Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Gallipoli, 1915

Captain Hugo Throssell VC, 10th Australian Light Horse, was awarded the Victoria Cross in recognition of his gallantry at Hill 60 on 29th – 30th August 1915. He gave an account of what he saw during that time.

“Hugo Throssell's Thrilling Tale."

“OF THE FIGHT AT HILL 60, GALLIPOLI.
“HOW GEO. LEAKE AND FRANK McMAHON DIED."
“The following story of the famous fight for Hill 60, Gallipoli, was told by Lieut. Hugo Throssell, V.C., to a “Northern Advertiser” representative and published in that journal last Saturday: —

“Capt. Fry had paid me a great compliment, Chosing [sic] for himself the task of greatest danger and difficulty — the leading of the first line of “A” and “B” Squadrons against the extreme right of that portion of the Turkish trench we desired to take — he had selected me to follow him with the second line. Directly I got across I dropped into the trench. Looking up I saw Capt. Fry running up and down helping and encouraging the men regardless of his own danger. I yelled at him to jump down into the trench, and he did. I posted myself at the corner of the trench — just where it took the bend back I have already described. By looking around I could see the next five yards of trench. We were piling up sand-bags and endeavouring to make ourselves safe. The Turks did not know how much of the trench we had taken, and it was not long before they began to come back into the five yard section adjoining ours. One big Turk strolled in and stopped giving me the finest target anyone could wish for. He fell, and others came in, and we got five of them before they discovered where we were. It was a bright moonlight night, though dark in the trenches.

“Having located our position the Turks stopped in the next section but one, leaving about five yards of neutral territory. Each of the sections is about five yards long, and the bend back is about two feet. We occupied section A, section B was neutral territory, vacant excepting or the bodies of Turks, and section C was occupied by the Turks. We could not see each other, and there was no opportunity for rifle firing. We had fixed up our sand bags as well as we could, but a lot of the bags had no [illegible] to them and as we placed them in position half the sand would run out. Although we we could not see the Turks we could see the tops of their bayonets and we could see them striking matches to light their bombs. Soon the bombs began to fall in our trench and we had to pick them up before they exploded and throw them back again. That was a feature of the fighting that continued all night long. Our endeavour was to pick the bombs up quickly and hurl them back into the Turks' trench to explode there. Often there was not time for this and we just picked up the bombs and heaved them out of the trench. At times it was impossible to do even this and we had to lie flat down whilst the bomb exploded and trust to luck.

“Several brave fellows went in that way, but I was marvellously lucky. Young Leake from Keller- ii.erm was one of [the] first to go, and when Capt. Fry was killed I was left in charge. It was fairly easy to send the bombs back as long as we kept the bottom of the trench clear. All the fellows had been instructed that if they got wounded and had to clear out they must drop their equipment — rifle, ammunition tucker, water bottles, &c. — and leave them to us to use. Our practice was to put these things on top of the parapet out of the way, but when three or four fellows got hit at once we could not do this and the floor of the trench became cumbered with stuff, amongst which the bombs fell. It was a bomb falling in this way that got McMillan and killed Capt. Fry straight out. At another time I grabbed a bomb that had fallen amongst some equipment and just as I raised my arm to throw it out, my thumb caught in the equipment, and the bomb went right in amongst our fellows. I called to them to lie down, and none of them were hurt.

“On one occasion when I called for another bomb thrower young McMahon from Kellerberrrin came along. He was only 19 years of age but a fine type of young Australian. When he came along in response to my call I asked him what he was doing there. He said, “I want to be in this.” I asked him if he could throw bombs, and he said he had never tried, but would soon learn. He did not have to wait for an opportunity, and after chucking out a couple he found his tunic encumbered him and peeled off to the shirt. Then he stood there, and threw bombs all night long, until he fell in the counter attack in the the morning, of which I shall tell you later. Another boy named Sid Ferrier did equally good work, and Tommy Renton and McNee were also there right through. McNee. was wounded twice in the head and once in the hand, and was awarded the D.C.M., Renton lost his leg, and Ferrier and McMahon were killed. Those four were with me in the trench most of the time. There was only room for about seven, the trench being five yards long, 4ft. 6in. deep, with another foot of earth at the sides and about four feet wide.

“At frequent intervals word was sent up to us to be sparing with our bombs, as the supply was not unlimited, and it was expected we should have to meet a counter-attack at daylight. To prevent the Turks throwing our bombs back into our trench we timed them carefully. After lighting the fuse we counted slowly: “One, two, three,” then threw the bomb, and the Turks never had time to handle it before it exploded. During the whole long night we never got one of our bombs back, whilst we threw theirs back by the score to explode in their own trenches. This went on for hours heaving back their bombs and timeing [sic] and throwing our own. Whenever one of our men fell we sang out for another and amongst those who took a hand were Burroughs, Ladyman, Eakins, Steele, and Sergt. Henderon, [Henderson?] D.C.M., but the four I have already mentioned stuck to it all night through having the luck not to get hit, excepting McNee, who was wounded and and might have gone, but, preferred to stay.
“We were making preparation to protect ourselves against shrapnel in the morning and send down orders for timber and iron to make a shrapnel-proof cover.

We took it in turns throwing bombs and working with the pick and above. They sent us up only one piece of timber and some lattice work iron, so we rigged iron on top of the timber, stretched our overcoats on it and piled sand on top of them, making the best protection we could. Frequently we all took a spell for five or ten minutes — it almost seemed as though it was done by mutual arrangement between us and the Turks. They would throw just an odd bomb or two and we would pitch them back without bothering them with any of our own; then they would liven up again and we would be at it for all we were worth. Sid Ferrier had put his shoulder out playing cricket sometime before and during the night the shoulder gave way and he had to abandon bomb throwing.

“We were very cheerful all the time, lots of laughing and joking, and each of us had wonderful escapes. One bomb hit Ferrier on the elbow and failed to explode; a spent piece of a bomb struck me on the knee and blackened it, but without drawing blood. Several times I was hit like that, one smack on the foot causing a lot of pain, but by some strange chance I escaped any serious injury.
“It was in the very early morning — between 4 o'clock and 4.30 — that our worst trial came. The expected counter attack commenced then, and we were hopelessly out-numbered. We had started out with only 160 men and many had fallen, whilst the Turks seemed to be in unlimited numbers. We who held the section of the trench on the extreme right next to the Turks had to get our men in the next section to take down half of their sandbag barricade so that we could hop over and give up the section when things got too hot. Twice we had to do this, giving up five yards of trench each time and replacing the sandbag barricade. Early in the counter attack I got a bullet through the back of the neck and a piece of bomb through the left shoulder. Not until long after did I know that a bullet had gone through my neck; it felt just like a blow. We could see the bayonets above the Turk's trenches just as thick as they could stick. Then they crawled out of their trenches and came straight at us. In the dim light we could see them against the skyline. I passed the word to our fellows and when the first of the Turks got within ten yards we cheered and shouted, and standing up in the trenches started fireing [sic] as fast as we could. There was no thought of cover. We just blazed away until the rifles grew red hot and the chochs jammed; and then we picked up the rifles that wounded and killed men had left. Twenty yards was about our longest range, and I have no idea how many rounds we fired. I think I must have fired about a couple of hundred and when we were wondering how long we could stand against such numbers, the Turks turned and fled.

“In a few minutes they came at us again, and the same thing was repeated. We had no machine guns and had to fire away with our rifles as quickly as we could. After the second repulse they changed their tactics and came at us from front, rear, and flank as well, getting behind us — between our trench and that occupied by the New Zealanders. Someone must have said something about retiring, though I did not hear it, and all round there were angry cries of “Who said retire?”

“The hubub was awful. Every man was determined to stick to the trench, and along with the firing they were yelling and shouting like demons. The noise must have deceived the Turks as to our numbers, for they were all round us within ten yards, and if they had come on we should have been overwhelmed. Just at the critical moment, as it was getting daylight, a machine gun came across from the New Zealand line, and was quickly placed in position. It settled the Turks' third and final charge — and this trench was ours.

“Young McMahon's end was tragic but glorious. As the Turks were making one of their charges in the early morning we saw a German officer picking up clods of earth and throwing them at the Turks to urge them on to the charge. Ferrier and McMahon put their rifles up and got a sight of the German against the skyline and fired simultaneously. One or both of them got him, and of course both claimed it. McMahon said: “It has been my ambition ever since I enlisted to get a German officer, now I am satisfied.”
“He rose up to get another shot, and a bullet went clean through his head. As he fell back a Turkish bomb crushed into the trench, and exploding over him blew him to pieces.

“At about 7.30 in the morning, after the last charge had been repulsed, I went back from the trench about twenty yards to get material to fix up shrapnel proof shelters. Just as I was returning young Ferrier came out with his right arm blown to smithereens. He said: “Get the boys out of that, it is too hot altogether.” He walked about five or six yards and then sat down. There were no stretcher-bearers, but someone gave him a “tot” of rum, and he walked down to the dressing-station, 300 yards away. They took his arm off at the shoulder, and he died on the ship. I was with him most of the time and never heard him groan or complain.

“I was not feeling too bad, but Tom Kidd, from Geraldton, came up to me and said with so many dead men lying about, I should be getting septic poisoning if I did not get my wounds dressed, so I went down and got fixed up. I got some timber and iron for the shelters, and some periscopes, and returned but I suppose I looked worse than I was with my hands all splintered from bombs and my face running with blood. Everything seemed nice and quiet, so I told the boys I would go off and have a sleep. That was about 8 or 9 o'clock. Dr. Huntley had another look at me and packed me straight off to the hospital ship. I cannot describe the luxury of a bath, clean pyjamas, clean sheets and a comfortable bunk. I slept for hours and when I woke up with the beautiful face of one of those grand little Red Cross nurses bending over me.

“I would not like anyone to think that I have tried to give a complete account of what happened during that eventful night. I have just told you of the things I saw — and things that took place right round me. I have here in my pocket book a copy of an extract from a report I wrote to the commanding officer from the hospital ship at Lemnos:
“I want you Sir, to recommend Corporal Ferrier, Trooper McMahon, Private Renton and Corporal McNee for some special distinction. McMahon was killed, Ferrier had his arm amputated and died on the boat, Renton had his leg taken off at the thigh and McNee was twice wounded in the head and once in the hand. In my opinion no honour could be too high.” [1]
[1] The Eastern Recorder' (Kellerberrin, Western Australia), 12th May 1916.

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