of Engineer labour lost in a short time. I go back to our new dugout and meet a sorry sight. Our cookhouse, wherein our dinner was being prepared, washed off the face of the earth. The roof and the back part of the messroom had fallen in, covering furniture with mud and debris, and flooding the floor with water 6 inches deep. I have to go to the Corps Transport depot about some water-carts for the trenches, so, taking my torch, I cross the gully. The rain is pouring in torrents, and as I walk the rushing water from the hills washes round my feet high above my ankles. Parts of dugouts, boxes, men’s kits, etc., continually come floating down on top of the rushing stream. The thunder crashes overhead and my torch is unnecessary, for the incessant flashes of forked lightning illuminate my way. The wind beating against my face takes my breath away, and makes the climb up the high slope exhausting. I arrive at the mess dugout of the IX Corps Transport. Their dugout is intact, for it is on steeply sloping ground, but their floor is over 6 inches deep in water. They are all sitting at dinner with gum-boots on, and are a merry party. Afterwards I climb to D.H.Q., arriving breathless. Back in our dugout, the storm still raging, appearing to go round and round in circles, first dying off somewhat, then rushing back with renewed fury; it runs its wild course till about eight o’clock, when it seems to pass away over Sari Bair, leaving heavy clouds pouring their burden of rain into the flooded gullies and trenches. Towards nine the downfall slackens, and shortly after stars become visible, and the black clouds gradually roll away over the hills of Gallipoli. We have a meal of bully beef and bread, for our dinner has been washed away and no hot food is possible. The wind from the north-west still blows with great violence, and it becomes steadily colder and colder. Two of our dugouts are intact, and we turn into these and get off to sleep, wondering if the drainage system in the trenches has answered its demands. _November 27th._ We wake up to find a drizzly rain falling, blown by a strong north wind. Mud is everywhere, and the whole of the beaches a quagmire. What were once dugouts are now large puddles full of water. The system of trenches for winter quarters across the various gullies and nullahs has ceased to exist. Many of these are full to the brim with water; all have water and mud covering their floors. Twelve men taking shelter in their trench, which was roofed by corrugated iron, and which is situated in the gully in which we lived up to a week ago, have been drowned by the roof collapsing. We have orders to send up medical comforts. We send them up by A.T. carts. For the first time a convoy of A.T. carts is seen on the Gibraltar road in broad daylight.