Part 29

Our numbers on board are 3873 invalids, and the crew and all other staffs at least 1400, or a total of 5273. We have 106 boats, each capable of holding from fifty-six to sixty-nine, so that all could be accommodated in these--if we had time which is never the case in an emergency.

Noon.--Our wireless news for the day has just been posted up. There is nothing much in it except the news that "Sicily is literally besieged by German submarines". Germany says she has accomplished her immediate object in the Balkans, whatever that is, but I understood this was to join hands with Turkey which she has not yet done. Austria is said, on the authority of "The Tribune," to be asking for a separate peace, and at home, considering the reliability of this paper, they think there may be some truth in this.

December 1st.--The steward when he brought me tea at 6.30 this morning, said "Gib." was in sight. On looking out I could see rocks but not "the rock". But it soon appeared and I got hurriedly into my clothes and quickly swallowed breakfast and was on deck with my glasses. Here was the rock close at hand, a brilliant morning, the sun lighting up the side we were nearing, a big mushroom-shaped cloud floating on and obscuring the summit. This side is bare and black with its acres of concrete rain catchments, the only means of water supply. Last time I saw it it disappointed me, but now we headed straight round its projecting south point towards the harbour and had a glorious view of the razor-backed hill, the point bristling with guns, walls, and forts, and all along the west side buildings in white and ochre, with red roofs, all lit up in bright sunshine; plenty of trees about, palms and others, and green grass which is always a surprise to me after the barren peninsula. At the northern point of what is quite a large bay lies the harbour full of shipping, its one entrance guarded by a most powerful boom. The view all round is not much behind Naples--the rock with its large and beautiful buildings; across the bridge, connecting the rock with the mainland, the Spanish town; to the left the snow-white town of Algeciras, famed for its bull fights. Behind all the great towering, rugged mountains of Spain.

We lost two hours here waiting for orders, but by 10 we had turned our head for the Atlantic, and were soon going full steam ahead. The 970 miles from Naples we covered in forty-eight hours, at economical speed. Our speed and size dwarf everything we come up against.

Before sunset we passed a small tramp steamer which halted, as we also did, and for long signals were carried on between the two of us. The passengers were unable to read these, but they must have been very important when a ship like the "Aquitania" came to a dead halt.

At Gib. we had been told that a rumour had reached England, and appeared in the "Daily Mail," that the "Aquitania" had been torpedoed.

December 2nd.--The air is soft and balmy, a few drops of rain have fallen, but the lower clouds fly fast as if a breeze was brewing.

6 p.m.--We have had a stormy afternoon, a driving rain and a 50-mile gale as reckoned by the captain. As I came along a passage a cupboard door flew open and scores of dishes fell out with a crash. In the wards bottles and tables are flying all over the place. As I was steadying myself on deck the ship's whistle gave a blast that seemed unending. There was a rush from below to the boat deck, but as there was a thick haze we decided it was only a fog signal. "Fog signal," said the captain, "I call it a d----d fool's signal. This boy," pointing to a very guilty looking little chap, "placed his back against the whistle lever, and the d----d fool never noticed he was raising hell."

December 3rd.--All last night the rolling had been particularly bad, so much so that the ship is pronounced to be much too top-heavy. I had slept straight on till 5 and did not feel a particularly heavy roll at 2 a.m., which every one is talking about, and which had tumbled a lot of people out of bed. One old sailor says he got a terrible fright, he thought the ship would be unable to right herself from her great weight, and he fled on deck expecting the worst.

4.45 p.m.--A revolving light can be seen through the mist but must be many miles off. At 3 we had all been warned off the deck as a message had been received that we were again in a danger zone. We are now near our haven, and if that light is from the Needles another hour should take us there.

Later.--We anchored off the Solent as it was getting dark. In time a pinnace came alongside, presumably a pilot came on board, so we up anchor and are now moored inside the outer boom.

December 4th.--As soon as it was daylight we began to move, and went slowly up the Solent in a drizzle and thick mist; ships no end at anchor all the way; past Netley Hospital facing great mud-flats; New Forest stretching away to the left; Cowes in thick haze. When nearing Southampton four tugs came alongside, two were attached to the bow, the other two on guard crept along with us. At last the docks appeared, we were hauled round by our tugs and went in stern first. The four tugs then arranged themselves along our starboard side, got their noses up against the "Aquitania's" ribs and butted her up against the quay wall.

7 p.m.--I expected to get off hours ago. The Military Landing Officer says the best he can do for me is to send me to Glasgow. I know what Glasgow is like in a drizzle at this time of the year--"coals in the earth and coals in the air," as some one says. It has rained all day, is foggy and altogether British, unlike anything I have seen for a long time. I can understand how our colonials come home and curse our leaden skies.

December 5th.--Sunday. We left the "Aquitania" at 10 last night, many hundreds being left on the boat for discharge next day. They had poured out of the ship by two big gangways the whole day long, straight into the private station of the Cunard Line. In half an hour we were all in our cots, round came an orderly asking what we would have to drink, tea, cocoa, or oxo? I asked if that was his full list. "Yes," he said. "No, thank you, I am going to sleep."

We reached Yorkhill Hospital, Glasgow, this forenoon, and found the town in 2 inches of snow--real white snow too.

December 7th.--Was examined by a Medical Board at 4.30 p.m. and just managed to catch the 5 o'clock train for Aberdeen. Am now in Perth where we have been kept standing for some time. The three men forming my Board said I had a well-marked heart murmur, and all three solemnly shook hands with me. Evidently their impression was that I was going home to die. They do not know how much I have improved since I left Gallipoli. I feel myself that I'll soon be at the Front again.

(Feeling ill and almost useless I had intended to ask for sick leave from the A.D.M.S. a fortnight before I actually left.) On going to H.Q. for this purpose I met Col. Bell who said he had intended to look me up to let me know the result of a conference the previous evening, when it was announced we were to evacuate the peninsula. This was a strict secret, but I had to be told about it so that we might begin at once to get rid of as much of our equipment as we could spare. After such an announcement I felt it would be cowardly to miss what all considered would be a terrible experience, and the object of my errand was not mentioned. Such an eventuality was often discussed; we felt that our remaining there for the winter would be a mistake, and no one ventured to put our losses at less than 50 per cent. of all our forces should it be attempted.

The preparations for the evacuation had been carried out with the utmost efficiency, so much so that our losses were perfectly marvellous--six casualties at Suvla, Anzac, and Helles combined. (Suvla and Anzac were evacuated on December 10, 1915, and Helles on January 8, 1916.)

1916.

March 2nd.--On February 21, I received a long telegram from the War Office, ordering me to hold myself in readiness to embark for the Mediterranean at an early date to join an overseas unit. This order pleased me, as my last Medical Board threatened to put me down for a home job, which I told them would not be at all to my liking, and I was glad to find they had carried out my wishes and allowed me to go in for General Service once more.

Then on February 28 I had the order to report myself to the Military Embarkation Officer at Devonport by noon on March 1. After a tiresome journey of twenty-two hours I reached the docks and was directed on board the Anchor Liner "Transylvania". Three medical men were down for duty to the troops on board, these numbering over 3000, with Lt.-Col. Humphreys as P.M.O.

We have some heavy work allotted to us; the order to inoculate all the troops against cholera, which means two injections for each man, is a big job in itself. Many have never been inoculated against enteric and these have also to be seen to.

The "Transylvania" is a big boat of 15,000 tons. We lie in the bay although all has been in readiness for twenty-four hours, and we believe the delay is due to the fact that there have been several casualties in the Channel, within the last few days, from mines that have floated down from the Dover end, and we are likely to lie here till the Channel is swept.

My first thought about our ship was that she was such a big target that a torpedo could hardly miss her, and as yesterday was the date the German threat to sink every armed ship at sight came into force, our danger is no doubt great. (She was afterwards torpedoed in the Mediterranean with the loss of 402 lives.) All are ordered to put on our life belts, and even as we lie here many are going about with these cumbrous things on, but most are content to carry them under their arms.

A meeting was held yesterday, and crews of two N.C.O.'s and thirteen men were chosen to man each of our fifty-five boats in case we should get holed, while the rest of us have to scramble into the nearest boat that has not its full complement.

March 3rd.--We still lie in Plymouth Bay. Rumour says two German cruisers have broken through our cordon and are somewhere on the prowl. This is the latest reason I have heard for our still lying here.

A corporal shot himself this morning, the result of a letter from his sweetheart who dreamt that she saw him badly wounded, with his head swathed in bandages. Stupid fellow, superstition should have told him that this meant a wedding. He made a clumsy job of it, and a big mess in the Orderly Room where it happened.

2 p.m.--At noon we cast off and in less than an hour had sailed through the tortuous waterway and were out in the open sea. We have two destroyers ahead and one astern. All are happy at the thought of being on the move, lying in the bay was getting irksome. All have now taken to their life belts. As a precaution against a surprise we have a submarine guard of 200 men on duty at a time. These parade the top deck with their rifles.