IT was a bungled invasion in which Hampshire soldiers found themselves in the teeth of the fighting that will always be associated with the bloody First World War action at Gallipoli.

Long after a single soldier remains to tell his personal story of Gallipoli in 1915 people will read with incredulity and anger of the ineptness with which the battle was planned and conducted.

At the same time they will salute the valour and devotion to duty, in the face of the most appalling conditions and casualties, shown by Hampshire troops and members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

In February 1915 a joint Anglo-French naval force attempted to blast open the Dardanelles but sustained heavy damage from mines and land-based artillery.

The decision was made for an amphibious landing, sometime in April or May, to seize control of the Dardanelles coastline and clear it of artillery.

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However, the premature naval attack had thrown away the inestimable advantage of surprise so when the county’s soldiers came ashore the enemy, forewarned, were well prepared.

Exactly 100 years ago this week elements of the Hampshire Regiment embarked on a ship which would take them to a small island off the Turkish coast where they transferred to a former collier the River Clyde.

The action was supposed to have shortened the war by two years and to have opened up a vital southern route to support the Russian allies but it ended in disaster.

The following day, April 25, the illustrious “Tigers” were among those in the thick of the fighting and it was that same gallant unit which fought on until the bitter end, though reduced in time to less than a skeleton of a full battalion.

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Hampshire’s contribution does not end there.

Much of the blood of the young volunteer soldiers in the 10th Hampshires and the 8th Hampshires (Isle of Wight Rifles) was spilled in vain on that bleak, soul-destroying strip of Gallipoli, which was finally to be abandoned early in January 1916.

Mown down The 2nd Battalion landing at Cape Helles, as part of the 29th Division, were mown down by machine-gun fire as they went ashore in small boats. Others perished or were put out of the fight as they left River Clyde to cross the 40 yards of water to the beach.

At every point they were overlooked by Turkish machine-gunners, who had waited for the attack in well-prepared positions.

The sea ran red with blood.

Many a Tommy never put a foot on Turkish soil, among them the Hampshire’s commanding officer, Colonel Carrington-Smith, killed as he stood on the bridge of River Clyde marking down Turkish machine-guns.

Those who survived, weighed down by 200 rounds of ammunition, full packs, haversacks and three days’ iron rations – a total of 84 pounds – had to wade ashore through shoulder-deep water or run the gauntlet across a “bridge” of lighters strung together by the Royal Navy.

The remnants of the 86th (Fusiliers) Bridge, the 2nd Hampshires and the Munster and Dublin Fusiliers slowly advanced from the beaches, clawing their way forward in the face of the enemy guns.

Then for long weeks on end they were called upon to launch attack after attack.

Short of artillery support, depleted in numbers, weakened by illness, tired through days on end without sleep, lice-ridden and unwashed, bombarded, sniped and machine-gunned – that was the life of the British, Australian and New Zealand soldiers for almost eight long, ghastly months.

The county soldiers never once lost their nerve or will to fight on.

In fact so high was their morale and standard of discipline in the face of the most alarming casualties that when the evacuation was ordered they were picked out to be the last to leave.

Many acts of gallantry were performed by the Hampshire soldiers, some were recognised by decorations but many went unnoticed or unrewarded.

The cost to Britain and the Commonwealth was 34,000 dead and a quarter of a million casualties.

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AMONG the soldiers landing in Gallipoli in May 1915 was a teenager named James Lock - who is pictured above. 

It was not until he had been wounded several times and sent back to England that the authorities learned their eager young recruit, who had volunteered at the outbreak of the First World War was not 18 years old but a boy of 14, who had just left school.

James came from a “soldiering family” and was determined to become a soldier himself.

As soon as he had left school at 14 he badgered his mother to write to the officer commanding the regiment in which his late father had served, asking to be allowed to join as a boy member of the band.

His mother agreed to do this but in the meantime the youngster could not contain his impatience. 
Without waiting for the promised “first vacancy” in the band he presented himself at the Hampshire recruiting centre and gave his age as 18.

As James was 5ft 8in without his shoes the harassed recruiting officer was easily deceived and the teenager was soon training on the Isle of Wight. 

He revelled in shooting practice and eventually qualified as the crack shot of the company, earning an extra sixpence (2p) a day as a qualified marksman. 

He spent three months on the Island and was to have been sent to the Western Front in France but at the last moment he was drafted to the 2nd Hampshires in Gallipoli, now aged 15.

A quaintly-worded report of his story at the time says that “his mother debated whether it would be wise to let so young a boy go to face the difficulties which it was known older men had to encounter in Gallipoli”.

But James, whose home was in Winchester, had not done a man’s training for nothing and went out in May with the force which landed at Suvla Bay.

Two hours after landing, with a large number of his comrades still on board, the troopship King Edward was torpedoed and sunk.

The position taken up by the force to |which James was attached was found to be untenable and they re-embarked on another vessel to go further down the peninsula.

They arrived off the coast near Achi Baba and went ashore at night to move into the trenches. 

Of this James was later to say: “We were aboard ship in the evening and next morning we were defending the first line trenches. Had to land at night because of the shelling in the day time.”

His force returned to Suvla Bay for another landing: “It was just a case of tumbling overboard into the mud and wading ashore as best we could. Full kit, of course.

"We got some way inland before they spotted us and then the fun began.”

Later they returned to Achi Baba, which was a disastrous battle for the 2nd Hampshires and their losses were heavy.

James was wounded six times by shrapnel and a bullet from a Turkish sniper struck him behind the right ear. 

Along with other wounded he was shipped to Alexandria where he remained for two days before being sent on to England. Here the bullet – eventually made into a brooch for his mother – was finally extracted.

James’s mother this time put her foot down and let the authorities know how old he was.

James was discharged but, still anxious to “do his bit” until he could join up again at 18, he worked at the Army stables at Chilcombe.

His exploit is more amazing in that, as a child, he had undergone numerous operations to correct a spine curvature and at one stage doctors had declared that he would always be deformed. 

James Lock died peacefully in The Royal Hospital Chelsea as a Chelsea Pensioner in 1977 aged 77.