_May 25th._ Woke up in our new “bivvy” this morning. It is very nice up here now, overlooking Imbros. From my bed I see the _Swiftsure_ fire a shot into the water. I get up at once, and looking through my glasses, see her fire another, this time between the _Agamemnon_, which is moored close by, and herself. Torpedo destroyer comes dashing up, and immediately makes big circles round the two ships. A tiny little pinnace slips out with only four sailors on it, and rushes round and round the _Swiftsure_ like a little pup defending its mother. A bugle sounds several times, and men in white swarm out from all kinds of places and stand to stations on the decks. A submarine has been sighted right among our shipping; it had darted like an evil fish between the _Swiftsure_ and the _Agamemnon_, and the _Swiftsure_ had kept it off. At one o’clock news arrives that H.M.S. _Triumph_ has been torpedoed off the Australian landing at Gabe Tepe, and it is a terrible shock to us all, coming as it has so soon after the sinking of the _Goliath_. A good many lives were saved—nearly all the crew. No doubt it was hit by the same submarine that attempted to finish off the _Swiftsure_ and _Agamemnon_ this morning. We are all naturally anxious at further developments. A Turkish battery is shelling the aerodrome on the east side of “W” Beach. Some very good practice is made and one machine is damaged. This afternoon the same thing starts, and one shell pitches into the sea. If they move their gun five degrees right, they have the range of our “bivvy” nicely. _May 26th._ It is another perfect day, and it is absolutely ideal at our “bivvy” on the cliffs overlooking the south-west tip of the Peninsula. The sea is perfect, yet while admiring the view we hear the old familiar whistle of a shell, and one comes right over us, “plonk” into the sea. Another soon follows, and we have to go beneath the cliffs, and our aspect of the peaceful view is immediately changed. Shelling lasts half an hour, and after lunch we can come back. Go up to Brigade H.Q. this morning, and find that South Lancashire Division have been merged with the 29th Division. Laird, quite fit and chirpy as usual, in a topping little dugout near by. Reinforcements arrive to-day, and I show them the way up. One chap asks if there is a chance of his getting into the firing-line. I answer that he will be in the firing-line in half an hour, and, poor chap! he looks queerly at me. He will get used to it, though, in a day. He asked the question as if to show that he was longing, after months of training and waiting, to get there, but had rather a shock when he found it was so near.