"Proosic acid," Doolan muttered, giving Claud a nudge. 

 "You've got a bad liver to-day, Bill. I think you've been drinking the Gippies' firewater. I thought the old parson had got you to sign the pledge." 

 "Who could sign the pledge in an 'ole like this? It's sand and flies, flies and sand, C.B., bully beef, jam, and No. 9 pills. Wot a life!" concluded Bill, relapsing into silence. They left him alone. It was Bill's "off day."  He would come round again. 

 Bill's attitude at that period of the war represented the feelings of many a Tommy in the Australian and New Zealand forces. These men, accustomed to the life of freedom, action, and the daily use of initiative, cursed the seemingly endless days of drill, shooting, marching, manoeuvring, with the firm discipline and immediate punishment when rules were ignored. Eight long months of this was their lot, and during that time there seemed little prospect of their seeing war. It was a hard test. 

 To them it seemed a cruel test. The younger and more inexperienced thought it useless and a waste of time, but the officers understood the reason why. It was Kitchener's way.  "K" knew that these men were the finest fighters in the world. But to get the fullest value for their courage he realised that training and discipline, discipline, discipline was absolutely essential. Every officer of the General Staff expected them to curse and kick. The Staff also assumed that, in the end, the Australians' true sense of justice would compel them to admit that all this "suffering" would make them infinitely superior to any Australian units which had hitherto shared in fighting for the Motherland. This is exactly what did occur. Kitchener was, therefore, right! Kitchener is always right. 

 The Australian column had reached its rendezvous. While the men were resting, General Fearless, the Australian G.O.C., was issuing his orders to the Brigade Commanders. 

 "Gentlemen," he said, "the General Idea is that the Red Force, composed of the Lancashire Division, holds the ridge of sand hills which dominate the road to Cairo. We, who represent the Blue Force, have orders to make a reconnaissance in force. That means that we must so manoeuvre our units as to draw the enemy's fire, and, if possible, reveal his position, his strength, and the weakest point in his line. This, let me tell you, is not exactly an offensive movement. It is a drawing game. That must be distinctly understood. Of course, in such a 

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