8 p.m
The night falls quicker now, but with the same lovely colouring, and a full moon is shining.
July 28th
See my friends of the 13th Division this morning. At twelve noon high explosive shells come over our camp and kill six fine horses.
4 p.m
On duty at Main Supply depot, and ugh! beastly high explosive shells come over. One bursts in Ordnance depot and blows two men to bits. Very glad when I am off duty, but I would rather be here than in Alexandria.
My Brigade has been away at Lemnos resting, but comes back to-night. Nothing much has been done since the battle of June 29th, which I saw, except the French have straightened their line in accordance with our move.
Everything is very quiet; even the French “75’s” hardly fire a shot; but something big is afoot. Three of our companies have their horse lines dug in at the foot of the cliff in the lower road, half-way between “W” Beach and the bakery, past the Greek camp; and the cliff, which is higher than in most places, affords almost perfect protection for the animals. Officers and men live there, but it is not a very sanitary spot to live in, what with the manure and the flies and the heat. Occasionally, to make the atmosphere more savoury, a dead horse or mule is washed ashore, after having floated about for several days.
Most of the animals which die or are killed are towed out to sea and there sunk, either by the firing of bullets into the carcass or by stones fastened to their legs. Many carcasses are, however, in spite of all precautions, washed ashore, causing great unpleasantness to all near who are living dug into the cliff-side. One such decaying carcass this morning, lying on the water’s edge half submerged, aroused the ire of a Staff Officer, who immediately strafed the officer living in the cliff-side nearest to the place where it lay. He was politely told that “The Navy are responsible for everything up to high-water mark,” and of course could strafe no more. But the poor old Navy have their hands pretty full, keeping the seas open for we on shore, and it is rather hard lines on them to add to their heavy responsibilities the keeping of the shores and beaches clear of washed-up carcasses of poor old mules and horses who have died for their country.
Now and again a dead mule or horse is buried on land, but we still, after over three months’ effort, are holding such a small bit of land that room is very scarce and a burial-ground for animals is out of the question.