g the knoll, I would have been astonished, had I had any
faculty of astonishment left in me, to meet Beetleheim, the Turk, who
was with French in South Africa. I suppose he is here as an interpreter,
or something, but I didn't ask. Seeing me alone for the moment he came
along. He had quite a grip of the battle and seemed to hope I might let
the Manchesters try and stick it out through the night, as he thought
the Turks were too much done to do much more. But it was not good
enough. To fall back was agony; not to do it would have been folly.
Hunter-Weston felt the same. When Fate has first granted just a sip of
the wine of success the slip between the cup and lip comes hardest. The
upshot of the whole affair is that the enemy still hold a strong line of
trenches between us and Achi Baba. Our four hundred prisoners, almost
all made by the Manchester Brigade, amongst whom a good number of
officers, do not console me. Having to make the Manchesters yield up
their hard won gains is what breaks my heart. Had I known the result of
our fight before the event, I should have been happy enough. Three or
four hundred yards of ground plus four hundred prisoners are distances
and numbers which may mean little in Russia or France, but here, where
we only have a mile or two to go, land has a value all its own. Yes, I
should have been happy enough. But, to have to yield up the best
half--the vital half--of our gains--to have had our losses trebled on
the top of a cheaply won victory--these are the reverse side of our
medal for the 4th June.

Going back we fell in with a blood-stained crowd from the Hood, Howe and
Anson Battalions. Down the little gully to the beach we could only walk
very slowly. At my elbow was Colonel Crauford Stuart, commanding the
Hood Battalion. He had had his jaw smashed but I have seen men pull
longer faces at breaking a collar stud. He told me that the losses of
the Naval Division has been very heavy, the bulk of them during their
retreat. From the moment the Turks drove the French out of the
_"Haricot"_ the enfilade fire became murderous.

On the beach was General de Lisle, fresh from France. He is taking over
the 29th Division from Hunter-Weston who ascends to the command of the
newly formed 8th Army Corps. De Lisle seemed in very good form although
it must have been rather an eye-opener landing in the thick of this huge
stream of wounded. How well I remember seeing him galloping at the head
of his Mounted In