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152 pages

English

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Richard Page makes the argument in Gallipoli - The Final Bullet that treachery and not Government blunder and bungle were responsible for the disaster of the 1915 Gallipoli campaign.In this novel, beginning in the dying years of the 19th century and ending in the middle of the First World War, George Deighton tells his story through his diaries - which fall into the hands of David Peterson, his childhood friend, following George's death.Deighton - charismatic, good-looking, and perhaps even slightly flashy and subject to moods - visits Constantinople, where he is picked up and seduced by a young Turk named Mustafa. As Deighton rises rapidly through the political ranks to the position of Junior Minister to Lord Grey, the British Foreign Secretary, Mustafa arrives in London to blackmail Deighton in a relationship that becomes a combination of fear, exposure, love, and sadism.Meanwhile David Peterson, wounded while serving in the British Army in Gallipoli, finds romance blossoming with Hanna - Deighton's sister. On Peterson's return to England, the two men's stories overlap when Peterson discovers that Deighton's treachery had cost the lives of his friends and thousands of others on the beaches of Gallipoli.Deighton's brief homosexual affair in Turkey sows the seed that grows into a web of treason, passion, and betrayal - culminating in the slaughter of British and ANZAC troops at Gallipoli. His best friend David Peterson is faced with a choice -of exposing him or losing the love of his life.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	eBook Versions
Date de parution	06 mars 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781843963387
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Published by Foxtrot Publishing

Copyright © 2015 Richard Page

Richard Page has asserted his
right under the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988 to be identified as
the author of this work.

ISBN 978-1-84396-338-7

eBook production
www.ebookversions.com

All rights reserved. No part of
thispublication may be reproduced, stored
in or introduced into a retrieval system
or transmitted in any form or by any means
electronic, photomechanical, photo-
copying, recording or otherwise without
the prior permission of the publisher.
Any person who does any unauthorized
act in relation to this publication may
be liable to criminal prosecution.
Dedications

To Peter and Trish, whose constant support
and encouragement have made all things possible.

To the House of Commons Library,
as the invaluable depository of historical facts.
Author s note

In drawing upon my experiences asa Member of Parliament for 28 years - including being a Government Minister - I have tried to develop the unusual idea that conspiracy, and not a political cock-up, was responsible for the Gallipoli disaster.

GALLIPOLI -
THE FINAL BULLET

A Traitor s Tale

Graham Sutherland

FOXTROT PUBLISHING
Contents

Cover
Copyright Credits
Dedications
Author s Note

Title Page
Epigraphs
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Characteris destiny
HERACLITUS

Thediscipline of desire is
the background of character.
JOHN LOCKE
Extract from the
Will of David Peterson

...that my storage box and its contents lodged at Barclays Bank should go to my nephew, with the enclosed letter...

Dear Richard,

Bythe time you read this, I will be dead and in my grave. No doubt these wordsare more chilling for me than for you. I have always felt that one day the taskshould fall to you of sorting and editing the diaries and papers enclosed in mystrong box. On reading this, you may conclude that this is a poorinheritance. However, as you make your way through the contents, I hope youwill revise your opinion. I believe that you are ideally suited, not just becauseof your skill with words. I know you well enough to expect that you will bringunderstanding, sensitivity and sympathy to the task.

Thediaries and letters will speak for themselves. However, I feel some explanationis needed on the copious notes which accompany them. They were written shortlyafter the diaries came into my possession. They have remained withoutamendment, save for the last few pages which I returned to again and again as Irecalled the strongbox back from the bank with a view to destroying thecontents. I could never bring myself to make a fire of it all, and back to thebank the box would go. I always concluded that, though these papers remainpainful to me to this day, posterity is entitled to them. You will find that the diaries were written with a candour that was unusual, probably extraordinary, for their time. In writing my notes to fill gaps and give my side of a long story, I also tried to record events with the same candour. However, in my case, it goesagainst my nature to be explicit about the workings of my heart, a trait youmay have noticed on your childhood visits. I have done my best.

Youwill draw your own conclusions from your reading. For me, there is only one:that though the age was wholly different from today, human nature remains as itever was and no doubt ever will be.

Thiswill be the last time I send the box back to the bank. I find myself today anactor in a play. Each day the scenery is changed a little, making theonce-familiar world stranger to me. Each day, another actor disappears.

Thisbrings me to the only condition that I attach to this bequest. On no accountmust you publish these diaries and papers until after the death of my remainingsisters and my neighbour, Hannah Deighton, the only figures left on the stagewith me. If Hannah predeceases me, you may find that I am not long in followingher.

Good luck, old chap!

Yours ever
Uncle David
Chapter One

OCTOBER 8 1900 - Dunstan s School

Iam hopelessly lonely here, David. I have posted two letters to you and you venot replied though you said you would write. You PROMISED. Most of the boyshere are either indifferent or hateful. A few try to make conversation but itseems I have been exiled to this vile, cold, joyless and colourless place. WhatI object to most, I think, is the lack of privacy.

OCTOBER 9 1900 - Dunstan s

Stillno letter. It is hard here even to scratch a few lines in private withoutattracting the attention of someone, so I pretend I m doing prep.in a book. Iam about to undergo the inevitable fate of the new boy . Two boys have begun to pick on me. One looks as if he should be in a boxing ring and the other is about as big but not quite as ugly. At first they were nice in an oily way andwanted me to leave my dormitory after lights out to meet them. When I refused,they began to get nasty. It is not just their size that frightens me. Theirugliness quite disgusts me.

OCTOBER 11 1900- - Dunstan s

I ve given uphope of receiving a letter from you, David. I don t know whether to writeanother or just continue with this diary, as if you were here and listening tome. The loneliness of no contact hurts so much. Maybe you are having as much troublewriting as I do now. I feel I m being watched every waking moment, and probablywhen I am asleep, for all I know.

OCTOBER 15 1900 - Dunstan s

Therehas been dreadful trouble here, David. Because I wouldn t go with them after lightsout, the thugs began pushing me around three evenings ago and I lost my temper.I didn t try to hit the one who looks like a boxer - I still don t know hisname - but something seemed to click as he pushed me back towards the wall. Justbecause you look like a gorilla, there s no need to behave like one, I said. Itwas out of my mouth before I could stop it. The whole lot of them then set uponme. I was on the floorboards, being kicked in the side and the stomach. Whenthey stopped and I began to get up, I apologised and the gorilla looked pleased.Then it happened again, mind-to-mouth with no control. I m sorry, I repeated. What I said was insulting to gorillas. This time the gorilla used his fist. Isaw it coming but what was the point of trying to duck? And anyway, my guts andsides were hurting with such pain I ve never felt before. His fist smashed intomy cheek and eye and I went down on the floor again. The other big one in thegang said: Holy Mother! You ve marked him, Gordon! From that I gathered thatthe general idea is to cause as much pain as possible but to leave no marks. Instantlyhis name registered. This was Gordon the Gorilla. Then someone keeping look outsaid the house master was making his rounds and they all scuttled off, likescared silver fish. They left me there. No-one tried to help me. I crawled tobed just in time and pulled the covers over me moments before the house mastermade his way between the beds. What I ve learned at this place is how to cryquietly.

OCTOBER 16 1900 - Dunstan s

Ican write more now about the bullies. The morning after Gordon the Gorilla hitme, the house master noticed my face. David, you should have seen it. It hurtbut it wasn t until I looked in the mirror that I realised how bad it was. I lookedghastly. Old Pearce, the house master, asked me what had happened and the classwent so quiet you could have heard a mouse move in the roof, which they oftendo at night at this awful place. I said it was an accident. In that caseDeighton, we had better explain it to the Headmaster, he said, marching meoff. I told Bykham that a door had been slammed back on me and that I hadn tseen who had done it. It could have been anyone - an accident. He said nothingbut just silently looked at me. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding.Then he told me to see matron and to take more care to avoid accidents. Inodded at all he said until he dismissed me then, as I was leaving, he stoppedme at the door. In the light of your earlier unfortunate experience, you d bettermind that door, Deighton. And would you please inform whoever did that to youthat I ll cane them red before expelling them when I find them? I said Thankyou sir and knew that Gordon the Gorilla was now powerless over me. Of course,I didn t tell Gordon the Gorilla what Bykham had said but I made sure it gotback to him by telling one of his toadies.

OCTOBER 28 1900 - Dunstan s

Thework here is easy, so long as you keep at it. I m being called a swot becauseof my marks but I say that a swot is someone who does nothing but work and thatisn t me. I ve written to tell Hannah how I m getting on, but did not mentionthe bullying in case she told papa and mother. Sisters will blab so.

NOVEMBER 3 1900 - Dunstan s

Gordonthe Gorilla and his friends have kept their distance but I ve begun to hearwhat they get up to with some of the younger boys. They call them their playthings .That is what the Gorilla and his friends were preparing me for - at least, thisis what some of the boys say. I think they get excited just talking about it.Being someone s plaything could be exciting, I suppose. It depends who thesomeone is. Gordon the Gorilla and his friends are just so crass and vulgar. Otherboys here do little but talk about girls. They asked me if I had done anythingwith girls and I said that when you and I were in France we had kissed a Frenchgirl and touched her breasts. it s a lie, as you know, but I knew they wouldthink more of me for saying it, and I was right.

NOVEMBER 7 1900 - Dunstan s

I don t have anyfriends here, Da