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Just before dawn on August 7, 1915, the men of the 8th and 10th Australian Light Horse Regiments waited in silence on a narrow strip of Turkish soil known as the Nek. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the dark, clutching rifles with bayonets fixed, their nerves tight as piano wire. In the trenches behind them, mates shared final words, quick prayers, a letter home folded into a breast pocket. Some kissed crucifixes, others stared ahead into the blackness, hearts thudding. Then, as the first grey wash of light crept over the ridgeline, the whistle blew.
They went over the top in lines - neat, ordered, hopeless. They charged not into glory, but into annihilation. Within minutes, dozens lay dead, cut down by Turkish machine guns positioned just yards away. Still the whistle blew again. And again. And again.
The Battle of the Nek would last less than an hour. It would leave nearly 400 men killed or wounded. It would never achieve its objective. And yet, in the years that followed, it would be remembered with honour and grief....as a moment when courage met catastrophe, and where the cost of obedience was paid in blood.
read the article in full....
https://patriotrealm.com/index.....php/4087-the-whistl
