The Kangaroo Marines Part 10

Section after section took up a new line. Then the rushes started again. All the time the rifles were spitting out their fire. They reached within fifty yards of the outpost line. As this was simply a protective screen, and not the line of resistance, the enemy's outpost companies commenced to fade away systematically in the direction of their main body.

"Prepare to charge," ordered the officer.

"With bayonets?" queried Bill.

"No," he snapped.

"Wot's a bloomin' bayonet for?" asked Bill when the officer was out of hearing.

"For openin' jam tins, ye fathead," said Paddy.

"Charge!" The long line rose like one man. With a great cheer they swept away the remnants of the outpost companies and occupied the ridge. This gave the Australians a complete view of the main position.

Both flanks rested on impa.s.sable obstacles. The front was secured by imaginary entanglements, backed up by a series of trenches and an array of Maxims and guns. This was the information required by the Australian G.O.C. The reconnaissance had served its purpose. The "a.s.sembly" was sounded, and the field day seemed done.

But war is full of surprises, and it is the surprises which make or mar a general's name. While General Fearless and his force were rallying for lunch all were suddenly surprised by a fearful roll of musketry on the right.

"By gad, sir--we're trapped!" said the Chief of Staff, jumping up.

"Shall I order the brigades to form to the right, and meet this attack?"

"No," said Fearless, coolly eating his sandwich. "Get me some information."

"But they may decimate us in the meantime, sir."

"Get me information, please," was the quiet and more firm command.

Two aides-de-camp were sent at the gallop towards the mysterious force which had suddenly appeared and was furiously firing blank. They found the New Zealanders pressing on in three separate lines towards them.

"It's a proper trap," said one of the gallopers. "And look to our rear. There's more there. This flank business is a feint. They're trying to smash us behind, and they're 'cute enough not to fire a shot from that direction. Say, Brown, gallop back and tell the general, and I'll try and bluff this front line here." Away went the messenger while the other young staff officer galloped into the front line of New Zealanders.

"The New Zealanders will cease fire," said the daring galloper. His staff cap commanded the respect of an innocent subaltern. He blew his whistle. More whistles were heard. In two minutes all was comparatively still.

"You will commence firing again in fifteen minutes. Pa.s.s it along."

Down the line went the false order. Smiling inwardly, the shrewd aide-de-camp galloped away. Meantime the Australian G.O.C. had acted vigorously. Throwing out two regiments to hold the feinting force on his right, he then turned the other brigades about. These were deployed at the double, sent forward with a rush, and, in three minutes, dug shelter trenches in the sand. They were ordered to keep low until the main body of the New Zealanders pressed the attack well home. It was an exciting moment. And the Maorilanders expected an easy win. On they came in their long skirmishing lines. At last they were within fifty yards of the hidden Australians.

"Rapid fire!"

Bang! Zrrrp--Boom! Boom! Boom! crashed rifles, Maxims, and guns.

The New Zealanders were startled. Before they had recovered from their surprise, Fearless ordered the "Charge!" Like deerhounds, his men rose up and dashed pell-mell into the panic-stricken host. There was a shock, a wavering, and then a pell-mell rush to the rear. The Australians had won. They had _not_ been surprised.

"Cease fire! Sound the 'Officers' Call,'" ordered the chief umpire, galloping up. From far and near came the leaders to the pow-wow.

"Well, gentlemen," said the umpire (the Commander-in-Chief), "I've seen much to-day. There has been little to deplore and a great deal to commend. Throughout the whole show there has been shown skill, enthusiasm, and dash. Leadership was good, communication fair, and nothing very rash was done. Your eight months' training has improved you beyond recognition.

"To-day I tested our Australian friends. I planned to trick them, to throw them into confusion, and to cause a general panic by a sudden onslaught while they were resting and apparently finished for the day.

The trap failed because General Fearless was cool and appreciated the situation. That, to me, is an important point. The surprises of war are the things which make us or break us. Surprises in South Africa smashed more reputations than anything else. It is perfectly easy at manoeuvres to carry out a scheme laid down. It is not easy suddenly to meet a dramatic development or side issue.

"Now for another point. Our colonial friends still suffer from an abundance of vitality and the too daring use of the initiative. That is a good fault, and yet a bad one. In guerilla warfare it would be a tremendous a.s.set. In a concerted scheme it might prove disastrous. No matter how daring and clever the individual soldier or officer, if he forgets that there are men, sections, regiments, and brigades to his right or left--if he fails to appreciate the full value of co-ordination and co-operation, he is a danger to himself and his force. Of course, gentlemen, I fully appreciate that this charming recklessness of our overseas cousins is due to temperament, not to intent or a desire to be big at the expense of their fellows. That is why we have trained you so hard. Without any desire to give offence, I say boldly that the Australians and New Zealanders are an infinitely better trained, better disciplined, and, therefore, a more useful body of men than was sent by these Dominions to South Africa.

"It has been a very long, weary road, gentlemen. Your men, I am sure, have cursed me often. But grousing is the privilege of the soldier.

Indeed, I always suspect the man who doesn't grouse. He is either too meek, or else he is like a Quaker--far too respectable. And this great camp of ours would, indeed, be dull without the original adjectives of our Australasians.

"That is all, gentlemen, except this--and it is important--in a few weeks you will be in active service. We expect great things of the Australasians, the Twenty-ninth Division, and our Lancashire men; and I know that we shall receive of your best. Good-day, gentlemen." And off rode the handsome courtier and soldier with a rousing cheer ringing in his ears. There's nothing like brains; and there's a great deal in tact. Ask a colonial.

CHAPTER VII

THE LANDING

A great convoy of transports, guarded by destroyers, ploughed silently through the waters which lap the European side of the Gallipoli Peninsula. The ships had the Australian force on board, and the destroyers were there to a.s.sist them in one of the most daring missions in modern war.

All lights were out and strict silence was observed. Each man had, therefore, time to commune with the spirits of those nine thousand miles away. It was not a time for the buffoon; they were faced with all the dread perils of war.

Nearer and nearer the ships drew to their objective. At last they reached the point a.s.signed them by the Staff. A quiet signal was given. Destroyers, pinnaces, and row boats were placed at the sides of the transports, rough gangways thrown out, and the command to move quietly was pa.s.sed along. Noiselessly they stepped from the transports; but all the while there was an electric-like feeling around the heart--that peculiar something which only the soldier knows.

However, there wasn't time to romance or moralise. War rules out sentiment and fears. There was a job to be done.

When each boat was packed with its human freight, the gangways were slipped, cables thrown off, and all were quietly towed to the sh.o.r.e.

It was still dark--one hour, in fact, before the dawn. When close insh.o.r.e, the hand of Providence proved kind. This took the form of a strong current--so strong, in fact, that it pressed the boats away from the point previously a.s.signed for the landing and washed them into a safer part for the historic encounter.

That current saved thousands of Australian lives; indeed, it may have ensured the success of the mission. Had the Australians landed at the point decided on, it is doubtful whether the landing would have been so thoroughly effective as it proved on the other beach.

"Not much doing--eh?" said Colonel Killem to his adjutant as he peered through the darkness to the sh.o.r.e. Indeed, it seemed that the enemy had left this sh.o.r.e unguarded. But the Turks are wily soldiers. They allowed the boats to near the sh.o.r.e, then opened up a murderous rifle and machine-gun fire.

"Gad! Boys, I'm hit!" said a subaltern, falling, his blood spurting in a stream all over his clothes.

"So'm I!" said another youngster with a ping in his arm.

"Holy Father, preserve us!" muttered Doolan, crossing himself, as they grated on the sh.o.r.e.

"Jump, boys, jump!" shouted the colonel. There was no need to tell them, no need to show the lead. They leaped pluckily from their boats and dashed up the beach. There was a pause while a few collected.

Then, seeing the Turks firing furiously from a trench ahead, somebody yelled out, "Charge!" A cheer electrified the chilling dawn as they rushed on. Some were killed; some fell, wounded, on the way; the others pressed forward, their faces grim, their eyes alert, and the muscles of their arms all taut with the fierce gripping of the rifles in their hands. It was their first charge; but they did it like the veterans of Corunna and Waterloo.

"Allah! Allah!" shouted the Turks as they neared the trenches.

"Too late, old c.o.c.k," said Bill, plunging his bayonet home.

"That's one for Paddy Doolan."

"Help, Paddy; this big deevil's got me," yelled Sandy, who had been struck by a Turk. Crash went the Irishman's b.u.t.t on the Turk's skull, and he fell back dead. Sandy's wound was dressed, and he was sent to the rear. Meantime some supports had come up.

Seeing the Turks fleeing into another trench some fifty yards up the slope, the colonel ordered them to charge again. The Australians'

blood was up. They had seen red and had felt success. They wanted more. Throwing off their c.u.mbersome packs, they charged forward again.

"They've got me," shouted an officer, throwing up his arms and letting out the awful shriek of death. But this withering fire did not appal these young Australians. The sight of their comrades, dead and wounded, roused them more. Revenge set their faces hard, and with many a fierce and terrible oath they leaped into the second trench.