still floating in the water-cart emplacement--the Sikhs having turned
tail when the storm broke. It was six weeks later when we opened our
valises.

We had hoped the relief would have been cancelled, but not so, and at
5 P.M. we started off for the front line. The Turks evidently
anticipated something of the sort, and their rifle fire soon forced us
to take to the communication trenches. North Lane was not too bad.
There was 18 inches of water, but the bottom was gravelly and the
going not too bad. Where this trench struck the old support line we
found guides awaiting us who took us past Willow Tree Well through
the most awful trenches-too narrow for a heavily ladened man, greasy
and slippery, and full of holes which took us up to the waist in
water. Some idea of the going may be gathered from the fact that the
journey of less than two miles took upwards of five hours to
accomplish. And then our troubles weren't over. The firebays we found
crammed with the infantry we were relieving--a helpless, hopeless
mob--and it wasn't till midnight that we had the place to ourselves.

A Squadron (Major de Pree) held from the Azmac Dere to Fort Conan, and
B Squadron (Major J. Younger) from Fort Conan to the old road leading
to Anafarta, C Squadron lying in support. We could only man every
second or third bay lightly, and our left flank was in the air--the
159th Brigade on our left, being about 120 yards away. Lovats were in,
and to the south of, the Dere.

Movement in the trenches to promote circulation was impossible--one
was exhausted long before one felt any life in one's limbs, and to add
to our troubles snow fell during the night, and it turned bitterly
cold. Next day was even more bitterly cold with snow and rain, and a