A GALLIPOLI EVENING

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2635, 4 December 1915, Page 11

A GALLIPOLI EVENING

PEACE IN WAR. Writing from Anzac Cove on October 3, Staff-Sergeant Keith Little, who went away with the Main Body, says:—"The weather is just now very pleasant, in fact to-day it is pretty warm. The nights are beautifully fine, but the air is chilly. Generally a fog settles down o.ver the hills at night, and the air bccomes fresh. Although the water is somewhat cold, we continue swimming and thoroughly enjoy it. Ever since returning here the Tutlis have been discreet in their shell fire. Formerly it used to be nothing but shells from this way v and that, but now the beach is only. shelled occasionally. This is one result of our splendid attack in August, but .we still have some hard work to do. > Many rumours are floating around about the early ending of the war. . . . The New Zealand hospital ship was. lying idly, at anchor the other day, but left last night. She looks a picture, all painted white, with the big red crosses on her sides, forward, amidships, and aft. . . . The other evening I went up the hills at the back to watch the ships shelling an enemy position. We could not see much from where we were, so we wandered along a communication trench, and out into a small crater, where we sat and admired tho sunset. As the huge ball of crimson fire touched the horizon a destroyer steamed slowly across its face— a wonderfully unique effect, and one that if pictured by an artist, would probably be scoffed at as absurd. Tho destroyer just looked like a railway train enveloped in fire. Tho air was perfectly stillonly disturbed by the hurtling shells from the warships and monitors .which were spitting death and destruction, and whose mood was not at all in harmony with the scene. Then we heard a humming in the air, and, looking: up, we saw one of our own' aircraft gliding serenely through space. Below iw—for we were up a good height—stretched the beach, the still waters softly lapping the shore. Eight from Suvla Bay to our place (Anzac Cove) this beach runs in a perfect bay. Tugs towing barges laden with supplies were drawing in to the piers, while at intervals along the beach could be seen groups of bathers; Presently, along tho road which runs north came our mule transport', carting supplies to our men in the trenches. These carts are driven by Indians, and as' ; the mules strain over the rough road the drivers chant soft, "weird songs of the jungle and the mountains. All these sounds float up on the still air in a pleasant sort of symphony, with the warships' guns for percussion instruments. . . . A strange war this—hard at times' to realise even here that a war is on, and we are in the firing line."