THE NEW ZEALANDERS ON GALLIPOLI.

Otago Witness, Issue 3214, 20 October 1915, Page 50

THE NEW ZEALANDERS ON GALLIPOLI.

CONTINUED TRENCH WARFARE. STILL HOLDING THEIR GROUND. (From Malcolm Ross, War Correspondent with the New Zealand Forces.) July 24. Since my last letter was despatched there lias been no material change m the eduation and Turks and Australians arc facing each other in the trenches they have occupied for some time past, ihe tions at Quinn’s and Courtney s continue , to bo the most interesting. Inaecd, tn-y are fascinating, for, as has already boon - stated, they are really unique in warUie. As you walk through trench after tienen and sap after sap at Quinn s, or creep doubled up along the dark mining galleries, your interest is quickened, and thougn jou never quite know when a bomb will come hurtling over the parapet, or when a mine may be exploded above or below or at th eide, you become so interested that tear vanishes. The genial colonel who is m charge and who shows you round y> as , , a well-known Taranaki barrister, _ and nis motto is that the art of war lies m the cultivation of the domestic virtues. Therefore he is transforming Quinn’s into a _ model workshop and dwelling-place, wherein you can even drink a cup of tea in peace. Seriously speaking, he has worked wonders at Quinn’s, and the Quinn’s of to-day is safer and more habitable than was the poet of earlier days. It is only when the gallant colonel gets one of his men to throw a bomb across the very few yards of intervening space between you and the Turkish firing line, and there is a loud explosion, the while you wait expectantly for a like favour from the that you realise you are “up against it.” It is a still stranger sensation at the end of _a narrow, dark tunnel to listen to some solitary Turk working industriously with his pick only a few feet away from where you are crouching. As you hear him tap-tap-ping like a woodpecker in a hollow tree you begin to wonder what ho is thinking about and what will bo the end of all his hard, uncomfortable labour. Generally speaking, it is th© miner, and not the counter-miner, who wins out in the end in these attacking operations. This particular fellow has had his tunnel blown in upon him three times, yet here he is again picking a\. ay in the hope of undermining our position. DEAD TURKS. Another important post that is interesting is held Hy the New Zealanders and a section of the Australian Light Horse. Here you find yourself in a perfect labyrinth of deep trenches, with, at intervals, sandbagged parapets. The po.. ’cion is in charge of a brigadier-general well known in the Hawke’s Bay district. Deeply-carved shelters are out into the earth from the trenches, and in these the men can rest and sleep in safety, if not in comfort. Along the trenches are little niches, such as you might see in a church wall for sacred images. These, with their blackened clay, are the little recesses where, under tiny fires, the men do their cooking in their “dixies.” You come upon “Main street,” and “Broadway,” and “White lane,” and one sign points to “ Happy Valley,” which is, no doubt, a haven of rest for weary troops. All this is on Russell’s Top—a prolongation of Walker’s Ridge. - Telephone wires and barbed-wire and wire netting enter into the scheme of defence. The trenches are clean but the smell of the dead killed in the last Turkish attack still hangs about them. Wc have come to a place where we are within a few yards of the enemy’s rifles, and you dare not show an inch or two of your head above the parapet for fear of being sniped Our friend the enemy has to bo equally careful. Wo take a peri, scope, and, putting the top glass above the trench, carefully examine the Turkish position. Between our trench and theirs are a number of empty tins that the Turks have thrown away, and in amongst these, and quite near ns, are some strange little heaps that look like the discarded clothes of a number of tramps. Looking at them more intently, you note that some of the ragged bundles have just a suggestion of human shape. They cover the bodies of dead Turks, the attenuation of which in this everlasting hot summer sun proceeds somewhat rapidly, if unpleasantly. They are the remains of Turks shot down in the last attack, and neither side dare go out to bring the bodies in or to bury them. | In the end they will become skeletons, and ■ eventually one side or the other, after an ; advance, will gather the little heaps together, and consign them to a common, shallow grave A WOUNDED TURK. It was at this spot, some few days ago, that one of our staff —a member of the House of Commons —did rather a daring thing. A wounded Turk had lain for some time in front of our trench, and our men dared not go out to make him prisoner, nor his friends to rescue him. The M.P., who speaks Turkish, essayed the task, and brought the man into our lines. . A BUGLER BOY. The other day some of our men came 1 upon a small skeleton beyond one of our trenches. The identification ebso showed that the khaki uniform contained the mortal remains of a bugler of the Canterbury Regiment. Ho had been posted as missing. The remains were gathered together, and Now Zealand soldiers gave him decent burial on the hills of Gallipoli, far away from his home and his native land. lb was strange that this boy had not been discovered before, especially during the armistice. Poor lad, lie must have fallen nobly in the front line during those critical days when our men gained a footing, and held thier ground. _ _ I From another. position wc gain a glorious view across a bib of level land and a beautiful curving bay to Suvla Point. The sea is a deep blue. Irnbros and Samothrace lie nob far across the water in the haze ‘of a summer noon. Hero, for the first time, our Maori friends have come into the fixing lino._ They look fit and well, and their discipline is good. At any moment they may bo called upon to defend their lines or to make an advance against the enemy. The colonel in command is confident.that they will fulfil the traditions of their race. ,