8 p.m.
A quiet day. Rumour that we are to expect asphyxiating gas dodge, and that we are going to have respirators served out. Unfortunately, the prevailing wind is down the Peninsula and in our faces, and we are barely four miles from the Turkish trenches. Beautiful evening, and the sun setting behind Imbros is making most exquisite colouring.
June 23rd, 10.30 a.m.
Turks very quiet. French “75’s” now and again firing. Very hot, fine day. Rode last night to Gully Beach with Carver, round by road on cliffs on “W” coast. Beautiful moonlight night. Wagons trekking up and down, and now and again a sentry challenges with his bayonet pointed to the breasts of our horses, which we rein in, at the same time shouting “Friend,” answered by “Pass, friend; all’s well.” I should like to feel that it really was “all well.”
Enemy aircraft brought down yesterday, falling in Turkish lines.
French losses in recent battle, 2,000.
To-night I ride again with Carver to Gully Beach, which is now the home of the 29th Division H.Q.
The steep cliffs on either side of the gully are honeycombed with dugouts, each with a little light shining, and in the declining light, with the moon hanging overhead, shining on the sea, it is a very beautiful sight. We had a topping ride back along the road on the edge of the cliff overlooking the calm sea, lit up by silver moonlight. We could see quite plainly enough to canter, and cantering by moonlight in such beautiful surroundings is a unique pleasure.
June 24th.
To-day has been very hot and arid, very fine, and the sea dead calm, but artillery duels have been going on all day.