Driven out of sap every time we entered it by bombs. One burst within three feet of me without doing any harm. Firing going on as usual. Managed to get a change of socks to-day. Needed them. Rumoured that the British or the Turks have presented an ultimatum, calling on one or other to surrender within twenty-four hours—no one seems to know which. Also that the French have taken a big fort at the Narrows. Air full of rumours—and projectiles. Big guns almost splitting the drum of my ear as I write. Very heavy Maxim and rifle fire this evening. Quite sick of it all; the Turks take a lot of beating. Weather beautiful; sea calm and of an azure blue colour. Rum issued to-night. Big event. Things looked brighter afterwards. _May 6._—Heavy cannonade, but lighter rifle fire. Lots of bombs. Fellows getting quite deaf. Was down at beach to-day. Navy men very busy landing stores, etc. Officers (Navy) very fine fellows, and both they and their men swear by our chaps. No side or laddy-da about the officers. One—a lieutenant—informed me that our fellows were born fighters: "But you want to give them plenty to do," he went on; "for when they're not fighting they're looking for trouble." Afterwards I overheard him describing the landing to a newcomer. "They're not soldiers," he finished up, "—— they're not men! They're just wild devils let loose from hell! The instant the boats grounded over they went, head first, came up with fixed bayonets, and rushed those machine-guns like runaway steam-engines! It was the most reckless, grandest slap-dash charge that I or any other man ever witnessed. Oh, they're beauties to scrap! And their vocabulary would raise your hair!" _May 7._—Weather still beautiful. Position just the same. Fire from all arms still going on. Enemy sapping in line with us. More of my section laid out; only a few left. Being reinforced by volunteers from our mounted crowd—drivers, etc. _May 8._—Heavy fire all night. Fancy considerable waste of ammunition. Rather quiet day. Some artillery fire from enemy trying to locate our guns, which are well hidden. Mail supposed to come in to-morrow. Hope so, as many letters are due. Posted a letter myself to-day—in a haversack hanging to a bush. Hope it goes all right. Rum to-night. Very welcome, but short ration. I wonder why?