Some of these shells were proper “duds,” and they made us laugh. It was not necessary to be told that they were made in Germany, for they dropped harmlessly into the ground, without exploding; but of course there were lots that did burst and do mischief. Many of these dropped on to the beach down below, killing mules and causing losses amongst transport drivers and the men of the Army Service Corps. Owing to the luck of war we had not many casualties in our own battery, and the losses were nothing like what you would have expected from such a lot of firing from the Turkish guns. But we had some sad losses, all the same. Our major was amongst the few who were killed that afternoon. He was in an observation-trench ahead, and was struck by a piece of shell which burst just near him. The news soon spread that he had been mortally wounded. He was most popular with the men, and as soon as they heard what had happened both officers and men rushed out to his post, to do what they could for him. But you can’t do much for a dying man. The major did not last long. His last words were, “Good luck, boys. Tell my wife I died happy.” There wasn’t a dry eye amongst the men who laid him to his last rest. They say that misfortunes never come alone, and it was all too true of us that day, for in the evening the colonel and the adjutant were done to death through German treachery. We heard, but not till later, that a German came along a piece of enemy trench, close to the observation-post where the two officers were. The German shouted, in quite good English, “All officers this way!” The colonel and the adjutant, who did not suspect anything, got out on to the parapet of the trench, and instantly a hand grenade was thrown from an enemy trench quite close at hand. It exploded and killed both of them. That’s the sort of dirty trick which the Germans know so well how to play. They have a born gift for it--and that reminds me that the Germans who were with the Turkish forces were just as dirty and brutal in their methods as they are, by all accounts, on the Western front. Looking through a pair of field-glasses, I have seen German officers during an attack by the Turks follow them with revolvers in hand--your German officer doesn’t lead, he drives, having a precious regard for his carcase, and no earthly sense of honour--and I have seen them shoot Turkish soldiers who have fallen because they have been shot in the leg or have stooped to pick up a rifle which had been dropped. The German would be about a hundred yards in the rear, and would run up and deliberately shoot the prostrate man. I am talking now not from hearsay, but of what I have seen with my own eyes, and it does not help you to love the Germans.