); Captain Taylor (R.A.M.C., Medical Officer).

OCTOBER

Arrived Mudros (1st) and remained on board. Sailed Abassieh for Anzac (8th). Unable to land due to weather conditions and put back to Imbros. Landed Walker’s Pier (10th) then to dug-outs at New Bedford Road. Attached to 54th (East Anglian) Division and began tours of duty in front line – Sandbag Ridge area. To New Bedford Road (21st). Relieved 1/5th Bedfordshire and 1/ll th London in front line – Aghyle Dere area (26th). Relieved by 1/5th Norfolk and 1/11 th London (31st) and to New Bedford Road.

NOVEMBER

To trenches left of Hill 60 crossing Kaiajik Dere (5th). Major Hon W.E. Guinness records (6th) how Captain Hon. E.C.G. Cadogan had received slight injuries to his face when a Turkish sniper hit the officer’s periscope. He also notes the use of a new catapult that had been manufactured by Harrods (see Staff Officer- The Diaries of Lord Moyne 1914-1918). High casualties from sickness recorded. Relieved by 1/11th London and to rest camp (10th).

Returned to front line (15th). Major Guinness records Turkish deserters coming in from their unit on Sandbag Ridge. They reported that one of the bombs fired from the catapult had hit one man on the head and that the Turks were looking forward to “annihilating” the British when guns and shells promised by the Germans arrived. Enemy noted improving their position and putting out wire at rear of Smythe’s spur. Major Guinness records the chance death of Private H.W. Day (16th), the case of a shell fired from an aeroplane coming through the roof of a dug out, hitting him between the shoulder blades and killing him instantly. ‘A’ squadron dug out in Aghyl Dere flooded (18th) – water knee deep. Reliever (20th). To front line (25th).

DECEMBER

First party evacuated to Mudros (14th). Remainder followed during the night (19th ).

Appendix B Staff Officer Suffolk Yeomanry

(ISBN 0-85052-053-3) pub Leo Cooper

Information obtained from a visit to the Imperial War Museum Reading Room September 2004

By Walter Guinness (later Lord Moyne)

W.G. was 2nd in command at Woodbridge. ‘ More volunteers than I could take’ Refers to ‘Mischievous chaplain’ Rev Ernest Powles

July 1915 Woodbridge - Leiston

September 23 1915 To Liverpool ‘ Olympic’ ( sistership of Titanic) 5000 troops on board, including large numbers of the House of Lords and members of the Commons.

German sub encountered off Gibraltar.

3rd-4th October arrived Mudros ( could hear shelling at Gallipoli.

13th October Walker Pier (Anzac) marched to Bedford Gully. Attached to 54th (East Anglian) Div. noted ‘Blencowe’ new Chaplain

Page 40 October 16th “ At last, having got my kit up from the beach, I moved up to join the regiment in the gully just west of the

Brighton Rd trenches. Jarvis and Grissell (who had succeeded Duncannon as Adjutant) had been sharing a little shelter built of reserve ration boxes, and we spent the afternoon in extending it to accommodate our larger men, which now consisted of Blencowe, the new chaplain, Musker, the Signal officer, and our three selves ( Self, Jarvis and Grissell )”.

16th Nov He writes about death and burial of his batman , Harry Day’.

20th December Regiment evacuated from Suvla

Other reading ‘ Some Chaplains in Kharki’ F.C. Spurr.

Appendix D

An account of conditions in Gallipoli by a fellow officer.

The ANZAC Home -and a contrast

Typical hillside dug outs.

I am sitting, at the moment of writing, in a dug-out, one of those dismal, dark, damp holes cut into the clay of the Dardanelles, serving us as a haven of refuge by day and by night from the ubiquitous Turkish bullet.

The proportions of this extemporized dwelling resemble those of an exceedingly small family tomb – one which might to belong to a family too proud not f,) possess a family tomb at all, but too poor to possess one of adequate size and comfort (if one can speak of comfort in such a connection). It’s dimensions be about ten feet by four, but I am not enthusiastic enough at the moment to ascertain them precisely. It’s three walls are of crumbling clay. Where the fourth wall strictly should be is an exit which lets in the draught.

Over my head are stretched waterproof sheets which let in the water. On the floor, in fine weather, is an inch of dust, and in bad weather a proportionate amount of slimy mud. A few sandbags ranged round the parapet threaten to tumble in and annihilate my existence. I am sitting on a roll of bedding. My haversack, water-bottle, field glasses, webbing, pistol, gas helmet and india-rubber basin are arranged round my feet like so many pet dogs begging for biscuit; and in such an entourage I think of my room at home – and that is where this matter of contrast comes in.

It was the same at dinner. We, that is to say, my brother officers and I – sat in another variety of dug-out; this time an open one-open to all that blows and falls. Our repast consisted of an exceedingly stringy rabbit, extracted from a tin of an ominous purple hue – an evil-looking dish eked out with somebody or other’s baked beans, which are all very well in their way, but when used as an unvarying vegetable at all meals begin to pall; bread with the crust like a cinder, to which fondly cling bits of sacking and mules’ whisker; the corpse of a cheese ; and the whole washed down with tea made in the stew dixie, and tasting more of dixie and stew than of tea.

As I lean back against the clay wall of my dug-out, and innumerable particles of dust cascade down my neck, a soft reverie steals over my senses. It seems to me to be about six or seven o’clock on a murky November afternoon in London. I have splashed home from my work in the wind- and rain-swept streets – the motor-buses have covered me with black mud-my umbrella has afforded Die the most inadequate shelter.

But these things seem of little account to me here in Gallipoli. I see myself reaching my home in the best of spirits, entering the hall, and shutting off the outer darkness. My sense of contrast gives me a lively notion of dry clothes, of a comfortable room, of a genial fire, and of an absorbing book. In future I shall be grateful for the rain and the mud and the murky streets for making these good things seem by contrast so much more valuable.

Think of it! To sink into a great arm-chair in front of my library fire, after a hard and anxious day’s work, and contemplate the near approach of an excellent evening meal. How comfortable and warm -and hospitable my room appears as I lean back and listen to the rather depressing, smothered rumble of the traffic in the street below. Thick curtains bide away the melancholy November London atmosphere. Sweet-smelling logs crackle cheerily on the hearth: a reading lamp by my side sheds subdued lustre on the immediate vicinity of my chair. My servant glides into the room noiselessly over the soft carpet, and places the evening paper by my side. I choose a cigar from my case, light it, and then I am perfectly content-and my contentment is due to contrast between my content with the existing situation and my past discontent with other situations at other times and in other places.

After a refreshing siesta I go upstairs, exchange my workaday clothes for a smoking-suit. Two or three bachelor friends are due to dine with me, and by the time I have dressed and descended again to the sitting-room they are there ready for my greeting,

And what a pleasant evening it is with their company. We talk of old times, old acquaintances, and old places. We talk of our big-game shoots, of our campaigns, and of our travels, the recollection of which seem so delightful now that distance lends enchantment to the view. Dinner is over; a glass of brandy and old port, some smokes, and we are just adjourning to the next room- “Wake up, old chap-three o’clock. Your turn for the trenches. It is snowing hard and the Turks are very active.”

Contrasts indeed!

Captain E. CADOGAN, 1/1 Suffolk Yeomanry.