Part 12

W’en it rains they give us lime juice, W’en it’s ’ot they give us rum; The baccy don’t arrive because The mule train didn’t come. The mail is ’arf a day be’ind, And w’en it comes to light, We blanky well can’t read it, ’Cause it’s dark as Egypt’s night.

But, anyway, that’s roustin’, You don’t want to ’eed our ’owl; They say as ’ow a soldier ’As a perfect right to growl. If it’s bully beef till Doomsday, We ain’t goin’ to make a fuss— So long as we can lick the Turks, _That’s good enough for us_.

E. M. SMITH, 27th Battalion.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] Bivvy—bivouac, shelter.

MY LADY NICOTINE

(_With thanks to all givers of cigarettes_)

The hills of old Gallipoli Are barren and austere, And fairy folk, unhappily, Are few indeed out there.

But one I know whose industry Both night and day is seen, For all attest her ministry— My Lady Nicotine.

I do not pen unfeelingly These random lines of thanks, For I, in old Gallipoli, Am fighting in the ranks.

However long the day may be Or cold the watch of night, My lady finds unerringly The road to the respite.

Her gift is small and seemingly Of little value, yet It teaches me so charmingly To think and to forget.

So I and those along with me In all this dreary scene Unite in giving thanks to thee, My Lady Nicotine.

H. G. GARLAND.

THE RAID ON LONDON

_A Modern Chronicle by Private PAT RIOT_

England has been conquered by Julius Cæsar, William of Normandy, nearly (but not quite) by William of Germany, and, lastly, by plain Bill of Australia. And of the three it is clear that the conquest of Australian Bill was the most successful of all, when it is remembered that at the time of his triumphant entry into London he was not the man he is; he was sick and wounded. He did not invade the city with his shield in front of him. He was carried on it; he came a conqueror on crutches.

Private Bill Kangaroo was a lanky, sawny bushman who, when a certain foreign militarism went mad and the band began to play the concert of Europe, read between the lines of his newspaper, thought a bit, saddled his brumby, and rode for the nearest town that ran a railway, staying there just long enough for a final shout. He passed the doctor easily, took a quite insanguinary oath (for once) to do his job as a soldier, and went into camp.

How Private Bill made his kangaroo-like leap up the ridges of Gallipoli has been told by a war correspondent to a public which had, up till then, been vaguely aware of his existence as a poor relation from a South Sea Island. It is fairly certain that future historians will teach that Australia was discovered not by Captain Cook, explorer, but by Mr. Ashmead Bartlett, war correspondent. Anyhow, the finding and exploration of the territory is not in the same continent as the discovery and exploration of its people, and Bill has seen the correspondent in the trenches, and regards him with much more curiosity than ever he regarded the quondam explorer. But he was unconcerned with these things, and was acting co-respondent in the case of Crescent _v._ Southern Cross when a sniper’s bullet hit him in the neck and put him out of court. A hospital ship brought him to the City of London.

London first came to know him through the medium of its most useful person, the policeman. Bill had no love for a policeman as a reader of Riot Acts, but he developed quite an affection for him as a Pointer of the Way. “I’m bushed” became a familiar greeting between them, and the Kangaroo was never disappointed when he strolled across the street to ask P.C. 49 the way he should go. A London motor-bus might have done what a Turkish bullet failed to do if the man in blue had not stopped the traffic and played the part of pilot to him. The raised hand that held up the stream only for royal persons was lifted for the strolling soldier from the South, and the busmen laughed at the bushman. To be “bushed” in the heart of London became a common experience with him, and one had a suspicion that nefarious taxicab drivers often took advantage of his innocence of locality to drive him in circles before dropping him at his destination, perhaps five minutes from the starting place. It was the shortness of city distances that puzzled him, and he was amazed to find names that were historical and household words 12,000 miles away borne by quite unpretentious streets and lanes. When English people learned that he had travelled 1,000 miles to pass a doctor and join the Army, they gasped and said he must be joking.

What a class war failed to do, a race war has done. The poor and their patrons, noblemen gentle and simple, vied with each other in dealing hospitably by the private soldier who had climbed the heights that commanded a view of the Past and the Future. In the stately homes of England, Bill (in the servant’s phrase) met the “big guns” as “one of themselves,” and was astonished at the surprise thus caused. But he was amazed, in turn, when the servants told him they had been in the house ten years. With many embellishments, he assured them that a girl in service in Sydney would think she owned the house if she stopped so long in one place.

To Bill, going into the Carlton or the Hotel Cecil wasn’t sitting in the seats of the mighty, but just the same as entering the pub at Yungaburrah, and he wandered in these places without any desire to “cut a dash.” He approved of the costly surroundings, but when he saw the smallness of the glasses put before him, Bill sat in the seats of the scornful. He really enjoyed himself better in that inn where he found a group of Cockney cronies. The landlord had to respond repeatedly to his “Fill ’em up again,” and Bill afterwards declared it to be the cheapest night’s fun in the town.

Parsimonious people would say that Bill Kangaroo didn’t know the value of money, for it took him some time to appreciate the small coins of the realm at their face value. He thought it looked mean to keep on asking, “How much?” and when seeing the sights of the city he always pulled out silver more than sufficient to cover expenses. The pennies he received in change soon filled his pocket, and at first he gave them away; but as he saw that he would soon be penniless, he would go into one of those places described as being “strictly within the meaning of the Act,” and surreptitiously ask the barman if he could do with change. His dislike of the base metal and a habit of tipping in silver bade fair to earn for him the nickname of the “Silver King.” Tipping he reckoned a curse, but, knowing that many men lived by tips alone, he passed the coin quite as cordially as he disliked the practice. Bill never bought in the cheapest market to sell in the dearest; he didn’t think it “on the square.”

His greatest adventure was the Zeppelins. Seated in a theatre one evening, he heard a woof! And just after that a second one, closer a third, a fourth, and then a fifth just outside. Woof! Crash! Men and women began to rush for the doors, until the man who rose to the occasion on that memorable 25th rose to this one, and shouted above the tumult of falling glass and tramping feet that it was safer in than out, and that if they kept their seats all would be well. The actresses on the stage, though quaking with fright, stuck pluckily to their parts until the final act. Bill himself wanted dearly to go out and see the infernal machines and their effect, but, for example’s sake, he stayed till order was restored, when he slipped out of the building.

What he saw outside filled him with thankfulness that he was a soldier, helping to smash the raiders and their kind. Wandering down the street, past great gaping holes in the roadway, an overturned motor-bus and some wrecked buildings, he found himself on the Embankment, and then on the bridge, where he saw a damaged arch of masonry. He sat down to think, little dreaming that he was fulfilling Macaulay’s prophecy concerning the man from “down under” sitting on the ruins of London Bridge.

Bill’s furlough was finished shortly after this; his raid terminated with that of the Zeppelins. He was glad to return to the front; and he knows now that, in assisting in the pruning of Prussia, he is fighting for more things than ever he thought of when he took the oath of allegiance.

But he swears that when the job is done he will again visit the land of his father’s fathers, and toast it in a big, big toast.

9th Battalion.

SING!

Trooper Sing, of the 2nd Light Horse Brigade, on the right, was said to have sniped his two hundredth Turk.

But his name and fame had not spread all around the lines, for a Staff Officer, in visiting the snipers of Quinn’s Post, came upon a Light Horseman who, very justifiably, was priding himself upon having definitely hit twelve of the enemy.

“Did you hear that fellow Sing on the right of the line——” began the Staff Officer.

“Well, sir, they don’t sing in front of me,” put in the Quinn’s Post man promptly. “They’re too b—— well frightened!”

ANOTHER ATTEMPT AT AN ANZAC ALPHABET

=A= was the _Anguish_ that spread o’er my face When I saw the remarkable look of the place.

=B=’s “_Beachy Bill_,” who fired at my ship— Punctured the funnel and gave me the “pip.”

=C= was the “_Crump_” that went by with a screech As I jumped from a lighter and fell on the beach.

=D= was the _Daring_ I failed to display When fragments of shrapnel came whizzing my way.

=E= was _Earth_ which I found in my hair As I woke in the morning and crawled from my lair.

=F= were the _Fleas_, and also the _Flies_, Who feed on a fellow wherever he lies.

=G= were the _Gripes_ that gripped me within— The result of commodities packed in a tin.

=H= was the _Hole_ that a howitzer made; It would take me an hour to fill in with a spade.

=I= was the _Idiot_ who stuck up my head Before I was taught to take cover instead.

=J= was the _Jam_ with our rations and rum— We found it was almost invariably “Plum.”

=K= was the _Knowledge_ I quickly acquired Of hiding whenever the enemy fired.

=L= was the _Louse_ that lurked in my vest, Reconnoitred my person, and tickled my chest.

=M= was the _Monitor_, firing at night, Which kept me awake when “above” didn’t bite.

=N= was the “_Night stunt_,” with trembling heart, Expecting each moment the Maxims would start.

=O=’s the _O.O._[24]; let’s give him a cheer— It isn’t _his_ fault that nothing comes here.

=P= are the _Piers_—see them shiver and shake Whenever a launch makes a wash with her wake.

=Q= stands for “_Quick_,” to the tunnel we dash When a horrible missile explodes with a crash.

=R= are the _Rumours_ we hear every day That the Turkish _moral_ has quite faded away.

=S= is the gilded _Staff Officer_—who Censors my letters and tears them in two.

=T= is the _Taube_ that drones in the sky (Thank goodness, _I_ haven’t been ordered to fly!)

=U= is the _Underground_ sap we expand— There’s a twopenny tube to the Narrows in hand.

=V= is for _Victory_. How we shall sing Rule, O Britannia, and God Save the King!

=W= the _Wire_ we put round our works— We generally find that it’s pinched by the Turks.

=X= the “_X-periments_” made with a bomb— A neat little cross on a nice little tomb.

=Y= in the world have I ever been placed In a trench of cold water right up to my waist?

=Z= is the mule corps recruited from _Zion_, Bearers of water and rations of iron.

“UBIQUE,” 21st Indian Mtn. Battery.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] Ordnance Officer.

TO SARI BAIR

Did Ari Burnu, Sari Bair, With lips of hot desire, And clutch your skirts in wild despair At your disdainful ire?

Oh, Sari Bair, with frowning brow And flinty breasts of stone— Fierce Anzac breathes a fiery vow, Thou art for him alone.

To drive your Abdul from his lairs, He comes in proud array; And loud he swears, and when he swears The Turkish hosts give way.

Dear goddess, wise in ancient lore, Let Abdul curse the Hun; The waning Crescent fades before Australia’s Rising Sun.

But cheer up, poor old Sari Bair, And smile ’midst battle smoke, For Anzac, wild of eye and hair, Is quite a decent bloke.

“BEN TELBOW,” 10th Aust. Battalion.

ON WATER FATIGUE

I’d like to get the Hun who sends The little bits of shell Which buzz around as wearily I top that blooming hill. He only does his duty, But my only shirt I’d sell For half a chance to give the cuss A non-return to H——!

Trooper GEORGE H. SMITH, 7th Light Horse.

WHEN IT’S ALL OVER....

We were finished with the fightin’, we were finished with the war, And the dove of peace looked healthier than e’er she did before; For the Allies put the acid on the Hohenzollern crowd, And they piled the costs on William when they knew they had him cowed. But _we_ didn’t care a cussword if his soul were saved or sold; We were bound for home and beauty, and the wanderlust was cold.

Yes, we dream of home and Mother, and of Dad and Sister May, And the girls who used to know us, waitin’ half a world away; And we’re wantin’ but to find them just the same and nothin’ more— Just the same old dear old home-folks that we knew before the war. And I’m hoping they’ll be looking for the boy that used to be, Not a hero with a halo for the crowd to come and see.

Oh! I’ve snarled to read the phrases that the writers coined for us— “Deathless heroes—lasting glory,” and the other foolish fuss; For we’re simple sinful soldiers, and we’re often rude and rough, And our characters ain’t altered since we donned the khaki stuff. (“Smithy” terms this “the outpourin’s of an overburdened soul,” But I’d like to stuff a blanket in that long-offendin’ hole.)

As I gaze on Bill, me cobber,[25] sure I smile a little smile, For his happy, careless nature doesn’t fit the poet’s style; No, he don’t resemble Cæsar in his looks or in his speech, Nor Napoleon nor Cromwell—why, they ain’t within his reach. He’s a decent sort of cobber, but he doesn’t push a claim To be classed “a gallant guardian of Britain’s honoured name.”

I’ve a grouch on jingo writers and the poets and them all, Who have placed us common persons on a public pedestal; Will they dust our coats and speak to us and help us _when we fall_, Or paste a different label on us—something very small? It’s their fault I’m entertaining just a tiny little dread That me friends may want a hero with a halo round his head.

HARRY MCCANN, 4th A.L.H.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Cobber—Australian for a well tried and tested pal.

SPECIAL A. & N. Z. A. C. ORDERS

The following are some of the “special orders” issued on notable occasions to the officers and men of the A. & N. Z. Army Corps.

I. THE LANDING

AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND ARMY CORPS

_April, 1915._

OFFICERS AND MEN,—In conjunction with the Navy, we are about to undertake one of the most difficult tasks any soldier can be called on to perform, and a problem which has puzzled many soldiers for years past. That we will succeed I have no doubt, simply because I know your full determination to do so. Lord Kitchener has told us that he lays special stress on the rôle the Army has to play in this particular operation, the success of which will be a very severe blow to the enemy—indeed, as severe as any he could receive in France. It will go down to history to the glory of the soldiers of Australia and New Zealand. Before we start, there are one or two points which I must impress on all, and I most earnestly beg every single man to listen attentively and take these to heart.

We are going to have a real hard and rough time of it until, at all events, we have turned the enemy out of our first objective. Hard, rough times none of us mind, but to get through them successfully we must always keep before us the following facts. Every possible endeavour will be made to bring up transport as often as possible; but the country whither we are bound is very difficult, and we may not be able to get our wagons anywhere near us for days, so men must not think their wants have been neglected if they do not get all they want. On landing it will be necessary for every individual to carry with him all his requirements in food and clothing for three days, as we may not see our transport till then. Remember then that it is essential for everyone to take the very greatest care not only of his food, but of his ammunition, the replenishment of which will be very difficult. Men are liable to throw away their food the first day out and to finish their water bottles as soon as they start marching. If you do this now, we can hardly hope for success, as unfed men cannot fight, and you must make an effort to try and refrain from starting on your water bottles until quite late in the day. Once you begin drinking you cannot stop, and a water bottle is very soon emptied.

Also as regards ammunition—you must not waste it by firing away indiscriminately at no target. The time will come when we shall find the enemy in well entrenched positions from which we shall have to turn them out, when all our ammunition will be required; and remember,

Concealment whenever possible, Covering fire always, Control of fire and control of your men, Communications never to be neglected.

W. R. BIRDWOOD.

II. THE BATTLES OF AUGUST

SPECIAL ORDER

BY GENERAL SIR IAN HAMILTON, G.C.B., D.S.O., A.D.C. Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean Expeditionary Force.

GENERAL HEADQUARTERS, Mediterranean Expeditionary Force. _September 7, 1915._

The Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, desires formally to record the fine feat of arms achieved by the troops under the command of Lieutenant-General Sir W. R. Birdwood during the battle of Sari Bair.

The fervent desire of all ranks to close with the enemy, the impetuosity of their onset and the steadfast valour with which they maintained the long struggle, these will surely make appeal to their fellow-countrymen all over the world.

The gallant capture of the almost impregnable Lone Pine trenches by the Australian Division, and the equally gallant defence of the position against repeated counter-attacks are exploits which will live in history. The determined assaults carried out from other parts of the Australian Division’s line were also of inestimable service to the whole force, preventing as they did the movement of large bodies of reinforcements to the northern flank.

The troops under the command of Major-General Sir A. J. Godley, and particularly the New Zealand and Australian Division, were called upon to carry out one of the most difficult military operations that has ever been attempted—a night march and assault by several columns in intricate mountainous country, strongly entrenched, and held by a numerous and determined enemy. Their brilliant conduct during this operation and the success they achieved have won for them a reputation as soldiers of whom any country must be proud.

To the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, therefore, and to those who were associated with that famous Corps in the battle of Sari Bair—the Maoris, Sikhs, Gurkhas, and the new troops of the 10th and 13th Divisions from the Old Country—Sir Ian Hamilton tenders his appreciation of their efforts, his admiration of their gallantry, and his thanks for their achievements. It is an honour to command a force which numbers such men as these in its ranks, and it is the Commander-in-Chief’s high privilege to acknowledge that honour.

W. P. BRAITHWAITE, Major-General, Chief of the General Staff.

III. ARRIVAL OF 2nd AUSTRALIAN DIVISION, AND SINKING OF THE _SOUTHLAND_

SPECIAL ARMY CORPS ORDER

ARMY CORPS HEADQUARTERS, _September 7, 1915_.

In welcoming the 2nd Australian Division to join the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, the General Officer Commanding, on behalf of all their comrades now serving on the Peninsula, wishes to convey to them our general feeling of admiration for the gallant behaviour of all ranks on board the transport _Southland_, when that vessel was torpedoed on the 2nd inst.

All the troops of the Empire now serving with the Army Corps have heard with pride of the courage and discipline shown at a moment when the nerves of the bravest were liable to be so highly tried. Not only was there not the slightest confusion on the part of the troops, who quietly fell in prepared to meet whatever fate might be in store for them, but later on when there was a prospect of the _Southland_ being able to make her way under her own steam, and volunteer stokers were called for, men at once came forward for this duty and successfully helped in getting the _Southland_ into Mudros.

The 2nd Australian Division knows well the high reputation it has to live up to, to carry on the brave deeds done by those who have been here earlier in the campaign, but with men like those on the _Southland_ we are fully assured that our new comrades are going to prove themselves equal in all ways to the old hands who have fought so well.

C. M. WAGSTAFF, Major, for Brigadier-General, General Staff, Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

IV. LORD KITCHENER’S MESSAGE

AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND ARMY CORPS

SPECIAL ARMY CORPS ORDER, _November 25, 1915_.

Lord Kitchener has desired me to convey to the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, a message with which he was specially entrusted by the King to bring to our Army Corps.

His Majesty commanded Lord Kitchener to express his high appreciation of the gallant and unflinching conduct of our men through fighting which has been as hard as any yet seen during the war, and His Majesty wishes to express his complete confidence in the determination and fighting qualities of our men to assist in carrying this war to an entirely successful termination.

Lord Kitchener has ordered me to express to all the very great pleasure it gave him to have the opportunity, which he considers a privilege, of visiting “ANZAC” to see for himself some of the wonderfully good work which has been done by the officers and men of our Army Corps, as it was not until he had himself seen the positions we had captured and held, that he was able fully to realise the magnitude of the work which has been accomplished. Lord Kitchener much regretted that time did not permit of his seeing the whole Corps, but he was very pleased to see a considerable proportion of officers and men, and to find all in such good heart, and so confidently imbued with that grand spirit, which has carried them through all their trials and many dangerous feats of arms, a spirit which he is quite confident they will maintain to the end, until they have taken their full share in completely overthrowing our enemies.

Boys! We may all well be proud to receive such messages, and it is up to all of us to live up to them and prove their truth.

W. R. BIRDWOOD.

V. GENERAL BIRDWOOD RELINQUISHES COMMAND OF A. & N. Z. ARMY CORPS

SPECIAL ARMY CORPS ORDERS.

AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND ARMY CORPS, _December 1, 1915_.