March 18th.—Last night all men belonging to the 29th Division—and there is a large number here on their way back to their units after sick leave—were ordered to fall in at 6.30 p.m., and from then till 10.30 they were kept at their post. This long delay was merely for the purpose of preventing their wandering away and getting too much drink before their departure. We were booked to start soon after midnight. We had a heavy train with about 600 on board, mostly in cattle trucks.
I could see little of the country till dawn when we were passing through a most fertile, well-watered region; date palms in thousands; native villages of mud houses, the whole usually surrounded by low mud walls; hundreds of water wheels driven by oxen, the water drawn from a canal we were skirting.
We cut across, striking Suez Canal at Kantara. The last 20 miles or so was by an absolutely straight single track, through a sand desert, without a trace of animal life, and with only scattered clumps of fibrous vegetation. On looking forward one could see the sand flying like snow drift in front of a gentle breeze. This must continually block the line. The only surfacemen I saw were old fellows in dug-outs about a mile apart, each with a plentiful supply of great water jars. As we neared the Canal vegetation got rather more plentiful, with bushes resembling clumps of whin in the distance. Then houses, camps, and khaki, strings of camels led by natives in long white robes. We had struck the Canal; tramp steamers were passing through, and numbers of native boats were moored to the edges. Along the Canal were armed men, field guns studded about, and on the other side bigger guns in emplacements. The railway from Kantara to Port Said runs along the west bank, and within a few yards of the water's edge, and along this bank trees and shrubs form one continuous thicket.
We had much shunting on reaching Port Said before we got the train alongside the docks, amidst the awful shrieking of our most unmusical engine whistle. The Egyptian is notorious for his love of this fiendish noise, one blast is never sufficient at any time, but he gives shriek after shriek till you feel inclined to kick him off his engine.
We boarded one of the old Gallipoli lighters which were specially built for the landing, and were delivered three months after that event. This took us out to the "Lake Manitoba," an old tub that could barely do ten knots. As we drew up to the ship some one away aloft shouted, "Three cheers for Captain Davidson," which call was heartily replied to, and on looking up I found a lot of our men leaning over the rail and waving their helmets. I felt at home again on recognising this as Sergeant Stewart's voice and seeing "kent faces". On ascending the gangway, McLean and Russell gave me a warm reception. These are the only two officers remaining of the nine I left behind at Suvla in November last. Colonel Bell was soon found when I got another hearty handshake. He had heard of my arrival at Alexandria some days ago, through Colonel Humphreys, P.M.O. of the "Transylvania," who, being home on ordinary leave, had gone straight to Suez, and he said he had been wondering how he was to get a hold of me. Our new officers are mostly Scotch. The N.C.O.'s and many of the men I have had a talk with, and I am proud to find they are pleased to have me back among them, and I am just as glad to see them; the dangers we have come through together will always be a link between us. Sergeant Gilbert said the men had given me a ringing cheer at Suez when they heard I was in "Alex.". The men are looking extremely well, totally different from what they were when I left them. They are fat and bronzed, and say they feel very fit. They have had next to nothing to do since the evacuation in December, since when they have been stationed at Lemnos, Alexandria, and Suez.
March 19th.—We still lie at Port Said. At first the delay was said to be due to our waiting to have a big gun mounted at our stern, but this operation was finished in the morning, and now at 2 p.m. there is no sign of our moving. We have at least a dozen ladies and children on board, the impedimenta of officers returning from India.
March 20th.—We left last night after dark. The precautions against attack are very slack on this boat. There is of course a man in the crow's nest, but the submarine guard practically does not exist, the men pile their arms and wander about as they like. They are certainly particular about showing light after dark; by 6 p.m. all port-holes are closed, and every cabin has its iron deadlight down. After 7 o'clock dinner all the electric lights in the whole ship are switched off, which is quite unnecessary; on the "Transylvania" we got absolute darkness without such drastic measures. You have to go to bed in the dark, no candles being allowed, the only lights being an oily lamp in the smoking-room, and one in each long passage.
We have had a stiff gale most of the day, with waves washing over our foredeck. Although we pitch badly I was never in a ship that rolled so little.
March 21st.—A beautiful day with the sea like a mill pond. In the morning a destroyer was seen astern, convoying a large transport. They forged along till they came abreast of us where the ship remained, the destroyer going some distance ahead and keeping there for the afternoon. Towards evening we had five other ships in sight.
March 23rd.—The M.O. of the ship has just told me as a great secret that the "Minneapolis" was torpedoed two hours ago, at a spot we crossed yesterday about 10 p.m. He also says we have had a bad reverse in France—another absolute secret, and I had to promise not to breathe a word before my informant would tell me the news.