It is now the beginning of “Z” day, and we three stand on “W” Beach waiting orders to go on No. 1 Pier. As we stand in the heavy sand, my thoughts immediately go back to the night of April 25th, where in the same place as I am now standing we were labouring carrying boxes of supplies up the beach. I feel as if I have gone round in a complete circle. That is what has happened with the Gallipoli Campaign: it has indeed gone round in a complete circle. The beach is alive with troops, and animals are being feverishly embarked. About two hundred have been shot to-night, though, and some men actually cried as they performed that horrid task. Fortunately there is little shelling. One now and again bursts on the high ground of the beach. An M.L.O. comes along the pier and instructs us to file along on board. We pass up the pier, up a gangway, over one of the sunken ships, and on to a small ship moored on the further side. The five N.C.O.’s go to their quarters and I go to the wardroom, where my name and particulars of my command (strength numbering five) are taken. And then I have a whisky and soda and a cigar. Phew! the relief. “W” Beach the last few weeks!... Let’s forget about it! _2.30 a.m._ The ship is now nearly full up with troops, and an officer comes in to say we are off. I go up on deck and find that they are just weighing anchor. It is tricky work getting a ship away from improvised piers. The captain is the same Naval officer who used to command the _Whitby Abbey_, which took me to Lemnos and back in July last. To-morrow night will be his last trip to Gallipoli. At last, after a lot of manœuvring, he shouts from the bridge “All clear aft?” and a voice answers, “Aye, aye, sir,” then “Full steam ahead,” and we swing round and head out to sea. I watch the lights on shore gradually disappear. One I notice by VIII Corps H.Q., being at the top of a post, flickers out and on as regularly as the ticking of a clock. What it meant I don’t know. I have noticed it before during the past few days. Asia fires to “V” Beach, and Achi sends a couple which burst on the high ground at the back of “W” Beach. The lights and the outskirts of the shore disappear. I still see the starlights sailing in the darkness of the night. These soon disappear. For me the adventures of Gallipoli are no longer realities, but bad memories, and I turn into the wardroom to sleep. _8 a.m._ We enter Mudros Harbour, chockfull of warships and transports, those on board leaning over the side and watching us with interest. Eight and a half months have passed since those days in April before the landing, and the scenes are almost the same to-day. It seems eight and a half years ago. I go ashore and meet a friend at one of the Supply depots, who makes me a guest of the mess. We have a cheery evening. _January 9th._