Chapter L: J. Ivory,

4th Howitzer Battery N.Z.F.A.

F.R. CROZIER]

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.

Australian: “He, he, no——razaw!”]

_Drawn by DAVID BARKER_]

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.

_Drawn by B. H. C. PRICE_]

_Drawn by L. F. S. HORE_]

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_.

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.

_Drawn by DAVID BARKER_]

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.

Slowly Freezing Australasian: “Well, I’m that —— cold I hardly know if I’ve got nails in my feet.”]

The TURKISH extremity WAS blocked on our left.—]

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.