The Kangaroo Marines Part 14

Periscopes are life-savers, for the periscope prevents a man pus.h.i.+ng his head above the parapet to see if Johnny Turk is coming over to say "Good morning." Something had to be done, so the famous quartette began to cudgel their brains.

"I've got it," said Claud, picking up a walking-stick.

"Got what," inquired Bill.

"An idea--you watch." Taking a penknife out of his pocket, he deftly and quickly cut away the inner portion of the stick. This kept him busy for a couple of hours. When finished, he took a little pocket mirror out of his haversack.

"Too big," said Bill.

"No, it isn't," answered Claud, slipping a diamond ring off his finger.

He scratched the mirror, then cut two pieces out of it. These he fixed into the walking-stick. "There you are now--a brand new periscope."

And it proved just the thing. The field of vision was quite good.

Being small it did not attract attention. The result of this discovery was that every officer's stick was immediately commandeered, and with the aid of Claud's ring and other people's mirrors, a good supply of periscopes were made.

"You think you're smart fellers, I suppose," said Bill, his envy roused by this success. "But I'll show you fellers something in a day or two."

"What is it?"

"'Wait and see,' as old Asquith says." For the next few days Bill was seen in close communion with a fellow Australian. They went about the trenches picking up bits of wood, nails, mirrors, and other odds and ends. These were carried into the little hole of the inventive genius, and there all gradually saw the growth of a wonderful invention. It wasn't Bill's idea exactly. He was simply the managing director, who stimulated curiosity, and fetched the mysterious genius the necessary supplies of material. Anyone who ventured too near the sacred sanctum was told to "hop it."

"What's that ould rascal doin'?" Paddy remarked one day.

"A bomb-thrower," said Sandy.

"Barbed wire burster," suggested Claud.

"No, it ain't," interjected Bill, who happened to come along at the time.

"What is it, then?"

"It's a man-killer. You can sit down in yer bed and kill all the ole Turks in front. They can't see who's killin' them."

"When do you try it?"

"To-day." And he did. That afternoon the inventor allowed Bill to have the trial shot. The instrument, in brief, was a periscope rifle.

With the aid of an ordinary rifle, mirrors and wood fixed up in a rough, but ingenious way, there had been produced a killing instrument, which allowed the user to see and to kill without being seen. This was a G.o.dsend, for many of the casualties at this post were due to men aiming through the loopholes or over the parapet.

"Here goes," said Bill, fixing the rifle in position.

"See anything?"

"Yes, a big feller. I'll get him in his ole fat head." Slowly and steadily he took aim, then bang went his rifle.

"Got him! Got him! Right in his coconut," shouted Bill with a grim delight.

The invention was hailed as a great success, and the inventor complimented all round. His orders were many, and his instrument soon became general throughout the whole line. Indeed, it was owing to this wonderful invention that the rifle fire of the Turks was again subdued to a remarkable extent.

Other remarkable things were invented by these resourceful fellows.

The General Staff also supplied them with new machines of war. One of the finest was the j.a.panese bomb-thrower, an instrument which threw a great, big bomb like a well-filled melon. This went tumbling over and over, like an acrobat doing a somersault, then burst in the most startling way. The explosion was terrific and destruction amazing.

Parapets, trenches, men and Maxims were all destroyed if near the point of contact. "_Some_ bomb!" as the boys said.

In this sort of warfare it is always the progressive and alert man who wins. It is useless sitting down and grousing. Every means, every trick is justifiable so long as the methods are fair and according to the rules of war. When the history of this war is written special attention ought to be devoted to the many devices which have been employed by the soldier. For example, the Turks opposite to The Kangaroos were always sapping towards the Australasian lines. This was a nuisance. The constant pick! pick! pick! upset everybody. Night after night these Turkish moles had to be bombed away. One evening a sapping party recommenced operations quite near to Claud and his friends.

"At it again," Bill remarked.

"Yes, they're a beastly nuisance, I'll have to worry them a bit," said Claud, picking up a little paper bag. He fixed a piece of thin white string round it, then jumped over the parapet. It was quite dark, so he was perfectly safe. Crawling on his hands and knees, he at last reached within ten yards of the sapping Turks. For a few minutes he lay still. His eyes got used to the darkness, enabling him to get a glimpse of the diggers. Pulling out the paper bag, he threw it smartly towards the hole. It burst on the edge of the parapet and the contents scattered all round. Claud waited.

Aitchoo! went one.

Aitchoo! went another.

Aitchoo! went a third.

Aitchoo! Aitchoo! Aitchoo! sneezed all the Turks between their oriental grunts and curses.

Claud burst out laughing and so gave himself away. A head popped out of the hole. Claud was seen. Down it went, and up came a rifle, but before the Turk could fire, Claud, who had a couple of bombs prepared, flung them into the hole. There was a loud bang! bang! followed by a series of shouts, shrieks and moans. The sapping party fled for their lives. This was as Claud desired, so he quietly crawled back to his trench.

"Got 'em that time, Dufair," said an officer as he tumbled in.

"Yes, sir."

"By the way, what was all the sneezing about?"

"A little trick, sir," laughed Claud.

"Was it snuff you chucked at them?"

"No, common or garden pepper, issued with the rations."

"Good," said the officer pursuing his rounds.

Now it was on this same evening that Paddy Doolan roused the whole regiment to a state of alarm. He was on sentry go on the extreme left of his regiment's line. Being dark, Paddy began to feel the effects of things supernatural. Every sound, every moving leaf or blade was a Turk. He had fired at a few nothings, and during a spell of silence he was amazed to hear on his left a chattering in a strange tongue.

"Turks, be Jasus, they're in our trenches. Mother of Mary, preserve us," said Paddy, crossing himself. He listened again. They were chanting a weird dirge. It was something between a Highland lament and a Hindoo snake song. Paddy was amazed. Life seemed to be a shorter affair, and he pictured himself lying dead on the parapet with his throat cut. His teeth were chattering, and his nerves on the run. At last he managed to bellow out, "Stand to!" The half-sleeping men jumped to their rifles and waited below the parapet.

"What's up, Doolan?" said the officer on reaching them.

"Turks in our trenches, sor. Heaven preserve us."

"Where?"

"There, sor! There, sor! Listen to them."

The officer listened. He heard the weird chanting. It wasn't English, it didn't seem Turkish. What on earth was it, he wondered. At last he made up his mind.

"Here, six of you fix bayonets, follow me," and down the communication trench he crouched and crawled towards the left. They now neared the weird chanting noise. The officer c.o.c.ked his revolver and whispered back, "Get ready, boys." Then, das.h.i.+ng round a bend, he burst on to a dark-skinned group.

"Hands up!" he shouted.