The cable took some doing but got it off my chest by mid-day and then sailed with Ellison, Braithwaite and Val by the Arno to Suvla. We landed this time on Lala Baba instead of at our usual Ghazi Baba. Every five minutes the Turks plumped one six-incher on to the beach. But nobody now seems to mind. A lot of Generals present; Byng, Mahon, Marshall, Maude and Peyton. Mahon took me up to the top of Lala Baba and showed me the disposition of his division. He kindly asked us all to tea at his Headquarters but as someone added that Ashmead-Bartlett was going to take a cinema photo of the scene I thought I would not be thus immortalized. The Scottish Horse were bivouacking on the beach; they have just landed but already they have lost a member or two of their Mess from shell fire. No wonder they looked a little bewildered, but soon they will shake down. When we got back to the Arno we found she had been hit by shrapnel, but no damage.
Things at Suvla are pulling together. No one gave me more confidence than Maude. His mind travels beyond the needs of the moment. He is firmly convinced that no very out-of-the-way effort by the Allies is needed to score a big point in the War Game and that our hold-up here is not a reality but only a hold-up or petrefaction of the brains of the French and of our Dardanelles Committee. I longed to tell him he was doing them both, especially the French, an injustice, and that four splendid divisions were as good as on their way, but I had to content myself with saying to him and to all the Generals that I was overjoyed at a piece of news received yesterday.
4th September, 1915. Imbros. Life would be as ditchwater were it not stirred to its depths by K.'s secret cable. Sailed over with Freddie at 11.30 to "K" Beach and inspected the 88th Brigade. Had given orders to the Arno to stand by and to take me over to Anzac in the afternoon, but the weather was so bad that I could not get off to her in the motor boat.
At 7.15 p.m. the V.A. sent his picket boat for me and Freddie and I went on board the Triad. At 10 p.m. she started for Mudros.
5th September, 1915. H.M.S. "Triad." Mudros. Anchored at Mudros at 6 a.m. Breakfast over, was met by Altham, Colonel McMunn and Captain Stephens who took me ashore. There I met Lindley, now commanding the troops on the island; also General Legge (commanding the 2nd Australian Division); Lord Dudley and Colonel Forster. Lindley seems pleased at having been given this command; says he feels like a man out hunting who has a bad fall but alights on his feet, and Altham tells me he is doing the work very well. Dudley, too, seemed full of business and contented with his lot.
The moment I got through the reception stunt I set myself to work like a nigger at the Red Cross stunt:—that's how people talk now-a-days. Saw the 15th Stationary Hospital; the 110th Indian Field Ambulance; "C" Section of No. 24 British Indian Hospital; ate a hearty lunch; inspected 1st Australian Stationary Hospital. Walking round a Hospital and seeing whether things are clean and bright is a treat but trying to cheer people up and give a fillip to all good works—that implies an expenditure of something vital and leaves a man, after a few hours, feeling the worse for wear.
By 4.45 the day's task was well over so refreshed myself by some right soldier business reviewing the 4th Gurkhas under Major Tillard—a superb battalion—1,000 strong!!! Had forgotten what a full battalion looks like. At 5.45 wound up by inspecting a huge Convalescent Depot under Colonel Forde and got back to the Triad just in time for dinner. Wemyss dined also.
6th September, 1915. H.M.S. "Triad." Mudros. After breakfast sailed over to Mudros West; Lindley met me, also a host of doctors. Walked to No. 3 Australian Hospital with an old acquaintance whose Italian name slips my memory at the moment; then to No. 2 Australian Stationary Hospital; then to Convalescent Depot of Lowland Division. At 12.30 ran down to my launch and was swiftly conveyed to lunch on board the Europa with Admiral Wemyss. Such a lunch as a lost voyager may dream of in the desert. Like roses blooming in a snowdrift, so puffs and pies and kickshaws of all rarest sorts appeared upon a dazzling white tablecloth, and then—disappeared. We too had to disappear and sail back to Mudros West again. Horses were waiting and I rode to No. 18 Stationary Hospital and made a thorough overhaul of it from end to end; then tea with the Officers of No. 1. In No. 3 Australian General were eighty nurses; in No. 3 Canadian Stationary seven nurses; in No. 1 Canadian Stationary twenty-four nurses. Since Lady Brassey descended in some miraculous manner upon Imbros, they were the first white women I had seen for six months. Their pretty faces were a refreshing sight: a capable crowd too: all these Hospitals were in good order, but the sick and wounded in charge of the girls looked the happiest—and no wonder. The Canadian Medicos are fresh from France and discoursed about moral. Never a day passed, so they said, in France, but some patient would, with tears in his eyes, entreat to be sent home. Here at Mudros there had never been one single instance. The patients, if they said anything at all, have showed impatience to get back to their comrades in the fighting line. We discussed this mystery at tea and no one could make head or tail of it. In France the men got a change; are pulled out of the trenches; can go to cafes; meet young ladies; get drinks and generally have a good time. On the Peninsula they are never safe for one moment (whether they are supposed to be resting or are in the firing line) from having their heads knocked off by a shell.
Returned to the Triad in time for dinner.
Admiral vexed as his motor boat has gone ashore. Bowlby is with it trying to get it off.