So far it has been a very quiet morning, not a single shell on the beach. The other day one of our machines dropped bombs on a Turkish transport in the Sea of Marmora, sinking her. One of our transports on the way to Suvla has been sunk, and nearly a thousand lives lost. Rumour now whispers that the Suvla Bay landing has not been as successful as was at first thought. But we learn that many more troops are being landed. We are still hoping for victory, which so far we have not tasted. Dismal news reaches us from Suvla. A Naval officer just returning from there informs us that we are digging in hard a line at the foot of the hills, and that the Turks are also doing likewise. Also, we must now face a winter campaign. No comment is necessary as to our feelings. We are shelled a little at night, but are too tired and bored to bother, and so go to sleep. I am still sleeping in a tent with Phillips, and if a shell does hit us clean while we are asleep it is of no consequence, for then we shan’t wake up the next morning with another awful day before us to live. _August 19th._ Before breakfast this morning I ride up the West Coast road, my mount being fresh and lively, enjoying to the full the canter I give him up to Artillery Road. The ride along that road beats so far any ride I have ever had for enjoyment. The soft going, though it may be rather dusty; the view—the sea on the left, Imbros shrouded at her feet by blue-grey mist, the sound of the waves gently lapping the shore on the road below; the view in front, of stately and formidable Achi Baba and of the mountains of Asia, with now and again a glimpse of the blue waters of the Dardanelles on the right. All is quiet; I might be miles from war, and yet I am in the centre of war on a large scale, concentrated in an area that would be lost on Salisbury Plain. To obtain an idea of on how large a scale the war on this little tip of land is, as far as fighting is concerned, one has only to compare our casualties here up to now with those of the South African War. And now we have Suvla Bay, where six Divisions are on shore. Passing the road leading down to Gully Beach, my horse shies badly as two 60-pounders in action on the cliff overlooking the beach fire over our heads. These 60-pounders have moved forward from their original position on the cliff by the beach, much to our satisfaction, for they were too near our bivouac, and a 60-pounder is a noisy toy.