Half an hour later we were out on the Mediterranean--the blue Mediterranean--and we thought of all the fleets that in the centuries gone by had sailed these waters--Greeks, Romans, Carthaginians, Spaniards, Turks, French and British. Our ship was numbered A25--the _Lutzow_, one of the many German liners that had fallen to the mighty British Navy. And on board were crowded 2,000 men. No horses! Our gallant steeds had all been left behind at Ma'adi, ready to follow the moment we drove the Turks from the hills and reached "cavalry country." Our boys had had the chance of coming without horses or stopping behind; they never hesitated for a moment. "Submarine," whispered some one the first day out. And all eyes searched the waters round us. But no submarine had been seen. We had simply been warned that there was a Turkish submarine somewhere outside the Dardanelles. So the brigadier, Colonel Ryrie, took steps to give it a warm reception in case it poked its nose--its periscope--above the surface of the sea. The whole brigade was remarkably happy. Despite the fact that within a couple of days these men would be fighting for their lives, despite the fact that their comrades of the Australian Infantry had just suffered 4,000 casualties in four days, they went as cheerily forward as their relations in Sydney went to the Easter Show. And that reminds me that right here near the Dardanelles I came across a copy of the Easter number of the _Sydney Mail_. What a joy it was to escape the war pictures for a brief while and see, instead, the photographs of prize pumpkins, of milking shorthorns, and the great stock parade, and the high jump, and all the other attractions of one of the greatest shows on earth! It was just like a message of good cheer from sunny New South Wales. We had left Alexandria under sealed orders. We had to meet a certain warship in a certain place and get certain instructions. We travelled at night with all lights out, and threaded our way with care through the Archipelago. Passing Rhodes and Crete and Tenedos, we reached the scene of what has been described as the most picturesque phase of the Great World War--the attack on the Dardanelles. There had been many changes in the brigade, since the men first went into camp at Rosebery Park, Sydney, nine months before. Nearly a thousand men passed through Colonel Cox's regiment before it finally started out to smash the Turk and thrash the Hun. There had been changes also amongst the officers, and as the exact list has never been published and many of these officers were soon to lay down their lives in the service of their country, let me give their names here--a permanent record which will be cherished by those officers and men who remain and by the families of all the brave dead.