11th July, 1915. Worked in my office from early morning till 12.45. The whole scheme for to-morrow's attack is cut and dried, according to our cloth: time tables fixed and every round counted.

Freddy Stopford and his Staff turned up from Mudros. Stopford in very good form. The first thing he did was to deliver himself of a personal message from Lord K. He (Stopford) wrote it down, in the ante-room, the moment he left the presence and I may take it as being as good as verbatim. Here it is:—

Well said! K. has made Stopford bring me in his pocket the very text for what I wanted to say to him. Only my grumbling thoughts find expression by my pen but I have plenty of others and my heart has its warm corner for K. whenever he cares to come in.

As I told Stopford, K. has not only anticipated my advice but has dived right down into this muddle of twentieth century war and finds lying at the bottom of it only the old original idea of war in the year 1. At our first landing the way was open to us for just so long as the surprise to the Turks lasted. That period here, at the Dardanelles, might be taken as being perhaps twice as long as it would be on the Western front which gave us a great pull. The reason was that land communications were bad and our troops on the sea could move thrice as fast as the Turks on their one or two bad roads. Yet, even so, there was no margin for dawdling. Hunter-Weston and d'Amade had tried their best to use their brief surprise breathing space in seizing the Key to the opening of the Narrows—Achi Baba, and had failed through lack of small craft, lack of water, lack of means of bringing up supplies, lack of our 10 per cent. reserves to fill casualties. At that crucial moment when we had beaten the local enemy troops and the enemy reinforcements had not yet come up, we could not get the men or the stuff quick enough to shore. Still, we had gained three or four miles and there were spots on the Peninsula where, to-day, three or four miles would be enough. Also, supposing he had to run a landing, his (Stopford's) action would take place under much easier conditions than Hunter-Weston's on April 25th.

First and foremost, in our "beetles" or barges, conveying 500 men under their own engines, we had an instrument which reduced the physical effort three quarters. This meant half the battle. When we made our original landing at Anzac we could only put 1,500 men ashore, per trip, at a speed of 2½ miles per hour, in open cutters. Were a Commander to repeat that landing now, he would be able to run 5,000 men ashore, per trip, at a speed of five miles per hour with no trouble about oars, tows, etc., and with protection against shrapnel and rifle bullets. As to the actual landing on the beach, that could be done—we had proved it—in less than one quarter of the time. Each beetle had a "brow" fixed on to her bows; a thing to be let down like a drawbridge over which the men could pour ashore by fours; the same with mules, guns, supplies, they could all be rushed on land as fast as they could be handled on the beaches. Secondly, we had already been for some time at work to fix up the wherewithal to meet our chronic nightmare, the water trouble. Thirdly, the system of bringing up food and ammunition from the beaches to the firing line had now been practically worked out into a science at Helles and Anzac where Stopford would be given a chance of studying it at first hand.

As to place, date, command, and distribution of forces, these were still being considered; still undetermined; and I could say no more at present. Braithwaite was away at Helles but, if he would go over to the General Staff, he would find Aspinall, my G.S. (1), and the Q. Staff who would give him the hang of our methods and post him in matters which would be applicable to any date or place.

There was more in this message as taken down by Stopford. After going into some details of trench warfare, K.'s message went on:—

"It is not the wish of the Cabinet that Sir Ian Hamilton should make partial attacks. They (the Cabinet) consider it preferable that he should await the arrival of his reinforcements to make one great effort, which, if successful, will give them the ridge commanding the Narrows. It is not intended, however, that Sir Ian should do nothing in the meantime and if he gets a really good opportunity he is to seize it."

There is something in this reminds me of Kuropatkin's orders to Stakelberg, yet I am glad to find that our spontaneously generated scheme jumps with the views of the Cabinet, for, there is only one "ridge commanding the Narrows" (Kilid Bahr is a plateau), and it is that ridge we mean to try for by "one great effort."

In my reply I shall merely acknowledge. Sari Bair is my secret; my Open Sesame to the cave where the forty thieves of the Committee of Union and Progress have their Headquarters. It makes me uneasy to think the Cabinet are talking about Sari Bair.

A battle is a swirl of "ifs" and "ands." The Commander who enters upon it possessed by some just and clear principle is like a sailing ship entering a typhoon on the right tack. After that he lives from hand to mouth. How far will wise saws cut ice? How much nearer do you get to shooting a snipe by being told how not to take your aim? Well thought out plans and preparations deserve to win; order and punctuality on the part of subordinates tend to make the reality correspond to the General Staff conception; surprise, if the Commander can bring it off, is worth all K. can say of it; the energy and rapidity of the chosen troops will exploit that surprise for its full value—bar, always, Luck—the Joker; and Wish to Fight and Will to Win are the surest victory getters in the pack. The more these factors are examined, the more sure it is that everything must in the last resort depend upon the executive Commander; and here, of course, I am referring to an enterprise, not to a huge, mechanically organized dead-lock like the western front.

Stopford was away in G.H.Q. Staff tents all afternoon; afterwards both he and Adderley, his A.D.C., dined. Stopford likes Reed who is, indeed, a very pleasant fellow to work with. Still, I stick to what I wrote Wolfe Murray:—the combination of Stopford and Reed is not good; not for this sort of job.

12th July, 1915. Imbros. Had meant to start for Helles an hour before daylight to witness the opening of the attack by the French Corps and the Lowland Division. But am too bad with the universal complaint to venture many yards from camp.

Stopford and Staff breakfasted. He has fallen in love with our ideas. After lunch he and his party left for Mudros. Am forcing myself to write so as to ease the strain of waiting: the battle is going on: backwards and forwards—backwards and forwards—I travel between my tent; the signal station, and the G.S. map tent.

A delightful message from K., thanking me for my letters: patting me on the back; telling me that Altham is coming out to run the communications, and Ellison to serve on my Staff.

Thank heavens we are at last to have a business man at the head of our business! As to Ellison, K.'s conscience has for long been smiting him for not having let me take my own C.G.S. with me in the first instance. But Braithwaite has won his spurs now in many a hair-raising crisis, so K. may let his mind rest at ease.

Freddie Maitland and I dined with the Vice-Admiral who kept a signaller on special watch for my messages from the shore—but nothing came in. He, the Admiral, wants to take all the 600 stokers serving in the Royal Naval Division back to the ships. This will be the last straw to the Division. We had the treat of being taken off the Triad in the Admiral's racing motor boat and when we got ashore found good news which I have just cabled home:—

"In the southern section we attacked at daylight to-day with our right and right centre. After heavy fighting lasting all day the troops engaged, namely, the French Corps and the LIInd Lowland Division, have succeeded in carrying the two strongly held and fortified lines of Turkish trenches opposite to them. The ground covered by the advance varies in depth from 200 to 400 yards, and if we can maintain our gains against to-night's counter-attacks the effect of the action will be not only to advance but greatly to strengthen our line. Full details to-morrow."

13th July, 1915. Imbros. Still feeling very slack. Nothing clear from Helles. My cable best explains:—

"Troops have been continuously engaged since my last cable, but situation is still too confused to admit of definition, especially as telephone wires all cut by shell or rifle fire.

"So far as can be gathered the sum total of the engagements taking place in a labyrinth of trenches is satisfactory up to the hour of cabling and we have taken some 200 prisoners. I hope I shall be able to send definite news to-morrow morning."

Oh, energy, to what distant clime have you flown? I used to be energetic; not perhaps according to Evelyn Wood's standards—but still—energetic! Yet, see me to-day, when a poor cousin to the cholera—this cursed enteritis—lays me by the heels; fills me with desperate longing to lie down and do nothing but rest. More than half my Staff and troops are in the same state of indescribable slackness and this, I think, must be the reason the Greeks were ten long years taking Troy.

Some newspaper correspondents have arrived. I have told them they may do whatever they d—d well please. Ashmead-Bartlett is vexed at his monopoly being spoiled. Charlie Burn, who came with the King's bag, lunched. The Vice-Admiral, Roger Keyes, and Flag-Lieutenant Bowlby dined; very good of them to leave their own perfectly appointed table for our rough and ready fare. The A.D.C.s between them managed to get some partridges, opulent birds which lent quite a Ritzian tone to our banquet.

As was expected, the Turks counter-attacked heavily last night but were unable to drive us out except in one small section on our right. To-day, fighting is still going on and the Naval Division are in it now. We have made a good gain and taken over 400 prisoners and a machine gun. We are still on the rack, though, as there are a lot of Turks not yet cleared out from holes and corners of our new holding, and ammunition is running very short. If our ammunition does not run out altogether and we can hold what we have, our total gain will be 500 yards depth.

Since June 4th, when we had to whang off the whole of our priceless 600 rounds of H.E., we have had none for 18-prs. on the Peninsula—not one solitary demnition round; nor do we seem in the least likely to get one solitary demnition round. Hunter-Weston and his C.R.A. explain forcibly, not to say explosively, that on the 28th June the right attack would have scored a success equally brilliant to that achieved by the 29th Division on our left, had we been able to allot as many shell to the Turkish trenches assaulted by the 156th Brigade—Lowland Division—as we did to the sector by the sea. But we could not, because, once we had given a fair quota to the left, there was not enough stuff in our lockers for the right. Such is war! No use splitting the difference and trying to win everywhere like high brows halting between Flanders and Gallipoli. But I am sick at heart, I must say, to think my brother Scots should have had to catch hold of the hot end of the poker. Also to think that, with another couple of hundred rounds, we should have got and held H. 12. H. 12 which dominates—so prisoners say—the wells whence the enemy draws water for the whole of his right wing.

To-day the old trouble is a-foot once again. Hunter-Weston tells us the Turkish counter-attacks are being pressed with utmost fury and are beginning to look ugly, as we can give our infantry no support from our guns although the enemy offer excellent artillery targets. When K. is extra accommodating it is doubly hard to be importunate, but it's got to be done:—

General Sir Ian Hamilton to Earl Kitchener.

"With reference to my telegrams No. M.F. 328 of 13th June and No. M.F. 381 of 28th June. Each successive fight shows more clearly than the last how much may hang on an ample supply of ammunition, more especially high explosive howitzer ammunition. In my telegram No. M.F. 381 I said that I hoped we might be able to achieve success with the ammunition already promised, and I adhere to that opinion; but every additional 100 rounds means some reduction of risks and greater assurance of success. I raise this question again because I gather from what I hear that matters in the other theatre of operations may possibly be at a standstill without much prospect of any vital alteration before the autumn fairly sets in. If this should be the case it is for you to consider whether a larger and more regular supply of ammunition should be sent to me in order to give this force the utmost chance of gaining an early success. Judging from the increased effect of the bombardments before the last two attacks on facilitating the Infantry advance I am led to hope that this success would not be long delayed under the cumulative effect of unremitting bombardment. If, therefore, any change in the general situation should make it possible to allow me temporary preferential claim to all the ammunition I should like, I would ask for the following amounts to be here by 1st August, in addition to those accompanying the troops and already promised, namely, 4.5-inch howitzer, 3,000 rounds; 5-inch howitzer, 7,000 rounds; 6-inch howitzer, 5,000, and 9.3-inch howitzer, 500 rounds, all high explosive. I should also ask for a monthly supply on the following scale, first consignment to arrive before 15th August:—

"The howitzer ammunition to be all high explosive, the 60-pr. to be one-third shrapnel and two-thirds high explosive, and the 18-pr. to be half of each.

"The above monthly scale includes ammunition for the following additional ordnance which I should like to get, namely, two batteries of 4.5-inch howitzers for each of the Xth and XIth Divisions (since 5-inch howitzers are found to be too inaccurate to bombard the enemy trenches even in close proximity to our own), one battery of 6-inch howitzers and four 9.2-inch howitzers.

"On the assumption already made it might be possible for you to arrange to forward to Ordnance Stores, Marseilles, the ammunition asked for to be here by 1st August. Time would thus be gained to accumulate the supply required, and I could arrange with the Vice-Admiral to send a fast steamer of 1,000 tons hold capacity to bring the consignment of high explosives from Marseilles. To get the steamer coaled, to arrive at Marseilles, coal again and be ready to receive the ammunition, would take seven days.

"Please understand that this suggestion is only prompted for the following reasons: (1) My growing belief that ample artillery might, within a limited period, lead to quite a considerable success in this theatre, and (2) because the reports which reach me seem to indicate that an offensive is not likely to be undertaken elsewhere at present (and I have mainly asked for offensive ammunition).

"The monthly supply above detailed I should not expect would be required for more than two months."

If our Government really—whole-heartedly—will that there should be a complete success in the East, they must, equally, with whole hearts and braced-up will, resist (for a while) the idea of any offensive in the West. In saying this I speak of the A.B.C. of war. The main theatre is where the amphibious power wishes to make it so. This cable of mine sent to a man like Lord K. is a very strong order. But now is the time to speak up and let him realize that he must let the fields of France lie fallow for the summer if he wishes to plough the Black Sea waves in autumn.

14th July, 1915. Imbros. Wrote letters in the morning, and in the evening went for a ride to the Salt Lake and there inspected the new aeroplane camp on the far side of the water.

Last night more counter-attacks, all driven off. The French right is now actually on the mouth of the Kereves Dere where it runs into the sea. We have made about 500 prisoners and have captured a machine gun. Hunter-Weston had to transfer the command of the 52nd Division, temporarily, to Shaw, the new Commander of the 13th Division.

Baikie is crying out to us for shells as if we were bottling them up! There are none.

15th July, 1915. Imbros. The answer has come in from the War Office:—the answer, I mean, to mine of the day before yesterday in which it is suggested that if our rich brethren were off their feed for the moment, some crumbs of high explosive might be spared:—

"We have great difficulty in sending you the amounts of ammunition mentioned in our No. 5770, cipher, and even now the proportion of 18-pr. high explosive will be less than stated therein. In response, however, to your No. M.F. 444, we are adding 1,000 rounds 4.5-inch, 500—5-inch, 500—6-inch and 75—9.2-inch. It will be quite impossible to continue to send you ammunition at this rate, as we have reduced the supply to France in order to send what we have to you, and the amounts asked for in the second part of your telegram could not be spared without stopping all operations in France. This, of course, is out of the question."

"This, of course, is out of the question." "Stopping all operations in France" is the very kernel of the question. If half the things we hear about the Bosche forces and our own are half true, we have no prospect of dealing any decisive blow in the West till next spring. And an indecisive blow is worse than no blow. But we can hold on there till all's blue. Now H.E. is offensive and shrapnel is defensive. I ought to attack at once; French mustn't. Therefore, we should be given, now, dollops of H.E.

This talk does not come through my hat. Some of the best brains on the Western field are in touch with those of some of my following here. The winning post stares us in the face; my old Chief gallops off the course; how can I resist calling out? And then I get this "of course" cable (not written by K. I feel sure) which shows, if it shows anything, that "of course" we ought never to have come here at all! Simple, is it not? In war all is simple—that's why it's so complex. Never mind; my cable has not been wasted. We reckon the 1,100 extra rounds it has produced may save us 100 British casualties.

Rode over to "K" Beach and inspected the 25th Casualty Clearing Station, Commandant Lieutenant-Colonel Mackenzie. Walked through the different hospital wards talking to some twenty officers and two hundred men; mostly medical cases. Did not think things at all up to the mark. Made special note of the lack of mosquito nets, beds, pyjamas and other comforts. For weeks past Jean has been toiling to get mosquito nets bought and made up, which was simple, and to get them out to us, which seems impossible. Too bad when so much money is being spent to see men lying on the ground in their thick cord breeches in this sweltering heat, a prey to flies and mosquitoes.

Discussing the landing of the New Divisions in Suvla Bay and the diversion to be made by Legge on the right by storming Lone Pine, Birdwood makes it clear in a letter just to hand, that he has told his two Divisional Generals everything. I had not yet gone into some of these details with Hunter-Weston, Stopford or Bailloud, all Corps Commanders, for I am afraid of the news filtering down to the juniors and from them, in the mysterious way news does pass, to the rank and file of both services. Thence to the Turks is but a step. Were the Turks to get wind of our plan, there would be nothing for it but to change the whole thing, even now, at the eleventh hour.

Lieutenant-Colonel F. G. Fuller, my late G.S.O. (1) in the Central Force, came over to lunch. He is now G.S.O. (2) of the 9th Corps.

At 5.30 p.m. rode over to "K" Beach for the second time and inspected the Indian Brigade under Brigadier-General Cox. They had to be pulled out some time ago and given a rest. On parade were the 5th, 6th and 10th Gurkha Battalions with the 14th Sikhs. Walked down both lines and chatted with the British and Indian Officers. The men looked cheerful and much recovered. In the evening Charlie Burn, King's Messenger, and Captain Glyn came to dinner. Glyn has been sent out as a sort of emissary, but whether by K. or by the Intelligence or by the Admiralty neither Braithwaite nor I are quite able to understand.

Cabled the War Office insisting that the lack of ammunition is "disturbing." Also, that "half my anxieties would vanish" if only the Master-General of Ordnance would see to it himself that the fortnightly allowance could be despatched regularly. I could hardly put it stronger.

Midnight.—Just back from G.S. tent with the latest. So far, so good. Bailloud and Hunter-Weston have carried two lines of Turkish trenches, an advance of two to four hundred yards. But the ammunition question has reached a crisis, and has become dangerous—very dangerous. On the whole Southern theatre of operations, counting shell in limbers and shell loaded in guns, we have 5,000 rounds of shrapnel. No high explosive—and fighting is still going on!

Hi jaculis illi certant defendere saxis.

To whomsoever of my ancestors bequeathed me my power of detachment deep salaams! How many much better men than myself would not close their eyes to-night with a battle on the balance and 5,000 rounds wherewith to fight it? But I shall sleep—D.V.; I can't create shell by taking thought any more than Gouraud could retake the Haricot by not drinking his coffee.

16th July, 1915. Imbros. Forcing myself to work though I feel unspeakably slack; wrangling with the War Office about doctors, nurses, orderlies and ships for our August battles. A few days ago I sent the following cable and they want to cut us down:—

"It seems likely that during the first week of August we may have 80,000 rifles in the firing line striving for a decisive result, and therefore certain that we shall then need more medical assistance. Quite impossible to foresee casualties, but suppose, for example, we suffered a loss of 20,000 men; though the figure seems alarming when put down in cold blood, it is not an extravagant proportion when calculated on basis of Dardanelles fighting up to date. If this figure is translated into terms of requirements such a battle would involve conversion of, say, 30 transports into temporary hospital ships, and necessitate something like 200 extra medical officers, with Royal Army Medical Corps rank and file and nurses in proportion. If my prognosis is concurred in, these should reach Mudros on or about 1st August. Some would D.V., prove superfluous, and could be sent back at once, and in any case they could return as soon as possible after operations, say, 1st September. Medical and surgical equipment, drugs, mattresses in due proportion. In a separate message I will deal with the deficiencies in ordinary establishment, but I think it best to keep this cable as to specified and exceptional demands distinct."

17th July, 1915. Imbros. After lunch felt so sick of scribble, scribble, scribble whilst adventure sat seductive upon my doorstep that I fluttered forth. At 2 o'clock boarded H.M.S. Savage (Lieutenant-Commander Homer) and, with Aspinall and Freddie, steered for Gully Beach. We didn't cast anchor but got into a cockleshell of a small dinghy and rowed ashore under the cliffs, where we were met by de Lisle. Along the beach men were either bathing or basking mother-naked on the hot sand—enjoying themselves thoroughly. I walked on the edge of the sea, as far as the point which hides the gully's mouth from the Turkish gunners, and was specially struck by the physique and class of the 6th East Lancashires under Colonel Cole Hamilton. Then mounted and rode to the Headquarters of General Shaw, commanding the 13th (new) Division. Shaw was feeling his wounds; he had already been once round his lines; so I would not let him come again. But Colonel Gillivan, G.S.O.1, Major Hillyard, G.S.O.2, Captain Jackson, G.S.O.3, Colonel Burton, A.A. and Q.M.G., joined us. First we went to the Headquarters of the 39th Brigade commanded by Brigadier-General Cayley (the Brigade Major is Captain Simpson). Then I went and looked at the trenches J.11-12-13, where I met Colonel Palmer of the 9th Warwicks, Colonel Jordan, D.S.O., of the 7th Gloucesters, Colonel Nunn of the 9th Worcesters, Colonel Andrews of the 7th North Staffordshires. We tramped through miles of trenches. The men were very fit and cheery. It was the day when they were relieving one another by companies from the reserve and there was a big crowd in the Ravine. De Lisle told me that one week had made the most astonishing difference to the savvy of these first arrivals of the New Army. At first there was confusion, loss of energy and time; by the end of the week they had picked up the wrinkles of the veterans. There was a good lot of shelling from the Turks but, humanly speaking, we were all quite snug and safe in the big gully or moving down the deep communication trenches. No one, not even the new 13th Division, paid the smallest deference to the projectiles.

Now began one of these semi-comic, semi-serious adventures which seem to dog my footsteps. Just as I got into the little dinghy, two bluejackets pulling and a Petty Officer steering, the Turks began to shell H.M.S. Savage as she lay about a hundred yards out. She did not like it, and, instead of waiting to let us get aboard, Commander Homer thought it wiser to sheer off about half a mile. When she quitted the Turks turned their guns on to our cockleshell, and although none of the shot came near us they still came quite near enough to interest the whole gallery of some thousands of bathing Tommies who, themselves safe in the dead ground under the cliff, were hugely amused to see their C.-in-C. having a hot time of it. After ten minutes hard rowing we got close to the destroyer and she, making a big circle at fairly high speed, came along fast as if she was going to run us down, with the idea of baffling the aim of the enemy. Not a bad notion as far as the destroyer was concerned but one demanding acrobatic qualities of a very high order on the part of the Commander-in-Chief. Anyway just as she was drawing abreast and I was standing up to make my spring a shell hit her plump and burst in one of her coal bunkers, sending up a big cloud of mixed smoke and black coal dust. The Commander was beside himself. He waved us off furiously; cracked on full steam and again left us in the lurch. We laughed till the tears ran down our cheeks. Soon, we had reason to be more serious, not to say pensive. The Savage showed a pair of clean heels this time and ran right away to Helles. So there we were, marooned, half a mile out to sea, in a tiny dinghy on which the Turks again switched their blarsted guns. The two bluejackets pulled themselves purple. They were both of them fat reservists and the mingling of anxiety and exertion, emotion and motion, made the sweat pour in torrents down their cheeks. Each time a shell plunked into the water we brightened up; then, gradually, until the next one splashed, our faces grew longer and longer. At last we got so far away that the Turks gave us up in disgust. How much I should like to see that battery commander's diary. Altogether, by the time we had boarded the Savage, we had been in that cursed little dinghy for just exactly one hour, of which I should think we were being gently shelled for three quarters of an hour. On board the destroyer no harm to speak of: only one man wounded.

Cast anchor at Imbros at 9 p.m. General Legge and Captain H. Lloyd came over to stay the night. Mail from England.

Have cabled again to stir them up about the hospital ships.

18th July, 1915. Church Parade. Inspected troops. Wrote in camp all the afternoon. Walked out to the lighthouse in the evening and watched the shells bursting over Gully Beach where we were yesterday. How often have I felt anxious seeing these shrapnel through the telescope. On the spot, as I know from yesterday's experience, their bark is worse than their bite. Colonel Ward of the Intelligence came to dinner and Captain Doughtie, commanding H.M.S. Abercrombie, paid me a visit.

19th July, 1915. Too much office work. Mr. Schuler, an Australian journalist and war correspondent, turned up. Seems a highly intelligent young fellow. He had met me on tour in Australia. Gave him leave to go anywhere and see everything. The Staff shake their heads, but the future is locked away in our heads, and the more the past is known the better for us.

Braithwaite has heard from the War Office that the Brigade of Russians which had started from Vladivostock to join us here has been counter-ordered. The War Office seem rather pleased than otherwise that this reinforcement has fallen through. Why, I can't imagine. As they are sending us a big fresh force of Britishers, they probably persuade themselves that 5,000 Russians would be more trouble than they are worth, but they forget the many thousands of shortage in my present formations. Since they fixed up to send me the new Divisions I must have lost ten thousand rifles, but as all my old Divisions remain at the Dardanelles in name, they are being regarded at home, we strongly suspect, as a sort of widow's cruse, kept full by miracles instead of men and still, therefore,—Divisions!

In the evening the Vice-Admiral came over and we rode together down to the Naval Seaplane Camp. The King's Messenger left at 5 p.m.

20th July, 1915. Imbros. Wrote double quick, then galloped over to Kephalos to see the New Army, sub rosa. The men we struck were A.1. They belong to the 32nd and 34th Brigades of the 11th Division. The 33rd has gone to Helles to get salted.

Hunter-Weston is still staying with the Admiral. He has had a hard time and a heavy responsibility and is quite worn out. I devoutly trust he may be on his legs again ere long. Have put in Stopford to act for him at Helles. This should teach the young idea how to shoot. With every aspect of the command and administration of the Southern theatre of operations thus under his immediate orders he has a rare chance of learning how to do it and how not to do it.

21st July, 1915.—Just signed a letter to the Chief of the Imperial General Staff and as it gives the run of my thoughts at the moment I spatchcock the opening and final paras:—

"My dear Wolfe Murray,

"How do you manage to find time to write these charming letters of yours with your own hand? They come like a gift from some oriental potentate and carry with them the same moral obligations; i.e., that they ought to be returned in kind. But to-day the time limit interposes, and I know you will pardon me for once if I dictate.

"I am immensely interested in what you say with reference to the 29th Division being below strength, namely, that we are getting short of men. Well,—though one of the keenest voluntary service people existing, I have always envisaged the fact that during a war we might be driven to compulsion. Also in writing out fully my views on this subject (views which I was not permitted by late Chiefs of the General Staff to publish) I have always, for that reason, pressed for National Registration. It does no one any harm, and rubs into the mind of the young man that, under certain conditions, the State has first pull on his pocket, labour, life and everything else. But, of course, if your own wish that the 29th Division should take out 10 per cent. extra for drafts (like the regiments do in France), had been carried into effect, they would never have fallen as low as they actually did.

"Freddy Stopford and Reed have been staying with me for 24 hours, and the former is now in command of the 8th Corps on the Peninsula, Hunter-Weston having gone sick. He asked to stay with the Admiral for a couple of days' rest, and the very moment he got safe on board ship the overstrain of the past month told on him and he went down with a sharp go of fever. I earnestly pray he will get right again quickly for there are not many Commanders of his calibre. Freddy Stopford will now have a good chance of getting the hang of this sort of fighting generally, surrounded as he will be by Hunter-Weston's experienced Staff. After sending my last letter I rather repented of one or two harsh things I said about Reed. There is some truth in them, but I need not have said them. I hope he will do very well out here."

Now since that letter was written (yesterday) in comes a cable from K. saying Winston can't leave England but that Hankey starts in his place.

K. says he is sure I will give him every facility.

A pretty stuffy cable in from the War Office on the Hospital ships and medical personnel and material wrangle which is still going on. I, personally, have checked every item of my estimate with closest personal attention, although it took me hours in the midst of other very pressing duties. This is not Braithwaite's pidgin but Woodward's and there was no help for it. Our first landing found out a number of chinks in our arrangements, and now, my Director of Medical Services is (quite naturally) inclined to open his mouth as wide as if ships were drugs in the market. So I have tried very hard, without too much help, to hit the mean between extravagance and sufficiency. Now the War Office, who would be the first to round on me if anything went wrong with my wounded, query my demands as if we had just splashed off a cable asking for the first things that came into our heads!

I am all for thrift in ships, but thrift in the lives of my wounded comes first; my conscience is clear and I have answered sticking to my point,—firmly! They say the thing is impossible; I have retaliated by saying it is imperative.