On the Anzac Trail: Being Extracts From the Diary of a New Zealand Sapper
9781465674029
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
When the Great War struck Europe I was living with my people in Ireland. I had served in the South African campaign, so, of course, I realised that it was up to me to roll up again and do my bit towards keeping the old rag flying. It's a queer thing, but let a man once go on the war-path and it's all the odds to a strap ring he's off again, full cry, to the sound of the bugle. I reckon it's in the Britisher's blood; he kind of imbibes it along with his mother's milk. When all's said and done we are a fighting breed. A sporting crowd, too, and we tackle war much as we would a game of football—or a big round-up in the Never-Never. When England took off the gloves to Germany I knew the Colonies wouldn't hang back long. They breed men on the fringes of our Empire. Hence I wasn't surprised when I saw a notice in the papers calling on all New Zealanders, or men who had seen service with the Maorilanders in South Africa, to roll up at the High Commissioner's office in London, to be trained for service with the "Down Under" contingents. Well, I had lived for years in New Zealand, and had fought Boers time and again side by side with New Zealand troops, so I sent in my name right away. In due course I received a polite letter of thanks, and was told to turn up at the office on a certain date, to be examined and attested. I did so, and in company with some two hundred other Colonials was put through the eye-sight, hearing, and other tests, said "ninety-nine" to the doctor's satisfaction, and was duly passed as fit for service. And now began a period of stress and strenuous life. Morning after morning we repaired to Wandsworth Common, there to acquaint ourselves with the intricacies of "Right turn," "Left turn," "Form fours," etc., under the tutelage of certain drill-sergeants of leathern lungs and bibulous-looking noses. At noon we knocked off for an hour and a half, repairing for refreshment to a house of entertainment which stood fairly "adjacent" to our drill ground. Here we very soon found that our instructors' looks did not belie them. However, we consoled ourselves with the reflection that English beer was cheap as drinks went, and that all things come to an end in this world. The afternoons were repetitions of the mornings, with the added attraction of a largish audience composed principally of nursemaids and infants in arms—and prams. The audience enjoyed our efforts if we, the actors, didn't. It was thirsty work. During this period we lived in London, "finding" ourselves, but receiving a slight increase of pay in lieu of quarters and rations. It's a gay city is the Rio London. Our pockets suffered, hence most of us, although we growled on principle (being Colonials), were secretly relieved in mind when the order came to transfer to Salisbury Plain, there to camp in tents until such time as huts should be prepared for us. I think we all enjoyed our stay on the "Plain"—a sad misnomer, by the way, as I never ran across a hillier plain in my life. It was autumn in England, and when we first arrived, except for cold nights the weather was really good—for England! It soon broke, however, and we sampled to the full the joys of sleeping on rain-soaked blankets and ploughing our way through the sticky chalk soil that hereabouts is so strongly in evidence. Hence we weren't sorry to transfer our swags to the more kindly shelter of the huts. In fact, we took possession of them before they were quite ready for occupancy, electing to complete the work ourselves. Most of us were "bush carpenters," so the job was right into our hands.
