In Aberdeen Gully, we are wonderfully protected by our high rocks, and natural banks which have been improved by ourselves, and although many pieces of shell have fallen in it to-day no one was hit.
The Turks are said to have suffered enormously, being taken by surprise in a nullah along which they were marching in close formation. An officer with a machine-gun says he alone accounted for about eighty. We have had about twenty-four wounded Dublins so far, some mere boys. Those boys who are slightly hit are in great glee over their prowess, one as he walked proudly in exclaiming, "Py Jasus, we gave them a holy paestin' this mornin'".
Last night we had a call from the M.O. of the Scottish Rifles. He was telling us about the casualties in the Lowland Brigade on Monday last. They went in 2900 strong and only 1200 came out. Their Brigadier and three Colonels were killed. I have spoken to several officers of the Brigade, and they unanimously put this loss down to some tactical mistake. They charged much too soon, and moreover the men had to assault trenches that had never been shelled. This M.O. says he had been speaking to an officer who said he assisted to cut the rope by which one of the Turkish gunners was bound to his machine-gun. To prevent their running away we have heard that they are sometimes tied to their guns by chains.
6 p.m.—I am back again at W. Beach where I find they have had a perfect hell of a time. A big French transport was sunk off this by a torpedo on Saturday.
In the morning after the fight of the 29th I met in The Gully three wounded soldiers of the Lowland Brigade, two of them trying to put a sling on the third, who had a smashed hand. I assisted and asked about their casualties. One said, "We lost our Brigadier, Scott-Moncrieff, did ye ken him, a wee wiry beggar?"
After dinner to-day I walked to the Dublin trenches with Creighton, who was to bury some of the men killed last night. As we passed a workshop and engineers' dump on our way back, Creighton was again asked to bury a man. While he was doing so I sharpened my pocket knife on a grindstone standing by, and asked a soldier if that was all the killed they had last night. "Yes," he said, "and we had an officer buried to-day." "Oh," said I, "when was he killed?" "He wasn't killed at all." "Then why did you bury him?" "A shell blew in a trench on the top of him, but we dug him out, and he was none the worse."
Another mule—but it was a horse this time—toppled down from the path above us this afternoon. He started on his career with his full load, but he had nothing but his saddle when he dumped himself down on the path three yards from my sleeping bunk, after a drop of about 50 feet. I would much rather have a whole mule flying in among us than a chunk of shell. He picked himself up and looked scared, and went away puffing hard, but quite unharmed except for a bleeding nose.
July 6th.—W. Beach. What's wrong? Not a shot in our neighbourhood during the night, and I must have slept seven hours.
Later.—By afternoon we had a few shells, some dropping uncomfortably near—forty-five in all, so many from Achi Baba, and ten huge ones, with big explosions, from Asia. These last were aimed at our ammunition dumps, where some damage was done.
At supper our Q.M. Dickie told us the following little anecdote, which I jot down as it was connected with our Corps. One evening a recruit presented himself at Fonthill Barracks, Aberdeen, and informed the CO.—Captain Robertson—that he wanted to "Jine". "But we are full up," says R. "Oh, I thocht ye wintet men." "Oh well, as you are a likely looking chap, I think I'll take you; when would you like to be examined?" "I'll be examined noo, far's the doctor?" "I'm the doctor," said R. "God," says the chap, "ye dinna look muckle like a doctor." "But why do you wish to join?" "It's jist like this, I hid a dram, an' the maister said I was a damned feel, so I telt him if I wis a damned feel, he wis a damneder, an' he telt me to gang tae hell, sae I jist gaed, an' here I am." "When can you join?" "Weel, this is Saeterday nicht, it wid need tae be Tiesday or Wednesday. Ye see I drive the milk caert, a damned responsible poseeshen." Not much of a story but real Aberdeen.