"Now you know," said he, "what the Special Order about holding Helles was for—to deceive old Tomfool Turk; and why those regiments from Suvla were landed here—to appear to the Turk like reinforcements, but really to conduct the evacuation at Helles, having learnt the job at Suvla; and why we wanted the Turkish aeroplanes to get back with news of our landing of troops—but, my bonny lad, for every two hundred we land by day, we'll take off two thousand by night!"
After a morning of hurried packing we decorated the dug-out walls with messages for Johnny Turk to find, when he should enter our deserted dwelling. "Sorry, Johnny, not at home"; "Au revoir, Abdul."
"Really," said Monty, "we possess a pretty wit." And, having placed a mug of whisky on the table with a bottle of water, so that Old Man Turk could pour it out to his liking, he wrote: "Have this one with me, John. You fought well."
"Get my kit down with yours," said I. "I'll meet you at W Beach at ten pip-emma."
"Why?" he asked in surprise. "Aren't you coming with me?"
"No," I replied, playing scandalous football with the cookhouse; "I'm going to join my company and lead my braves to safety. Good-bye."
"For Heaven's sake, don't be rash," he called after me as I set off. "There may be dangerous work."
"Meet you at W Beach at ten pip-emma," cried I, now some distance away.
"But you haven't the doctor's permission to return."
"Damn the doctor!" I yelled, and disappeared.