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the gallant lads is amazing--superhuman! Went on to see Hunter-Weston at his Headquarters,--a queer Headquarters it would seem to our brethren in France! Braithwaite, Street, Hunter-Weston and myself. Some of our units are shaken, no doubt, by loss of Officers (complete); by heavy losses of men (not replaced, or replaceable, under a month) and by sheer physical exertion. Small wonder then that one weak spot in our barrier gave way before the solid mass of the attacking Turks, who came on with the bayonet like true Ghazis. The first part of the rifle fire last night was entirely from our own men. The break by one battalion gave a grand chance to the only Territorial unit in the 29th Division, the 5th Royal Scots, who have a first-class commanding Officer and are inspired not only by the indomitable spirit of their regular comrades, but by the special fighting traditions of Auld Reekie. They formed to a flank as if on a peace parade and fell on to the triumphant Turkish stormers with the cold steel, completely restoring the fortunes of the night. It would have melted a heart of stone, Hunter-Weston said, to see how tired our men looked in the grey of morning when my order came to hand urging them to counter-attack and pursue. Not the spirit but the flesh failed them. With a fresh Division on the ground nothing would have prevented us from making several thousand prisoners; whether they would have been able to rush the machine guns and so gain a great victory was more problematical. Anyway, our advance at dawn was half heroic, half lamentable. The men were so beat that if they tripped and fell, they lay like dead things. The enemy were almost in worse plight and so we took prisoners, but as soon as we came up against nerveless, tireless machine guns we had to stagger back to our trenches. As I write dead quiet reigns on the Peninsula, literally dead quiet. Not a shot from gun or rifle and the enemy are out in swarms over the plain! but they carry no arms; only stretchers and red crescent flags, for they are bearing away their wounded and are burying their piles of dead. It is by my order that the Turks are being left a free hand to carry out this pious duty. The stretcher-bearers carry their burdens over a carpet of flowers. Life is here around us in its most exquisite forms. Those flowers! Poppies, cornflowers, lilies, tulips whose colours are those of the rainbow. The coast line curving down and far away to meet
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