I still had sixty men in my charge, but as I looked over them as they filed up the gangplank into the _Andrines_, the thought suddenly came to me--it really had not occurred to me before--that of all the men in my command there was not one of the original sixty who had left the _Euripides_ with me for the landing at Gallipoli. Only twelve of the original sixty that I was ever again able to hear from had survived the blowing up of the barge and the barbed-wire obstacles. Of the twelve who had made my little company in the “sangar” we erected on the first ridge of X. Y. Z. beach, there was not one left. Four had been killed, the others so badly injured that they had to be taken to “Restville,” the hospital that had been organized in one of the dug-outs blasted in the stone ridges just above the sands. It came to me that I also had not wholly escaped. My hand still showed the thread of the surgeon’s stitches binding my wound received in the attack of Lone Pine. But, of course, this injury was trivial. It was, after all, for me a mild initiation to what was yet to come. With a small convoy of torpedo destroyers, submarines, hydroplanes, our fleet of transports with about 30,000 tired Anzacs made Alexandria, where we were marched to “Rest Camp.” It was just about what we needed after our strenuous months in Gallipoli. Some of our wounded were taken with us to Alexandria, others were sent to Malta, cases of shellshock decided to be curable to the special hospitals in England, and cases that were despaired of were sent back to Australia, every effort being made in their transportation to get them home in time for farewell meetings with those dear to them. As for myself, I was in the best of health. And I was most eager to introduce a weapon of my invention--an armlet bayonet, to the army authorities. This effort which took me from Alexandria to London was not, however, to keep me more than six weeks from the big fight. I had every reason by practical test to have faith in this armlet bayonet. It had a steel bracelet which fitted the forearm with an extension of two forks clasping the upper arm. On this brace was hinged a steel “T”. The top of the “T” formed a bar to be gripped in the hand. The tail of the “T” was the blade of attack. This blade was seven and one-half inches long. My recommendation for it was that it was an ideal weapon for the hand-to-hand fighting which trench warfare and patrol encounters were constantly demanding. It had its special adaptation for English and Anzacs, all of whom have some knowledge of boxing, just as it would also be admirable for American fighters with whom boxing is familiar from boyhood.