“Having come alive through the terrible ordeal of that shell and bullet strand of open beach, the Australians and New Zealanders were fired to the highest fighting pitch. Companies of them sang as they climbed and pushed and struggled along—sang or rather yelled snatches of all manner of songs though they didn’t sound much like songs. More like strange, sustained savage war cries. “There was no staying the impetuosity of some of them.” SOME WOULDN’T “DIG IN” At last the Turks began to give way. They were on the run. But their forts two and three miles away were still pouring their fire. The men were ordered to dig in. Despite orders, however, “hundreds of our warriors refused to stop. They charged right on through the pathways and tunnels in the cliffs. We never saw them again. Those that were not killed were captured by the Turks. We used to say in speaking of them afterward that they had ‘gone on to Constantinople.’” The Australians had proved their mettle in this terrible adventure. Everlasting glory was theirs—soldiers so recently recruited. The soldiers, though, were not the only ones to be elevated to higher sacrifice in these soul-straining demands. “There was the work done by the Australian Army Service Corps—landing a steady procession of boats with medical and food supplies as well as ammunition, fleets on fleets of these boats from the transports and battleships moving to shore with the coolest regularity, with the waters around every one of them constantly thrashed by tons of falling shells. Scores of the boats were blown up. But the others never stopped.” “The stretcher-bearers and the doctors we could also see working calmly among the sand dunes, ignoring snipers’ bullets as though they had been harmless flakes of snow. Slow and painful files of the wounded—those who could walk or stagger along were being guided to protected places until the coming of night might enable their removal to the hospital ships. “As for the dead whose countless prone bodies were strewn upon the beach with curious pitiful inertness, so different from that of sleep that you know instinctively it means death—there was no use then risking live men to give the dead the attention, to award them such decencies of care and burial as were their due. This also would be the work of the night. Yes, and many a man as he worked over the graves of his fallen comrades pitched into that grave, himself become a dead man—betrayed to a sniper by the moonlight’s gleam. “Twilight veiled the sun and then very suddenly black night came.” [Illustration: © _New York Herald._ British Troops Meeting a Charge by the Turks Their fighting equipment reduced to machine guns and rifles, a small British unit at Gallipoli met the onrushing Turks in the open and drove them back.] The Australians had done the thing men in authority had thought it impossible to do. Lord Kitchener later declared this one of the most brilliant feats of bravery and soldiering of the war.