dust of the greatest of our citizens, whose title to suffrage had been
purchased by the last supreme sacrifice. Never were men asked to do a
harder thing than this--to leave the bones of their comrades to fall
into alien hands. These were men white of face and with clenched fists
that filed past those wooden crosses and few who did not feel shame at
the desertion. Some there were who whispered to the spirits hovering
near an appeal for understanding and forgiveness. They wondered how
the worshippers of the Crescent would treat the dead resting beneath
the symbols that to them represented an accursed infidel faith. There
are cravens in Australia who suggest that she has done more than her
share in this struggle, but while one foot of soil that has been
hallowed by Australian blood remains in the hands of the enemy the man
who would withhold one man or one shilling is not only no true
Australian but no true man--a dastard and a traitor.

When peace shall dawn and the Turk shall heed the voice of United
Democracy as it proclaims with force, "Thou shall not oppress, nor
shalt thou close the gates of these straits again!" then shall visitors
from many lands wander through these trenches and marvel what kind of
men were they that held them for so long against such odds, and gaze at
the honeycombed cliff where twentieth-century men lived like
cave-dwellers, and sang and joked more than the abiders in halls of
luxury.

To-day the name Anzac is the envy of all other soldiers, and while none
would want to live that life again, every man who was there rejoices in
the memory of the association and comradeship of those days. Read the
"Anzac Book" and you will see that there was much talent and many a
spark of genius in that army. But only those who were there know of
the many busy brains that worked overtime devising improvements in the