Trooper Bluegum at the Dardanelles

KS-SNIPERS ABOUT-"BIG LIZZIE" AT WORK-SOLDIER

Turks can't shoot for nuts! But the German machine

as chirpy as a gamecock. For he was one of the band of Australian heroes, wounded and back from the front. And we who list

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 wa

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

ried 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 wa

e'?" asked another blood-bespattered

ng, '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

l Lee) chipped in here: "Ever tried wading through ba

s on the peninsula, but one spot was a hornet's nest and they started to sting when the Australians reached the beach. A couple

d the Queenslander, "and I've a bit of shrapnel shel

for nix," said a disgusted corporal. "Landed at 4 a.m. Sh

so

was make-believe, but I know better now. I used to say myself that I "wanted to be there" (and sotto voce I used to add "I don't think"); and now, in my heart-searchings, I began to wonder if I didn't really mean it, after all. I used to strike an attitude and quote, "One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an

ld. Those soldiers back from the Dardanelles, many of them sorely wounded, were laughing and joking all day, ch

ed leg, as he raised himself with difficu

t the side of the bed,

ds you as well as it leaves me at present.'... How'

t, this war is a fair cow. Your affectionate nephew." Just that, and nothing mor

iers, I make bold to give it. It was just this: "My darling Helen, I would rather be spending t

erful Aus

nd when we saw our men coming back, many of them old friends, with their battle-scars upon them, we fretted and fumed impatiently? We had a church parade, and the chaplain, Captain Keith Miller,

nted men to push home the attack and ensure the victory. We knew that no cavalry could go for a couple of weeks, and our fellows were just "spoiling for a fight." They were sick and tired of the endless waiting, wit

tenant-Colonel Harris and Lieutenant-Colonel Arnott. What happened at this little Council of War we don't know. But we gu

t Light Horse Brigade (Colonel Chauvel) and

. After eight months of soldiering we were deeply attached to our chargers. Fighting on foot was not our forte. We were far more at home in the saddle. But Colonel Ryrie expressed the dominant thought of the men when he

t and dust and the flies and the desert suddenly became jovial again. At dinner they passed the joke along, sang s

on foot. Blistered heels and trenches ahead; but it's