ll of
humanity, and the sense of responsibility was only partially relieved by
the knowledge that a higher authority would give due weight to the
extenuating circumstances that appealed so often to one's compassion.
The introduction of "suspended sentences" by the Army (Suspension of
Sentences) Act 1915, with a view to keep a man's rifle in the firing
line, and to give an offender the chance of retrieving his liberty by
subsequent devotion to duty, was probably the War's best addition to
British Military Law. Nevertheless, the duty of acting as President on
these occasions is found universally distasteful.

There were, however, two great charms in these short intervals in trench
warfare. First, it was delightful to escape to places where you could
move erect and see something besides the brown wilderness of saps and
cuts. A walk to Lancashire Landing along the coast road, between great
rugged cliffs on one side and the rippling sea on the other, took us
past the little colony of the Greek Labour Corps, and past terraces of
new stone huts and sandbag dug-outs, which indicated the presence of
Staff Officers. Looking seaward, we saw the hull of the sunken
_Majestic_, a perpetual sign of the limitations of "sea power." We could
then strike up from the beach and see the A.S.C. stores, admirably
managed by Major (afterwards Lieutenant-Colonel) A. England, and pushing
on to the top of the plateau, the whole area of warfare between
Lancashire Landing and Achi Baba was at our feet.

Even more delightful was the long series of entertainments which we
organised in the Battalion, and which eventually drew large numbers from
the rest of the 42nd Division. These entertainments were opened by
lectures on history. Our men became familiar with the history and
conditions of all the belligerent Powers, and were kept well acquainted
with the developments of the actual military situation in Europe. They
enjoyed these lectures. Education has its uses, after all. Then followed
concerts, which were splendidly arranged by Regimental Sergeant-Major M.
Hartnett, a veteran of Ladysmith and East Africa and a pillar of the
Battalion, now, alas, dead, and by Quartermaster-Sergeant Mort, himself
an adept as an entertainer. These "shows" used to start about 6.45 in
the evening, and the vision of our tired boys scattered in the fast
fading twilight on the slope of some narrow ravine beneath the serene,
starry sky of Turkey will be among our most lastin