Chance meeting with sailor nephew

From the Scarborough Mercury, 10th September, 1915. A chance meeting hundreds of miles away

BAYONETTED BY ACCIDENT - SCARBRO' SOLDIERS STIRRING EXPERIENCE - SURPRISE MEETING WITH SAILOR NEPHEW

Writing to his brother, Mr J. Wharton, 42 Moorland Road, from the Alexandria Hospital, Cosham, Hants, Private H. Wharton, 6th East Yorks, who was recently wounded in the Dardanelles, says: "I am going on well. My wound has about healed up, but my leg is still inflamed, and they won't let me get up. They are very good to us here. We get plenty to eat. I have had chicken every day."

Going on to deal with his experiences at Gallipoli Private Wharton says: "I never expected to get back. We left (censored) Friday afternoon. They took us in lighters to the cruisers. When I got on board one I saw a young lad and noticed the name on his cap. I said, 'Have you a young lad aboard named Wharton?' He said, 'Yes, Jack, my pal.' So I was REAL GLAD TO MEET JACK (a boy nephew), who took me and a sergeant for a drink of tea, after which we had a good meal. Then Jack went to lay down, and was asleep when they came for him to stand to the gun. We shook hands and said 'Good Bye,' and he had just gone when the shot came over the ship.

They gave us it hot. As soon as we landed bullets and shrapnel came like hailstones. Our brigade advanced and charged the Turks, and they didn't half yell. We got on to a bit of a hill and started digging ourselves in. One of their guns got the range, and when I heard a shot whizzing I used to duck. Our officer started laughing and said, "It's no use ducking, Wharton." Just after this another shot came near, and he ducked, and I said "I thought you told me not to duck, sir!"

He replied "That was high explosive." We had just got used to the shots when one of our warships put the Turkish gun out of action. We were not there long, but the sights I saw I will never forget. Our navy is doing some grand work. You could see shells from the ships blowing Turks clean into the air. My wound was quite an accident. We had chased the Turks over the top of a hill and then we rested. There was a platoon on the left of the hill and snipers were knocking them over, so the officer told twelve of us to go and cover them while our men dug themselves in.

BULLETS WHIZZED AROUND US, and we were crouching along when the man behind me fell and his bayonet was thrust into me. They put me in a dug out, but at midnight, while we were waiting for reinforcements, the Turks came up in thousands and we had to fall back. Two chaps were helping me away when we fell into a ditch, and I hurt my leg, which started bleeding. Again we got reinforcements and they charged the Turks.

The officer told me to try and get to a farm house, and I crwaled away and laid down in a field, where the stretcher bearers found me. They took me to the dressing station, but we only just reached it when a chap came up and said there were about thirty Turks advancing on us. The bearers picked me up and took me down to the hospital ship where I remained a week, when I returned to England on a well known vessel. So here endeth my story.

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