slem
blighter," muttered Bill, taking careful aim.

"Mind yis don't hit the ould fellow up in the moon," said Paddy just as
Bill let go.

"Ye spud-faced Paddy. Ye--ye--ye----" blurted out Bill, throwing down
his gun in anger.

"Missed, be Jasus--yis couldn't hit the town of Sydney at a hundred
yards. Paddy Doolan's the man for that job." He seized the rifle, but
just as he was going to open the little iron door there was a rattle of
bullets all over the plate.

"Down, boys, down," he shouted.

"It's a beastly Maxim," said Claud, looking up. And a Maxim it was.
In ten minutes the so-called armoured plate was riddled. This was the
experience with nearly all the other plates--one of the many annoying
problems of war. However, the new plates were doubled and bolted.
Then they were covered with sandbags and erected so as not to be too
obvious on the parapet. This scheme defied the sniper and the Maxim,
and, in this way, the Turks' fire was subdued. This was important. In
trench warfare the enemy must be terrorised. Not a head must be
allowed to bob up, not a rifle and eye seen. Snipers must be hunted to
death and given such a hefty and quick dispatch as to intimidate their
successors. Water parties and ration parties have to be set on the
run; reinforcements spotted and scattered; officers, too, must be kept
in their place--below the parapet, if not below the sod. All of this
means that the enemy gets demoralised and sickened. And when he has
had a month or two of this gentle treatment he is easily dealt with
when the time comes for an offensive and bayonet charge.

Of course, the Turks did not let the Australasians have it entirely
their own way. When sniping and rifle fire became too dangerous, they
resorted to the bomb. The bomb isn't a respectable thing. It
sometimes takes your head off, and frequently punctures the system in
rather an ugly manner. When a bomb hits, you know it. It is something
like a railway engine striking a match-box. These Turkish
bomb-throwers had some idea of making a sort of Irish slew out of their
opponents' bodies. They bombed _and_ bombed _and_ bombed. Now, this
wasn't at all polite, and it was most uncomfortable, especially when
sitting down to a stolen Maconochie--an appetising dish. These bombs
burst the parapets, ripped up the sandbags, and knocked men's brains
into other men's eyes. Most annoying! One morning a bomb just missed
Bill's head.

"What the--wh