The ration carts that were left were promptly shipped, not a mule being left—in fact, every hoof was safely embarked. Then began the last stage. In succeeding waves the remaining troops fell back in perfect order to the forming-up posts. In a steady stream they were hastened off on to the waiting ships, until at last the supreme moment arrived. The message was telephoned to the line that all troops behind those few men who were waiting a few yards from the unsuspecting Turk had left Suvla for good and all. Here and there a man fired his rifle as a farewell salute to our gallant enemy, but no man was permitted to fire without an order. With their boots wrapped in sand-bags they crept back, down the communication trenches, out on to the roads, past the first gate, which was immediately locked, the news of their passing being telephoned to the beaches. Past the second likewise, then the third, and then straight to the beaches; finally on board, and hurried off with great dispatch when the Evacuation Staff knew from their statistics that Suvla Bay was free of every Britisher but themselves. Hastily A.S.C. officers run round the frameworks of the Supply stacks in the depot with lighted torches, and quickly the supplies are ablaze. Then a rush is made to the waiting pinnaces, which merrily puff out to the battleships. Meanwhile the officers detailed to wait at the casualty clearing station are picked up by pinnaces, for no rearguard action has been necessary: the Turk was lying ignorant of it all in his trenches, crack-crack-cracking his rifle. If he had only known! At last not a living Britisher was left on Suvla or Anzac; every dugout, nook, and cranny was searched, and it was with great interest that the Evacuation Staff viewed the scene from the battleships as daylight broke. The fires burnt fiercely and quickly; Turkish shells came over as if to hasten the destruction of the fire. Complete success had been the reward of the excellent work of the Staff.