Sergeant Brennan, who used to be in the Dublin Fusiliers, and whose camp kitchens at Liverpool have often been admired by Sydney visitors, was in charge of the cooks and dixies of the 7th Light Horse. Every morning, breakfast over, he took down his rifle, strolled across to the trenches, and had innumerable duels with Turkish snipers. He had the range of all their trenches, and when he saw a sniper's "posey" he blazed away till he silenced the enemy. Now and then an unwary Turk showed half a head, and this Irish sharpshooter was on to him like a shot. Some days he would come back to camp angry and disappointed. "Thirty shots and not a single scalp," he exclaimed, kicking aside some innocent mess tin. But at other times he stalked back as if he had won the battle of Anzac "on his own." "Killed three Turkeys," he cried. And then he was as happy as Larry all day. But there was one man in the 5th Light Horse Regiment whom we called "The Murderer." He played the Turks at their own game, and beat them badly. He himself admitted it was "a shame to take the money." He used to sit with his rifle set at a certain track which the enemy thought was well concealed behind the hills. His mate had a telescope, and spotted for him. They waited till they saw a head appear, and they knew that three seconds later a Turk would be in full view for two seconds. That was quite enough. "The Murderer" was ready. The spotter said "Right"; the rifle fired, and another victim of German "kultur" fell. The man's name was Billy Sing, a Queenslander, belonging to "Midgley's Myrmidons." The 5th Light Horse Regiment was nominally composed of Queenslanders; but the North Coast rivers of New South Wales were included in the 1st Commonwealth Military District. A great many men from the Tweed, Richmond, and Clarence Rivers enlisted in Brisbane. This was particularly true of the 5th Light Horse, for the majority of Major Midgley's squadron hailed from Northern New South Wales. They revelled in the exploits of the gallant little Major, swearing to follow him anywhere, so we called them Midgley's Myrmidons. If he were casually to remark, "Come on, boys, I think we'll take Achi Baba to-night," not one of them would have hesitated an instant. Major Midgley reckoned that since the glorious game of War degenerated into a battle of troglodytes, we might as well make it interesting and diverting. So, in this particular section of our line of battle, things were always happening. We never wanted for diversion. But this same diversion was always at the expense of our friend the enemy, and poor Abdul was correspondingly angry.