“Why, three hundred thousand Italians have landed at Helles, and Achi Baba is to be taken to-night.”
I asked who his informant was, and he began to flounder into contradictions. I rushed off, knowing that I was well on the track of Furphy.
In Victoria Gully I heard that Roumania had declared war, and 400,000 troops were marching through Bulgaria to Constantinople.
“Who told you? What was he like?” I gasped at the teller.
“Just a bloke,” was the answer. “’E ’ad two legs, two arms, and a ’ead, two eyes——” Then he added in a puzzled fashion: “But, dammit, did ’e?”
I didn’t wait any longer, but was off again. At Shell Green I heard that a man—just a feller, rather—had told them that the Russians had surrounded and captured Hindenburg’s army, and that 500,000 Russians were to make a landing in Turkey. The Russian officers were here already. The man who had seen them had just passed five minutes before. I wasn’t far from Furphy now.
At Chatham’s Post they were buzzing with excitement over the news that 600,000 French were going to be landed between Kaba Tepe and Helles.
I asked if they thought it was true, and they assured me that they had heard it from a man who looked as if he knew. No two descriptions of him, however, agreed. I was getting closer to Furphy.
I hurried along the trenches as fast as I could, but got no information till near Lone Pine, where I heard that a big mob of Turks was expected to surrender that night. It was said they could not face the prospect of the coming landing of the whole Italian army. Besides, they were short of food and water, they were being badly treated by their officers, and their guns had hardly any ammunition left. A 75 just then knocked a portion of parapet over me. I remarked that anyone could see the information was right about Abdul being short of ammunition, but where did the information come from?
“A fellow that just went by,” they said; “looked like a staff officer.”