Weather cleared up later. Battle still going on, we holding the enemy safely. Went on sapping at "Quinn's," in four-hour shifts. Very lively and "jumpy" work—enemy crawling up at dark and firing at fifteen to twenty feet range. Periscopes now being used, made in most cases from glasses cut from large mirrors taken from the ships. These periscopes don't last many hours at this part of the line, as a rule, and many nasty scalp wounds have been received through the glass being shattered by rifle fire. We have had to make them as small as possible—simply a lath with two small pieces of mirror about two inches by one. In some cases, even, a walking-stick with the centre cut out has been used with good results. Miss my overcoat and blanket greatly, the nights being cold. Haven't seen them since we discarded our packs at the landing.
30th (Friday).—Still the same: battle going on. Sapping continued under difficulties. Stench from enemy's dead lying near the trenches very bad. Fed up with continuous sapping work. Tucker improving a bit. No mail yet arrived. Heard that Goorkhas had landed to assist us. Removed to new ready-made dug-outs further up the hill. Came back again on hearing that the late owner had been shot while lying in it. Message of congratulation from Lord Kitchener to Colonial troops. British Tommies reported to be advancing strongly, and due to join us to-morrow night. First bombs thrown into our trenches to-day—the cricket-ball variety fitted with time-fuses. We amused ourselves by making "catches" of these bombs and slinging them back into the Turks. It was lively work, and certainly exciting. I'd much rather play cricket on the Auckland Domain, however. RUM to-night—the first issue since landing. It went down slick.
May 1 (Saturday).—Sapping: still sapping. Getting quite close to enemy, their nearest trench being now only about twenty feet distant. Plenty of Turkish bombs to enliven the time. One I picked up yesterday and pulled the fuse out of was sent down to headquarters for inspection. On my asking to have it back—I thought of making an ink-bottle out of it, or a spittoon—I was informed that it was now Government property, but that I might as a favour get it back again. Shan't let the next one I get hold of fall into the hands of the Government! Turks attacked our right flank in force, but beaten off by Australians after suffering heavy loss. Our machine-guns simply mowed them down in hundreds. Things looked bad for a bit as the enemy shrapnel got well home into the open ditch that is supposed to be a trench, and our losses were heavy. Also, some fresh troops (not Anzacs, thank heaven!) sent up to help our fellows didn't play the game, letting the Australians down badly. Why the dickens do they enlist boys of seventeen in some of the Home corps? They are only in the way when it comes to cold-blooded bayonet work.
Some of our fellows are now partially deaf owing to the all-fired row that goes on day and night. Changed camp to-day, shifting to other side of "Shrapnel Gully," about a quarter of a mile away from "Quinn's." Made a boss dug-out for four—myself and three mates. While eating dinner a piece of shell as large as my hand (No. 11 in gloves—when I wear them!) bumped straight into our happy home, just grazing ——'s back. Made ourselves fairly snug with sandbags, etc. Have now got a greatcoat (late owner past caring for such things), but no blankets. Got our first whole night's sleep last night since landing, rather broken owing to unusually cold night following extremely hot day. Snipers very busy; one said to have killed over a dozen of our chaps to-day down at a water-hole in the "Gully."
May 2.—Fight still going on: 8th day of it. Shell fire not so heavy, but rifles talking away as merrily as ever. Very trying in trenches, owing to stench from dead men. Read the following scrawled in blue pencil on a cross made from biscuit-box wood just outside our camp: "In loving memory of 29 brave soldiers of the King." We are living practically on a big graveyard. Our dead are buried anywhere and everywhere—even in the trenches. It takes a lot of getting to like. Had a boncer breakfast this morning, firewood being fairly plentiful. Haven't had a wash, my clothes or boots off, since we landed eight days ago. Wonder what I look like! Made a road for mules from valley up to firing line, following a winding course. Came back to camp and heard that a big general advance is to take place to-night, commencing at 7 p.m. My section is to be divided into two half-sections, each under command of a non-com., and appointed to a separate unit. My party appointed to the 16th Battalion, Australian Infantry. Sure to be a hot picnic. Wonder how many of us will draw rations to-morrow!
May 3.—Am back in camp again with a smack in the right shoulder and a useless right arm—and jolly glad to be back, too. Am the only tenant of our dug-out, my three chums being knocked over—all seriously wounded. Can just manage to write.
We had a crook spin. The big guns of the ships and the shore batteries started the ball by shelling the enemy heavily and driving him from his front trenches with some loss. We followed the infantry to the attack at dusk, advancing up a dark and evil-looking gully or nullah, the track being only fit for amphibious monkeys to follow, and so narrow that single file had to be adopted. We didn't enjoy ourselves a little bit, as added to the natural difficulties of the passage—we were up to the thighs in mud and water one minute and scrambling over roots, branches, and rocks the next, all in pitch darkness—we were sniped at point-blank range all the way, losing several men. At last, after a very trying time, we gained the top and found that the leading companies of infantry had carried the position and were engaged in digging themselves in under one of the hottest fires I ever ran up against. Our little half-section of about eighteen men were ordered to spread themselves along the line, their duties being to advise and assist the infantry. We did so, and at once men began to fall. The Turks were only about fifty yards away, and although it was dark they could see our chaps fairly well against the background of stars. In a few minutes half our lot were down, I myself being put out of action by a bullet glancing off a pick and getting me in the right shoulder. At the same instant my water-bottle was shot through and the rifle blown from my hand. It wasn't at all a healthy climate. It was just a shambles. Men were lying killed and wounded as thick as sardines in a tin. I remember apologising to a poor chap for treading on his face. But he didn't mind—being dead.
Although my wound was only slight, it settled me for doing any more work, so I was sent back with a message to the O.C. in camp. I shan't forget that trip in a hurry. Owing to having to make a detour to avoid the reinforcements that were coming up, I cut across the back trail without knowing it, and almost walked into the Turks, who were out on a flanking game. One son of a gun tickled the back of my neck with a bullet, and another put one so close to my ear that I felt the organ to make sure it was still hanging to my head. That was good enough for me; I wasn't greedy; so I just ducked and ran, never stopping till I had to —— head down in three feet of mud at the bottom of a ten-foot donga! However, I got my bearings at last, hit the trail, and staggered into camp, more dead than alive, at about midnight. Delivered my message, had my wound dressed, and after a pannikin of tea turned in and had a smoke and an hour or two of sleep. Shoulder hurt a bit.
The captured position was held all day, but owing to being commanded by some rising ground on which the Turks were strongly entrenched and from which they were able to enfilade our chaps, it was abandoned at dark. Hard lines after the heavy losses. But life is cheap here. Heavy firing towards evening. Stayed in my dug-out smoking and nursing my arm.
May 4.—Very heavy firing all along the line most of last night. Distant bombardment by fleet heard. Stayed in camp all morning, but went up to "Quinn's" in the afternoon and supervised infantrymen sapping. Very short of engineers now. My section is just about wiped out. Enemy threw in a regular cloud of bombs, then attacked strongly. They succeeded in getting a footing in the front line trenches, and some hard hand-to-hand bayonet fighting had to be put in before they were cleaned up. Shoulder won't be "fit" for some time; however, I can always boss up others although doing a loaf myself. Had a very "scratch" tea to-night.