New Zealand at the Front 1917; Pages 77 to 92

Section 6: New Zealand at the Front 1917; Pages 77 to 92

Gunner Swingit is sent down from the guns to the horse lines for a rest. He says - "May I go back to the guns, Sir?"

NOW it came to pass, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and seven and ten, that The Great Ones held converse, and said, - Go to ; let us greatly ennoble the Base Camp that is in France.

Let there be no more Details, gambling merrily among the shady trees, and let orders be brought forth concerning this and many other practices."

And they called to them one from Slyng, called by most The Old Man" and said unto him, Go. fare forth across the waters to France, and hie thee to our Base Camp.

And when there, do thy diligence to ascertain the things which they do, and tell them they mustn't." And it was so.

And the Old Man did mighty works and great wonders therein; so that in a short space of time, lo, where had been a desert, with small rivers in the rainy season to lave the inhabitants while sleeping, he said unto his servers, "Stem me this raging stream." And it was so. And there arose lofty and noble terraces, hewn from the quarries of chalk by one William, surnamed Body, and his myrmidons. And these swat grievously; and when they would have rested, still they laboured on till the thing was accomplished.

And there was with them a Captain of the Dinkums, who cheered on the faint hearts of them that would fain have ceased their toil, saying, "Up; lest by-overmuch sitting ye acquire corns on the hereafter."

And the same William arrayed himself with a compass, and did therewith many doughty deeds; but in what manner I cannot of a surety say.

And the Old Man looked and said, "Behold, I see no flowers here. Let seeds be procured, that the earth may bring forth much flowers."

And he appointed one, a Corporal of the Scots, to be a tiller of the soil ; and the soil brought forth abundance of flowers around the Mess of the Officers, where also a Band did discourse sweet discords on Guest Night.

And the thing was pleasing to all, for many vegetables did spring up in divers places, whereat the souls of the Camp dwellers were much content.

Then there arose mighty groanings in the Camp, for there went forth a decree that the hair of all men should be shorn off. And many went exceeding crook, and cried amongst themselves, " Never come at that game, cobber." Howbeit, the outcry was heeded not at all; nay, by one Philip, surnamed the Kedal, it was much welcomed, for he said, " Of a surety the men of my Brigade should follow their Officer in all things." But why he spake thus it hath not fully been shown me; and the hair fell thick before the shears of the barber.

But the latter was a right courteous knight, and did console his victims in right merry fashion, saying, " Be of good cheer; be not so melancholious; for in verity it were better to lose one's hair than to lose one's head." So the thing was submitted unto.

And it came to pass that certain jesters did band themselves together for the common weal and their same Chief was called Fama and they discoursed many merry quips and cranks and the fame of them went abroad throughout the land.
Ye tonsorial inquisition >>>

And many men did also play at Crickets; and there befell a day when there arose a disputation between them of the Reds and them of the Blacks, which should be the greater in this game.

And it came to pass on the day appointed for the trial thereof, that the Blacks proved themselves victors, but as I have had revealed unto me, by a narrow margin only. And the Captains of both sides, which were also the Captains of Brigades, were given out leg before wicket, and went crook excessively. And many men played at these games, many men also watched them.

Many men also (of such were those who gave ear to fine music and to clashing of cymbals, and to fervent exhortation) went to Concerts, and eke to the Institute of the Salvation Army and of the Presbyterians ; so their time was fully occupied.

And there abode in the Camp Maoris of the race called Pickaneers; and they did render much hakas, to the terror and frightment of the natives.
There was also a certain man of the Institute, of terrible aspect ; the same was wont to roam about the Houses where men fed, and would shout " To-night! Tonight!" in a horrific voice whereat there would be much shouting and tumult ; but what was meant thereby I know not for certain.

And no man prevailed upon him to hold his peace.

And there arose a certain Bull which had his Ring not far from the En Zedders; and he compelled them all to do sacrifice to him ten days ; and at the end thereof they were no whit the wiser, save for an arrangement of the helmet called the "P.H." the like of which was never seen before ; howbeit he offered them little other hurt, save gas, which is there in much abundance; but they were not over filled with his praises.

And of many other things I would tell; of the feud that arose between the En Zedders and them of the Red Caps, which do carry pistols, and testify of all and sundry whom they entrap in the following manner: " This man," say they, " when arrested, smelt strongly, for he was drunken !"
Howbeit, it was showed unto me that many of these who were of the Red Caps and known also unto many in the land as Empees, were no whit better than the rest of us. And of Permanent Base Dwellers, who have their abode with the Dinkums, to the vexing of the soul of their Commander.

For he showed me that the reason of the name "Permanent Base " was less their "permanence" -for this they have not - but their baseness. And likewise of the Padre who came seeking a Church, and found naught, save a red bathing box.

But of these and many like wonders I could speak more fully were not Sen Sor the son of Cut living in the land.

Pyco.

THE SOUVENIR COLLECTOR

THE Souvenir Collector is always with us. But he is not nearly so numerous as he was. On Gallipoli he gathered many things, but was lucky to get only his own carcass only. At the Somme the New Zealanders got many souvenirs.

Now the men, especially the old hands, don't bother about souvenirs. They reckon that if the war goes on for a few years longer there will be time enough -say a couple of years hence- to collect shell cases and fuses and things of that sort.

Occasionally, however, one does meet the souvenir collector, hung - round with ironmongery in great variety. This man is generally a recent arrival.

The old hand is usually content to carry only what the Army puts on his back, for that, nowadays, is no light load.

Recently three soldiers came back from the trenches, each with a memento of the battle in which he had taken part. One had a helmet, the second a Boche bayonet, and the third carried a door-knocker. When they got back to billets their friends crowded around them to examine the souvenir.

" Why on earth did you bring back a door-knocker, Bill ? "' asked one of his mates.

" Well, you see, it was this way," replied Bill. "Just after we had taken Messines I was knocking at the door of a house there, -when along comes one of those big Boche shells, an' I'm dashed if it didn't blow the house right out of my hand."

E. V. PAUL.


	C'EST LA GUERRE
	THERE'S a township torn and shattered ; There are streets of broken brick Where the shells have crumped and battered, the team-mules rear and kick. And the sweating driver curses, As the pellets zip and tear Oh! confound this German shrapnel ! "Up you blighters! C'est la guerre !"

There's a winsome little maiden

Always greets me with a laugh;

and her eyes with mirth are laden

Eyes that question, dance, and chaff;

There's a crash that shakes the pave',

Splinters cutting through the air

Oh, my God ! one's caught the girlie!

Pauvre petite! Mais-c'est la guerre!

There's a never ending whining,

Whizzing, crashing in the town;

And above - the sun is shining

As he looks serenely down

On the wreckage, on the dying,

Lying prone beneath his glare;

On the dead-shut out the vision

Mais, que voulez-vous ? La guerre

If one suffers, does it matter

What the body must endure

Though the iron the limbs may shatter,

Yet the memory is sure.

And those pitiful, white crosses

Flers, Messines, Armentieres-

Where our own brave dead are sleeping,

Dear old comrades. C'est la guerre !

There's a rugged, rocky city

Where the breezes swirl and play.

Ah ! Dear God of Love and Pity,

Be with them at home to-day,

Where Pencarrow's Light is gleaming

And the salt sea scents the air :

It's of Wellington I'm dreaming

Cher ami-ah ! C'est la guerre !

The Spring Song

BESIDE the shattered homestead,

By the guns that bark all day,

There's a pear tree covered in snowy white,

Abloom with the glory of May.

And the screeching shells come in

For their tribute in maimed and dead;

But a blackbird pipes in the hedgerow,

And a skylark sings overhead.

C. G. ASTON,


	Above: The Future Generation; General (1940) "No 'e can't play soldiers, 'is father was a batman"
	Left: LUCK!. "Heard of Bill lately?". "Yes, he's gone back to NZ with both legs off". "Lucky devil."

CAIRNS OF CANTERBURY

WHEN the records and the recollections of the New Zealand Medical Corps are fully related, one may predict that, among the officers, the names of Moray, Creagh, Prime, "Jockey " Neilson, Goldie, Crawshaw, "Kew" Goodson, "Peter" Atkins, and poor Boyelle will often be gratefully recalled by Divisional old-timers. But the names of N.C.O.s and men who will be similarly remembered are indeed legion. To these the greater praise, for while the medical officer carries into the field his civilian vocation, other ranks of the Medical Corps -like the gallant regimental stretcher bearers-have been transformed by the war into tender ministers to the sick and wounded. Cairns of Canterbury - was one of these.

I came across Cairns, for the first time, on the Peninsula.

Accompanied by a group of bearers, he seemed to haunt the Apex, Quinn's, and No. 2 Outpost. Day and night one met the party going up or down the saps or sheltering the wounded in the deres.

Officers and bearers seemed to change, almost from day to day. Not so Cairns ; he was there to stay. Wearied and weakened though he was by the intimacies of external and internal parasites, he saw it out to the very bitter end.

He left the beach with a reputation and a D.C.M.

Next met him on the Somme, living at Thistle Alley in a combination of lean-to and dug-out, fully furnished with stretchers, splints, field dressings, a P.H. helmet, a Primus stove, and two fly-papers which had done great execution.

He was rarely at home; he preferred the climate of Flers. His full dress uniform included a ground sheet and several sandbags. Thus equipped, one does not get the "wind up"-at least, that ailment never afflicted Cairns.

At 11 p.m., during our last night on the Somme, a message reached the M.O. in charge of the advanced dressing station. "Eight wounded all stretcher cases, Sergeant. Got your squads ready ?

Yes, sir," replicd Cairns.

You will find the cases collected at the Bearer Relay Post, just beyond the Switch."

"That's all right, sir. Now we shan't be long."

"Good luck, Sergeant. The men all have their helmets and goggles ? "

"Yes, sir," from No. 4 of each squad.

Away they went in the rain and darkness and that ghastly heavy mud, and I heard Cairns' voice beginning some occult tune.

At 3 a.m. he reappears, drenched and caked with clay.

"First squad is in, sir," he reports. " The rest are coming-all bad cases -three of them Boches. We got Hell going through the barrage; the third squad nearly buried by a 9-irich ; one of those new birds from the Nineteeuth Reinforcements gone West, blown to pieces -his first trip, too, poor beggar; and old Thomson's got a Blighty in the arm."

The remaining squads reach the A.D.S. in due course -a wet and weary procession- and the wounded receive hot coffee, a biscuit, and a cigarette while their wounds are looked to by the M.O. Two of them (one a Fritz) are abdominal cases, and these being denied a drink, ask faintly for a smoke. When the last squad arrives a Corporal comes forward:

"Would you look at this case, sir ? He's a Boche officer. We think he's dead."

The M.O. examined him closely.

"Yes, he's done in, boys. Sorry you have had the load to carry."

"By Gawd, sir, we're silly blightcrs. We nearly left him!"

" Ah ! yes, but you had to bring him in if you were not certain. Never mind; it's the last trip. and we'll be out of here in the morning. Go and get your rum ration and have a sleep."

"Good night, sir."

"Good night, boys."

The Sergeant, meantime, has transferred the surviving cases to the horse ambulances and cheered them with a final word about Blighty.

" Good man, Sergeant; come and have a spot before you turn in."

" Thank you, sir. I'll just see the boys right first and I'll be there."

Thus Cairns concluded three weeks of cheerful work with his bearers. Three weeks of encouragement to the wounded, three weeks of unfailing support to his officers.

A month later I met him at a cricket match at the D.R.S., that well-known spot where " other ranks " sleep on real beds for nearly a fortnight of their sojourn in France.

I observed that Cairns was wearing a new hat, new slacks (issue), and a new pair of braces, and I conjectured that he was in some way connected with the Quartermaster's department of the Ambulance.

" Yes, Doc, -I'm right now-the best-dressed man in the unit-that's what I am."

"Congratulations, old man; you deserve it all."

"I have a pair of sheets to sleep in now, and a set of pyjamas, and a new hat every month," he confided.

"What would you like, Doc ? "

"How about a pair of slippers, Cairns?" I realised how sociable an affair a cricket match may be.

"Righto! " And I was promptly equipped. " Look here," he continued, "anything I can do for you or old McCullagh or Leys or ' Peter,' Doc, I'll do. We're old pals, old comrades we are. You know, too, and I know what you doctors have done. You'll do me. I've got friends, I have. If you want a good electric torch, I'll get one from the Ossies; they're white, they are. Of course, they call me a bit of a Socialist."

"I heard you were a Red Fed," interjected my companion.

"That's all right, old man, but I know how it is on parade and in front of the boys. ' Sir ' every time - that's me. But we've had many a laugh together, and we understand one another. Remember the time you put your tin hat on instead of the P.H. ? Well yes; perhaps I am a Socialist, but it don't do in war time. I've learned that, if I've learned nothing else. Of course, here in the Q.M. store I can call you Jockey Jack or even Charley Chaplin, even if you are M.D.'s, but that's because I know what you're made of, and you know old Cairns and you don't mind him. But on parade it's different. No personal remarks there -not for nuts. Of course, aprés the guerre we'll all be Socialists when we get on to old times. But you chaps know I've always held down my job."

"Yes. no one better, and I have often wondered you have not applied for a commission since they gave ambulance N.C.O.'s a chance."

"That's all right," responded Cairns. " I laughed at the idea of Cairns holding a commission at first, but I wrote to the missus about it, and she says- "Well, hold on, and I'll read you what she says." He produced the precious letter from his pay-book. " I Well, Kid, if you think you can do better work in the Trench Mortars or the Machine Guns, you do it. Don't change for the sake of the commission - that does not count with me, no more than it does with you. You would be just the same to me if you came back a Private, the same as you went away. I'm proud you are a Sergeant and got that medal, but if you think you could do better work as an officer and you want to go "over the top," as you call it, you go. I know what it means, Jim; every girl knows that by now. But don't you mind me; I'll go and look after your mother, Jim, and little Susie will be well cared for. But I wish you could have seen the little darling, Jim. She's just beginning to talk now."

"You see,- that's the trouble that's what I'm thinking about lately," concluded Cairns softly.

"Yes, that's the way with many others, Cairns. One learns a lot from censoring letters."

"But I think I'll go," he continued. "I've seen so many of the boys slothered up by old Fritz, now, that I feel I must have a go at him. I know I can be pretty handy with a machine-gun, and after all, I was born to England first - to England before the wife or kid."

"Yes, old man, that's what we all come to realise, but you would be a big loss to the old Ambulance, all the same."

"Never mind that -never mind that!" he exclaimed. "That's all right. The boys know all I know, and they can carry on without me. And if you or old Moray or old Creagh, or any of you officers that I've been proud to work with hear of me going out with my hand on a machine-gun, don*t worry, don't fret-old Cairns will have done his job. He may be a bit of a Socialist here in the Q.M. store -that's only silly old politics he wants to go home bad and all that - but Britain first - I was born to the old Empire first, and," he solemnly concluded, " no evacuation from here till the job is done."

After Messines you may have seen in the casualty list the name Lieut. J. Cairns, N.Z.M.G.C., but I hear that lie is doing well and will take a Military Cross back to " the missus " and Susie and the land we love better than Flanders.

N. Y. D. N.

THE CALL

BID good-bye to all the loved ones-sweetheart, mother, wife,
- Follow the bugle's martial note to the heart of the bitter strife.
- The voice of your country's sounding in the car of the brave and true,
- I pray to God with all my heart it's calling - calling You!
This is the law of battles, for Time has writ it clear,
- "I need not your old and feeble, send those who will know not fear;
- Send not your idle slackers, your make-believe, and your show,
- For grits the thing that matters most when fighting with the foe."
Right from the very beginning since we gripped our Empire fast,
- We've sent our best to guard the rest in serried armies massed;
- Father and brother and only son, and husband and chum and friend,
- And we'll make the same old sacrifice till we come to the bitter end.
For war has called with its old time lure-the lure that none can shun,
- And the call's struck home to a nation's heart, and the nation stands as one,
- It had wearied much of the easy life, the soft and the pampered way,
- And it rises up refreshed, renewed, to the dawn of a fighting day.
And the law of battles still firmly stands and calls you clear and strong,
- Send me your best and your bravest, come, send your men along!
- What matter it if they are "hard nuts" - In war such men will thrive,
- And the strong must die in battle that the weaker may survive.
Bid good-bye to all the loved ones - sweetheart, mother, wife,
- Follow the bugle's martial note to the heart of the bitter strife.
- The voice of your country's sounding in the ear of the brave and true,
- I pray to God with all my heart it's calling - calling You!

J. ATKINSON.

New Zealand at the Front: 1917. Part of the Digger History Group.