t that after the
'stunt' it will be easy to get a new outfit, and maybe you commence to
make plans as to how you will spend your leave. You appear to be quite
oblivious to the fact that the next moment may be your last.

Ages roll by; suddenly you are conscious of somebody by your side; you
make an attempt to smile, when at the same instant the ground trembles
as if in the throes of a tremendous earthquake; flash after flash in
quick succession; the air vibrates with noises that deafen; hundreds
of shells hurtle overhead. 'That's 'er,' shouts the man by your side.
You are pleased that something has happened to divert your mind from
its morbid fancyings. This is the 'Dinkum.' The electrical effect upon
your mind and body is wonderful. You break from the shackles that fear
and fancy have thrown round you. The reports of terrific explosions
rend the air, you grip frantically at the soft mud to prevent yourself
being hurled through space. Somebody from somewhere makes a sign, and
in a moment you are erect and speeding in the direction of the enemy
lines. There is but one thought in the mind as you allow your hand to
tighten round your rifle--to gain your objective. Heaven help the Hun
who attempts to frustrate you. 'Hurrah!' The wire has been smashed to
smithereens, and in less time than it takes to describe you are 'over
the top'--close up to the enemy line. You stumble forward, onward,
without noticing the broken nature of the ground. The sight of the
enemy rushing towards you with hands well above their heads, shouting
'Kamerad,' or fleeing before your advance, excites greater enthusiasm.

You begin to notice other things. Possibly the first thing that dawns
upon your mind is that others are taking part in the business--that
you are not alone. Then you notice the effect of our shell-fire; this
inspires greater confidence, and involuntarily you thank heaven for
such splendid artillery. Then you notice little heaps clad in familiar
khaki--they are what remain of comrades who have sealed their love of
country with their blood. You observe others wandering aimlessly
about, suffering from shell-shock; or the gallant stretcher-bearers,
regardless of all danger, attending to the wounded and carrying them
back for treatment. The sight does not grieve or shock you--only
surprise is evinced by a change in facial expression. You just carry
on--the shock and grief will come later. You just grit your teeth and
take a fresh grip of y