Photostat copy of diaries of Benjamin Bennett Leane, 1915 - Part 28

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and I have been busy improving
my hole-in-the ground (I can't
dignify it by giving it the title
of "dugout"). I think if it
rains tonight I won't get more
than ordinarily wet.
We've been busy today putting
the finishing touches on our lines.
The Battalion which was camped
here before us left them in a
filthy state - tins, paper, refuse
of all sorts scattered about everywhere:
in some cases, even, the
'possies' had been used as latrines!
And the blighters hadn't even the
decency to disguise it! However,
everything is spick and span now.
Our Battalion has a name for
cleanliness and tidiness, and I'm
not going to let it lose its good
name while I've got it in keeping.
"Tidy man" is quite a new role for me,
isn't it?
"Fritz" came over again this afternoon
but a few well placed shots chased
him home again very quickly.
Poor old Sawer, our Machine Gun
Officer, went to hospital this afternoon.
That wet night finished
him. So our little mess is cut
down to six - Major Beevor, the
C.O. (a self-opinionated old buffer
with a monocle and a large idea
of the dignity of his position);
Major Lorenzo, former Adjutant, now
2^nd in Command (genial, bluff, hearty,
but rude and uncouth, and devoid
of manners); Capt.Minnagall our
Quartermaster (whose life was made
a burden in the days of Lorenzo's
Adjutancy by the latter's bullying,
a kindhearted, generous natured,
silly weak old woman); Capt Morlet,
our Medical Officer (the essence

122
of a gentleman. - I need say
no more); Lieut M^cCann, the
Signalling Officer (alert, keen,
and plucky); and yours
truly (modesty forbids the
extolment of his virtues).
Poor old Sawer, who has gone
to hospital, was one of those
cheerful individuals who, if you
tell him its a nice day,
says "Well, yes, not bad, but
wait till the winter comes." When
everybody else was watching the
weather, and hopefully remarking
on the fact that the sea was
getting much calmer, Sawer
would dismally croak out his
opinion that the "wind was
changin'; and he didn't think
we'd get away tonight sir."
It always took a lot of argument
to convince him that things "might
easily be worse"; his view was that 
they might be better. He was only
cheerful when his gloomy
prophecies came true. He was
always firmly convinced that the
battalion would never get its holiday
and it seems almost like poetic
justice that on the eve of our
departure he should have to
go to hospital. After all, I suppose
it wasn't the poor old chap's fault
that nature and an impaired
digestion (soldiering in India) have
made a pessimist of him).
Sunday, Nov. 21st. - It didn't rain
last night, but it blew! and it
blew cold! All day it has been very
very bleak. However, there's a silver
lining. We got a wire tonight to say
that all being well the 10^th Bn will
embark tonight; 12^th Bn and
Brigade Headqrs tomorrow night

124
We are anxiously watching the sea
in the hope that the weight of our
intense gaze will act as oil on the waters.
The wind is blowing from the north east
so I fancy it won't get too rough.
Col. McPhee turned up yesterday
after a few months' absence. He is
the padre (Protestant) who was with
us on the "Ionian", and is a real
good sort, so we persuaded him
to hold a special church parade
for our Battalion this morning It was
the largest church-parade that has
ever been held on this Peninsular, I
should think. it is getting dark
now, so I must stop. We are to 
start moving about 7.30 pm. I hope
Beechy keeps quiet
Monday, Nov. 22^nd 1915
It is difficult to realise that we
are actually away from the
Peninsular at last. It seems too good to
be true. But oh! what a beast of
a night we had of it. We got
away about 7.45 pm so as to reach
the pier by the appointed time -
9 p.m. (It is a good hour's march, up
hill & down hill). On the way
we passed the 2^nd Div. Headqrs, so I
broke away and said goodbye to
Ted. Incidentally I scored a couple
packets of chocolate from him
We reached the pier in time,
only to find that the transport
had not arrived. It was terribly
bleak, so we packed the men
into a cutting and sat down to
wait. We discovered a cheery,
hospitable Lancashire lad, who was
drying some gear by a big wood
fire, & who invited us to "coom
inside choom, & warm thaself".

126
So we put in the first hour or
two patiently enough. But the

fire died down and the wind
arose and the rain fell and
we all froze - and still no
transport. At length she
hove in sight and at about
4 a.m. we commenced to embark
- in open lighters. The Colonel
went in the first lighter, so I stayed
for the second. After being
washed aground and towed off
again about three times we eventually
got away, and at last
after a bitter hour in the lighter
it hurts just to think of it; so I won't
attempt to describe it, we got
aboard the "Princess Ena". The judicious
handling of a little silver secured
me a cabin, and it was with
a grateful heart that I turned
in between my blankets. It was
nearly eleven when the steward
awakened me with a cup of tea and
some bread & butter, and the information

that we were just about to enter Lemnos
harbor. I had a shave and wash
and got up on deck just as we
dropped anchor. Although we
reported to the "Aragon"
immediately (same day the
world will hear all about
the "Aragon" and her numerous
highly paid and rarely worked
staff) we had received no
order to ∧ disembark by up to
5pm. I sent a further wire
asking for orders, and stating
that we were without rations.
And then, just as it was
getting dark a tug came
alongside for baggage, with

128
the cheerful (?) information that
another tug was following shortly
to take off the troops. The
prospect of disembarking and
going into strange camp in the
xx night and in a freezing
wind was not a pleasant one,
but we got busy with the
luggage, and had it about
half loaded when orders came
to cancel the move, and
that we would disembark
at 6 a.m. next morning. So
we pulled the luggage off
again. ("It's a way we have
in the army"). Personally I
rather preferred to spend the
night in a warm cabin
than on the bleak shore.
The next thing to see about
was eating. The Colonel and
I made love to the captain, and
he dug up a case of bully
beef and biscuits for the men
and persuaded his chief cook
to curry some tinned rabbit
for us. I have enjoyed more
sumptuous repasts, but never
one that was more welcome.
And then I had a hot
bath! The first for nearly
four months, and went
to bed. And here I am
writing this and I'm not
going to write any more, for
I'm sleepy. Night nights.
Tuesday 23^rd Nov.
We got ashore about 10 a.m.
and here we are in our
"rest camp" at Sarpi, West 
Mudros. I don't think its
going to be much of a rest

130
camp for me for a few days,
for there's rain blowing up, and
the camp badly needs draining.
Our camp is situated just above
an 'arm' of the bay. Across
the water is the big hospital
camp. Our camp proper is
just the 3^rd Brigade, and
a little outside are odd units,
such as A.M.C. Ordnance etc.
The men are all quartered
in big marquee tents (40 to
a tent) and the officers
have bell tents. I am
sharing one with Capt. Morlet,
our M.O., and with a few
boxes and two stretchers (ambulance)
we have made quite
a homely little place of it.
But oh it's a bleak spot.
The wind howls and whistles
all night and all day. I went
along to see Roy today. He
was rolled up in his blankets.
Wednesday 24th Nov. 1915.
No "rest camp" this; not
for a few days anyway. Everybody
has to get busy getting things
straight and in order. I had
a row with Major Waters, the
Brigade Staff Captain, this morning
over the drainage business. We
have been bucking in getting
our drains constructed, and
this morning he came along
& wanted everything different.
He is one of those fussy
individuals who put more
count on appearance than
utility. He knows as much
about camp engineering as
I do about dressmaking - probably

132
less. Because the 9^th & 11^th
adopted a certain plan
(their ground has a gentle
slope in one direction) he
wanted me to adopt the
same plan "so that is would
all look regular". I pointed
out that the conformation of
the ground would not permit
of our adopting the same
plan. "Oh' he said "never
mind about the conformation
of the ground; I've managed
all that." So I pointed out
politely that Nature had
managed that before ever he
came to Lemnos. At that he
went away fuming, assuring me
that I would hear more about
it etc etc. However, we are
pushing on with our same old
scheme, which, although it
won't "look" exactly like the
others, will at least drain
off our surplus rain water
and prevent our tents from
being flooded out.
We had a good big mail
today, - 24 bags. I got a
letter from you, & one each
from Mother, Aunt Agnes, Ethel,
Norman, Heritage, and
Miss Sanders. Also a bonny
parcel from Aunt Agnes -
3 cakes, a lot of chocolate,
peppermints, chewing gum, and
a tin of acid drops, and a
magazine. They're good sorts.
Heritage is (or was when he
wrote) in Cairo, and was
expecting to be sent to England.
He is still far from well.

134
Thursday 25th Nov.
We absorbed our 8^th 9^th
& 10^th. Reinforcements today,
about 450 of them. So we
are now practically up to
strength. On the whole they
are not a bad lot, but
I don't know how many of
them managed to pass the
doctor - narrow chested,
wizened little specimens of
humanity. That they are.
They're not the type we had
in the old original 10^th.
Stan Taylor and young
Sandery from Prospect are
both with this batch.
It is still terribly cold and
bleak, and rains at intervals.
Friday 26th Nov. 1915.
I made an excursion
across to the South Pier this afternooon
intending to get the ferry there
and go aboard the "Aragon"
and the "Minnetonka" on 
business. However, it was
too rough for the ferry, so
the afternoon was wasted.
The exercise was good, anyway.
We have an officer's mess
going now, and things are
gradually assuming decent
shape throughout the camp.
Our drains were well
tested by a heavy downpour
last night - 
and survived the test.
We have a g Greek
canteen near the camp
where such luxuries as
fruit, dried figs, nuts, etc
etc. can be purchased. Also

136
a moderate supply of beer
and stout is available.
At present we are being
issued daily with a
bottle of beer (Pilsner) or
stout (M^cGuiness) per day.
I don't know how longit
will last.
Saturday Nov. 27^th 1915.
Last night I thought my
tent was going to blow down,
the wind was so strong.
This morning I discovered
that three or four had been
blown right over. The wind
has dropped a little now,
but is still strong.
This morning we had the
whole battalion formed
up on parade for inspection.
It was grand to see over
a thousand me lined up
together again, and to see
them all move together on
the order. It was the
first time I had used my
voice on a parade for
about eight years (in the
old 10^th Regiment) and in
those days I never commanded
more than a company. So
that I was rather doubtful
whether I'd be able to make
my voice loud enough to
be heard by a battalion.
However, they heard alright.
After inspection we marched
them off in column of
route, and they looked real
good. We haven't had
a pucker battalion parade
for eight months, you know.

138
One of our reinforcements who
was sent to hospital before
we arrived, has been found
to have been suffering from 
meningitis, and has since
died, so we have had
to isolate a whole tent full
of contacts. I hope it
doesn't spread.
Poor old Roy is not at all
well. You know I said
before that I reckoned he
would go pieces once he
got away from the trenches

and relaxed, and that
is just what has happened.
However, a certain number
of officers per battalion are
being granted a week's leave
in Egypt presently, so
perhaps that will do him
good.
Sunday Nov. 28^th 1915.
Church parade this morning.
What do you think, we had
a fall of snow this morning
- just a light fall, but
quite big flakes. It is
bitterly cold.
Monday Nov. 29^th 1915
Another rough night last
night. I have never known
such bleak weather.
Today we had quite a
decided fall of snow.
This morning there was

a crust of ice quite
an inch thick on all
our buckets of water -
fancy shaving and washing
in it - ugh! it fairly
tears the skin from one's face