One fine chap, a Captain, has a lump of flesh torn from his back by a bomb, and has to lie in one position. As I pass along the gallery overlooking the ward at all hours of the day I can see him, either calmly looking at the roof, reading or dozing, and always in the same position, in which he will have to lie for weeks. Bombs make terrible wounds. My friend Cox, of the Essex, is on board. He was the officer that I saw limping back after the battle on the Wednesday after we had landed, and we have some chats together about those thrilling days. He and his officers were on the _Dongola_, from which boat we landed, and I have mentioned how they played “The Priest of the Parish.” I never want to play that game again. A good percentage of those chaps have gone now. There are only two officers in the Essex who have not been hit. Cox has been back to the Peninsula once, but is now going to Alexandria, sick. I am nearly fit, but bored stiff, and want to get back to my job. The sea is calm and it is a lovely day, and awfully peaceful and quiet on the ship. The stewards are very attentive; they are natives, as are also most of the crew. I always think that the nigger makes a better servant than the white man. Colonel Bruce, of the Gurkhas, is on board wounded, and has his servant with him. A ravine up the gully that he captured is now called Bruce’s Ravine. This servant at the hospital in Lemnos was allowed to sleep on the floor beside his master’s bed, and if his master stirred in his sleep, he sat up watching him intently. We all had to go before the Medical Board this morning, a R.A.M.C. General at the head. We had another burial to-day. _July 9th._ We arrive at Alexandria at 6 a.m. and berth alongside about twelve. It is strange seeing the old familiar scenes again. At one o’clock a hospital train comes alongside, with all the carriages painted white with a Red Crescent on, not the Red Cross. Curious that our R.A.M.C. should use both the Red Cross and the Red Crescent! The Australian sick and wounded are taken off and sent on board this train, which leaves at three o’clock for Cairo. At eight o’clock we go off in ambulance motor-wagons and are taken off to the German Hospital. It is a very fine hospital, now of course British, and we are put to bed and given cocoa. One of the officers of our party is suffering from a nervous breakdown, and a brother-officer of his, an awfully decent chap, who had been wounded in the arm, takes charge of him just as one would a frightened child. In the motor-ambulance the nervous broken officer put out his hand quickly and made as if to rise, and the wounded officer with his unwounded arm linked the other arm in his with a reassuring look. I think little touches like that are very fine. In the hospital one officer is completely off his head, and has to have an orderly in attendance all day and all night. Last night he shouted out in great fear once or twice, imagining shells and Turks. _July 10th._