I found, on my return in September, that life on the Peninsula was much less strenuous than when I had left for Egypt at the end of July. The Turks must have been very short of ammunition, for few shells were fired for the first five or six weeks after our arrival. I was able to have drills and parades in the open, exposed to the full view of Achi Baba and Krithia—a thing which would have been out of the question in the early days. It was quite a pleasure to be able to ride about all over the Peninsula even to within a few hundred yards of the Turkish trenches without being shelled. Of course, in the days when the Turks had plenty of ammunition, they thought nothing of wasting half a dozen rounds on a solitary horseman, and many a time have I had to gallop at breakneck speed to avoid the shrapnel which they peppered me with on many occasions. I was very glad indeed that shells were rather scarce, as it gave my recruits time to get into shape and get used to the conditions of warfare.

The new Cairo men took to the life very kindly, and soon burrowed themselves well into the ground and adapted themselves to cave dwelling as to the manner born.

In the evenings, when our day's toil was ended, we had concerts round our camp fires and enjoyed ourselves as much as it was possible to do under the circumstances; in fact, at times we used to forget that we were at war.

The camp-fire sing-songs were rather weird affairs—songs in English (Tipperary, for choice), French, Russian, Hebrew and Arabic—the two latter made rather melancholy by the plaintive wail of the East. Some of the men were first-rate Russian dancers and expert wrestlers, so we had many excellent little side-shows.

The concerts were always ended by singing "God Save the King," the Marseillaise (for many French soldiers would be present), the Russian Anthem, and last of all the MaccabÆan March.

We had many visitors to our quaint polyglot lines; a strenuous lieutenant all the way from Canada often called on us, and I was indebted to him for an invitation to come and try my hand at tent-pegging on a beautiful tan track which he had made and at which various officers used to meet to run a course.

Now I used to be rather good at the game, and I think I rather surprised my Canadian friend, Maurice, when, in answer to his bantering challenge: "Now, Colonel, show us how it's done!" I took every peg for which I tried. It was good to find that one could still ride straight and depend on eye, hand and arm, and that the spear-point could be made to strike the peg as squarely and as surely as of old.

There was not a great deal of work to be done in these days, as there was now any amount of other Transport which took much of the weight off our shoulders.

The lack of steady hard work made the mules very frisky, and some of them were regular demons. We had one which was rightly named Beelzebub, for he was indeed a prince of devils, and I veritably believe he made all the other mules laugh when he kicked one or other of the N. C. O.'s or men. He had an extraordinary cat-like faculty of being able to plant fore and hind feet into one's ribs practically simultaneously, while at the same moment he would make a grab at one's head, emitting all the while strange noises and terrifying squeals! He pinned me in a corner one day, apparently to the delight of the other mules, and I was glad to get out of it alive! In order to make him pay a little more respect to his commanding officer for the future, I ordered him to be tied up to a tree and kept for a day without food or water. This, however, did not fall in with Beelzebub's theory of things, so he gnawed through the rope in the night and then made for the forage stack, where, to make up for lost time, he ate about six mule rations!—at which the other mules did not laugh!

No one was over-particular about Beelzebub's safety, as he was not what might be called popular, so instead of being put down with the others in a dug-out, where indeed he would have kicked them to bits, he was generally left by himself in about the most exposed position that could be found for him in the camp, and I am quite certain that both Jewish and Gentile prayers went up for his speedy annihilation by a Turkish shell; but Beelzebub bore a charmed life. Shells hopped all round him, cut in two great trees which sheltered him, excavated enormous caverns at his very heels, but the only effect they had on Beelzebub was to rouse his ire and start him off on a fresh kicking bout. At last a chunk of shell hit the ground close to him, bounced up and "ricked" off his ribs, making a wound, not very serious, it is true, but still not exactly calculated to improve his diabolical temper.

I sent him off to the sick lines to have his wound dressed. Now I never could find out what he actually did to the veterinary surgeon who tried to doctor him there, but this officer wrote a polite little note requesting me to be so very kind as to remember in future that his hospital was for sick mules—not for Man-Eaters!

I have already mentioned that on the night of my return to Gallipoli from Egypt a brilliant moon was shining, and by the light of it I saw great mounds of earthworks thrown up just to one side of our lines. On looking closer, I found that these were the emplacements for four heavy French guns of 9.6-inch calibre.

I cannot say that I was over-pleased at the sight, because I knew that the moment they opened fire their position would be seen from Achi Baba, and the shells which the Turks would be bound to hurl at them would be more than likely to miss the battery and hit my men and my mules.

Two French officers were in charge of the siege pieces, Captain Cujol and Lieutenant La RiviÈre, both exceedingly nice men with whom we made great friends. The gallant captain was a great horseman, and I often delighted him (for he had no horse with him) by mounting him on one of mine, and together riding over the Peninsula. Lieutenant La RiviÈre, who was a much-travelled man, often entertained us with stories of his wanderings and adventures in Arabia, Abyssinia and the Soudan in the long evenings after we had all dined together in our cosy little dug-out.

While I was away recruiting in Egypt the glamour of the Horse Artillery had fallen upon Gye, and, furthermore, Davidson and other officers of L Battery had beguiled him, so that soon after my return he asked me if I would let him go to the Gunners. I was glad to recommend him for the transfer, for I felt that with his sound common sense and good horsemastership he would be of more use to the general cause as a gunner than as a muleteer.

I had two British officers still left with me, and here, too, was a case of good material being wasted on work which could have been equally well done by less brainy men.

Claude Rolo was an eminent civil engineer, and had constructed some of the most important public buildings in Egypt, and, of course, his proper place would have been with the Sappers. His brother, I. Rolo, with his vast business experience in Egypt, should have been employed as purchasing agent for the Army, where his knowledge of local affairs would undoubtedly have saved us tens of thousands of pounds. His talents were wasted merely keeping the records of the Zion Mule Corps Depot at Alexandria. I recommended both for transfer, but I fear their services are still being wasted.

I wonder when we will wake up to the fact that we have plenty of talent if only those in authority would avail themselves of it and use it in the right way.