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[Page 17]
Gallipoli
27:10:15 – timed – it came with a deafening whiz, glanced off the back of the cook-house and went clean through one of the escort's dugouts as if it were made of tissue paper. It came to a dead-end half a dozen yards above The General's quarters. A second shell planted itself near the wireless pole, and a third tore a crater in the earth at the end of the gully near the Indian Camp. And then followed a fusillade of two or three shells a minute. The strong and cantankerous wind planted them in all sorts of odd places but fortunately no one was injured.
28:10:15 – To-day it is quite calm warm and sultry. The conditions of yesterday have entirely disappeared.
29:10:15 – Warmer weather prevails – there is not a breath of wind and the morning is very calm and peaceful.
30:10:15 – Colonel Braithwaite returns from Malta, after having stayed a few days at Mudros to inspect the Brigades. He is Senior General Staff Officer of the N.A. & A. Division. He has returned his usual happy self, and his reappearance is as welcome as a ray of sunshine on a bleak winter's morn. As I expected our "windy" Office will now undergo a complete reconstruction. Its present comfort is not approved of by the Colonel. It must be made more roomy, more tables and chairs provided (viz., boxes and any old pieces of board nailed together) there must be more protection from the cold and the dust, etc. etc. etc. Eh. What!
The Colonel has returned full of vigour and interesting news. Speaking to Colonel Chaytor, Brigadier-General Johnston (Artillery Officer), Major Pinwell (G.S.O. 2), and others at the door of the Office this morning he related in graphic style a story of the sinking of the troopship ---- a few days back by two Austrian submarines. Leaning his excellent frame of muscle and bone against the sandbag wall, with his arms akimbo, he told his story to an attentive audience. With extreme fascination, using his well-cultured voice with admirable modulation, expressively and earnestly, now speaking in an awed whisper, then raising his voice to express abhorrence of some dastardly act, his intonation perfect, and all the while his well-cut features working in harmony with his utterances, he told his story as an actor would speak his dramatic lines, as a master of elocution would recite a soul-stirring poem. The story was as follows:- "Well, the ---- was a cranky, ill-fitted and ill-equipped old tub, the best you could get out of her being six and a half knots. She was without wireless, few boats, and life-saving appliances – belts etc. were "nil". She left Alexandria a few days back loaded with Indian Reinforcements, in the charge of five Indian Army Reserve Officers, for Gallipoli, via Mudros. The Captain, a good fellow, was well aware of the seriousness of his task with such a cranky, rotten boat, but he was there to obey orders and was determined to carry them out. He knew full well that the enemy submarines had been accounting for an average of two transports weekly on the Alexandria-Mudros run for the last two months. Well, the ---- left Alexandria under orders to make a definite course which was judged to be the only safe course. Lo and behold, before she was three miles out a picket boat came bounding along the ship's side with sealed despatches. The Captain hurriedly tore them open, and to his amazement found that his course had been altered – he was to go round the south of Crete and then steer north – quite opposite to his original orders. It was a rather significant sign, although perhaps not fully appreciated at the time that the paper giving the altered course was not officially signed, only the covering memo bore signature. This was contrary to set rules governing despatches of the kind, but the Captain believed everything to be O.K. at the time and so off he started on the new trail. They reached Crete safely and were well on their way north before anything happened. The unexpected came like a bolt from the blue. It was early morn, the sea was in an oily calm, and not a