The smell of dead bodies and horses is attracting the unwelcome attentions of vultures from Asia. They are evil-looking birds, with ugly heads and enormous wings, and circle round and round overhead. Sometimes Tommies pot at them with their rifles, but get into trouble for doing so.
The smell of dead bodies is at times almost unbearable in the trenches, and chloride of lime is thrown over them. I know of no more sickly smell than chloride of lime with the smell of a dead body blended in.
In the fire-trenches the Turks will not allow our men to bury the dead unless a special armistice is arranged. In consequence, in the dead of night our men volunteer to creep out, tie a rope round a body which may be too near them to make the atmosphere bearable, and then rush back, haul the body in, and bury it in the trench, or they will soak the body in petrol, go back to their trenches, then fire into the body—the white-hot bullets soon setting the petrol on fire, and the bodies in this dry climate quickly get cremated.
Several barges were sunk by last night’s gale, and one pinnace set on fire by last night’s shelling.
3 p.m.
The French battleship is now firing on Asiatic batteries very heavily, and it seems impossible that any one could live under her fire.
5 p.m.
Asia starts firing light shrapnel over, which we don’t mind at all. As long as they do not fire that heavy stuff, which is on you before you can duck, they can pop away all night.
5.30 p.m.
Asia firing heavy stuff on French lines. Now they have pitched one bang into the hospital. I—thinking every minute one will pitch in our depot—hurry up everybody, and they work with a will, taking cover when the shriek comes. Now they fall on the beach and splinters fly around us—it’s damnable! The corporal at 5.45 reports forage finished, which is a relief, as we can get to our dugouts.