Things became jumbled.

The continual working up to the firing-line and the awful labour of
carrying heavy men back to our dressing station: it went on. We got
used to being always tired, and having only an hour or two of sleep.
It was log-heavy, dreamless sleep . . . sheer nothingness. Just as
tired when you were wakened in the early hours by a sleepy, grumbling
guard. And then going round finding the men and wakening them up and
getting them on parade. Every day the same . . . late into the night.

Then came the disappearance of a certain section of our ambulance and
the loss of an officer.

This particular young lieutenant was left on Lemnos sick. He really
was very sick indeed. He recovered to some extent of the fever, and
joined us one day at Suvla. This was in the Old Dry Water-course
period, when Hawk and I lived in the bush-grown ditch.

Officers, N.C.O.'s, and men were tired out with overwork. This young
officer came up to the Kapanja Sirt to take over the next spell of
duty.

I remember him now, pale and sickly, with the fever still hanging on
him, and dark, sunken eyes. He spoke in a dull, lifeless way.

"Do you think you'll be all right?" asked the adjutant.

"Yes, I think so," he answered.