I find that “W” Beach has been heavily shelled on the 5th July, seven hundred coming over in four hours. They are mostly high explosive shells, and make a nasty mess of any victim which they find. To people working in the various administrative departments, where they are continually walking about in the open, the continual exposure to high explosive shell fire is wearing on the nerves, and cases of nervous breakdown here are becoming more and more frequent. In spite of the most heavy shelling, the administrative work has to go on, and at high speed too. I hear bad news about my old mare. She was killed by a shell while I was away, on July 5th. She had been an awfully good pal to me, and we had some good times together, and I think that her name should be put in the Roll of Honour. Warham, the servant of Storey, of the 13th Division Train, was blown up by a shell yesterday in his dugout along the cliff. He was a good chap, and for a short time had been my servant at Bulford. There has been but little shelling our way to-day—in fact, everything seems extraordinarily quiet. At 6 p.m. we go down to the breakwater to bathe, and I find Frank Edey there, and other Bulford pals. And then, wonder of wonders, whom should I run into but my friend of many years, the versatile Gordon Findlay-Smith. The last time that I saw him was in Piccadilly Circus on December 22nd, while motoring. We looked at each other in amazement, and then burst out laughing. He has been here ten days, and is in a beastly place which is shelled every day, namely the Ordnance depot. _8 p.m._ The night falls quicker now, but with the same lovely colouring, and a full moon is shining. _July 28th._ See my friends of the 13th Division this morning. At twelve noon high explosive shells come over our camp and kill six fine horses. _4 p.m._ On duty at Main Supply depot, and ugh! beastly high explosive shells come over. One bursts in Ordnance depot and blows two men to bits. Very glad when I am off duty, but I would rather be here than in Alexandria. My Brigade has been away at Lemnos resting, but comes back to-night. Nothing much has been done since the battle of June 29th, which I saw, except the French have straightened their line in accordance with our move. Everything is very quiet; even the French “75’s” hardly fire a shot; but something big is afoot. Three of our companies have their horse lines dug in at the foot of the cliff in the lower road, half-way between “W” Beach and the bakery, past the Greek camp; and the cliff, which is higher than in most places, affords almost perfect protection for the animals. Officers and men live there, but it is not a very sanitary spot to live in, what with the manure and the flies and the heat. Occasionally, to make the atmosphere more savoury, a dead horse or mule is washed ashore, after having floated about for several days.