Mechanical Death moved back and forth. It whistled and screamed and
crashed. It spat fire, and unfolded puffs of grey and white and black
smoke. It flashed tongues of livid flame, like some devilish ant-eater
lapping up its insects . . . and the insects were the sons of men.

Mechanical Death, as we saw him at work, was hard and metallic, steel-
studded and shrapnel-toothed. Now and then he bristled with bayonets,
and they glittered here and there in tiny groups, and charged up the
rocks and through the bushes.

The noise increased. Mechanical Death worked first on our side, and
then with the Turks. He led forward a squad, and the next instant
mowed them down with a hail of lead. He galloped up a battery,
unlimbered--and before the first shell could be rammed home Mechanical
Death blew the whole lot up with a high explosive from a Turkish
battery in the hills.

And so it went on hour after hour. Crackle, rattle and roar; scream,
whistle and crash. We stood there on the deck watching men get killed.
Now and then a shell came wailing and moaning across the bay, and
dropped into the water with a great column of spray glittering in the
early morning sunshine. A German Taube buzzed overhead; the hum-hum-
hum of the engine was very loud. She dropped several bombs, but none
of them did much damage. The little yellow-skinned observation balloon
floated above one of our battleships like a penny toy. The Turks had
several shots at it, but missed it every time.

The incessant noise of battle grew more distant as our troops on shore
advanced. It broke out like a bush-fire, and spread from one section
to another. Mechanical Death pressed forward across the Salt Lake. It