The Dardanelles Conspiracy by Alan Bardos (you can read anyone txt) 📕

that order. It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d used a bayonet. He just hoped that he’d have enough puff to take him up the cliff in one sprint. If he stopped he doubted he’d be able to carry on.

Johnny ran through the enemy fire to the bottom of the cliff. He saw that a few other stragglers had joined his group and began to lead them up. The first part of the track wasn’t particularly steep but with the rifle it was a job. He followed it through a zig zag of sandstone and grass, while bullets smash the rock around him. He heard men falling but he managed to keep pulling himself forward.

He reached the sheer face of the cliff, stopped to sling his rifle and work out what to do next. The cries of the wounded echoed off the cliff, unnerving him. He looked down and saw men crawling through the sand, leaving dark bloody trails.

He clung to the side of the cliff, ignoring the hum and zing of bullets. All he could think of was the days and nights he’d spent on the Ypres salient listening to the screams of his men.

‘Come on, over the top, lad. You’re nearly there,’ Bromley shouted from somewhere behind him. Johnny knew there was only one way he could get away from the screams. He started to fumble, finding foot and hand holds, he dragged himself up the last few yards of the precipice. He grabbed hold of a bush on the top of the cliff and rolled over the edge into the grass and flowers of the cliff’s crest.

He saw some Turks disappear into a trench about fifty yards away. Johnny looked over the side of the cliff and saw Williams struggling to find his footing.

Johnny unslung his rifle and fell into an empty foxhole. He tried to control his shaking. He could hear the enemy shouting and knew he was in a distinctly vulnerable position. He forced himself to look over the top. The Turks had regrouped and were charging towards him. He picked up his rifle and tried desperately to force the bolt down, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he stamped on it.

Johnny stood up he had to meet the charge. He had to buy time for the rest of the men to climb up the cliff. They’d be sitting ducks when the Turks arrived and it would be his fault for freezing.

Johnny began to run towards the Turks then fell to the ground as two shots rang out in rapid succession from behind him, two of the Turks fell. Taking fire from an unexpected quarter broke their charge and the Turks retreated into the trench overlooking W beach.

Franklin, the Brigade Major, was standing a few yards away at the front of the cliff holding a rifle. Johnny could see a battleship behind him pointing its guns towards them, while men from the second wave climbed over the edge of the cliff, urged on by Hare. Franklin handed the rifle to one of his men and pointed towards the Turks, shouting, ‘Splendid show, after them man. We’ve got them on the run.’

The roar of naval shells sounded overhead and Johnny watched them explode around the enemy trench.

‘Are you alright, sir?’ Williams asked, kneeling down next to him. The rest of the Fusiliers in Johnny’s group were finding their way to the crest.

‘Come on,’ Johnny got up and ran towards the enemy trench, more naval shells landed as they went forward, covering their advance.

He sprinted the fifty yards and jumped into the trench, landing squarely on his feet. A Turk in a conical helmet thrust his rifle at Johnny. He parried the blow and felt its force jar his shoulder. The Turk rushed him and forced Johnny back against the side of the trench, locking their rifles together. He could see the void of death in his eyes and smell raki on his breath. There was a notch on his front tooth from a pipe, which abruptly smashed as the butt of a Lee–Enfield rifle hit the man in the face.

The Turk staggered back and went down under another blow from William’s rifle. Johnny ran through the trench, quickly becoming disoriented as he followed one sharp bend after another of the traverse. His head spinning, he came round the blind side of a bend and ran into an officer directing the fire of two men.

The officer began to raise a Mauser pistol. Johnny stabbed his bayonet into the man’s chest. The blade crunched through bone, bringing the officer down. Johnny heard him groan and tried to pull his bayonet free, but it had stuck in his ribs.

Johnny put his boot on the man’s chest and felt the ribs crack as he struggled to free it. One of the Turks turned away from the beach to reload, saw Johnny and swung his rifle at him in a great arc. Johnny put his arms up to protect himself. A loud bang exploded in his ear and the man flew back, a bloody hole where his face had been. A second bang brought the other man down.

Franklin was standing behind him with his revolver in hand. Deafened by the noise Johnny nodded his thanks, that was the second time he’d saved him, and realised that he had his own Webley revolver. It was still in its holster. He'd gone through the whole action without firing it.

Johnny saw lines of Lancashires were already moving forward towards Hill 114 and turned to look for the men he’d been leading. He found Williams leaning over the side of the trench.

'Dear God, did we just do that?' Williams said as men on the far side of the beach scrambled wildly up the cliff opposite them.

'I say, you.’ Brigadier General Hare was looking down at them from the edge of the trench.