It was not till noon that a lighter came alongside, and, having taken us all aboard, proceeded to make for the beach.  All the while the Turk left us unmolested, causing us to wonder whether he were short of ammunition, or just rudely indifferent to our coming to Suvla or our staying away.  Two shells or three, we thought, would have had their courteous aspect.  But without greeting of any kind from the enemy our lighter rose on the last wave and bumped against the jetty.  We gathered our equipment, and with egotistical thrills stepped upon the Gallipoli Peninsula.  For the first time we stood in Turkey.  We felt in our breasts the pride of the invader.

Monty, as spokesman of our party, led us into the office of the M.L.O., and assured the gentleman that we had come to Suvla to find the East Cheshires.

“The Cheshires aren’t at Suvla,” said the M.L.O., with the acerbity of an overworked staff-officer.  “They never were, and never will be at Suvla.”

“Oh,” answered Monty brightly, seeing a vision of his friend, the M.L.O. of the Aragon, “then they’ll be at Helles.”

The Suvla M.L.O. blasted Monty with a look, and said:  “That’s the remark of a fool.”

“Exactly,” agreed Monty; “it was the remark of an M.L.O.”

And he explained how, all along, he had conjectured that the pleasant creature on the Aragon had blundered in sending us to Suvla.

“Well, why the devil did you come?” inquired the M.L.O.

“Because,” answered Monty, imperturbably, “I wanted to see the world, and Suvla in particular; and I might not have had another opportunity of visiting your delightful bay.”

“You mean to say,” said the M.L.O., with his eyes on the badges of the Army Chaplains’ Department, “that you deliberately traded on a mistake in order to get a holiday trip to Suvla?  And still—­ha—­still you expect us to go to church.”

If he was anxious to discuss the question why men didn’t go to church, nobody was more ready to meet him than Monty, who therewith sat down upon a box, so as comfortably to do justice to a really interesting topic, I admit I felt a sudden horror lest he should hold forth on the Mass and Confession.  I went quite cold with apprehension.  It’s dreadful the embarrassment you elders cause us young people lest you say something completely out of place and impossible.  In very fact, youth is the age of embarrassing adults.

What Monty would have said remains a mystery, for at this moment Major Hardy, who had come in our wake, exploded into the discussion.

“Be damned to you, sir!” he said to the M.L.O., wiping his eyeglass furiously.  “Be damned to you—­what!  I see nothing funny in being sent to the wrong front by a simpering, defective idiot on the Aragon.  Kindly give me a chit to proceed to Helles to-morrow by some bloody trawler, or something.”

“With the utmost pleasure,” said the M.L.O.; “Suvla can well be rid of you.  You can go to Helles, or Hell, by the 6 A.M. boat to-morrow.”