"Yes, sir," I answered.
"They've made it pretty warm for you since you've been here," he added, with a smile. "Your men are most efficient trench diggers. If I had an army like them, we'd dig our way to Constantinople." With that he passed on with a smile. A pompous-looking sergeant brought up the rear of the general's escort.
Landing British troops from the transports at the Dardanelles under the protection of the battleships[ToList]
"Who was that, that just spoke to us, Sergeant?" I asked.
The sergeant surveyed me contemptuously. "Is it possible that you don't know 'im. 'E's General Sir Ian Hamilton, General Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Force, 'e is."
General Sir Ian Hamilton has won the unquestioned devotion of the First Newfoundland Regiment. Many times after that, he visited the front line trenches and stopped to exchange a few words with men here and there. It is a curious thing that while the young subaltern lieutenants held themselves very much aloof, the senior officers chatted amiably with our men. The Newfoundlanders, democratic to the core, hated anything that in the least savored of "side," and they admired the courage of a general officer who took his chances in the firing line.
Art was waiting for me when I reached the dugout after my ammunition fatigue. I accompanied him down the mule path that led along the edge of the Salt Lake to West Beach, where we had made our landing the first night. The place looked very different now. Under the shelter of the beetling cliffs, the engineers had constructed dugouts of all sorts. The beach was piled high with boxes of beef, biscuits, jam, lime juice, and rum. At the top of the hill, a temporary dressing station for the wounded had been built; and nearer the beach was a clearing station, from which the wounded were taken by motor ambulance to the hospital ship. At different points along the beach, piers had been built for the landing of supplies and troops, and for the loading of wounded into lighters to be taken to the hospital ships waiting out in deeper water. The Australians had put up a wire fence around a part of beach and used it for a graveyard. We found the man in charge of the kit bags of the Newfoundlanders, and after much search located Art's bag, and took out the stuff we wanted. On the way back, in a little ravine just on the edge of the Salt Lake, we came upon two horsemen. They were General Hamilton and his aide. The general returned our salute smilingly.
"Who is it?" said Art.