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Article Illustrated - The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld. : 1872 - 1947)Saturday 18 December 1915 - Page 13

Sergeant A. O. Stewart of the 25th Battalion, writing to his father. Mr. Thomas Stewart, of Allan and Stark, says:— I will tell you of some very narrow escapes we had up on a hill on the second night of our arrival. I had been sitting in my dug-out with another one of my section, when the Turks began to shell us with shrapnel, which made things pretty hot. I was called out to get some rations for a few men, who had come in from sapping, and that saved me from getting knocked about. I hardly got clear of my place when there was a loud report which gave me a good start. After fixing up the men I went back, although the shrapnel still was flying about. I might, mention that I had taken off m tunic before going out and had laid it on the top of my blankets, which were laid out on the ground. Imagine my surprise, but good luck, to find bullet holes all through m tunic, blankets, and overcoat and my gun blown nearly to pieces. One of my men was living in the dug-out at the time, opening a tin of milk, whilst another one was waiting for his share of it. The chap standing outside was hit in the arm (not a bad wound), whilst the one in the dug-out was not touched, although he was lying, just next to my coat. Another one of our chaps had just received two letters, and had one un-opened in his hand, and the other opened, which lie was reading, when, bang, went another shell: and to his surprise took the corner of the unopened letter above his wrist, and the corner of below his wrist, whilst the one he was reading was torn to pieces, and he himself was not touched.
The other two boys that were hit were outside cooking bacon, and each of them was hit through the legs. This all happened not more than three yards from my dug-out, and as there was a fair amount of men about- there, you can see that we were extremely lucky.
October, 1915 — It is now five weeks since' our arrival at the peninsula, and I am still alive and kicking. We have now been one week in the first line of trenches (that is the firing line), and have only seen the Turks on one occasion. I was asked, to go out on patrol on Monday- night, to try, and discover .what the enemy were up to. It is a bit of a nerve-racking job, as you get out over the parapet, and then crawl on your hands and knees over tins, prickles and dead bodies, until you get within about eight yards of the enemy’s trenches. When you arc crawling I along you either knock against a tin with your rifle or boot, and it kicks up a row and you have to lie pretty low as you never know how near you are to their patrol. The night I went out I had got over the worst part of ground, and was lying down listening, when I heard a tin kicked lust to the rear of me and also heard some twigs crack directly ahead of me, so I knew I was between their, two patrols. Anyway we were the lucky ones tins time, as we saw them before they saw us and as we were carrying bombs with us we soon made the place too hot-for them so that we were able to discover what we were sent out for.
We arrived back safe in our trenches after being out for a couple of hours, and were not sorry to get back as ones nerves are on edge all the time and the stench from the dead bodies is not by any means nice. Anyway we were told that we had to make another trip three hours later, which we did and also made a success of. We arrived back from the run about an hour before daylight and it was when in the trench that my section received its second casualty. One of mv men and myself were standing up exposed over the parapet, firing, and I had just said to him "we will fire this shot for the last, as it is getting a bit too light, and we can be seen too easily as we are on the sky line" so both of us fired together, and as we were standing within a foot of each other could easily see the others movements. He and I went to get down, when I heard a groan. I dropped my rifle and. caught him just as he was falling. It was a shock for me, I can tell you as he never spoke again. The bullet passing through him from just under the left armpit, and coming out at almost the same position under his right arm. The poor chap had gone under doing his part for his King and country.