Gye, Rolo and I were returning from one of these trench fights in mid-October, when we ourselves nearly got "strafed" at Clapham Junction, a well-known spot behind the firing line on our right centre. Our mortars, borrowed from the French, had thoroughly annoyed the Turks and they retaliated by bombarding our trenches with shell-fire. We were pretty safe so long as we remained under cover, but on the way back to camp we caught it rather badly and only saved ourselves by our speedy flight over an exposed piece of ground which we had to cross, where the shells were falling pretty thickly.
BADGE OF THE ZION MULE CORPS (The Shield of David)
One of the most annoying things the Turks did was to mount a big naval gun "somewhere in Asia" not far from Troy—as distances go in Asia. This fiendish weapon had such a high velocity that the shell arrived on us before the report of the gun was heard. The sensation of hearing the shell screaming a few feet over one's head was most unpleasant, and we all looked for the moment that the big French guns in our lines would begin to shoot, as things were very disagreeable for us while "Helen" was in action. This gun was altogether so troublesome that we had christened it "Helen of Troy."
Fortunately, only about one in four of its shells burst, otherwise we should have suffered very heavily, because many of them fell in and around our lines. My men would calmly pick up these unexploded shells and struggle off with them on their shoulders to adorn the entrance of their dug-outs! This used to horrify the French gunners, who were close by and knew the danger of touching such dangerous toys. I am afraid my Zionists thought me somewhat of a tyrant for abolishing these æsthetic aids to the beautification of their subterranean homes!
Now and again, just as a reminder of the rigours to come, we were deluged by a downpour of rain, and then life in the trenches was almost unbearable, for, owing to the subsoil being clay, all the water ran on the surface and speedily filled up every trench, dug-out and hollow; and this discomfort, coupled with mud, filth, too little food and sleep, and too much shells and bombs, made life in Gallipoli more fit for a dog than a man.
As the cold weather was coming on, I determined to build a good stone house for my men, where there would always be a big fire going to keep them warm and to dry their clothes when they came back wet from the trenches. As it was not in our zone, I had to get the permission of the Chief Engineer of the French Army to take some stones from Sedd-el-Bahr village, because it was only there that building material could be obtained. While we were pulling down a house and excavating the foundation, we dug up a slab of marble with a beautiful filigree design carved round the outer edge of it, and in the centre, strange to say, was the Shield of David! The stone must have been very, very old, and how it got there is a mystery. Perhaps it may have been taken from Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem.
My Zion men were delighted at the find and brought the stone in triumph to our camp, and it was kept in the new house as a talisman to ward off the shells. Strange to say, although they fell all round, the building was never touched nor was any one injured in its vicinity.
Our own dug-out was also greatly improved when the weather became bitterly cold. We made the fireplace and chimney-stack out of old kerosene tins, which made a kind of brasier on which we burned charcoal obtained from the refuse heap at the Field Bakery. Altogether, our dug-out was considered to be the cosiest one in the whole Peninsula, as indeed it had every right to be, for was not Claude Rolo, who was our architect and engineer, one of the cleverest civil engineers that ever passed through the Polytechnic in Paris?
Our charcoal fire was very useful in many ways; it made very good toast, for the bread, which up to now had been excellent, began to be sodden owing to the bakery being in the open and, of course, getting the full benefit of all the rain that often came down in torrents; and in addition to the rain the unfortunate bakers were at all times under shell-fire. Although the bread was not up to the usual standard after the rains set in, yet in the whole history of war I do not believe that men and animals have ever been better fed than were the troops, horses and mules during the whole time we were on the Peninsula. The variety of food might perhaps have been bettered, but the quality and quantity on the whole were excellent and reflected the greatest credit on the organisation of the Army Service Corps; in fact, it was the only department where one could say all the time—it had done well. The Ordnance failed at times—failed lamentably in the supply of high explosives for the guns, but this was through no fault of the ordnance officer on the spot, who, I know, took every precaution to ask for every conceivable article months before it was required. Of course, he did sometimes get the needed articles, and sometimes, when it was on its way, submarines would sink the ship, or the ordnance people said the ship was sunk, which amounted to the same thing and covered a multitude of sins. Those submarines saved many reputations! All the sapper supplies, however, might just as well have been sunk, as it was impossible to get the smallest scrap of material, no matter how urgently required, without the most minute details as to what it was for and all about it. There was any amount of stuff one wanted in the Field Park, but when application was made for it the invariable reply was, "It is earmarked for other purposes."