The two men crossed the half-line boundary, and came so close in that the colonel put up his hand to stop them, lest they should arrive on top of our works. “Tell them to stay there, Bargi!” he broke out. “Tell them to come no farther!” Bargi halted them. He had taken courage, the fire being dead; he spoke fluently, and seemed to enjoy his importance. His dusky face glowed with satisfaction and sweat.
“Get up, Bargi,” the colonel said of a sudden. “Go out and meet them. It’s quite safe, man. Go on!”
Poor little Bargi collapsed. It was one matter to peep over a parapet top, and quite another to stand up in the open like a tree, a target for all the world. He gave the colonel a look of agony. “Hurry up, man!” was what he got for his trouble.
He began his climb, and I had scrambled up first and pulled him the last of the way. He made no attempt to go farther, and it did not matter, the Turks having arrived within talking distance. Yet it seemed fate would refuse us our parley, for someone let a machine gun loose—Australian or Turk I do not know, but may Allah smite him! The bullets sang by my head like a swarm of mad bees. There was no time for “After you, sir.” Bargi tumbled back into the trench, and I jumped down on top of him. A brisk burst of rifle fire broke out on both sides, and then died with all suddenness. Next I was up on the parapet again. The Turkish peacemakers had run for their own lines, for now they returned.
Bargi was sadly disinclined for a second re-appearance in the open, but there was nothing for it, and presently he stood on top beside me. The Turks were near at hand again, too close for the colonel’s pleasure; and he waved Bargi forward in abrupt fashion. Openly reluctant, Bargi went.
The meeting was a meeting of dancing masters. They put their hands to their foreheads and bowed profoundly; they advanced and bowed once more; they smiled with utmost courtesy and bowed anew. Next they fell to talking loudly, but in the accents of men who ask the other’s good health, and who rejoice at the fineness of the day. And while they talked, I picked out a seat on the mound before the parapet, and sat down to watch. It was so near evening one might sit at ease out in the sunlight.
Aye, it was a sight you might seek in vain on many a summer’s day. There stood up the two great armies, the Turkish army and the troops of Australasia, filling the mouths of the trenches, and staring one another in the face. Men that had lived days on end between two narrow, sun-baked walls, men that had lifted heads above a certain level at risk of their lives, now looked over the great bare country, and widened their lungs with breezes new from the sea. The sky was filling with clear white clouds, the ground was sown with shadows; and endless heights and depths climbed up and tumbled away. And there were swift greens and blues and greys splashed over the picture, and earthy reds, and glistening patches of sand. And for background were the big hills leaning against the sky.
And rank after rank, from foot to skyline, stood soldiers in their thousands. The reserves were countless. And look you to the right hand, and look you to the left, you were met by our men, their heads lifted over the parapets, or themselves a-top swinging their legs. And between the armies lay the debatable land, pocked with dead men and broken rifles. Ye gods! it was a sight worth the looking.
Where I sat the ground fell sharply away, and a few yards down the slope rested three of our dead, lying with heads close together. And look where you would, you would come on part of a man—a pair of boots pushed from a mound; a hand; an elbow; or may be it was the flutter of a piece of coat. The burials had been by night—graves forced from hard ground, with few minutes to give to the building. The mounds had settled and betrayed their secrets.
Of Turks fallen in the last attack there was no end: it was a day’s task to count them.