It was many months before he returned in safety to Alexandria, and by that time bombardments had become so common that they had ceased to terrify.
On the 2nd June, I was returning with Claude Rolo from an expedition which we had made to the Gurkha trenches on the extreme left of the line. Before we had got very far on our way heavy howitzers began to bombard the Turks, and as we were just then passing an artillery observation post, hidden away in a cross trench, we turned aside and went into it. From here we could see our high explosive shells bursting with terrific effect on the Turkish trench, which was only about three hundred yards away. The Artillery Observation Officer telephoned back to the guns the result of each shot, and under his guidance the shells soon battered down the earthworks, pulverising everything where they fell. Soon, however, some sharp-eyed Turkish gunner spotted our observation post and began to plug at us pretty rapidly. Shells hopped off the parapet, shrapnel struck the steel shield, fuses and fragments of all kinds thudded into the bank behind our backs, and we seemed for the moment to be living in a little tornado of lead and iron. When this had continued for a few minutes, I remarked to the gunner man: "What on earth are the Turks trying to hit?" "Hit us, of course," he somewhat shortly replied.
Now, so long as we remained here in the deep trench we were comparatively safe, but as I wanted to get back to camp, I thought I would pull the gunner's leg before leaving him; he had no idea who we were, for we were in our shirt sleeves as usual, so I pretended to be thoroughly scared, and said: "Good heavens, this is no place for me!" on which he smiled the smile of a brave man who feels pity for a poltroon. There were some twenty yards or so of open ground to be covered the moment we left the shelter of the observation post, and, of course, this was a really dangerous strip, because it was exposed to the fire of the Turks, and had therefore to be covered at top speed. The only way of accomplishing this in safety was to do it in between the shells, and as there was only a couple of seconds between each, the plunge out had to be made the instant one burst, so as to be under cover before the next arrived. Warning Rolo to follow me after the next explosion, out we darted. We had almost reached safety when I heard coming after us the scream of an approaching shell. I shouted out to Rolo, "Jump for your life!" and at the same time threw myself down, and the last thing I saw, amid the dust kicked up by the shower of shrapnel bullets, was Rolo plunging head foremost into a ditch, as if he were taking a dive!
We were neither of us hurt, but a stone thrown up by the shell struck me on the hand and drew a little blood. We both congratulated ourselves on our lucky escape and got back to camp with whole skins, none the worse for our close shave.
CHAPTER XVI
THE COMING OF THE GERMAN SUBMARINES
In our nightly journeys back from the trenches we were always guided through the darkness to our camp by the brilliant glare of the lights from the warships, hospital ships and transports, which lay thickly clustered round Cape Helles. It was a most beautiful sight, like a veritable floating Venice, but it was not practical and it was not war. It showed an arrogance and utter contempt of the enemy who was, at that very moment, stealthily stalking them under the seas with the deadly submarine.
At all events, the submarines came, with the result that the battleships Goliath and Triumph were sunk with appalling swiftness and great loss of life.