"From the support trench, which was full of Turks, there poured a hail of bullets and grenades, causing us to reel and fall back for a breathing space. Then our own bomb throwers stepped forward and hurled bombs into the trench, whence fragments of shattered humanity leaped up into the air. The desperate men sprang from the trench and bravely charged, but ten yards was as far as they got; under our deadly rifle and machine-gun fire they went down like wheat before the scythe.
"We counter-charged in the next moment and scores of our fellows went over the parapet into the trench, where the stabbing blows of the bayonet could be heard for a good three minutes. Then the firing line was ours again.
"But the support trench in the centre still held out. Owing to the bombproof shelter there was no possible way of shifting the stubborn defenders. Bravely they fought for their footing but the use of bombs convinced them of the hopelessness of the position they occupied. Finally they surrendered; and came out covered with blood and dust, eighteen limping heathen heroes. We hope we showed them due respect, the respect we felt for their brave fight.
"Then came the task of clearing the trench of the dead, a gruesome work. Poor shattered fragments of humanity, without any likeness to the human form remaining had to be gathered up in sandbags and carried away. No words can paint the hideous thoroughness with which the grenades do their devilish work. So ended the fight of May 29."
The craters were also taken by a body of Light Horse who, after throwing a large number of bombs into the craters, boldly leaped in, with their bayonets fixed. They cleared the holes of Turks, though all of the attacking force were wounded but two, and the greater part of them were isolated in the craters for a night. But they held the craters until relief could be sent them.
This necessitated some brisk work by an Australian machine-gun section, in the course of which one young gunner distinguished himself by bravery and devotion of the highest order. He was engaged against two Turkish machine guns, and continued to work his own gun, though they were cutting away his parapet of sandbags, and must eventually expose him to a stream of bullets. The maintenance of his fire was of the utmost importance, since it covered a series of operations by a considerable force of men. At last he fell back wounded, but not until he had saved the situation by his devoted bravery.
With a little experience, the Anzacs became in their turn first-class sappers.
"I am a voluntary sapper now," writes one of them, "digging a tunnel to some new trenches we have dug just behind a ridge about 100 yards in front of the Turks' trenches. We went out one night to dig them in moonlight, and they opened a pretty brisk fire for a bit, but we were practically safe behind the ridge; all the same, we were ready for them. Three of the evening party got hit, but most of the damage was done by fellows bumping their picks into one another, tearing the seats of their trousers out, etc. Some of our saps go through dead Turks buried during the armistice before we came. We wash ourselves and clothes in the sea, as fresh water is too scarce for anything but drinking purposes just yet."
A diversion from this trench warfare was occasioned on June 28 by an attempt on the part of the Turks to withdraw part of their forces for use in the more southerly part of the peninsula. The Australasians replied with a strong attack. It opened in the regular way by the ships bombarding the hillsides. Then the 2nd Brigade of Australian Light Horse and the 3rd Brigade of Australian Infantry advanced 700 yards, and gave the Turks something to think about. This produced a counter-attack, which was repulsed by the Australasians with heavy loss to the enemy. Then, having fulfilled their mission, the Anzacs retired in good order within their lines.
They are now thoroughly familiar with the strange rough country of Gallipoli, of which one of them writes:—