The water supply was a perpetual anxiety, especially at Anzac. Water could be found in a few places by digging, especially near the shore, where, however, it soon became brackish. At Helles there were a few springs and a few old wells. At the extreme left or north of the Anzac position (near the hill known as Fort 3), Colonel Bauchop, then in command there, showed me in July an excellent spring of pure water, said to have been discovered by a “diviner,” Sapper Stephen Kelly, of Melbourne, with a hazel twig. As it was close to the sea, at the mouth of one of the largest watercourses that drain the range of Sari Bair, though dry on the surface in summer, it might have been possible to divine the presence of water beneath the surface without supernatural aid; but the source was soon fitted up with pumps and cisterns, supplying that district well. For the centre of Anzac and the outlying trenches along the heights, most of the water was brought from the Nile in lighters and pumped into iron reservoirs upon the Cove beach in front of General Headquarters. A larger one containing 30,000 gallons was also constructed on a platform up the cliff, but without great success, owing to the breakdown of the pumping-engine. The water was carefully rationed out into water-bottles or tins--so carefully that a man was fortunate to get a mugful for washing and shaving. “Having a good clean up?” said General Birdwood, in his friendly way, to an Australian thus engaged. “Yes, sir,” the man replied, “and I only wish I was a bloody canary!” [Sidenote: DAILY LIFE AT ANZAC] From notes written down by myself in the middle of that July, I take the following description: “So here the Anzacs live, practising the whole art of war. Amid dust and innumerable flies, from the mouths of little caves cut in the face of the cliffs, they look over miles of sea to the precipitous peaks of Samothrace and the grey mountains of Imbros. Up and down the steep and narrow paths, the Colonials arduously toil, like ants which bear the burdens of their race. Uniforms are seldom of the regulation type. Usually they consist of bare skin dyed to a deep reddish copper by the sun, tattooed decorations (a girl, a ship, a dragon), and a covering that can hardly be described even as ‘shorts,’ being much shorter. Every kind of store and arm has to be dragged or ‘humped’ up these ant-hills of cliff, and deposited at the proper hole or gallery. Food, water, cartridges, shells, building timber, guns, medical stores--up the tracks all must go, and down them the wounded come. “So the practice of the simple life proceeds, with greater simplicity than any Garden Suburb can boast, and the domestic virtues which constitute the whole art of war are exercised with a fortitude rarely maintained upon the domestic hearth.”