When I set out for the Dardanelles on Friday, March 13, 1915, to command an unknown army against an unknown enemy, in an unknown country, that was an original undertaking. To write a preface to an unknown book being printed in another hemisphere—to write it from memory—in the train and in a hurry, that also is an original undertaking, and it is necessary to begin by setting forth these facts in order that my many omissions and shortcomings may have a better chance of forgiveness.
Crossing the German frontier, with the edict of the New Zealand Government still in my pocket, I got out to stretch my legs at the first stop. The name of that railway station was Düren. Hardly had I alighted when my eyes fell upon the letters, "N.Z.M.R.," quite unmistakably affixed to the shoulder-strap of an officer also standing on that platform. Since the year 1915, this particular combination of capital letters has exercised upon me a certain fascination—I have to go right there. So I went, and asked the wearer of the shoulder-strap if he had been at the Dardanelles.
"I have, indeed," he said. "I am Lieut.-Colonel John Studholme. I served in the Dardanelles under you, and now I am the last New Zealander in Germany."
"You speak figuratively," said I. "You mean you are one of the last."
"Not so," he replied. "I am not one of the last; I am the last one."
Now here, thought I to myself, is a queer thing! I am told to write a preface to a history of an Army, and I meet the last item of that Army which did so much to win the Rhineland, in Rhineland; the last man of that superb band who were raised from a population of one million and lost fifteen thousand killed; whereas, to take other standards, the Belgians, justly famous as having fought so long and so valiantly for the freedom of Europe, lost thirteen thousand killed out of a population of seven millions. Once again, too, there came to me the thought of their losses at the Dardanelles:—
| Total strength landed | 8,556 | all ranks |
| Casualties in killed and wounded (excluding sickness) | 7,447 |
These thoughts and the coincidence of meeting Colonel Studholme, gave me courage. I had been thinking I could not do justice to my theme, and that I must regretfully decline. Now I resolved to take my courage in both hands and go ahead; so here, with the help of my personal diary, I revive memories of my meeting with the first New Zealander.
On March 29, 1915, I motored across from Mena Camp (where I had been reviewing the Australians) to Heliopolis. There was a big dust storm blowing. Godley commanded. I wrote down on the spot, "These fellows made a real good show; superb physique. Numbers of old friends, especially amongst the New Zealanders."
Next day, March 30, I wrote to Lord Kitchener, "The physique of the rank and file could not be improved upon." Also: "They are all as keen as possible, and will, I am certain, render a very good account of themselves if the conditions encountered give them a fair chance."