Heavy gunning all day by both sides—very heavy and continuous. From twelve to one the Turks give us a general bombardment, and we get our share in our little camp. Men’s cookhouse wrecked, but no one hurt; the cook happens to be at the depot a hundred yards down the gully drawing rations. It is evident that the Turks are now getting regular supplies of ammunition, probably direct from Germany. We are looking to Russia. If only she can come through Rumania and attack Bulgaria in the rear and cut off Turkey, Turkey is finished. We get rumours that she is through, and are rather looking towards her as a besieged city looks towards its deliverers. Snipers busy just now, on account of the exposed position of our washed-out trenches. Fresh drafts arrive for the 29th. Is it to be an evacuation for all, or is the 29th only going. If so, why do drafts arrive for the 29th? _December 6th._ A very beautiful day. Turks busy shelling us. We reply energetically. One continued roar of guns all day. Our beaches shelled midday and late afternoon. But very few casualties, the mounds of earth affording excellent cover, and all shells are high explosive, no shrapnel. Trenches are still in muddy state in low land. At night we shell their positions. _December 7th._ A very beautiful, cool day, but it is getting colder. Turks start shelling us early. Their shells are much improved and are evidently new. Horne and I start off to Brigade H.Q. after lunch, walking up our gully. We pass a boxing match in full swing. I do not think that the men know anything of the evacuation. I hear unofficially that it has been postponed indefinitely. Perhaps it is off altogether. We appear to be getting through the winter so well, that perhaps it might be as well to stick these storms and not give up this job of forcing the Dardanelles, which if successful would mean so much to the cause of the Allies. As we near the top of the gully, we hear the boom of a gun, coming from the direction in which we are walking. It is the first time that a shell for the beach has come from this direction. By its sound I know instinctively that the beastly thing is coming down very near us. I shout to Horne, “Drop flat!” and both of us fall beside a prickly gorse-bush as the thing bursts with a deafening explosion on the high ground on our right. We get to our feet and look back at the boxing match, and cannot help being amused at the way the Tommies have quickly cleared or lain down, with the instinct of “veterans of the beaches.” The combatants in the ring, who have paused, resume their match. The crowd again collects, continually being added to by a stream of men coming over the skyline from the next gully. This should draw Turkey’s fire; and sure enough it does, for as we reach the hill at the top of the gully we hear another coming. We duck behind a boulder as it passes over our heads and bursts twenty yards our side of the boxing ring. This clears the crowd and ends the match for the day.