The ship that was set on fire yesterday lost practically all the hay in the forward hold. Consequently, for some time our poor little Indian mules will be on half rations. Destroyer has now broken her back and is a total wreck, waves breaking over her. Rain is beginning now. We had a few showers this morning. A little shelling in the morning, but the afternoon was quiet. Go up to Brigade H.Q. with the new Transport Officer, Hunt. Find conference on, so McLaughlin and Morris entertain us to tea. Have to make detour through flat wooded country, getting to and from H.Q., on account of this beastly new battery. Very quiet this afternoon; no shelling, and hardly any rifle fire. Hunt remarked, coming back, that it was a nice country walk, and reminded him of his homestead in Tipperary. He has been at Blackheath for the last six months at Headquarters at the Ranger’s Lodge, and left there only three weeks ago, so I like getting him to talk about Blackheath, which I knew so well. I have been on this place so long now, that a new-comer has only to mention about riding on a tramcar or going into a cakeshop, when I am held thrilled with interest and pleasure.
November 5th.
A beautiful, cool summer day. Shelled at ten this morning for quite an hour. The destroyer has now completely broken her back, and her stern has disappeared. The Turks discovered the mishap, but they could not see that she is a wreck, as she is “bows on” to the Turkish position. Thinking, therefore, that the destroyer was still intact, though stuck on the ground, they attempted to finish her off, and for three hours shelled her. They only recorded two hits, however, and it was satisfactory to see old Turk wasting his ammunition. To-day another old friend has gone. He is Way, the 86th Supply Officer, who has been here since April 25th without ever going sick. He felt rather dicky two days ago, and was told to stay in his dugout, and to-day I find he has developed diphtheria badly. He tries not to go, but a doctor soon settles that. I shall now feel more lonely than ever, for we were great pals, and our walks to our respective H.Q. were among the few pleasures that I could look forward to. When casualties occurred at his dump he was always there to attend to the wounded, and as S.O. the 86th Brigade will miss him. I wonder how many of the old 29th are left. Well, Way is for Blighty, and good luck to him. But diphtheria is a nasty illness, and I hope he pulls through.
November 6th.
Walker has gone off permanently to hospital with jaundice, and Hunt and myself are left on our own.
Beautiful summer day, to-day. Turk very quiet and hardly any shelling. Swiftsure back, and the Canopus and Prince George busy shelling Turkish positions this afternoon.
November 7th.
Another beautiful summer day. Turks shelled our valley at ten and again at three. No damage, though some were uncomfortably close to us. Our ships and shore batteries fairly busy. Monitors busy at night.
November 8th.
A cool, lovely day. Flies are dying rapidly—the best news to record for a long time. Two new A.S.C. officers arrive to join us, named Matthews and Elphinstone. Very few shells this morning, but they come very near our dugout this time. Cox, of the Essex, comes in for a chat, the only original officer now left of that regiment. I walk back with him to Brigade H.Q., and Matthews comes with me. Walking across the flat space just leading to the 86th Brigade H.Q., I point out to Matthews the lines of light-brown earth running up the slopes of the hill on our left front, and he hardly believes me when I tell him one line is Turkish. Like all who newly arrive, he is surprised at the short walk from the beach to the line. Our batteries are dusting the Turkish line with shrapnel, and their batteries are retaliating. They make very good shooting on both sides, as, of course, they have all ranges registered to a nicety. We call at both Brigades, and have tea at each. Coming away, Matthews tells me that he is of a retiring disposition, and that he does not like being thrown suddenly into new society, and that two tea-parties is more than his nerves can stand, more especially when a General is present at each.