The pen seems so futile a thing to depict the scene. It was the same thing day after day. A stealthy advance through the scrub, a rattle of snipers' rifles, then wild cheers, as the Australians scrambled up the hill; a terrific fusillade as they neared their objective; a glint of gleaming bayonets as they charged the trenches; then the wild mêlée of hand-to-hand fighting, when one Australian always reckons himself a match for three Turks; and finally the shout of victory. And through it all the stretcher-bearers were real true-blue. Under the heaviest fire they went right up to the firing-line, tended the wounded, and carried them back to the field hospitals. Oh, you, who think the Army Medical Corps is always comfortably and safely situated at the base, pray be undeceived! Their part is just as hazardous as that of the soldier of the line. Soon the cheers of the victors and the cries of the Turks died down. Above the groans of the wounded could be heard the staccato tones of the officers ordering platoons and sections this way and that to defend the position against counter-attacks. Scores of prisoners were led away. Hundreds of captured rifles were stacked. German machine-guns were faced about and manned. Bomb-throwers were placed in position. Hot tea was served out to the men. Night fell. Lone Pine was ours. The successive ridges on our left towards Hill 971 had all been captured by the New Zealanders, and our 4th Infantry Brigade under General Monash and the 3rd Light Horse Brigade under General Hughes. The big battle of Suvla Bay was over. But it was only a partial victory. Despite our gains and our losses the Turks still blocked the way to Constantinople. CHAPTER XX LUCKY ESCAPES TRUTH IN WAR STRONGER THAN FICTION--IS IT FATE OR LUCK?--CLOSE SHAVES FOR GENERALS AND SERGEANTS--SWIMMERS, AND SHELLS NOT OF OCEAN--A FATAL RICOCHET--BURIED AND DISENTOMBED When I was a good little boy going to Sunday school, teacher gave me a book entitled _Wonderful Escapes_. I read it with absorbing interest, for it told of the marvellous escapes of princes and princesses from fortified castles in the hands of their enemies. Yet these delightful tales which so thrilled my youthful imagination pale into insignificance and seem quite commonplace when compared with the hair-breadth escapes which I have witnessed, and which I have myself experienced since the 2nd Light Horse Brigade landed on battle-scarred Gallipoli. With the Taubes dropping bombs and darts from the sky, with the Turks undermining and blowing up our advanced trenches, with snipers cunningly concealed on the ridges, and the enemy's big guns sending high explosives right across the Peninsula, there is really not a single safe spot in all Gallipoli. So, when these Australian soldiers get home again and fight their battles o'er again, don't disbelieve them. The truth here is much more startling than any fiction.