In every fold and behind every anthill the Irishmen lay thick and waited for better times.

There are many instances of their cheery and uncomplaining humour.

Colonel Brooke, of the Connaughts, fell at the head of his men.

Private Livingstone helped to carry him into safety, and then, his task done, he confessed to having 'a bit of a rap meself,' and sank fainting with a bullet through his throat.

Another sat with a bullet through both legs.