sk-masters had given them a certain
assurance by sending them forward elbow to elbow, line upon line.

In brief, this attack was meant as an overwhelming flood of bayonets
upon the Australasians' lines. The Turkish Staff argued that, after
all, these troops were only volunteers; they could not withstand a
violent offensive movement. But they did; they even surprised their
General and the Staff. And the ability to wait for a signal to shoot
was in itself a sign of perfect control, excellent fire discipline.

The Turks were now close to the barbed wire entanglements. This was
the moment desired. A whistle sounded in the lines.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Z-r-r-p! went thousands of rifles and dozens of
machine-guns. Gad! How these Turks withered and fell. It was brutal,
yet it was inspiring. Shrieks, curses, and groans were mixed with
pitiful cries for "Allah!" "Allah!"

Bravely these Turkish soldiers died, and bravely the more fortunate
came on. They tore through the barbed wire with a fiendish frenzy and
leaped down on to parts of their enemy's lines. With that mad ferocity
which only a Moslem fanatic can display, they plugged their bayonets
into the first opposing man. Cold steel is hard to face. Few armies
can face it. Only Russians, Britishers, and Japs are good at the game.
And these sons of John Bull stood up to the test with a magnificent
courage. They plunged, thrust, hacked, butted, cursed, and fumed in
this awful combat. Civilisation had gone. Primitive lusts were
triumphant. Blood flowed in streams, men fought with gaping wounds,
dying men fell crying to Allah or to God according to their race and
creed. There was no time to moralise on the hellish side of modern
war. There was only time to fight or die.

And in this awful combat The Kangaroos had a terrible time. Their
redoubt was invaded. Yet they did not yield. One great Turk charged
down on Claud. Sandy parried the thrust, the Turk recovered and thrust
again straight into poor Sandy's heart. He gasped, and fell lifeless
at Bill's feet.

With maddened fury Bill crashed his butt down on the foeman's skull.

Another Turk almost pinned Colonel Killem, but Paddy dashed forward,
struck up the bayonet, and killed the man with a blow.

"Thanks, Doolan, thanks!" shouted the Colonel as he turned to deal with
another man. This gallant defence, combined with the deadly musketry
on the less exposed parts of the line, completely smashed the fi