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tralians, should on the stroke of 5.30 fix bayonets and storm Krithia and Achi Baba. At 5.15 the men-of-war went at it hot and strong with their big guns and fifteen minutes later the hour glass of eternity dropped a tiny grain labelled 5.30 p.m. 8.5.1915 into the lap of time. As that moment befell, the wide plain before us became alive. Bayonets sparkled all over the wide plain. Under our glasses this vague movement took form and human shape: men rose, fell, ran, rushed on in waves, broke, recoiled, crumbled away and disappeared. At the speed of the minute hand of a watch the left of our line crept forward. On the right, at first nothing. Then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole of the Northern slopes of the Kereves Dere Ravine was covered by bright coloured irregular surging crowds, moving in quite another way to the khaki-clad figures on their left:--one moment pouring over the debatable ground like a torrent, anon twisted and turning and flying like multitudes of dead leaves before the pestilent breath of the howitzers. No living man has ever seen so strange a vision as this: in its disarray; in its rushing to and fro; in the martial music, shouts and evolutions! My glasses shook as I looked, though I _believe_ I seemed very calm. It seemed; it truly seemed as if the tide of blue, grey, scarlet specks was submerging the enemy's strongholds. A thousand of them converged and rushed the redoubt at the head of the Kereves Dere. A few seconds later into it--one! two!! three!!! fell from the clouds the Turkish six inchers. Where the redoubt had been a huge column of smoke arose as from the crater of a volcano. Then fast and furious the enemy guns opened on us. For the first time they showed their full force of fire. Again, the big howitzers led the infernal orchestra pitting the face of no man's land with jet black blotches. The puppet figures we watched began to waver; the Senegalese were torn and scattered. Once more these huge explosions unloading their cargoes of midnight on to the evening gloom. All along the Zouaves and Senegalese gave way. Another surge forward and bayonets crossed with the Turks: yet a few moments of tension and back they fell to their trenches followed by salvo upon salvo of shell bursts. Night slid down into the smoke. The last thing--against the skyline--a little column of French soldiers of the line charging back upwards towards the lost redoubt. After that--darkness! Th
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