We arrive at a junction at 9 a.m., and hear that an engine is off the line at the next station. Broken-down, dirty Arab village just opposite, and an oasis. Nothing else but sandy desert. Wait all day and have to wire for rations. New Zealand A.S.C. comes to our rescue with supplies. Issue same to troops on our train and also to another troop train behind us, with troops on board from Ypres. Troops amuse themselves with football in the afternoon, much to the natives’ interest. Arab boys now and again join in, causing amusement. Eight o’clock in the evening we get up a smoking concert on the side of the line. I have been to some curious smoking concerts during the war, but this one (now on) will live in my memory. Desert, moonlight, troop trains lit up, a bit of a fire, and around, Tommies fresh from Gallipoli enjoying the fun to the full. What a nation! We never had a chance at Gallipoli. Let’s forget about it. _10 p.m._ “God save the King” sung, and then off to bed! _January 15th._ Woke up at twelve midnight; ration train arrives with rations for to-morrow, in case we cannot get on. _2 a.m._ Train ordered to move. Get up and load rations on to the train. Arrive Suez 10 a.m., and go on to New Camp. For last hour I did a bit of stoking on engine. Rather unique, stoking an engine in an Egyptian desert. Arrive at a large camp, the largest that I have ever been into. Tents everywhere, laid out in perfect order. Coolies, Arabs, and Hindus unloading stores from trains, which arrive at frequent intervals on the single line running through the camp. EPILOGUE _January 20th._ Finds me in camp with a tent to myself and things working smoothly; everything, as far as humanly possible, is ready for any eventuality, and the Turk, if he tries any tricks, will get his knuckles badly rapped. The K.O.S.B.’s go by to the wild, inspiring strains of the pipes. Everything is bustle—trains shunting, stores coming up, horsemen and guns moving into position, and there is an air of expectancy over everything. And so these random notes come to an end. I am back in camp with the horrors of the Peninsula left behind me for ever. Of those who sailed from England so lightheartedly in March, few are left, but those that remain are attached to each other by invisible fetters. Those strange months—dull and exciting, tragic and humorous, spent under the eye of the enemy on an alien shore—form a common bond between us. All of us now know the full meaning of Life, and all of us have walked, not once, but many times, with Death on the grim Peninsula. We have been beaten—not so much by the enemy as by climatic and geographical conditions; but beaten we are, and nothing remains but to accept defeat like sportsmen. INDEX “A” Battery, 256 “A” Beach, 205 A.S.C., difficulties of, 107, 130, 200, 311 _Abercrombie_, H.M.S., 146, 186