Throughout the long and anxious hours of the 25th, while the fate of his army hung uncertain, the Commander-in-Chief was compelled to remain on board the _Queen Elizabeth_ with his Headquarter Staff. There was no place for him ashore. In modern warfare a commanding General cannot allow himself to become entangled in one part of the widely-extended front or in another. When once his dispositions have been made and his orders issued, the control passes out of his hands; and the more complete his dispositions and orders have been, the less is the part he is justified in taking upon himself. He can but await the result, listening anxiously to reports as they come. The wretchedness of such a position, for a soldier born to lead forlorn hopes or to command the rush of onset, was here increased by the sea. At no point was it possible even to remain on land without losing touch with all the other points. Only at sea could communication be maintained and reports delivered. The Commander-in-Chief was reduced to a position of inactive but restless security, all the more pitiable because, from the shelter of the great battleship, telescopes revealed incidents of heroic resolution in which it was impossible to share. The day passed. In the evening the _Queen Elizabeth_ flung a violent bombardment upon the defences of V Beach, bringing renewed courage to the line of survivors still crouching under the bank. At midnight, Sir Ian was called upon to take a decision as rapid as vital. It has been already mentioned that rumours of evacuation went round Anzac cove at sunset. The men were much exhausted by prolonged fighting, extreme danger, and heavy loss; the battalions were mixed; ammunition was running short; water, though brought ashore in boats, and already found by digging in one or two places, was scarce, and had to be carried up the cliffs on men’s backs; the wounded--over 2000 in number--though energetically tended, as already mentioned, and taken off rapidly to any available ship, still lay thick on the beach, or came dribbling back from the heights; along the bit of coast, over sea and shore, the shrapnel crashed and whirled perpetually; brave as the Anzacs had proved themselves, they were new to battle. If evacuation was unavoidable, now, at night, was the only possible time. Sir Ian’s decision was unhesitating. The Turks were actually pressing upon the Anzac lines. Evacuation could not remain secret, and would take many hours. It would involve incalculable slaughter on the shore and in the boats. It meant defeat. It meant withdrawal such as Lord Kitchener had specially ordered him never to consider. It meant a breach in any high-spirited soldier’s instinct. The command was quick. Let them dig for their lives. Let them cling on like tigers. Help would come in the morning. [Sidenote: HOW ANZAC WAS HELD]