ailloud, all Corps
Commanders, for I am afraid of the news filtering down to the juniors
and from them, in the mysterious way news does pass, to the rank and
file of both services. Thence to the Turks is but a step. Were the Turks
to get wind of our plan, there would be nothing for it but to change the
whole thing, even now, at the eleventh hour.

Lieutenant-Colonel F. G. Fuller, my late G.S.O. (1) in the Central
Force, came over to lunch. He is now G.S.O. (2) of the 9th Corps.

At 5.30 p.m. rode over to "K" Beach for the second time and inspected
the Indian Brigade under Brigadier-General Cox. They had to be pulled
out some time ago and given a rest. On parade were the 5th, 6th and 10th
Gurkha Battalions with the 14th Sikhs. Walked down both lines and
chatted with the British and Indian Officers. The men looked cheerful
and much recovered. In the evening Charlie Burn, King's Messenger, and
Captain Glyn came to dinner. Glyn has been sent out as a sort of
emissary, but whether by K. or by the Intelligence or by the Admiralty
neither Braithwaite nor I are quite able to understand.

Cabled the War Office _insisting_ that the lack of ammunition is
"disturbing." Also, that "half my anxieties would vanish" if only the
Master-General of Ordnance would see to it himself that the fortnightly
allowance could be despatched regularly. I could hardly put it stronger.

_Midnight._--Just back from G.S. tent with the latest. So far, so good.
Bailloud and Hunter-Weston have carried two lines of Turkish trenches,
an advance of two to four hundred yards. But the ammunition question has
reached a crisis, and has become dangerous--very dangerous. On the whole
Southern theatre of operations, counting shell in limbers and shell
loaded in guns, we have 5,000 rounds of shrapnel. No high explosive--and
fighting is still going on!

_Hi jaculis illi certant defendere saxis._

To whomsoever of my ancestors bequeathed me my power of detachment deep
salaams! How many much better men than myself would not close their eyes
to-night with a battle on the balance and 5,000 rounds wherewith to
fight it? But I shall sleep--D.V.; I can't create shell by taking
thought any more than Gouraud could retake the _Haricot_ by not drinking
his coffee.

_16th July, 1915. Imbros._ Forcing myself to work though I feel
unspeakably slack; wrangling with the War Office about doctors, nurses,
orderlies and ships for our August battles. A few days ago I sent the
f