Part 11
His next dissertation was on the Koran. But theology doesn’t appeal much to soldiers. Padres have reduced their services to a maximum of twenty minutes. Before long our astute guide recognised a necessity of a change of subject. He gave us riddles—_the_ riddle of the Sphinx: How one could divide equally between two men a ten-gallon flask of water with only three-and seven-gallon flasks to do it with. The best of us took nine moves to do it in; Mahomed did it in five—and looked humble. Then he gave us another: Four men and their wives are on one side of the Nile, and have to pass over to the other; but their jealousy will not allow any man to be alone with a lady not his wife. Mahomed threw this problem at us with an air of triumph. There was the boat, there were the four men, there were the four wives, there was the Nile.
The Nile was certainly there, and our puffing, stodgy steamer had gone two or three miles before we gave it up. We did give it up. Mahomed manipulated the ladies and their spouses with ease, landed each on the other side, all conventions being strictly observed.
Then the Pyramids came into view. We were rather tired of the Pyramids. But the guide wasn’t. What would a guide be without Pyramids—or the Pyramids without guides? So we heard again all their history. Each new Mahomed throws in a thousand years or two more or less. But what is a thousand years in Egypt?
We were tiring of the Pyramids. Mahomed started on the other bank—Napoleon, Napoleon’s towers, Napoleon’s granaries, Napoleon’s fortifications.
Now there is a limit to all things. We could stand Moses Island; we could listen to the accounts of Pharaohs, Pyramids, Sphinxes, and Mrs. Sphinxes. But Napoleon! Napoleon hadn’t even known Australia.
However, Mahomed was wound up. He was inspired. He was even intrepid. What if the infidel dogs did cut down his baksheesh; they should have the whole story. So the British (and the Australasians) in Egypt went to the wall. Napoleon reigned. He got it all.
It was then that our youngest subaltern put in an easy under-arm, and Mahomed hit out!
“Yes, we know all that about Napoleon,” said the sub., “but what about Sir George Reid?”
We waited breathless. Was it a boundary hit or a catch at point?
“Oh,” said Mahomed, “I know all about Saint George Reid. He a great man. There is his mound over there.”
“Ah!” we exclaimed. And then, with happy inspiration, someone asked, “Is he dead?”
“Oh, yes; dead a hundred years. Saint George Reid, a very good and great man. He has a fine tomb. If a sick man goes there, he gets cured quickly.”
We tipped Mahomed generously.
C.
2. ANZAC IN ALEX
I hardly think old Benci’s little wineshop in Alexandria will be known to many of the A.N.Z.A.C., or to many Alexandrians for that matter. But in case any of you find yourselves ever in Alexandria again, this is how you will discover it:
Standing at the head of the Rue Cherif Pacha—everyone in Alexandria knows the Rue Cherif Pacha who knows anything at all about the place—with the Kodak Company’s fine shop on your right hand and His Britannic Majesty’s fine Caracol on your left, you could reach it in three bomb-throws, if the last of the three happened to be a “googly” and swerved in from the off, just round the corner into the Rue Attarine. So, you see, it is right opposite the Attarine Mosque; and as you sit of an evening at Benci’s doorway, smoking his cigarettes, with his wine at your elbow, and watch the motley, polyglot crowd ceaselessly passing, you have your eyes always coming back to the carved and inlaid door of the old temple, and up the graceful minaret into the great lift of a night sky glorious with such liquid gold of stars that memory of herself will take you back to many a mellow night when stars of even more melting loveliness bent above you in your own homeland down South.
But you never saw such a restless crowd in an Australian or New Zealand street as this double line of dapper Europeans and of sallow Egyptians, Syrians, Armenians and hungry-looking Greeks, threading the low swirl of khaki tunics and Arab rags. And ever and anon the stream ebbs before your “garry-driver’s” long-drawn “Haa-sib” (mind out), to let pass some official dignitary or some riotous party of Kangaroos, or some handsome, red-tabbed officer of the regular staff, or maybe ’tis an even more handsome and stalwart private of the ranks, beside some dear, dainty, winsome thing under one of those little fly-away hats, with that dark kiss-curl clinging close to her cheek—you know exactly the kind of maid and the kind of curl I mean.
And still the tall, quiet minaret and the broad, quiet heaven seem to lean together; and one grows pensive sitting at Benci’s narrow door of a summer evening.
Old Benci himself is a brisk little Italian, doubtless of middle age. I think it must have been as a mark of affection that we called him “Old Benci,” for his hair still keeps something of its youthful brown. He has not a word of English and about two of French, but you know at once from his open, sunny face that, like most of his compatriots, he has a heart of gold; and, at a price to fit a ranker’s pocket, he keeps a Chianti that is first-rate.
It was Tillett who found him for us. Tillett is a New Zealand Medical Corps man, grey-headed, full of years and the experience they have brought him; equally at ease in French, Italian and Spanish from his early life on the Continent, and a dabbler in Greek and German by way of diversion; but so quiet and unassuming withal, and so rarely confidential about himself and his affairs, that we knew little of him beyond that he was at that time doing odd jobs of healing for the drivers of a New Zealand battery withdrawn from the Peninsula. For us he was a most likeable chap, an excellent interpreter when our mediocre French failed, and—his chief merit—the discoverer of Benci and his tavern. With a palate tormented by stewed tea and the heavy canteen beer beloved of the yokels of Old England, he had traversed wellnigh every quarter of Alexandria in vain quest of the cheap and honest draught wine that he knew must be there somewhere, and yet must be neither that so very “ordinaire” red wine of France, nor yet the wretched “health wines” of Greece, that carry in their tang memories of the physician and the sick-bed of our pre-war days. And between him and Old Benci there had grown up quite a sincere affection, apart altogether from Chianti at P.T. 1 per glass.
It was delightful, the pantomime that went on whenever any of us arrived without Tillett. With a countenance full of anxious solicitude, Benci would point vaguely out into the night, carry his forefinger to his own grey head, and then up would go his eyebrows in interrogation. This we knew to mean, “Where is our friend of the grey hair that you are here to-night without him?” And one of us would answer by laying his face to the table and snoring heavily or in mimic sentry-go along the passage. Oh, but it was good to see the smile that broke and beamed across his honest face, with his pleasure at finding himself intelligible to his country’s allies.
The rest of these allies, so far as our coterie was concerned, were a sergeant of the Ceylon Tea-planters, back from Gallipoli in charge of his company’s horses, and a Maori of that gallant, reckless band whose “Komaté! Komaté!” rang along those hills in August—well-born and well-educated, in physique strong and solid, but with movements as quick and sure as a cat’s. In this tanned army only the full lips and the slightly flattened nose betrayed his origin.
He and I had been friends at the same New Zealand ’varsity, but, like so many of the best of his race, he was no “sticker,” and in the third year of his medical course he had side-tracked himself on troubled studies of mind and consciousness and refused to carry on with his dull public health and medical jurisprudence. Since leaving ’varsity he had been living on his means, he told me, spending most of his time in wandering. Napier, the tea-planter of Ceylon, was your well-bred, clean-limbed, rather aggressively healthy-minded young Englishman.
These three, at any rate, were the centre of that bright little knot of friends that, in a three months’ stay in Alexandria, had drifted and stuck together in a community of tastes and ideas and downright liking for one another. And though one or other of us might be held by night pickets, or C.B., or on visits to our hospitable French and Italian friends, yet on any night of the week, from seven till midnight, you would find two or three of us forgathered at the back of the little shop in the shadow of the great black casks and behind the wooden grille that, while allowing us from the dim interior a clear view of the street, yet shut us off effectively from the eyes of the night patrol. For it was before Sir John Maxwell’s “Iron Law of closing time” that we held our revelry _chez_ Benci, and it was safe to wager that something was amiss if we went home by any but the 1.10 A.M. tram for Ramleh, or by carriage even later.
But those were our palmy days in Alexandria—the days before the swarm of Tommies came, and our pockets began to empty, and an officious picket in the fullness of its own importance went farther afield than Sisters Street and patrolled the whole town in its lumbering motor-wagons....
L. J. IVORY, 4th Howitzer Battery N.Z.F.A.
Old pipe! old comrade! friend o’ mine, Have I then made you sad? Or is it just That you and I’ve been drinking wine, Embittered by this dull grey day; or must It be that you too know That smoke and hopes “grey” both may go?
Grey smoke of yours, grey thoughts o’ mine, Seem strangely both in one accord to-day. Perhaps it is that croon-song of the pine, Recalling memories dear and far away— Or is it that this grey day’s mystic spell Foretells the end of hope and smoke in Hell?
Ah, no! old pipe, methinks this grey day came To temper such as you and I to stand The small and weary problems of life’s game, And learn to cheer another one, whose hand Has groped in vain, and vainly gropes For better things than grey-like smoke and greyer hopes.
R. G. N., 11th Aust. A.S.C.
A WAIL FROM ORDNANCE
We’re only in the Ordience, Not troopers of the line; We don’t attack no enemy, Nor in the papers shine. We just wait here from morn till night, Expectin’ these ’ere shells That makes our lives, what were so bright, So many earthly ’ells.
We ’and out underpants and socks, And boots and coats galore, To them as gives and takes hard knocks An’ soon gets used to war. We keep their clothing up to dick, Equip and arm ’em, too; We rig out the returning sick _Almost_ as good as new.
They blew us from our depot south A bit along the beach, We humped our blueys, nothing loath, And settled out of reach. Our store grew large and prosperous, We laughed at Turk and Hun, Until they trained on us one day A blasted four-point-one.
Each morning they put in a few To bring us from our beds, From time to time the whole day through They make us duck our heads. One eye is cocked for cover, And one ear is for the whiz, An’, until the fuss is over, we Postpone our daily biz.
Now, when the war is over, And we return to peace, Though we may live in clover, Enjoying lives of ease— A striking clock will wake us, A blow-out make us run, And cry again our old refrain: “Gott straf’ that four-point-one!”
Lieut. KININMONTH, A.O.C.
THE BOOK OF ANZAC CHRONICLES
1. THE FLOOD
And it came to pass that King Hun called together his mighty men and said unto them:
2. “Behold I have dreamed a dream, and the Gott of Boasts hath appeared unto me and said:
3. “‘Bring together all your ships of the sea, your wealth of the land, and your mighty men of valour, including your first-born.
4. “‘For I say unto you, now is The Day.
5. “‘Ye shall go forth to battle against the kingdoms of the earth to wage war against all who do not bow down to thee and call thee “_The_ One.”
6. “‘For I have decreed that thou shalt rule the earth to the uttermost corners of it.
7. “‘Let thou and thy son take but six days’ rations in your haversacks, for on the seventh day thou shalt dine at the Palace of the Buckinghamites with the King of the Allyites as thy mess orderly.
8. “‘Forget not thy pomade nor thy tooth-brush, neither shalt thou leave behind thy gases nor thine iron rations, for thou mayest have need of them.
9. “‘And go ye forth to kill and plunder; spare none, but put all to the sword; and put your trust in yourself alone—and—er, myself, if it so please thee.
10. “‘For this is The Day.’”
11. And all his mighty men bowed down to him and said: “O King, live for ever; verily thou hast truly said, and thy kingdom shall extend to the ends of the earth and the heavens and to the depths of the sea.”
12. So King Hun blew his bags out, smote him on the chest, and called aloud, saying, “I am IT.”
13. And the same day he brought together all his legions of men and his ships of the sea and all the wealth of the land: for they were all ready.
14. And they counted and found umpteen million men of valour, two ships, seventeen anchors, fourteen shillings and fivepence in gold, umpteen billion rolls of paper money and ennygottsquantitee gas.
15. But they left the two ships at home, fastened to the seventeen anchors.
16. And the King-of-all-the-Huns said, “It is enough, IMSHEE!”[22]
17. So they imsheed.
18. Now, it came to pass that the Huns ran amok both East and West, North and South, and their cry was “Strafe!” and “Ber-lud!” and they got both in abundance.
19. For they threw themselves on the neighbouring villages, breaking through the back gate without warning, and slaying the watchdog and the pig, the husbandman and his wife, the baby and the nurse, the cat and the canary.
20. Nor even did the Boy-about-the-place have time to reach his air-gun from off the shelf; for the Mad Mass tarried not to wipe its sword, but only to quench its blood-lust and its thirst.
21. And when they had laid waste all that land, they boiled over into the next.
22. But it came to pass that by this time the cries of murder and children in torment had reached far and wide, and before another sun had set two men met the horde of Huns.
23. And the Huns lifted up their bleary eyes and asked, “Gott strafe, but who vas dis dat do dry stob our leedle game?”
24. And the Man-from-the-west with the strong arm and the iron jaw proclaimed to the multitude,
25. “I am K. of K., and THIS IS THE END OF THE SECTION.”
26. And the Butchers all lifted up their voices with one accord, saying, “Gott sh-sh-traf,” and “Hic, Ber-lud.”
27. But the Huns stopped, yea, verily.
28. And so it came to pass that the King of the Huns dined not at the Palace of the Buckinghamites with the King of the Allyites as his mess orderly—neither on the sixth day nor in the sixth year.
29. But the King of the Huns and Little Willie ate their iron rations instead.
30. And the flood was over the face of the earth for many days and many nights till the Mighty Winds arose and drove it back.
31. And behold, the King of the Huns said unto himself, “Verily, it was a dream, and instead of ‘The Day’ is now nothing but ‘The Night.’”
32. So he fell asleep.
33. And great was the fall thereof.
GENESIS GALLIPOLI.
2. THE BOOK OF JOBS
And it came to pass that on the seventh day of the week of the fourth month of the year, being the twenty-fifth Sunday after the Melbourne Cup, there journeyed forth from the land of the Greeks, yclept Lemnos, a mighty host.
2. And “Birdy” commanded them, saying, “Take from the Turks the land of Gallipoli, that we may occupy it. Possess yourselves also of the command of the Narrows, that all who are free may enter.”
3. Therefore, the Colonels, Majors and Captains took heed, and after much lengthy pow-wowing issued to their men this edict: “Hear ye, men of Australia and New Zealand, what the ‘Boss’ hath commanded. Ye shall girdle yourselves about with ammunition, and, after landing as seems meetest, make assault upon the hills and valleys of Gallipoli, which the sons of Abdul do hold to our detriment.”
4. To the Ninth, and the Tenth, and the Eleventh, and the Twelfth Battalions of foot soldiers this follower of Medon addressed himself thus: “Prepare ye the track that the First, Second and other Brigades, even your comrades, may make peaceful footing. And each man take with him a first field-dressing and two days’ rations, for we know not what difficulties we might encounter.”
5. And to the Army Medical Corps likewise he addressed himself, commanding them to attend to the weak, the injured and the weary, and lo! his words were not in vain, for the land was treacherous and harboured many pitfalls.
6. And it came further to pass that the enemy proved themselves “hard-doers”; yea, verily, they were a stubborn folk, for they had builded unto themselves dug-outs and trenches on the land of their forefathers, and were aware of the coming of the invader.
7. But “Birdie’s” host were of the hills and dales; men of much cunning and resourcefulness.
8. Therefore, without the flourish of trumpets, they sallied forth to the right, and to the left, and the centre.
9. And they did that which was right in the sight of the “Boss,” for they used their “Blocks” and held the ground, which seemed impossible to those not possessed of faith in his judgment.
10. And on the day of the twenty-sixth, and of the twenty-seventh, and on succeeding days, they did also build trenches, and burrow holes into the earth like unto the rabbit, that they might abide safely, for it was further commanded that this should be done.
11. Now it came to the ears of the Chief, and it was a true saying, that the Valley of Shrapnel was even as Gehenna, fraught with many dangers to the unwary. Therefore it was commanded that the pioneers should prepare a track crooked, making it thereby difficult, yea, insurmountable.
12. And when this and sundry tasks were completed, the First, the Second, the Third and the other Brigades of human pack-horses, so that the good work might be continued, were reinforced by a multitude of those who are known as the Lost Horse Regiments.
13. And lo! the host of Birdwood flourished amazingly, even to the extent of rum and porridge.
14. By this time, being the twelfth month of the same year, it waxed “plurry” cold, even unto a fall of snow, and the erstwhile Land of Jacko did breed much “flue” and “pneu,” and it did seem as though the plagues of the ancient Gyppos had descended upon them.
15. But the Iodine Infantry were magnanimous with their potions; thus in our generation the sick were cured of their suffering, and the balm of Gilead descended upon them.
16. At the time of the eleventh month of the same year as this is written a Chief of the Rulers journeyed from afar to take counsel with his chiefs, and, by his guiding, smooth out and make plain the difficulties which had beset their paths.
17. This accomplished, it was given unto “Birdie” that he should command all, excepting only the good ship _Argon_, which contains such a heterogeneous mass as that good ship of Noah’s did contain.
18. Now, the rest of the Acts of Kitchener, and all that he did and said, have they not been written in the _Peninsula Press_ and other vaporous rags, erstwhile our “filthy contemporaries”?
19. Heed ye all of this, ye who dwell in the Antipodes, for the time is nigh when the clouds of war shall lift and we may abide in halcyon peace; for this is the Dinkum Book of Jobs, as will be written in the Book of Revelations.
W. R. WISHART, No. 1 Aust. Stat. Hosp., Anzac.
3. THE PERFECTLY TRUE PARABLE OF THE SEVEN EGYPTIANS
Now a multitude of Egyptians journeyed unto Anzac, even nigh unto the seats of the mighty. And when they had come unto the place whereon it was written they should rest, they took counsel one with the other, saying, “Lo, behold, we have no light.”
2. Then one, more bold than the rest, journeyed forth to gather fuel that peradventure had been washed to the beach and had escaped the claws of Apollyon, the Camp Commandant. And after he had searched a while he raised his eyes and praised Allah. For near to the waters he found a tin can having a wick, like unto the lamps of his forefathers, even from the days of the Prophet. And straightway he returneth to his companions, saying: “Rejoice with me, for Allah has been bountiful and I have had good fortune.” Thus saying, he kindled the lamp, but it would not burn. And he kindled it a second time, but still the lamp refused to give her light. Then they cast it into the fire, and they all gathered round to enjoy the light and warmth thereof.
3. And it came to pass that while they yet warmed their hands there was heard a mighty crash, and of the “Gyppies” that remained were picked up seven stretchers full.
4. Verily it is not meet at Anzac to put to “base” uses such jam-tin bombs and other trifles as Apollyon abandoneth, even when you find them kicking about on the seashore.
Capt. A. ALCORN, No. 1 A. S. Hospital.
FOOTNOTES:
[22] Imshee is the Arabic for “go away.” The Australasian Corps, which had so far employed it only to street hawkers in Cairo, used this war cry on April 25.—EDS.
THE SILENCE
This is indeed a false, false night; There’s not a soldier sleeps, But like a ghost stands to his post, While Death through the long sap creeps.
There’s an eerie filmy spell o’er all— A murmur from the sea; And not a sound on the hills around— Say, what will the silence be?
Private R. J. GODFREY, 7th Aust. Field Amb.
THE GROWL
They told us w’en we ’listed We’d have a lot to bear— There was ’ardships, good and plenty, And a chance to “do and dare.” An’ since lobbing ’ere at Anzac We’ve ’ad a scrap or three, But wot we’re goin’ crook for is, _There’s only tea for tea_.
We can take our “iron rations,” Tho’ they ’and ’em out like ’Ell, An’ we’d charge the blankey Turkeys Thro’ a cataract of shell! But wot narks us more than any Is to ’ear the sergeant say: “The sea’s too rough to land our stores; _There ain’t no jam to-day!_”
When we’re stuck up in the trenches, W’ere the shells is fallin’ thick, And Johnny Turk’s machine-guns Does the interviewin’ trick, We give ’em all they gave us, And a bit of interest, too, But w’y don’t someone tell ’em _We’re just perishin’ for stoo_!
We lays down in the open W’en our “bivvies”[23] isn’t dug, The rain comes down in rivers, And we’re anythink but snug; We “stand to” ’arf the bloomin’ night, But the whole of that is naught, If they’d give us all we wanted _Of the steak wot comes to port_.