t deadly weapons they proved, if a Turk got one in
the stomach it simply blew him in two.

Word came in the early hours of last night that we had to prepare for
our return to Gallipoli on Monday August 2. No one seems actually
sorry, we feel that we have got all the good out of this place that is
to be had, and the sooner we are all in our places the sooner will the
war be over. We had much wind and dust in the morning, the wind
falling later when it became uncomfortably warm. We had few flies in
our camp at first, but they soon found us out and became as trying a
plague as in Gallipoli. The Kaffirs say God made the bees, and the
Devil made the flies.

_August 2nd._--We left our camp in Lemnos at 12.15 and marched in a
solid cloud of dust to Australian Pier, where we had to wait in the
grilling sun for another hour before we got off to the "Abessiah," of
the Khedivial Line, which sailed at 4.15, taking a long time to
manoeuvre before she got her head towards the entrance of the harbour.
We had a good afternoon tea of crisp toast and real butter, likely our
last respectable meal for many a day.

As we passed through the shipping the old familiar cry of "Are we
downhearted?" came from some of the shiploads of fresh troops. There
was but a feeble reply from our men, very unlike their shouts as we
passed through Malta on the way out. We could not raise a cheer
now-a-days, we are still too tired in spite of our rest. We feel a lot
of desperate men, prepared to go back and face the worst if need be.
We passed a British and French submarine just inside the boom guarding
the harbour.

Before midnight our ambulance was transferred to a mine-sweeper and
landed at V. Beach, leaving myself and twenty-one men behind to look
after the baggage, which is always landed at W. We had a weary night
of it, the trans-shipping of our heavy goods with fifteen mail bags
which we picked up just as we were leaving Lemnos, being a big job. On
coming round to W. Beach we were told we would have to remain where we
were till 7 o'clock, or perhaps later.

_August 3rd._--It is now 6.30 a.m. and the captain and crew are still
sound asleep, at any rate not a soul is stirring.

We overlook our old Beach, which looks as forbidding from the sea as
it is in reality. A few minutes ago I watched a Taube drop a bomb
beside our Ordnance Stores, another near the C.C.S., and a third a
little further on. What has come of that French monoplane whose
purp