“Gather around the banners of your country, Join in the chorus or the foam, On land or sea, wherever you be, Keep your eye on Germanee. England’s home of beauty has no cause to fear, Should old acquaintance be forgot? No! No! No! No! No! Australia will be there, Australia will be there!” CHAPTER VI GIVING UP GALLIPOLI In looking over the notes and papers I have collected to aid me in the preparation of this book, memory is vigorously stirred by a clipping of an article from the Sydney _Mail_ of October 31, 1917, written by a fellow officer who prefers to remain anonymous. He wrote well of the familiar scenes of the famous battlefield as they would appear today. Following is an extract: “The ‘Vineyard’ has blossomed and the small green grapes cluster on the vine. The well by the fisherman’s hut has run sweet once more. The cave dwellers by Shrapnel Gully, Quinn’s Post and Courtenay’s are as quiet and still as tombs. Grass and weeds have grown over the winding paths that thread the valleys and scrape the hilltops. The sandbags of the traverses have rotted and burst, spilling their earth on the litter of these battles of yesterday. And out through the chessboard field the grave-mounds of earth that we pattered down with spade and entrenching tool have blossomed with wild flowers and green grass. The warm, tideless Ægean washes these empty beaches where once thousands of men from the Empire’s back-blocks made war as it had never been made before. “Two years ago forty thousand men walked these paths. They slept in these dug-outs, or in the trenches, and the detonation of the guns of the warships shook loose the earth and sand above them so that it rattled down in their faces, waking them from dreams of home to an uncomfortable reality. Think of those three days two years ago! Think of the waterless fight for Chocolate Hill; of the wounded lying in the brushwood and waiting for the sweeping grass fires to reach their resting place. Men lay there unable to move; some of them not able to pull their water bottles from their web-slings! Think of them and remember them, for in all wars there was never a more gallant forlorn hope than this one.