By this time, after many weeks and months of delving, the efforts of our Engineers and other troops to alter the geographical features of the Peninsula began to have effect. Long lines of communication trenches were dug to and fro everywhere. Indeed, the amount of earthwork that was excavated in digging trenches and dug-outs, both at Helles and Anzac, was simply "colossal." If the same amount of digging, trenching and dug-outing had been concentrated into one effort, it would have been possible to make a canal across the narrowest part of the Peninsula, wide enough and deep enough for the Queen Elizabeth and the rest of the British Fleet to sail through, without let or hindrance, to Constantinople!

One good thing the diggers did was to make the communication trenches wide and deep enough to give ample cover to horses and mules. In consequence of this, it was now possible to take ammunition and supplies to the front during daylight, and so most of our night work ceased. Small detachments of men and mules were attached to various battalions for transport work, and all over the Peninsula Zion men could be met cantering along on their mules—for they were good horsemen—and they invariably rode when they had a chance. They looked very comical as they galloped along, uttering exulting yells, their faces grimy, caps crammed home on the back of their heads, jacketless and with torn shirts, perched up on the pack saddles, the chains of which clattered loudly at each stride of the mule. Our soldiers, with their usual happy knack for nicknames, christened them the "Allies Cavalry," while a brilliant wit went even one better and dubbed them "Ally Sloper's Cavalry!"

While the men were out on these detached posts, I, of course, visited them at regular intervals to see that they were keeping up the reputation of the Corps and also to hear any reports or complaints they might have to make. It was rarely that a day went by without something odd or amusing, or both, happening at one or other of these detached posts. For example: I had some men stationed up the Gully Ravine, and just before I visited them the Turks had given them a vigorous bombardment which had set fire to the forage which was stored close by the mules. The last of it was being burned up just as I arrived on the scene and, as my men were still lying low in their dug-out, I shouted for the corporal and angrily demanded why they had not saved the forage. He replied: "Turk he fire shells, plenty shells, hot, hot—too bloody hot," which showed that their sojourn with the British Army, if it was doing nothing else, was at least improving their knowledge of classical English!

Although Gye had by this time joined L Battery for duty, he still lived with me in our little dug-out under the great olive tree, which, by the way, now supplied us with excellent olives. Being with the gunners, he would occasionally get early news of an artillery "strafe," which, as a rule, we went together to watch from some commanding position.

I was not surprised, therefore, when one afternoon he came in from the battery and told me there was to be a most interesting "shoot" on in the afternoon, nothing less than the "strafing" of a troublesome Turkish redoubt by the huge guns of one of the Monitors. As this promised to be a rare good show, we sallied forth on our horses, taking the road by X Beach and the Gully Ravine. On reaching our observation post and seeing no sign of a Monitor in the vicinity, I remarked to Gye: "It certainly is a very fine afternoon for a ride, but I don't see much appearance of that 'strafe' you promised to show me."

"I think it will be all right," replied Gye, "there is the Monitor away out at sea," pointing to a speck close over to the Imbros shore, some seven or eight miles away—a mere cockleshell in the distance.

On looking from the speck to the redoubt I said: "It is not a 'strafe' you have brought me out to see but a miracle," because it looked to me that it would be little short of a miracle to hit that small redoubt which, of course, could only be faintly seen from the tops of the Monitor by telescope.

However, I hadn't to wait long for the wonderful sight. Punctually to the moment when it was expected, we saw the Monitor enveloped in great billows of waving clouds of flame and smoke—one of her great 14-inch guns had been fired. Anxiously we watched the redoubt and, incredible as it may seem, the shell only failed to strike it by thirty yards, for at that distance from it a great upheaval of earth could be seen. Again we watched, the Monitor. "Pouf!" went her second gun, this time sending the shell plump into the redoubt. The result was extraordinary. Up went Turks, rocks, timbers, guns, all mixed up in a cloud of smoke, flame and earth—a marvellous shot! Three more followed in quick succession, each one plumping right into the redoubt, pulverising it absolutely out of existence. It was as if a steam-roller had gone over the earthworks. A few more shells were dropped into the fort, just to make sure, and one of these, having struck some hard substance, "ricked" across the Peninsula, over the Dardanelles, and exploded in Asia!

I took off my hat to the man behind the gun on that Monitor. If he is a type of all other gunners in the British Navy, the Germans may as well scrap their fleet without further ado.

After watching this wonderful feat of gunnery, we were riding back towards camp, when we saw running towards us an old soldier of a Scottish regiment in a state of great excitement, apparently having something of importance to impart. I pulled up my horse and asked him what was the matter. He told me in the broadest Scotch that there was a German spy a little further down among the gorse taking notes and sketching the position of a heavy battery which was in position close by the sea. I asked the Scotty how he knew the man was a spy, and he said: "He's goin' on verra suspeecious."

I got him to point out the exact position of the supposed spy and then I arranged with Gye that I would go up and open conversation casually with him, and that if I made a certain signal, he was to gallop off for an escort. I found the "spy" dressed in khaki in the uniform of a Scottish regiment. I opened the conversation by asking if he had seen the magnificent shooting of the Monitor, and carried it on until I found out who he was and from whence he had come. I knew that his regiment was forward in the trenches, so I asked him why he was not at the front, and he told me that he was going through a course at the bombing school and so, for the moment, was away from his battalion. He seemed all right, but to make sure I sent Gye over to see the Instructor at the bombing school, which was close by, to find out if such an officer was really there taking a course.

While Gye was away I strolled to the edge of the cliff with the supposed spy who, I was now pretty sure, was what he represented himself to be—a British officer. Down below us on the shore was the body of a dead horse, half in and half out of the sea, and tearing at it was a good-sized shark which we could see very plainly, for the water was beautifully clear. My spy got very keen on seeing this and, borrowing a rifle from a soldier standing near, he made such good shooting at the shark that it speedily gave up its horse-feast and plunged off to the depths in terrified haste. In the midst of the fusillade, Gye came back to say all was well, so bidding my "spy" good-afternoon, we rode off to our camp.

There is no doubt, however, that the Peninsula was alive with spies, and at night, on returning from the trenches, when all the camps would be in slumber, I have repeatedly seen flashes sent up from the British lines towards Krithia, where they would be answered, but although I tried on several occasions to locate the signaller, I never succeeded in doing so. Of course I reported the matter to Headquarters, but whether they were more successful than myself I never learned.

On one occasion, a night or two before we made a big attack, I distinctly saw signals flashed from the neighbourhood of the cliffs by the Gully Ravine, where there was the Headquarters of a Division, to the lines of the Royal Naval Division, from which a signaller answered back; both then signalled to somebody on the hill where the Headquarters Staff of our Army Corps were established, and this signaller in his turn flashed messages up to Krithia, where there was a steady red light shown for a considerable time while the signalling was in progress. I tried to locate the signaller on the Headquarters hill, but failed. I then reported the matter to the Chief Signalling Officer, who told me that whatever lights I had seen were not made by our people, as none of the signallers were out on duty that night. Gye and I found the spot from which the daring spy on the Headquarters hill had been signalling. It was most craftily selected, as it was completely sheltered for three-quarters of the way round, and his light could only be seen from the direction of Krithia; I had not been able to observe it until I came into a direct line between Krithia and the hill.

The tricks and daring of the spy are wonderful! It was common gossip in the Peninsula that a Greek contractor who was allowed to sell some tinned foods, etc., to the soldiers, had in some of the larger tins, not eatables, but carrier pigeons, which he would send off to the Turks on suitable occasions, but whether this is true or not I cannot say for certain. It was rumoured that he was found out and shot.

Some of our fellows used to do the most extraordinary things. A sergeant, thoroughly bored with life in the trenches, thought he would like to break the monotony by having a look at the Turks, so, shouldering his rifle, he sauntered over to the enemy trenches and looked in, and there saw five Turks, three sitting together smoking and two others lying down having a rest. He shot all five and then doubled back to his own trench, escaping in some marvellous way the hail of bullets that came after him.

Then there was Lieutenant O'Hara of the Dublins, who was always doing some daring feat and showing his contempt of death and the Turks on every conceivable occasion. He won the D. S. O. before going to Suvla, where, alas! his luck deserted him, and he was mortally wounded. O'Hara firmly believed that no Turk could ever kill him, for he thought nothing of sitting up on the parapet coolly smoking a cigarette, while bullets rained all round him. When he had finished his survey of the Turkish line he would get down, but not before.

Another brave man of the Dublins was Sergeant Cooke. If ever there was a dangerous job he always volunteered for it, and was constantly out reconnoitring the enemy's position and bringing in useful information to his officers. He, too, was very lucky for a long time; he was one of the few who escaped all hurt in the original landing, but at Suvla, Sergeant Cooke, while doing a brave deed, was mortally wounded, and, although he must have been in great agony for a couple of hours before he died, he never uttered a groan. Just before the last, he said: "Am I dying like a British soldier?" No soldier ever died more gamely.