September 25th.
A quiet day; just the usual artillery duels, no shells coming our way. Walked up to Brigade H.Q. in the evening. Battalion of the London Regiment joins Brigade. Lovely moonlight night. Rather a lot of firing on our front, and bullets a bit free. Meet Stewart and Lachard at Brigade, Stewart having come to relieve Lachard, who is going back to Helles. Walked back together. A bright flash from the Swiftsure in the bay denotes that she has fired one of her big guns, and a few seconds after a loud report is heard, and the rumble of a shell as it passed over Sari Bair on to “somewhere” goes on for a long time before one hears the distant report of its burst. I hear the sound of propellers overhead, and think I can see the airship from Imbros sailing over towards Anafarta. The Swiftsure fires once more, and then all is quiet for an hour. Then a Turkish battery puts a shell over to us, and follows this up with one every ten minutes, continuing for an hour!
September 26th.
Awakened in the morning by the 5·9 shrapnel coming over and bursting overhead, and we are subjected to an hour of it. None of our men hit, but about four mules hit. A beautiful day and sea calm; work of unloading stores proceeds apace. Artillery duels, but no shells come our way till four, when one shell bursts uncomfortably near. One feels a bit shaky for an hour after such an event, but we have got to stick it.
September 27th.
A very fine day, but a trifle hot; the flies seem to be swarming more than ever, and they are a great plague. Usual artillery duel from the batteries on shore and the Fleet in the bay. Seeing a lot of Arthur McDougall now, an awfully nice boy in Middlesex Yeomanry. Hear that O’Hara, our D.A.Q.M.G., is leaving the Division. All of us very sorry to lose him. Has got a lieutenant-colonelcy at G.H.Q., and deserves the push up. At 7.30 p.m. a burst of rifle fire started at Chocolate Hill. All the batteries on shore took it up; the warships in the bay joined in—battleships and Monitors and the like—and such an infernal din is now heard that the whole Peninsula seems to shake, and the evening sky is studded with innumerable flashes, right away to Anzac and beyond. It is very impressive, and lasts for an hour and a half. It turned out to be all panic. There has been good news of the French in Champagne; somebody in the trenches cheered—everybody else let his rifle off—and then the whole pandemonium started! The Turk never replied at all, and there was no attack; the moon shining peacefully above must have smiled at the folly of man this night!
Go up to Brigade with Carver and Stewart. Moonlight night, the bay looking beautiful and quite enjoyable, except over the bullet-swept area. Called at 86th H.Q. on the way back, and picked up Way, and had a chat with Thomson, who had just come back from staying at Athens for a few days.
September 28th.
Wood, of the Essex Regiment, comes in early, and I give him a bed and breakfast and have a long chat about life here. Has just come back from a month’s leave. Now has his majority. Get up to see O’Hara off. Peaceful morning; beaches represent hives of industry. Engineers busy making a pier out of a sunken ship, their hammers reminding one of the happy days of civilian life in the work towns of the North and Centre of England. An Indian shepherd is guarding his flock of sheep (destined to be slaughtered for the Indian troops) in front of our dugout on the slopes of the hill, while the distant roar of guns can be heard further south. Cooke arrives from Helles to join us. Hear that Collier is leaving us, so that we are now without a major or a colonel. Go up to H.Q. in car at nine, with a London Regiment officer and Arthur McDougall. Very bumpy ride. Find Stewart there. A bullet has knocked Stewart’s hat off, but he does not seem to be upset much, and when he gets back just calmly sews up the two burnt holes. Getting water up to troops still entailing a lot of worry and work. The water is pumped from lighters through a pipe which dips into the sea. Yesterday water was very salt, as sea-water had got in. Was very ill in the night through this. Called up in night as water-carts had gone to wrong place and a further supply had to be sent up. This water business is the worst of all. All the animals have to be taken down to water at the usual times. A Transport Officer from the depot here, who has been down to see me once or twice on business, has told me that in his opinion the most trying duty of all is seeing the animals watered. The troughs are in full sight of the Turkish gunners, and the long lines of dust emerging from the transport gully give the clue. He tells me that this is when he gets jumpy. Absolutely in the open—water trickling into the troughs slowly—and he has to stand and see that every beast has enough. Then the shelling starts—mules fall, but still the others must have their fill and not be hurried, and it seems like hours, and some of the beasts all unconscious—appearing as if they will never finish. It must be a merry job—and it has to be done three times a day. An officer has to be present, or the overwhelming temptation to hurry up and get off becomes too much for the men, and no wonder!