‘There are quite enough of the beggars already,’ said Dave.  ’Just listen to the bullets coming over.  That scrub in front of us fairly hums with snipers.’

By the time that the trench was finished it was nearly midday.  The men were given a rest, and dinner was served out.  In spite of the enemy’s fire the Army Service men had managed to bring their stores right up to the trench, and there was fresh bread, butter, cheese, and jam for the hungry fighters.

Down below, engineers were at work, making a path up the cliff, while boats travelled up and down with a dogged and admirable persistence.

The enemy fire in front of the new position grew steadily heavier.  If a cap was put up on a cleaning rod over the parapet, it was sometimes struck by two or three bullets at once.  It seemed clear that the Germans who led the Turks were concentrating their forces in front of the trench, but whether they were new men or not it was impossible to say.  The broken nature of the ground and the heavy scrub hid all that was going on a very little way inland.

‘This is getting a bit thick,’ said Roy Horan, as a fresh crackle of rifle fire burst from a wooded height about a quarter of a mile inland.  A maxim carefully emplaced behind sandbags in the trench replied with a storm of bullets, but it was a poor job, firing at an enemy who were quite invisible, and a feeling of slight depression had begun to settle on the occupants of the trench.

‘The colonel’s having a pow-wow with the other officers,’ said Dave.  ‘Something’s going to happen before long.’

Something did happen.  Presently the whistles trilled, and a sigh of relief went up.

‘Cold steel, bhoys,’ said Sergeant O’Brien.  ’Don’t any of ye wait to shoot.  And open order, mind ye!’

Eagerly the men scrambled out of their trench and plunged into the scrub.  In a long yet level line they went charging through it.

The snipers had not expected another advance.  That was clear enough.  By twos and threes and dozens, they sprang up out of their hiding-places, and bolted like rabbits.  With exulting shouts the Colonials charged after them, ran them down and bayoneted them.

The slaughter was fearful.  As the khaki-clad line swept onwards they left the ground behind them thick with dead bodies.  They themselves lost, of course, but only slightly.  Their attack was such a complete surprise, and they moved so quickly, that for a time they had matters all their own way.  The Turks had no relish for bayonet fighting, and the few who did turn to bay soon paid the penalty.

For a quarter of a mile or more the Colonials continued their career, clearing the whole of the scrub of the plague of snipers.  Then, just in the moment of victory, came such a blast of firing that the whole line reeled and swayed, and men fell by the dozen.

‘Down with you!’ shouted Ken to Dave, who was on his left.  ’Down with you!’