over his face, and says that he had done a hundred yards’ sprint over boulders and rocks in record time, at the finish making a beautiful head-dive into the nearest dugout that he could see, on to a half-dozen Tommies crouching inside. We then see Phillips limping up from the beach, being helped by two Tommies. I run down to him, and we go to the 11th Division Casualty Clearing Station. We unwind the puttee of his left leg, which had been hit, when a shrapnel bullet rolls out and runs along the floor like a marble. I pick it up and put it in his pocket. It had drilled a hole clean through his leg, just above the ankle, through which blood is pouring freely. He is bound up and, though in great pain, perspiration pouring off his face, keeps smiling and cheerful. One of the most painful parts of the body to be hit is just above the ankle. When the first four shells burst he fell flat behind a big boulder, which protected all of him but his long legs, and after the third or fourth salvo he felt the sledge-hammer blow of a bullet and knew he was hit. Lying there wounded while other shells burst overhead was a beastly experience for him, and he thanked his stars when it was all over. With one arm around my shoulder he leans on me and slowly limps back to our dugout, I hoping that they won’t burst out again. I lay him on my bed; the swarms of flies that are with us always now buzz round the wound, which I cover up with muslin. I go up to O’Hara to tell him, and find there some of our D.H.Q. Staff, just back from the line, having had to clear quickly when the attack opened. When O’Hara gets back with me we find Phillips has gone off, assuring the others that he will be back in a month. The Turkish gunners were too quick for old Phillips this time, giving him no chance to read their minds. But thank the Lord he is wounded and not gone West! I miss him to-night, and feel depressed, and wonder how long I shall remain on this God-forsaken place or how long it will be before my turn comes to get hit. It is now a beautiful moonlight night, quiet, calm, and still, and an enemy aeroplane sails over, making a circle of the bay. I have got an idea that the old Turk is laughing at us now. _September 19th._ A fairly quiet day. Beautiful calm moonlight night. Have to get water up from “A” Beach to De Lisle’s Gully ready for the 86th, who arrive to-morrow. Thank Heaven it is moonlight. Go up first to H.Q. of Brigade by car. Country smells lovely. We have not been here long enough yet to spoil the land. Hardly a rifle shot in front. Go over to De Lisle’s Gully and back to D.H.Q., up to Brigade again, and once more; then to the gully, arriving home at midnight. Actually enjoyed the trip, but looking at the calm sea and moon, and the landscape of mountain and gorse, with the continual chirping of the crickets, how I longed, craved, and yearned for the day when Peace will be declared. _September 20th._