Aeroplanes and dirigibles were always busy. Destroyers and huge
transports churned up foam, and submarines left their faint trace on the
wide extent of bluest ocean. The scene was one of war in all its
picturesqueness and horror, for one could easily imagine awful scenes
taking place under the far cloud of smoke and dust. It was war in all
its force seen so for the first time.

Today the scene is strangely altered. Nearly all the transports have
gone up the western coast of the peninsula, but a few battleships stand
on sentry-go, as it were. All resistance in the region directly opposite
has been fought down. The smoke coming from over the ridge in front
shows that our warships have advanced far up to Kilid Bahr, while
comparatively few ships stand at the entrance of the strait. From the
inside the Asiatic coast is being bombarded, but the picturesque
features of the scene have gone. It is a change which marks triumphant
progress. The Turk is being slowly but surely pushed back, dying gamely.

Two days of thick mist were followed by a forty-eight hours' armistice
granted to the Turks on Tuesday and Wednesday. It was impossible to see
anything of the operations. Behind the veil of mist the fighting went
sternly on and the big guns boomed incessantly. Wednesday night they
were particularly active. Seldom in the past three weeks has the night
sky been so brilliantly illuminated by the flashes of cannon. Serious
work is evidently being done or completed. It was not until Thursday
afternoon that the weather conditions made it possible to see the result
of the warfare behind the screen of mist, and, as I have said, the whole
aspect of the now familiar scene appears greatly changed when the coast
of the peninsula is deserted by vessels, save for the few transports
standing further out to sea than usual and half a dozen ships of war.