Early I ride up to Brigade H.Q. I find they have moved forward. I ride on past Pink Farm, to the little nullah beyond, and there find a trench has been dug leading out from the end of the nullah which I am told leads to Brigade H.Q. The trench, recently dug, is quite 8 feet deep, and roomy enough for pack-mules to pass along and men in single file to pass back in the opposite direction. All the time bullets were pinging and hissing overhead. The trench finally ended in a junction of several trenches leading in various directions to the firing-line. Dug in the sides of this junction was our new Brigade H.Q., on the level of the bottom of the trench, and taking advantage of a rise in the ground in front, affording perfect cover, except from a direct hit; on the left was Twelve Tree Wood, the scene of a bloody fight in the early days, but now used for artillery forward observation posts. Farmer, our Brigade Major, was very busy, looking ill and tired. Orderlies and telegrams were constantly arriving. The Signal Office was working at full steam—dot-dash, dot-dash, incessantly being rapped out on the buzzers. When I see the signallers at work, the scene in a London telegraph office always comes to my mind, and I contrast the circumstances under which the respective operators work. Farmer is continually being called to the telephone. Officers on similar errands to mine are waiting. It is like being in a City office waiting for an interview with one of the directors. Not very bright news came from the Royal Scots; they were badly cut up yesterday, losing all officers, except Colonel Wilson and a subaltern. Steel is dying; he was a great pal of mine, was very decent to me before the landing, landing at the same time as myself. Captain Tressider, who arrived a month ago, is dead. On our left, however, complete victory for British arms. On coming back, part of the communication trench is rather exposed and a sniper was busy after me, using all his five cartridges, but the bullets sailed harmlessly overhead. But the risk we Supply Officers take is not 100 per cent. of what infantry go through. A battery is sending high explosive shells over from Achi now, but they are bursting on the east side of this beach, and after firing a dozen shells they only slightly wounded a goat. _11.45 a.m._ I was sarcastic too soon. Asia has just fired over an 8-inch, and it has passed over our “bivvy” with a horrible shriek and exploded in the sea. They would not be able to do this if our Fleet were here, and so we say “Strafe the submarines!” _7 p.m._