Photostat copy of diaries of Benjamin Bennett Leane, 1915 - Part 22

Trenches.
Anzac, Gallipoli Pens.

Sunday.  Aug 12/15    

                 Sept
Dearest old Girl,
There is nothing
like making a happy beginning
is there, and this certainly has
been a day of pleasure happenings
To begin with, the parcel of
tobacco, socks, and chocolate came
from [[?]]; later found
letters from Ethel and Mother;
next a batch of fourteen returned
from England - three from you,
several from mother and Ethel,
one ^each from Norman, Miss Saunders,
& Ted. Then came another
xxxx from you. In the afternoon
I went across to see Roy
(who is acting C.O. Of the 11^th. Bn.)
and who should be there
but Ted! And when I
get back there was another
 

2/
letter from you, dated Aug 3^rd,
the loveliest old letter you
have ever written I think.
I sat down right away and
replied to it, so I won’t say
any more about it.
Things are comparatively quiet 
at the moment and artillery

is exchanging its usual evening
[[?]] with John Turks guns.

And the poor old infantry

has to foot the bill as usual.

You see, our observers can’t 
see the Turks guns, and their
observers can’t see our guns,
as they work out their [[?]]
this way. John Turk plumps 
a big shell into the trenches;
then our guns do ditto to
John Turk [[?]]. Then
they go again, until each
has heard about twenty or
thirty shells with the others
from inoffensive infantry.
And the one who busts up
the parapets most wins. 
At least that is what it looks
Like to us, the poor victims.
Occassionally one of our own
shells will get fired and
drop into our own lines -
we call that a “[[?]]”.
John Turk, than whom there
is none more polite, will do
likewise to his own lines.
Poor old infantry - they do all
the fatigues, all the trench digging,
all the support work; supply
all the parties, whether burial,
guard, ceremonial or anything
else do the brunt of the
fighting, walk everywhere then

4/
go and “hang their blueys”
loo; and then even in
peace ties they are given

the most drab and un -
picturesque uniform of any
arm, with not a bit of
gold lace or red stripe to
smarten them up xxxxx.
Nevertheless, they’re the boys !
night night sweetheart, I’ve 
got the all night watch again 
tonight. Aug Sept 13^th 1915.
All the morning, from about
4am. To noon, there has been
a continuous rumble of guns
from towards Cape Helles. Poor
Achi Baba is evidently getting it
I wonder is there anything doing.
Otherwise everything quiet. It is
unofficially stated that the
Connaught Rangers took three or four

lines of trenches to the north a
couple of mornings ago.
This morning I lost one of my 
platoon. He was in the circular
trench - about 7.30 a.m. - and
whether he put his head over the
parapet or got one through a 
loophole will never be known,
but he was seen to fall, and he
was dead. Clean through the
forehead. [[Leane?]] was his name,
one of the old 10^th and a very
decent boy. Rough luck.
Tuesday Aug Sept 14^th 1915
Another extraordinarily day quiet
day. More rumbling from down
south for about three or four

hours this morning. Last night

while I was on watch, about
 early this morning a light rain
continued to fall, and continued
until about 6.30 a.m. The ground
became  very sticky, so we can
expect trouble when the rains
come frequently. The weather
today is most beautiful, just
pleasantly bright and sunny. The
view from Artillery Road across the
gullies and over the blue sea
to Imbros and Samothracia is 
most entrancing. It made one
think that there could be no war,
that the whole thing was just a
peace time camp, a sort of picnic.
Only the little plot planted thickly
with rough wooden crosses seemed
to tell a different tale.
I met Ray Satterley ( one -time
of [[?]] ) this afternoon. He landed
 two days ago with the 4^th Coy. Engineers.

He was in the New Guinea business.
The men are being paid today.Our

companies share is £ 397, which works
out at £2.10.0 per man, and, £3 to £5
for.C.O.s. I am drawing £10 of which
I owe about £5. - £2 of company funds
which have been in my possession since
April, £2 to Ted for photos. etc which I
left him to pay for in Cairo.
And £1 for my batman.
Thursday Aug Sept 16^{th -} stayed in till
lunch time; awakened to find three
letters on my stool - one from Uncle
Arthur, one from a friend I met in
Manchester, and one fro Mr. Arthur
Gibbs, secretary to the Colonial Mutual
Life Assoc in London, writing me to
dinner at his house - like offering
beef steak pudding to a hungry

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