We pass a company of Senegalese manning a trench dug at the back of “V” Beach. They lie in it, peering over the top, looking inland intently, as if they expect the enemy, who is more than three miles away, to rush down on them at any moment. I pass General D’Amade at the H.Q. at the back of “V” Beach, and stop to chat with the French officer who was on the _Arcadian_ with me, and also a French Naval officer who was on the _Southland_. The Naval officer inspects my rifle with interest, saying it is the first time that he has handled one of the short patterns. He tells me that he saw the fight from the _Andania_ on Sunday morning, and says that he thinks that it will stand out as the most magnificent fight of the war. MAY _May 1st._ A few shells, but none very terrible, come over; one, however, in our depot. Beautiful weather. Heavy rifle fire heard at night. Now and again a Turkish shell lands over from Achi. The rifle fire last night was Turkish; nothing happened. Probably “wind up” on their part. Letters arrive. While sitting on a box reading, a shell comes beastly near, but bursts in a not very frightening manner twenty yards away. But I and the few near me fall flat to the ground. I have been advised to do this by an officer who is an expert in shelling, and he tells me that by so doing, though a shell may burst ten yards from you, one should be safe. My servant rolls over and over, shouting “Oh!” and I rush to him, asking him if he was hit, but find that a stone had caught him on the forehead, and but for a nasty bruise he was none the worse. This afternoon I have a bathe off “W” Beach. Crowds are bathing. What a contrast to this time last week! Only a week ago we landed, and now “W” Beach is like a seaside resort as far as the bathing is concerned. I felt in holiday mood, and with that delightful refreshed feeling that one has after a dip, I strolled along the sand up to the depot for a cup of tea. But the scream of a shell overhead from Achi, which fell in the water beyond the bathers, brought my holiday mood to an abrupt end. The mouth of the Dardanelles and the sea at the end of the Isthmus is full of warships, from battleships to small destroyers and their necessary small craft, transports, hospital ships, trawlers, and lighters. Engineers, French and English, are working feverishly at the building of piers and finishing those already begun. Stores are being unloaded, and marquees for their storage are being erected.