Some platoons were employed on the engineer, ordnance, and supply dumps. Others assisted in unloading lighters at the piers and transferring loads from storeships into lighters. Generally the work was without incident except for occasional casualties from "Beachy Bill," which from the Olive Grove sprayed the beach with its shrapnel. The great storm of November 27th was, however, productive of some experiences of interest and not without danger. Several of the ships upon which the men were working had to make for shelter—refuge being taken at Suvla, Imbros, and even as far away as Lemnos. To this latter place went Lieut. T. O. Nicholls and his team, who found themselves on a craft that dragged her anchors and was short of water and stores. Fourteen days elapsed before they were able to return to Anzac. Those who suffered from sea-sickness certainly did not enjoy these involuntary trips.
At 5 p.m. on the day of the storm, all hands and the cook were summoned to Anzac Cove for salvage work. On arrival it was found that the piers had been washed away. Big baulks of timber were being thrown about by the sea, in a most disconcerting manner, amongst all sorts of stores. The first duty assigned the party by the Beach Commandant was to restore some semblance of order amongst the members of a certain Labour Corps who had run wild. This was achieved in an expeditious though somewhat violent manner. The next duty was salvaging amongst the flotsam and jetsam which, with the timber charging about and the water at a very low temperature, was a decidedly unpleasant task. Night put a stop to the operations, and the Beach Commandant congratulated the party on the work done. This officer was no lover of the "Aussies," owing—so rumour had it—to some of them "pinching" his fattening fowls, but on this occasion he contributed, voluntarily, a double issue of rum—an act which was undoubtedly popular and timely.
Speech, accent, and manner counted for a good deal when working in conjunction with British troops. An incident which illustrates this occurred in connection with a fatigue party which was required by the British Army Service Corps for night work on the beach. This party was commanded by an officer who possessed neither size in stature or feature in voice. His second-in-command was a corporal with very marked characteristics. With the N.C.O. in rear the two set out for the A.S.C. dugout, at the entrance to which the officer announced his arrival. The A.S.C. officer emerged into the night and asked the question "Where have you got your men?" The corporal gave the answer in his deepest stentorian tones and with faultless accent, "They are anchored just abaft the stack of Fray Bentos." The "Tommy" officer immediately came over towards him and remarked, "Oh! I'm sorry, Old Chappie, I didn't know there was an officer here, I thought this little N.C.O. was in charge of the party." The corporal wasn't quite clear as to what followed, but had a distinct recollection of receiving an order in good Australian, "Corporal! Go back and bring the men along to the cheese stack, at once!"
From the Beach, where men of all units met, came the daily crop of "furphies" or rumours. Some of these, it was suspected, were set going by the Intelligence Section of the General Staff, but many of them were the deliberate creation of a few people with a rather perverted sense of humour. Others developed from the chance remark of some individual speculating on what might be, or what he hoped would be. The "Anzac Liar," as the unknown person was designated, dealt with many subjects, from an advance to a retirement, from the landing of a Greek or Italian Army Corps on the north to the forcing of the Straits by the Navy. This last, it was said, was to be achieved by the 2nd November, and the sailors were prepared to make handsome bets on it. With experience the ordinary soldier came to regard this news as a topic for conversation only, remaining incredulous and accepting actual facts with the best grace possible in view of his rapidly developing fatalistic spirit.
The Beach was also the hunting ground of those who sought to improve their lot. One night a well-known Signaller, a noted hunter with an eagle eye, observed a case of rum—for the moment unattended. The situation obviously required action and P——possessed the necessary initiative. Five seconds later he was being pursued down the Beach. After successfully losing his pursuers he humped the case to Russell's Top and opened it before a crowd of thirsty and expectant Signallers—to find that it was lime juice. In the opinion of the Section this incident was the one black spot in P—— s long career of usefulness.
Authentic news from the outside world came from two or three different sources. General Headquarters at Imbros issued a weekly sheet, entitled the "Peninsula Press," which published notes on the doings on other fronts and gave alarming accounts of the winter conditions on Gallipoli. The Navy had, apparently, their own sources of information, for signallers would often gather items of interest by watching the flashing of the helios by day or the blinking of the signal lamps by night. Then there were the mails. In this, as well as in many other respects, the army treated the soldiers well. Mails came at irregular intervals, but never more than three weeks elapsed without bringing the ever-welcome letter and newspaper from Australia. The 28th mail comprised a large portion of that for the whole brigade. Some of the members would receive as many as 13 or 14 letters each.
Parcels also came to hand. These contained a great diversity of articles, ranging from woollen goods to chewing gum and safety pins.
The Battalion Postal Orderly, Private J. H. Mann, was most conscientious and energetic in his work. He usually installed himself in some dugout away from the company lines and where he had room to cope with his thousands of packets. When the Battalion moved, new quarters were necessary, and Mann was sometimes seen, bared to the waist, working hard with pick and shovel in the excavation of a new post office. Sometimes ill fortune befell the mails. Twice during the November storms lighters containing hundreds of bags were swamped and sunk. One of these was carrying the outward Christmas mail and disappeared within sight of the beach.
As a rule letters for Australia were despatched once weekly and, in spite of the local distractions, many found ample opportunities for writing home. A few wrote with an eye to the publication of their letters in their town Press. When these newspapers were subsequently received by the Battalion, the scribes came in for a good deal of chaff. Private E. St. I. Bilston of "C" Company made little essays into verse—some of the results appearing in the Perth and Kalgoorlie Sunday papers. At times writing paper was very scarce, and the New Zealand Divisional Sanitary Officer complained that he was unable to continue certain necessary issues because the supplies were disappearing into the mail bags. In November, a case of stationery was received by the Battalion. This was the result of the kind and thoughtful action of Mrs. Lohoar of Fremantle, who had arranged a "Stationery Tea" amongst her friends.
The attention of the men in the firing line was by no means always centred on the imminence of danger. Except during actual bombardments, or when on sentry, they had some leisure, which was filled by diversions of various kinds. Sleep—when possible, letter writing, and card playing, passed many hours pleasantly away. Those in the reserve areas found other amusements, in which figured largely the games of "Banker" and "Two-up," upon which had been placed an official taboo. In the hollows and gullies groups of men were often noticed, and the observer would see the faces momentarily turned towards the sky and then towards the earth again—actions denoting interested eyes following the flight of the spinning coins. Some men brought considerable sums of money to their officers for safe custody. A good deal of this the owners subsequently remitted to their homes.