Hook busied himself with the pack-saddle, fixing gadgets here and knocking bits off there, until he had it to his satisfaction. All the technical equipment—wireless sets, cable gear, etc.—had to be converted for use on pack-saddles in this Amman business during March, ’18. [Illustration] Six days later the Squadron moved out in the rain, wound its way through the Judean Hills, travelled over the Jordan Valley, crossed the river, and passed up into the hills of Moab. No wagons or wheeled transport of any kind could possibly traverse those tremendous hills, where the narrow track clung to the steep sides of the hills and threatened to fall away over precipices into rock-fanged valleys beneath. The rain poured down, and along the slippery track the column wended its way, toiling in single file up steep hills and down into precipitous valleys. The path became a river; water poured over the rocky sides of the hills and rushed into the valleys below. Everybody was wet through and greatcoats flapped soggily about weary legs; dripping horsemen led their horses and stumbled and splashed along the track; pack-horses and mules struggled and scrambled as their loads slipped; but the column pushed on and reached a position at Amman after two days and two nights of rain. “We cannot use the helios, and the cable is ‘dis’ somewhere back in the hills. Is the wireless set up yet?” Rip-p-p-p-p-p. Rip-p-p-p-rip-p-p-p-rip-p-p-p-rip-p-p-p-p-p-p. The crash of the transmitting sent echoes through the rain-sodden air and the singing spark sent its message through space, and then whined away into silence. The engine had “karked”—communication had ceased. No. A basket crate was brought from one of the packs, a message was written on a special form, of thin paper, and placed in a small aluminium tube; a carrier pigeon was taken from the crate, and released with the small tube containing the message attached to one of its legs. The bird circled round uncertainly for a few moments and then flew off in a straight line toward the leaden clouds in the West. Communication was still maintained. * * * * * [Illustration] These are but three incidents—three of many—which have happened in the Signal Service. The Service calls for initiative, coolness, and devotion; all these it has in its ranks. In the desert of Sinai, on the dusty stretches of Southern Palestine, on the plains of Philistia, in the hills of Judea—everywhere “east of the Canal”—the Signal Service has always maintained a high standard which has brought credit to itself, and to the Australian Imperial Force in Egypt. “ACK-VIC-ACK.” [Illustration: THE END] [Illustration] Battle Song