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[Page 12]
Gallipoli
9.10.15 – Mirabile dictu! It rained and blew hell last night – a most uncomfortable "preliminary canter" to what we are to experience in a few weeks. As soon as twilight faded away into night, a dense storm wrack enveloped us with whirlwind intensity, as if its sole mission was to tear the very vitals from our shelters. The black canopy of clouds which had lain dormant and high throughout the day now descended and plunged us into inky darkness through which we found it impossible even to grope. Rain poured in torrents as if Niagara had been let loose and soon converted the dusty terraces and pathways into quagmires from which our boots could hardly be withdrawn. The wind howled and shrieked like so many aerial devils and many a primitive dugout was mangled and torn to shreds. I was in the "Office" when the storm broke and I shall always retain a very vivid memory of my struggle in the inky blackness to reach my dug-out. The storm, however, did not materially affect the latter, though I spent an hour hanging on like grim death to the tarpaulin roof which was swelling ominously with each gust of wind. Early morn saw the disturbance spent of its fury.
11.10.15 – Captain Mair has arrived as G.S.O. (3), vice Captain -----. Captain Mair is just from France where he secured the Military Cross. A long, lanky attenuated Irishman, keen and full of life, and a gentleman every inch of him. Quite distinct from Captain ----- who was for ever twisting an exceptionally pretty little moustache and took more pains with his toilet than interest in his work. He was also from France, but the vista of the life here did not suit his particular fancy. There was nothing here compatible with the conditions he had enjoyed in France. "Damn it all" he remarked, "One does get tuned up with shell there, but you could get a drink occasionally and secure a comfortable bed. Why, Divisional Headquarters in France is about eleven miles back from the firing line in an up-to-date spanking house and you have your motor car, jolie demoiselles, etc. … And what the devil becomes of the mail here. In France we have it at least once a day, sometimes twice. Oh dear me, this is the last place God made." And he walked to the door and gazed mournfully at the scene before him – nothing but stunted gorse, and civilization nowhere.
Captain Herbert has gone "sick" with dysentery. Ex consular service at Constantinople and a hero of Mons, the Hon. Aubrey Herbert, M.P., was a characteristic figure whilst in camp. Tall and thin, with a small head nestling to his shoulders with unbecoming severity, he appeared to be in a state of perpetual effervescence. His face is never rigid: it is for ever crinkled with smiles and laughter. His eyes are small, dark, and beady, and short-ranged – an aftermath of his trials in France – his sight being practically destroyed by high explosives. So, poor chap, they are continually getting him into trouble because his feet are naturally crosswise and two such physical defects must inevitably clash. But he displays wonderful agility for all that. He dresses in a mauve-colored suit of high sartorial cut. He talks with the full flavour of British aristocratic ton, and is dreadfully careful of his hair, teeth and finger nails. His external effeminancy you would never associate with a hero of the battlefield. He is a living example of the hero of the modern melodramatic novel. He is always talking of the latest hair-wash, pomades and perfumes, and you can always tell his whereabouts by the trail of violet that follows his person. He indulges in Turkish Delight and often makes a meal of it in preference to roast beef and potatoes. He uses eau-de-Cologne galore. A cheerful conversationalist, he spins many a good yarn. There is no excessive aristocrat about him, but his talk displays a ready wit and a brilliant brain. He is never bored or wearied and always gets what he wants – a good trier and a bold soldier. "If you can't get anything you particularly desire from someone, make love to them, and you will be sure to get it" is one of his witticisms, and he has found it fairly successful by experience.