Evan's Gallipoli Read Online Free PDF Page B

about a plan of theirs for a place called the Nek. He said it was plain bloody murder and he wasn’t swearing. I made chamomile tea for him and Father.
    They told me to do the same but I can’t. Modesty is very important to Father. Also I have our emergency fund—ten English sovereigns—in a webbing belt around my waist and I don’t want anyone to see them. Aunt Euphie gave them to me when we were leaving and made me promise not to tell Father about them. There isn’t a lot to spend them on in the Dardanelles.
    June 30th
    Father is definitely ill. He shivers as with cold all the time. I slipped some quinine into his lime juice but he would not drink it, saying it was too bitter. He searched through our luggage to find a piece of white material for some reason. I gave him a big white bandage used to make slings for broken arms. Then he was happy and went to sleep, telling me to pray for peace. So I did. I am beginning to doubt that an almighty and merciful God hears our prayers. Or we would not be here, deafened by the big guns, in the stench of corpses.
    July 1st
    Father seemed a little better this morning so I went back up the sap. Bluey and Curly were very pleased because they had received a package from home and they were eating spoonfuls of jam. They only had one spoon so it was passed around. It was apricot jam in a tin. Then a big crump came and Bluey flung himself flat with his hand over the tin. Earth showered all over the trench. When we dug ourselves out, he was still holding the tin and the jam had no dirt in it. Everyone laughed. And went on eating jam. This is a very strange life.
    I am writing this in our little cave and Father has told me to pack up all our goods, we are moving. I have made a bag out of a gas-mask case to put this diary in so I can sling it over my shoulder. This is only a damp dirty niche under a cliff but it feels safe and like home. I wonder where we shall sleep tonight?
    July 2nd
    When I wrote the last entry I had no clue about what Father was planning. He strode off up the sap towards the front lines and I followed him, carrying all our stuff, thinking he was going to preach to the new trenches which have been dug near the top of the ridge. It was hard going and very muddy. But when he came to the front trench he just went on, waving the white bandage square, over into Turkish lines—and I went after him, of course, terrified that some sentry was just going to shoot us. I wanted to drop to my knees and crawl but Father was moving too fast—his legs are longer than mine—so I just ran and stumbled after him. When we got into the Turkish trench Father said ‘Peace’ in several ancient languages and I said in Turkish that they should take us to their commander. So they did that, not unkindly, shoving us through a network of trenches that seemed very badly made and which smelt awful, of dead men and human filth. Just like ours.
    The commander was a German officer. He seemed to be a young man, with short blond hair and blue eyes. He looked very tired. I understand a little German. Father speaks it well.
    The officer looked up and said crossly, ‘ Was wollen Sie? ’
    Father proclaimed, ‘Put on the armour of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil, For we wrestle not against flesh and blood but against principalities, against powers, against the ruler of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.’
    The officer stared and made a movement with his hand, and said, ‘ Dieser Mann ist wahnsinnig ,’ then he said, ‘ ihn erschiessen ,’ which means ‘This man is mad, shoot him’, and I thought we would have to die for peace, so I waited for the shock. But the sentry said in Turkish that this was a holy man and the officer nodded and we were shoved out and marched towards the rear. There are many soldiers and also people who look after or sell things to soldiers