Have to go up to the signalling deck above the bridge to take a message flashed from a tiny little “Tinker Bell” light away on our starboard. The sight is wonderful. Busy little dot-dash flashes all around the harbour. How the signallers find out which is which beats me.
The view of the hills in the background contrasts strangely with the scenes of modern science and ingenuity afloat.
I saw the Queen Elizabeth at close quarters two days ago, and I hope to go over her to-morrow. Also the Askold, a Russian cruiser, with five funnels. Tommies call her “The packet of Woodbines.” It is interesting to note the confidence the Army and Navy have in each other. While being rowed over here by some bluejackets, “stroke” told me that he was in the Irresistible when she was sunk. He looked sullen, and then said, “However, they’ll catch it now the khaki boys have arrived.” The prevailing opinion amongst the Tommies is that the landing will be a soft job, with Queen Bess and her sisters pounding the land defences with shells. Then the confidence French, British, and Russians have in one another is encouraging. The feeling prevails that when once the landing is effected Turkey will cave in, and that will have a great influence on the duration of the war. But a Scotsman said to me to-day, “Remember, Kitchener said ‘A three years’ war.’”
Sir Ian Hamilton this evening sent round a brief exhortation beginning, “Soldiers of France and of the King,” which bucked up everybody.
April 23rd.
A bright day. Took estimate of stores on board to see if troops had enough rations. Found shortage; signalled Headquarters, who send stores to make up. Received orders where to land on Sunday. Have to go ashore at “V” Beach with the first load of supplies and start depot on beach. Naval officer on board with a party. Breezy, good-looking young man, very keen on his job.
The first boat of the fleet leaves, named the River Clyde, an old tramp steamer, painted khaki. She contains the Dublin and Munster Fusiliers. Fore and aft on starboard and port the sides are cut away, but fastened like doors. She will be beached at “V” Beach, and immediately that is over, her sides will be opened and the troops aboard will swarm out on to the shore. Good luck to those on board! She slowly passes the battleships, and turning round the boom, is soon out of sight.
The strains of the Russian National Anthem float over the harbour from the Askold and the first large transport leaves the harbour, a big Cunarder, the Aucania, with some of the 86th Brigade on board. Great cheering. What a drama, and how impressive the Russian National Anthem is. Evening again. Little “Tinker Bell” flashes begin to get busy.
On lower deck the Tommies give a concert, with an orchestra composed of a tin can, a few mouth-organs, and combs and paper—“Tipperary,” “Who’s your Lady Friend?” etc.
Feel just a bit lonely and homesick. Longing for the time when I can see my sisters again and punt up the river at dear old Guildford. But what about the Tommies on board?—they have just the same feeling, and yet keep playing their mouth-organs. Hear that Ian Hamilton feels a bit anxious over this job, but that Hunter-Weston, our Divisional General, is full of pluck and confidence. He says that he will not “down” the man who makes mistakes yet tries to remedy them, but that the man that he will “down” will be the one who slacks and avoids work.