"Bah!" he exclaimed as he lit his cigarette. "The Turks can't shoot for nuts! But the German machine-guns are the devil, and the shrapnel is no picnic!"
His arm was in a sling, and his leg was bandaged from hip to ankle. But he was cheerful as could be, as proud as Punch, and as chirpy as a gamecock. For he was one of the band of Australian heroes, wounded and back from the front. And we who listened to the deathless story of the wild charge they made could not help wishing we had shared in the glories of that fight.
"It's the Germans we're up against," he went on. "You see they have taught the Turks all sorts of nasty tricks. One of the tricks is to surrender just at the last minute. One Turk in a trench shot my pal on my right and a chap on my left; then when we got right into the trench he suddenly dropped his rifle and put up his hands. I reckoned that wasn't fair, so I jammed my bayonet into him. Time and again the Turks would shoot till we were right on top of them, and then drop guns and surrender. Call that fair fighting?"
Another chap with his tunic all clotted with blood and his head in a bandage here interpolated: "Say, you needn't fear the Turks' shooting. It's safer to be in the firing-line than in the reserves. But look out for those machine-guns; they spit death at you at the rate of ten a second. Also, keep your eyes open for the snipers. We drove them back for miles behind Sari Bair, but there were snipers everywhere. They never minded being killed so long as they could pick off a few officers. One black devil shot our captain at only fifty yards. Five of us got to him, and gave him just what Brutus, Cassius, Casca and the rest gave Julius Cæsar."
"We fought them for three days after landing," said a big bushman in the 2nd Brigade, "and they made about a dozen counter-attacks. But when we had a chance of sitting down and letting them charge us it was dead easy—just like money from home. They never got near enough to sample the bayonets again. But on the 27th they tried to get all over us. They let the artillery work overtime, and we suffered a bit from the shrapnel. The noise was deafening. Suddenly it ceased, and a new Turkish division was launched at us. This was just before breakfast. There is no doubt about the bravery of the Turks. But we were comfortably entrenched, and it was their turn to advance in the open. We pumped lead into them till our rifles were too hot to hold. Time and again they came on, and each time we sent them about their business. At three o'clock we got tired of slaughtering them that way, so we left our little home in the trench and went after them again with the bayonet."
"Say, what do you think of 'Big Lizzie'?" asked another blood-bespattered Cornstalk. "Ain't she the dizzy limit?"
Is it necessary to explain that this was the affectionate way our fellows alluded to the super-Dreadnought Queen Elizabeth? The soldier continued: "All the while our transports were landing, 'Big Lizzie' just glided up and down like an old hen watching her chickens. Every now and then the Turkish destroyers from Nagara tried to cut in and smash up the transports. But the moment 'Lizzie' got a move on they skedaddled. One ship was just a bit slow. Didn't know that 'Big Liz' could hit ten miles off. Shell landed fair amidships, and it was good night, nurse."
One of the 9th Battalion (Queenslanders, under Colonel Lee) chipped in here: "Ever tried wading through barbed wire and water with maxims zipping all round you?"
This pertinent question explained the severe losses of the 3rd Brigade. The landing was effected simultaneously at several points on the peninsula, but one spot was a hornet's nest and they started to sting when the Australians reached the beach. A couple of boats were upset and several sailors and soldiers killed. Others dashing into the shallow water were caught in the barbed wire.
"My legs are tattooed prettier than a picture," added the Queenslander, "and I've a bit of shrapnel shell here for a keepsake, somewhere under my shoulder."