those few thought of what might have been, and of the great-hearted comrades and brothers-in-arms whom they had left behind. Many now lay in the cemetery above Lancashire Landing, a glorious resting-place from which, when alive, they had looked out upon the intense blue of the Ægean Sea, with the peaks of Imbros and Samothrace to the west, to the south and east the coast of Asia Minor and the straits, and direful Achi Baba to the north; others had been buried where they fell. Soon the lovely blossoms of the rock-rose and the gorgeous poppy would be covering their graves. Perhaps to none of the survivors would these memories be more poignant than to two of the padres, the Rev. E. T. Kerby, M.C.,[7] and the Rev. F. W. Welbon, M.C., who had been untiring and absolutely fearless in giving comfort to the dying, in performing the last rites under fire, and in sharing the dangers and privations of the men in the front line. The Divisional Artillery remained behind, and also a small detachment of Engineers and the 1st and 3rd Field Ambulances, all attached for duty to the 13th Division. The more modern guns must first be saved, and as each battery was withdrawn a battery of the old 15-pounders of the 42nd Division was substituted, so there was no cessation of fire during the day. For several nights no artillery fire was permitted between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m., in order to accustom the Turk to quiet nights with little or no firing. When the final evacuation took place three of the old guns were taken away successfully and the remainder destroyed. Some of the gunners and the greater part of the R.A.M.C. left a few days before the curtain fell on the final scene of the great tragedy of Gallipoli. The last men of the 42nd Division—and among the very last of the allied forces—to leave the peninsula were detachments of artillery and R.A.M.C. and a small party of Engineers.