Evan's Gallipoli Read Online Free PDF Page A

distributed my load of tins and bottles and was making my way down again when there was a really close bang and I was flung into a hole. Quite a deep hole, luckily. I was just trying to clear my eyes so that I could see to climb out when someone stirred and I realised that I was not alone. A boy was lying in the hole with me.
    He was a Turk. About the same size and age as me, with that round Turkish hat, covered in mud just as I was. The guns opened up again and I put my hands over my ears. He did the same. When the barrage had died down I said ‘Hello’ in English then in Greek. I thought that perhaps Greek might be close to Turkish. But he answered me in English!
    â€˜Hello,’ he said. ‘Don’t shoot, in the name of Allah, the merciful, the compassionate.’
    â€˜I have no gun,’ I said. ‘I won’t shoot in any name. Am I behind Turkish lines or are you lost?’
    â€˜There was a shell,’ he said, ‘and I just dived into the hole. I don’t know which side we are on. What are you doing here? Are you a soldier?’
    â€˜No, I’m on a mission to comfort the soldiers,’ I told him. ‘I bring them food and things to make them happier.’
    â€˜Pity there aren’t any of you on our side,’ he said. ‘My name is Abdul.’
    I smiled because that was what the soldiers called the Turks, Abduls. ‘I am Evan. You speak good English!’
    â€˜My father is a diplomat,’ he said proudly. ‘I went to the best schools. But now there is trouble in Turkey. Politics. My father is in prison and I was sent here, to punish him. I am a runner and water-carrier. There were nine of us. Now there is only me. Your soldiers pick us off as we run from trench to trench.’
    â€˜That is a terrible thing,’ I said, because it was. ‘Why did Turkey ally itself with the Germans? It is the Germans that we are fighting, you know.’
    â€˜ Ins’hallah ,’ Abdul said. ‘That is politics again. We cannot expect to understand it. We can only obey. And die.’
    I agreed. I put down my pack and rummaged in it. I could see that he had lice; one crawled across his face as I was talking to him.
    â€˜This powder will kill your lice,’ I said, and offered it to him.
    He took it. Then he smiled. It was a lovely smile. Then he gave a sort of salute, climbed out of the hole, and was gone.
    That was a strange meeting. I found our lines by listening for English voices and paced down, slowly and carefully. So that was the enemy. And my friends, Bluey and Curly, were shooting boys like him.
    I found Father a little better for his rest. I prayed a lot this evening. For peace. For me, and Father, and boys like Abdul.
    June 24th
    The beach says that the navy is about to start shelling the heights, like Bluey said, and then the Turks will retreat and we will be able to capture them. However, there are no new ships in the straits so this does not seem likely. This morning I talked to a sailor—who looked terribly clean in his white uniform and little round hat—who was waiting for a hospital evacuation on the sand. He was in charge of the boat. He said that it was only a matter of time before the British High Command realised that the attack on Gallipoli could not succeed and withdrew the troops. If the troops withdraw we will go too. Out of here. Oh, I long to be out of here. But then the sailor said that if they didn’t withdraw it would be a great military disaster and that doesn’t sound good.
    I am worried about Father. If I see Major Western I shall ask him to send us across to Lemnos or Mudros for a few days. Just until he gets his strength back.
    The troops really like my father. They started off by being very rude, swearing at him, telling him that God has forsaken this place (though God is everywhere). He didn’t get angry. He spoke gently to them. He tells them that God loves them and they almost believe