Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

Western Mail (Perth), 4 May 1917, p42
HOW SANDY MACPHEE OUT FLANKED THE TURKISH ARMY.
A TRUE INCIDENT OF GALLIPOLI.
By Wallace McL
Some weeks before the evacuation, of the Dardanelles it was decided to make a demonstration along the coast. The detachment was dispatched in a flotilla of boats.
They executed the movement, raised a bit of Cain, finally withdrawing to their boats in good order.

Boat after boat filled and drew off till at last but one was left. Apparently they had either overestimated its carrying capacity or underestimated the weight of its human cargo. Be that as it may, before all hands had embarked, it was evident that if all went on board the gunwale would be about awash. Sandy MacPhee was in the last line. He was a splendid specimen of Australian manhood, standing over six feet. He was a finely proportioned man, and his 15 stone weight contained but very little surplus adipose matter, it was all solid sinew, bone, and muscle. Often walking through Perth streets with him, I have seen strangers turn and look after him, and have, caught the remark, "What a very fine man." Years knocking about in the Nor'-West as pastoralist, pearler, prospector, drover, and other hundred and one things which constituted a back-blocker's life, gave him a self-reliant and free carriage. His open, jovial face, under its usual merry, laughing look, had lines indicating dogged determination no doubt transmitted through long lines of dour Hieland forbears. He was a goodly man to look upon and one calculated to inspire confidence in his fellows.

A fine rider, boxer, and all-round athlete, he was a typical Australian bushman; Thoroughly conversant with the wiles of the aboriginal, he was able to adopt their cunning methods to his own advantage, when in need. Looking at the boat, and also taking stock, of the bit of a goggle of the sea's surface, Sandy remarked, "I came here to take the chance of 'stopping one' but not the d-d certainty of being drowned; I'm not going in that hanged old hooker. It is only a few miles across. I'll risk overlanding it first.''

Four other adventurous spirits elected to throw in their lot with Sandy. They started off totally neglectful of the fact that the movement having been along the coast in the rear of the Turkish main lines, they had accepted the task, of first passing through and eluding the Turks, and then to persuade the Australian sentries that they were friends, if they had to put in a fast final flutter for home. Nothing daunted the daring band fade away into the scrub to avoid observation at the outlet of their perilous essay. How they escaped being seen and intercepted at the very first stage is a mystery. Naturally they struck inland, trusting to the rugged nature of the country to assist them in dodging the enemy's eyes. Luck stands to them and they made quite decent progress on their way, without interruption. Hurrying along, for it was getting late, they ran butt into an isolated band of Turks, some 30 or so strong. The Turks are bivouacked, preparing their evening meal.

Leader Sandy remarked, "Won't do to leave those beggars behind us they might spot us when we get along up above them, and we'll be between two fires. We'll have to rouse them out of this." So the intrepid band sneak, in open order, to give an impression of numbers, and open a steady and deadly fusillade on the enemy, who, reckoning that they were being attacked by the whole Australian corps, dropped everything and fled for their lives, never stopping to look behind. Five magazine rifles worked up to concert pitch create a fair clatter. It was nothing however to what it set going. The report of heavy rifle firing away in the rear of the Turkish forces stirred up the whole Peninsula. It was as bad as upsetting a whole colony of beehives. Everybody dashed buzzing to quarters, and during the next half hour more ammunition was expended than had been used for weeks before. The heavy artillery roared and boomed, shells of every description wailed, shrieked, and squealed through the air, machine guns rattled, and rifles crackled - all along the long extended fronts.

The survivors of the ill-fated crowd that had been dispersed, when they arrived at the Turkish outposts, reported that they had been attacked by a whole division of those accursed Australian devils. That the whole country side was swarming with the yelling fiends. That they were outnumbered and had had to retreat, losing half their number. Hastily sand bags were tossed round to afford some protection against an attack from the rear. Fresh trenches were excavated with feverish eagerness. Guns swung round ready to repel the mysterious avalanche coming from nobody knew where.

The Australian lines, not to be outdone by the Turk, replied briskly to the cannonade, intensifying the pandemonium. When the row started Sandy, and his pards were highly amused; "We've stirred them up at any rate. It is like poking a stick into bulldog ants' nest. By Jove they are hopping around some. Hope we haven't cruelled our chance of sneaking through the beggars ; they will be on the lookout for something." Shortly after this, the approximate locality of the firing having been judged shot and shell started crashing through the scrub in their vicinity. Scouting detachments were being thrown out from the back lines to locate and ascertain if possible the strength of the attacking force. Heavier bodies of troops were despatched behind this screen to, if necessary, seize and hold points of vantage.

Everything was in a hubbub. The seriousness of the position dawned upon the reckless crew. Says Sandy, "there seems only one way of dodging the beggars- We'll have to take to that creek and run it up. If any of these patrols strike us we'll have to give them ducks for it. You've seen a wounded duck "lie under the water close under the bank or near a log, with nothing above the surface but his bill. Well, that's what we'll have to do if they get too close, lie under the water with nothing showing but our blooming becos and as little of them as possible. Now you know if I whisper ducks what I mean. Everything underneath."

With these instructions they leave the comb they had been following and scurry down for the creek. Fortunately it is fairly deep cut, with a good sprinkling of scrub, along the, banks. Once into it they are well protected from observation except at close quarters. They take full advantage of the cover. A loud purring end whirr overhead warns them that the enemy have sent out an aeroplane to prospect round for the intruders. They crouch close to the bank under some overhanging bushes until the aerial foeman fades into the dim distance. Whilst snuggled closely together they discuss the position. As recognised leader, Sandy lays down the law.

"You can see yourselves, boys, we're in a very tight corner. We must hang together as much as we can, hut all must clearly understand, that if any one of us gets knocked out good, he must not expect the whole boiling of us to go under carting him along. Matters are pretty multy, we can't take any risks. If I get laid out, boys, stick to this creek, it will land you pretty well right into our own lines. Understand, boys, that if we go out it is for the full ten. There is no fun about it."

They shook hands all round. Off they went up the creek, in some places stumbling or slipping over stones and boulders, in others ploughing through mud, ooze and quicksand. Striding along erect where the creek banks were high or thickly clad with trees or scrub, crouching and crawling close to the bank where the cover was scanty. All the time on the qui vive for the noise of a falling stone or the clink of accoutrements to betray the approach of the foeman scout.

At last the expected crisis came. Distinctly could be heard, the tramp of a body of men, this to a point where the side cover was rather scant. "Hist !" whispered Sandy, and as the tread was getting very close, "Ducks." Suiting his action to his words, down he went on his back, submerging himself, rifle and all, until the only part of him protruding out of the water was his nose. In like manner all his mates disappear. They all hugged the bank as closely as possible, trusting to the shadows to assist in concealing them.

Tramp, tramp, resounded the feet, coming closer and closer. Presently rang out the order to halt. The deep gutteral tone of the voice indicated clearly the nationality of the officer in charge. He walked right in on to the edge of the bank, pulled out his field glasses, and most carefully scanned the reaches and banks of the creek up and down. Nothing was visible.

Fortunately he did not look closely, downwards, where almost at his very feet lay the accursed quarry. Their closeness saved them. Muttering a deep oath embracing the whole of the British race, with an extra comprehensive corollary specially designed to express the speaker's appreciation of the pesky Australian, he strode back to his contingent, which then marched on. Little did his German high and mightiness imagine that the brown muddy stream, could effectually conceal from his scrutiny, within a few feet of him, five lean forms with rifles and accoutrements complete.

I know not if any of the submerged ones murmured Horatius' invocation,
O Tiber, Father Tiber, to whom the Romans Pray,
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day.
Whether they prayed or not, that little Turkish stream stood a faithful friend to them in their extremity, a silent custodian of the secret that beneath its waters lay armed men ready, if detected, to spring out and die fighting grimly.

Captain McLaggan, on the memorable day of the landing at the crest of the hill, when the reinforced Turks were advancing in heavy masses to the attack of the then scattered line of khaki clad lads, seasoned veterans pitted against entire novices at the game of real warfare, the captain enunciated the first Australian fighting axiom :
"Australians must not give one inch."
This axiom, which constant use in solving the stiff problems set before them for solution during the Gallipoli occupation, has become as accepted by the Australians as any of those laid down by Euclid. Down that thin line rang out clear and commanding the terse order "Australians must not give one inch.'' That order deserves to be preserved, immortal as much as Nelson's famous signal, "England expects this day each man to do his duty." That order and the glorious faithful execution of it by those raw lads, saved the British arms from a dire and dread disaster. One that would have staggered the Empire. Had the Turks forced them back and secured that commanding crest the result must have been appalling.

"Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted" would have had a reproduction in Australian homes. How those untried levies held that ridge, how they shot till their rifle barrels were hot as red hot bars, till the wooden casings fairly smoked with their heat is well known pumped lead into the advancing Turks with the cool-precision of a fire brigade drenching a conflagration, until the masses could not stand it any longer, and finally broke, and by the deadly accuracy of their aim held them back, never allowing them to again mass into heavy bodies. The Australians were able to excavate some trenches, and the situation was saved for good and all.

Hail! McLaggan, enunciator of Australia's first battle axiom. How loyally the lads have accepted it, and acted up to it the lone scattered mounds at Anzac tell. Let never a tear their ashes stain. Give their memory never a sigh. Some of the many who've perished, but not in vain, as a tpye of our chivalry. I have digressed from my original tale, so must hark back. They were a sorry-looking , lot of forms, that arose out of the ooze at the bottom of that stream. Like the alligator they had fairly burrowed into it, and now they wanted to leave it if did not seem at ail anxious to leave them, but tenaciously hung on to their clothing in lumps. Drenched to the skin and chilled to the bone, still each face wore a grim grin of satisfaction that the German, had been outwitted. "Well slip along to where there's better shelter, wash off this mud and give our duds a wring. Thank the Lord we've not too much on. We may be thankful that old saur-kraut came to look himself, instead of sending one of those smart, mountaineer Jackos, who might have spotted us. If we had been spotted, I meant to have surrendered first thing; it is possible to treat with a Turk, but a German, Faugh !"

On they pursue their slopply way until they strike a bit of a nook, almost closed in with encircling bushes; here they strip, relieve themselves of the encumbering mud and wring their clothes as dry as possible. Proceed feeling more comfortable. Shortly after this the most serious incident of the trip occurred. Making a smart dash to cross a reach where the shelter was not good, they all plunged into a very deep treacherous quicksand. Floundering through, some on their stomachs, half swimming, half crawling, some on their backs propelling themselves, using the butt of their rifles as a paddle : each fully engrossed in saving himself, at last sound ground is struck. Heads are at once counted, one is missing, they anxiously look back, but nothing is visible. He must have struck a deeper, softer and more tenacious spot and had gone down silent so as not to distract or fluster his mates in their hard-struggle for life. Rest his soul, gallant lad.

The reduced, and saddened band push on up the branch watercourse that seems to bear most directly towards their goal. In manner, that scarcely appears credible, they worm their path through first of all the specially posted outposts stationed to give notice or the expected rear attack. Full many a time had they lain flat, scarcely daring to breathe when the curiosity of some Turkish sentry had been aroused by a slight jingle of some of their metallic fixings against a stone or some other hard substance.

More than once the searcher almost stumbled over them, but luck stood. Aided by the rugged nature of the ground, coupled to the Turk's knowledge of the practical impossibility of any important attack being made at this particular point, owing to its extreme roughness, they managed to proceed. Sandy was tactician enough to select this part as the most suitable for breaking through, which at last they succeeded in doing; They cleared the Turkish line, but they were now between the devil and the deep sea. A false movement might bring upon them the concentrated fire of both lines with unpleasant results. Cannily crawling down the incline after clearing the Turkish trenches they reach the cover of a small gully about midway. Stretching out flat on its bottom they enjoy the luxury of, a few really long breaths. An immense relief after a spell of some hours during which one scarcely dared breathe. The best means of attracting the notice of the Australians were discussed in low whispers. They did not wish to arouse the inquisitiveness of the Turk, and wanted to put the boys fly. One said, "I'am pretty good on the moopoke note. That ought to give the boys the tip. I don't think the real thing is about here." Presently might be heard the plaintive hoot, "moopoke, moopoke." They waited a few minutes, anxiously scanning the sky line both ways to see if they could detect any movement on either side, then the note was repeated.

They listened with ears at the alert for some response from the Australian trenches. At last they were gratified. ''Moopoke, moopoke" came back, followed a few seconds after by a very low "coo-ee," then a whistle, "It's all right, boys,", said Sandy, they've jerried to us; They have tumbled to the game, so let us get along."

Carefully crawling up the incline they reach the trenches, are greeted with a low
"Halt!" Answer, "Friends."
"Bundle over quick and quiet as you can. Bundle over smart, will you." Fifty willing hands were available to assist them over the sand-bag barricade, for all hands who could get there were ready to welcome the wanderers.

It had been reported that it was possible some stragglers who had been missed might fossick their way through at some point or other, so the word was passed along the line to look out for them, and not shoot too quick. The prodigals, after having had their hands nearly wrung off, did a bit of a chew at some supper, declined point blank to gratify any interviewers until next day, rolled over and slept the sleep of the exhausted. Their rest was well earned, they had been through a strenuous time. So ended Sandy's great out-flanking movement on the Turkish army; when he attacked its rear, drove in its outposts, caused an immense expenditure of ammunition, penetrated and passed through its centre, with the loss of one man only, and he by an accident.