MY father, Captain Francis Daniel Hislop, of the 5th Royal Scots, fought in the Dardanelles campaign – in particular at Gallipoli from 1915-16 – and he told this tale from there, which I don’t think was ever written down.

The Ottomans, from Turkey, were shelling a large beach – land which both sides wanted.

The technique was to drop a shell at regular intervals of time and distance, so that the land could not be used. This was known as denying ground to the enemy. Dad had been observing this for some time.

Above the trench that he was in was a small, modest hut with the essential plank of wood with a ten-inch circular hole cut in it above a corresponding hole in the ground.

Dad had to go and do what we all have to do each day, sitting on that plank.

There he was relieving himself, but continuing to observe the shelling.

The front of the hut had a lower modesty half-door, while the top was open.

He suddenly realised that the next shell was due to land right on the field latrine where he was. He dived out of it, not having completed what he went there to do, and into a trench where he fell right in front of his colonel – trousers still round his ankles!

The colonel said something like “what the hell are you playing at Hislop? This is no time for horseplay, we are under fire here."

Dad, pointing at the latrine, replied “sir, I was just having a..." when at that moment the shell landed and blew the latrine to smithereens.

Had he not made a quick exit...well, shall we just say that today there are 13 of us called Hislop and four more called Spivey, who would not exist had he not got out of that hut in the nick of time.

Doesn't one wonder about health and safety, siting an essential facility in such a vulnerable position?!

Dad lived on until 1966, when he was aged 74 (many of his mates did not. May they rest in peace and rise in glory).

Jens Hislop, Haworth