Now and then Eddie found time, and space, to write a few lines. He and Harry would both have said that nothing much happened during their first few weeks at Anzac Cove, but in the midst of nothing happening, they never felt safe. They were crowded, busy, and completely exposed. It was a world apart from anything they had imagined. When they talked about Gallipoli on the transport, none of them could picture the conditions. The beach at Anzac Cove, described in word and photograph, plastered all over the pages of every Australian newspaper, was a more familiar sight to the average man at home than it was to the reinforcements.
The beachhead was a thin skim of sand between waves and rotting cliffs. Landed men bunched dangerously and had to scatter under any bit of cover offered. Every inch
