April 28th
I awake feeling very fit and refreshed, and find a beautiful morning awaiting me. Opposite our tent is a little “bivvy,” made of oil-sheets and supported by rope to one of the walls of the house and a lilac-tree. A head pokes out from under this “bivvy” with a not very tidy beard growing on its chin, and the owner loudly calls for his servant. While making his toilet he joins in a merry banter with Owen, who is indulging in a cold douche obtained from a bucket of water. Some of the French having invaded the sanctuary of our walled-in camp, picking several of the iris growing in the wild grass, the officer with the beard asks me to tell them to get off his lawn, which I do. I find later that he is Josiah Wedgwood, M.P., and being interested, get into conversation with him. He is a most entertaining man, and tells me that he is O.C. Armoured Cars, but that as it is not possible for his cars to come on shore, he had been instructed to use his intelligence and make himself useful, which he was trying to do with a painful effort.
Finding that I was a Supply Officer, he begs for some tobacco, saying that he would be my friend for life if I could get him some, which I manage to do, for yesterday I issued tobacco and cigarettes with our rations and had some over. I go down to my depot for a wash, shave, and breakfast. Biscuit and bacon do not go well together. While washing, shells begin to arrive, bursting on the crest of the hill at the back of the beach. One or two come near to the beach and a splinter flies towards us, hitting the boxes behind which we all crowd. The nearest, so far, so I preserve the splinter. French troops are now in large numbers on the beach, and I meet my friend the Russian officer who was on the Arcadian. I see General D’Amade and his Staff. A French officer takes some snaps for me with my camera, as he knows more about photography than I do, including one of a French machine gun company, who had then two guns in position screened by branches of lilac at the entrance to the village. He made fun of them, telling them that it would have been just as much sense if they had placed a rusty sewing machine, which happened to be lying near, in position instead. Looking rather foolish, the gunners pack up and go off somewhere. I am wanted on the telephone, and hear O’Hara talking at the other end. He says I am to hand over the remaining supplies to the R.N.D. beach party, and come back to “W” Beach with the S.S.O., who is coming over. S.S.O. arrives shortly after. I hand over to the senior officer of the R.N.D.—a fine old boy with a crown and a star up—who tells me he landed at “W” Beach on Sunday morning at six, and had joined in the scrapping himself.
We go on the River Clyde, and from there I take photographs of the beach and one of the mounds of earth that had proved shelter for those men whom I had seen from the Dongola crouching for cover on Sunday morning. We get on to a trawler from the River Clyde, which takes us round to “W” Beach, and I enjoy the brief sea-trip, and it is very interesting viewing the scenes on shore from the sea.
Off “W” Beach we get on to a pinnace which takes us alongside a very good pier, considering the short time the engineers have had to construct one. On shore I find the K.O.S.B.’s arriving from “Y” Beach, where they have had a rough handling. “Y” Beach appears to have been evacuated. I find a lot of officers I know have gone, including Koe, the Colonel, a very fine type of man. He really should never have come out, for he was in indifferent health. He was shot in the arm, which had to be amputated, and he died shortly afterwards. Our depot has grown, for more supplies have come ashore. Our Colonel and a few more of the train officers have arrived. We have quite a good lunch.
I find Phillips, our O.C. Company, has gone inland with some pack mules. He comes back later with rather depressing news. I hear that a battle has been started, but I do not pay much attention, for I am quite accustomed now to the sound of rifle fire and the roar of the ships’ guns. The battle develops in the afternoon to a general attack on our part. We are well inshore now, I should say two and a half miles. Anyway, no bullets are flying about the beach now. All snipers have been rounded up, one of the worst offenders, a huge fellow, falling dead from a tree yesterday.