Frank Tames A Rough 'Un

Frank Tames A Rough 'Un

THE V.D.C. in camp at Jarred had bivouacked ior the night. The day had been long and tiring and the old Diggers were resting and ~pinning yarns.

The tired soldiers were discussing horsemanship, and big Frank was holding forth.

"Of course, all you blokes know that I served in the 9th Light Horse Regiment. You would have guessed that by my smart movements on parade. What's that? Been fairly turning out in the morning? Well, what of it? Look at the amount of energy I put into my work.

"Now, talking of horses. That reminds me of one I rode while I was in Palestine. Those were the days of horsemen; not like the so called riders you see these days. Call 'em horsemen! Alight be all right on a broken down cab horse, or perhaps safer still on a seat in a tramcar; but when it comes to sticking-ah, that belonged to the boys of the old school. They say Long Harry here is pretty good, but, don't you see, horses don't buck like they used to.

"I remember when I was in Palestine with the regiment, and we had secured, by fair means or otherwise, a beautiful black stallion. He was the loveliest horse ever foaled, but as mad as a March hare. A rough stockyard had been built, and I was leaning on the rails and gazing at this beautiful horse, when the colonel came along and, looking at me, said, 'I understand you are a fair horseman.'

"I said, 'Oh, I am fairly good on a broken down hack.'

"'Will you try this horse out?' he said.

"Well, I wasn't particularly keen about it, especially as I knew there were a lot of better horsemen than me in the regiment.

"However, to make a long story short, I said that I'd have a slap at him, and I got a saddle and bridle and was soon on the horse's back.

"Then the fun began. Did he buck? Well, I guess he did a bit. He made a tremendous spring as I put my leg across him, and he bounded out of the stockyard, right over a six-foot fence, and then straight across some open country towards an olive plantation.

"Did he buck, did you say? Well, he sprang into the air, and, at a fair estimate, it was ten minutes before he came down. He looped the loop, performed the figure eight in midair, turned a complete somersault, rolled on the ground, and then bucked his brand off but, of course, that didn't bother me in the least.

"When he found he could not get me that way, he bolted into the olives and tried to dash me against the trees. My shirt was torn from my back, but, as I said before, I could ride a trifle in those days.

"When he could not get rid of me in the olives, he bolted into a river and rolled in the stream. It was here that he got rid of the saddle and bridle, but as he sprang up I was on his back again, bareback-and then we had a fair set to on the open country.

"The sun was about to set, and still he bucked, and I was just beginning to wonder how I was to manage for something to eat, as we had been at it for over three hours. just at this moment I saw the cook arrive with my dinner and a shanghai. I had often been fed with a shanghai when riding rough horses,

but the cooks I was used to were men of the bush, and I was not sure if our army cook was much of a shot. You see, this cook was rather a city man, and I didn't like to take a chance and get hit in the eye.

"At last the horse raced towards a telegraph line and tried to bash me against some of the poles and as we drew near I heard the colonel call out to the men to get a rope and lasso me off the horse's back as I went past.

"I was very annoyed at his interference, as I had just lit my pipe and was enjoying the ride.

"The colonel called out as I raced past the telegraph poles, 'Now, boys, get him, or Australia will lose a great soldier.'

"Over came the rope, and it fell round my waist. In the meantime they had taken several turns around a telegraph pole with the other end. Did I come off ? Oh, no. I never exaggerate, but I can tell you it took me all my time to stick him then. We yanked out that telegraph pole, and then the horse collapsed and I was stunned when he fell.

"As the horse and I lay senseless on the ground it took ten men with a rope to get me clear, I had such a grip of the horse."

"You must have been a pretty good horseman in those days, Frank," said one of the old Diggers.

"I was fair," said Frank, "but there were a lot of better men than me in the 9th Light Horse."

Frank paused as the trumpets sounded "Lights Out", and the weary old Diggers crawled into their blankets to sleep, and possibly to dream of other days when

"I could wheel 'em in the gidgee,
Where the country's rough and ridgy;
I could lose 'em in the very worst of scrub.
With my head I was daisy;
I could ride 'em rough and aisy,
With the technique of an artist on the job."

"S69052"

"ONCE MORE INTO THE BREECH !"

"TAKE Post! "

Over the balmy air like a cooing dove, came the dulcet tones of the B.C.

Leisurely the gun crew finished their game of Chinese chequers and ambled to their posts, having ascertained that the major would have their hot coffee and toast prepared at approximately 1234

Initial corrections having been applied, description of target came floating through the L.S.

Stifling a yawn, the A.S.L. rolled up his sleeves, and gave the wheel a few feeble turns to bring him on target, the S.F.R. meanwhile having dropped eight, using anti-clockwise action. He also made a left correction by the same method.

The R.B.L., who had made his correction, was madly hissing across the trunnion to the S.F.R. and developing an attack of apoplexy.

In the C.P. a slight difference of opinion had arisen between 2 and 3 as to the last range reading, 2 averring he had called 2,000, while 3 reckoned he had heard 10,000 called. The B.C.Ac. intervened and ordered them to 'loss for it: 3 produced his lucky double headed penny-and 10,000 it was!

Shell and cartridge having been loaded, the breech was smartly closed on three fingers of 3's hand, who had absentmindedly forgotten his "In", so was out.

Nonchalantly sweeping the digits from the gun floor with the rammer, 4 cast one straight into 7's eye, he having just lifted a shell from the recess.

Surprised and indignant, 7 let the shell slip from his grasp on to 6's head as he was about to haul a cartridge from a container. His bosom pal, the S.F.R., seized the rammer from 4 and slammed him right in the midriff, which caused him to cannon into 5 and they both fell into the pit.

"Fire!" having been ordered, the A.S.L. called "On!" and pulled the trigger.

No result forthcoming, "Close the breech!" was called. No casualty replacements being at hand, I seized the rammer and belted the L.B.M.

This procedure having been repeated four times, the breech was opened when it was found that four dummy tubes had been inserted; 2 became very caustic in his remarks regarding all and sundry, so the S.O. cracked him on the point.

During the course of all these frolicsome gambols, an unintelligible stream of vituperation had been shattering the ethereal beauty of the night per medium of the L.S. Slithering round to the phone, the S.F.R. called "Say again!" and was blasted into a stupor.

The A.S.L. and R.B.L., determined to get one round away, had again loaded the gun, got on range and line. With a precautionary "On", they both ducked and A.S.L. pulled the trigger.

Screaming on its way, the projectile, with the driving band following it for a short distance, described a wide arc and landed square on the target-boat.

Turning to each other, the two layers solemnly shook hands, took one fond look at "Big Bertha" and leapt over the cliffs, leaving the S.O. to tear out his few remaining tufts of hair and run screaming into the night.

"N457349"