As we came off in a pinnace, with lighters lashed on either side conveying wounded, the 38th Brigade of the 13th Division, part of the first of Kitchener’s New Army, were embarking on pinnaces and boats towed behind to go on board destroyers to be taken to the Peninsula. They were dressed in light drill khaki, with short knickers, putties, and helmets, and their packs, blankets, and ground sheet strapped to their backs, looking exceptionally smart and business-like. They are very fine men, above the average of the British Regular Tommy, and brigaded together appear to be troops of the high standard of our first line. One of course could only judge by personal appearance and the ordinary parade drill, which is as perfect as could be, but the near future will prove whether they have the fighting power of troops like the 29th Division. If so, then Britain has become the leading Military Power in the world, as well as the leading Naval Power.
We came alongside the hospital ship, the S.S. Neuralia, a fine boat of the British India Line. Arriving on board, we were welcomed by a nurse, and Wetherall, a Royal Scots officer, and myself were given a cabin, and after a wash we go down to dinner. Imagine our feelings when we were shown to a fine table daintily laid for dinner, waited on by Singalese dressed in white, long-skirted coats, white trousers, and curious wide-brimmed hats decorated with blue. Go to bed very early, but cannot sleep much.
July 7th.
Got up just before 6 a.m. and found that the ship had weighed anchor. It is a beautiful morning, and the sea and green hills of Lemnos look very fresh. We pass slowly through the Fleet, which looks very formidable, yet which at present is unable to help us on our way. So out of the harbour to sea.
The past seems now like a horrid dream, as one lives idly on board in every luxury that one could have.
At times I feel a shirker, yet when a medical officer sends one off the Peninsula his orders take precedence of an order of one’s superior officer on the Active List, and once you have left you are passed on from doctor to doctor and clearing station to hospital, and one’s future remains in the Medical Authorities’ hands.
Personally I am feeling much better, the fainting feeling having left, and the rheumatism nearly so. But war is so horrible that I wish it was all over. I’ve seen more of the horrible side than some of those in the fire-trenches, who sit comparatively safely there until the attack (this only applies to the unique situation in Gallipoli), and then with one objective in mind, namely to get another trench in front, they leap out and charge.
Most of them say the feeling is exhilarating and glorious, and those of the slightly wounded say they felt, when wounded while running on cheering, as if some one suddenly hit them with a hot stick. However, the risk I have run is not nearly so great as infantry run; but in future give me gunnery every time, they having the most thrilling and interesting work to do of any branch of the Service. However, let us hope our future will not hold war and its horrors in store for us.
July 8th.
This is an ideal ship for a hospital ship, luxuriously fitted with cabins and saloons. The ship is painted white, with a red band running all round and a large red cross in the centre on either side. At night a large red cross of electric globes is illuminated, and the great ship, lit up, makes a pretty sight. We had a burial yesterday, stopping, and a great hush falling over the vessel as the body was shot over the side and fell with a big thump and splash into the sea, resting on the surface a few seconds and then slowly sinking. I thought of the words of Prince Henry in “Henry IV,” Part I: “Food for worms, brave Percy,” but the word “fishes” should be substituted for “worms.”