ur disposal was
made use of, so that every arm of the service had a share in the
victory."

A good description of the Australian soldier, as he follows up his
victory, was given in a story of an American war correspondent, who
wrote concerning Flanders:

NEW LAND OF WARFARE.

"After these many months of trench warfare there is keen delight for the
Australian soldier in this new land of warfare which the German
retirement has opened up. The fighting is in open country now, over
gently rolling downs of what looks like grass land. It is really most of
it wheat or turnip land which has not been cultivated for a year or two.
The country is as open as the Australian central plains.

"It is quite a new sort of battlefield for the Australians. They march
down to it through valleys almost exactly like the valleys in the
peaceful parts of France. There are whole acres in which one cannot see
a single shell hole. Back across the green country or down the open
roads come men in twos or threes occasionally, sauntering as one might
find them on a country road. They are the wounded helping one another
back to the dressing station. The walking wounded have to help each
other back in these modern battles. It is no longer looked upon as
meritorious for an unwounded combatant to leave the field and help a
wounded comrade to the rear.

"Nearest the front the country becomes more feverish. Angry bursts of
tawny color are seen in a haphazard sort of way dotting the horizon and
the countryside. Here and there are Australians standing behind mounds
of earth with their rifles pointed over the top, bayonets always fixed.
Frequently, when there is no other shelter there are hastily scooped
trenches. A quarter of a mile away another party is lining a roadside,
flat on their stomachs in the ditch, bayonets peeping over the top.
Shells are whizzing by at the rate of two or three a minute, high
explosives bursting on contact behind their backs about as far away as
the other side of a cottage parlor.

PRISONER AND ESCORT.

"Frequently one meets a prisoner being escorted to the rear. There is
something very impressive about these little processions of two men,
prisoner and escort. The prisoner, usually a young German private in
neat gray uniform and steel helmet, walks in front. After him, grasping
his rifle with both hands across his chest, his weatherbeaten brows
puckered as he picks his way over the tumbled stones, comes the living
emb