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The Bloody First Day at Anzac Cove

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The Bloody First Day at Anzac Cove

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The Bloody First Day at Anzac Cove

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pplpodThe Bloody First Day at Anzac Cove. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.

You're listening to a podcast right now, driving, working out, walking the dog. If you're in a podcast, chances are you have something to say too. With RSS.com, starting your own podcast is free and easy. Upload an episode and we distribute it to Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and more. Track your listeners, see where they're from, and start earning from ads just like this. If you've been thinking about starting a podcast, this is your sign. Or your new podcast for free today at RSS.com. Welcome to The Deep Dive. Today we are heading back to a day that completely shattered illusions. And forged national identities. Yeah, exactly. And change the course of military history. We're looking at April 25, 1915. The landing at Anzac Cove. Right. And our grounding source for this exploration is an incredibly detailed historical article breaking down this specific First World War battle. To everyone. Our mission today is to, well, to bypass the grand sweeping myths of the era.

We're going to pull you right down into the gritty, chaotic, on the ground reality of a military plan that went completely sideways. Sideways is an understatement. We're dissecting a fascinating intersection of tactical failures, monumental assumptions, and honestly extraordinary human resilience. Yeah, we're looking at how a single day of sheer survival in a hostile landscape forged a lasting legacy for three different nations. The sources we're using today strip away all that geopolitical grandstanding. They just lay bare the mechanics of the battle. Which is what you need for this. Exactly. They show it's not just what went wrong on the beaches and cliffs of the Glippoli Peninsula. But how the soldiers on both sides reacted when meticulously crafted plans evaporated. Right. Upon contact with reality. Yes. So to really understand the stakes for you as the listener, we need to bypass the standard history textbook introduction. Let's jump straight into the Imperial War cabinet's massive strategic gamble. Right. The grand plan. It's early 1915. And the British planners in London are looking to break the broader deadlock of the war.

They want to open a new front in the Mediterranean. Their target is the Dark Nells. Yep. That narrow straight in the Ottoman Turkish Empire. And the ultimate goal is an amphibious invasion of the Glippoli Peninsula. Basically, to secure a passage for the Navy. Exactly. They want to sail right up to the Turkish capital, Constantinople, and just force an armistice boom, war over. The hubris embedded in this planning stage is staggering. I mean, they formed the Mediterranean expansionary force under General Ian Hamilton, and a key part of this invasion falls to a force of over 30,000 men. The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. Right. ANZAC, commanded by Lieutenant General William Birdwood. From the planners in London, they essentially treated this like a pristine map exercise. It's wild to read about. It really is. They operated under this bizarre assumption that the Glippoli Peninsula was sparsely defended. If it was defended at all. Right. They didn't seriously consider the possibility of heavy coordinated Turkish opposition. No. The blueprints they drew up basically mapped out an unopposed stroll up the hills.

Just seized the ridges, cut off Turkish communication lines, and have a cup of tea. Which brings us to the actual execution. Okay. Let's unpack this. The morning of April 25th, where the friction of war immediately takes over. It's the middle of the night. At 1 a.m., the British ships stop out at sea. The troops transfer into 36 wooden rowing boats. Soared by small steamers. Yeah. So I want you to imagine sitting in one of those boats in the pitch black. Terrifying. By 3.30 a.m., the larger ships stop, and the men have to row the last 50 yards in total darkness. Bad and complete silence. Exactly. They're supposed to land at a designated beach between a headland called Gabatepe and Fisherman's hut. But the currents and the darkness throw them wildly off course. Wildly. They land a full mile north at a jagged, unforgiving spot called Aribernu. Which later becomes known as Anzac Co. And that single navigational error completely altered the terrain they faced. And by extension, the entire nature of the battle. Right.

The planners expected an open, relatively flat beach, a place where they could easily organize battalions in March, inland. Instead, as the sun begins to rise, the Anzac forces find themselves staring up at nearly vertical cliffs. 300-foot steep cliffs. And these cliffs aren't just bare rock. They are covered in thick, impenetrable, burst scrub. It is an absolute nightmare terrain for an amphibious assault. But and here's what's fascinating from the sources. There's an incredible paradox regarding that navigational mistake. Missing their target was a logistical disaster, yes. It almost certainly saved the Anzac seas from a total massacre on the beaches. Because the intended target, Gava Tepe, was not the empty stretch of sand, the British envisioned. No, the Turks had heavily fortified it. They had a strong point there. Complete with an artillery battery, heavy 15 centimeter and 12 centimeter guns. Supported by interlocking machine gun nests. Had the Anzac's landed where they were supposed to, they would have been walking directly into a wall of coordinated artillery fire.

So the steep hills surrounding their accidental landing spot actually shielded them. It's remarkable twist of fate. It really is. A mistake saves them from immediate destruction, but plunges them into utter tactical chaos. Total chaos. The boats are all mixed up along the shoreline. Officers are trying to figure out where on earth they are. Holding maps that do not match the jagged clefs in front of them at all. And Turkish centuries have already opened fire from the reaches above. So the Grand Corps plan was just immediately discarded. As it was physically impossible to execute. Right. Men from different battalions simply started scrambling up the Ariburnu slope. They were literally grabbing the thorny gorse branches. Digging their bayonets into the dirt just to pull themselves up the inclines. And because the original plan is entirely out the window, the orders passed down the line become incredibly disjointed. Vanguard units like the 9th and 10th battalions, they're given these frantic orders to just go as fast as they can. Keep going at all costs. Yeah. Instead of forming a solid cohesive defensive line, they advance piecemeal into the deadly

scrub-covered terrain, areas known as the 400 plateau and baby 700. The battle just immediately devolves into small pockets of men fighting isolated, confusing skirmishes. Those rapid advances led to some incredibly intense close quarters encounters. Because they were pushing forward so aggressively through the brush, some Australian units actually stumbled right into hidden Turkish artillery positions. Yes. The sources share a brilliant anecdote about this exact kind of encounter. It involves Lieutenant Thomas' platoon. Right. So they're wandering across this plateau, taking fire, desperately looking for the guns that are targeting the beaches. And they finally spot a Turkish artillery battery hidden at the head of a gully. Thomas' men opened fire, charged the gun crews, and actually managed to capture the artillery pieces. The Turkish crews had managed to remove the breech blocks before retreating. Right. And for those unfamiliar, a breech block is the heavy steel mechanism that seals the rear of the cannon. Without it, the explosive force of the shell would just blow backward out of the gun, making

it completely impossible to fire. So the Australians realized they couldn't turn the captured guns on the enemy. Adepting on the fly, they take whatever tools they have and completely smash the delicate optical sights. They destroy the internal screw mechanisms to ensure that even if the Turks reclaim the position, they can never use those guns against the beaches again. It's a perfect distillation of the quick, brutal, improvisational warfare that defined the morning. And they absolutely needed to improvise because that foundational British assumption that the Ottoman army, which is full under pressure, was fatally flawed. The planners in London completely ignored recent history. The Ottoman army of World War I was heavily influenced by German military advisors. And more importantly, their commanders down to the company level were highly experienced. These were hardened veterans who had just fought in the grueling Balkan Wars. They knew how to maneuver. They knew how to utilize defensive terrain. And they were fiercely motivated to defend their homeland. Which brings us to a crucial moment.

Into this sprawling chaotic beachhead steps, one of the most significant military and political figures of the 20th century. Here's where it gets really interesting. Lieutenant Colonel Mustafa Kimmel. The commander of the Turkish 19th Division. His involvement on that first day is a masterclass in battlefield command. In situational awareness, the British thought they had the element of surprise, right? Right. But by pure, incredible champs, Kimmel's 57th infantry regiment wasn't asleep in their barracks when the landing happened. They had been awake since 5.30 a.m. fully armed and prepared. Because they were scheduled to conduct a routine military exercise in the hills, overlooking that exact area. It is a staggering piece of terrible luck for the invading forces. So when Kimmel gets word of the landing, he doesn't wait for explicit orders from the higher ups in the Ottoman command chain. He personally leads his vanguard regiment toward a high ground position called Chinnick Bear. He's down at the chaotic advance and immediately recognizes the strategic reality that the

British planners failed to grasp. Whoever held those commanding heights would dominate the entire battlefield. If the ANZ issues took the heights, they could fire down onto the Turkish supply lines and the campaign was functionally over. So he stops retreating Turkish centuries, forces them back into a defensive line to buy time, and prepares the 57th regiment for a massive immediate counterattack. The sources provide the ultimate order he gave to his men that morning, and it perfectly encapsulates the severity of the situation. He told them, men, I'm not ordering you to attack, I'm ordering you to die. In the time that it takes us to die, other forces and commanders can come and take our place. I mean, wow, that is a chilling concept. Existential defense. He understood that this single morning was the hinge point of the entire campaign. And order and the willingness of the Turkish soldiers to sacrifice everything to hold the high ground, it completely blunted the fragmented ANZ-WIG advance. Okay, let's slow down for a second. When we talk about grand strategies and massive troop movements, it's very easy to lose sight

of the human tool. Exactly. We need to ground this narrative in what this environment actually felt like for the people trying to survive it. To help us picture the sheer terror of this landscape, our sources include the extensive diary of private Victor Rupert Laidler, who served as a medic with the second field ambulance. His accounts are visceral, haunting. He wrote about sitting in the rowing boats in the pre-don light, hearing the massive 15-inch guns of the naval battleships offshore pounding the coastal forts. But the detail that stood out to him, the thing that signaled the true danger, was the sound of the small arms fire from the cliffs. He noted that the distant, overlapping rifle shots sounded just like croaking frogs. It's such a surreal, almost peaceful metaphor for a sound that represented mechanized death. And that brief illusion of nature shattered the moment the boats hit the shingle. Laidler documents the terrifying reality that the Turks were completely prepared in waiting. Many men were killed by concentrated fire before they even had a chance to swing their

legs over the side of the rowing boats. Once the medical teams finally made it ashore, they faced a logistical nightmare that bordered on the impossible. I really want you to put yourself in the shoes of a field medic in this terrain. Imagine trying to maneuver a heavy canvas stretcher, carrying a severely wounded man. Down a nearly vertical cliff face. Slighting on looser. With your path entirely choked by those thorny, gorse bushes we mentioned earlier. And you are doing all this while under constant invisible fire from the ridges above. Laidler wrote that the country was awful and mountainous, and that Turkish snipers would camouflage themselves up in the sparse trees. Doing what he called their deathly work. The tactical situation deteriorated so badly that the medical corps had to make a deeply psychologically damaging decision. Laidler mentions that they eventually had to rip the red cross emblems off their uniforms. And paint over the crosses on their medical gear. In the laws of armed conflict, that emblem is supposed to be a universal shield.

But in the absolute chaos and desperation of this environment, the bright red crosses were simply providing a high contrast aiming point for snipers in the brush. Removing that emblem is a profound stripping away of the rules of war. It reduces everything to pure survival. And as the sun arcs across the sky, the situation for the ANZICs only grows more desperate. By the afternoon, Mustafa Kemal's initial counterattack has swelled into a massive coordinated operation. The Turks bring up reinforcements from the 72nd, the 27th, and the 77th Infantry Regiment. We're looking at an organized assault involving between 10,000 and 12,000 Turkish troops. Now fully backed by their own artillery firing down into the gullies. This overwhelming counterattack systematically pushes the exhausted, fragmented ANZIC forces back toward the sea. All those units that had charged forward so aggressively in the morning are forced into a grueling fighting retreat. By the time the sun begins to set, the ANZXIs have been boxed into a tiny, incredibly

precarious beachhead. To give you a true sense of the claustrophobia of this space, the entire Allied perimeter was under two miles long, and barely 790 yards deep, less than half a mile inland, after an entire day of relentless combat. By nightfall, there were roughly 16,000 ANZXI troops ashore packed into this tiny sliver of beach and cliffside, and they are in a state of absolute command crisis, which brings us to the critical inflection point of the entire campaign. This 9.15 pm Lieutenant General Birdwood, the ANZXI commander, finally goes ashore to assess the situation. He is immediately surrounded by his senior generals and brigadiers. And they are panicked. They report that the troops are thoroughly demoralized. They have been subjected to constant shrapnel fire all day. These are artillery shells designed to burst in the air and rain jagged metal down on exposed infantry. The casualty count is horrific. The brigadiers firmly believe that if they are subjected to another coordinated Turkish attack in the morning, they will be driven right into the sea. They urgently beg Birdwood to order an immediate evacuation.

Birdwood is looking at a potential massacre, but he refuses to make that monumental call alone. He signals his superior, General Ian Hamilton, who is safely out on the flagship. Hamilton turns to his naval commanders and asks if it is logistically possible to pull 16,000 men off that beach in the dark. The Navy unequivocally says no. They explain it would take days to organize. And they would lose entirely too many men trying to load them back into the wooden boats under constant artillery fire. So Hamilton is trapped by the logistics of his own flood invasion plan. He sends a response back to Birdwood that permanently alters the course of history for everyone involved. He informs the commanders on the beach that evacuation is impossible. His final fateful order to the ANZAC forces is to dig yourselves right in and stick it out. Dig dig dig until you are safe. Dig dig dig and that is exactly what they did. What was designed in London to be a rapid, mobile assault to quickly capture a peninsula instantly transformed into a brutal, static war of attrition.

The soldiers pulled out their entrenching tools and dug defensive lines that in some places were only yards away from the Turkish trenches. They stayed pinned on that tiny patch of land for eight grueling months before finally evacuating in December of 1915. The human cost of that stubborn refusal to yield on both sides of the line was staggering. The sources lay out the grim mathematics of the campaign very clearly. On the very first day alone, over 2,000 Australians and New Zealanders were killed or wounded in the scrub. On the Turkish side, the 27th and 57th infantry regiments, the vanguard units that bore the brunt of the defensive fighting. They lost about 50% of their combined combat strength. By the time the eight-month campaign finally ended, over 11,000 Anzacis and an estimated 87,000 Turkish soldiers would be dead. So what does this all mean? Why do we still dissect this specific battle over a century later? The legacy of the single day is incredibly profound. April 25th became known as Anzac Day.

But it is vital to emphasize that Anzac Day does not celebrate a military victory. Not at all. The Gallipoli campaign was an unmitigated strategic failure for the British Empire. The day is fundamentally about commemoration. It honors the contribution, the resilience, and the immense suffering of all the Australians and New Zealanders who served and died in that conflict. And in all conflicts since, it is a day of reflection on the cost of war. It also raises a remarkable reality about reconciliation, because the legacy of April 25th isn't solely held by Australia and New Zealand. It is deeply embedded in the national consciousness of Turkey as well. The modern reality of this shared history is incredibly moving. Today, tens of thousands of people, including generations of Australians and New Zealanders, travel to Turkey. They gather peacefully at Anzac Cove in the freezing dark for dawn services. They stand shoulder to shoulder in the exact same ground where this brutal, chaotic fighting took place. And they are welcome there as guests by the very nation their ancestors once invaded.

It's a shared commemoration of immense loss and mutual respect. We started this deep dive looking at a deeply flawed strategic plan drawn up in London. A plan born of imperial hubris that dropped thousands of men onto the bloody, gorse-covered cliffs of Gallipoli. As we wrap up, I want to leave you with a final, lingering thought that builds on everything we've unpacked today. Go for it. The failure of Gallipoli is often viewed strictly as a military disaster. But consider how this catastrophic event, paradoxically forged three distinct national identities. For Australia and New Zealand, the shared suffering on those cliffs became a moment where they stepped out from the shadow of the British Empire and defined their own independent character. And for the Ottoman Empire, the ferocious defense of their homeland laid the groundwork for the modern Republic of Turkey. Led by none other than Mustafa Kemal, it raises a fascinating observation about the nature of history. How often in modern strategic planning, whether in boardrooms, political campaigns, or even

in our own personal lives, do we map out perfect scenarios that completely ignore the agency capability and willpower of the people on the other side? That is a profound perspective to consider. The idea that national identity can be born from the ashes of a flawed military campaign gives a completely different weight to the history of that day. It really does. Thank you so much for joining us on this deep dive. We hope it gave you a new lens through which to view a legendary chaotic moment in time. Keep questioning the history you think you know. Keep digging into the sources and we'll catch you on the next deep dive. You're listening to a podcast right now, driving, working out, walking the dog. If you're into podcasts, chances are you have something to say too. With rss.com, starting your own podcast is free and easy. Upload an episode and we distribute it to Apple podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, and more. Track your listeners, see where they're from, and start earning from ads just like this. If you've been thinking about starting a podcast, this is your sign. Start your new podcast for free today at rss.com.

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