If it were possible for all ranks, from O.C. to private, in an army fighting in any certain campaign to keep an accurate diary of all they do and see, then there could be published a perfectly true record of the development and history of that campaign, so it is not possible, and never will be, for the truth of all happenings in that campaign to be known. And it never will be in any campaign. Hundreds of deeds, gallant, tragic, cowardly, and foolish, occur which are never, and can never be, recorded. When the daily Press, arm-chair critics in clubs, etc., criticize any statesman or Army Staff, they are simply talking hot air, for how is it possible for them to judge, when their source of information is as unreliable as a “W” Beach rumour? So why waste words? Much better go and do something useful, or shut up and go and hide. War is like a big game. This war we must win—or we shall lose. If we lose, it is on too huge a scale to be through any man’s fault—it will be Destiny. At 9.30 p.m. I walk over to “V” Beach again and find much more order there than last night. Our Brigade is moving off systematically from the pier alongside the _River Clyde_. I embark with the Essex on to a small trawler. Algy Wood is with me. We are a merry party. We cast off and steam out to a paddle-boat, which we come alongside, and make fast to tranship. We are packed very closely together. The skipper makes all the Tommies laugh by shouting through a megaphone, in a deep Naval drawl, to a small tug in the offing, “Finished with you, Jessie!” and off we steam north, for our unknown fate at Suvla Bay. A Tommy expresses his feelings by the remark, “I don’t know where I am going to, but I shall be glad when I get there.” So shall I. I take a farewell glance at the _River Clyde_ and Sed-el-Bahr, and express the prayer that I shall not see either again during this war, and lie down on deck to sleep. _August 21st._ I awake at 2 a.m. and find a blaze of lights on our starboard, and so sleepy am I that for the life of me I cannot make out what is happening or where I am. There seem to be thousands of little fairy lamps, and at first I think that we are entering an English watering-place alongside an illuminated pier. Coming to my senses, I find that we are passing close to three hospital ships, which are always illuminated at night, and entering a small bay. After a lot of manœuvring, we get off into lighters and are towed for a mile, coming finally alongside an improvised pier, where we disembark, thence on to a sandy beach, where inquiries are made as to our future. I go off in search of a Supply depot, but can only find one belonging to the 11th Division. The Brigade move off inland to a place called Chocolate Hill, the other side of a salt lake, and I lie down for an hour behind some hay. I awake at 5 a.m., get up and shake myself and wander about, endeavouring to gain some information. I find Panton, with whom I go up on to the high ground behind the beach.