My grandfather was rowed ashore in a boat like this. He fought up the cliffs of Gallipoli, coming to a stop in a trench opposite the Turkish lines. Half his comrades and all the officers were killed, leaving him, a warrant officer, in command.
When the Turks attacked he led the seven Australians and nine New Zealanders that remained alive out of the trench is a desperate, successful charge.
A boat like this took his wounded body to the hospital ship where he died. He never knew that he had a second son, my father, born just a few days before.