Chapter C: Leyshon-White—15

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CORRESPONDENCE

DEAR MR. EDITOR,—Thinking that perhaps a little news about a hitherto unheard of department of the army (i.e. a Field Ambulance) might interest you, I have set down (having previously obtained the kind permission of the great-grandchildren of the justly celebrated Mr. Euclid, late of these parts, deceased) such axioms as will be of use and guidance to those requiring to know the habits of a Field Ambulance.

Ax. 1.—A Field Ambulance shall be an irregular conglomeration
of humanity and other animals, which shall never under any
circumstances conform to any fixed order or condition.

Ax. 2.—Whenever possible, the number of N.C.O.’s in a Field
Ambulance shall exceed the number of men by 50 per cent., in order
that the said N.C.O.’s may have a twenty-four hours’ rest when on
duty, supervising fatigues, etc. (This Axiom is taken from the
detailed account of Corps Orders made by William the Conqueror in
the year 1066.)

Ax. 3.—A Field Ambulance shall never under any circumstances move
off on the first instance, but all necessary fatigue for the moving
shall be fully indulged. Only under extreme circumstances may it
move on the second instance. (Vide AAZQP, Para. 14490053.)

Ax. 4.—All batmen in a Field Ambulance shall be equal to anything.

Ax. 5.—If at any time a Field Ambulance should be lost, the finder
will, provided he doesn’t require it for a war curio, immediately
place it in the most isolated place available, and forget it,
because several others are trying to do the same.

—Yours truly,

NOBBY,
Actg. D.A.L.C. & P.O.

TO ABDUL MUSTAFA MAHOMET, BIRD TRENCHES (OR NEIGHBOURING GREEN)

_From Holly Spur, Suicide Valley, Anzac.
Decem., 1915._

DEAR ABDUL,—I’m scribbling this letter in the trench with my back to the wall, and I’ve heaps of good news that I’d better get down while I think of it all. You’ve been so abnormally quiet—say, Abdul, has something gone wrong? Not a charge or a sign of a riot, not for ever and ever so long. They tell me you’re sick of campaigning, that you’d aim in your kit if you could; that your courage and patience are waning, and the prospects ain’t looking too good. Are you counting your hopes of returning to that little home there in the wood, where there’s peace, and a good fire burning, and the rations are plenty and good?

It’s near Christmas, you know—that’s the reason we’ve buried our growls for a while; for you couldn’t be sad in the season when everyone’s wearing a smile. But, of course, I forgot you’re not sharing the joy that we Christians know, and I guess you’re not giving or caring a damn for the whole bally show.

I’ll chance that it gives you the “willies”—if you’ve heard, it won’t hurt to repeat—that the cards and the boys’ Christmas billies[26] are here, and no kid, they’re a treat. Plum duff for the boys who’ve been fighting on the biscuit and beef (army store); I tell you we don’t need inviting to back in our carts for some more. Gee, the chocolate and cake are delicious, and there’s sweets and smokes in my pail, and a card with the sender’s best wishes—I’m sending my thanks per this mail. Folks who reckon that loving is living, whose hearts are as big as their land, whose happiness centres in giving—that’s _our_ folks and _their_ old-fashioned stand.

Well, Abdul, I’ll finish this trifle, for my thoughts are beginning to drift, and the sergeant has passed me my rifle, and it’s time I took over my shift. I’m concluding this note with a moral—take a tip from a bloke in the know—pick your men when you’re picking a quarrel.—Yours truly,

AUSTRALIA JOE.

P.S.—By the way, they’ve been stating that you’re scared to come out any more; don’t forget there’s a welcome here waiting, a warm one, you bet; au revoir.

Corpl. A. V. MCCANN,
“C” Squadron,
4th A.L.H. Regt.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The “billy” is a tin can something like what is known in England as a milk can, in which the Australian of the bush boils his water and makes his tea. A billy packed with various good things was being sent to each Australian soldier for Christmas.

ANZAC FASHIONS. SUMMER

By Bom^{_de_} A. H. SCOTT 4^{TH} BATTERY. F.A.

1. Australian sharpshooter disguised as a bush deceives a bird
2. First signs of summer: discarded puttees. Infantryman down from the
firing line
3. Water-carrying in hot weather is hard work and requires few clothes
4. Sun-flaps on caps and shorts had quite a good run]

5. Officer (incog.) armed with stick and bullet-pierced periscope.
(No periscope complete without bullet holes testifying to
hair-breadth escapes)

6. Gas helmets will never be as popular as home-made shorts

7. The English-made slacks (for the “Australian giants”) were much
too slack except under the armpits

8. Slacks and a roll of blankets give a very Australian appearance]

ANZAC FASHIONS. WINTER

By Bdr. A. H. Scott. 4^{th} Battery

But if you have a figure and want to cut a dash on the Anzac Beach get a “British warm”]

But when old Zero pays you a visit put ’em all on]

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS

_By our Inquiry Office Orderly, Pte. T. COLLES, 3rd L.H.F.A._

SNIDGER.—We quite agree with you that this is a soldiers’ journal rather than a Sunday School prize book. Nevertheless, the chaplain-editor feels we must decline the limerick series you submitted us. Our head printer is a married man with a growing family, and sternly refuses to handle your matter. So that settles it.

ANXIOUS.—Your cold feet complaint must not necessarily be a chronic affliction. Many chaps have been permanently cured by a little vigorous pedestrian exercise: such as vaulting the parapet and bogging into a dinkum bayonet charge. So cheer up! It will go away of its own accord once you get “warmed up to it.”

COMIC-CUTS.—Sorry all the generals you have so far seen do not come up to your humorous expectations. When you _do_ meet the general of whom you approve, we should advise you just to drop him a line and let him know. It will warm the poor old fellow up.

HUNGRY ALWAYS.—Yes, soft—or light—diet is absolutely necessary in treatment for dysentery or gastritis. If you think you know better than the doctor, experiment with green quinces and lemonade.... Let’s know how you get on.

CHAPLAIN OF THE —TH.—Dear kind-hearted old chap! Haven’t you quite enough to do here without worrying your head over the progress of war-relief funds in Australia? Anyhow, it may please you to know that it is proposed to impose a special fine for every time the word “blanky” is used by men or officers; the proceeds to go to the various funds. So you need have no fear of the said funds not reaching the million £ mark in quite a short time now.

SEEDEE BOT.—You can’t expect us to diagnose your complaint if you don’t make your symptoms clear. But if you feel that a torchlight procession is going on in your interior, you have probably exposed yourself too suddenly to an attack of Cambridge sausages and tinned peaches. Try a change of diet, say, whisky and Schweppes with steak and kidney pudding.

UNDIGNIFIED.—We sympathise with you deeply in your suffering from the effects of a shrapnel pellet. Naturally, every man on returning to his country would be proud to display to his admiring relatives and friends those honourable scars received on active service. You had bad luck, but at the same time you should not have tried the ostrich act when the shell burst.

PARCEL POST.—You say you wouldn’t mind an occasional case of eat-and-drinkables in the parcel as well as the socks and shirts and box of liquorice powders. They will all be useful, but anyway, think of your poor flurried aunts and sisters at home, fighting their way with knitting-needles—wild-eyed and tousle-haired—through a deadly maze of skein-wool entanglements! It’s horrible! We’re better off where _we_ are.

ADJUTANT.—Yes, it’s a pity that one of your men—such a seasoned veteran and a capable and obedient soldier, too—should have such kleptomaniacal tendencies. But we wouldn’t advise you to have him sent back. Make him your batman, instead.... Why, the man was born for the position!

FUZZY.—Your suggestions will be handed on to the proper quarters. The only objection to the suggested cinema show at Reserve Gully might be that the boys in the firing trenches would make it too hot “sneakin’ off to the pitchers” every night.... Afraid you’ve no hope of seeing a pub built over the road, opposite William’s Pier.... Yes, it’s possible that our motor wagons might run penny section moonlight trips to Salt Lake and back to Anzac. But we fear that there is no hope of a _palais-de-danse_ there.

_Drawn by W. OTHO HEWETT_]

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The Anzac BookChapter C: Leyshon-White—15

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