"It must be fully a month since I wrote you but no one understands better than you must do, how time flies under the constant strain of these night and day excursions and alarms. Between the two letters there has been a desperate lot of fighting, mostly bomb and bayonet work, and, except for a good many Turks gone to glory, there is only a few hundred yards of ground to show for it all at Anzac, and about a mile perhaps in the southern part of the Peninsula. But taking a wider point of view, I hope our losses and efforts have gained a good deal for our cause although they may not be so measurable in yards. First, the Turks are defending themselves instead of attacking Egypt and over-running Basra; secondly, we are told on high authority, that the action of the Italians in coming in was precipitated by our entry into this part of the theatre; thirdly, if we can only hold on and continue to enfeeble the Turks, I think myself it will not be very long before some of the Balkan States take the bloody plunge.
"However all that may be, we must be prepared at the worst to win through by ourselves, and it is, I assure you, a tough proposition. In a manœuvre battle of old style our fellows here would beat twice their number of Turks in less than no time, but, actually, the restricted Peninsula suits the Turkish tactics to a 'T.' They have always been good at trench work where their stupid men have only simple, straightforward duties to perform, namely, in sticking on and shooting anything that comes up to them. They do this to perfection; I never saw braver soldiers, in fact, than some of the best of them. When we advance, no matter the shelling we give them, they stand right up firing coolly and straight over their parapets. Also they have unlimited supplies of bombs, each soldier carrying them, and they are not half bad at throwing them. Meanwhile they are piling up a lot of heavy artillery of very long range on the Asiatic shore, and shell us like the devil with 4.5, 6-inch, 8, 9.2 and 10-inch guns—not pleasant. This necessitates a very tough type of man for senior billets. X—Y—, for instance, did not last 24 hours. Everyone here is under fire, and really and truly the front trenches are safer, or at least fully as safe, as the Corps Commander's dugout. For, if the former are nearer the Infantry, the latter is nearer the big guns firing into our rear.
"Another reason why we advance so slowly and lose so much is that the enemy get constant reinforcements. We have overcome three successive armies of Turks, and a new lot of 20,000 from Syria are arriving here now, with 14 more heavy guns, so prisoners say, but I hope not.
"I have fine Corps Commanders in Birdwood, Hunter-Weston and Gouraud. This is very fortunate. Who is to be Commander of the new corps I cannot say, but we have one or two terrifying suggestions from home.
"Last night a brisk attack headed by a senior Turkish Officer and a German Officer was made on the 86th Brigade. Both these Officers were killed and 20 or 30 of their men, the attack being repulsed. Against the South Wales Borderers a much heavier attack was launched. Our fellows were bombed clean out of their trenches, but only fell back 30 yards and dug in. This morning early we got maxims on to each end of the place they had stormed, and then the Dublins retook it with the bayonet. Two hundred of their dead were left in the trench, and we only had 50 casualties—not so bad! A little later on in the day a d——d submarine appeared and had some shots at our transports and store ships. Luckily she missed, but all our landing operations of supplies were suspended. These are the sort of daily anxieties. All one can do is to carry on with determination and trust in providence.
"I hope you are feeling fit and that things are going on well generally. Give my salaams to the great Robertson, also to Barry. Otherwise please treat this letter as private. With all kind remembrance.
"Believe me,
"Yours very sincerely,
"(Sd.) Ian Hamilton."