id he assisted to cut the rope by
which one of the Turkish gunners was bound to his machine-gun. To
prevent their running away we have heard that they are sometimes tied
to their guns by chains.

6 p.m.--I am back again at W. Beach where I find they have had a
perfect hell of a time. A big French transport was sunk off this by a
torpedo on Saturday.

In the morning after the fight of the 29th I met in The Gully three
wounded soldiers of the Lowland Brigade, two of them trying to put a
sling on the third, who had a smashed hand. I assisted and asked about
their casualties. One said, "We lost our Brigadier, Scott-Moncrieff,
did ye ken him, a wee wiry beggar?"

After dinner to-day I walked to the Dublin trenches with Creighton,
who was to bury some of the men killed last night. As we passed a
workshop and engineers' dump on our way back, Creighton was again
asked to bury a man. While he was doing so I sharpened my pocket knife
on a grindstone standing by, and asked a soldier if that was all the
killed they had last night. "Yes," he said, "and we had an officer
buried to-day." "Oh," said I, "when was he killed?" "He wasn't killed
at all." "Then why did you bury him?" "A shell blew in a trench on the
top of him, but we dug him out, and he was none the worse."

Another mule--but it was a horse this time--toppled down from the path
above us this afternoon. He started on his career with his full load,
but he had nothing but his saddle when he dumped himself down on the
path three yards from my sleeping bunk, after a drop of about 50 feet.
I would much rather have a whole mule flying in among us than a chunk
of shell. He picked himself up and looked scared, and went away
puffing hard, but quite unharmed except for a bleeding nose.

_July 6th._--W. Beach. What's wrong? Not a shot in our neighbourhood
during the night, and I must have slept seven hours.

_Later._--By afternoon we had a few shells, some dropping
uncomfortably near--forty-five in all, so many from Achi Baba, and ten
huge ones, with big explosions, from Asia. These last were aimed at
our ammunition dumps, where some damage was done.

At supper our Q.M. Dickie told us the following little anecdote,
which I jot down as it was connected with our Corps. One evening a
recruit presented himself at Fonthill Barracks, Aberdeen, and informed
the CO.--Captain Robertson--that he wanted to "Jine". "But we are full
up," says R. "Oh, I thocht ye wintet men." "Oh well, as