They are good fireplaces too, complete with mantelpiece, bars, and hob. So we sit round of an evening reading periodicals a month old with the same zest and interest as we read the latest editions at home. By the papers, England sounds depressing. So we would rather be here. We do know _the truth of Gallipoli_ here. Man likes to know what he is up against. Seven Divisions at the start would have fixed this job, no ships would have been lost, and our little friend Bulgaria would have thought twice of coming in against us. All night outside we hear the crack-crack-crack of the rifles in the trenches. Worcesters did a good bit of work the other night, capturing a sniper’s post three hundred yards in front. Only two casualties over that little job; they expected more. Turks in front of the 29th have fairly “got the wind up.” We bomb and shell their nerves away. General Cayley says he is quite happy and does not want to go to Salonica, as he is looking forward to sitting round his fire of a winter’s night. General Percival says bother General Cayley’s fireplace; he wants to go to Salonica and get a move on. And so they live their lives, these men—lives full of danger, yet joking about their fireplaces. _November 10th._ Another fairly quiet day. Ships firing a bit against Turkish batteries, which are sending back shrapnel. Take up Elphinstone to Brigade and have tea at the 86th. Have some excellent rock-cakes, made by their cook. General Cayley calls in. We walk round with him to the 88th. I get awfully fed up at times, but every time I see General Cayley he gives me a spurt for a few days. I had jaundice badly about two weeks ago, and they were going to send me off, and that meant England. I got a spurt, and soon felt fit again, and have never felt so well in all my life. Morris, Machine Gun Officer of the 88th, seriously ill with rheumatism, but he is trying to hang on. Destroyers and Monitors make a practice of shelling the Pimple from the Gulf of Saros now. Amusing watching destroyers. They fire, then emit a cloud of smoke, sail round behind it, then fire again, and so on. Old Turk can’t hit back. Shelling Pimple much in fashion just now. Poor old Turk! fancy trying to get to sleep on the Pimple with big guns throwing great shrieking shells at him all night. _November 11th._ Lovely summer day. Are moving camp to IX Corps Gully. Busy arranging the necessary digging. Turks very busy with shrapnel this morning around Chocolate Hill and to the left. Battleships very angry and fire back, making a fearful noise. Old Turk sticks at it, though. General de Lisle, riding with A.D.C. and orderly, nearly gets hit. He takes too much risk and seems to have no nerves. _November 12th._