Gallipoli

The Benbow Battalion was shortly to land at Gallipoli. It was to suffer a short and unhappy history, having, after the Antwerp Expedition had most of its number interned in Holland. It was reformed, following the 2nd and 3rd Brigades to the Turkish Peninsula, together with the Hawke and Collingwood Battalions. But its period as a battalion would be short lived. It appears the troops were to be poorly lead and after the Battle of the 4th of June the Battalion was disbanded. This was due to major losses in the other brigades. But, also I feel, Major General Paris was not sorry to see it pass into history, as he was to write about the Battalion, in personal letter to his friend in England, in somewhat derogatory terms.

Transports conveying the remainder of our Brigade duly arrived, and with them came smaller ships of the cargo class. One of these, HMS Hythe, moored alongside Ivernia and into it we were transferred. Parting from the Ivernia was like taking leave of an old friend whom we might never see again. She had played her part well in bringing us safely from the Homeland through dangerous seas to our appointed place. Later we learned with genuine concern that she had been torpedoed, and the pious hope of all was that the old gentleman, her Captain, and the fine old Doctor had been spared.

There was an amazing assembly of warships in the harbour when HMS Hythe moved off. On passing them cheering crews lined the decks while their bands played that most inspiriting of all our war songs, "Rule Britannia." We were struck dumb at first and then singing as men inspired, the chorus was repeated again and again and cheer answed cheer until we reached the boom once more when silence was enjoined. Here we remained till nightfall, and, in the darkest of dark nights, set out for Gallipoli. All had to remain standing throughout the passage, for the deck space was so restricted that it was impossible to he down. The sun had just risen when our boat arrived off the Peninsula, and all were grateful for the warmth he sent in advance. Even for the Scots the night had been uncharitably cold. Drawing close in to barges which had been used in the Landing, the Hythe dropped anchor, and using the barges as a gangway we landed at ‘V’ beach in full sight of the S.S. River Clyde which played such a gallant role in the early fighting. Nearby the upturned bottom of a British warship loomed out of the sea; it looked for all the world like a sea monster asleep.

Once ashore, a good deal of official nonsense tried our patience. We were kept standing so long that some of the younger boys had to assume a stooping posture to ease the strain of the equipment on their backs and shoulders, and tempers were ruffled before orders were given to move off by Companies. As we climbed the cliffs marvelling the while that soldiers were able to make a landing at such a place, the smell of bacon frying cheered us no end for each and all were famishing of hunger, and the smell foretold good things to come.

Every bit of ground held our interest, but what intrigued us most was the phenomenal number of eyes peering out of holes big and small on every side. Some looked scared, some curious, and many mischievous. The mischievous eyes seemed to say "Wait my bonny boys, till you have been as long a this business as we have been and you won’t look so pretty." Soon after clearing the cliff head we came under fire. Watchful eyes on Achi Baba had found a good target and the guns let fly. The shells screamed over our heads, but beyond a significant glance at each other and a sudden cessation of chatter, no symptoms of funk were observable. The range seemed faulty, but as one salvo beat the dust in our immediate rear the order was given to double and take cover in some dead ground. To halt and dig in was out of the question as every patch of ground had holes enough and none to spare. Marching on, almost beaten down by heat and fatigue and sweating like bulls, we came at last to the patch of earth reserves for the Benbow Battalion, and there we gladly shed our equipment and stretched our aching limbs.

A ration of bully beef and biscuits soon disappeared, and then arose a cry for water. The torrid heat had created a thirst which any "drouthy crony" could have had for the asking. Water parties went off and fortunately they soon returned with a fairly good supply. Hunger and thirst being appeased for the time being all ranks set to work to prepare quarters in the ground for the night; but as there were neither picks nor shovels available each man had to make the most of his entrenching tool. Fortunately the sod was soft and our task was lightened considerably, but as there was no one competent to instruct us in the work, each man dug his hole as he thought fit. Mine resembled a mummy’s coffin. When I lay down to sleep I had for head cover not more than a foot of earth, and, in my innocence, I believed that this would afford me all the protection I required from stray bullets or wandering shells.

Although tired out I was slow to fall asleep, for the stars in the heavens were so bright and attractive and the Milky Way had, for the first time, justified its name. Resting my head on an improvised pillow with a ‘bone’ in it I could hear the rat-tat-tat of a machine and bursts of rifle fire ahead. The front, I was to learn, never slept. We had arrived in good time for the evening ‘hate’ and this also gave me a little food for thought, although our sector was not the chosen one on this occasion. Sleep triumphed at last, and I woke the new day much refreshed, and just in time to hear the Turkish guns bark out the morning ‘hate’. I could see the messengers of death at work in a nearby sector and common with my comrades, I wondered when we might expect a visitation and who would be the first among us to be called to his Eternal home. An inspection of our handiwork disclosed the too obvious fact that our holes were not nearly good enough. Some picks and shovels had made their appearance and each in turn secured the use of them. Tunics were shed and shirt sleeves cut off as we applied ourselves with zeal to the improvement of our trenches. Now and again we got a reminder of the necessity for expediency in the form of bursting shells, but towards the close of the day all seemed satisfied with the results achieved, and, keeping within battalion bounds we spent an agreeable hour or two conversing with friends. The time for "piping down arrived, and soon the battalion lines showed no sign of life. The feeling of fatigue which had settled on us after leaving Mudros was slowly wearing off, and after a second night of blissful rest we rose a cheerful company.

Work and movement went on apace and for our pains we received a special "hate" all to ourselves. Shells burst over our heads and splinters flew everywhere about. At first the onslaught was met with grins and smiles, but these changed to looks of mingled determination and concern as the firing continued. When the "hate" faded out all hastened to ascertain the price which had been paid and were relieved to observe that we had got off lightly. Here and there was a reeling man with one or two lying prone. They were all in life but one, the youngest of us all. He and his twin brother were buglers to the battalion and when ordered to stay behind at Blandford on account of their age, they set up such a crying match that it was decided to allow them to accompany the battalion. The grief the boy who was left was pitiful to see and he was returned to England.

Our interest in doings forward was now increasing. The firing seemed to become more hysterical, especially at night, and I observed that the noise proceeded almost entirely from the right sector of the line which was held by French coloured troops from Senegal. On that sector also, trailing star shells were ever in the air. They were of such a brilliance that they lit up almost every yard of No Man’s Land and cast their shafts of light well to the rear. This policy, it appears, had to be adopted to keep the Senegalese in good heart as they were inclined to panic. I was keen to become better acquainted with the pot-black boys from Northern Africa. As the Royal Naval Division held the centre of the allied line with the Senegalese on their right, the respective rest camps were pitched together but we were forbidden to fraternise. For some of our merchant seaman, however, the Senegalese camp was much too convenient. They had learned how to filch jam and other tasty things from the Quarters-master’s stores without being detected and had come to know that the French colonials were seldom short of red wine. Bartering went on apace, and on one of editions I was a member of our party. We arrived in time to see some of the Senegalese obtain new boots and clothing, and I was highly amused at the joy they expressed when trying the new things on. Most of them spoke French, but although they had been inoculated with a little European culture they were simple in mind as unspoilt children.

During our sojourn in the rear I could not fail to notice the ever increasing activity of all units, for the field of operations was so restricted that every movement of any importance caught the eye. Close to our quarters were the lines of the famous ‘L’ battery which had done so well in France in the early days of the fighting; but the unit most strongly represented was the Royal Army Medical Corps, which, like the Naval Division was composed mainly of volunteers. Our Division had been singularly fortunate in securing for its medical unit fine fellows from the Northern Counties of England, many of whom had qualified for the Long Service medal of St John’s Ambulance Association. So far as I could see there were few youngsters amongst them and all seemed to be taking their job seriously. It was well for them and us that they did so; for while on other fields of battle it may have been true that the job of R.A.M.C. was comparatively free from risk, this was not the case on Gallipoli. There, ambulances were as rare as golden sovereigns, and the transport of the wounded from the Advanced Dressing Stations to the shocking Evacuating Hospitals, was, mainly by stretcher. Frequently I observed the men of the R.A.M.C. toiling on with their heavy burdens under a broiling sun, at each step sinking ankle deep in the shifting sand, and trying, too often in vain, to shield their charges and themselves from the flying fragments of the wicked "Jack Johnson" shells, which followed them continually.

All ranks were now verminous; the lice had found us out and had arrived in mass formation. Every variety of anti-vermin specific had been brought from England, but they seemed to thrive on the powders and jellies which had been prepared for their extermination and there was nothing left for us to do to use our fingers. Providentially ant colonies abounded, and it was discovered later that lice were one of their pet aversions.

Our shirts were therefore places over the ant’s castles with marvellous results, but we had to be careful to see that all ants had been removed before dressing again, as we found to our cost that no flea could nibble like an outraged ant. In addition to the lice scourge we had to contend with almost every species of ground vermin, while the air above was alive with flies which never ceased to pester us. These flies resembled the home variety only in shape and form; for speed of motion they were as the "Blue Bird" is to the growler. What they seemed to like best was human blood and excreta; they also had a liking for sweetened milk, and when we were fortunate enough to possess a tin of this precious liquid, it was well nigh impossible to keep them from tobogganing down the slender stream as it oozed from the punctured tin into the tea.

These were our plagues: but what a blessing it was that the sea lapped the shores of Helles, for without it, we should have gone through the whole campaign without satisfactory wash. Before our initiation as soldiers proper, we enjoyed all the pleasures of sea bathing despite the ever present peril of being blown to bits by regular and directed shell fire from Turkish guns on the Asiatic coast.

We had waited long for the call to action and one night it came with the approach of dusk. Our Company alone set out and halted in the Achi Baba Nullah at a place called Backhouse Post. Here we quartered in damp, crumbling trenches quite close to a military cemetery in the making. We soon became accustomed to the barking of a British battery perched on the edge of the cliff over-head and to the irritating "waka, waka, waka" of frogs which infested the stream flowing down the Nullah, and were settling down for the night when an infernal din arose ahead. Our Commander spread the company over the stream, for he believed that the Turks were attempting a break-through. There we lay prone with magazines full and a faulty field of fire of not more than fifty yards. This happened at the time for battalion reliefs in the line, and men of our Second Brig were walking through us, with the utmost composure, on their way to the fire trenches. One or two of them took the trouble to enquire who we were, and on being told, they asked, none too politely, what were we doing there. On satisfying their curiosity we were met "Get up you bloody fools; there will be no break-through to-night or any other night". It seemed that they were right, for we were assembled and ordered to our trenches.

This was followed by a call for volunteers to the strength of a platoon and I "fell in". We marched smartly into the main communication trench which led to the front line, and were making good progress when we were held up suddenly by troops ahead, and closed in behind by troops following. We could neither advance nor retreat, and the utmost confusion prevailed. The fiasco was ended by the officer in charge of the troops in the rear getting out of the trench on to the parapet and ordering us back to our quarters. As it was impossible to return by the communication trench we were taken into the open. By a stroke of good fortune the Turkish fire had tapered off so the volunteers marched back in column of fours feeling very sick at being involved in such a foolish enterprise. The need for breaking step at such a time and place did not occur to us; but this was soon corrected when, on passing some dead ground we suddenly came on a company of old hand greeted us with the chorus we had all learned at the Crystal Palace:

This was followed by wild shouts of "break your steps you silly buggers" and, of course we instantly obeyed. On reaching Backhouse Post we found the remainder of the Company sound asleep with not even a sentry posted. Our party was glad to lie down for the night had been a tiring one and our faith was somewhat shaken.

Next morning the officers presented a sorry spectacle as the Company returned under orders to the rest camp. Our Company Commander had meant well. He had yet to learn that when reinforcements were required they would be called for, and that it was generally considered imprudent for any junior officer to act on his own initiative even if it proved to be the right thing to do. Later in the day Lieutenant Green looked his old self again and, as we moved off with picks and shovels in addition to "battle order" it was evident were about to perform. the task which we had set out to accomplish the previous evening. Again we marched up the Nullah but this time in single file. Without halting we proceeded by way of a main communication trench to the immediate Support Line where, where, without a word of explanation we were paired - one with a pick and one with a shovel - and hurried into the open. Willie Mitchell was my mate, and as it was very dark we took the precaution of joining hands in order not to stray. We had take only a few steps when we stumbled over two of our officers taking cover under the parados. Peering into darkness we saw a thin black line of our men ahead, and as we approached them the first man told us to get to the rear. We in turn told those following to do likewise. All duly arrived wondering what they had to do next, since there was no officer present to instruct. The question was settled for us when the Turks, hearing the noise we unfortunately created, sent up Very lights in profusion and began to hose the ground with machinegun bullets. No man waited for an order to start digging but set to work as he never worked before. Willie and I decided to take pick and shovel by turn. As if by instinct, we secured as much head and body cover as possible by placing the earth between ourselves and the machine guns’ line of approach. Fortunately the direction of the fire was not reversed, otherwise many more casualties would have been inflicted. Willie was a trifle nervy at first, for he had been beside poor Ferns when he was shot through the head coming up, but a few words of encouragement brought him to his senses and the deepening hole restored his self-composure.

During the hubbub I observed only two officers - an Engineer officer and our Battalion Doctor. The call for stretcher bearers was continuous until sufficient cover was gained, and the gallant young doctor constantly exposed himself as he directed the rescue work. His example gave us all great heart, and when dawn arrived we had completed a communication trench to the satisfaction of the Engineer officer in charge. On filing out, we passed our Company Commander looking pale and wan, and were taken in charge by our Platoon officer; but from that day onwards I lost sight of the fellows who took cover behind the parados when they should have been supervising.

Back we went to the Rest Camp, weakened but elated at having stood the test so well. On the way down young Eric Anderson kept close by my side. His keen eyes were roaming nervously about and could see only the unsightly things by the way. "Look, Mac, look," he exclaimed excitedly as he drew my attention to a line of horses which had been mangled by enemy artillery fire. I took a firm hold of the boy and in a kindly way replied; "Yes, Eric, its horrible to think that the poor beasts should have suffered as they have done, but let us both take a good look so that we may be able to face scenes like these and still be able to carry on. At this his face brightened and he manfully pulled himself together. On reaching camp I met an excellent lad named Watson who had just arrived from Alexandria. He told me he had been employed there as a first class writer with the rank of petty officer, but that on account of the loose living and general depravity of the place, he felt so ill at ease that he insisted on reverting to the rank of able seaman and asked to be sent to Gallipoli. I gave him a fair account of the Battalion and all that had been done and at the same time asked him to keep an eye on young Popham, while I took young Eric under my wing. This he willingly consented to do.

Work parties kept us busy for a few days, but on the evening of the 3rd June, preparations on a large scale were proceeding. We were again taken forward for a comparatively light fatigue and returned to camp in the gloaming. That evening I saw Commander Spearman of the Collingwood Battalion and what appeared to be his Company Commanders and Adjutant returning from a visit to the Front Line trenches. He looked composed but deep in thought as he walked on with hands clasped behind his back. I could not refrain from looking after him, for the Commander had always appealed to me as a man of fine courage and wisely sympathetic ways. It was the last I was to see of him and his fine Battalion.

Next morning there was an uncanny stir all over the lower end of the Peninsula while the "morning hate" was more diffused and more prolonged. The Turks seemed to sense there was trouble brewing. Exactly at 10:00 a.m. and without the slightest warning, guns in the Allied camp opened fire. We were up like a shot looking on. As the visibility was excellent and the nearest enemy lines were not more than three miles off, we could see the shells bursting and the dust which they created rising in clouds. Our fire inreased in intensity, and was supported by fire from our ships at sea. It seemed impossible for anything to live in such an inferno.

The ‘morning hate’ had faded out and the Turkish guns appeared to be subdued when all of a sudden out they range and shell after shell came flying our way. The order "Take cover and put on equipment" was rapped out and instantly obeyed. As the fire abated we popped up but it was now impossible to see anything ahead for dust. Our gun opened up and the Turks retaliated. Salvo after salvo flew over us with screeching whistle and swish, and I felt that numbness of spine which I understand almost every soldier feels when under sustained shell fire. The fire eventually cleared and we were ordered to move forward in file. Every man stood his height and walked out of the trench like a veteran.

Maintaining a steady double, we soon reached Achi Baba Nullah again. Here the scene baffled description. The Turks did not seem to be taking any notice of our battery on the Nullah’s edge. They knew that our reinforcements would pass that way and they blasted the place with high explosive shells. We were now part of a long line which kept running on. As we ran, man after man was brought to the ground and we had to jump over their bodies. On each flank streams of our wounded were making for the rear in pitiable plight. Some were falling exhausted and there was none to help. Others were hobbling and receiving fresh wounds from the fiendish shrapnel, while many received the blow that laid them low for all time.

Instead of halting at Backhouse Post we switched into a long trench running at right angles to it. This trench was in a sad state of disrepair, but it afforded us excellent cover, not so much from artillery fire as from a back-wash of machine gun and rifle fire which showered down like hail Again we were ordered to move, and keeping close to the right of the Nullah we reached the mouth of a communication trench. The road was clear and up we went at full gallop. When everything seemed set fair we were brought up with a jolt at a trench junction and further progress became impossible. Our Chief Petty Officer investigated the cause of the block and I understood him to say when passing that the trench was full of stretcher cases ahead and that it was an utter impossibility to get through. The column was reversed but on retracing our steps another jam occurred. With some others I was forced into an earthwork which had all the appearance of an ammunition dump. Here we found a number of our men round the Colonel who had been shot in the arm On getting into the trench again we connected and were led up another communication trench which bore more to the left and seemed close to the Nullah. There was a constant stream of wounded coming down and stretcher cases broke our formation. Eventually we reached the Support, then the Immediate Support and at long last arrived at the head of the communication trench where for the first time I observed an insignificant wooden cross bearing the fateful words: "Fire Trench." A strange feeling pervaded my whole body as I glanced at the sign. It may have arisen from the sudden realisation that at this point I had to prepare for anything that might befall me. I scanned the faces of my comrades and could trace unmistakable evidence that they also had received the same intimation. Our Company filed into the Fire Trench which was held by an English unit. Heavy casualties had weakened them considerably and those left standing had that fatalistic expression on their faces which conveyed all too forcibly the state of mind of men who knew that they could not dodge the bullet or shell which had their number on it. They were so tired out that they scarcely recognised us, while we in turn were not too sprightly, for it was now dark and we had been on the move all day. It had been a gradual ascent to this Fire Trench so that the Turks were on higher and more commanding ground. As we stood waiting orders, a constant stream of shells from our guns seemed to skim the parapet. It was diverting to watch them do the last lap. By looking fixedly ahead I could see what appeared to be small balls of fire hissing past, and seconds later spreading their venom a short distance in front. Higher up "the heavies’ were screeching as they passed to and fro, while to complete the scene, Turkish Whizz-bangs were spraying their contents over our Front and Immediate Support trenches. This had been going on all day and taking toll on both sides.

We were soon familiar with our surroundings and were beginning to wonder what was to follow when the familiar "Pass the word along" warning preceded the following message from Petty Officer Fry: 'Is there a Benbow Officer in the line?" The message passed from one to another with due caution until it reached the man on the extreme left who replied: "No Benbow officer in the line." This was followed by another message: "Petty Officer Fry is on the right and will take charge of the Benbows." Fry came along to show himself. He stopped and spoke a few words with me, explaining that he had reported to an officer of an English unit and had been instructed to wait further orders. He looked every inch a hero, and was as calm and self-possessed as the most hardened campaigner.

The night was far advanced when Fry returned, this time with an officer of a Field Company of Engineers. They had started numbering from the left and the party required included me. The officer unfolded his scheme, which was to the effect that we were to go into No Man’s Land and dig a communication trench to a position which had been consolidated in front of our Fire Trench and slightly to our left. This work had to be accomplished before dawn, otherwise the men holding the trench in front would have had to exist without water, throughout the following day. We were marshalled and led to a sap head, and before passing out were warned to fall flat every time the Turks put up Verey Lights. No sooner had we cleared the sap than the first light ascended and down we flopped. Nothing happened, but the moment we started digging, light after light soared into the air and machine gun and rifle fire showered on us from all directions. Those who carried shovels used them for head protection, the blades being positioned, as if by instinct, at such an angle as to cause the bullets to ricochet. Now and again I could hear stifled cries and dull moans as the bullets found a billet.

Up to this point our Field guns had been silent, but fire opened again, and as we were on rising ground the shells seemed to miss us by the narrowest margins. The din they created served a two-fold purpose: It drowned the noise of our digging and dominated the Turks to such an extent that the periods between their bursts of fire were of much longer duration. We worked intensively, and after some hours of digging got down about four feet. This was considered good cover and just as dawn was breaking we crawled down the new trench to the sap from which we had emerged, to find it blocked with men sitting knee-locked in profound and peaceful slumber. Every artifice was used to rouse them in order to allow us through, but without success, for they appeared to be tired to the bone.

If the Turks had come over they could have been carried off without the least fear of raising an alarm At times, life on the field was so strenuous that when an opportunity to rest presented itself not a second’s consideration was given to the place where one lay down. Tired out beyond all imagining, men would cast themselves down and sleep beside the dead and the dying. When it was found impossible to clear the sap, the foremost of our party made a dash over the parapet and fell into the Fire Trench, but this was too risky a proceeding for all to attempt, the remainder had to crawl over the bodies of the sleepers. Dog tired we hobbled back to our Rest Camp much reduced in numbers, and I observed that Watson was not with us.

When I came to myself I was anxious to know what had happened during the battle and how our Division had fared. From my enquiries I learned that the Second Brigade had made the attack on the Divisional sector with the Senegalese on their right flank and the 42nd Lancashire Territorial Division on their left. By 12.15 p.m. the whole Turkish line which formed the first objective had been captured, and the Collingwoods had pressed forward to keep the Turks on the run. At this juncture the Turks launched a powerful counter-attack on the Senegalese who retreated, leaving our right flank exposed to enfilade fire. Commander Spearman led his battalion into the breach, where they were enveloped in a curtain of fire, and of approximately one thousand men and twenty-seven officers who went forward only eighty-seven sound men and three officers answered the Roll Call. Thus did Commander Spearman and his gallant battalion pass out. The casualties sustained by the division were so serious and the hope of reinforcements so slender that it was decided to make up the strength of the other Brigades with remained of the personnel of my Brigade.

The Benbow are disbanded and A.B. Macmillan was transferred to the Drake

My parting with old comrades was a sad affair. Together with Fordham, Fry, Andrews, Rance, Mitchell, our war babies and others, I was transferred to the Drake Battalion under Commander King, and had for Company Commander, Lieutenant Campbell, who, I was informed, was the son of the then Attorney General for Ireland. The change was welcome in this respect that the Drake Battalion seemed to be splendidly officered, and so it proved to be. We were not to see our old officers again. Lieutenant Green died from the effects of a centipede bite over the eye, and Sub Lieutenant Iliff was killed in action soon after the change over. Green deserved a good deal of sympathy. His bad start seemed to unnerve him, and this could have been avoided if those in authority had taken the elementary precaution of ensuring that an officer going into the Fire area for the first time was given the assistance of an experienced officer until such times as he had a grasp of the situation.

As for Iliff, I know not how he met his death, but his passing vexed us sorely. He was our first officer and, naturally, we were attached to him on this account. But, sentiment apart, he was one of the finest specimens of young manhood it was my privilege to meet on the field. Tall, handsome, well-informed, serious and not wanting in courage, just the type of officer our country most needed in the hour of her extremity. He had a premonition - the special favour which the Angel of Death reserved for brave men on the battlefield - and after preparing a farewell letter to his mother, he sent for one of his old boys and charged him to forward it on receipt of the news of his death.

There was a touch of comedy in the reception Fordharn and I received on joining our platoon. We found our new associates in a very substantial trench, anxiously protecting their eatables from one of the many sand storms that added to the "delights" of living on the Peninsula, We were half-blinded and so were they, but their curiosity was strong enough to keep their eyes from closing altogether and their mouths as well. They crowd of hardened sinners as they laughed when Fordham and I ventured a "good morning." Having once said "good morning" both of us felt we had to keep it up, as we passed from one to another on our way to the top of the trench where we had to to billet and neither of us felt at all elated. There was something to be done to our corner of the trench in order to make it a little more comfortable. This we began to do when we were joined by one of the lads from further down the trench. Not wishing to impede us he sat on the top with his legs dangling into the trench and, speaking in the Yorkshire dialect, immediately engaged us in conversation. He explained that the platoon was composed entirely of Yorkshire miners who had been drafted from the Yorkshire Light Infantry to the Naval Division in order that the Division might have men who could use a pick and shovel. In his crude way he apologised for the bad manners of the others, and proclaimed in a loud voice that if there was any more of it, they would have him to reckon with. Swainston, tor that was the name of our newly found friend, soon proved that although he was rough and ready, he was honest and kindly disposed. Through his good offices we became better acquainted with the rest, of whom old Tommy, Quin, Dawes, Thackery, Greene and young Wormold attracted me most. All were natives of Rotherham as coarse as the devil, but the right men for the job. On the first day of my absorption by the Drakes I got my first job. Swainston must have told his friends that we were "good scholars" for he headed a deputation carrying a wooden cross. The cross had been beautifully executed but what stuck them was the finding of a suitable inscription. I asked them to tell me something about the boy Gregory, in memory of whom the cross had been made, and they told me a moving story of how the young hero met his death. I then set to work and produced an epitaph which seemed to give them no end of satisfaction. After patiently inscribing the words on the cross, they marched off to the cemetery at Helles to place it on the grave. Fordham and I soon got to know our Petty Officer and Company Chief Petty Officer, but our platoon was without a Sub-Lieutenant on account of the heavy officer casualties in the recent fighting. The Petty Officer did not commend himself to any man in the platoon, But Pincher Martin, the Company Chief was a hot favourite. He was an old sailor who had sailed many seas and had met all manner of men in all manner of circumstances. Part of his make up, was a caustic tongue capable of making "Fly" men feel small, yet behind his shafts of withering wit was a kindly nature. The Battalion Chief on the other hand was a lithe little man and a trifle old for such a strenuous position, but being an old sailor too, he how to conserve his energy, and generally travelled along the line of least resistance. Chief Blanchard had most to do when out of the line. His first job was to waken the battalion in the morning and as he was always ahead of the sun there never was any fear of "sleeping-in". The method he adopted was novel. Sensing that our tough platoon would give him most trouble, he called on them first of all. Armed with a healthy branch of a tree with plenty of leaves on it, he brushed the faces of his charges shouting the while "Wakee, Wakee, rise and shine, the sun’s burning your eyes out." Mingled groans and moans and worse fell from the lips of the sleepers, but only by standing bolt upright could they hope to escape a further dose of the enlivener.

At the conclusion of the spell of rest the Drakes moved of by companies to effect a relief in the line, each man carrying a pick or shovel in addition to his full equipment. It was dusty going, especially in the long communication trench, and we were glad to arrive. Our Company took up Position in the Immediate Support Trench and after a few days we moved forward to the Fire Trench and later back to the Support. The term of duty in the fire area was usually ten days, while in the Rest Camp from seven to ten days were allowed.

I was intrigued with the routine of the Fire Trench and the excellent supervision of the Scout Officer, Lieutenant McGrath, sad to relate, he was killed during this period. He was a restless little soul always on the alert in order to ascertain if the men on sentry duty had anything to report. On the day he met his death, he was following his usual practice of having a pop at any Turkish head which presented itself. In a Fire bay close to mine he stopped to observe and, seeing something to his liking, seized the sentry’s rifle. Standing head and shoulders above the parapet he took deliberate aim and fired. While exposing himself himself to observe the effect of his shot a Turkish sniper got him through the head and he died on the way to hospital. The fire of the Turkish snipers seemed well-nigh perfect, they were accustomed to the clear visibility and their distance judging was almost faultless.

Apart from the occasional shelling nothing eventful happened. During the day, sentry duty occurred once every four hours, and I spent most of my leisure time reading periodicals from home, Tennyson’s poems, and other choice books. My miner chums were not readers and eschewing every form of sun-ray treatment, were to be found in holes and crevices with sandbags over their heads and sound asleep. I managed to read during the day, notwithstanding the fact that from "stand to arms" at dusk, to "arms" at dawn I had to conform to the rule of one hour on and one hour off.

Dysentery was now beginning to make its presence felt, and two simple warriors, desiring to escape duties in the line, volunteered for latrine duty. Incidentally they let themselves in for one of the most unpleasant jobs on the Peninsula for, from that time onwards, all were conscious possessors of an alimentary canaL A further tax was imposed on our peace of mind by the persistent chirping on "high doh’ of grasshoppers, who seemed to be as prolific as the flies. Where there was a bit of vegetation there they were to be found messing about from sunset to sunrise. It was a God’s blessing we were able to keep our mouths shut.

The change from the Fire area to Rest Camp was something to be thankful for; fatigues consisted only of one good task per day, we had ample time to refresh and relax. It is true that shells were seldom far away, but with an increasing stoicism, minor alarms were easily discounted. As a set of the many annoyances which we had to endure there was the fun which arose from the means adopted to dodge unpleasant experiences or to restore equanimity. Each one laughed at the other’s little misfortunes and all in turn were chaffed. Unhappily we could not always laugh at the dysentery effects, although on one occasion Rance raised a howl. He had been kept on the trot all day and had got to the stage when it was considered imprudent to fasten the trousers. On one of his trips to the "bog" a sympathetic soul enquired where he was going in such a hurry. Rance’s good temper failed him for once, he tartly retorted: "I am going to lay eggs." The "bog" or latrine lay close to the Battalion lines and consisted of a piece of ground about 50 yards square. A trench four feet by four feet was dug round it for deposits. There was neither cover nor support so that the operation was always fraught with the unpleasant possibility of toppling in. Myriads of flies made the place their happy hunting ground, and myriads of them paid dearly for it, since it gave us no end of satisfaction to bury them when covering our outpourings, with sand. I had discovered the stump of an old tree on the verge of the latrine, which accorded support for my back, shade from the sun and a certain amount of protection from shell fragments. There I used to sit and read. One day, when engrossed I heard a shell-burst ahead, followed by an ominous screeching which denoted that there was a nasty blow-back approaching. The latrine had its full compliment of men in varying degrees of distress, and the blow-back got one of them in the arm-pit. The poor chap howled, "I’m hit, I’m hit," but continued under the spell of his dysentery attack, so commanding was the infernal scourge. On the cry being repeated one or two of us rushed to his assistance. We saw at once that he was badly wounded and hurried him off to the Field Dressing Station; but before we reached the place the wound had proved fatal. I too had my turn of dysentery, but by chance I discovered that by pounding dog biscuits and making a thick broth of them I soon enjoyed a comparatively normal bowel motions.

We were greatly helped to forget our troubles and afflictions by watching saucy little Commander Sampson being pursued in the air by half -a-dozen enemy aircraft: or as he tantalisingly drew upon himself the fire of almost every anti-aircraft battery in the Turkish camp, the while he observed their movements and directed our artillery fire. Although we were denied the pleasure of seeing him in the flesh, Sampson was our hero and inspiration until he went to sea again-.

The next spell in the line was a little more interesting than the previous one. Our company went straight into the Fire Trench and was settling down nicely when the Battalion Second-in-Command arrived to inform the miners from Rotherham that they would be required for an important digging operation that night. In the fight on 4th June we had got ahead of the French thus leaving the right of our line "In the air." The task was to connect with the French and close the breach which, so long as it remained, constituted a serious menace both to the French and to ourselves. When the scheme was explained the Yorkshire men "went off the deep end." They turned on the officer and told him to get the Froggies" to do the bloody job and that they would see themselves in Hell before they lifted a leg that night. They invited the Commander to put them in chains, or shoot if he thought fit. Hard looks and loud talking was of no avail. In the course of the argument they got the officer to admit that because they were miners they had received more than their share of dirty work. There seemed to be no way out of the impasse. Both parties had paused for breath when one of the men asked the officer how he would like to do the job. His face relaxed, and with a big smile he said: "I’ll go with you and see it through." This offer was so unexpected that they were left speechless.. The bargain was clinched, and an excellent piece of work was the outcome; but what gave most satisfaction was the fact all returned unhurt.

On moving to the Reserve Trench, Sub Lieutenant MacLean was waiting to take charge of our platoon. He had been wounded in the early fighting and as he was well known to the Yorkshire men and highly respected, his arrival gave considerable satisfaction. All was very peaceful, but our officer took the opportunity to explain that the tranquillity might be of short duration as the French were committed to the serious undertaking of capturing what was called the "Haricot Redoubt" - a strong point which had held them up in the last fight. It was part of the plan that in the event of the French faltering we were to swing out to the right in support. When the officer left, the French were cursed up hill and down dale by the Yorkshiremen. To add to their fury, rations had been poor during this term and I could not fail to notice that it was asking for trouble to put the men into a fight on empty stomachs. The bread ration for the day consisted of a pound loaf between four, but there was no shortage of dog biscuits, which everyone heartily detested. The rashers of bacon which arrived were all rind, and the moment they were "dished up" there was an explosion of wrath; my commander, fumed afresh and outcursed any trooper. The Mediterranean was referred to as the Medite-bloody-ranean- and worse. I was wondering when the storm of abuse was going to end when young Wormold, a boy of eighteen, looking very grave tore the rind of his rasher and, glancing over the parapet, indulged in the following conversation with an imaginary Turkish section leader:

"Hello Johnnie, are ye there? You are, are you? How many men are in your section ? 16, did you say? Then share that among the buggers."

and he tossed the rind over the parapet. This brought the house down. It was the first time they had heard the youngster at it, and despite their hunger and ill humour, their laughter was loud and long.

Soon after, the fight began. As usual the Turks were subjected to a very heavy bombardment and they retaliated both on the French and on ourselves. Their shells were clearing our Immediate Support Trench but as the distance from that trench to the reserve was unusually long, they fell short of our position. Providentially our trench was almost ideal and fragments, big and small made little impression on the parapet. The French were successful, and in preparation for their counter-attack, the Turks laid down a heavy barrage which again fell short, but the splinters were now more dangerous, and a nose cap so seriously wounded Sub-Lieutenant MacLean in the head, that he had to be evacuated for a second time.

The welcome call to quit the line came none too soon, for the summer sun was at its height and the trenches were as hot as ovens. A mouthful of air could be got in communication trenches, but as they were in almost constant use, the trampling created a powered dust which was much more easily disturbed than allayed. Everybody longed for Helles and breathing space. There was also a strong desire on the part of the old Drakes to prove or disprove the latest buzzes or rumours, for they were tiring and losing heart; they felt that they could not go on fighting against incalculable odds indefinitely. For want of vegetable food the skin on our hands and arms had become pasty, and every sore turned septic. One buzz predicted that our Division was to be taken off to the island of Imbros for goat’s milk and vegetables; another, that reinforcements had arrived to permit this being done.

On our way to the rear we passed through the 52nd Lowland (Territorial Division.) This disposed of buzz No. 2. to our satisfaction, and gave grounds for hope that the Imbros project would materialise. But buzz No.1 was too good to be true. At first we found the men of the Lowland Division good companions. The skirl of the bagpipes was much appreciated until it was discovered that one of the band’s functions was to waken the Scots in the morning with ‘Hey Johnnie Cope are ye waukin yet." This was sufferable on the mornings when our Regimental Chief got in first with his "Wakee, wakee, rise and shine," but when the pipers stole a march on him, civil war was prevented by the fortunate circumstances that the respective camps were not pitched together.

The order to keep within Battalion bounds was now ignored. At every opportunity we wandered rather aimlessly about, seeking distraction. During my peregrinations I made a most interesting discovery. Nearby I heard someone singing a Salvation hymn. On nearer approach I observed a young man standing alone with a Moody and Sankey hymn book in his hand while a small pile of hymn books lay on the ground, beside him What seemed to me even more strange was the fact that he belonged to one of our battalions: I was surprised to find his like in a combatant unit. When he had finished singing the hymn, he prayed and thereafter proceeded to preach, calling on all to repent and be reconciled to God. There was a lump in my throat as I listened to the well meaning and solitary lad, for I was the only person to pause and listen. The rough and refined alike merely glanced his way and passed on. His point of view was very familiar to me, and although it was not wholly in harmony with my own I wondered why all passed by, and how their immediate spiritual needs were satisfied. I had to resign my quest, however, for I found that the ways of Providence on the field of battle were past finding out. It seemed mercifully kind that young men should go as lambs to the slaughter; for when the blow that exterminated all light did fall it was the easier to bear, or so it seemed to me when I looked on the dead. In time the lad ceased to hold his meetings, and I could only conclude that he had been called to his Eternal home; for although I enquired diligently concerning him I could find no one who knew of his whereabouts.

On my return to camp I told Fordham of my experience and, a Sunday intervening, he planned a little hymn singing on his own account. The good fellow succeeded in securing a fair supply of an excellent Y.M.C.A. production and, sitting on a little mound of earth, a fair company of the "Drakes," including the hard cases, sang many of the well known hymns in the collection.

In this and other ways we passed the time until we found ourselves in the line again. The sun was now oppressively hot, and after a freakish rainfall which passed over us and returned to repeat the dose, the trenches were baked rendering the outer earth as hard as stone. Our first Brigade had made ground during their term in the line, and we were led into a front line trench with a poor field of fire. The Turkish dead were lying about in large numbers, small groups of them lay at the foot of our parapet in every conceivable posture. There was a group in front of my fire step, and I observed that in almost every case the head was thrown back and the mouth wide open. This seemed to indicate that they had been shot on reaching the top of our parapet and had fallen backwards, the shock of the shot or the fall parting the jaws. Into the gaping mouth the flies poured and out of the gaping mouths on to us they came. Through exposure to the sun the bodies had swollen considerably, and the smell which issued from them was the smell of dead men half cooked. These unfortunate Turks not only seemed big, handsome, fresh young men, but their equipment was a revelation; nothing finer have I seen on any field of battle. Our Battalion Second-in-Cornmand thought it advisable to search them, and when it was dark I assisted in bringing a number of them into the trench. After the search was completed they were carried over the parapet again, but for days it was impossible to get rid of what they had left behind. The flies were after the fragments but it was left to us to destroy the mawks which had fallen from the bodies in the handling. We learned that the dead men belonged to the Ottoman Guard and were shock troops. They caught the Ansons unprepared, but had been well beaten in the counter-attack, in which the Ansons were ably led by the old Second-in-Command of the Benbow battalion.

The Turks handled their dead with great respect. It seemed to be their practice to come out under cover of darkness and secure as many as possible for decent burial. We found to our costs, however, that their snipers occasionally used the dead in No Man’s land for body cover. The first to discover this trick unfortunately fell a victim to a sniper’s bullet. One of our old hands was on sentry duty, and on looking out he observed a sniper resting his rifle on a dead man. He informed his mate, and asked him to keep a look out while he laid aim and fired. The shot wounded the Turk, but before our man could withdraw another sniper got him through the head. The wounded Turk was seen to draw himself slowly to a sap head and was finished off, but our second marksman had also been too late in withdrawing and he in turn suffered the same fate as his companion. Both were buried behind our parados; but although in life they were inseparable in death a layer of earth kept them apart in order to satisfy the requirements of the rival Christian clergymen who performed the burial service. Had we known that such fooling would arise, the clergymen would have been left at the base where they spent most of their time, and our friends would have been buried with no dividing partition. This exhibition of warring creeds at such a time and place was profoundly disgusting to all who witnessed it.

There was something extraordinary about our next relief, for it was effected by the King’s Own Scottish Borderers of the Lowland Division. This straightened the belief in the buzz which foretold an early trip to the Island of Imbros. We were, therefore, all smiles when the Borderers arrived, and being a Scot, I was chaffed a good deal by my comrades about the Relief of Lucknow, and the like. The appearance and bearing of the Scots pleased me immensely. Physically most of them seemed fit for the Guards. But I confess, after making due allowance for the fact that this was to be their first time in the line, they seemed to me too dour and a trifle unsociable. I inadvertently bumped into one of their Company Sergeant Majors who, after observing my left arm and finding no sign of rank thereon, let me know unmistakably that he was a Sergeant Major. When I saw that the dull fool did not take apologies from lowly rankers I let him know what the Scots in the Naval Division thought of Army Sergeant Majors; but what he got from some of the Yorkshire miners almost made his moustache stand on end and he was glad to pass on.

The Imbros illusion was shattered on passing the Support Trench where we found our Second Brigade mustering. "Why are you not going into the line" we shouted ? "Hell knows" was the reply. On reaching our rest camp we were not allowed to wander. There were frequent roll calls and no bathing parades. At night we were forbidden to remove any part of our uniform or equipment; but, as the kidneys are delicate organs, we were forced to disobey orders to the extent of removing our entrenching tool blades. The word got round that the Scots were going to attack. During the relief to which I have just referred some men of the Lowland Division were curious to know all about the magic "wee hill’ called Achi Baba, and it was alleged that they made light of the serious tales they were told and bragged that they could take the "wee hill" with sticks. This story went the rounds and was generally believed. I did my best to discount it, for I could see that our men would not stand for patter of this kind; but my efforts were unavailing. "The Scots have said it and we shall see how they get on" was the piqued reply I received to my entreaties.

The day arrived and a more intensive bombardment than that of the 4th June was laid down late by our guns. The fire lifted, and in a short time reports on the fighting filtered through. "The Scots have taken two trenches, - three trenches - and are still advancing." On receipt of this news there was no containing the men of the Second Naval Brigade: and when we heard that our First Brigade had gone over the heads of the Lowland Division, cheer on cheer was raised and the desire to get into it grew stronger as the battle raged. When the engagement was at its height we moved off in time to escape raking Turkish artillery fire. Moving quickly forward we passed through the Nullah of Death and enjoyed excellent cover until we reached our original Fire Trench which, to our amazement, was held by men of the Lowland Division looking sorely beset. In anticipation of a Turkish barrage being laid down we advanced by platoons in worm formation, and soon reached the original Turkish Front Line into which we dropped. The trench was full of Turkish dead lying in every possible position. We had to thread our way through them to the nearest communication trench where we were obliged to walk over the mangled remains of more Turks before reaching their old Reserve Trench which now served as our Front Line. This trench had been so badly battered by our artillery that the converted parados formed a parapet not more than four feet high.

Our first concern was to deepen the trench and build up the parapet. Picks and shovels were hurried forward for the purpose, but we had to call a halt on finding the floor of the trench lined with dead Turks. As there was no sign of an immediate counter-attack we turned our attention to clearing the trench of the wounded, leaving the dead until time could be found to dispose of them. The evening closed on a harrowing scene. To find a resting place clear of the dead we had to burrow under the parapet and there we lay in fitful slumber when our hour of watch expired, to waken and carry on again till dawn. During the watches, agonising cries of "water, water," could be heard distinctly, and at dawn we could see what appeared to be pieces of clothing being waved, as voices growing fainter and fainter pleaded to be rescued at nightfall. A lad named Newton effected a very brave rescue, but was sniped and killed from behind soon afterwards. Another attempt by a boy Walker ended in his making the supreme sacrifice also, and all further attempts were forbidden.

Our water bottles were now empty, and thirst increased with the increasing heat of the day; yet we had to carry on without water until the following day, when the Battalion Chief Petty Officer arrived with a large skin bag which looked for all the world like a diseased bagpipe minus the chanter. For a measure he carried a Wills tobacco tin, which normally contained two ounces of tobacco, and from this tin each man received two rations of water. Unfortunately it was found impossible to get forward to an isolated company of the Drakes, who set to dig for the precious liquid; but as soon as they reached moist earth they stuffed their mouths with it in order to relieve their torment.

If the division would hold on for twenty-four hours the first contingent of Kitchener’s army would relieve them, so the promise ran. Twenty-four hours passed, but no relief came. By a stroke of good fortune communication with the rear had been secured, and a man from each section was despatched for water to Romanos Well. I was chosen for this duty and on my way down I was held up at a trench junction by a jovial company gathered round a Turk who had been killed instantaneously by the detonation of a high explosive shell. He was sitting on the Fire step in a normal position, with his eyes and mouth open, and some rogue had discovered that by punching his abdomen his tongue would protrude and slowly withdraw to the mouth again. They were all impatiently waiting their turn, but as I could see no fun in such an indulgence, I hurried on. When I arrived at the well I had to fight for water, so large and disorderly was the crowd which had assembled from all units, and on returning to the line I was received with open arms.

For three days more we carried on in utter misery, and finally the Notts and Derbys arrived. We must have presented a sorry spectacle for, in addition to being covered with dust from head to foot, we had enjoyed only one decent wash in three weeks, and had been without a shave for the best part of a month. The men from the Midlands were ever so kind to us. Although we were dying for a smoke we had to refuse their liberal offers of cigarettes in case they would leave themselves short of the only known protection against flies, and the sure prop for dropping spirits. It was with regret that we parted with the goodhearted fellows, for it was as clear to us as noon-day that they too had been brought to the jaws of death without sufficient preparation. When we moved from the trench system all attempts to do so in orderly fashion failed. Blocks occurred at regular intervals imposing a heavy tax on our patience. During one of our enforced halts I found myself gazing at legs and arms and the crown of a head sticking out of the earth at the top of a commumcation trench. The sun had burned away all the hair from the head and had left a plain shiny surface on which the letters "R.I.P." had been printed in indelible ink. This could have been done only by means of a copying-ink pencil, and in view of the shortage of water and the size of the letters, the saint or jester who inscribed them must have moistened his pencil with his own saliva. As I contemplated the spectacle and mused on calling to mind that the head may have been that of a Mussulmari who despised all things Christian.

When free from obstructions our withdrawal became more orderly until passing close to Romanos Well when, despite every effort on the part of the officers, the ranks broke and all rushed for water. Each swallowed enough for a camel, and full to the brim we marched off in small detachments to our shelled retreat at Helles. To save his face, a hefty Petty Officer named Greene got three of us together, and staggering on well away from the beaten track we came to another well where men of the Field Artillery were drawing water. At our approach the artillerymen withdrew, and formed an avenue through which we passed. They removed our equipment and implored us to sit down while we had another fill up, but we were afraid to squat from fear of our limbs stiffening. Addressing Greene, one of them asked; "Are these all that are left of your platoon?’ Without turning a hair he replied: "Yes, we went up fifty-four strong and these are all I have left." It took me hard to keep my face straight for not one of us belonged to Green’s platoon and he hadn’t the foggiest notion where his men were.

When all that remained of the battalion reached Helles, a number of the lads were overcome by fatigue while many looked as if they had lost all hope in the world. Already we had had two suicides and to stay the mania our Battalion Commander ordered rum to be issued in large quantities. Inspired by the drug someone began to sing "To be a farmer’s Boy." In no time all were singing like linties. The transformation was so swift and the antics so grotesque that I could not keep from smiling when tears would fain have come. As the rum lost its potency, sleep kindly intervened. Some lay face downwards with only their packs removed and few took the trouble to bother about their entrenching tool blades. In my sleep I dreamed dreams so sweet and entrancing as to cause me to regret my return to consciousness. During the dream periods I conversed with friends far away.

The intervening distance seemed to be meaningless by some supernatural power, as old friends trooped past and talked to me in a more elevating and stimulating way than they were capable of doing in the flesh. So real did the experience seem that on waking in the morning to the sound of guns, for some moments I was in doubt as to whether I had really parted from them for the night or had entered the realm of troubled slumber to dream of battlefields and roaring cannons.

Few of us heard "Hey Johnnie Cope" that morning; for of those left standing almost all were sick men and many had to be assisted to the medical dug-out. The continuous fighting from the Landing had so reduced their vitality that they became an easy prey to almost every mentionable disease, the worst of all being "black" dysentery. Some of the sufferers from this malady lay round the latrine day and night clothed only in blankets, and a number of them died where they lay. I had not seen Eric Anderson for some time and I was beginning to wonder if he was still in the land of the living when I observed him approaching. At first I scarcely knew the boy, for he seemed inches taller and appeared to be dying on his feet. He had reported sick but, after receiving a good dose of caster oil, was instructed to carry on. The boy looked so ill that I insisted on his pestering the doctor when he was evacuated and sent to England. Young Popharn on the other hand, who was about two years older than Eric, had firmed up beautifully into one of the best men in the battalion.

Since joining the Drakes, Fry, being a Petty Officer, had been too busy to see me, but as our troubles began to cancel themselves out I enjoyed more of his company. One afternoon I arrived just in time to join his bathing parade, and on returning to camp we sat apart and discussed the last fight. It was the bloodiest encounter we had experienced so far, and he was not slow to praise the Scots for putting up such a fine show. He maintained however, that but for the timely intervention of our Division the counter-attack would have resulted in the almost total extinction of what remained of the Lowland Division, and in this I concurred. Personally, I was delighted with the Scots fine effort, for in common with my countrymen in the Naval Division I had a high standard to live up to, and some silly prejudice to live down, even on the field. In the course of our conversation we passed from the actual fighting to the aftermath, I told Fry how keenly affected I was on running through a group of K.O.S.B. dead, to see them clustered round their officer who had fallen forward on his hands and knees and had died in that position. He told me that when his men had settled down he walked among the dead lying behind our fines and was surprised to observe how pleasant some of them looked in death, "I wish I could paint, Mac," he said, wistfully. "Why ?’ I asked. "Because" he continued, "I saw two youngsters sitting near to each other and both had died while in the act of removing their puttees as if they were preparing to go to bed. I should like to put that on canvas for everybody to see."

On moving about I heard of many gallant acts which the bestowers of awards, being always too far behind, never came to know of, but of all the tales, the manner in which Sub Lieutenant Startin passed away, made the greatest impression on me. It transpired that he had been brought into the trench badly wounded. The call for a stretcher for "Mr Startin" was passed along the line. He heard the call and enquired if he was the only wounded person to be evacuated. On being told that there was a line of wounded ahead he insisted on taking his turn and died before reaching the Dressing Station.

A diversion of a rather serious kind was provided by Ginger Morton. The red wine of the Senegalese was now much too feeble after double doses of rum, and, in the manner peculiar to spirit drinkers, he discovered that a Greek working party, billeted in the vicinity of "V" beach, possessed a liberal supply of a potent cognac. Off he went on his own loaded with stolen jam. He was missing for a week and might have been allowed to stray unmolested, like the little white donkey which wandered about from battalion to battalion, had he kept sober; but one day Ginger got mortally fou’ and when brought back to the Drakes under arrest he was hardly capable of biting his little finger. A Court-martial followed, and fortunately for him the Court was composed of Naval Officers. In the treatment of crime on the field our officers always proved to be wise far and beyond the army practice and, recognising that Ginger was too good a soldier to shoot, he was given the light sentence of thirty days "crucifixion." During the day he was kept hard at work and at dusk was bound hand and foot and laid in a hole. Here I visited him regularly bringing always a choice collection of good things from the lads which he managed to spirit away and consume at leisure.

Our rest was doing us good. Reinforcements were arriving but we were shocked to find that a large proportion of them were "War Babies." The little chicks looked game, yet how could they be expected to stand up to climatic conditions which deprived even our horses of their vitality and rendered them useless for any serious work? We had brought a good proportion of youngsters with us, and happily the blend was good, but to carry more than a fair quota of adolescents was courting disaster. With this serious possibility on our minds we worked with a will to bring our new charges to a full realisation of what they might have to face, taking care to temper the truth with words of cheer.

After the horrendous times that Macmillan had lived through, new recruits who he called "War babies" began to arrive. These were to be blooded in their turn. The stalemate of trench warfare together with exhaustion and ill health continued to take its toll. The slow drift to eventual evacuation moved ever nearer, with the Division eventually taking to the boats. Macmillan was to be a member of that exalted few a "Last Ditcher".

July was drawing to a close when one fine day a sudden burst of rifle and machine gun fire on the left-centre of the allied line arrested our attention. The fire crept along the line to our extreme left and became so intense that at times I could scarely see the right spur of Achi Baba for the white vapoury smoke which the small arms created. There was a total absence of artillery fire on both sides, and we were inclined at first to attribute the disturbance to panic, when the Turkish artillery opened fire. As their fire from all arms was sustained, the idea gained ground that at long last the Turks were attempting a break-through at the point which oflered them the most direct approach to our beaches; and, without orders, our men assembled in their Company lines to prepare for action. After waiting in suspense for a considerable time we were informed that our troops were the aggressors and that the object of our offensive was to split the Turkish forces in order to ease the resistance at Suvla Bay, where a fresh landing was being attempted.

On the following day, our local rag, "The Peninsula Press," announced that a great victory had been achieved and we made merry; but our merriment was short-lived. A few days later we moved forward to relieve all that remained of the 29th Division and discovered that we had not advanced at all. After the first "Stand-to-arms" at dawn I visited a barricade in a communication trench close to the Turkish firing line which was held by a garrison of twenty men under the command of my old friend Fry. Fry greeted me cordially enough, although I had the feeling that there was something at the back of his mind. Handing me a periscope he bade me look over the parapet and I looked. There, a few intervals apart, was an unbroken line of our dead which seemed to stretch the full length of the British front - all had gone forward to a man and had fallen almost simultaneously. The white smoke which obscured the right spur of Achi Baba had come from the guns that mowed them down. The fire had broken the second wave which followed and the intervening ground between the first wave and our Fire trench was covered with their bodies. Little birds perched on the protective belts of wire and warbled innocently over their lifeless forms, while high in the sky vultures circled, waiting an opportunity to descend. In this atmosphere we existed for seven days in torrid heat, amidst smells that almost destroyed the sense of smell. All traces of gaiety vanished, and when relief came we marched away with hearts heavier than the packs we carried.

For some reason or other our Rest Camp was moved farther to the rear and sentry duties were introduced for the first time out of the line. During my spell of "sentry go" I had to include in my beat part of the camp occupied by the Royal Horse Artillery. Observing the fine condition of their horses, I remarked to a sergeant in attendance on them that I could do with a horse’s job for the next month. He replied with a significant smile, that there was a great deal of truth in my observation, and very kindly invited me to tea in the Sergeant’s Mess that evening. I gladly accepted his invitation and after a most enjoyable tea the conversation centred round the last fight. They asked me what the conditions were forward, and I told them all I had observed. The news vexed them exceedingly, for no unit had the welfare of the infantry so much at heart as the artillery; they were our bucklers and right well they responded. Commenting on the absence of covering artillery fire, I enquired why they had been silent. Almost in a whisper the Sergeant-major answered: "We had only thirty rounds of high explosive to fire that day." This revelation sent a cold shiver through my whole being, but when I learned that the assault had been made by fresh troops who had landed during the night and had therefore faced the massacre like innocent lambs, I could have wept.

Before going into line again our Company marched off one evening at nightfall, accompanied by stretcher bearers. In addition to our rifles and bandoliers with ammunition we carried picks and shovels. The presence of stretcher bearers was convincing evidence that the job on hand was a serious one. After passing over the open in Worm formation we reached the magnificent Mule Track Communication Trench, and along this trench we proceeded until halted at a point close behind our Reserve line. Here the Company deployed, and each man was given his task. The Mule Track was to be extended to the Fire trenches. I observed that a platoon had marched ahead of us but it was now dark I was unable to discern who they were. No sooner had digging begun than fire fell on us; bullets spluttered all about, and calls for stretcher bearers were raised. The fire eased off but one shot, which would have passed without a billet had it not ricocheted, thus causing a momentary spark, was followed by a voice calling "Mac, Mac." I jumped out of my hole and shouted "What’s the matter." Out of the darkness a reeling figure emerged and I rushed to support a young boy who was a comparative stranger to me, for I could recollect having spoken to him only on two previous occasions, and that in passing. I gave him water and asked him where he had been hit. He pointed to his left foot. I removed the boot and found a slight swelling, but no sign of a wound. The boy had found time to tell me that he had been previously wounded and I had succeeded in soothing him and had him on his feet again when he collapsed. Realising that there was something seriously wrong, I saw him safely on to a stretcher but he died on his way to hospital. The bullet which ricocheted had entered his body just clear of the entrenching tool blade and had tom its way through the intestines to the right thigh. When the news of his death reached me I had left my hole for a breather and was asking Fry and another petty officer why the boy should have called for me, when there was another burst of fire. Fry and I remained upstanding. So did the other petty officer, of whom you will hear more as my story progresses, but this petty officer took cover behind Fry’s body and mine. All three escaped injury, I was dismissing the unpardonable offence as perhaps unintentional when, following further fire he again placed himself behind us. Fry saw the move and smiled cynically.

On reaching camp I found that some of my old friends had not forgotten me. Quite a number of nice parcels had arrived and a few letters, including one from home. From this letter I learned that my brother had joined the forces. While making for his work one day he saw a female with a face of brass offering white feathers to young men not in uniform. This was too much for him. That same day he went to the nearest Recruiting Officer and joined the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. A place was found for him in the first battalion, and after a few weeks of training he was despatched to the Vardar front. There he served throughout the campaign and returned home wounded and diseased to die a lingering death.

My parents did not complain about his going. There was not even any mention of the vultures at home who were exploiting the essentials of life, and forcing up the cost of living. That piece of information came to me from my comrades, some of whom were ahnost distracted at the thought of their old folk at home fleeced by people, titled and otherwise, who had promised equality of sacrifice and had asked us to pledge our lives if necessary, on the strength of that promise. But by far the most revolting piece of news that reached me was that when a boy died of wounds and had been buried in his blood-stained blanket, the ghouls in their funk holes on the Home Front docked the cost of the blanket from the balance at his credit before handing the balance over to his parents or relatives. And were there so many instances where no money was handed over at all - money which disappeared in an orgy of organised thieving, indulged in by people who were saved from being pounded to pulp, by the flowing blood of the men they robbed?

The "Peninsula Press" was still going strong. One interesting news item acquainted us of the fact that a General had been evacuated to England suffering from slight sun-stroke. It seemed to me unjust to evacuate a regular soldier with such a complaint, and I wondered if any ranker with a similar disability would have succeeded in getting to England on the strength of it. There were citizen soldiers about me who were seriously affected by the sun, but they were forced to carry on by a compelling conscience - nothing less than a serious wound or a raging fever would have separated them from their perilous duty. This discrimination between the lofty and the lowly on the field of battle began to sap my faith in our vaunted ideals; but ruder shocks were in store for me. At Rest Camp I was included in a small fatigue party which, according to our information, was to proceed to the bakehouse to chop sticks for the bakehouse fires. It promised to be the best fatigue we had been on, as there was the prospect of the present of a pound loaf when the day’s work was done. As we marched off, the only sombre member of the party was the non-commissioned officer in charge, but this did not raise any suspicion in our minds, since Billy was of a contemplative nature and rather undemonstrative. On nearing the cliffs we began to show some interest in our rendezvous, and were resolving to give of our best in order to shame the bakers, if need be, into giving us a loaf apiece, when direction was changed and we were halted at the cemetery at Helles. Only then did Billy Laing disclose that our job was to bury some boys who had died of wounds. He expressed his regret at having led us up the garden but added that he had acted strictly in accordance with his instructions. The dead arrived in two ambulances and were laid to rest in their blood-stained blankets. As there was no need to hurry back to camp I engaged in conversation with a man whose duty it was to superintend interments. From him I learned that men who held Commissioned rank had coffins prepared to receive their mortal remains while rankers were buried as they were. This, together with the reporting of an officer casualty as Mr So-and so killed or wounded, and of a non-commissioned officer or able seaman as C2. 123 killed or wounded brought me face-to-face with the stark reality that I was now merely a number and no longer a being with heart and soul.

With fatigue duties increasing when we were supposed to be resting it became a matter of indifference whether we were in the line or out of it. The lack of reinforcements had left us strong enough for trench duty only, and with a weakened garrison came the need for stronger protective belts of wire. This meant more work in the line. The first job of this kind fell to Fordham. It was a particularly risky one, as a distance of not more than eighty yards separated the opposing forces. Fordharn passed along our Fire trench surveying the ground with the aid of a periscope. When the Turks had nothing of importance on hand they seemed to take a fiendish delight in smashing periscopes, and when he observed from the point where Popham and I were stationed, bang went his glass eye and the splintered glass rolled down the funnel. He gaped in astonishment at me and then at Popharn; the splintered glass had fixed his eyes so that he could not blink. The officer on duty immediately despatched him to the rear, and I felt sure I had lost another old friend. Judge my surprise when he reappeared the following evening and insisted on finishing the task which had been delegated to him.

When darkness fell, concertina wire was placed over the parapet and Fordham’s little party set to work. On account of the nearness of the enemy he found it impossible to use staples for fear of betraying his whereabouts, and he was forced to drag the decomposing bodies of our dead through the wire in order to fix it in position. I was greatly relieved when he returned safely to the trench but I saw little of him until we reached the Rest Camp again. Fordham and I always slept together, and now we found it necessary to nestle into each other, for the nights were clammy and cold. Ralph usually slept like a toper, but that night he was so restless that I was thankful his boots had been removed otherwise I should have been a casualty and a bad one at that. Next day he was busy as usual; it was the late afternoon before I got a glimpse of him. I then observed a strange look in his eye, and after tea I succeeded in persuading him to lie down, for I could see that he was far away. I too went under the blankets earlier than usual hoping and trusting that sound sleep would ensue. Both of us got a good start, but throughout the night I was awakened regularly by my sleeping partner kicking, tossing and turning. I was doing my best to compose him when, on one of his rolls, he gave me a whiff of his breath, which smelt like nothing else on earth. My stomach turned and sleep took wings: until "Wakee, wakee" came round again I rolled to the right when Fordham rolled to right and to the left when he rolled to the left in order to escape his breath. On waking he looked madly strange and resisted my efforts to get him off to the Doctor. Eventually he agreed, and, soon afterwards he returned to muster some gear, telling me at the same time that he was being evacuated with a temperature of one hundred and four.

I began to feel "dickey" myself, and when I saw that my urine resembled a mixture of treacle and syrup, I thought it time to consult the Doctor also. It was my first experience of the kind, and on being asked what I complained of I ventured to suggest that I was suffering from influenza. "It’s not for you to tell me what your trouble is; that’s my job," the Doctor rapped out. This unexpected reproof quite unsaddled me and the symptoms I advanced caused the medicine man to order for a good dose of caster oil while he directed that I be put on light duty for two days. After swallowing the oil, I asked the medical orderly if he knew Fordham. He replied yes, adding that Fordham. was suffering from Paratyphoid fever; and since it took weeks for my head to clear I strongly believe that Fordham left a good dose of it behind him.

Apart from Fordham’s misfortune, nothing of outstanding interest happened during this time down, save perhaps that I learned of the fate of Hillier and Perkins. It transpired that on the Benbow break-up they were transferred to the "Ansons" and went with them to Suvla Bay. In common with the other Ansons they were exceedingly annoyed at having to take part in the new landing, but when the landing had been effected and the battalion was made to fetch and carry for the troops ahead, my old friends felt they had something to grouse about. There must have been slackness somewhere, for both of them, having elected to carry forward rum, were allowed to do so. As the carrying party proceeded on its way they slackened pace and indulged in a game of bullynuts with the rum jars, with the result that one broke. It would have been easy for them to have invented a plausible excuse, but the temptation to imbibe was too strong and they were found speechless beside the broken rum jar. Being Naval ratings they were taken aboard HMS Swiftsure to be Court-Martialled. I cannot remember what sentence was imposed, but it was to be served at Malta, where the "pukka" naval disciplinarians enjoyed the reputation of being able to tame lions. After sentence the culprits were accommodated temporarily in the Guard Room at the bottom of the ship, where the temperature was in marked contrast to that obtaining on the Peninsula. As a consequence both developed pneumonia, and on arrival of the Swiftsure at Mudros, the rascals were transferred perforce to a magnificent hospital ship on which they recovered their normal health on the way to England. What happened to the worthies afterwards is a closed book to me.

Our sector in the fine remained unchanged, so that in effecting relief we had still to cross the open by platoons, in worm formation. Although the summer was well advanced, occasionally the heat seemed to be more oppressive than in mid-summer. Happily, it was tempered at times by a balmy breeze, which came from the direction of the magic hill Achi Baba and which, more often than not, was free from the smell of the dead. A current of air swept down the Mule Track but with it was wafted a film of finely powered sand. The sand had been disturbed by the trampling of men and mules in front, and as our Company brought up the rear there was no escaping the plague until we reached the fire area. Fortunately our company were to garrison the Reserve trench, and into it we dashed, scowling and cursing and spitting. I doubt if there was one calm soul in the Company. But the scene changed with remarkable suddenness; each man began to gape at the other, and as mirrors were as rare as powder pulls each had to accept the other’s evidence as final. The faces I saw were the funniest I had ever seen. A thick coating of sand dust covered the skin and filled in any holes or crevices that existed. All bore a striking resemblance to Chinamen. The eyes were bloodshot and four streams of water trickled from the four corners. Each stream had made a bed for itself in the soft sand. On the faces of the irreproachable, among whom were to be numbered another "Baby" draft, the courses did not deviate but made straight for the mouth; but on those of the hardened sinners each stream pursued a devious course. Chaffing went on apace. "Look at your dial" was met with "Look at your own" and bursts of the heartiest laughter rent the air.

Good humour prevailed during the term in Reserve notwithstanding two rather unpleasant incidents, one of which was serious to a degree, and the other rather annoying. It was Fry’s turn to visit me. He duly arrived belching out the smoke of cheap tobacco and anything else that would burn in his drooping pipe. He then settled down to read me some letters from home when the petty officer who had used our bodies for cover came tearing into our fire bay. In excited tones he related that a large snake had dropped into his fire bay and that he had escaped by the skin of his teeth. Fry naturally asked if he had left anyone in the bay, and he confessed without a blush that a lad named Gill was there alone. The old icicle got on his feet and walked smartly off. I kept at his heels and the petty officer brought up the rear. On reaching the fire bay we found Gill had won the fight. A the reptile reared itself to strike, he had seized a shovel which was lying on the parados and succeeded in separating the head from the body with a well-directed blow. His next concern was to keep the head from doing harm, and this he managed to do by passing a darning needle through the head, thus fixing it to the fire step. Addressing himself to the petty officer Fry explained that the snake was a female and that according to his knowledge and belief the outraged male would most certainly endeavour to find his lost spouse. The bluff succeeded, but had to be toned down later in the day out of consideration for the peace of mind of the brave who stampeded.

The second little upset had a peculiar origin. There floated down the breeze from the support trench the music and words of that well known Salvationist hymn "0! say, will you go to the regions above." The day had inspired it, for it was Sunday, and we knew that the leader of the singing was a good type of Salvationist who was not given to dogmatising. When the hymn was repeated the lads of our company joined in the singing, clapping their hands as Salvationists sometimes do. This caused no little merriment of the most innocent kind: but when the singing finished, an argument on religion followed. A rather crude Rationalist popped up from nowhere and served up the street-corner stuff about Jonah and the Whale. Singularly he had the loudest voice and believing, on this account, that he was top dog, it was quite impossible not to hear what he had to say about the silly people who believed in the Bible. As for myself he could have raved until doomsday, but when I saw the eflect his ill-timed blethers had on some of the young boys of the latest draft my monkey rose, and within a few minutes the discussion was brought to a satisfactory conclusion. "Greenie" the offender, appeared to be reading a passage from an open Bible when I arrived on the spot. I listened attentively and as he was making a dreadful hash of the business I asked in tones none too polite, if he could read. To my great astonishment he answered that he could neither read nor write. The confession burst my bubble of indignation and left me without a word to say; but from that time to the end of the campaign on Gallipoli I did not find it necessary to tell anyone that the field of battle was not the place to discuss the merits or demerits of the Christian religion or the probability or otherwise of a life beyond the grave. Unfortunately young Popham had heard "Greenie" dilate and seemed quite concerned about the souls of the wrecks that lay out there unburied in No Man’s Land; for our dead were still lying out and had the appearance of having been sprayed with petrol and set on fire. I told him how firmly I believed in a life hereafter and this seemed to give him all the assurance he needed, to carry on with a calm mind.

The enemy appeared to be quite pleased with their work and were now resting on their oars. We in turn were not in a mad mood to disturb the peace. Even if we had been so inclined, the strength of the battalion would not have permitted offensive action of any kind, for almost all the "Babies" had to be evacuated with dysentery and our numbers were now dangerously low. In addition, on account of the collapse of the juveniles, fatigues increased both in the line and out of it, and with the quality and quantity of the rations still going down, our vitality was sapped and the spirits for offensive action was going up the chimney. The old stagers were nearing the condition of mind when a wound was considered a blessing or a clean knock-out an act of mercy. As old Tom Quin put it: "I wouldn’t mind a cushey one now, but since I must work hard for my bread and butter I would prefer that the Good God took me away altogether, than that I should go back to Rotherham minus a leg or an arm."

Swainston and Quin came along to see me frequently during "this time up" and now and again Quin would ask me to read a little more from the ‘Imitation of Christ." I derived great pleasure in reading to him and in writing an occasional letter to his old mother in Ireland, for poor Quin had not enjoyed any of the great privileges which a sound elementary education bestows. The one thing he could not understand was how a Presbyterian could read Thomas A’Kempis and but for a wee bit of good sense, Tom and I might have quarrelled. Sects and schisms thrive amidst comfort and ease: neither Helles nor any other battlefields afforded facilities of the kind. With us, as with the dead, there was no creed worth quarrelling about; in the great essential all were one in Charity and therefore at one with our Maker.

The casualties inflicted by the enemy during this period were not serious. Now and the sniper’s bullet found its mark and the shrieking shell would call some others Home. Here it was that the real Swainston emerged. After sentry-go he would seek the bodies in order to give them decent burial behind the parados, and this he continued to do until the last days on the Peninsula. Relief, as I hinted before, now meant jumping from the frying pan into the fire. "Hates" were delivered morning, noon and night. The travelling guns ( the Asiatic coast co-operated with enfilade fire while those trained on the beaches could be trusted to land their shells with unfailing accuracy. So far as I could see we never enjoyed superiority in artillery fire, and the longer we remained on the Peninsula the greater was the disparity.

Of working parties there seemed no end. Our Division was kept on the trot so constantly that they came to be known as "The White Slaves of Gallipoli." As a result of overwork tempers went from bad to worse. On being detailed for fatigues, groups would sing aloud, even in the presence of the officers.

And this would be followed by muttered curses, coarse and gross. To demonstrations this kind our tolerant Company Commander turned a deaf ear. He knew and we knew things would have been different if he had had the say. Oh! those Brass Hats, what impossible people they must have been. One thing is certain, apart from their long record of blunders, they were now failing to realise that the burden they had fashioned was too heavy for our backs to bear. In the newspapers, but more often in the periodicals, which reached me at this time, I observed a growing tendency to encourage pieces from 0xford and Cambridge and titled scribblers to wax eloquent on the methods which they thought should be adopted to bring the war to a speedy and successful termination: while others from their easy chairs in London were earning easy money by assuming the role of military historian on the strength of their authorship of a few perishing novels or books of peurile essays. I have particularly in mind an article in a literary review by a Doctor of Literature. This emboldened amateur reviewed all that had taken place on Gallipoli in a manner that left me wondering where I was. He concluded with a stirring appeal to evacuate the Peninsula and send all the troops without delay to Serbia to stay the progress of the combined German and Austrian forces. In point of fact had it been possible at that time to medically examine the men of the fighting units there would have been wholesale removals to hospital. Besides, as the Evacuation itself proved, much greater ingenuity was required to get off the Peninsula than to get on to it, and this meant time.

Such were the circumstances prevailing when we moved forwards once more. As proving the weakened condition of the old stagers, it was a common sight to see them flop down in the communication trench quite exhausted under a load which normally they would have snuffed at, even on the hottest day, Another spectacle at once disheartening and disgusting was the flight of "pukka" sailors back to the ships at sea. News had reached them that there were vacancies afloat, and they never ceased to pester the officers with requests to be transferred, until they had gained their point.

The officers themselves must have found it exceedingly difficulty to keep going, for their numbers, through casualties and sickness, did not now represent a third of the establishment fixed for officers. They were spared a good deal of anxiety, however, by the stalemate in the battle area and by the invaluable co-operation of conscientious and capable citizen non-commissioned-officers.

The struggle for the Peninsula had now virtually ceased. For the best part of three months we held the left sector, experiencing to the full the monotonous and exhausting tasks entailed by Trench warfare. And yet this form of warfare had its compensations: it allowed us to settle down and give our better selves an airing. When we took stock we were uplifted by the discovery that a fair proportion of old comrades was still by our side and that the "Baby" drafts had left some perfect little gems behind. Being now considered an old hand I enjoyed considerable latitude in the line and I made the most of my privileges in getting about and conversing with friends old and new. Always I carried forward as many papers and journals as possible, and these I distributed according to the tastes and needs of my comrades.

But the greatest purveyor of news was our Company Chief. After "Stand-to -arms" each morning everyone was on tip-toe to hear Pincher Martin’s latest bulletin. Like the mule which had been shot in the ear through carrying its head too high, Pincher almost invariably toured the Fire trenches with his chin on his chest. This attitude was adopted after his recovery from a superficial head wound inflicted by a sniper’s bullet. When Pincher had no real news to impart he never failed to be diverting. In a loud voice he would put the question: "Have you heard the news?" To this we would reply automatically in full voice: "No, what’s the news this morning?" "The Swiss navy has put to sea" was one of his hardy annuals. Among others more subtle were: "Mr Asquith is now a cabinet-maker and Lloyd George is learning his trade" and "Lloyd George is getting more shells from the sea shore." When his invention failed, he trotted out the old favourite about the squire’s daughter being foully murdered. It was an ill day when Pincher could not be funny in the morning.

Of the wandering minstrels no one was more in evidence at this than Wallace, a merchant seaman. Like most of his fraternity he was a rough-cut diamond and an anti-Rechabite, but his enforced abstinence from alcoholics did not influence his jovial nature adversely. It was he I first hear singing :-

And

With one of the drafts there arrived two simple honest and well-meaning men named Dick and Zack Martin - both brothers and married men from some town in Staffordshire. Wallace took a real fancy to them and tried to imortalise them in song. This is what he produced:

This ranting rhyme was howled along the line, and as Dick bore a striking resemblance to Bairnsfather’s "Old Bill’ it became an established favourite.

In the course of a conversation I had with Wallace, I learned that he had been away from Glasgow for a long time and had joined up in St Petersburg. It transpired that on arrival of his ship at the Russian capital almost the entire crew decided to join forces and marched off in a body to the office of the British Consul. News of the affair got round the city when they left as recruits to join a ship which was homeward bound, a band appeared and played them aboard. After the band had done justice to the national anthems of both countries, Wallace and Company sang "Tipperary" and to their great amusement, all Russians present came smartly to attention.

During the quiet spell I found more titne for reading and had worked through short histories of Greece and Rome. On the margins of these and other books, I made a point of noting any happening of importance which took place during my reading, and on this account their value to me was greatly enhanced. When safely out of the line my first concern was to stow away the books I had perused in my kit bag which was stored with others at the battalion dump.

Life out of the line during this long spell of comparative freedom from fighting was very much as it had been previously. We had changed for the time being to a Rest Camp situated between the Mule Track and the cliffs overlooking the Aegean. While I continued on this spot, fairly regular batches of reinforcements arrived, including officers. A few of the old petty officers had received Commissioned rank and were shaping exceedingly well in their new sphere: so well, indeed, that I considered it a great misfortune that junior officers were not recruited entirely from serving non-commissioned officers, for, viewed from any angle, the class of reinforcing officer we received was not nearly good enough. They seemed far too young to have so much authority and responsibility thrust upon them and were much too inexperienced to be anything short of a hindrance at such a time; yet there was no end to their pretension and swank. The three posted to our company had the Kelvinside - Oxford accent to perfection; but it was as evident as day that they were little more than spoilt boys.

One of them had not been a week a "Drake" when he addressed us in pompous tones on the necessity for inoculation. At the conclusion of his ill-considered speech, he ordered those who objected to signify by taking one step forward. This I promptly did for I had been inoculated before leaving England. Mustering all the invective at his command, he held me up to ridicule as an example of one who wanted "to die like a rotten sheep". The idiot did not finish there: he called me out for an extra fatigue, and because I walked to the point of assembly and did not double, he threatened to double me in full pack round the camp. After tea that evening he had another shot at me. For perhaps the first time he had been given the job of "Mr Censor" and it occurred to the imp that he might give me the job of licking and closing the envelopes. The mail was a big one so that after I had moistened all the dirty gum-edged envelopes with my tongue, my mouth was parched and foul. In a very superior fashion he inquired if I would like a drink and when I answered in the affirmative, he pointed a supercilious finger in the direction of a bottle of lemonade and instructed me to help myself. Something held his attention and when he came to observe me again I had finished the bottle. This crowning piece of impertinence, for so he seemed to construe it, almost brought on a stroke, and with eyes flaming the "temporary gentleman" ordered me out of his dug-out. Not many days afterwards, and before this waste-of-public-money had fired a shot at the enemy, he was carried of the Peninsula on a stretcher with a fever. How he got it, Heaven only knows!

A vague depression was settling on me, at nightfall. I left our dug-out and wandered aimlessly to the rear of the battalion lines. There, in the darkness, I had my first smoke. One evening, it was a Sunday, while I was sitting apart, I heard a large company of men singing the old Scottish Psalm, ‘I to the hills will lift mine eyes." This was followed by a period of silence and later they sang that beautiful hymn "By cool Siloarn’s shady rill." Hymn, silence, psalm and paraphrase alternated. I was now on my feet and remained standing until the soldier’s hymn "Abide with me" brought what was evidently a religious service for the men of the Lowland Division to a close. As I listened, feelings of sadness and elation passed over me in turn. How I wished that I had been one of the company! How easy it was to be a Scot in a Scottish unit, I thought, and how trying in a unit like my own. Eventually my gloomy thoughts gave way to a feeling of thankfulness that I too could sing from my heart the praise I heard, and believe the message which the words conveyed, and in this frame of mind I settled down again. Fordham had returned and with his parcels and mine, we entertained the platoon in honour of the occasion.

The days now passed quite pleasantly. Of fatigues there were enough and to spare, but none was so distasteful as the July fatigue in the cemetery. After that affair Billy Laing and I had had a number of little talks together, and prior to moving to the right sector again he called and asked me to walk with him towards the beach. During our conversation I found he had had many questions to put to me, mainly about the need for religion, but it did not occur to me that he was covering a presentiment. His father, he explained, had been a Roman Catholic who had thought out of that Church and out of the feeling of any need for religion. I learned also that before leaving for Gallipoli Billy had become engaged to a girl who was a member of the Roman Catholic Church and that she had succeeded in breaking down a few of his inherited antipathies. As our talk progressed, I was struck by the earnestness of his enquiry and I told him, as I had told others before, what I considered my relation to my Maker to be. Before we returned to camp the conversation changed to the personnel of his new section, from which I gathered that they were all young bloods and exceedingly game. That was the last talk I had with Billy. We moved forward again to the right where he was given a dangerous bombing sap to improve and defend. The Turks made a raid on the sap, but the youngsters repulsed them. A bomb fragment got Billy in the back of the neck. Down he fell into the trench, but being most anxious that his young charges should not go too far, he was up again like a shot and got a bullet through the head. On hearing of Billy’s death I was sorely perplexed as to why he should have talked to me so much about religion, when a faint voice seemed to say "The Lord looks after his own".

Winter was no far off: there was a sting in the east wind. Rain clouds, dark and menacing hung low overhead, and when they burst, the Helles basin became as unpleasantly slimy as it had been uncomfortably sultry during the hot season. And yet, a day or two sufficed to show that the change was all to the good; for with the cold rain came improved health and a very appreciable diminution in the number of flies and lice. There had also been a welcome slackening of enemy artillery fire for some time; but later, with the accession of Bulgaria to the Triple Alliance, fresh supplies of ammunition from Germany reached Turks through that country. As a result, strafing began afresh, and we were pasted continually. To add to our discomfort, hail, sleet and snow followed the rain.

A blizzard which lasted four days swept the Peninsula and took a heavy toll of life, particularly among the French colonials. Their losses from exposure were so severe that they were hurriedly evacuated and the Naval Division took over their sector. No provision had been made to protect us against Crimean conditions; we stood in the clothing in which we lefl England and which was considered by the wise-men at home to be the most suitable for a sub-tropical climate. Either the "Spit and Polish" brigade in Whitehall had not the intelligence to foreseen the possibility of a winter campaign, or their benighted representatives on Gallipoli were so hopeless as not to be able to realise the need for warm clothing.

To make matters worse, the Senegalese trench system was shocking, alike in conception and in the manner in which it had been kept in condition. Traverses were conspicuous by their absence and, therefore there was little, if anything, to impede a shell which might luckily find the "lie" of a trench. But what upset us more than anything else was their foul practice of burying the dead in the parapets, parados and latrines. Colonies of rats had sprung up, and what brutes they were ! In all my experience on the field I saw nothing to compare with the rats on Gallipoli. The dead were their staple food, and as there was no limit to supply sheer gorging unshaped them in a hideous fashion. Morton was one of the first to discover that they liked to nibble at a piece of cheese. I had not settled long in Reserve when I was told off with others to take timber forward to the Fire trench in order to give secure footing in the Fire bays. The fatigue was a most unpleasant one, for the going was treacherous and at times the piece of wood which each man carried fouled some part of the winding Communication trench. When we reached our objective, almost every man had sinned his soul damning and cursing, and was ready to ram Britisher or Turk that got in the way. Morton was in the Fire bay nearest the Communication trench. Hearing us approach, he hissed out "Haud yer tongues" and espying me he said excitedly: "Oh ! Tommy, Tommy, haud on a meenit, an’ no’ a whusper, no’a whusper. " I was struck dumb, but obeyed. "D’ye see that wee bit bread and cheese on the parapet ?" he asked. I could see something on the sandbag and nodded. "Well" said Ginger, " there will be a rat at it in a meenit, and keep yer eye on the rat." I obeyed and as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, a big, fat, greasy-looking rodent crawled along the sky-line. Ginger had his back to the parados, and laying aim he whispered, "keep yer eye on that rat." This second reminder was quite unnecessary for I had both my eyes fixed on it. Just as the brute made to secure the titbit, bang went Ginger’s rifle, and although his shot did not even cause me to wink I did not see the rat disappear; that was the fun thing to Morton. He laughed his sides sore and wondered if the rat would get the length of Johnnie Turk. Following Morton’s example, rat pinging became a favourite pastime. Thus at every turn our afffictions were made to minister to our amusement, and our existence reeled off in an atmosphere of vexation, exasperation and rollicking hilarity.

Apart from Serious enfilade shelling which caused no end of repair work on our trenches, nothing of importance happened. The indefatigable Fry had found time to scout, and he asked me to accompany him to see two young heroes he had discovered. I knew it would be a waste of time to ask questions about the "Young heroes" so I followed on in silence. He led me along an Immediate Support trench which could not be garrisoned, since in parts it resembled a human slaughter house from the number of half-buried and mutilated dead which were lying about. At long last we halted, in his usual quick manner he asked me to mount the Fire step and look over. I did so and there, an arm’s length from me saw two very young Turks clasping each other in death. I was deeply moved as I looked on, for I could picture the scene at the forging of the bond which kept them true to each other, even unto death. On retracing our steps, we observed two of our Petty Officei poking their scared heads out of a very satisfactory funk hole. One of them was the Gallant who excelled during night operations at Blandford, and the other was the Petty Officer who used Fry’s body and mine as cover and who left Gill to battle with the snake while he fled.

Life in the line was now more exacting. Enfilade artillery fire from beyond the Straits closing stretch after stretch of trench and obliterating communication trenches. As our safety largely depended on keeping the communication trenches free from obstructions, all hands were kept busy throughout the night repairing the damage caused by the enemy guns. Cold rain and sleet begun to fall, forming streams of water which rushed down the front line trench and settled in places to a considerable depth. Some evil genius from snug little hole in the rear had sent up hosepipes and our ill humour was dissipated to a degree by the knowledge that our superfluous water was being pumped into the Turkish trenches. Whether the Turks retaliated by serving up some of our own medicine, I cannot say; but from that time onwards we were never without water to an uncomfortable depth in those parts of the trench in which were dips and hollows. I had the misfortune to "click" for a Fire bay where the water scurried past to a depth of about two feet. Blankets were provided to keep us warm; but with the rain now falling in torrents and the blustery wind following aggravating the rushing water, we were glad when the blankets were withdrawn since our main concern had been to keep them dry. During those awful nights, sleep was out of the question. Exercising the greatest caution, we would slip down on to the fire step, after each "sentry go" . There to squat piously hoping that the flood in the trench would not rise any higher.

As comrades in my fire bay I had two young London boys who arrived with a September draft. Normally there should have been eight men in the bay, but our battalion strength been sapped to such an extent that an average of three to a bay was about the rule. Of Peters and Vernon I cannot speak too highly. I could see that both were well-bred unspoilt Englishmen. Peters took unkindly to the cursing and swearing of his rough mates but in time he came to smile at all extravagant expressions of love or hate. Not quite so wiry as Vernon, he had occasion to consult the doctor during his first duty in the Fire area and when he returned, his heart was in his mouth. "The doctor was a brusque and unsympathetic individual," he said. Because of a scar on the neck he had asked his medical history and that of his parents. The kind but gruff doctor really wanted to send him home but the little brick would not consent, and in a quavering but defiant voice he told me the next time he went to the doctor it would be on a stretcher. I thought it a bit silly of the doctor to ask questions of the kind at such a time and place. The boy, like his companion, was obviously not able to endure the great hardships we had to face and should have been evacuated. And yet, in the fire bay, they were a pair of little terriers; for sheer gameness, coupled with good sense, they had no superiors.

In a manner, therefore, I was glad when Peters, "got one." The lack of traverses let a rifle grenade right in on us. Vernon had almost learned to swear, but Peters could still have gone to church with a good conscience; and when I heard the bang followed by "oh dear, oh dear!" I knew that Peters was the victim Rushing to his aid I found that the grenade had almost blown his foot off. I applied a very primitive tourniquet and watched him being carried off by the stretcher bearers through about three feet of water to a much kinder and very efficient doctor, whom we all loved to refer to as "Doctor Jock." Later I was told, that of all the casualties handled by Doctor Macewan, for sheer "guts" none impressed the doctor so much as young Peters. All the flesh had been blown off his foot and the leather of the boot had been wedged between the bones. There was no time for frills: the leather had to be pulled out with forceps, and although sulfering great pain, the brave lad never uttered a whimper. By the time Peters got the knock-out, Vernon seemed to be dying by inches from exposure, but no amount of entreaty could persuade him to report sick.

Swainston too, was on the unofficial sick list. As he pursued his spare time job of grave-digger 1 observed a fixed expression of pain on his face. Despite his condition, I watched the kind soul wade through water knee deep in order to recover the body of a boy who had been mashed by shrapnel. As our term of duty was nearing its close, Swainston came to me one morning looking sorely perplexed. "Didst thou see yon bright light in the sky last night, Mac?" he asked. During my night watches I had seen the light to which he referred. The December nights had been profoundly dark and the moon and stars were seldom visible, so that anything untoward could not fail to arrest one’s attention. The light I saw could not be mistaken for Chanak’s great light, for it was infinitely brighter; it was the light of a brilliant moon streaming through a solitary rift in the dense obscuring clouds. "Yes, I saw the light," I replied sympathetically. "Well I saw Christ in yon light," said Swainston. As it was the first time I had heard him speak the name of Christ with reverence, I encouraged him to continue. "Well," he added, "and when I get down the line I will see a clergyman and be confirmed." Whether he did not, I cannot say. I guarded Swainston’s little confidence jealously, and never again referred to the incident. But my concern for the fixed expression of pain on his face, increased as the days passed by.

Young Popham was also on the doctor’s hands; boils were his complaint and he was all over with them. The doctor was anxious to send the boy to hospital, but having heard we were about to evacuate the Peninsula, he pleaded that he be allowed to continue until the day of complete evacuation, in order that he might have the satisfaction of knowing that he had played a man’s part and had not been a burden. The request was granted.

Evacuation buzzes were now very prevalent. The supersession of Sir lan Hamilton by Sir C.V. Munro, did not affict us very much for we had lost all faith in people with big reputations and high sounding names, and with good reason. The buzzes would have been dismissed contemptuously had there not appeared in our trenches an Anzac non-commissioned officer who told us that Suvla and Anzac had been evacuated while at the same time, he described the harrowing experiences endured by the infantry before the operation was completed. This information accounted for the increase in shell fire on the Helles area, as can be imagined, we anticipated a none too bright ending to our attempt to get away.

On the day prior to our relief, gum boots were served out and our enquiries elicited the unpleasant information that the "Rue de Paris" - the communication trench down which we had to pass on our way to the rear was flooded to a depth of from three to four feet. On the following day, rigged in gum boots, and thoroughly worn out, we left for the Rest Camp. For the life of me I cannot say how long we took to clear that infernal trench. On more than one occasion I was conscious of walking over the body of someone who, overcome by fatigue, had lain down in the water to rise no more. Every man seemed so far gone that it was impossible to lend a helping hand to a faltering comrade. When a holdup occurred, there was only energy enough left to shout: "For Heaven’s sake, carry on; don’t stop." On emerging from the awful trench, it was a case of the blind leading the blind.

The nearest chum to me was a hardy Northerner named Mitchell. As the ranks had broken the "touch" could not be maintained, we mated and trudged on over a new road, which was paved with stones with their sharp edges uppermost. I learned later that the idea was to make it impossible for a poorly shod foe to pursue us during the retreat. The strain on our tired legs was almost unbearable and both of us had to fight a strong inclination to lie down. To sleep by the wayside would have been to die from exposure, for the cold was now intense and there was no one near to help. Mitchell stumbled and fell. During my efforts to get him to his feet I discovered that the water in the trench must have been waste deep in parts, for the seat of my trousers was soaked and water was oozing out of my gum boots. My benumbed extremities had not given me any warning; and but for the timely discovery, Mitchell and I would have joined the alarmingly increasing number of men suffering from frost-bitten feet. Divesting ourselves of our gum boots, we limped on. All was dark about us and the surroundings were strange: not a soul could be seen to ask for direction. Just as we were despairing of reaching camp we heard the voice of an officer hailing the "Drakes". The voice rang out again and again and with a feeling of great relief we caught sight of the oflicer standing on a small mound of earth. Dragging ourselves forward we stumbled on the old Senegalese camp which was to serve as our billets of rest. Here we found an elephant shelter - one of many which had been provided for the Senegalese and we decided to make it our quarters for the night. Finding that my trousers were wet through, I removed them and my pants also, using the dry part of my great-coat to protect my bare limbs from the cold damp earth. Sheer exhaustion triumphed over all my afflictions and I fell asleep. On waking I was reminded that it was Christmas Day. I made the further discovery that the men about me were not of my platoon. There had been a proper mix-up during the night, but soon we were sorted out and dispatched to our respective units.

For months our food had been bad. If the bakers had been purveying bread, the fighting soldiers saw very little of it; "square bread," as the dog biscuits had been derisively called, being served up to us with monotonous regularity. When we mustered for rations on Christmas Day and were told that our food had miscarried, an ugly scene was prevented by the announcement that the "Daily News" Christmas Puddings had arrived and, better still, that there was a pudding for each man. That day we survived on dog biscuits, a small portion of cheese, two pints of tea fairly warm, and the precious pudding, weighing one pound. I secured my kit-bag from the heap and changed my trousers. With a dry seat my temper improved, despite the unpleasant news that I had been detailed for "sentry go" over two water wagons. On the whole my sentry duty was pleasant enough during the day and my stretch from twelve mid-night to two in the morning promised well, for there was a full moon and a touch of frost in the air. I looked forward to the still hours in the hope I would have an opportunity to think over in peace and quietness the purport of the latest Routine Order which contained the following announcement;

"The Eight Army Corps will shortly be relieved by the Ninth Army Corps."

And also to study unobserved a copy of a Special Order of the Day, dated 20th December, 1915, by Lieutenant General Sir Francis Davis, commanding the Eight Corps, which had been circulated prior to leaving the Fire area and which was still in my possession. The order read :-

• "The British Troops have been removed from Suvla and Anzac in order that they might be more usefully employed elsewhere to deflect German ambitions in this theatre of war and to crush the Turks and Bulgars who have been induced to join our enemies.
• This withdrawal was carried out entirely unknown to the enemy and, thanks to the steadiness and discipline of the troops and to the excellent arrangements made by the staffs of both Navy and Army, nothing had been left to the enemy but our empty trenches. A few guns at Anzac which could not be extricated from their positions were destroyed.
• The position at Cape Helles will not be abandoned, and the Commander-in-Chief has entrusted to the Eight Corps the duty of maintaining the honour of the British Empire against the Turks on the Peninsula and of continuing such action as shall prevent them as far as possible, from massing their forces to meet our main operations elsewhere.
• This duty is one for which we are fully prepared and is only the continuation of the operations which have gained the strong position we now hold. In front of this position division after division of the Turkish Army has been worn down and so many Turks have been killed that this part of the Peninsula is known amongst them as "The Slaughter House." We can only hope that the Germans will force the Turks, already heartily sick of war, to attack us again and again, being confident that the same fate will befall all fresh troops brought against us as befell their predecessors.
• Reinforcements of artillery and increased supplies of ammunition have already arrived and further troops will be available shortly.
• In the meantime, Sir Francis Davis wishes every officer, non-commissioned officer and man to know how confident he is that, one and all, they will put their whole hearts into the work before them, and they will show both to the Turks and to those at home who are so anxiously watching our deeds that the Eight Corps will continue to do more than pull its weight.
• We must by strenuous labour make our positions impregnable, and while driving be every attack we must ever seek to make steady progress forward and maintain, both spirit and action that offensive which every soldier knows, alone leads to success in war".
• Since the Royal Naval Division was supernumerary to the Eight Army Corps there was much speculation as to whether we would be relieved with the Eight Corps or remain to be attached to the Ninth. It was common talk that our Divisional Commander had reported to his superiors that the men of his Division were anxious to remain on the Peninsula until the operations had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion. If our Divisional Commander was reported correctly, either he did not know the mind of his men, or it was a case of wishful thinking on his part. Our position appeared hopeless to any man with a spark of intelligence, yet some believed, and they were vocal, that were fated to fight on.

A party of those thus minded assembled in an elephant shelter on my beat to drown their sorrows and renew their courage. Everything would have passed off cheerfully enough if there had been as liberal a supply of good food as there was of rum; but when the run took possession of their empty stomachs and turned their heads, sentimental songs took precedence over "Rule Britannia" and the like. For two solid hours I, in my sober senses was forced to listen to the miners, when they got an innings, singing the doleful lay: "Don’t go down the mine Dad, dreams very often come true." This was followed by "Homeland, Homeland, when shall I see thee again" by the company. The Orderly 0fficer gave the songsters a long run for their money - too long for my liking, for my heart was full as they kept on repeating :

Before my watch ended sleep laid her finger on their lips of care, and I was given ar opportunity for quiet meditation on the course of events.

To the discerning eye it was evident that a general evacuation was intended. It was soon common knowledge that the Ninth Army Corps did not exist. The announcement was intended to bluff the Turks, and I believe that it succeeded to a degree. Just before the New Year, we set out for what proved to be our last duty in the line. The Up Communication Trench, which still bore the name "Rue de Constantinople." had been drained by our Engineers thus affording a comparatively dry passage. Again our company was in Reserve, with Fordharn in charge of our platoon and myself acting as platoon petty officer, although our respective ratings were still "Leading seaman" and "Able seaman." I brought in New Year’s Day in this trench and spent the afternoon watching the Turkish shells breaking in their flight above us and overshooting their mark by about thirty or forty yards. Our next move was to Immediate Reserve, and our last was to be to the front line, as it had fallen to our Company to provide the last garrison. The first days in Immediate Reserve was uneventful; but our Adjutant, Sterndale Bennett, scurried about a good deal and looked grave. The Battalion Commander on his rounds was as cheery as ever, and laughed heartily when he saw me endeavouring to shave. Despite the fact that the rations were scandalously inadequate - the allowance per day being four biscuits and two ounces of jam. with a pint of cold tea - no one complained. Even when chilly rain fell heavily, faces bore the expectant look of relief soon to come.

Swainston had been doing the round of the trench and I observed that the groups who gathered round him were being kept in the best of humour. I wondered what he was up to but bided my time. My turn came in due course: without saying a word he placed before me on the fire step rows of small cigarette cards bearing the photos of the celebrated beauties of that time, and looking his height, invited me to "choose your pick." I got the laugh of my life, but Swainston could not join me for he was much too ill. I patted him on the back and watched him move slowly up the trench to give some others an opportunity to choose their pick. Vernon meantime looked on the while and tried to smile, but that seemed beyond him.

We were now on comparatively high ground, and, looking over the Aegean Sea, the excellent visibility made it possible for us to discern a fleet of transports off the Island of Imbros, which is about fourteen miles from the Peninsula. I divined that these were supposed to be transports with the 9th Corps, and that their arrival at Imbros was part of the bluff. Lieutenant Commander Campbell paid us a visit and expressed the desire that the Immediate Support be wired for safety. Like a shot Fordham replied : "Very well, Sir, if you will send up the wire, I shall see that the job is done." The Immediate Support was well within one hundred yards of the Turkish front line, and the slightest sound was bound to draw fire. I was annoyed at Fordham’s haste to volunteer for such a risky job - annoyed for his own sake, for I feared that he might be hit when there was every chance of his getting safely off the Peninsula, and I reproved him. My admonition upset him considerably; but recovering himself he replied that there was no fear of him being killed since he never neglected to pray to be spared, and he was sure that his prayer would be answered on this as on other occasions. He saw that his apology was none too well received, and was hurrying off to select his wiring party when I called him back.

Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I could not allow what he said to pass unchallenged. "Look here, I said "I think it very wrong of you to pray such a prayer. When you joined up you volunteered to kill or be killed, if such were to be your fate, and, therefore, you have no right to petition the Almighty to shield you in particular." His confusion was painful to behold and the child in the courageous soul exclaimed with heat: "It doesn’t matter, I am going to ask God to shield me while I am out tonight."

In Fordham’s absence I was left in charge of the platoon, and at the approach of dusk I arranged the night watches; but before I did so I removed Vernon to the head of the platoon and refrained from numbering him off, for he was now very far through. No sooner did the boy lie down on the fire step than he fell into a deep sleep which nothing could disturb. Fordham’s job was successfully executed and when he returned to the trench I informed him of Vernon’s condition and it was agreed to evacuate the lad in the morning. When he awoke, it was with the greatest of difficulty I managed to persuade him that he was seeing the light of a new day and I only succeeded in getting him off to the Doctor by threatening to report what had happened the previous evening. This had the desired effect and he dragged himself on his toes to the Medical dug-out. After examination Dr MacEwan ordered him to the rear and he volunteered to find his own way, since stretcher bearers were in short supply. From enquiries I made later I learned that both his feet had been frost-bitten, and that on clearing the "Rue de Paris" he collapsed and was picked up unconscious and despatched to Egypt for treatment.

Lieutenant Commander Campbell’s good intentions had an unfortunate sequel. In the darkness Fordham’s wire had been positioned on a little eminence in full view of the Turks. Their look-out could not fail to see it and their artillery began to search the ground with high explosive. I observed that the fire was mainly enfilade, which suggested that the enemy batteries on the Asiatic coast had been contacted and were being used to blast us out. A more unenviable position could not be imagined. The fire from the "Asiatic Annies" was exceedingly well directed, and succeeded in blocking our trench for a distance of about a hundred yards. Frantic efforts were made to save the platoon in garrison and all got clear with the exception of the last section which was smothered in debris. The rescue work had to be confined to groping with the hands and in this Doctor Macewan did not spare himself. Keeping at it with might and main, his party succeeded in rescuing three of our comrades alive, but the remainder were beyond recall. A fresh burst of fire forced us to seek other quarters, which brought me close to Fry. His face was a study. I sat down beside him and asked what he thought of our chances. After admitting that they were none to rosy, he whispered: "I have a job for you on the final day." What the nature of the job was he would not divulge, remarking that I would learn in good time.

On the day prior to moving forward, our Episcopal padre burst in on us with the announcement that he would celebrate Holy Communion in the Front Line Trench on the afternoon of the day fixed for our final withdrawal, and he very graciously consented to permit dissenting souls like myself to spectate. Fordham could not have been happier if he had been made a bishop, while the fact that I promised to attend the service gave him no end of satisfaction. Before the clergyman left, the still unconfirmed Swainston arrived with his cards and created a good laugh by inviting him to choose his pick; but this the padre respectfully declined to do.

On taking over the front line, no indication was given as to how long we would be in garrison. There was a repeat of the "Silent Periods" - a very clever idea which, though simple, was a triumph in tactics. These "Silent Periods were first practised during our previous duty in the fine. Throughout the campaign it had been a first principle with us on taking over trenches to secure fire mastery; for every shot fired by the enemy, we returned two where possible. Now, during the hours from dusk to dawn he was allowed to fire to his heart’s content without challenge. This made him inordinately curious, and patrol after patrol was sent towards our line. Orders were given that the Turks were to be allowed to come right onto our wire and that, even then, fire was to be opened only on the instructions of a responsible officer. The patrol idea was later abandoned and a daring airman flew very low over our positions; but the reception he got must have made it impossible for him to observe accurately.

On the second day of our duty, an alarming situation developed. Away on the left, fierce and sustained rifle fire broke out, while the enemy forces mustered all along our front, displaying the points of their bayonets. The bayonets were so close together as to make it unmistakably clear that we were greatly outnumbered. Every available man was rushed to the fire trench and in defiance we in turn held our bayonets high. A plan of action was agreed on If they came over, we were to inflict as heavy casualties as possible with rifle fire, thereafter leave our position before they got too close, and engage them with our bayonets in the open. The plan was the soundest we could have pursued, and we waited its execution with bated breath. As time wore on the din on the left died down as if at a given signal, and following the lead from their right the Turkish bayonets disappeared. We had not long to wait for an explanation of the hostile demonstration. According to information the enemy had attacked in force when the light was good, at a point the shortest distance from the beaches; they had hoped to turn our left flank and press on if possible to Cape Helles, thus cutting off the retreat of our troops in the forward area. Had they succeeded few, if any, of our troops would have escaped. By a stroke of good fortune, the Turks attacked the Lowland Division when battalion reliefs were being effected, so that the Scots were doubly strong, and were able to repulse the onslaught and inflict heavy casualties.

As a preliminary to complete evacuation a policy of thinning out began. Our men in Reserve had already been withdrawn, those in Immediate Reserve followed, and on January 8th, the final day, our Company represented the Drake Battalion and held the Divisional front. We parted with our greatcoats and shivered in the wintry blast. There were stacks of excellent food not more than a mile to the rear, but our Quarter-Master - a "Pukka" sailor - was able to supply only four hard biscuits and a little jam to each man.

I felt fresh and cheerful as I strolled down the line to find my bearings, but towards mid-day an over-powering drowsiness fell on me and I lay down on the fire step to rest. Fearing lest I might fall asleep, I hailed Dick and Zack Martin and requested them, in the event of my dozing off, to waken me in time for the promised celebration of HolyCommunion. When I awoke, I found that before I could get on to my feet I had to shed strips of blankets which had been spread over me by my faithful guardians to protect me from the intense cold. Dick and Zack were standing by with the demeanour of defaulting schoolboys and before I could utter a word, Dick began his apology. "Do you know, Mac," he said, ‘I thought it a sin to waken you although sometimes you frightened me with your snoring. I am sure the Turks must have heard you." "Well," I replied with a smile, "I suppose you mean me to accept that as your excuse for allowing me to sleep through the service." and sheepishly both of them answered in unison: "Yes, Mac, we thought it best not to disturb you," I was curious to know where the blanket strips had come from and for what purpose they were intended. Dick could not give me any information, but mentioned that Fry had been along and had left word requesting me to call on him as he had some important instructions to pass on. I hastened to Fry and listened earnestly as he unfolded the scheme which had been conceived. In measured tones he told me that at dusk every man was to attend to arms, and firemastery was to be maintained until 8.00 p.m. when the major portion of the company, under an officer, would withdraw. Forty men were to remain and were to spread over the Divisional front. They were to work in pairs and, if possible, secure fire mastery as in normal trench warfare. This party - which was to be known as "The Last Ditchers" - accompanied by the remaining officer, and Pincher Martin, were leave at 11.45 p.m. The bombing sap was to be held by Swainston, who would go off with the eight o’clock party while Fry, with two rankers, was to follow "The Last Ditchers". As the open ground had been heavily mined and beset with traps, Fry’s job was to block the communication trench with concertina wire, supplies of which had been placed along the trench at regular intervals. His last words to me were, that I was to take position on the extreme left of the Divisional front at a traverse called "Stink Poinf’ and "bring up the rear." The strips of blankets, he explained, were to be used to cover the soles of our boots so that we might leave the trench with as little noise as possible. We shook hands on parting and he promised to call on me during the course of the evening.

When I arrived at "Stink Point" I had reason to be grateful that my sense of smell was shock-proof. An unholy slaughter had taken place in the vicinity and the limbs of the decaying dead stuck out at all angles from the high and irregular parados behind me. There was a bright moon in the sky which, though beautiful to behold, was decidedly unwelcome: with such clear visibility, I feared we would be found out.

At 7.45 p.m. Fry came to tell me that the officers had "the wind up properly" and that the officer in charge of the eight o’clock party had remarked to his colleague that it was "twenty minutes to eight," and had asked if he could take his party off. Overhearing him Fry had replied firmly: "Eight o’clock is your hour sir." This incident was followed by another exhibition of "wind up." Red, white and blue Verey fights shot up from the Turkish positions and the fearstricken officer exclaimed excitedly, "What does that that mean"? To this Fry dryly: "Merely that the Turks have captured some of our artillery lights and are trying them out." "Where are the officers?" I asked; for neither of them had been patrolling the trench. "Oh!" he replied, "They are hugging the communication trench."

The officers referred to had joined the battalion with the nincompoop whom I had offended by refusing to be reinoculated and, like him, were more ornamental than useful. I expressed surprise that our Battalion Commander had taken such a risk in delegating men of their calibre to discharge so onerous a duty, while inwardly I thanked God that Fry was to be with us to the end.

At 8.0 0p.m. I took position on the fire step, having my boots swathed in the blanket strips while on my left forearm was fixed a piece of white bandage which was to serve as a mark of identification. My first concern was to get in touch with the two men of the battalion on my left, which turned out to be a battalion of the Highland Light Infantry from Glasgow. Some way down their trench I could see a figure working towards me and having an occasional shot as he came along. He seemed in no hurry to arrive and when he did so I was astonished to find that he was a mere boy. I greeted him kindly, remarking that he was very young. I was nineteen in December," he replied. "Where is your mate "? I asked. "He’s lying down there tipsey" replied the boy, nodding his head in the direction of a form which I could discern in the distance down the trench. I called my mate and asked him to carry on with his fire until I returned, and off I went to see the happy warrior; but no efforts of mine could bring him to his senses. "Let him lie," said the boy, "I’ll get him up in time to go off with me." I got my young friend to promise that in the event of the Turks attacking, he would make use of our communication trench in preference to his own, since ours was more accessible and our front more heavily protected by wire.

My mate, a Welsh miner, had not been warned that he was to be a "Last Ditcher." When he made the awful discovery he was so beside himself that I thought he was going to lose his reason. He had come with the last batch of reinforcements and on that account I felt he had a grievance, for he had not experience enough to stand up to the strain which a hazardous venture imposed. Soft words slowly brought him round; but not for worlds would he go near "Stink Point" unless I accompanied him - it was part of the plan to cross and recross one’s mate, thus ensuring that our fire would proceed from varying positions. When he settled down I was greatly relieved to observe that his fire did not betray the slightest nervousness. This encouraged me to prolong my stay occasionally at "Stink Point" which, being on high ground, afforded an excellent view of our front for a considerable distance on each flank, when the flares were high in the sky. From my vantage point I watched the Verey Lights ascend from the Aegean Sea to the Straits such delightful regularity that I felt at once thrilled and assured. Up they shot in switchback fashion to the accompaniment of crackling rifles. That all seemed normal to the Turk was proved by his periodical rifle flashes from various fire positions; this to show that his sentries were not sleeping. Little did he know that, at the moment, his rifle crackle and the rap-tap-tap of his machine guns were to us the sweetest music under Heaven. Had he remained silent how ominous it all would have seemed to the anxious watchers of the skeleton garrisons.

As the night dragged on I perceived a perceptible darkening of the sky and looking west, observed a blanket of dark black cloud in the path of the moon. By degrees I saw the moon advance and with uncanny suddenness disappear in the folds of the dark impenetrable mass. Providence was being merciful to us in providing a pillar of cloud to hide us from our enemies.

My weary watch was brightened by occasional visits from Fry, who invariably arrived with his old drooping pipe in his mouth and no smoke issuing from it. "Are you so busy that you cannot fight up?" I enquired during one of his visits. ‘No," he replied, ‘I have tons of time, but only an ounce of tobacco, and God knows I may need every scrap of it before the night is out. Believe me, I shall puff like merry hell when I reach the sea." At 11.00 p.m. Fry made his last call for the purpose of advising me to be on the alert for the word to move. My concern for the sleeping Scot had not abated and making my way into his preserves I found him in the act of stretching his limbs and preparing to rise as for his mornin’." He rubbed his eyes and gaped at me in astonishment but my accent stilled his fear. The whole situation was so funny that I could have laughed outright as I enquired how he felt. "As fit’s a fiddle" replied his young mate "and mind yersel’ noo; we’Il get aff a’ richt." I bade them good-night and good luck and hurried back to my position.

I was now counting the minutes, and slick on time I heard Pincher Martin’s voice whispering me to come. Off I shot, and wading through empty cartridge cases which were strewn in profusion on the floor of the fire trench I reached the mouth of our communication trench as my mate disappeared round the first bend. Rushing on I caught a glimpse of some of the boys who had lost their last chance of escaping and who waited in death the arrival of the enemy. Dr Macewan and his faithful assistants had found old stretchers for them and with tender care had covered them over with blankets, leaving only their tackety boots to view. Running as fast as my legs could carry me I eventually got up with my party as they were leaving the communication trench for the open. There we halted and removed the blanket strips from our feet. When freed from our fetters, the gallop was resumed. No sooner had we set off than we found that the road had been broken up purposely by our engineers, and at frequent intervals we were precipitated, at times headlong, into holes of considerable depth. The wisdom of this precaution was not challenged, and we endured uncomplainingly. On clearing the road, from which it was impossible to stray by reason of directing belts of wire, we were halted at the first blockhouse. The officer in charge and Pincher Martin satisfactory accounted for our party to a cool and calculating engineer non-commissioned officer, and on we passed to the next blockhouse.

On passing through we had to traverse the rocky road I have already referred to. This road led us to rather high ground, part of which was lit up by Chanak’s great light, which shone with a fixed brilliancy on Cape Helles. Eski Hissarilick point on the east of Morto Bay neutralised much of this light, but sufficient remained to cause us grave uneasiness. The undeviating glare foretold that the Turks believed the total evacuation of Gallipoli to be only a matter of time. Their travelling guns had reached a point where the Asian coast outstrips the straits, thus enabling them to fire point-blank on to the beaches of Helles. In reply our monitors, which lay hidden in the darkness, belched forth their concentrated thunder and greatly conduced to our peace of mind by almost entirely mastering the Turkish fire. Treading familiar ground we arrived at "V" beach, and cautiously moving along in the darkness we came to the last blockhouse over which ruled supreme a sprightly staff officer who knew his business. Without waiting any declaration he identified our party and called the officer forward to report. With the least possible delay he passed us through and soon we found ourselves in the rear of a slow-moving column in single file. Although the darkness was profound, the sheen off the sea made it possible to see the column winding its way round the foot of the cliffs like a ponderous and gigantic snake. The dead-slow march proceeded without a break until we reached the temporary break-water at Helles and halted close to the destroyer Bulldog. (4) Whispering was a lost art with the Commander of the destroyer and when asked how many men he could take aboard, he shouted at the top of his voice "350." All our party were accommodated on his ship and were packed like herrings.

On putting out to sea we found the Aegean at its worst. The wind fumed like a demon and the sea lashed us mercilessly. Spray was light fare: frequently the sea rolled over us in lumps. But our battered bodies were now proof against such paltry annoyances. All through the night the Bulldog pitched and rolled. "Is this the Aegean?" asked a small voice near me. On being assured that it was he remarked with a snigger: "No bloody wonder John was wrecked on the Island of Patmos." After steaming for ten hours, the ship swung into Mudros harbour and anchored close to the troopship Minnesota. Her arrival was the signal for all manner of small craft to draw in close while we transferred.

Following the lead we dragged our perishing bodies up the spacious gangways of the troopship, and, once on deck, were surrounded by willing helpers who removed our equipment and took charge of our rifles. I was first aware of the sense of smell; there seemed to be cocoa, cocoa everywhere with more than enough to drink. With the cocoa came prodigious supplies of bread and butter, and we gorged ourselves as we had not done for many a long day. The feast over, we rose like giddy foals and looked about us. All seemed quite normal again, and with the minimum of help we succeeded in boarding a tender which conveyed us to a point in the bay called Turk’s Head. Here we landed and set out to march to our camp which was about two miles distant.

The march was laboured and painful. At regular intervals we halted without order and squatted on the ground. Groups of men from all units looked on sympathetically at our utter helplessness and under their breath muttered, "Some of the last party."

Battered and bruised the Royal Naval Division licked its wounds. Forces were working against it, but an extensive rearguard action, including the good fortune of having officers within its structure who had access to high places. Their arguments prevailed, backed up by its hard won reputation as a fighting force. This combination helped to save the Division. It was not to be disbanded, but was ordered to France, for retraining in Army methods. Still, like a limpet it would not let go of its naval ways. Unfortunately, by clinging gamely to these traditions, they could encourage in their superiors a source of resentment and for some with their more formal army mind, a blinding incomprehension. Others, were not so confined. Indeed, a number who were posted to serve within its structure were won over. They could see through the surface gloss, finding the value of the division, that could not be found wanting. There were too many doubters, waiting to be proved right. Its reputation grew, so that before the end of the war there were few who did not value its fighting worth and even some old distracters grudgingly approved of its history.

Time passed pleasantly on the Island of Lemnos. We had arrived as winter was having her last fling. For days rain fell heavily and fierce winds brought hail, sleet and snow. The spirits of the troops however were excellent and the health good. Apart from dysentery visitations and para-typhoid fever there was little to complain about. One big grouse did arise for which, unhappily, there was no redress. Advice had come to hand that our kit-bags, containing all that we valued had arrived from Egypt, to which country they had been despatched prior to the Evacuation. I was looking forward to a change of underclothing, for the garments nearest my skin had done duty for months on end. Judge my anger and disgust when on taking delivery of my bag, I found it to contain only one pair of old socks. I had spent pounds on my kit, but what grieved me most was the loss of all my books and the notes on the margins and observations which they contained. This looting was the work of degenerates in khaki who seemed to infest Alexandria like a plague. "Was it not enough for these hounds to be allowed to dodge the fighting ? Where were the supervising officers ?" I asked in anger. It would not surprise me to learn that they too were mentioned in despatches and had managed to wangle a considerable proportion of the ration of D.S.O’s and other decorations. If I had my will, I would compel every man - general or otherwise - who served merely on the lines of communication or at base camp, to surrender those decorations which were intended solely as a reward for valour on the field of battle. When the "square" men clamoured for medals why did those in authority not shovel out the O.B.E. ?

The stock of clergymen had fallen in my estimation and a rather unpleasant experience with one did not not encourage me to revise my opinion of them. One day as I was returning from a village some two miles from our camp an attack of dysentery gripped me and I made for the nearest latrine. In my path stood a supercilious young thing in a dog collar who dared me to use the latrine, although he could not fail to see that I was in pain and in need of instant relief "Look here, you," he yelped "That’s an officer’s latrine." The dysentery urge was stronger than my will or intention, and in I bolted leaving the upstart fulminating outside. This incident served to remind me of the ever widening breach that existed between officers and men, but more evidence was to follow.

General Paris was justly proud of his division, and whether it was his intention to visit all battalions in turn in order to express his appreciation, I know not. Suffice it to say that the "Hoods" were paraded for the General’s inspection; and after saying some nice things, he announced his intention of giving the officers leave to England and the men, if they cared, leave to Malta. His speech was listened to in silence, but when the acting commander called for three cheers for the General, the gallant Hoods gave him the "raspberry". The General went pink and in a fit of choler cancelled all leave for the battalion and confined all ranks to camp for seven days.

A friendship had sprung up between Doctor MacEwan, his excellent medical orderlies, Herbert, Robbie, Jim and myself and when off duty I visited the medical tent frequently. During one of my visits I stumbled across Andrews of Blandford fame who had incurred my displeasure on the Peninsula through playing a shady trick on a sentry in order to steal from the Battalion Commander’s larder. As Andrews sauntered towards me I observed that he was dressed like one convalescing, although he looked surprisingly fit. His greeting was so cordial and confident that I could not refrain from asking with a smile where he had been hiding himself. "I’ll tell you in a jiffy he began. "I suppose you have heard that my old pal Raff`has joined the Military Police - the last refuge of the scoundrel." Without giving me time to reply he continued: "Well, I was short of milk when we got here, so up I went to the quarter-master’s stores and lifted a tin. Everything looked O.K. when one of these new petty officers just out spied me and I got a month in clink." Where did they send you? I asked. "Oh not very far; I was taken under armed escort to Divisional Headquarters and handed over to our police. Raff was my jailer-in-chief, and he made such a good job of it that I am going back as soon as I can. You know, while you damned fools were forming fours and being messed about on dog’s meat, I found it impossible to swallow all the titbits that Raff brought me. I lay in a tent all day alone except when I was exercised, whilst at night I had umpteen blankets to keep me warm. There was only one fly in the ointment - no lights were provided; but I was up with the lark in the morning and I have read all the "bloods" at Divisional Headquarters." "And how do you propose to get back?" I enquired, "Easy meat," was the reply "I am going to knock a petty officer’s block off this time." All I could do to restrain him proved no avail. On leaving me he made straight for the quarter-master’s stores and, going up to his man dealt him a slashing blow on the jaw which laid him out. Arrest followed, and Andrews was sentenced this time to three months imprisonment at Malta.

Our Division had now ceased to be part of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force and was attached to the Eastern Mediterranean Squadron, and late in February, the Drake and Hawke Battalions were detailed for garrison duty on the Island of Imbros. When I arrived at Imbros I was surprised to find Andrews with the battalion. His explanation was that on account of the excellent reports Raff had given regarding his conduct whilst in custody, together with the inconvenience it would have caused to transport him to Malta, it had been decided to suspend his sentence and give hirn an opportunity to redeem himself.

My stay on Imbros was by far the most interesting and enjoyable in all my experience of soldering. Gallipoli was a veritable prison, but here was freedom and beauty on every hand. The Island itself was for all the world like one of the Western Isles, and the sea as beautiful though lacking in the majesty of our wild sea. But the sky above and the celestial bodies were more entrancing by far than our sky or the moon and stars as they appear to us at home. Starry nights with brilliant moonlight followed in regular succession. Occasionally the moon outshone the stars and bound the untroubled sea and land with a band of silvery light, the like of which I had never seen before. At rare intervals the heavens were clouded over and no light shone save Chanak’s great imitation. These were my nights of sadness, for a Chanak’s great light searched the Narrows and the nearer waters of the Aegean; my thoughts went to Gallipoli and the comrades I had left behind.

The starless nights also dumped our company cooks, both of whom were miners; but to relieve their feelings they invariably got drunk on rum punch and would sing no other song than "Don’t go down the mine, Dad," until their eyelids closed in slumber. One night I heard them braying to the moon after "lights out" had sounded. Fearing that their ploy rnight be spoiled for all time if they should have the misfortune to attract the attention of the orderly officer, I groped my way in the darkness to their tent which was still a blaze of lights. I had in my possession a small Y.M.C.A. song book, and thinking that that delightful little song "Sweet and Low," if judiciously introduced, might supplant their doleful lay, and lull them more speedily to sleep, I started in opposition. They stopped singing, and so did I. This gave me my opportunity. After explaining the purpose of my visit, they promised to extinguish lights and go to sleep when I had taught them to sing the song. To my dismay, "Sweet and Low" caught their fancy and for the life of me I could not call a halt. To add to my concern the orderly officer duly arrived and the three of us had to crawl out and give an account of ourselves. I was admonished and so were the cooks but from that time onwards all rurn was removed from their keeping and for long enough they were inconsolable.

Our training at Imbros was light and pleasant although food was poor and since we were some miles from the nearest village we found it impossible to purchase anything in the nature of a tit-bit. Of growls there were plenty, but they usually ended in a laugh as the wits pronounced their verdict on what should be done with the quarter-master.

What did more than anything else to keep us in tune was the respect shown to us by the sailors of the Eastern Mediterranean Squadron on account of the great reputation we had gained on the Peninsula. The most sincere admirer of all was Admiral Fremantle himself. When his ship was in the neighbourhood he never failed to pay us a visit, and in everything affecting our welfare he took a lively interest. In fact, so impressed was he with our bearing and achievement on Gallipoli that, I understand, he did everything in his power to secure the entire personnel of the Division for service afloat. But the Division was much too valuable to be dispersed and soon news came to hand that we were destined for service on some other front. Batches of reinforcements arrived and were cordially received because of their extreme youthfulness. Older men would have found it difficult to gain our good graces, for we were sore at the thought of the many mere boys who had been called upon to make the supreme sacrifice on Gallipoli.

With the coming of reinforcements, however, new troubles arose. I was surprised to see them being marched off for medical inspection and was mortffied to learn that many of them were found to be suffering from venereal diseases contracted in Alexandria. I spoke to some of the young victims and was much perturbed at the distress they evinced on coming to a full knowledge of the condition. On top of this upset we lost our Doctor, who contacted para-typhoid fever and had to be evacuated. He was replaced by a young medical fresh from the University and very raw. It was well for us that the medical orderlies were efficient, for our new M.O. had not the sense enough to hold the head when extracting teeth.

All units of our Division were mustered on the Island of Lemnos and, by the 20 April, 1916, both brigades were at full strength. On the afternoon of that day we sailed from our moorings to anchor at the harbour bar till nightfall. On our way to the bar we passed between two lines of British warships and were given a great send-off. This I thought was testimony enough, if testimony were needed, that the Division had worthily upheld the high traditions of the Senior Service. We had all been ordered below before passing the bar, and were asleep when our troopship, the Minnewaska put out to sea.

I rose before the official call in the morning and, going on deck, again beheld the beautiful Isles of Greece. During my stroll round the ship I was surprised at the number of Machine gun emplacements which had been installed and fully manned, for the waters of the Isles were the happy hunting ground of enemy submarines. I observed also that we were sailing westward and now believed that France would be our destination. It was a picture of a morning, and as the hours rolled by and the shades of evening fell we had not cleared the Archipelago. Life aboard the Minnewaska was much the same as I had experienced on the outward journey, save that, instead of being more holy, my comrades were decidedly more worldly. There was scarcely one who could not "damn " well, while Banker and Crown and Anchor were by far the most popular pastimes. The Chief Steward was more like a human being and our food, as a consequence, showed decided improvement; but as if to emphasise the imperfections of this crazy, world water was as scarce on the ship as on the Peninsula and a wash was a luxury.However, all things considered, the trip from Mudros to Marseilles was thoroughly enjoyable, thus pointing the moral that no pleasure is so much appreciated as that for which we have to toil and moil. During the cruise there was one major scare which is well worth recording. We had no sooner entered the Gulf of Lyons than the ship began to zig-zag. At first the convolutions did little more than satisfy our curiosity that submarines were in the neighbourhood. Suddenly we began to zig-zag rather violently, and all hands were assembled on deck by platoons. Of our company there was only one ‘Windy" person fussing about in search of a better hole, the rest stood staring at the shimmering light on the water, like gods defiant. For a time the zig-zagging stopped and the ship slowed down in order to allow her guns to be trained on what seemed to be the periscope of a submarine, while the machine gun crews also prepared for action. As no attack developed, no offensive action was resorted to and this wise policy the more speedily confirmed the ship’s Commander in the opinion that he had been deceived by a floating biscuit tin glinting in the sun.

Every free man was on deck as the ship made its way into Marseilles. Viewed from the bay the city looked imposing, but unfortunately, we were to see little of it. No sooner had we disembarked than a long march through dockland and slumdom brought us to an unattractive goods station in a sad state of disrepair. An incredibly large train of coaches, each of which looked as ancient as Noah’s Ark, lay in a near-by siding and, after being allowed sufficient time to purchase from hawkers as much fruit as our slender means would allow, we entrained. In the early afternoon the starting signal was given and the engine reminded us that we were not fare-paying passengers by serving up a real cattle train joIt. Bump and jolt alternated as we lumbered on clear of the town and its smells to the beautiful pasture lands beyond. All aboard were like children on a Sunday School excursion. Heads galore poked out from carriage windows and even the beasts in the fields were addressed affectionately by the happy company which had learned from some source or another that ours was a "Blighty train." According to the "buzz" there would be no halt until we reached the old country, and no more fighting before we had seen our dear old homes again. The funny thing about this "buzz" was that it was generally believed. When the engine stopped for a breather to take in water, which it did at frequent intervals, out rolled the parroting cargo onto the permanent way, while the joyful prospect of Blighty leave was discussed unceasingly without anyone venturing to suggest that it was too good to be true. There was no attempt to trace the ‘buzz" to its source: all seemed satisfied that home leave would soon be an accomplished fact. I could not bring myself to accept the news without questioning, and rather prudently tempered my desire, not daring to hope for too much; but all this I kept to myself in case my fears might have no foundation. In addition to stopping from sheer exhaustion, the engine drew up at a number of delightful villages and towns and a night’s sleep intervened before Lyons was reached. The shouting set up on approaching this city brought a considerable number of natives to the station; but to our dismay they would not enthuse. Try as we rnight, we could not extract a smile from them. I had heard a good deal about "Gay Paree" and the vivacious French, but this crowd looked as if they had come from the City of Despair and were bound for the City of Destruction. "Surely all of them cannot be mourning the loss of relatives or friends," I thought, as I observed the preponderance of black garments. No! we had struck France when her spirits were very low and when she was despairing of a successful termination to the war. "Tipperary" no longer brought free drinks nor did "Pack up your troubles in your old Kit Bag," make them smile. I was soon to learn that the French could endure the foreigner best when he was a paying proposition.

On the train toddled from Lyons and again we slept through a sultry night. On waking in the morning I found we had halted at a busy railway junction, and looking ahead I saw a large city which gave off a London Hum. We were on the outskirts of Paris. But Paris was not for the man who had to do the job. Paris was to be kept the preserve of exalted Misfits in khaki who would have left us much stronger and cleaner in every way had they been locked up for the duration. Working its way round the city our train headed north and after a few hours of jolting and bumping we drew up at Amiens. Local trains passed and re-passed packed with sombre clad and serious people who were even less demonstrative than the citizens of Lyons.

On we hobbled again, bumpity - bumping all the way, until we came to a dead stop at a stationcalled Pont Remy. I found the signals were against us, but did not think for a moment that they would not be lowered for us to pass. Yet so it proved to be. The first to leave the train was Sterndale-Bennett, our Adjutant, who looked none too happy. He was followed by the non-commissioned officers, and soon every man jack was on the track in full marching order. Although I had hoped for little, my disappointment was very keen. As for the rest, they were struck dumb. No one needed to tell them now that they had been hoaxed. What they did not know was that not more than one-third of their number would ever see their old Homeland again. A march of some ten miles brought us to a small village wherein were barns and hovels sufficient to shelter all. Tired and sick at heart we lay down to sleep the sleep of the weary, worn and sad. Neither lice nor any other crawling thing could disturb the urge to rest.

A fair morning and an aching void greeted me on rising. I had just got into my stride when I became conscious of the fact that I was alive in another sense, and to satisfy my curiosity I paraded a few "lops" just to see how they compared with their Turkish brethren. On close examination I found that the Turks held their own, but I could see no reason why French lice should exist in such numbers and should thrive so well. My section had found accommodation in a hayloft minus hay, and with only a fair sprinkling of straw in a filthy condition. The place did not appear to have been cleaned out for months, and offered a perfect breeding, ground for vermin. All the villagers seemed to be concerned about was the money due to them for their lets or for the fresh straw which they were under contract to provide.

The British soldier was no longer regarded as a welcome guest and saviour. His good nature was often exploited while his helpless condition on returning from the firing line to the lines of communication was frequently taken advantage of by people whom he was most anxious to befriend. The work of ensuring that obligations were discharged faithfully was in, too many instances carried out in the most perfunctory manner by non-combatant Britons who had found jobs behind the scenes. Their main concern appeared to be to keep on the right side of the natives in order that their own existence might be one of comfort and ease. This may sem a rather harsh judgement to pass on all concerned, but in the light of my experience in France, and in fairness to my old comrades and to myself, I could not be less severe.

Our first muster in France was a cheerless affair: it led to the discovery that the officers who had served for some time on Gallipoli, had travelled by passenger service from Marseilles to Calais were on Home leave. The feelings of the old lads who had done so well on the Peninsula can well be imagined. For days on end they moved about like men who had lost all interest in life. The Adjutant was the one live wire. He seemed anxious to acquit himself creditably during the absence of the senior officers, and in this he was ably assisted by a genial young fellow whom he had secured as assistant. Beak was the name of the newcomer, and so natural and unsophisticated did he seem that to the men of his platoon and to the battalion generally he came to be known as "Polly Beak." Beak’s fame was to spread throughout the division and farther afield. During his remarkable career as a soldier he was never known to bully his men or to use a coarse expression. Of good luck he had full measure, for although he was always to be found in the thick of the fighting, he came through it all without a wound. Many as brave died early and without mention, but nothing short of sterling worth could have carried Beak to the post of Brigadier and have gained for him the Victoria Cross, the medal of the Distinguished Service Order with two bars and the Military Cross with two bars. This, in short, describes the man whom Sterndale Bennett had chosen as Assistant Adjutant. Between them they succeeded in getting the old hands to submit gracefully to the inevitable, and the work of preparation for the tasks that lay ahead proceeded in earnest.

We were marched to an armoury where our Mark VI rifles were exchanged for rifles firing the more deadly Mark VII ammunition. This was followed by intensive firing practice on a primitive range bequeathed to us by some unit which had passed that way. During these practices rain fell heavily, and as the range was in a chalk pit, our dress and equipment were soon in a deplorable condition. I was at the firing point one day when an orderly arrived with instructions to the officer in charge to send me with six men to Brigade Headquarters to take over guard duties for a week. The six men were selected and off I marched with them to a delightful chateau situated about four miles from our billets.

On arrival at the Brigade Office, (1st Brigade HQ see page 673) I reported to the Chief Petty Officer, who took my letter, and, after ordering my companions to stand-by instructed me to report to the Staff Captain at the chateau. This was to be my first meeting with a Brass Hat and as I surveyed my shoddy attire, I felt ill at ease. On approaching the chateau, the Staff Captain advanced to meet me. To my relief I observed that he could smile quite affably. He took from me a note I brought from the Chief, and, surveying me from head to foot as he perused the contents, informed me that henceforth I would be employed as his clerk at Brigade Headquarters. I could barely believe my cars, since I had not applied for any job, clerical or otherwise. I questioned the chief as to how I had come to be chosen but he could throw very little light on the matter. His one concern was his inability to create me a leading seaman, since the War Office establishment allowed only one clerk per brigade office. I had, therefore, to take over my duties with the rank of able seaman at a pay of one shilling and eightpence per day. The Quartermaster was kind enough to clothe me and the following morning, looking spick and span, I stood to attention with the Chief and Quarter-master, when the Staff Captain entered the office. A pow-wow followed. The captain (Staff Captain, W.O. Times. See R.N.D. page 673) seemed delighted that I had a sound knowledge of shorthand and was an efficient typist. He explained, that in addition to conducting a general correspondence in connection with the Quarter-master’s branch, it would be necessary for me to acquaint myself with that part of Military Law relating to the punishment of crime on the field, and to this end he provided me with several excellent digests and a manual of military law. A perusal of the digests and the routine orders of General Headquarters, Army, Corps and Division, which were now pouring in, made it clear to the men of the Royal Naval Division were up against an army discipline which they would heartily despise. The strictures imposed were, in the main, relics of an effete and soulless system, and owed their continued existence to the blind ignorance of a General Staff which had not the wit to distinguish between the citizen soldiers over whom they now held sway and the unfortunate "beer swilling" rankers of the old professional army. It had never occurred to them that a boy from a well-regulated home, however humble, who joined up voluntarily to fight for his King and his Country, did not require to be bullied and threatened in order to give of his best always.

I applied myself diligently to the work that lay before me. From early morning till late at night I was to be found at my desk. My main concern, however, was to regain that dexterity of pencil and machine manipulation which the want of practice and the handling of a rifle and bayonet had impaired. My assiduity did not escape the observing eye of the Staff Captain who announced that since I was fated to spend so much time under cover, I would be allowed to smoke in the office without hindrance. So far I had not seen the General. I was told that he was a Scot and, for his years, remarkably alert and agile. (Brigade Commander, C.L. Macnab. See R.N.D. page 673). Eventually he emerged from the chateau and barged so suddenly into the brigade office, that the diligent staff made a sorry mess of the springing-to-attention business. "Good morning" he rapped out and sat down. This evidently was the sign for all present to be seated and proceed with their work. After the rnid-day meal I was alone in the office, engrossed in my work and at the same time enjoying a cigarette, when the General again entered at a hot pace. I heard his riding whip and cap bouncing off the table, but, having no particular desire to know him too well so soon, I did not lift my eyes from the desk. Next both his legs shot out under the table and almost simultaneously he roared: "How dare you smoke in the presence of a General Officer ?" I immediately rose and apologised, explaining that I did not know I was giving offence and that on account of the confining nature of my work, I had been given permission to smoke in the office. The Generals who can make speeches are reputed to be Few and Far between, but I feel certain that an eloquent and severe reprimand would have followed had not my accent betrayed my nationality. "Do you mean to say" he said, toning down, "that you did not know it was an offence to smoke in the presence of a General Officer ?" I gave him a further assurance that I offended in ignorance. "That’s all right, that’s all right" he replied, and there the nasty business ended.

The Staff Captain was a very active and capable little man; but I could not fail to observe that although he was a solicitor by profession, his business methods left much to be desired. He was dangerously fond of scribbling important instructions on buff paper slips, which the Army Stores supplied in abundance, and rarely kept a carbon copy for reference. In the course of time I succeeded in correcting this fault by typing the major portion of his correspondence. That my work was appreciated I was left to conclude by the absence of reproof for, being thoroughly "County" he could not lose sight of our disparity in rank and, therefore, was never too familiar. We were still waiting the advent of the Brigade Major, and in due time he arrived. His fame had proceeded him: Henderson the Chief hurried into the office to tell me that he had been introduced adding that I would like him. "He is tall, thin and full of beans," remarked Henderson, and, what is more interesting, he is a regular major in the Royal Marines." I found the Major precisely the man my friend "Hendy" had depicted and was impressed by his self-confidence. He had a glorious array of Christian names, which might have been considerably modified at birth had it been foreseen that he would elect to be a professional marine, but to all intents and purposes it was evident he was only too glad to bear the burden. (Brigade Major M.C. Festing. See R.N D. page 673)

Officers’ leave being completed and the Division now being entire, the serious work to which we were committed was soon to begin. The Brigade issued its first order and all units, including Engineers, Machine Gun, Trench Mortar, Transport and Artillery sections, moved from the lines of communication to hamlets just behind Souchez and Vimy Ridge. The noise of the guns ahead could be heard distinctly and, periodically, shrapnel and dud anti-aircraft shells fell in our neighbourhood. The Brigade office began to hum with orders from Division and maps of the Souchez sector arrived for distribution to all concerned.

Everything was going to my liking when I had to call a halt to prepare for our first Field General Courts-Martial. The accused was a petty officer of the Hood Battalion who was charged with conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline in that he had assaulted two military policemen in the course of the discharge of their duty. The circumstances were as follows: the petty officer was found in an estaminet after the hour of 8.00 p.m. by the policeman, who, not being content with ordering him out, laid hands on him and tried to eject him forcibly. The accused had the reputation of being an excellent fellow in his sober senses but a devil when under the influence of drink and, resenting the rough manner in which he had been handled, he set upon the policemen and and gave both of them a sound hiding. The Court duly assembled and was composed of officers drawn from the brigade. A Deputy Judge-Advocate prosecuted, while the petty officer had as Prisoner’s Friend a corporal from our company of engineers who, I was informed, was a qualified solicitor. The case for the defence was that the order applied only to army units, and that since the men of the Naval Division were allowed out of camp an hour later than the men in Army Divisions the policemen had exceeded their duty and were in default. So ably did Prisoner’s Friend conduct his case that the prisoner was discharged. When the finding of the Court was communicated to the General, he went red with rage and vowed that never again would he appoint officers from our division to serve on a Courts-Martial. Whatever happened, he was not to have the opportunity of carrying out his threat for, when the brigade moved forward to take its place in the line the General did not accompany us.

Before leaving the hamlets the division was reorganised and renamed. From that time onwards it was known as the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division while the brigades were designated respectively the 188th, 189th and 190th. My brigade was the 188th and I was amused to find that my old battalion was now part of the 189th Brigade, the battalions attached to our Brigade being the Anson, Howe and the 1st and 2nd Royal Marines.

The Divisional Sector which we took over was considered fairly quiet, but it was of such extent as to necessitate all three brigades being in the line simultaneously, and the adoption of reliefs within the brigade. Our reserve trench was almost in the village of Bully Grenay and Brigade Hadquarters were established in a small chateau in the main street of the village. The people who owned the chateau had cleared out, leaving behind them a middle-aged couple to look after their interests. The Brigade office was installed in a hot-house situated at the rear of the premises. Thus between the enemy artillery fire and our house of glass, stood a considerable structure of brick and plaster. Fortunately for us, Jerry’s artillery suffered from inertia. One heavy shell would have demolished the chateau and shattered the house of glass, and our feeble frames as well. It seemed an act of Providence that Jerry slept, for the less fortunate natives, and there were many, clung to their hovels and could not be separated from their miserable belongings. Occasional shelling sent the woman scurrying with their babes to the shelter of rat-infested and filthy cellars while the men folk took refuge in an estaminet which refused to close down. There they fraternised with our boys who were resting, and drowned their sorrows in free drinks liberally supplied by our kind-hearted fellow-countrymen. As can well be imagined the estaminet was seldom without its complement of seasoned warriors who held the unshakeable belief that only a shell carrying the estaminet label would find them out. So far the fates had been kind, but the shell with the label eventually arrived and took a heavy toll both in the estaminet and its immediate neighbourhood. FoIlowing this unfortunate affair I came across one or two little groups of disconsolate men carrying crosses to the military cemetery where all that remained of their comrades had been interred. As one group approached I recognised the familiar faces of old cornrades and was met with the enquiry: "Have you heard about poor Greenie? "No," I replied, rather apprehensively for I surmised by the manner in which the question had been put to me that the worst had happened. Greene was the lad who had raised my ire on Gallipoli by broadcasting his Anti-Theistic views, and when I learned that he had been killed by the shell which smashed the estaminet, I felt sad indeed. But death was again a frequent visitor, and with the duties devolving on me increasing, I was given little opportunity to indulge this frame of mind.

The new General had arrived. (Brigadier General R.E.S. Prentice. See page 53) He was the best type of regular soldier I had encountered or was ever to encounter. Well set up, clean in body and mind, competent, just and sympathetic in a manly sense; thus did he appear to me. Although the Major’s self-confidence had not deserted him, I was beginning to fear that he would soon wobble, for much of his work showed the "prentice hand," and many of his utterances left me wondering if he realised the serious nature of his duties which would confront him as the fighting developed. He, too, had found a clerk, but he never ceased to lament his clerk’s inability to write shorthand, notwithstanding his own inability to dictate.

So far as I could ascertain, life in the line was mainly an affair of working parties. Consequent upon the bad weather of the previous winter, the trench systems were in such as state of disrepair that the task of making them serviceable was considerable. The constant employment of the troops kept me busy. Although at this time I had no connection with Intelligence and Operations, I began to be in demand for any important bit of General Staff work that cropped up; but with normal trench warfare, obtaining the additional claims on my time were never too exacting and were sometimes welcome. My own job, however, was becoming increasingly interesting. I was meeting all kinds of people, but particularly adjutants of battalions and clergymen. This close up view of clergymen proved the most disconcerting of all my experience on the field. I had always been keenly interested in them and in the advancement of religion: the poor advocacy of the cause of Christ and His Kingdom was, therefore, all the more painful to me. Not being lazy, I was not content merely to include details of religious services in routine order the formal way. Despite the constant shortage of paper, I always managed to produce a special circular, and a good supply was dispatched to each clergyman. For my pains the English clergy called to remind me that in subsequent issues, particulars of Episcopal services must continue to take precedence over those of other denominations. This he did in so superior a fashion as to leave me wondering how he could call himself a Christian. I observed him later in conversation with the Staff Captain, and how obsequious was his demeanour. I think it was a big mistake to make officers of clergymen. Far too many of them were officers first and officers always. Immature imprudent types were not uncommon and were more responsible than other cause I know of for the estrangement which exists today between so many citizen ex-servicemen and the church of their fathers.

Our stay in the Souchez sector was to be a long one, and in order to satisfy, the discipline fiend a case for a Field General Courts-Martial eventuated, and a very sad and unsatisfactory case it was. One thing is certain our brigades were always much too seriously engaged to be able to do justice to an accused person at a Field General Courts-Martial, while the people higher up who reviewed the proceedings seemed much too "pukka" to countenance extenuating circumstances, or even to feel "the dint of pity." Next to the manner in which the citizen soldiers have been treated since their return from the war, the blackest chapter in British history must be the shooting of citizen soldiers at the coming of almost every new day by the order of Brass Hats who were either too comfortably placed to think of deserting or too far from the danger zone to be accused of cowardice in the face of the enemy, since the only enemy they ever saw were prisoners of war who were as sheep before their shearers. I shall be told that it was necessary for strict discipline to be enforced. I have been already, but mainly by men or woman who never took a risk and who saw to it that their sons were far removed from all harm and danger. To smug people such as these, army discipline was an excellent thing so long as they did not come within its scope.

My most interesting discovery at Bully Grenay was the Brigade signallers. If we had had the choosing of thern, we could not have selected a better company. They in turn were fortunate in having an officer (Signal Officer, Temp/Lieutenant S.F. Mort, see R.N.D. page 673) who commanded their respect, not only on account of his competence but because of his gentlemanly qualities and total disregard of danger. When he enthused they enthused and all seemed happy save one, who was, to me, the most attractive of them all. He was the oldest operator by far and, by common consent, the best. His one failing was a fondness for drink.

Towards the end of September the division was relieved and returned to the lines of communication for special training preparatory to leaving for the Somme. There was the constant hum in the Brigade Office with the comings and goings of battalion commanders and staff officers from division and corps.

A day of rest followed our arduous preparations, and I was determined to make the most of it. I had promised myself a long walk, and had just emerged from the office when I met my old friend Andrews who was on an errand from his battalion. As he approached I stopped to satisfy my doubting senses, for the Andrews I now saw was well dressed and tidy beyond all imagining. Besides, I observed that he was wearing on his left arm a single anchor which denoted that he was a leading seaman and had charge of a section of men. I expressed the great pleasure I felt at the change which had come over him and asked him to tell me how it all came about. "I became ashamed of playing the goat, Mac," he said, "and I never got over Raff’s clinging to the job of military policeman and leaving me. His is a job that wouldn’t suit my make-up, and seeing that I am to be a soldier, I’m going to play the game." "I am so glad and I hope you will be spared," I replied; but that was not to be. Before we parted he gave me news of my old comrades and promised to convey my best wishes to them.

This account is from ‘The War To End War.’ 1914-1918 by Thomas Macmillan.
Dated 11th November 1935, Glasgow. Housed in the Department of Documents, Imperial War Museum, London.

Notes & References :-

(1) The letters of Major General Sir Archibald Paris. The Department of Documents, Imperial War Museum.

(2) Lieutenant Green, who died on the 20/9/1915, see page 259 for details.

(3) Sub Lieutenant Iliff, who died 20/6.1915, see page 386 for details.

However in the Admiralty Library at Great Scotland Yard, London, in the book R-N.D. ‘Record of Officer’s Service’ ROS 182. Vol 1, page 280, appears the following details:

Alan Chadwick lliff Born 1885 and therefore aged 30 years on the date of his Commission. He had been promoted from the ranks and was formally London Z/245. R.N.V.R.

Next of Kin :- His brother C.W. lliff of Keasden, Feldon, Boxmoor, Herts.

He obtained his Commission at the Crystal Palace on the 10 March 1915. On the 30th March 1915 he became an officer of the Benbow Battalion. He sailed with them to Galliopli as part of the M.E.F. However on the 12th June 1915 he was transferred to the Nelson Battalion. On the 20 June 19 15 he received a bullet wound to his head and died the same day.

(4) Lieutenant MeGrath, who died 24/611915, see page 443 for details.

In the Admiralty Library at Great Scotland Yard, London, in the book R.N.D. ‘Record of Officer’s Service’ ROS 182. Vol 2, page 50, appears the following details:-

Percival Wainman McCrath. Next of Kin his mother, Mrs A. G. McGrath of 4, Christchurch Road, Folkstone, Kent. He was Commissioned on 20 September 1914 at Crystal Palace. He saw service at Antwerp. On the 8th January 1915 he joined the Drake Battalion, being promoted, at Gallipoli, to a Lieutenant on the 3rd June 1915. However, he was wounded on 21st June 1915 and died from these wounds on the 20 June. He was buried at Lancashire Landing by Rev Beardmore the following day. He was to be mentioned in Despatches - London Gazette on 5/11/15. Also mentioned in Despatch of G.O.C. in C.M.E.J. 22/09/15. London Gazette 5/11/15.

(5) Sub Lieutenant Startin, who died 19/7/15, see page 482 for details.

In the Admiralty Library at Great Scotland Yard, London, in the book R.N.D. ‘Record of Officer’s Service’ ROS 182. Vol 1, page 143, appears the following details:-

Francis Henry James Startin. Next of Kin his Father Capt J Startin C.B., R.N.R Wyndlawn, Hayling Island. He was Commissioned at Crystal Palace on 20 October 1914, by the lst March 1915 he was an officer with the Nelson Battalion. He sailed with the M.E.F. on the 1st March 1915. Becoming the Adjutant & Quartermaster at the Base HQ on 11th April 1915. At Gallipoli he was wounded on 13th July 1915 with a perforated wound in his abdomen. He died of these wounds on 19th July and was buried ashore at ‘W’ Beach., Cape Helles. Mentioned in Despatch of G.O.C. in C. (M.E.J.) of 11th December 1915. London Gazette 28/01/16.