Life at Gallipoli: Flies... but Little Sickness? 15th July 1915

“LIFE IN GALLIPOLI.

“KHAKI SHORTS FOR THE “NUTS.”

“A WELL-FED ARMY.

“The Press Association correspondent at Sedd-el-Bahr writes:

“For two months every day has been a blaze of sunshine, with only one or two tropical downpours at night. There is an undoubted tendency observable in all ranks to go about as much possible without tunic or collar, and the favourite wear is a pair of khaki drill shorts such as the Gurkhas sport, leaving the knee and an inch or two of leg above and below it uncovered. Worn with puttees these have a pleasantly airy appearance.

“Many men who cannot get these knickers have made them by amputating a pair of trousers. If you are a “nut” you make a hem round the bottoms. I know one exquisite who has also a fashionable “turn-up” round his. The disadvantage of these garments is that they offer more ground for the flies, which are the great pest here. Food is black with them the instant it is set on table. They fill tents and shelters, and madden men trying to snatch half an hour’s snooze in their dug-outs.

“Bread and jam or biscuit and jam appear at every meal, and it sometimes requires considerable sleight of hand to get the slice to the mouth before the flies are on it. For this reason khaki-coloured jams, apricot and so on, are preferred for war service because the enemy shows up upon them. Army contractors, please note.

“We are a sound army – there is practically no serious sickness – and certainly a well-fed one. The biscuit and bully beef which was the staple food in the first days are how varied by liberal and frequent rations of fresh meat and fresh bread. The meat, both beef and mutton, is Australian frozen meat, and is as good as any one can buy in London. The rations include fresh vegetables – onions and potatoes are going just now, and very good they are — limejuice as an anti-scorbutic, rum, tea, sugar, cigarettes and tobacco, and more tinned beef, cheese, and jam than anyone can eat.

“SEND WRITING PAPER.

“The men’s chief desire is for envelopes and writing paper, packets such as you can buy at home for a penny. There is a Greek-run canteen at which luxuries can be bought. The other day I found Tommy speechless with indignation because after paying a shilling for a tin of condensed milk he found it was German. It had come from a Mecklenburg factory. Similarly a box of cigarettes found its way into our mess on which was printed in English, “Made expressly for 'H___, Esq.,'” whom I suspect of being a German. On one cigarette was the legend, “Made expressly for the Sächsisches Feldartillerie Regiment, Nr. 68.’” It was an incredibly bad cigarette, and I trust the Sächsisches Feldartillerie Regiment, Nr. 68. smokes many of them.

“Messes the officers of which have business with the sea and the ships get luxuries fairly easily. The sailors are kindly souls and come up from the deep bearing various coloured bottles — whiskey, Samian wine, sweet as honey and tasting and smelling of raisins, and, if the ship be French, vermouth. Soda water and butter are the pearls without price which cannot be got for love or money.

“For amusements have sea-bathing and an occasional sing-song at which somebody will sing amusingly enough about “My little dug-out in the East.” The bathing is first-class and much appreciated. The water is nearly always smooth, clear as green crystal, and delightfully cool.

“The troops here, apart from the regulars, seem to be nearly all Scots or North-country men' Lancashire men, Yorkshire miners, and so on. Of these, the Scots sing most and, I suspect, Yorkshiremen the best. The other evening I sailed out of a broad harbour, which Homer knew [Tenedos?], in a transport conveying young Scotch troops. Sandwiched in between rollicking choruses was one which ran something like this:

“I don’t care if the ship goes down.

“For she don’t belong to me.

“The captain, who did care, confided to me that the vigour of this music had embarrassed the navigation of the ship, for he could hardly make his orders heard.

“THE PENINSULA PRESS.”

“We have papers from home when they come, which is all too rarely, and we have our own daily paper, the Peninsula Press, which is supplied to battalions and messes and keeps us abreast of what is happening in the greater theatres of war. I have been lucky enough to secure an ancient volume of Byron’s poems. He can be agreeably reminiscent, as when he brags of having swum the Hellespont:

“A feat on which ourselves we prided,

“Leander, Mr. Ekenhead, and I did.

“One has met many officers and men from the lost ships who nearly emulated this feat. Byron is the poet, to bring with one on this expedition.

“This is a beautiful country. Up to Achi Baba it is a land of scattered farms, fig trees, vines, and pastures. In May, when we first took possession, the fields were bright with poppies, harebells, and other wild flowers. Out to sea the view is entrancing; the mountainous islands with the blue Aegean at their feet, and behind them the still higher peaks of Samothrace across the Gulf of Saros; or across the Dardanelles the cliffs of Asia and the great shoulders of mountain behind them. Best of all is the hour of sunset, when you sit in a deck-chair — if you possess one — watching the sun go down in tranquil splendour upon Imbros.”

'Nottingham Evening Post', 15th July 1915.

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