New Zealand at the Front 1917; Pages 135 to 149

DONKS: HE is known officially as Mule, but throughout the Army "Donk" has come to be his universal sobriquet. To many the word "donk" may appear a term of ridicule, of irreverence, quite devoid of any semblance of respect or sympathy, but seek ye the first Army driver who has a pair of mules to look after and learn his opinions.

His face will assume an expression of many and conflicting emotions. If he be honest in his views and informative, he will tell you that he loves his donks, and in the next breath he will confound you by saying that he hates them.

He will say, with many lurid embellishments which is "a way they have in the A-r-r-my "-that they are treacherous, unsympathetic, and devoid of any spark of intelligence. Again, he will contradict himself and relate to you, with shining eyes, an unending number of anecdotes in proof of their loyalty, love, and profound sagacity.

Shortly he will drop his reserve and his expression will rapidly alternate from affection to detestation, pride to shame, joy to sorrow, anger to pity, and he will pour into your bewildered ears such a medley of contradictions, absurdities, enthusiasm, regrets, hopes and anticipations as never was heard in the world before. And he will conclude his oration with the confidential information, uttered in a half whisper and with a glance around to ascertain that none others are within hearing, that his - particular two donks are the last thing in donk flesh - the best donks in the unit probably in the Division--quite likely on the Western Front, - aye, and he means and believes it.

Among the most interesting and characteristic traits in a donk's character you will gather that they have :
- 1. An abnormally developed and embarrassing sense of humour.
- 2. An extreme partiality for mischief, often of a painful nature.
- 3. A remarkable power of reasoning which manifests in a hundred curious directions.
- 4. A sense of locality which is amazing.
- 5. An aptitude for trying, and often succeeding, to do the opposite thing to that which his driver requires of him.
- 6. An appalling lack of all sense of the fitness of things, and a total absence of a sense of proportion.
- 7. A remarkable appetite for oily rags, rope, horse covers, wooden posts, water-troughs, leather, and suchlike edibles.

These attributes may, and probably will, appear contradictory and unlikely, but the catalogue is based upon actual experience.

The blokes wots at the guns does all the eyewash stunts. I'd like ter see some er them gun coves ridin' and leadin' a couple er donks with contrary notions. I reckon it would put the wind up 'em a bit. Wot gets over me, though, is the eternal groomin'. Yer gets one er yer donk's nice and clean and shinin' like a new franc, and then 'e shows 'is bloomin' independence and lays down an' 'as a thunderin' good roll in the muddiest place 'e can find.

Then er course yer start all over again and calls 'im 'is usual name and tells 'im wot yer thinks of 'is relations and ancestors. Now and again a bloke gits a spasm er enthusiasm an' puts a bit er unnatural ginger inter 'is job, an' works up a thumpin' good appetite for 'is bully beef stew.

At other times a bloke gets told that the Colonel is comin' round ter look at 'is donks, or maybe the C.R.A. or the G.O.C. and then er course le works up a sort er compulsory enthusiasm - you know, wot the 'Uns call a substitute.

Then there's yer bloomin' harness al-ways requirin' attendin' to. Yer get to yer bed at night-that's if yer not on picket or guard, which more'n likey yer are and yer dreams er oilin' steelwork and wipin' girths and breast collars and sich like and yer wakes up in the mornin' at 5.30 a.m. with a dreary outlook on the world gen'rally and the Army in pertikler, as the sayin' goes.

I've given up readin' the war news in the papers. I'm sick er readin' the war news in the papers now. I'm sick er readin' erbout retirin' and advancin' accordin' ter plan ter previously prepared_possies. I wish some er those Monsieur Communiques would groom my donks and clean my 'arness accordin' ter plan there'd be somethin' in it then.

This mornin' I was bloomin' well inoculated for the umteenth time, an' the needle was bloomin' well the bluntest I've struck yet, wich is sayin' a lot. I s'pose ter-morrow I'll be achin' all over me body, an' feelin' sick an' gen'rally rotten.

'Owever, wot's the good er thinkin' erbout it? It's a good job for the Allies I'm a optimistic bloke, an' always looks on the bright side er things. I wouldn't like ter be one er those grousin' coves who-- `Ullo I Dammit, there goes "Stables" again. I'll 'ave ter 'urry!

MULE SENSE : One night, whilst a wagon was halted by the roadside with the drivers dismounted, the team suddenly took fright and bolted, breaking away from their drivers. After going for about 100 yards one of the donks fell, the harness was dragged off him, and he was left behind in a much bruised and battered condition. The drivers gave chase, but were soon outdistanced and obliged to give up. The team, with the wagon, continued on their way, safely passed a number of turnings and crossings, and, despite the darkness, finally turned the, last corner close to their own lines and then broke into a walk. Tho sentry on duty duly challenged, received no reply, challenged again, and then became aware that it was a wagon and team minus the drivers. Recognising the wagon, he opened the gate, the team swung into the wagon park, halted in its correct place, and waited to be unharnessed. The picket was called and the donks unharnessed, watered, and fed. When three disconsolate drivers and a damaged mule arrived back in camp an hour later and reported the loss of their wagon and team, -their surprise may be better imagined than described.

SURCINGLE.

IN THE HALF LIGHT

THE bombardment, which for a time had sounded like the preliminary to an enemy raid, had ceased. Everything was quiet. Indeed, it seemed to Private William Jones, as he raised himself on his elbow and looked across the bivvy and out into the trench, that the silence, was a trifle uncanny. There was a moon somewhere above the clouds, but only a few ineffectual rays reached the earth, and Jones could only dimly make out the side of the trench opposite.

His two companions were asleep, and he wondered when Charlie Perry, the fourth occupant of the post, would return from his short trip for water. Some distance away a machinegun spluttered for a few seconds, and one of the sleepers stirred uneasily. It was Bert Collis, a fairly recent arrival, and Jones wondered if he were dreaming of the wife and children he had left behind in the Waikato.

Wasn't it almost humorous ? Here was Bert, worth several thousand pounds, living on tea and bully beef, filling sandbags to Hun music an day, and sleeping on boards when he could. Next him was David Thompson, the dentist, originally from Scotland. Jones wondered whether he would have tried the Dental Corps had he known what muck and slush the Infantry had to go through.

A lonely sort of a night ! It was just about time Charlie got back. He was a bit of a problem, now-a wife and kids and also a widowed mother back in New Zealand, and yet always the most cheerful as well as the bravest chap in- the whole outfit.

The light suddenly became brighter. The moonlight coming through the mist lit up the trench.

Hallo ! Somebody was walking along the trench-more than one by the sound.

Yes, there were two of them. When they came abreast of the bivvy they stopped and sat down on the duck-boards as if waiting for somebody. Jones was surprised to find that neither wore the regulation khaki and equipment. One was dressed in a sort of red coat and a big shako; the other had on a queer kind of steel helmet, and looked like some metal protection for his chest. They must be some sort of foreign soldiers looking, round thought Jones; but he hadn't heard that any new troops taking over this portion of the Line.

They spoke in low voices. Only part of their conversation could be heard. Jones strained his ears.

"Not much to do to-night," the one in the helmet was saying in a foreign accent. " We've done it all, and had a good look round too."

" Yes. It's just the same, really, you know; the same old troubles, but the boys are just the same, too. . . . That shell gave me 'a start -the way it burst; but those fellows forgot it in half a second. Talk about spirit ! "

" Quite so. . . . There weren't many wanted cheering on to-night . . . more than once it has needed all we could do. . . . Same old mine and sap. Feels homey. I almost wish I was in this. It's a war all right, and, as far as human work goes, the noblest cause yet."

A soldier's silence-both thinking the same thing.

"Strange the chaps we have to take-all the best. I wonder if those left will be equal to the responsibilities afterwards ? Back home, I mean carrying on."

Two more men were heard approaching, and Jones turned his puzzled eyes to see who they were. One voice he recognised was Perry's. So he was back at last. About time! But Perry didn't make any movement toward his blankets. He seemed to be strangly worried, "'rattled," Jones thought--and quite unlike himself.

"Why choose me?" he was asking his companion, who, Jones saw, was also dressed in some outlandish costume. "Look at what I am leaving.. . Can't I stay ? There is so much to do here."

"Don't think you'll be idle," replied the other, as the two who had first arrived stood up and greeted the New Zealander ceremoniously. " Take heart. We must choose those who are worthy. And don't worry about those in New Zealand. You will see them soon. Anyway, they are in good hands."

Before Jones realised it the whole party had gone. " See New Zealand soon ! " he mused. " There goes an optimist. I wonder what's on ? Charlie can't be going far. He hasn't taken any of his gear."

It seemed only a few minutes later that Jones heard Bert Collis calling his name, but it was daylight, so he knew he had slept.

" Charlie back yet ? " he asked.

"Charlie?" replied Bert. " No. He's not back, and be won't be coming now. A five-nine landed in the trench soon after he left us last night. It got him and wounded another man."

"But I saw him pass along the trench before I went to sleep."

"Couldn't have I He got it just along there a bit. Lasted a while, unconscious, but they couldn't move him. A chap told me who was right along-side, and got a couple of scratches.'*

"That's funny" mused Jones. "It's uncanny! They said he was going back to New Zealand."

Aotea roa truly ; but it was that land of the long white cloud which is over the edge of the earth.

MOA

YER talks of airmen heroes, an' of gunners wot is brave,
- Yer cavalry a-chargin' 'crost the fields in line,
- An' of the crews of these 'ere Tanks wot makes the flappers rave,
- A-drivin' all the 'Uns back to the bloomin' Rhine;
- But there's another lot o' chaps of 'oom there ain't much skite,
- And them's the bloomin' infantry wot's always in the fight!
They're -writin' in the papers of a scientific war.
- An' not of winnin' it by men but by machines-
- Mechanical devices are the ones wot's goin' to score
- An' new inventions wot'll give the Germans beans;
- But when it- comes to rootin' out the cunnin' wily 'Un,
- The infantry must do it with the bay'nit an' the gun
Yer takes yer Daily Mail an' sees the picters on the back.
- Of Lizzles, which is most enormous for a gun;
- Of mother's little Willie on a lovely chestnut 'ack
- 'Is spurs an' all 'is gear a-gleamin' in the sun.
- It's seldom they portrays the phiz o' Dick, or Bill, or Bert,
- 'Cause when the photo mans about they're mostly smeared with dirt !
An' when we're in the line they sends us out on night patrols,
- A-crawlin' on our stummicks to old Fritz's wire;
- Next day, if we're alive, we're set to linkin' up shell holes
- Good Gawd ! they seems to kind o' think we never tire !
- We're always diggin' dug-outs, diggin' trenches, diggin' graves.
- Yer talks o' Britons' freedom ? - Strewth We most resembles slaves !
We live in dirty dug-outs, where the water's thick as mud,
- We often 'as ter squat down in a slimy pool;
- We're always under shell fire, an' we're lucky if they're "dud"
- The things we finds upon, our togs is somethin' crool !
- We grouse an' growl an' curse it, but, if fightin's on the go,
- The infantry is ready, an' I'd like ter let yer know !
The poor old blarsted infantry, wot travels on its feet ;
- The boys wot's takin' all the knocks, but little praise;
- They'll fight in Balkan blizzards, or in Egypt's grillin' 'eat,
- An' feed on bully beef an' stew for days and days.,
- The cavalry an' gunners may seem smarter on their mokes,
- But when we go acrost the top - why, we're the bloomin' blokes
Yer talks o' airmen 'eroes, an' ol gunners wot is brave,
- Yer cavalry a-chargin' 'crost the fields in line,
- An' of the crews o' these 'ere Tanks, which makes the-flappers rave,
- A-drivin' all the 'Uns back far beyolnd the line ;
- But don't ferget the other chaps of 'Oom,there ain't much skite
- The poor ole blarsted infantn-, wot's into every fight !

P. J. JORY.