Remembers Gallipoli

A Foreign Correspondent Remembers Gallipoli

Raymond Gram Swing spent almost 30 years in Europe as foreign correspondent for United States newspapers but is probably best known on the eastern side of the Atlantic for his World War II broadcasts. By the present generation in the South Pacific he is probably not known at all. Nonetheless, his autobiography Good Evening!, which stretches in time from 1912 to the present and introduces most of the important figures of the period, is fascinating to any student of recent events.

the previous day and stated that the weather had turned bad and the fleet would not be able to resume its attack that day.

“The reference to the weather was a giveaway. The weather was perfect.

British histories of the Dardanelles battle still repeat this prevarication, not realising it was an invention to help conceal that the Allied com-

ONE of the most interesting sec tions of the book is undoubtedly his reporting of the Gallipoli cam paign—from the other side—which he does from a new angle to most of us, and with humour as well.

Most of Swing’s early service as a foreign correspondent was in Berlin (he was, in fact, of German descent), and from there, in early 1915, he was sent to cover events in Turkey, then Germany’s Alley.

In mid-March, over a month be fore the British landing at Gallipoli, he and other newspapermen had a ring-side seat on the Asiatic side of the Dardanelles, looking down on the narrows of the Straits when the Allied fleet of British and French warships began the battle to force its way into the Sea of Marmara and on to Constantinople.

The forts that guarded the Straits were only lightly held at this time but the Allied Naval bombardment which reached its climax on March 18, not so much damaged the forts beyond repair as depleted their ammunition. When the action was broken off in the night it was assumed by both the correspondents and the Turks that the latter were beaten; that when the ships returned in the morning, they would pass al most unmolested up the Straits and beyond.

Changed The War The Great War would have taken a far different course if this had hap pened. But it did not happen.

“. . . For the Allied fleet did not return the next day,” writes Swing. “It never did enter the Sea of Marmara and sail victoriously to the Bosporus and Constantinople. It did not again attack the forts at the narrows. The first intimation I had that it was not returning was when I was told that the retreat [of the correspondents] into Anatolia had been postponed.

The early-morning wireless news from London reported the battle of

mand had decided to change the campaign against Turkey.”

Swing returned to Constantinople and when next he visited the area it was to the Gallipoli front in late May. He lunched with General von Sanders, who had no doubt that the Allies would not get through.

Nor did they.

The author shortly afterwards made another visit to this front— this time by sea when he became involved in a comic incident with a British submarine which Kipling later used in a story.

Dressed in a German officer’s uni form with a white arm band, Swing sailed down the Sea of Marmara in a small, grubby Turkish transport. The night was uneventful but in the morning a British submarine surfaced almost alongside them.

The Turkish sailors knew what to do—they got into the boats, or tried to, leaving Swing to conduct nego tiations in English.

He, not unnaturally, became slightly excited, tried for a time to help launch the last boat and when it looked as though it would take too long, rushed to the side of the vessel and shouted to the commander: “Can you give us a minute?”

By this time the sub was very close, indeed, the commander answered quietly: “Yes—l will give you time.” Then, in the manner of the sea: “Who are you?”

Acutely aware of his get-up and his odd situation, Swing assumed that the commander was asking his identity and answered, “I am Ray mond Swing of the Chicago Daily News.”

The commander bowed in mock politeness and replied, “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Swing, but what is the name of your ship?”

The humour of it was not allowed to die, records Swing—it became a favourite of Naval messes in England.

Swing returned permanently to the United States before World War II and there began his latter-day career —that of a news commentator.

His singular second name is a relic of one of his marriages. His wife was a feminist and objected to becoming Mrs. Swing on marriage. He, how ever, felt that as they had to fre quently travel to Germany, the busi ness of registering at hotels as Mr.

Swing and Miss Gram, and being as signed to the same room, would be full of difficulties. He therefore sug gested a compromise—that if she took his name, he would take hers. (GOOD EVENING! Bodley Head. 38/6.)