Chapter 3

6192 Words

Gully Ravine, Gallipoli 28 June 1915 It was hot. Major Andrew Selkirk of the Royal Borderers smoothed a hand over his forehead and ducked as the movement brought an instant response from a Turkish sniper. The bullet smacked into the sandbag behind his head, so a small trickle of sand eased out. "I thought our artillery would keep Jacko"s heads down," Lieutenant Turnbull sounded nervous. Selkirk looked at him. "It seems that Jacko Turk has other ideas." The British guns fired non-stop, pounding the Turkish positions on either side of the ridge. Dust, smoke and the stink of lyddite filled the air. Selkirk narrowed his eyes at the evil orange petals of explosions and the occasional chunk of rock thrown high above the ground. "There shouldn"t be anything left after that," Turnbull sounded

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