once, and few fired less than fifteen aimed rounds to the minute. The
execution was awful. The attacking force reeled and writhed like a monster
in agony.

But the officers behind, in their ugly greenish-gray German uniforms,
drove them forward, and though the leading files fell by scores the rest
swept onwards. To his dismay, Ken saw more pouring out behind in support.
The odds were at least ten to one. It was impossible to withstand such an
attack in the open.

Colonel Conway knew it too. Next moment the whistles shrilled again,
giving the order to retire.

Slowly the men began to fall back. Their steadiness was wonderful. Raw
troops can be trusted to charge, but, as a rule, it takes veterans to
retire successfully. These Australians, hardly one of whom had ever been
under fire before the previous night, retreated in such magnificent order
as made their officers' hearts thrill with admiration.

Every bit of cover was made full use of, the men dropping and firing, then
rising again, and gliding back to the next stone or bush. They lost, of
course--lost heavily--but for each Australian who fell, four Turks went
down.

Ken, dodging and shooting with the best, still managed to keep an eye on
his two friends, and saw with relief that neither was hit. Slowly they
worked back until they were within fifty yards of their trench.

Here was open ground with practically no cover at all.