CHAPTER XXVII
THE FINAL PHASE

A LITTLE PESSIMISM—HANGING ON—THE BLIZZARD—FROST-BITE AGONIES—PATRIOTISM AND CRITICISM—TALK OF EVACUATION—"THE FOOL ENGLISH"—KITCHENER COMES—LAST DAYS—THE DIE-HARDS—THE GREAT EXODUS—FAREWELL TO ANZAC—A GLORIOUS FAILURE

Days dragged drearily on. Pessimism peeped into the trenches. Later in the solitude of the dug-out pessimism stayed an unwelcome guest, and would not be banished. All the glorious optimism of April, the confidence of May, June and July had gone, and the dogged determination of August, September and October was fast petering out. Abdul had fringed the dominating hills with barbed-wire and bayonets, and in very surety Australia was "up against it."

Not that any one dared talk pessimism. The croakers would have been squelched instanter. But deep down there was a feeling that unless heavy reinforcements arrived we could never break through to Constantinople. But at Anzac and Suvla the British hung on, desperately, heroically.

September's cold snap was forgotten in the unexpected warmth of October—just like an afterglow of summer. Then came the wintry winds of November—and the blizzard.... Of course we have snow in Australia. Kosciusko is all the year round covered with a soft white mantle. Down on Monaro it can be bleak and wintry. And the old Blue Mountains now and then enjoy a spell of sleet and snow.... But taking us by and large we are a warm-blooded race, we Australians. That is why we viewed the approach of winter with some concern. We knew Abdul could never, never, never break through our lines, and drive us—as Liman von Sanders had boasted—into the sea. But we were beginning to fear that we were a long, long way from Constantinople.

The blizzard swooped down on Anzac. Just like a shroud the white visitation settled on Gallipoli. It was cold as a Monaro gale. Soldiers crowded round the fires, and at night in the trenches it was terribly hard to keep awake. The cold was something to remember. We could keep our hands a bit warm by giving "five rounds rapid" and hugging the rifle barrel. Talk about cold feet; we had heard of "cold feet" when we were in Egypt. But this was the real thing.... How we invoked rich blessings on the heads of the Australian girls who had knitted us those warm socks! How we cursed the thieves along the lines of communication who pillaged and pilfered, while the men in the firing-line went begging! But through it all the indomitable cheerfulness of the Australian soldier would not be crushed. They laughed and joked when their teeth chattered, so that clear articulation was impossible.

To preserve some circulation they stamped their feet till exhaustion bade them cease. But the blizzard was inexorable. The cold permeated everywhere. We got just a glimpse of what the British army suffered in the Crimea.

Frost-bite was something to fear and dread. It was agonizing. Hundreds of men were carried down to the field hospitals and sent across to Lemnos. There were scores of amputations daily.... We had cursed the heat of July and the plague of flies, but now we prayed for summer again.