The Royal Irish Fusiliers and Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers had not got back on board ship by the time I was ready for them, so I hurried off by motor launch to a landing in another part of the Bay and, walking through a village, caught them resting by their piled arms after a route march. All of these men looked very well and cheery. The villagers were most friendly and had turned out in numbers, bringing presents of flowers and fruit. Not more than 60 per cent. of the men are Irish, the rest being either North of England miners or from Somerset.
In the evening, crossed the glassy bay and motored to pay a double-barrelled visit to the Military and Civil Governors. Topping the watershed, yet another pleasure shock. Through the sea haze Mitylene shines out like an iridescent bubble of light. Never had I seen anything so vivid in its colour and setting as this very ancient, very small, very brilliant city of Mitylene. Rio de Janeiro, Sydney, the Golden Horn are sprawling daubs to flawless Mitylene.
Hesketh Smith and Compton Mackenzie were with us. The Governors very polite. The soldier man is a Cretan and seemed a good sort. We took tea at the Hotel and then made our way back to the Chatham. Found messages from G.H.Q. to say all's well and stuff being smuggled in without hitch at Anzac. At 7 p.m. we sailed for Imbros; a breeze from the West whipping up little waves into cover for enemy periscopes. So the moment we left the harbour we took on a corkscrew course, dodging and twisting like snipe in an Irish bog, to avoid winding up our trip in the dark belly of a German submarine. Soon emerged from the sea a huge piled up white cloud, white and clear cut at first as the breast of a swan upon a blue lake, slowly turning to deep rose colour flecked here and there with gold. As it swallowed up the last lingering colours of the sunset, the world grew grey, then black, and we were, humanly speaking, safe.
3rd August, 1915. Imbros. Anchored at Imbros roadstead 5.30 a.m. Braithwaite not up yet so Altham got first innings about transport and supply.
Next the G.S. All our preliminaries are working on quite smoothly towards the climax and, so far, it seems likely the Turks have no notion of the scheme.
Girodon steamed over from Helles to see me and went back again in the evening. He is the mirror of French chivalry, modesty and good form, besides being an extraordinary fine soldier.
The 33rd Brigade, sent by me to gain wisdom at Helles, have now been brought here so that the whole 11th Division can start off together.
Just as the peculiar foggy air of Lancashire is essential to the weaving of the finer sorts of tissues, so an atmosphere of misunderstandings would really seem to suit the War Office.
In the cable telling me I would have 205,000 troops for my push, the S. of S. had informed me categorically that the 8,500 Yeomanry and mounted troops in Egypt, as well as 11,500 Indian troops and the Artillery stationed there were mine.
As the present garrison of Egypt numbers over 70,000 and as the old peace garrison of Egypt was 5,000 and as, further, there is no question of serious attack on Egypt from outside, it seemed to us there might be men in this part of the message. Leaving the Indian troops out of the account, for the moment, I therefore wired to Maxwell and asked him if he thought he would be able to organize a portion of the 8,500 mounted men, in order that, at a pinch, they might be able to come and reinforce us here. So the matter stood when I got another cable from the S. of S. telling me 5,000 drafts are "en route or under orders" to join the 29th Division and that the War Office are "unable to carry out your views about additional marginal drafts." S. of S. then goes on:—