Then the time came when we were getting an extra supply of jam, and there were only two kinds of jam issued--plum and an apple and apricot combination. Of course, that set us all grumbling, soldier-like, because we didn’t get strawberry. One day one of the men hit upon the idea of exchanging this jam with wine with which the French soldiers over Suvla Bay way were liberally supplied. This exchange went on for about a fortnight, and there were happy times in the trenches. Then the French got fed up with this sameness of jam and our stocks dropped below zero. So we had to look out for another customer. One of our boys hit upon the idea of exchanging the jam with the Turks. During the day we put up our articles of exchange--jam and bully beef on bayonets and held them up in prominent positions on the front line trenches. And we waited anxiously as to what was going to happen, and lo! at night we heard and saw the Turks crawling through the brushwood and scrub, growling and muttering to themselves as their whiskers were caught on the twigs of the bushes. When they reached the front-line trenches they took off the articles of exchange and put in their place wines, cigarettes and Turkish “delight,” as we always called the tobacco. That showed us that they didn’t want war and we knew we didn’t want war, but the Germans wanted it and as long as they wanted it we had to keep going. Likewise we had other experiences that were not all grim, but they were exciting. For instance, our bathing parties on the beach. We didn’t have to bother with bathing suits or summer-resort regulations, but we had the novelty of bathing to the accompaniment of shell fire. When we saw shells diving we dived to get out of the way. Gallipoli at this period of the year was a frying pan. Men found their uniforms intolerable. We cut our trousers into “knickers,” abandoned our tunics, and did all our fighting in bare knees and shirt sleeves. Our enemies got a wrong impression from this. Turkish prisoners told us that the report among them was we were falling so short of supplies that we were cutting our trousers in two to make double the number of pairs. The idea of our poverty of supplies was further strengthened by the fact that many of our men abandoned shirts entirely and moved about like savages with bronzed bodies naked of all covering save the knickers and their socks and boots. Our aspect and the fact that our men went after them practically always with a bayonet, won for us from the Turk the respectful sobriquet of the “White Ghurkas,” the Ghurkas being famous for their fondness and expertness in the use of the knife.