rst
Turkish attack. The enemy withered away, their survivors and wounded
creeping back into the shelter of their trenches.

"Don't fire, men! Don't fire at those poor devils," shouted the
officers as they watched them limp away.

This was chivalry, and chivalry can always be found in a British heart.

"Thank God for a breath," said Claud, leaning wearily against the
parapet. But the attack was not finished. The Turkish reserves were
swarming up the gullies and through the communicating lines. Lyddite,
shrapnel, and Maxims tore great gaps in their ranks. Yet on they came.
One regiment deployed from the top of a gully and made the charge.

"Rapid fire!" roared Killem. A terrific fusillade burst forth. The
Turks fell in heaps, moaning, shrieking, and yelling. The sight was
sickening. Heaps of dead and dying all around. But _again_ the
Turkish host came on. Two great columns of men burst out in front of
the New Zealanders and The Kangaroos.

This was really the most critical moment of the day. Here entered the
Drill Book maxim: "An attack should be met with a counter-attack." For
this was to be the last and desperate throw of the Turkish Staff. If
it broke the Australasian lines, the enemy would realise their boast of
pushing them into the sea. The New Zealanders and Kangaroos
appreciated the danger to the full. And so the command rang out:
"Prepare to charge!" Every man placed his foot for the jump.

"Charge!"

Up leaped Killem and his willing men, and at their side charged the New
Zealand boys. Grimly they gripped their rifles, bravely they ran and
cheered. A charge is a thrilling and soul-inspiring affair. Danger
and death pass away from the soldier's heart. He is alive, he is
filled with the tingling blood and full of the traditions of his race.
The Kangaroos met the Turkish host midway. A shock of men, a shock of
arms, a blind confusion, a horrible fierceness and hacking of human
flesh.

"Give it 'em, boys," roared Killem above the din. A Turkish officer
heard him and aimed his revolver at Killem's head. But Doolan was
there again. He pinned his man through the chest, and, with an oath,
flung him off his bayonet--dead.

Claud got lost in the _melee_. He found himself surrounded. Bravely
he fought, but a bayonet was stuck in his shoulder, and he fell into
the struggling mass of wounded men. Bill, though wounded in the head,
fought with the madness of a fiend. With Doolan, he kep