Towards the end of July, owing to the numbers killed, wounded and in hospital, the Corps was reduced to less than half its strength, and as, at that time, we had no depot in Egypt to send us recruits, it was obvious that, in the course of another couple of months, this interesting and useful unit would cease to exist, if the present rate of casualties continued. The reduced strength of the Corps having come to the knowledge of Sir Ian Hamilton, I was ordered to proceed to Imbros and report to General Headquarters there. I had an interview with the Commander-in-Chief, and the result was that I was commissioned to go to Alexandria, and, if possible, recruit two fresh troops of Israelites in Egypt, and there establish a recruiting and base depot for the Corps.

A considerable stir had been created throughout the Jewish world when it became known that there was, for the first time in British history, a Jewish unit fighting side by side with British soldiers; and there is no doubt that the sympathy of Jews for the Allies was considerably fostered by the presence of this unit fighting in their ranks.

In proof of this I received letters from Jews, and, indeed, from Gentiles, too, from all parts of the world, letters which showed a deep interest in, and sympathy for, this Jewish fighting unit.

Perhaps the most prominent Gentile from whom I heard was Colonel Roosevelt. I only wish I could publish his heartening letter, but at least I may mention that he was anxious to know if my men made good soldiers, because a relative of his was in command of a battery of artillery in one of the Southern States, and he had reported to the ex-President that, curiously enough, part of it was entirely composed of Jews, who were among the most efficient soldiers in the whole battery.

During my interview with Sir Ian Hamilton, I brought these facts to his knowledge, but I found that he was already well informed of the interest and sympathy which the Zion Mule Corps had aroused among the neutral Jews of the world, as he himself had received letters from prominent Israelites in America, and, among others, one from the editor of the New York Jewish newspaper, The Day, asking if such a unit really existed. Sir Ian Hamilton's reply, which appeared in The Day, is as follows:

It will therefore be seen that, in my endeavours to keep the Corps alive, I had a powerful ally in Sir Ian Hamilton.

I was the guest of the Headquarters Staff in Imbros for a few days, so that I had an opportunity of studying its ways at close quarters. There was certainly no slacking here. Work seemed to go on day and night, and the food and drink were almost spartan in their simplicity, practically nothing but the rations which were served out to the troops, officers and men alike.

I have heard some criticism levelled at the General for being camped away from the Army, on a secluded island, but, in my humble opinion, it was by far the best position for the Headquarters Staff and the Commander-in-Chief, because, owing to the unfortunate division of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force into two parts, he was more in touch, from Imbros, with Anzac and Helles than he could have been in any other place.

Of course, had the Army been all together, I think to be with it would be the right place for the Commander-in-Chief. It may suit the temperament of the Japanese soldier to have his chief hidden miles away from the battlefield, but I do not think that this plan fits in with the temperament of the British soldier. He likes to see his General, and he likes to know that his General sees him, and realises from personal contact the nature of the task he is asking his men to perform.

While I was at Imbros, I made an expedition across the island over hill and dale to the opposite shore, and it was curious to see the old-world way in which the Greeks, who inhabit the island, live in these modern, hustling days. There I saw two women grinding at the mill, and the oxen treading out the corn, just as they did thousands of years ago throughout all the lands of the East. I found the people hospitable and kindly, ready to offer the stranger a cool draught of water from a gushing spring (and this was really delicious after Gallipoli), or a platter of luscious mulberries, which were then in season.

But what, perhaps, interested me beyond all else was the view which, on my return journey, I obtained from the summit of a hill, of the position of the Turkish guns at the back of Achi Baba. With my glasses I could see them perfectly plainly, and could actually make out the gunners as they served the guns. With a powerful telescope this would have made a most excellent observation station, as all the Turkish movements at the back of Achi Baba could be plainly seen from this Imbros hill.

When I left Headquarters at Imbros I took passage on a trawler which called in at Anzac, where the Australian-New Zealand Army Corps were dug into the ridges.

I had, of course, a good view of the position they held on the precipitous cliffs and hills which rose in successive sierra-like ridges from the very seashore, and I could then adequately realise the tremendous feat they had performed in gaining a footing on these heights against such a brave and well-armed foe as the Turks.

I had met the Australians before in March, when I had paid them a visit in their romantic camping-ground under the shadow of the Pyramids, and it was in the same month that I met, on the verandah of Shepheard's Hotel, in Cairo, the chief medical officer to the Australian Army, Surgeon-General Williams, whom I had met in South Africa and London some fifteen years previously.

Thinking that he would remember me, I sat down beside him and opened the conversation by saying: "Any chance of a billet with you, General?"

He looked rather blankly at me and said: "Not a ghost of a chance unless you are an Australian. Who are you anyhow?"

I then told him who I was, upon which his face lit up with welcome, but he would not believe that I could be the same man, and asked me to remove my headgear so that he might have a good look at me, as he said I had grown ten years younger. "How do you manage to keep your youth?" he demanded.

"Oh," I replied, "it is easily done. An uneventful life and no worries," at which the General, knowing something of my travels and adventures, winked, ordered a couple of whiskies and sodas, and over these we had a long talk about things past, present and to come.

General Williams took me round the hospitals and kitchens out at Mena Camp, where we inspected the ambulances and other things under his charge, and I was much impressed with the completeness with which Australia had equipped the magnificent fighting force which she had sent to the aid of England.

It was a great pleasure to meet Colonel Ryan, a senior member of the Australian Medical Staff, who had served with the Turks as a surgeon in their last war against Russia and was with them all through the siege of Plevna. I had read his most interesting book describing his experiences in that war, and altogether I was delighted to have had the pleasure of meeting this most genial Irish Australian.

Camp life at Mena, for the thirty odd thousand men in training there, was very dull indeed. There was not much to relieve the monotony once the Pyramids had been climbed and the Australian colours had been planted on the summits, save an extra dose of sandstorm. It was no wonder, therefore, that every now and again the troops would invade Cairo in force and paint the city red; in fact, one night they painted it very red indeed, when they held a corroboree round the blazing ruins of a Cairene Courtesan's Temple, which they had given to the flames, because the Priestess had, in some way or other, maladministered the rites!

The Staff of the Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Force, commanded by General Birdwood, had their Headquarters at Shepheard's, and there I met again young Onslow, of the Indian Cavalry, the General's A. D. C., and one of the nicest and handsomest boys that ever buckled on a sabre. He was not only beloved of men, but the gods loved him, too, and it was a black day for me when I heard he was killed at Anzac.

I thought of all these things as I approached the little landing-stage on the Anzac shore, where, as we dropped anchor close to the beach, we got vigorously shelled by the Turks, whose guns, most artfully concealed, dominated the landing.

In the course of the eight months' sojourn there, these guns were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of the Australians and New Zealanders, who were killed while they worked at loading and unloading the stores and ammunition, which were constantly poured into Anzac. In spite of this shell-fire, all through the hot weather scores of men might be seen swimming about and thoroughly enjoying themselves in the water. A look-out man was kept and when he reported a shell coming all dived until the explosion was over.

There are many good stories told of the Australians and their want of reverence for the Staff and their love for the General.

On one occasion, while a dignified and very portly British Staff Officer, who had been having a swim, was drying himself, an Australian came by, and, giving him a hearty smack, said: "Hallo, old sport, you look about ready for the knife. Have you been getting into the biscuit-tin?"

Whatever the Australians may have lacked in what soldiers know as discipline and etiquette they more than made up for by their fearlessness and utter contempt of death in the fight. The very fact that they had gained a footing on these precipitous crags in the face of a desperate resistance showed that they were a race of supermen.

In vain did the Turks, time after time, hurl themselves at them in an attempt to drive them into the sea. The Turks would charge, crying: "Allah! Allah!" The Australians would respond by leaping on the parapets of their trenches, shouting: "Come on, you blighters, and bring him with you." They fear nothing—God, Man, Death, or Devil!

When we eventually plant our flag triumphantly on Gallipoli, the flag of Australia and New Zealand must float in the place of honour upon the Anzac peaks, for here, in their shadows, at peace forever, lie thousands of their bravest sons.

After a few hours my trawler weighed anchor and we steamed south for Helles, which we reached in a couple of hours.

The skipper was a north of Ireland man, and he told me much about the arduous life which the men in the trawlers and mine-sweepers led. During the first attack upon the Dardanelles some of these went through a perfect hell of shell-fire, in fact, right through the Narrows. For eight months, scores of them were constantly on the perilous work of mine-sweeping round Helles and the islands, or carrying troops to and fro; and all this time they were daily under fire, or, during the night, with all lights out, risking themselves and their vessels. More than one sweeper, with all its crew and living freight, came to a sad and sudden end through collision in the dark.

As we neared the landing-stage I spied a new kind of warship for the first time, and as we passed close to her I saw her elevate the muzzles of the two great guns with which she was armed and let fly a brace of shells at the enemy's batteries on Asia. This was the coming of the unsinkable Monitor, armed with her terrible fourteen-inch guns. I don't know how accurate her shots were, but the Turkish gunner who replied was a marvel, for, with his third shot, I saw him strike the deck of the Monitor plump amidships. I heard afterwards that this shell went through all the decks and stuck in the keel plate. By a great piece of good luck no damage was done, as it did not explode.

When I reached the camp of my Zion men I held a parade and told them how interested Sir Ian Hamilton was in the Corps, and how he wished it to be kept up, and with that view had ordered me to proceed to Alexandria to recruit two new troops of their co-religionists. I asked them all to be good boys while I was away, and to work as well for Lieutenant Gye, who would command them in my absence, as they had always worked for me, and in this way keep up the reputation of the Zion Corps.