CHAPTER VIIIANZAC

Headquarters Staff: Brigadier, Colonel Granville Ryrie; Brigade Major, Major T. J. Lynch; Staff Captain, Captain R. V. Pollok; Orderly Officer, Lieutenant Oliver Hogue; Field Cashier, Lieutenant B. E. Alderson.5th Light Horse Regiment (Queensland): Lieutenant-Colonel Hubert Harris, V.D., Major L. C. Wilson, Major H. H. Johnson, Major S.Midgley, D.S.O., Captain P. D. Robinson, Captain Donald Cameron, Captain J. C. Ridley, Captain G. P. Donovan, Captain J. E. Dods (Medical Officer), Chaplain Captain Michael Bergin, Lieutenants Pike, Nimmo, Chatham, Wright, Hanley, Fargher, Rutherford, McNeill, Irving, Bolingbroke, McLaughlin, Lyons and Brundrit.6th Light Horse Regiment (New South Wales): Lieutenant-Colonel C. F. Cox, C.B., V.D., Major C. D. Fuller, Major W. T. Charley, Major F. D. Oatley, Major J. F. White, Captain G. C. Somerville, Captain (Medical) A. Verge, Chaplain Captain Robertson, Captain H. A. D. White, Captain M. F. Bruxner, Lieutenants Richardson, Ferguson, Anderson, Huxtable, Cross, Roy Hordern, H. Ryrie, Robson, Cork and Garnock.7th Light Horse Regiment (New South Wales): Lieutenant-Colonel J. M. Arnott, Major G. M. Onslow, Major E. Windeyer, Major T. L. Rutledge, Major H. B. Suttor, Captain (Medical) T. C. C. Evans, Chaplain Captain J. Keith Miller, Captain J. D. Richardson, Lieutenants Board, Elliott, Fulton, Bice, Higgins, Hession, Gilchrist, Stevenson, Maddrell, Bird, Barton and Lake.

5th Light Horse Regiment (Queensland): Lieutenant-Colonel Hubert Harris, V.D., Major L. C. Wilson, Major H. H. Johnson, Major S.Midgley, D.S.O., Captain P. D. Robinson, Captain Donald Cameron, Captain J. C. Ridley, Captain G. P. Donovan, Captain J. E. Dods (Medical Officer), Chaplain Captain Michael Bergin, Lieutenants Pike, Nimmo, Chatham, Wright, Hanley, Fargher, Rutherford, McNeill, Irving, Bolingbroke, McLaughlin, Lyons and Brundrit.

6th Light Horse Regiment (New South Wales): Lieutenant-Colonel C. F. Cox, C.B., V.D., Major C. D. Fuller, Major W. T. Charley, Major F. D. Oatley, Major J. F. White, Captain G. C. Somerville, Captain (Medical) A. Verge, Chaplain Captain Robertson, Captain H. A. D. White, Captain M. F. Bruxner, Lieutenants Richardson, Ferguson, Anderson, Huxtable, Cross, Roy Hordern, H. Ryrie, Robson, Cork and Garnock.

7th Light Horse Regiment (New South Wales): Lieutenant-Colonel J. M. Arnott, Major G. M. Onslow, Major E. Windeyer, Major T. L. Rutledge, Major H. B. Suttor, Captain (Medical) T. C. C. Evans, Chaplain Captain J. Keith Miller, Captain J. D. Richardson, Lieutenants Board, Elliott, Fulton, Bice, Higgins, Hession, Gilchrist, Stevenson, Maddrell, Bird, Barton and Lake.

Brigade Train: Lieutenant R. G. Bosanquet and Lieutenant G. D. Smith.

Field Ambulance: Lieutenant Colonel Bean, Major D. G. Croll, Captains Fraser, McDonnel, Pitcher and Buchanan.

Signal Troop: Captain R. A. Stanley.

Officers_6thLHOfficers of the 6th Australian Light Horse Regiment, 2nd Light Horse Brigade.Left to right.—Standing at back: Lieut. R. N. Richardson, Lieut. J. M. Chisholm, Lieut. D. Drummond, Capt. L. McLaglan, Lieut. G. Ferguson, Lieut. R. Hordern, Lieut. H. S. Ryrie.Sitting: Capt. H. O'Brien, Capt. M. F. Bruxner, Major F. J. White, Major C. D. Fuller, Lt.-Col. C. F. Cox, C.B., V.D., Lieut. M. D. Russell, Capt. A. Verge, R.M.O., Capt. H. A. D. White.In front: Lieut. N. M. Pearce and Lieut. W. M. Anderson.

Officers of the 6th Australian Light Horse Regiment, 2nd Light Horse Brigade.Left to right.—Standing at back: Lieut. R. N. Richardson, Lieut. J. M. Chisholm, Lieut. D. Drummond, Capt. L. McLaglan, Lieut. G. Ferguson, Lieut. R. Hordern, Lieut. H. S. Ryrie.Sitting: Capt. H. O'Brien, Capt. M. F. Bruxner, Major F. J. White, Major C. D. Fuller, Lt.-Col. C. F. Cox, C.B., V.D., Lieut. M. D. Russell, Capt. A. Verge, R.M.O., Capt. H. A. D. White.In front: Lieut. N. M. Pearce and Lieut. W. M. Anderson.

Officers of the 6th Australian Light Horse Regiment, 2nd Light Horse Brigade.

Left to right.—Standing at back: Lieut. R. N. Richardson, Lieut. J. M. Chisholm, Lieut. D. Drummond, Capt. L. McLaglan, Lieut. G. Ferguson, Lieut. R. Hordern, Lieut. H. S. Ryrie.

Sitting: Capt. H. O'Brien, Capt. M. F. Bruxner, Major F. J. White, Major C. D. Fuller, Lt.-Col. C. F. Cox, C.B., V.D., Lieut. M. D. Russell, Capt. A. Verge, R.M.O., Capt. H. A. D. White.

In front: Lieut. N. M. Pearce and Lieut. W. M. Anderson.

The exact strength of the brigade as it entered Turkish waters was 76 officers and 1,455 other ranks. Back at Ma'adi we had left about twenty-five per cent of our men and all our horses. Major Righetti, of the 5th Light Horse Regiment, had been appointed Camp Commandant, and we were hoping that in a couple of weeks at the latest he and his merry men would join us and then, once more mounted, we would canter gaily along the Gallipoli road to Constantinople. We were mostly young and optimistic! We were soon to find what a long, long road it was.

It seemed as if they had made special arrangements for a fine big bombardment just to let the Light Horse see how it was done. As the 2nd Light Horse Brigade arrived off Gallipoli we were eyewitnesses of a spectacular bombardment that thrilled us. It was about seven o'clock on the evening of May 18 that our transport glided in betweenTenedos and Imbros and anchored off Helles. Long before we anchored we could hear the rumbling of heavy artillery, and we knew that the fleet was busy. Soon we saw the intermittent flashes of the guns, and then there loomed up out of the dusk the spectre-like shapes of the allied warships. A long, impregnable-looking line they made, stretching from Kum Kale north and west, and north again, till they were lost to sight in the murky pall which was fast settling down on the Ægean Sea.

All night long the firing continued, but we slept just as soundly as we had done out on the desert at Ma'adi. By sunrise the troopers were astir, crowding the rigging and watching with intense interest the panorama spread before them. As the sun peeped over the hills we could see the tents of the field hospital whitening in the growing light. All around us were warships and transports and colliers and supply ships of all descriptions. Here and there were the low grey hulls of destroyers streaking across the waters. From our warships came a desultory fire on the Turkish trenches.

So intent were we as we watched the campof the Allies that we never noticed that our own vessel had dragged its anchor and was fast bearing down on a French transport a few cable-lengths off. The ships came together with a crunch that startled us. We thought for the moment that we had either been torpedoed or rammed. Then the nose of the Frenchman crunched along our port side, smashing stanchions and gangways, twisting sheet iron into fantastic shapes and breaking horse-boxes into matchwood. The active troopers all sprang free of the danger—all but one, who was so intent on adjusting his puttees that he never noticed what was happening. First thing he knew was when an anchor fluke caught him bending and drove him with the force of a battering ram headlong amongst the pans and dixies. His angry "Imshi yaller" was drowned in the roar of laughter from his comrades.

Just before breakfast an airman went up—up with the lark. He flew up the Dardanelles towards the Narrows, cut across Maidos to the Australian Division, doubled back, then swung round over our heads and turned in and landed. A valuable reconnaissance was made, the reportwas sent to headquarters, and then the airman strolled into breakfast. This man and his aeroplane were a target for Turkish shells and German gunners all the time. Shell after shell burst around him, but he took not the slightest notice—he said afterwards, with a laugh, that they were quite "beneath his notice." At one time we counted eight shell-bursts round about the aeroplane. It seemed to us who watched him that the aviator must have borne a charmed life.

Every time I see an air pilot I feel like saluting him. Colonel Ryrie said that morning, when he saw the spot on which our infantry had landed: "After that, I'll take off my hat to the Australian soldier every time." And that's how I feel about those gallant airmen.

The enemy's gunners were good; there was no doubt of that, even though they failed to "wing" the aeroplane. They next turned their attention and their fire on the British trenches. For a while the shells flew wide. Some fell into the sea; others burst high. Then they got the range, and kept it. To what extent our comrades suffered, or how well they were dug in, we could not see. But the warships soon got to workand silenced the enemy's guns. Then we went in to breakfast.

Just before we disembarked Colonel Ryrie addressed the assembled soldiers. He said his only fear was that they would be too impetuous. Their comrades who had gone before had made history. Their courage and dash and their invincible charge on a well-nigh impregnable position would be a theme for historians throughout the ages. Their only fault was—they were too brave. They were ordered to take one strongly-fortified line of trenches and they actually took three. Concluding, the brigadier said: "If I get back to Australia and some of you fellows don't, I know I shall be able to tell your people that you fought and died like heroes. If you get back and I don't, I hope you will be able to tell my countrymen that Colonel Ryrie played the game."

FIRST WEEK OF TRENCH WORK—OUR NEAR NEIGHBOURS—SNIPING—BOMBS AND AEROPLANES—SIR IAN HAMILTON'S SPECIAL FORCE ORDER—THE "PENINSULA PRESS"—TO BURY THE DEAD TURKS—VENIZELOS—"WHERE STANDS GREECE?"—THE "LUSITANIA" CRIME—SWIMMING IN THE ÆGEAN—THE ROAR OF ARTILLERY—DEATH OF COLONEL BRAUND, M.L.A.

We've had our first week in the trenches. The Turks have killed some of us, and we have killed some of them. They certainly fared the worst; and we agree with the chaplains that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

In some places our trenches are only seven yards from the Turks; in others they are 700. All day and night the sniping continues. Hand grenades and bombs are thrown to and fro. Aeroplanes circle aloft and drop bombs on the opposingtrenches. When our aeroplane goes up the boys yell out: "Lay an egg on the Turkeys!" When the Taube drops bombs we "duck" to shelter. Most of our spare time we spend in dodging shrapnel. It's fine fun, but no one can guess where the splinters will fly to. We've all had the sorrow of seeing old comrades struck down at our sides, and yet we carry on cheerfully.

On Empire Day—five days after we landed—the Turks asked for an armistice to bury their dead. It took eight hours. In front of our trenches were 3,500 dead. We reckon that in the attack on our position on May 18-19 the enemy had at least 10,000 casualties. The Australians lost about 500. Time and again the Turks charged in solid phalanx, but withered away before the deadly fire of our riflemen. Whenever they did effect a breach they were speedily ejected by dashing bayonet attacks by the Australians and New Zealanders.

To-day—May 28—we are all in the highest spirits, for we have received a special "Force Order" from General Sir Ian Hamilton, and it shows that we have not been idle. Here is the order:—

"FORCE ORDER NO. 17."General Headquarters,"May 25, 1915."1. Now that a clear month has passed since the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force began its night and day fighting with the enemy, the General Commanding desires to explain to officers, non-commissioned officers and men the real significance of the calls made upon them to risk their lives, apparently for nothing better than to gain a few yards of uncultivated land."2. A comparatively small body of the finest troops in the world, French and British, have effected a lodgment close to the heart of a great continental empire, still formidable even in its decadence. Here they stand firm, or slowly advance, and in the efforts made by successive Turkish armies to dislodge them the rotten Government at Constantinople is gradually wearing itself out. The facts and figures upon which this conclusion is based have been checked and verified from a variety of sources. Agents of neutral powers possessing good sources of information have placed both the numbers and thelosses of the enemy much higher than they are set forth here, but the General Commanding prefers to be on the safe side and to give his troops a strictly conservative estimate."Before operations began the strength of the defenders of the Dardanelles was:—"Gallipoli Peninsula, 34,000 and about 100 guns."Asiatic side of Straits, 41,000."All the troops on the Gallipoli Peninsula and fifty per cent of the troops on the Asiatic side were Nizam, that is to say, regular first line troops. They were transferable, and were actually transferred to the side upon which the invaders disembarked. Our Expeditionary Force effected its landing, it will be seen, in the face of an enemy superior not only to the covering parties which got ashore the first day, but superior actually to the total strength at our disposal. By May 12 the Turkish army of occupation had been defeated in several engagements, and would have been at the end of their resources had they not meanwhile received reinforcements of 20,000 infantry and twenty-one batteries of Field Artillery."Still the Expeditionary Force held its own, and more than held its own, inflicting fresh bloody defeats upon the new-comers; and again the Turks must certainly have given way had not a second reinforcement reached the Peninsula from Constantinople and Smyrna, amounting at the lowest estimate to 24,000 men."3. From what has been said it will be understood that the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, supported by its gallant comrades of the Fleet, but with constantly diminishing effectives, has held in check or wrested ground from some 120,000 Turkish troops elaborately entrenched and supported by a powerful artillery."The enemy has now few more Nizam troops at his disposal and not many Redif or second-class troops. Up to date his casualties are 55,000, and again, in giving this figure, the General Commanding has preferred to err on the side of low estimates."Daily we make progress, and whenever the reinforcements close at hand begin to put in an appearance, the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force will press forward with a fresh impulse toaccomplish the greatest Imperial task ever entrusted to an army."W. P. BRAITHWAITE, Major-General,"Chief of General Staff,"Mediterranean Expeditionary Force."

"FORCE ORDER NO. 17."General Headquarters,"May 25, 1915.

"1. Now that a clear month has passed since the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force began its night and day fighting with the enemy, the General Commanding desires to explain to officers, non-commissioned officers and men the real significance of the calls made upon them to risk their lives, apparently for nothing better than to gain a few yards of uncultivated land.

"2. A comparatively small body of the finest troops in the world, French and British, have effected a lodgment close to the heart of a great continental empire, still formidable even in its decadence. Here they stand firm, or slowly advance, and in the efforts made by successive Turkish armies to dislodge them the rotten Government at Constantinople is gradually wearing itself out. The facts and figures upon which this conclusion is based have been checked and verified from a variety of sources. Agents of neutral powers possessing good sources of information have placed both the numbers and thelosses of the enemy much higher than they are set forth here, but the General Commanding prefers to be on the safe side and to give his troops a strictly conservative estimate.

"Before operations began the strength of the defenders of the Dardanelles was:—

"Gallipoli Peninsula, 34,000 and about 100 guns.

"Asiatic side of Straits, 41,000.

"All the troops on the Gallipoli Peninsula and fifty per cent of the troops on the Asiatic side were Nizam, that is to say, regular first line troops. They were transferable, and were actually transferred to the side upon which the invaders disembarked. Our Expeditionary Force effected its landing, it will be seen, in the face of an enemy superior not only to the covering parties which got ashore the first day, but superior actually to the total strength at our disposal. By May 12 the Turkish army of occupation had been defeated in several engagements, and would have been at the end of their resources had they not meanwhile received reinforcements of 20,000 infantry and twenty-one batteries of Field Artillery.

"Still the Expeditionary Force held its own, and more than held its own, inflicting fresh bloody defeats upon the new-comers; and again the Turks must certainly have given way had not a second reinforcement reached the Peninsula from Constantinople and Smyrna, amounting at the lowest estimate to 24,000 men.

"3. From what has been said it will be understood that the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, supported by its gallant comrades of the Fleet, but with constantly diminishing effectives, has held in check or wrested ground from some 120,000 Turkish troops elaborately entrenched and supported by a powerful artillery.

"The enemy has now few more Nizam troops at his disposal and not many Redif or second-class troops. Up to date his casualties are 55,000, and again, in giving this figure, the General Commanding has preferred to err on the side of low estimates.

"Daily we make progress, and whenever the reinforcements close at hand begin to put in an appearance, the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force will press forward with a fresh impulse toaccomplish the greatest Imperial task ever entrusted to an army.

"W. P. BRAITHWAITE, Major-General,"Chief of General Staff,"Mediterranean Expeditionary Force."

And I have by me a copy of the little one-pagePeninsula Presspublished at Sir Ian Hamilton's headquarters some distance from Anzac. It is No. 13, and is dated May 25, 1915; and it gives this "Official Account" of the enemy's losses:—"The burial of the dead on the Australian and New Zealand front was completed yesterday under the armistice asked for by the Turks. The number of the enemy's dead lying between the trenches was estimated at 3,500, counting only those who have fallen since May 18. Rifle fire broke out soon after the close of the armistice."

ThatPeninsula Press, little thing though it was, used to be read and re-read till we could almost repeat all its contents word for word. It gave us the war news on all fronts in a nutshell. In this particular number we read of the great Russian victory in East Galicia, when the Austrianswere pushed back from the Dniester to the Pruth, and on a 100-mile battle-front the Russians took 20,000 prisoners in five days. We read of von Bethmann-Hollweg's threat to Italy—his threat to punish Germany's "faithless ally" who had seen fit to throw over the Powers of Darkness for those of Light and Freedom and Civilization. We read of the German losses between Steenstraete and Ypres, despite their use of asphyxiating gas which their enlightened scientists had been able to place at their disposal. We read this: "The British Navy has rescued 1,282 German seamen and marines from German warships sunk. Not one British seaman or marine has been saved by Germans in like circumstances." We read an extract from the Greek newspaperAthinairelating to the elections in that country: "If the people give the victory to the party of M. Venizelos, then the Entente Powers will have no further anxiety concerning us; Greece will be ready for war in accordance with the programme of M. Venizelos and with the engagements he has assumed." (And the people did give the victory to M. Venizelos—but Greece, oh, where was she?) And thisalso we read in our paper: "The people of Gallipoli Town," says a Turkish correspondent, "have seen only four British (Australian) prisoners of war. The men excited great admiration among the people, because it was seen that they were indeed soldiers. They wandered about freely and drank coffee, creating great excitement by their queer remarks and causing no ill-feeling." And theLusitania! We read the lines fromPunchof May 12—Britain to America, on the sinking of theLusitania:

In silence you have looked on felon blows,On butcher's work of which the waste lands reek;Now, in God's name, from Whom your greatness flows,Sister, will you not speak?

We ourselves had seen a ship go down. We saw theTriumphtorpedoed. We saw her shiver from stem to stern—and then go down in the sea. She was a triumph of man's handiwork, and man's handiwork had destroyed her. The sea was very calm, but submarines and mines lurk in still waters as well as rough—and out of the calm sea came the thing of death. From the moment she was struck till she turned turtle but fourteen minutes elapsed. A dozen launchesand torpedo boats rushed to rescue the crew, and all were saved except about forty. And we who saw it all from the trenches looked on at it stupefied. With a mighty lurch—as it were a giant in the agonies of death—theTriumphheeled over and was gone.

Such things are done, and will be done, as long as there are Hymns of Hate in the world. War is a gruesome business.

Just as I walked out of my dug-out this morning two men were shot by a machine-gun not ten yards off—one in the shoulder and the other in the eye. Two seconds ago a big shrapnel shell burst right in front of our dug-out. The bullets flew everywhere, and we bolted to shelter. No one was injured. It is marvellous. Up to the present it has been the most wonderful week in my life—full of excitement and hair-breadth escapes.

Sunday came—May 30. The day dawned peacefully, minus the artillery duel which ordinarily heralds the coming day. The blue Mediterranean lay like a sea of glass at our feet. Imbros Island, opposite Anzac Cove, lay wreathed in the morning mists. Torpedo boats glided to and froacross the waters, lest some adventurous submarine should attack. All was peaceful. Ashore, the wild flowers blossomed on the hillsides. Birds chirruped contentedly in the scrub. Soldiers released from a night's vigil in the trenches sauntered along the winding road to the beach, dived in and sported freely in the sea. The transport mules munched contentedly, and the Indians lay back smoking hubble-bubbles. Light Horsemen (minus their horses) and infantrymen emerged from their dug-outs and stretched themselves lazily in the sun.

It was too good to last—too good altogether. Some activity behind the Turkish trenches attracted the attention of our artillery observation officers, and our guns boomed out a warning. It was evidently disregarded by the enemy, for more of our guns opened fire. Then the Turks replied. The hills around spat fire, and the valleys echoed and re-echoed with peals of thunder. Shrapnel shells and "Jack Johnsons" went screaming overhead, to burst with a deafening report over our trenches and bivouacs. Our guns were so cunningly concealed that the German artillery officers could not locate them, and for the mostpart their shells ploughed up the unoffending earth, or made harmless rents in the atmosphere. Our artillery had better success. Our guns tore down the Turkish trenches, and the Turks flying to shelter were met with a devastating fire from our machine-guns. Still, we did not have it all our own way. Now and then a shell landed in our trenches, and the story of it was told in the casualty lists.

About one o'clock the artillery duel began, and it continued without cessation for over an hour. The roar was awful. Bullets spattered everywhere. The marvel was that our losses were so few. Gradually the big guns grew silent. Our warships aimed a few salvos on to the enemy's position, then drew off. Soon there was comparative calm. There remained but the interminable fusillade of musketry which never wholly ceased on the trenches round Anzac.

At eventide the Ægean Sea took on new colourings. The sun set in a blaze of splendour; the whole western horizon was alight with its reflected brilliance. The islands seemed to rest against a superb canvas on which Nature had splashed lavishly a wealth of gold and rose-redand saffron and purple and amethyst. The sea in turn mirrored and accentuated the beauties of the scene. The angry armies gazed in quiet contemplation of Nature's craftsmanship, forgetting their mutual hate.

Up on Braund's Hill—where Colonel Braund, who used to sit for Armidale in the New South Wales Parliament, had met with a tragic fate soon after the historic landing was made—right at the entrance to the trenches in the firing-line, Divine Service was being held. In the days of my wanderings I have attended many church services, in shearing-sheds and on mining fields, on board troopships, and in the bush; but never had I attended such a service as this. Captain McKenzie, of the 1st Infantry Brigade, and Captain Robertson, of the 2nd Light Horse, were the officiating chaplains. Soldiers, unkempt, unshaven, unwashed, lolled around on the path or the hillside. Men coming from the trenches joined in the singing. Men going to the trenches for the night lingered awhile. And they sang the old well-known hymns. None asked for "Onward, Christian Soldiers," or any of the warlike hymns at all. They wanted the oldgospel hymns. So we sang, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," "Sweet Hour of Prayer," and "Abide with Me." ...

Firing had recommenced before we finished the service, and the chaplain's voice was now and then drowned in the rattle of musketry or the bursting of shrapnel. And because of the shells and bombs which continually burst overhead, we meant it when we sang "Cover my defenceless head with the shadow of Thy wing."

A few words of prayer, a few words of exhortation and commendation, and then the service was over. Some filed off to the trenches for the vigil of the night. Others formed up for the reserves. The rest of us returned to our dug-outs, to snuggle in while the roar of battle raged overhead. And one soon gets used to the battle noises. I fell asleep thinking of dear old New South Wales, my dear old home, and—my dear old mother.

"CANARIES"—THE SAVING GRACE—THE LOST HORSE BRIGADE—A FORGOTTEN COUNTER-SIGN—"LET'S AT 'EM"—POLITE TURK AND SULKY GERMAN—MURPHY'S MULES—MURPHY AT THE GATE

Life in the trenches became quite bearable—after a time. But it took time. At first when a bullet skimmed the parapet and went whistling overhead we ducked instinctively. But the experienced infantry laughed, and said, "They're only 'canaries'." Again, when the shrapnel came hurtling aloft and burst with an ugly roar, we crouched and waited for death; but the old hands explained that if we could hear it burst we were pretty safe. It was the shells we couldn't hear that we ought to dodge. We understood that epigrammatic utterance better later on.

But one thing is absolutely essential for a philosophic enjoyment of trench life—and that is a sense of humour. Failing that, most of the soldierswould in the end go stark, staring mad. It is this saving grace which makes our Australians such a wonderful fighting force. They go laughing into the firing-line. They come laughing out again. They laugh as they load and fire. Nearly every wounded man I've seen laughs. A staff officer said the other day: "It's only when they're killed that these Australians cease laughing."

Our three Australian Light Horse brigades have now been in the trenches for some time. "We came to Egypt as horsemen," said a Hunter River man; "then we did foot-slogging at Cairo and Alexandria, and now we're living in caves and tunnels, like rabbits or troglodytes."

Since the days of Darwin quite a lot has been written about evolution. But we never thought of evolution in connexion with our Light Horse Brigade. We soon found that we couldn't escape the process any more than the rest of the universe.

One would have thought that as new and awful weapons of destruction were evolved, battles would become short, sharp, and decisive. Instead of that, they are toilsome, long-drawn-out, and indecisive. I cannot say why. The elucidation of the problem I leave to the "experts."All I am concerned with is the story of how the 2nd Light Horse Brigade became the Lost Horse Brigade. Australia sent four Light Horse brigades to uphold the honour of the Commonwealth; first, Colonel Chauvel; second, Colonel Ryrie; third, Colonel Hughes; fourth, Colonel Brown. At first we thought we were going to be armed with swords as well as rifles. When first mounted, despite our sombre khaki, we felt as proud as Life Guardsmen. And we saw visions and dreamed dreams, and pictured the Australian Light Horse on the left wing of the Empire army driving the Huns in confusion over the Rhine and back to Berlin.

Hope on, hope ever. All we have done so far is, by process of devolution, to change from prospective cavalry to mounted infantry, to foot-sloggers, to pick and shovel artists, and finally to troglodytes. The pen is mightier than the sword—but so is the spade.

We did not like the packs at first. Our horses used to carry our kits, and it was rather irksome to be transformed suddenly into beasts of burden. Also, we imbibed a new respect for the infantry, who seemed to carry their heavy packs with consummateease. Ours at first felt like the Burden to Christian. But gradually we, too, developed the necessary back and shoulder muscles for the infantryman's job. We trudged up and down the hills of Anzac; we filed into the trenches and took our stations at the loopholes; on the day of the armistice we helped to bury the dead Turks whom Enver Pasha had ordered to drive the Australians into the sea. Then it was that the infantry, seeing "2 L.H.B." on our shoulder straps, called us the 2ndLostHorse Brigade.

But we didn't mind losing our horses so long as we had a finger in the Gallipoli Pie. Trench warfare suited us well enough. The firing-line was always interesting. Everybody was light-hearted. Jokes and laughter passed the time pleasantly when we were not sniping or observing. It meant a little more work when the Turkish (or German) guns smashed in our parapets and half-choked, half-blinded and half-buried us. Now and then some of our chaps stopped a bullet or a bit of shrapnel. But we dealt out more than we got. Every day the Officer Commanding and the Brigadier made a tour of the firing-line, while we often had three generals to see us on special days.The day after the big attack General Birdwood asked one of the 1st Light Horse Regiment if he had killed many Turks, and he answered, "Yes, miles of the cows."

As a matter of fact the Australians were almost quarrelling for positions in the firing-line that night. When the fight was at its hottest, men in the supports were offering bribes of tobacco and cigarettes to the men in the firing-line to swap places with them just for ten minutes. Our night patrols had great fun harassing the enemy; but for the bulk of us it got monotonous. It was nothing but dig new saps, new tunnels, new trenches, day after day and night after night.

The 6th Light Horse Regiment changed its badge and its motto. When we left Sydney we had beautiful badges with a fighting cock and the motto "Fight on, fight ever." We've got a new badge now—pick and shovel, argent, crossed on an azure shield, and our new motto is "Dig on, dig ever."

The 7th Light Horse Regiment also changed its motto, which used to be "Patria te Salutamus." Now the troopers sport a shield with a picture of a rabbit, and ColonelArnott's new motto is "Infra dig. Tunnelabit."

The A.L.H. did their share of the trench fighting quite as well as their infantry comrades. Day after day they took their posts as observers or snipers. Night after night they manned the loopholes or did patrol work or sapping. When off duty they bolted to Anzac Cove, and all the shrapnel shells in the world didn't keep them out of the water.

The truth is, a lot of our soldiers grew to be rank fatalists. "If I'm to be killed, I'll be killed," they said. On the night of the big attack the men in the supports were begging the men in the first line to give them a chance: "Come on down, and let's at 'em; I'm a better shot than you." With men clamouring for positions in the firing-line, no wonder the Turks had 10,000 casualties. When it came to the armistice to bury their dead, a soldier exclaimed, "I don't mind killing, but I bar burying the cows!"

The Turks made the same mistake about the Australians that the Yorkshiremen made about the Australian cricketers. They thought we were all black. (The Germans knew better, but encouraged the false idea.) In a Gallipoli paperwe were referred to as Australian blacks, with the comment that this was "the first time cannibals had landed on Gallipoli." But after the wild bayonet charges our men made at Anzac they called the Australians "the White Gurkhas." Later on when our first few prisoners were taken to Gallipoli, the Turks admired their physique, and exclaimed: "These are indeed soldiers."

"Our army swore terribly in Flanders," it is written. I'm afraid that our historian will say the same of the army in Gallipoli. But this is about their only vice, and they have all the soldierly virtues that a general could desire. When the Turks made their big attack, and advanced yelling "Allah, Allah!" "Mohammed!" "Allah!" one of our devil-may-care infantrymen yelled as he fired: "Yes; you can bring them along too!"

Then there was the Turk who bowed. It was when the burial parties met between the trenches to bury the dead. The Turkish officers were polite and the Germans surly. A Turk picked up a bomb and started to run back to his trenches. A Turkish officer ran after him, kicked him, and returned the bomb with a bow to one of ourofficers, thus observing chivalrously the letter and spirit of the armistice. A Turkish soldier came up to one of our men and volunteered the information: "English good—German no good." It wasn't much, but it told a lot.

A number of prisoners were taken, and several more surrendered. But the Turks were between the devil and the deep sea. If they came with their rifles towards our trenches we shot them. If they came without them, their own soldiers shot them. So they had to sneak in as best they could, and risk being shot front and rear.

One of the finest things done in those first fatal days at Anzac must be put to the credit of Murphy's mules. Murphy's ambulance was looked for as anxiously as Gunga Din. It was "Murphy! Murphy! Murphy! an' we'll thank you for your mules!" As a matter of fact "Murphy" was a Scotsman, though he hailed from South Shields, County Durham. His real name was, I believe, John Simpson Kirkpatrick; some say it was Latimer, and others that it was Simpson; and he was a stretcher-bearer. He used to hurry up with water to the firing-line, and carry back the wounded. It was a terribly heavypull up and down Shrapnel Gully, from the cove to the top of Braund's Hill, so Murphy "pinched" a couple of mules, and did yeoman service. He used to leave the mules just under the brow of the hill and dash forward himself to the firing-line to save the wounded. "Murphy's" voice near them sounded like a voice from heaven. Time after time he climbed the hill and did his noble work. Day after day he smiled and carried on. The mules were missed, and they found out who stole them. But they also found out what splendid work "Murphy" was doing; so the officers connived at the theft. They became accessories after the fact.

Murphys MulesMurphy's Mules at Anzac."Murphy" on the left, his mate on the right, and little "Shrapnel" in the background.

There came a day when "Murphy's mules" came not. Stretcher-bearers were working overtime, and the wounded cried "For God's sake, send 'Murphy's mules'!" Later on they found the mules grazing contentedly in Shrapnel Valley. Then they found poor "Murphy".... He had done his last journey to the top of the hill.

"Where's Murphy?" demanded one of the 1st Battalion.

"Murphy's at heaven's gate," answered the sergeant, "helping the soldiers through."

THE TWELFTH OF JULY—AN AFFAIR OF CONSEQUENCE—A TURKISH DRIVE—ACCURATE ENEMY FIRE—"COME AND SURRENDER"—RAPID ENEMY MOVEMENT—OUR PURPOSE ACHIEVED—A WONDERFUL PROCLAMATION, MADE IN GERMANY

We had scores of little affairs of outposts, and our patrols enjoyed some fine skirmishes and night encounters. None of them, however, quite deserved mention in the official chronicle. But the affair ofJuly 12—of "glorious and immortal memory"—was more important.

It began and coincided with an advance down south at Helles. The plan of operations there was to seize the right and right-centre sections of the foremost system of Turkish trenches, from the spot where the Kereves Dere meets the sea to the main Seddel-Bahr—Krithia Road, a frontof about 2,500 yards. The object was to complete the driving back of the Turks to their second system.

It was a double-barrelled attack, and was opened after the shore batteries and the ships' guns had completed the preliminary bombardment. The first phase was an assault by the French and our 155th Brigade, who captured the enemy's trenches after a splendid charge. But they had to fight like grim death to withstand the fierce counter-attacks which were made from the maze of Turkish trenches in the vicinity. This done, the second phase was entered upon by the 157th Brigade. They, too, after fierce fighting, gained their objective, with the help of the Royal Naval Division. Meanwhile the French pushed their extreme right on to the mouth of the Kereves Dere, where it runs into the sea. The whole position was maintained, despite the persistent counter-attacks of the Turk.

So much for the southern—and main—operation. Our rôle up north at Anzac was so to harass the enemy that he would expect a big attack, and so be unable to reinforce his comrades down south. The Australian and NewZealand Army Corps early in the morning engaged the enemy, and after our artillery had opened the ball, the 2nd Light Horse Brigade advanced from the new position it had taken up at Ryrie's Post towards the Turkish trenches. The 6th Light Horse (Colonel Cox) and the 7th Light Horse (Colonel Arnott) sent a squadron over their trenches. The troopers jumped on to the parapet with a cheer, and swarmed down the hill to the comparative safety of the valley below. By a stroke of luck not one man was hit in this charge, though they encountered a hail of bullets. The Turks were too surprised to shoot straight. Later on the enemy's shrapnel did much execution, but the only casualty in this initial manœuvre was when a trooper of the Sixth tripped over some of our own barbed wire and rolled, kicking and swearing, down the hill, to the huge delight of his comrades.

Pushing out over Holly Spur, towards Pine Ridge, the Light Horse advance, under Lieutenant Ferguson, drove the enemy's patrols back and opened a hot fire on their trenches. Meanwhile, to stimulate a general attack, the parties were sent forward in full view of the enemy, and withdrawnunder cover to their original position. Long lines of bayonets were seen passing along our trenches and disappearing at the communication tunnels, thus lending additional colour to the idea of a general attack. Further demonstrations by the 5th Light Horse (Lieutenant-Colonel Harris) on the right wing provoked a wild fusillade from the enemy, who promptly reinforced his position all along the line, and the fusillade became general.

Most noticeable was the rapidity with which the Turkish—or German—artillery came into action. Within three minutes of the commencement of operations the Turkish shells were falling thick and fast on Holly Ridge. They had the range to a nicety, and it was a miracle how any of our advance parties escaped annihilation. As it was, we had five killed and fourteen wounded. It is estimated that the Turks fired two hundred rounds of shrapnel on the Light Horse position in one hundred minutes. Our artillery was by no means idle. Colonel Rosenthal concentrated a devastating fire on to the enemy's trenches and gun emplacements. Our howitzers landed high explosives amongst the enemy's reserves, whilethe enemy's guns battered our trenches. The roar of the cannonade was terrific.

We did not know exactly how fared the infantry on our left, or the New Zealanders further north. But we did know, by the rapid reinforcement of the enemy's position, that our demonstration had achieved its purpose.

One would like to mention all the acts of gallantry which were done on this occasion. But no one saw them all. I was so busy dodging shrapnel shells that I saw only a few. Anyhow, our chaps did not come with a view to getting medals. Other gallant soldiers of the Seventh and Sixth and Fifth will never get mentioned in dispatches.

After eight weeks on the inhospitable shores of Gallipoli, the Turks at last took pity on the Australians. They promised us excellent treatment and ample provisions. All we had to do was to "Come and surrender."

This cheery invitation was scattered broadcast over the Gallipoli Peninsula by a German aeroplane. But the pilot was such a poor shot that not one of the messages fell in the league-long trenches of the Australians and New Zealanders. The wind wafted them all across intothe Turkish lines. But our friends next door (they are only ten feet away in one place) wrote nasty messages on the papers and threw them back into our lines.

It was a most interesting document, the one we received. It informed us that the British Navy had abandoned us to our fate. Unfortunately for the Turks, half a dozen warships and a flotilla of submarines were at that moment thundering away at the Turkish batteries. Another bit of news to the Australians was that "Greedy England made us fight under a contract." Anyway, as we had not completed the contract we did not like the idea of quitting the job.

However, here is the grandiloquent German-made proclamation:—

"Proclamation to the Anglo-French Expeditionary Forces."Protected by a heavy fire of a powerful fleet, you have been able to land on the Gallipoli Peninsula on and since April 25."Backed up by those same men-of-war, you could establish yourself at two pointsof the peninsula. All your endeavours to advance into the inner parts of the peninsula have come to failure under your heavy losses, although your ships have done their utmost to assist you by a tremendous cannonade, implying enormous waste of ammunition. Two fine British battleships,TriumphandMajestic, have been sunk before your own eyes by submarine boats, all protective means against them being found utterly insufficient. Since those severe losses to the British Navy, men-of-war had to take refuge, and have abandoned you to your own fate."Your ships cannot possibly be of any help to you in future, since a great number of submarines are prepared to suppress them. Your forces have to rely on sea transport for reinforcements and supply of food, water, and every kind of war material. Already the submarines have sunk several steamers carrying supplies for your destination. Soon all supplies will be entirely cut off from your landed forces."You are exposed to certain perdition by starvation and thirst. You could only escapeuseless sacrifice of life by surrendering. We are assured you have not taken up arms against us by hatred. Greedy England has made you fight under a contract. You may confide in us for excellent treatment. Our country disposes of ample provisions. There is enough to feed you well and make you feel quite at your comfort. Don't further hesitate. Come and surrender."On all other fronts of this war, your own people and your allies, the situation is as hopeless as on this peninsula. All news spread amongst you concerning the German and Austrian armies are mere lies. There stands neither one Englishman, nor one Frenchman, nor one Italian on German soil. On the contrary the German troops are keeping a strong hold on the whole of Belgium and on conspicuous parts of France since many a month. A considerable part of Russian Poland is also in the hands of the Germans, who advance there every day. Early in May, strong German and Austrian forces have broken through the Russian centre in Galicia. Przemysl has fallen back intotheir hands lately. They are not in the least way handicapped by Italy's joining your coalition, but are successfully engaged in driving the Russians out of Galicia. These Russian troops, whose co-operation one moment you look forward to, are surrendering by hundreds and thousands. Do as they do. Your honour is safe. Further fighting is mere stupid bloodshed."

"Proclamation to the Anglo-French Expeditionary Forces.

"Protected by a heavy fire of a powerful fleet, you have been able to land on the Gallipoli Peninsula on and since April 25.

"Backed up by those same men-of-war, you could establish yourself at two pointsof the peninsula. All your endeavours to advance into the inner parts of the peninsula have come to failure under your heavy losses, although your ships have done their utmost to assist you by a tremendous cannonade, implying enormous waste of ammunition. Two fine British battleships,TriumphandMajestic, have been sunk before your own eyes by submarine boats, all protective means against them being found utterly insufficient. Since those severe losses to the British Navy, men-of-war had to take refuge, and have abandoned you to your own fate.

"Your ships cannot possibly be of any help to you in future, since a great number of submarines are prepared to suppress them. Your forces have to rely on sea transport for reinforcements and supply of food, water, and every kind of war material. Already the submarines have sunk several steamers carrying supplies for your destination. Soon all supplies will be entirely cut off from your landed forces.

"You are exposed to certain perdition by starvation and thirst. You could only escapeuseless sacrifice of life by surrendering. We are assured you have not taken up arms against us by hatred. Greedy England has made you fight under a contract. You may confide in us for excellent treatment. Our country disposes of ample provisions. There is enough to feed you well and make you feel quite at your comfort. Don't further hesitate. Come and surrender.

"On all other fronts of this war, your own people and your allies, the situation is as hopeless as on this peninsula. All news spread amongst you concerning the German and Austrian armies are mere lies. There stands neither one Englishman, nor one Frenchman, nor one Italian on German soil. On the contrary the German troops are keeping a strong hold on the whole of Belgium and on conspicuous parts of France since many a month. A considerable part of Russian Poland is also in the hands of the Germans, who advance there every day. Early in May, strong German and Austrian forces have broken through the Russian centre in Galicia. Przemysl has fallen back intotheir hands lately. They are not in the least way handicapped by Italy's joining your coalition, but are successfully engaged in driving the Russians out of Galicia. These Russian troops, whose co-operation one moment you look forward to, are surrendering by hundreds and thousands. Do as they do. Your honour is safe. Further fighting is mere stupid bloodshed."

Lovers of peace will regret to learn that the hard-headed and ferocious Australians rejected this kind invitation, and persisted in "stupid bloodshed." Incidentally, it might be mentioned, most of the blood shed was Turkish.

One other literary effort from our friend the enemy reached us about the same time. It was issued by the Director of the Military Museum at Constantinople, and was to the following effect:—

"The public are hereby informed that the 700 British mitrailleuses and 300 French cannon captured during the battle of Ari-Bournu at Gallipoli by our heroic troops, inthe course of bayonet charges in which they drove into the sea and drowned more than twenty thousand of the enemy, will be on exhibit in the foreign gallery of the Museum immediately after the cessation of hostilities."

This startling item of information was so unexpected that it made us all long to get to Constantinople to see the trophies of Turkish prowess. It was solely with this object in view that we began making fresh preparations for a special trip to that city beautiful.

AT ANZAC LANDING—SHRAPNEL VALLEY—THOSE WEIRD NAMES—MULES AND DONKEYS—SPLENDOURS OF AN ANZAC NIGHT—OUR GREAT GUNS AND OUR GUNNERS—VISIONS OF HUNTER RIVER AND WILLIAMS RIVER SCENES.

Vignettes of battle!

These are the kaleidoscopic pictures that remain mirrored in the memory. I have forgotten what the transports looked like when we reached Gallipoli. I only half remember the panorama of battle when we first tackled the Turk. Yet there is no forgetting these little snapshots of soldiering, the vivid vignettes which stand out in clear-cut silhouette against the background of our experiences. Somehow they seem more like tableaux vivants than a moving picture show. Certainly the impression is not blurred by action, so the mind, like a camera plate,retains the scene down to the minutest details. Perhaps, when we think of the big things that our lads have done, these little visions may seem hardly worth chronicling. But the Censor will not let me take photographs, and after all it might interest the old folks at home to scan these hurried lines and construct their own mental pictures of the rugged and inhospitable Gallipoli Peninsula where so many young Australians have fought and died for empire.

First, the Cove! It was in Anzac Cove we first landed. In spite of the shrapnel shells which burst on the beach or plunged into the sea, we could take stock of the whole scene before us—afloat and ashore. Straight ahead the hills rose almost from the water's edge to a height of 400 feet. To right and left were the army stores: little mountains of bully beef and biscuits. Scores of soldiers moved hither and thither on fatigue duty, giving Anzac the appearance of a thriving port. At least five hundred men were swimming in the Cove entirely indifferent to the enemy's shells. Under the sheltering shadow of the hill was the field ambulance—doctors working overtime, orderlies running here and there,stretcher-bearers coming and going with their burdens of wounded and dead; seaward, transports lolled lazily on the placid bosom of the Mediterranean; torpedo boats streaked about looking for submarines; warships wreathed in battle-smoke belched broadsides; aloft, a circling aeroplane.

... There are weird names on Anzac. Hell Spit, Shell Green, Casualty Corner, Valley of Despair, The Bloody Angle, Dead Man's Hill, Sniper's Nest, and Cooee Gully. Every name conjures up memories. At the Bloody Angle Turks and Australians were at death-grips, day after day, and week after week, with the trenches only a few yards apart. It was back through the death-strewn Valley of Despair that the Australian infantry withdrew after their first glorious charge inland. On Dead Man's Hill the Turks lay slaughtered in hundreds after their fierce attack on May 19.

And we all know Shrapnel Valley. Here the Light Horse lay all through the night of the 20th, learning what shell-fire really meant. Since the first landing on April 25 the Turks must have landed tons and tons of lead and iron in ShrapnelValley, but we soon knew the safety spots and the danger zones. The tortuous, waterless creek bed wound its aimless way to the sea; steep hills, scrub-faced, rose on either side; wild flowers, pink and white and lilac and yellow and blue, graced the uplands where we first landed; but they were all gone now. On the crest of the hill, sharply silhouetted against the skyline, were our trenches, so manned that the devils of hell could not break through, let alone the turbaned and malignant Turk. On the ledges behind—rather ragged and unkempt now—lounged the reserves, ready in case of attack, but knowing well that their comrades in front could easily hold the line. MacLaurin's Hill is at the top. A little further down projects Braund's Hill. Little graves dot the hillside; little wooden crosses mark the graves.

... And then the Mules! Just mules and donkeys; but they play no unimportant part in the war game at Anzac. They too, with their Indian attendants, landed at Anzac with only the Turkish guns to voice a welcome. They too sheltered in dug-outs when the artillery duel waxed warm. But day after day, and night afternight, they toiled for the transport. Water and ammunition and stores of all kinds had to be carried from the depots to the firing-line, and the bulk of the burden fell on the mules. Along the meandering paths they filed, scrambling up the stiff pinches, resting awhile on the crests. Now and then a shell would slaughter a few. Anon, snipers' bullets would take toll. But the imperturbable Indian would just carry on. We had two little donkeys in Shell Green. They divided their time between the 2nd Light Horse Brigade and the 3rd Infantry Brigade, and the boys gave them biscuits. Morning and evening the Turks shelled our lines, and Shell Green was plastered with pellets and splinters. Yet by some miraculous chance the donkeys escaped harm. Men were struck down on either side, but for a couple of months the lucky animals escaped scatheless. The soldiers swore by the donkeys' luck, and when the shells burst stood by the animals rather than fly for shelter. At last the luck turned. A high explosive burst over thirty men, scattered everywhere, wounded both donkeys, and never touched a single man. We buried one of the donkeys next day. The other,wounded and lonely, wandered about disconsolate.

... Night at Anzac! The sun, a sphere of flaming red, sank into the sea. The western horizon glowed rich and splendid, while the waters of the Archipelago shimmered like molten gold. Imbros and Samothrace stood out in bold relief on the crimson skyline, while the coast of distant Bulgaria softened till lost in a purple haze. Down south spurts of fire and booming thunder told of the British warships still hammering away at the forts of the Dardanelles. Slowly, there was unfolded for the millionth time the miracle of nature's transformation scene. Like a white-hot furnace cooling, the blazing west turned to rose-red and amethyst, lilac and purple. Faithful as an echo, the mirroring sea reflected the softened shades of the sky, and the chastened waters grew mystic and wonderful in the afterglow. As the deepening twilight mantled the Ægean Sea, twinkling lights appeared on land and water, while one by one the little stars joined the crescent moon for company. All blurred and indistinct were the hills and hollows, and during a brief respite from the never-ending fusillade we forgot the war. But just behind wasthe long line of Australian bayonets pointing towards Constantinople.

... The Guns! Thick-lipped and cold, cruel and menacing, were the Guns of Anzac. Death-dealing monsters were they, heartless and vindictive, but, oh, how we soldiers loved them! For they were our very best friends; field guns, mountain guns and howitzers. We knew when the German and Turkish artillerymen started their snarling hymn of hate that our gunners would soon be barking defiance. Enemy shells might roar and thunder, and shrapnel claim its victims; high explosives might wreck parapets and trenches, but we knew our guns and our gunners, and that was enough. We lay low while the artillery duel raged overhead and the echoing hills reverberated with the thunderous roar of battle. So cunningly concealed were our guns, with such acumen were our emplacements selected and built that Tommy Turk had continually to be guessing. His shells searched the hills and the valleys in vain. His gunners too were skilful and brave. They took position in gullies, behind hills and in villages, and blazed away at our lines. But our aeroplanes circledoverhead to spot them. Then our guns got busy and fired like fury till the Hun cried "Hold!"

Then when our spell in the trenches was over, and we sought the seclusion of our dug-outs, there came visions that are not vignettes of war. I saw the old homestead in the Hunter Valley. Hard by Erringhi it stands, where the Williams River meanders through the encircling hills and flows on towards Coalopolis. There are roses 'neath the old-fashioned windows, and in the fields the scent of lucerne ripe for the scythe. Magpies yodel in the big trees, and the wattle-gold is showing down the river. I wonder will I ever see dear old Erringhi again?

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