In the evacuation of “Anzac,” I had the honor, reserved for the men who had first landed, of being with those who left the tragic strip of territory the last. I was not a passenger on the very last barge, but if I recall correctly, about the third from the last. We went aboard the transport, Andrines.

I still had sixty men in my charge, but as I looked over them as they filed up the gangplank into the Andrines, the thought suddenly came to me—it really had not occurred to me before—that of all the men in my command there was not one of the original sixty who had left the Euripides with me for the landing at Gallipoli. Only twelve of the original sixty that I was ever again able to hear from had survived the blowing up of the barge and the barbed-wire obstacles. Of the twelve who had made my little company in the “sangar” we erected on the first ridge of X.Y.Z. beach, there was not one left. Four had been killed, the others so badly injured that they had to be taken to “Restville,” the hospital that had been organized in one of the dug-outs blasted in the stone ridges just above the sands.

It came to me that I also had not wholly escaped. My hand still showed the thread of the surgeon’s stitches binding my wound received in the attack of Lone Pine. But, of course, this injury was trivial. It was, after all, for me a mild initiation to what was yet to come.

With a small convoy of torpedo destroyers, submarines, hydroplanes, our fleet of transports with about 30,000 tired Anzacs made Alexandria, where we were marched to “Rest Camp.” It was just about what we needed after our strenuous months in Gallipoli. Some of our wounded were taken with us to Alexandria, others were sent to Malta, cases of shellshock decided to be curable to the special hospitals in England, and cases that were despaired of were sent back to Australia, every effort being made in their transportation to get them home in time for farewell meetings with those dear to them.

As for myself, I was in the best of health. And I was most eager to introduce a weapon of my invention—an armlet bayonet, to the army authorities. This effort which took me from Alexandria to London was not, however, to keep me more than six weeks from the big fight.

I had every reason by practical test to have faith in this armlet bayonet. It had a steel bracelet which fitted the forearm with an extension of two forks clasping the upper arm. On this brace was hinged a steel “T”. The top of the “T” formed a bar to be gripped in the hand. The tail of the “T” was the blade of attack. This blade was seven and one-half inches long.

My recommendation for it was that it was an ideal weapon for the hand-to-hand fighting which trench warfare and patrol encounters were constantly demanding. It had its special adaptation for English and Anzacs, all of whom have some knowledge of boxing, just as it would also be admirable for American fighters with whom boxing is familiar from boyhood.

I knew that the Ghurkas, when they got at the Germans in the first part of the war, using their short knives, demoralized them. The German is not a natural boxer and his gymnasiums give him no training in this art of self-defense. He is too much of an automaton ever to make a boxer. Thus, I figured my armlet bayonet would be a weapon invaluable in engagements where men came hand to hand, especially the surprise engagements of night raids in No Man’s Land. This I had myself shown to my own satisfaction by actual experience. And the use of this new and, as it were, “surprise” weapon met its due appreciation in mention in Government despatches.

But when it came to securing its formal adoption by the Government, I had a disappointment. I received permission from Gen. Birdwood to present the matter to the Australian Minister of Defense, and was given the necessary authority to proceed to England and put my weapon before the Imperial authorities in London.

There I saw Col. Buckley, Australian military adviser, who was keenly interested, and brought it to the notice of the chiefs of the Bureau of Trench Inventions. Col. Burns of this bureau gave the weapon his hearty endorsement, but said the Government had no facilities, so entirely was every means already commandeered, to produce these special weapons in any great number. He advised me, if my means availed, to have some privately manufactured for use in future training of trench fighters, and that the government would gladly purchase them.

This I did within two weeks, having meanwhile had the honor of receiving a commission as lieutenant in the army, and with this promotion from the ranks, being assigned to the historic “Oxford and Bucks” (Oxfordshire and Buckshire) Light Infantry. The regular battalions of this old regiment were already in France, but my assignment was to assist in the training of the reserve battalions.

With the Oxfords and Bucks my duty was the special training of two hundred and fifty young Jews, mostly from London, who had been brought into service through the patriotic endeavors of Major Lionel de Rothschild. They were boys from all walks of life—rich lads and poor lads, and their race can be most justly proud of their subsequent performances.

They were as keenly patriotic as any Englishmen could be, and although with few exceptions, war was not an occupation of which they would have made a choice they were convinced of their duty to defend the country, the gravity of the situation and were therefore very eager and wonderfully quick to learn. I had the armlet bayonet of my invention made in sufficient quantities to supply them all and gave them special instruction in its use, and they were afterward to make frequent demonstrations of its effectiveness.

When these Jewish boys went into action their courage was splendid. I could write sufficient to make another book if I were to set down the individual stories of their bravery and devotion. Perhaps I can do them ample justice, however, with the simple statement that of the two hundred and fifty who flung themselves into the trench fighting in France, there were, when I was sent home crippled in the winter of 1916, but thirty survivors.

Their training with the other battalions of Oxfords and Bucks was conducted at Salisbury Plains, Windmill Hill. The Government always respects the religious faith of its soldiers. It is particular that military life shall not prevent proper observance of creed. The Jewish boys had their rabbi, had their opportunities to observe their fasts and feast days, and were fed in a manner ordered by the orthodox regulations of their faith.

I had them under my instruction only four weeks when orders came for sailing to Europe, and I soon, therefore, found myself back on the battlefield—this time of Flanders.