up the remaining piece of ground as
if it had been level. The bhoys put it across the Turks
properly, and I can tell you there were not many shining
bayonets when we finished. We drove them off the ridge, helter
skelter, and they fairly bunked, throwing away rifles and
equipment wholesale. When we got to the top we had five
machine-guns playing on them as they ran down the other side,
and as our chaps watched them from the summit they cheered and
waved their helmets like mad, all the other troops back along
the ridge and the ships' crews joining in."

"Throughout the night the enemy, strongly reinforced, delivered
counter-attacks, one after another," writes the same commanding
officer of the Munsters. "The fighting was severe and bloody, but we
held on, and the morning found us still in possession of what we had
gained, though our losses had been terribly heavy." He goes on: "I
wish I could retail half the acts of individual heroism performed
during those hours--how one sergeant and one corporal, the former I
believe had been destined for the priesthood, the latter only a boy,
threw back the enemy's hand grenades before they could burst one after
another, and failing these threw large stones. Alas! before morning
they had both paid the penalty of their gallantry. In the morning we
were relieved, but the roll call was a sad revelation. My observer,
who had been my groom when we had our horses, shot through the body in
the charge, refused to be removed until the doctor promised him that
he would personally tell me that he was wounded, fearing that I might
think he had not followed me. The doctor faithfully fulfilled his
promise, though it cost him a long walk at night. Such was the spirit
of all ranks. Other units, of course, were equally gallant." An
extract from another letter must be given here, as it reveals one of
the little tragedies of war, and the endurance and resolution of the
men. Sergeant Gallagher, of D company of the Inniskillings, which was
transferred to the Munsters and went into action with them, got a
bullet in his right eye and was made stone blind. "I have a
confession to make," he writes from hospital to the recruiting officer
at Strabane, "I deceived you when you enlisted me. I had a glass eye,
and now I have lost the other. I hope to be back in Strabane soon, but
I shall never see the glen again, and watch the trout leaping behind
the bridge. But I am happy, and