The A.D.M.S. had seen Morris and suggested that I should not go out again, so I remained behind and formed a Divisional Collecting Station for all cases that passed the lighthouse. Morris now went out with his men, mine remaining to assist me. We soon had several hundreds through our hands, largely stretcher cases which we arranged in rows in front of the ruins of the lighthouse, till we had more than we could do with, and soon had to forward most of our cases to W. Beach. At midnight we still retained about thirty-five cases, and all had to be nursed and protected from the bitterly cold wind and rain as best we could. The men willingly parted with their own coats and ground sheets, and some even their tunics. We all spent a most miserable night, and I never all my life felt the cold so acutely. But by morning, in spite of this, most of the wounded had recovered from the initial shock and were much brighter, and we had them forwarded to the 88th H.Q.
The chief reason for our not retaining over night a much larger number was that most hopeless accounts of the battle were being received from the wounded, that all our line was in retreat and that before morning we would be forced back to the sea, if not to our boats. I called for volunteers, at the suggestion of Major Bell, to go out and assist, and a number went off at once with their stretchers and did yeoman service, some not returning till 3 a.m. The Turks had been mutilating the wounded—at least so it was said—and we were anxious none should again fall into their hands.
Through the night firing was heard a very short distance off, but this was only from a few snipers who had somehow got through our lines.
By daylight the weather got warmer, and except for naval firing the 29th was a day of rest. Whyte had been detached from the stretcher-bearers before the landing and was in the tent-subdivision that landed at W. Beach. He wished to have a little more excitement and he and I exchanged places, I now joining Thomson at W. Beach. Thomson, Whyte, and their nineteen men had done much work at the landing and had a very hot time. After four days and nights of hard work, although I could not say I was tired, I felt that a rest might be advisable, but the thought of leaving the bearers, even for a day or two, was depressing.
April 30th.—A slack day in a way, although I have been on my feet since early morning. A great number of shells have landed near our camp at W. Beach at various times to-day, coming from Krithia or Achi Baba. It is strange how many shells may land in the midst of closely packed men and horses and little or no damage be done—but there are exceptions.
In the afternoon a hostile aeroplane flew over us—not the first time—which dropped three bombs at an anchored balloon we have floating just off the coast. It missed and received a fierce cannonade from a number of warships but escaped, apparently untouched, and was able to report to the Turks that our landing places would make a splendid target, and the firing, which had been fitful before, now became continuous for a time. One man only was hit. About 12 yards from the opening of my dugout one plunged into the ground with a terrific crash. Thomson and I reconnoitred for a mile or so to the north to view a spot to which we had been ordered to shift our camp, probably to-morrow.
Last night, not being altogether in the open, I expected a comfortable night, but it was intensely cold, as the nights here always are, the very hot days making the cold noticeable. By day the sun is always scorching hot, and I am absolutely nut-brown and my nose painfully burned.
On all sides I still hear of fresh casualties. The battalions I have been connected with have been nearly wiped out—the Munsters and half the Dublins at V. Beach, the Lancs. and the other half of the Dublins at W. Beach, and the Royals at X. Beach. Our total casualties are put at over 4000. We must have reinforcements before we can do much more, and within the next two days 20,000 are expected from Egypt.
Last night when some one shot a dog at Sedd-el-Bahr the French thought the Turks were on them and they opened fire on their own men, several being killed and wounded.
May 1st.—More or less idle all day, all resting before the proposed attack on Achi Baba. In the afternoon we had a visit from an enemy aeroplane again, which dropped a bomb 40 yards from my "funk hole," and 4 yards from what had been taken for a pile of ammunition boxes but was really provisions—only damage, a big hole and a vile smell.