Indeed, most of our prisoners were only too pleased to remain with us once we'd caught them. We set them to various jobs, and, to do them justice, they worked away quite cheerfully, never, so far as I know, attempting to escape from a place where they were so well fed and got free smokes. The Australians installed one as camp barber, and the blue-jackets from the fleet used to grin at the spectacle of a big husky Turk going round his enemy's throat with a keen-edged razor. About this time most of us had grown full beards. I don't know who originated the style, but it got to be the fashion to trim our beards to a point _à la_ His Majesty. Then our slouch hats underwent the trimming process, the result being a far-fetched jockey's cap. Then nearly every chap cut his slacks or breeches off well above the knee, and a great many discarded puttees. Others shore their shirt-sleeves off shoulder high. Still others went without their shirts altogether in the daytime, going naked from the waist up. So you can guess what the Anzac Army looked like! No wonder the Turks did a bolt when our ragtime mob of toughs rushed them with the bayonet! They looked like a crowd of sundowners who had struck an out-back trail and got badly bushed in a dry season. _May 22._—Went up to "Quinn's" at 7 a.m. to go on with sticking up overhead cover. Rather rainy morning. Mud—and such mud!—everywhere. Work of art climbing hill owing to feet caking inches deep with the sticky clay soil. Just got started to work when taken off to make loopholes in a new front fire trench—enemy's trench being only about fifteen yards away. Trench badly exposed to cross-fire from machine-guns well placed on rising ground. All around were splashes of blood. Australian officer informed us that a number of his men had been shot while lying at the _bottom_ of this trench. Did what we could, but as fast as we stuck the sandbags up they were cut to pieces and blown down by Maxim fire. Bombed out many times. Had many narrow shaves. Forced to give it best and wait till dark, when we'll have another try. All these dirty jobs seem to fall to the engineers. Rain cleared off in afternoon. Mail came in to-day. Got four letters—very satisfactory. "Jack Johnsons" at work again. Snipers also busy; bagged quite a lot of our chaps to-day. _Our_ snipers are beginning to thin them down, however. Our trench mortars emptied bombs finely into enemy's trenches lately. Fairly quiet night, with rifle fire going off in bursts now and then.