Part 7

8.30 p.m. Off! We set sail from Lemnos at 4.57, two boats of the A. class going out before us, but these two anchored outside while we led straight on. On coming on deck after dinner we found three warships on our starboard side, said to be the "Swiftsure," "Dublin," and "Euryalus," all in line, no lights on them or us. Our port-holes are covered first with cardboard and the iron shutters are down over it. The sharer of my cabin (Lt. G.A. Balfour, a relative of the statesman) and I wonder if we should sleep on deck, the atmosphere here will be uncomfortably close. The evening as we started was perfect, warm and absolutely calm. Now the moon looks watery and has a big halo, and wind is prophesied by the ship's officers. We drag three large barges alongside which prevent our going at much speed, and it is expected that we will reach Tenedos about 3 a.m.

April 24th.--Saturday. Reached Tenedos and cast anchor at 9.30 a.m. We had been delayed by the wind rising and the waves dashed over our lighters till they were nearly swamped. On our east we have the coast of Asia with several high hills near the coast.

All the transports--not many yet arrived but B. s. i., ii., and iii. form a little group--torpedo boats and destroyers, mine-sweepers, tugs and other small fry lie in a bay, and as if for defence, and no doubt that is their purpose, eight big battleships are drawn up in line facing the open sea. The famous "Horse of Troy," the "River Clyde," lies near, and the thought of spending the coming night on her lowest deck is not attractive. She is painted khaki on one side I see, but only in patches, the idea evidently is to make her resemble a sandstone rock--all very ingenious no doubt, but she will make a good target in spite of her paint.

I said yesterday that all the officers looked anxious, but in the evening all were their old selves exactly, and baccarat went on as usual among the younger officers who sang all their usual songs and yelled and laughed till midnight. I was in bed by ten and slept even better than usual, and it was with an effort I got up at 8 o'clock. The fact that I was in a new part and in the midst of a big fleet did not even seem to interest me very much. Nor does the thought of to-morrow disturb any one, and, as far as I can judge, it is not very often in one's mind.

We lie on the north side of Tenedos, near the foot of Mount St. Elias. Several of us were guessing the height of this hill, and none put it at over 250 feet although its actual height is 625 feet.

At 3 p.m. came a naval message ordering us all to be ready for transfer to our respective boats at 3.45--all hurry and bustle. I have loaded up and am at present guarding a pile of coats, water-bottles, etc., belonging to our men who have hurried off to the galley to get their last meal for the day. The sea has been rough all day but is now calmer, and there is every prospect of fine weather for to-morrow's murderous work. Away to the east the Asiatic coast is beautifully lit up by the setting sun, also the yellow rocks that stretch to Kum Kale on the south of the entrance to the Dardanelles, while the hills on Gallipoli are visible but in haze. From my present post I look over the Plain of Troy to the high mountains beyond. To-morrow it is to be Troy Field and the wooden horse of Troy all over again.

10.30 p.m.--Arrived on coal boat at 6.30. Place in stern fitted up for officers' supper; two lime barrels and a few rough boards form table: whisky: tinned meat: biscuits: 2200 of us on board: all happy and fit. We start in two hours: only 12 or 13 miles to go: then anchor 1-1/2 miles from land and wait for daylight and bombardment; then at proper moment rush in: said that coast is to be battered with 150,000 shells. Supper finished some time ago and am writing this in the mess I have just mentioned. Some sleeping or pretending; others smoking; I doing latter and sitting on board after trying to snooze with head on a big box and less high one in small of back; but too uncomfortable for anything, so whipped out my "bookie" and scribbled; light bad, only an oily lamp with glass smoked black, and nearly 20 feet distant. Queer scene altogether.

April 25th.--Sunday is just ten minutes old, and the ship's screw has started--we are off!

Later.--Still Sunday the 25th--5.15 p.m.

Hell with the lid off! Yes, I know what hell is, nor do I believe anyone in the world knows better. To-day I have seen shells plunging through the ship's hold in which I was, carrying off heads and legs, but my pulse has not once given an extra beat. "My word, sir," said a tar coming up to me, "you have a nerve." Tars have no lack of nerve as I have seen to-day, and I felt vastly proud of the compliment. Three of our Generals are reported on the casualty list, and Col. Smith-Carrington shot through the head on the bridge of our ship.

The bombardment commenced at 4.50 a.m. and was expected to carry on for an hour or a little over, but after twelve hours of the most terrific cannonade ever experienced in this world it has not yet come to an end. Now at 5.30 an occasional shot comes from a battleship. The constant roar has made my head ache, and I am dead tired, having worked hard all day, and I must give an account of this another day.

April 26th.--The battle of Sedd-el-Bahr still rages, and with a fury but little less than yesterday. Yesterday was a very hard day, after attending wounded almost continuously up to 8.30 p.m. I volunteered to go ashore to see the wounded on the beach. The dead and dying were here in hundreds. Before I got back to the ship at 4 this morning I had a very hot time of it, and cannot understand why I am not a dead man. We were told yesterday that a counter-attack was to be made and that the Turks intended to blow the ship to pieces with cannon, which they were to bring up in the night. When the attack did come I gave up all hopes of anything but slaughter, as the men we had on land were insufficient in number to meet a large force.

About fifty men were leaving the ship when this started, and at the sound of the firing all fell flat on their faces, and if any one dared to move he was at once fired at. Some one on a barge next the small boat in which I had taken shelter asked if he could crawl into our boat, but I dared him or anyone else to move as such movement would only draw fire on every one of us. Not a man stirred, but lay on his face from midnight to 4 o'clock. It was not till the end of the attack that I learned these men had an officer with them. As I lay in the boat I shouted to them that an assault on us was likely, and ordered them to load and fix bayonets, and to see that all had plenty of ammunition. Extra bandoliers of cartridges were passed up from the rear, each pushing these along with a clatter. All this with the red cross on my arm! And with loaded revolver in hand I was prepared to die game.

The wounds I saw yesterday were in every part of the body, and most were severe, and the death-rate in proportion to wounded will be very high, many having four or five wounds.

Snipers are giving an extraordinary amount of trouble, the ground yielding itself to numerous hiding places overlooking our beach, about the rocks on our left as well as the immense old fort. The end of the fort nearest us is now but a jumble of huge stones and is an excellent place for snipers. A number of jackdaws and three huge storks had their dwelling here and have now to live pretty much in the heavens, circling over their old home in an excited condition.

It is now but 11.30 a.m. and I have been having a rest preparatory to the advance we are to make this afternoon. I have not had a wink of sleep since the 24th.

We join up with the French this afternoon. How the guns still thunder! The "Queen Elizabeth" with her 15-inch guns thundering over our heads as we rushed in past her at close quarters seemed to make our boat of 6600 tons sink some way in the water at every broadside. I was surprised to find that the heavy gunfire gave me no trouble, although like most of the others I began with cotton wool in my ears, but half an hour of this was enough, it interfered with sounds it was necessary to hear.

Here I am writing in the midst of one of the greatest battles in history. Any bombardment this world has ever known was a mere bagatelle to this.

To-day we had a naval funeral of General Napier and Colonel Smith-Carrington. The former was killed on a barge attached to us, and the other on the bridge. No one is to be present but the Catholic padre. A number of men are to be buried at the same time. The orders I received stated that all bodies had to be got rid of before we advanced. A pinnace from a warship was signalled for and all were taken out to sea.

Our advance from the shore began to-day about noon, our men lining out along the sands and the banks above, and gradually getting forward by short rushes. Barbed wire had also to be cut. But the advance through the village was the most difficult, as the remains of houses and garden walls contained snipers. I almost shiver to look back on a mad thing I did to-day--mad because it was done out of mere curiosity. I was asked to go to "Old Fort" beyond the village, near the outermost capture for to-day to see Colonel Doughty-Wylie and Major Grimshaw who were reported badly wounded. Both were dead, and as I was about to return I was next asked if I would go to a garden at the top of the village to see some wounded men. Afterwards I went right through the village alone, with only my revolver in my hand, and from the houses sniping was still going on. I had been assured that it was supposed to be safe. I peered into a number of wrecked houses--every house had been blown to bits--and I had not long returned when sniping commenced from a prominent corner house I had just passed. The only living things I saw in the village were two cats and a dog. I was very sorry for a cat that had cuddled close to the face of a dead Turk in the street, one leg embracing the top of his head. I went up to stroke and sympathise with it for the loss of what I took to be its master, when I found that the upper part of the man's head had been blown away, and the cat was enjoying a meal of human brains. The dog followed till I came upon three Dublin Fusiliers, who wished to shoot it straight away when I pleaded for it, but one of them had a shot at it when my back was turned and the poor brute went off howling. I had done my best, when going along the fosse of the "Old Fort," to save a badly wounded Turk from three of another battalion who were standing over him and discussing the advisability of putting an end to him, but I am afraid my interference was in vain here also.

Away beyond the heights we have taken to-day the country is very pretty with plenty of trees and vegetation. Here I saw dead and wounded Turks in abundance, especially at some of their own wire entanglements, several wounded being stretched out on the wires. Their wire is very barbarous and has long, closely set spikes, and the position must have been anything but comfortable.

Another counter-attack--the third--has just been made, and one of our battleships has joined in.

The Dublins, whose officers I have associated most with, have only three of these left out of twenty-seven. I came across two of these to-day--Padre Finn, R.C. Chaplain, whom I knew well and greatly respected, I found at the edge of the sea, with his clothes thrown open exhibiting a wound in the chest. And in the village, all huddled up among long weeds and nettles I found a lieutenant who sat at my table on the "Ausonia"--Bernard. In both cases death must have been instantaneous.

Here comes a fourth attack. Our boys are to have a night of it.

To-day only about eighteen shells were fired at the "River Clyde" all from the Asiatic side, only one hitting. We were putting wounded on board at the time and most of the shots were directed against these operations.

I have had no sleep since I left Tenedos, but to-night I feel very fresh, although the day has been long and busy.

All who know are quite satisfied with to-day's progress, and the hope that the worst is over cheers one. To-morrow we will have to move on, we must keep the Turks on the run. Some of the prisoners taken to-day are German.

(Being unable in my letters to my wife to give a full account of all that was doing, my diary was meant to fill in gaps, and as I had sent home a fairly full account of the landing much is omitted here, and I will give a more extended description as seen by myself. About this time in particular my diary had to be written at odd moments, and it was rare that I could go far without being disturbed, and writing a few sentences half a dozen times a day, or even oftener, often ended in a jumble.)