One night in May the Turks made a fierce attack on us, apparently determined to carry out their oft-repeated threat of driving us into the sea.  The shells just rained down over our gully, lighting up the dug-outs with each explosion.  It was like Hell let loose.  Word came up from the beach station that they were full of casualties and on getting down there one found that the situation had not been over-estimated.  The whole beach was filled with stretchers, the only light being that from bursting shells.  We worked hard all night operating and dressing, and when one had time to think, one’s thoughts generally took the shape of wondering how the men were keeping the Turks off.  It was useless to be sentimental, although many of my friends were amongst those injured; the work just had to be done in the best way possible.

One night a strong wind got up, just like our “Southerly Busters,” and in the middle of it all firing began on our left.  I heard that the Turks nearly got into the trenches, but they were beaten off and rolled right round the position—­passed on, as it were, from battalion to battalion.

It was very interesting to watch the warships bombarding Turkish positions.  One ship, attacking Achi Baba, used to fire her broadside, and on the skyline six clouds would appear at regular intervals, for all the world like windmills.  On another occasion I watched two ships bombarding the same hill a whole afternoon.  One would think there was not a square yard left untouched, and each shot seemed to lift half the hill.  Twenty minutes after they had ceased firing, a battery of guns came out from somewhere and fired in their turn.  They must have been in a tunnel to have escaped that inferno.  One day we were up on “Pluggey’s” while our beach was being shelled; at last the stack of ammunition caught fire and was blazing fiercely until some of the men got buckets and quenched the fire with sea water most courageously.  Later a shell landed among a lot of dug-outs.  There was quietness for a bit; then one man began scraping at the disturbed earth, then another; finally about six of them were shovelling earth away; at last a man appeared with his birthday suit for his only attire.  He ran like a hare for the next gully, amid the yells of laughter of all who witnessed the occurrence.  I think he had been swimming, and being disturbed by “Beachy,” had run for a dug-out only to be buried by the shell.

That was the extraordinary thing about our soldiers.  Shelling might be severe and searching, but only if a man was hit was it taken seriously.  In that case a yell went up for stretcher-bearers; if it was a narrow squeak, then he was only laughed at.

That beach at times was the most unhealthy place in the Peninsula.  Men frequently said they would sooner go back to the trenches.  One day we had five killed and twenty-five wounded.  Yet, had Johnny Turk been aware of it, he could have made the place quite untenable.  I saw one shell get seven men who were standing in a group.  The effect was remarkable.  All screwed themselves up before falling.  They were all lightly wounded.