Turks shell us unceasingly all morning, several shells coming near our depot, but they are only light shells, and many of them do not explode. A Newfoundland regiment joins our Brigade. They get shelled while on the beach, just an hour after landing, and suffer casualties. They appear to look upon it as a huge joke. Way and Carver come back. 86th Brigade due from Imbros to-morrow. Hear that Captain Koebel, who came over with me from Alexandria at the end of July, has died of wounds. We became great friends on board the _Anglo-Egyptian_ in July. Go up to Brigade by night. Beautiful moonlight night again. Go up by car. Nothing doing. Lachard joins us now in place of Phillips. _September 21st._ Fairly quiet to-day so far. Though just as I go over to depot this morning several shells fly overhead. Horrid feeling when you are in the open. Very fine day, but flies terrible. All quiet on front. Exactly a month now since last battle. _September 22nd._ All quiet up to 3.30 p.m., when we had a very bad shelling, and there were several casualties in the valley. Fortunately it only lasted half an hour. Our men are busy making shrapnel-proof head cover. One gun somewhere by Sari Bair is very fond of chucking over, to our camps on this promontory, 5·9 shrapnel. One does not hear the boom of the gun, which I think must be a howitzer. The first warning one has of the thing coming is a sound like some one blowing with his lips very softly. This gets louder and louder, until with a cat-like shriek and bang it explodes over one’s head. Having to depend on being warned by such a common sound is of course the cause of many false alarms. In fact, a man blowing with his lips is sufficient to make another man cock his ears and listen. _September 23rd._ A quiet day, but for the usual cannonading on both sides, a few 5·9 shrapnel shells coming our way at four in the afternoon. Reinforcements arriving daily. A cold gale blowing all day. At six we have another bout of shelling, while we are loading up A.T. carts, one shell pitching right in our depot, and one of our poor chaps being badly hit, from which he is not expected to recover. (He has since died. A nice boy, only nineteen.) _September 24th._