Today : 21st Aug : Is the 99th Anniversary of the death of William (Billy) Frankland UNSWORTH, 9th Bn The Lancashire Fusiliers, killed at Gallipoli 1915. Plenty of research on Billys travels has been done by myself, and it still continues in the hope that I may produce a play and possibly a book. Here is a brief account (based on many facts) of what may have happened on that fateful day : Billy and the Fusiliers were attacking the southern end of W Hills along with the 5th Dorsets. Twenty two allied machine guns were firing across the flanks from Chocolate Hill supporting the artillery fire. This was a full, all out, bloody battle. As the barrage continued Billy was down on his haunches in a trench with what was left of his Platoon amidst the dust and smoke. There were three lines of Turkish trenches in front of them and the task was very clear......Take the trenches. The whistle blew........that deadliest of noises among noise.....the one sound that sent Billy’s heart racing....”Over the top boys.....Let’s go...” shouted Billy. They scrambled over the trench parapet and pepper potted into the angry deluge.....”Get down”........shouted Billy as he quickly looked left and right to check his men were with him. “OK....Lets go again......5 yards then down again lads....” Trying to keep control of his men under such intense bombardment was bloody difficult but it meant that Billy had something to concentrate on. The scrub was beginning to set alight again, adding to the mayhem, the heat, and the fatigue. The smoke was thick and yellow as it drifted past Billy’s platoon and it was difficult to know in which direction they were heading. There were bullets whizzing past them every few seconds kicking dirt up all around. There were horrible cries from the injured and terrifying screams as they fell helpless into the burning scrub. Billy had his bayonet fixed and it pointed towards the ground in front of him as he ran forward.....THUD!!!.....Billy was hit.......The hot Turkish metal warhead ripped through his shirt and into his chest. It was like a burning javelin and it sent him crashing backwards onto the stony ground. There were bodies everywhere as he tried to get up but all he could do was crawl. He saw a small hut to his left and in desperation crawled the few yards and took shelter in it, panting for his life, totally exhausted.....he had nothing left to give. Billy couldn’t move. He lay there sweating and hurting and bleeding in the smoke filled hut. The noise began to disappear and his vision dimmed as the hut was set alight. This was it as Billy fell asleep for the last time. All around soldiers were shouting orders and trying to move forward to the Turkish trenches. Stretcher bearers were taking back casualties as best they could but were also being hit by the relentless hail of bullets and Turkish shelling. Lt Graham Brown was leading the frantic search for injured Fusiliers but it was too late for Billy. He was never found. Bella had just received the post card Billy he had sent from Imbros on 30th July 1915. On the front at the top above the address Billy had wrote quite proudly “On Active Service” She smiled as she read his words on the back....”Dear wife, I now take the pleasure of writing you a few lines just to let you know that I am still in the best of health. The place we are at is very warm, it has made us all look like darkies. I have not dropped across Henry since but expect to do so any day. Hoping this finds you and our children in the best of health. I remain your Loving Husband and father....William”....................
Posted on: Thu, 21 Aug 2014 09:11:55 +0000
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