the vineyard

However, we reached the former No Man’s Land between our front lines and the Turks’. To the left of the Krithia road I readily recognised the Vineyard, once a shambles, although previously I had never had anything but a worm’s-eye view of it. High-explosive blasted away every square foot of that tragic acre in the summer of ’15 , yet the vines which have never been cultivated since, were freshly green in the Vineyard at the time of our visit, and, I was told, had borne a crop of grapes for the first time the previous year.

Gallipoli Revisited, (London 1934), W. E. Stanton Hope, p.50