Come friend and swim. We may be better then,
But here the dust blows ever in the eyes
And wrangling round are weary fevered men,
For ever mad with flies.
I cannot sleep, nor even long lie still,
And you have read your April paper twice ;
To-morrow we must stagger up the hill
To man a trench and live among the lice.
You can read the rest of the poem here http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-one/inside-first-world-war/part-five/10542340/war-poetry-ap-herbert.html
‘You should have seen me and A.P. Herbert the other evening bathing in the Dardanelles . . ‘ read the rest on the Gallipoli Association’s website http://www.gallipoli-association.org/on-this-day/may-29