For these reasons, and perhaps because the very names—Gallipoli, Dardanelles, Constantinople—sounded so romantic and full of adventure, I determined to revive an old, if egotistic, hobby of mine—the keeping of a diary. Throughout the Gallipoli campaign, therefore, almost religiously every day and with very few exceptions I recorded, as I have done in the past, the daily happenings of my life and the impressions such happenings made on me, and the thoughts that they created. The diary was written by me to myself, as most diaries are, to be read possibly by myself and my nearest relations after the war, but with no thought of publication. But when the Division was in Egypt, after the evacuation, and just prior to its embarking for France, a Supply Officer joined us whom I had met and talked to on the Peninsula, as one meets hundreds of men, without knowing, or caring to know, anything more about them than that they are trying to do their job as one tries to do one’s own. His name is Launcelot Cayley Shadwell, and we became firm friends. We talked often of Gallipoli, and one day, in France, I showed him my diary. He read it, and then told me that I should try to get it published. I laughed at the idea, but he assured me that these first-hand impressions might interest a wider circle than that for which they were primarily intended, but that beforehand the diary should be pruned and edited, for of course there was much in it which was too personal to be of interest to anybody but myself. I asked him if he would edit it for me. He consented, and very kindly undertook the necessary blue pencilling, and in addition to his labour of excision was good enough to insert a few passages describing, so far as words can, the exquisite loveliness of the Peninsula. For these, which far surpass the powers of my own pen, I am deeply indebted to him. They will be found under dates:—_May 2nd, Moonlight at Helles; May 13th, The sensations one experiences when a shell is addressed to you; May 26th, Moonlight scenes; May 30th, Colouring of Imbros; July 15th, Alexandria; September 16th and 17th, The bathing cove_. I am also indebted to the kindness of Captain Jocelyn Bray, the A.P.M. of the 29th Division on the Peninsula, for many excellent photographs. The diary next had to be submitted to the Censor, who naturally refused to pass it until the Dardanelles Commission had finished its sittings, and it was nearly a year before it came back into my hands, passed for publication, but with a few further blue pencillings, this time not personal, but official. And in this form—hastily scribbled by me from day to day, with a stumpy indelible pencil on odd sheets of paper, pruned, edited and improved by Shadwell, and extra-edited, if not notably improved, by the Censor—my diary is now presented for the consideration of an all-indulgent public.