2 p.m
Rumour hath it that we have taken the first two lines of trenches. The armoured cars return to their dugout garage, one with one man wounded inside.
4.30 p.m
Prisoners come marching down the beach under escort. Big, hardy chaps, in ill-fitting khaki clothes, and many with cloth helmets on their heads, looking rather like the paper hats I used to make when a kid.