Near Suez.
Then, finally, for Double Eagles’ head,
In order to perpetuate my Kultur,
By Royal Decree I’ll substitute instead—
A Vulture.
H. B. C.
THE ANZAC THUNDERSTORM—FROM THE TRENCHES
Do not we know that fall of night over Anzac!
Boom-boom! Boom-boom! Boom-boom! All the afternoon the warships on our right had been engaged in the playful work of tearing pieces from the hillsides of Achi Baba, eight miles to the south of us, ruining the trenches of our friend the enemy, blowing up a supply base, a mule train, dropping shells on the forts, or indulging in some of the many small acts of friendliness to which Jack Tar is prone. As the evening wore on we could see the flash from both shell and gun.
About the time we finished our frugal evening meal lightning began to play in intermittent flashes, like a heavenly searchlight, from far across the hidden Narrows and Asia Minor, and put to shame the puny bursts of light from the handiwork of man. The boats were still at it, but their dull booming was now intermixed with the rumble of distant thunder.