TNT History Archives: Ottoman-German 9 January 1917 Artillery Attack on Meis Island

 

The Greek island of Meis (Kastelorizo/Megisti) was armed and used 

by English forces in World War I to threaten the nearby Turkish 

Mediterranean coast and for staging airplane carriers.  But a surprise 

artillery attack by a combined Ottoman-German shore battery sunk 

the HMS Ben-my-Chree airplane carrier and damaged other English 

ships in the Meis Island port on 9 January 1917. 

In his memoir “Five Years in Turkey”, German General Liman von 

Sanders made mention of this artillery attack and lauded the efforts 

of three German officers, in particular, taking little or no note of the 

Turkish participation.  In the April-May 1941 issue of Yeni Türk 

magazine, İskender F. Sertelli gave the Turkish perspective, quoting 

a Turkish officer who was involved in the attack.  A Turkish corporal 

named “Hızır” was singled out for his remarkable contributions to 

the success of the mission.  Herewith, the English translation of 

Sertelli’s article.  

//begin translation//

 

We are indebted to Corporal Cafer ((henceforth identified as “Hızır”, 

which may have been his nickname – someone who saves the day at 

the last moment is often referred to in Turkish as “Hızır”))  for the 

victory achieved on 9 January 1917 at Meis Island because the enemy 

airplane carrier was sunk by the first cannonball he fired.

In this story of mine I will talk about the important raid launched against 

Meis Island on 9 January 1917.  My friend the late Mr. Celâl, a Trabzon 

police chief who served with distinction in the War of Independence, told 

me about it.  Celâl was also a reserve officer in the Great War and I heard 

about the event directly from his lips. 

But first, let us hear a bit about it from a more official and authoritative 

source, namely General Liman von Sanders, who was the commander at 

Çanakkale and who wrote about the incident in his memoir “Five Years 

in Turkey”:

“The decision was made to launch an artillery raid on the port at Meis 

Island in the Mediterranean Sea.  English detachments had occupied the 

island and outfitted it with cannon, radio and telegraph stations and other 

equipment.  Meis Island was thereby established as a good spot and base 

of operations for the English to launch various operations against the 

Turkish coast. 

We made preparations over the course of four weeks.  An “obüs” 

((howitzer)) and a mountain battery were brought from Baladiz, the 

railroad station nearest to the Anatolian coast, over initially good roads 

and then over roadless high mountain paths, to the rocky point opposite 

Meis Island.  

Baladiz is today’s Gümüşgün in Isparta province.  Meis 

Island is just opposite Kaş.

A few hundred laborers were needed to get the guns through the 

approximately 50-kilometer goat and donkey road by widening the road 

from about three meters in width, over the course of a month.  In this 

way, and with great difficulty, the guns were brought to the coast.  The 

mountain range crossed was 1,500 meters high and the rocky point on 

the coast was 220 meters high. 

On 6 January, our guns were set up at a distance of 5,000 meters from the 

Meis Island port.   Our ammunition was brought by means of 400 camels 

and the enemy was unaware of our activities, which had continued for four 

months. 

On 9 January, our guns were readied for firing.  A warship that was first 

thought to be a cruiser, but which was later determined to be an English 

airplane carrier painted grey was seen from afar in the port.  This ship was 

anchored at the mouth of the port without any attendant precautions.  On 

that day at about one-thirty o’clock, our hidden batteries began to open fire.  

After sustaining a few hits, the large warship began to catch fire and the 

airplane carrier was no longer able to use its cannon.  Soon the ship’s 

ammunition exploded and the vessel began taking on water.  On the 

morning of 10 January, it could be seen that the ship’s two smokestacks 

had been broken up from the rear, the front of the ship was almost 

completely submerged and the vessel lay ruined in its anchorage.

In addition, two torpedo boats under steam and an armed commercial ship 

suffered many hits but were able to escape, albeit in flames.  The radio-

telegraph stations on the island were also destroyed by the Turkish 

batteries.  Meanwhile, the enemy batteries on the island were abandoned 

so the enemy  was henceforth unable to make any sort of counterattack,

toward the Turkish shore.

The honor associated with this successful firing that has taken an 

important place in war history, belongs to three people: first, German 

Cavalry Capt. Schuler, secondly, First Lt. Hesel Berger, and thirdly, 

artillery commander Major Schmit Kolbov.”

                  HMS Ben-my-Chree airplane carrier

Now let us hear about the event from the lips of one of our valued officers 

who participated in it, Capt. Celâl, a Trabzon police chief who died 

recently:

“We worked day and night in high and desolate places where man has 

rarely tread with our soldiers for a month to open a road for the guns to 

pass through.  We would work for 20 hours and then catch a few hours 

sleep during the day.  The job of making a way for the guns was done 

completely by Turkish soldiers and the enemy was none the wiser.   

Commanding us was a German major (Major Schmit Kolbov, so highly 

praised by Gen. Liman von Sanders).  But this major only knew how to 

give orders and, in fact, the other German officers would make fun of 

his officious remarks.  

If Corporal Hızır had not been among our 300-man group of self-

sacrificing soldiers, it would have been impossible for us to traverse 

1,500-meter high mountains and then descend to the rocky point on the 

shore.  Because after climbing 300 meters, the goat path ended and the 

steep rocky terrain began.  Let alone getting the “obüs” across these rocks, 

it was nearly impossible for us to get by with the light loads we carried 

on our backs. 

Cpl. Hızır went up to the top of the mountain by himself and discovered 

paths we could take down to the point on the coast.  To appreciate what 

Hızır did one must see the wild panorama, untouched by human feet, for 

himself.  After Hızır discovered this path he became known as the 

‘commander in sandals’ and even Major Schmit would address him this 

way in Turkish.  Hızır’s exploits did not end here.  After we reached the 

point on the coast, he admonished us in this way: “we will work at night.  

If we work during the day they will be able to spot us with binoculars.”  

On the other hand, the German officers with us claimed that it wasn’t 

possible to see us with binoculars from the island.  But Hızır countered 

that ‘I once spent a night in a ferry in the Meis Island port and the ferry 

captain said that he could see the eagles on this shore from there with 

binoculars.’  In short, Hızır was a very capable fellow.  If he hadn’t been 

with us the enemy would have discovered us before we were able to set 

up our batteries and everything we’d done would have gone for naught.

But there was yet another danger for us on the spot where we placed the 

“obüs”.   We didn’t know what would happen to us after our artillery 

attack.  Perhaps enemy airplanes would attack, find our position and 

destroy us.  Nevertheless, we had no choice but to remain in our position 

until our last preparations had been  completed.  Yet, there were snakes 

all around us and the German officers took to the tree branches like birds 

to escape them and wouldn’t come down.  Hızır took matters into his own 

hands, literally, by fearlessly grabbing the snakes and throwing them into 

the sea.  In this way, we were able to set up our “obüs” in 24 hours, with 

the threat of the snakes being ameliorated to some degree.  

Hızır’s third success was his most important one.  He never flagged 

while carrying the cannon balls to the artillerymen for the artillery 

barrage, outdoing everyone else in this regard.  There was an “obüs” 

officer of ours named Bekir Efendi.  During the firing, Hızır was the first 

to notice a mistake that a sergeant had unknowingly made.  He jumped in 

front of artillery officer Bekir and turned him back toward the gunpowder 

depot, preventing an awful accident.  With tears in his eyes, Bekir Efendi 

said to Hızır  “you didn’t just save me, he saved my cannon, too.  If there 

had been an explosion near the cannon how would we have brought 

another cannon here?”, and kissed him on the forehead.  Shortly thereafter, 

the German artillery commander realized the danger of the averted 

accident, exhibited his concern as his face turned white, and repeatedly 

shook Hızır’s hand.  

That day, Hızır saved our cannon and all of us, as well.   If Hızır were to 

engage in a bayonet fight on the battlefield he would no doubt fell five 

enemy soldiers before falling himself on the sixth try.  He was an 

extraordinary man – unselfish, brave, intelligent and possessing long-range 

vision, in particular.  In this incident, he was tremendously beneficial and 

heroic.  In fact, in the words of his Turkish commanders, he made miracles.   

It would be a great injustice to deny Hızır a large portion of the honor 

associated with the Meis Island success of 9 January 1917, because the 

enemy airplane carrier began to explode with the first cannonball he fired.”

//end translation//