October 3rd
A quiet, beautiful Sunday morning, the sea like glass. I have lunch with McDougall half-way up the high ground of the promontory, outside his dugout, right behind large boulders of stone. He provides us an excellent lunch, and we might be on holiday together. No firing of any kind. After lunch, however, shore batteries and ships get active, while the distant rumble of guns is heard from Helles. At four we have our daily ration of the 5·9 shrapnel or “Whistling Rufus.”
We move our Supply depot up to the foot of the gully at the head of which is IX Corps H.Q.