8 | a.m
We enter Mudros Harbour, chockfull of warships and transports, those on board leaning over the side and watching us with interest.
Eight and a half months have passed since those days in April before the landing, and the scenes are almost the same to-day. It seems eight and a half years ago.
I go ashore and meet a friend at one of the Supply depots, who makes me a guest of the mess. We have a cheery evening.