At twelve midnight he is called up on deck, and I go too and find that land is showing dimly in front. Dark, depressing, mysterious land of adventure, heroism, and death, and a chill feeling runs through me. It is the reaction after having a good time in Alexandria, playing soldiers with the little Italian boys and my little cropped-haired Russian Cossack and their pretty French governess. Oh, that little French governess! The officers and men crowd to the upper deck and bows, and strain their eyes to the black outline in front. The starlights are sailing up and down in the dark background, from the Ægean to the Straits. A distant shriek is heard, followed immediately by another, and two quick flashes burst over the beach in front, followed by two sharp reports, “c-r-r-u-m-p,” and the young R.N.A.S. officers, who have been training for months, at last are within short measurement of the real game of modern warfare. Then the land in front resumes its still mysterious outline, until, as we get close, quiet figures can be seen moving about on shore working at the unloading of lighters. We drop anchor and are informed that we shall disembark in the early morning, and so lie down again and sleep soundly till morning. _July 27th._ We wake at five and go on deck, and the old familiar sight of “W” Beach greets me, and I point out, to several officers who ask me, the various points of interest. At 6.20 the R.N.A.S. people are informed that they have to go back to Mudros, as they have come to the wrong place, and at seven o’clock, with Captains Nye and Koebel and Wilson, we go ashore in a wobbly lighter, which seems about to turn over in a rather rough sea, and we come alongside one of the piers. “W” Beach had altered somewhat. Large cemented water reservoirs had been made by the Gypy Works Department on the high land near our “bivvy,” and it seems more congested and crowded than ever. I take the officers up to our “bivvy” and surprise the others, who did not expect me, and I feel quite pleased to get back—the same feeling one has when one gets home to the family after a few weeks’ holiday. We have breakfast, and I hear that the 13th Division are on the shore, and that several of the officers of the 13th Divisional Train are just along the cliff, and so go along to see them. I found Frank Edey there, a friend of many years’ standing, and this was the third time during the war that we had run across each other unexpectedly. I was three months with the 13th Division at Bulford, so it was nice seeing them again. They are leaving soon for some unknown destination, further up the coast.