EN ROUTE FOR EGYPT
We boast no more of our bloodless flag that rose from a nation's slime;
Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time.
From grander clouds in our "peaceful skies" than ever were there before
I tell you the Star of the South shall rise–in the lurid clouds of war....
All creeds and trades will have soldiers there–give every class its due–
And there will be many a clerk to spare for the pride of the jackeroo....
But, oh! if the cavalry charge again as they did when the world was wide,
'Twill be grand in the ranks of a thousand men in that glorious race to ride
And strike for all that is true and strong, for all that is grand and brave,
And all that ever shall be, so long as man has a soul to save.
HENRY LAWSON.
With Australasia, as with the motherland, the first honours of war fell
to the fleet; and whilst the fleet was gathering them in, recruiting for
the armies continued briskly through August, September, October, with
intervals of suspension because the recruits kept offering themselves in
such numbers and so much faster than they could possibly be equipped. By
September the New Zealand Maoris refused to be left out of it any
longer, and applied for permission to raise and supply a separate corps
of volunteers for active service, and no sooner was the offer accepted
than the corps was ready, with a big overflow of applicants on a waiting
list, in case reinforcements were needed. At the same time the Urewara
Maoris, the tribe most recently in arms against the State, presented the
Government with 1,600 acres of land to be turned to account as a
contribution to the Empire Defence Fund.
All Australia and New Zealand were roused as nothing had ever roused
them before; and the glowing enthusiasm and determination of their
peoples, instead of wearying a little with the passing of the days, rose
and intensified. In the beginning the thousands of soldiers to be sent
to the front were fixed at definite totals; but before the end of
September, New Zealand had made it clear that the size of her contingent
would be limited by nothing but the number of her men who were fit to
handle a gun; and Mr. Fisher had said for Australia, at a meeting in
connection with the Australian Expeditionary Force, "Not 1 per cent. of
the people of the Commonwealth are unfavourable to sending as many
contingents as may be necessary to ensure victory over Germany and
settle this matter once for all. Many Australians would rather be dead
than in the grip of the dominion of another people. We mean to leave an
honourable name behind us, even if we must perish to maintain it." And
that these were no idle words Gallipoli has borne and is bearing
witness.
In that month of September, Melbourne and Adelaide, Sydney and Brisbane,
all the great cities of the Commonwealth States, were filling their
streets to pay homage to the troops that marched through from the
training grounds in full war equipment, ready and eager for the order to
embark. To describe one such memorable spectacle is to describe them
all, for the same great spirit was abroad from end to end of the land.
"For the first time since the war broke out," says _The Melbourne Age_
for the 26th September, "Melbourne was afforded an opportunity of seeing
in force the troops who are to form Victoria's contingent at the front.
To the number of about 5,000 they marched through the city between 11
a.m. and 1 p.m." It was a day of rain and sleet, but the weather was of
little consequence either to the soldiers or the onlookers. "From the
north, by train and by road the troops poured into the city, and while
they were mustering on the northern boundaries the people were
assembling in tens of thousands along the principal streets. For this
was to be the city's farewell to these men who were going out to take
their place in the fight for the integrity of the Empire, and it was
clear from the start that it was going to be no half-hearted affair. For
weeks past soldiers had been passing through Melbourne, sometimes in
small parties, sometimes in large squads, while ever and anon there had
been lines of ambulance wagons going by, or the houses had shaken to the
rumbling of big guns. But yesterday all these units were gathered into
an Army to be reviewed by the Commander-in-Chief of the Commonwealth
forces." The Light Horse rode in from camp through a pelting rain; hardy
bushmen, most of them, drawn from the remote back-lands of the State.
They and their horses were drenched, but their cheerfulness was not even
damped. They rode in and halted along King Street, between Collins and
Bourke Streets, to await the arrival of the infantry. Wild squalls of
wind and sleet drove the crowd to scatter and find temporary shelter
where they could, but as soon as the clamant call of the bugle sounded
and the infantry divisions were seen marching sturdily up through the
rain from Spencer Street Station the waiting myriads forgot everything
else and raced back into their places, till the long streets were
narrowed to a living, cheering lane from start to finish of the line of
route.
[Illustration: CAMP OF THE AUSTRALIANS AT MUDROS BAY.]
[Illustration: SULTAN OF EGYPT VISITS THE DARDANELLES WOUNDED.]
[Illustration: SECOND DIVISION LEAVING MUDROS BAY WITH AUSTRALIANS
ON THE FORE DECK.]
It was not more than five or six weeks since most of the soldiers in
these disciplined, perfectly ordered ranks had gone out of the city,
pallid, weedy, slack, slouching, from sedentary, cramping shop or office
or factory life: now they came back into it, from the training grounds,
bronzed, hardened, alertly alive. They went out straggling regiments of
raw recruits, shouting to passers-by, singing and laughing carelessly as
they went: they came back silent, steady men-at-arms, erect, soldierly,
and with the look and bearing of men who had dedicated themselves to a
great purpose, and meant to fulfil it.
At the word of command, the Light Horse moved forward, and, preceded by
their field ambulances and service wagons, company after company of the
smartest, keenest infantry that ever stepped in khaki followed them.
At intervals the rain stopped, the clouds blew apart, and the sun shone,
and under sun or rain, with swords and bayonets gleaming and regimental
bands crashing out lively marching tunes, these warrior sons of
Australia advanced into the city whose streets and shops and houses were
all a-flutter with flags and handkerchiefs and endlessly a-roar with
friendly voices of welcome. It was a day of high and great emotions; a
day to be remembered by all who shared in its stirring pageantry until
their last of days; and if there were tears in the eyes of hundreds who
were cheering in the dense-packed throng that lined the way, they were
tears of pride in these sons and brothers and sweethearts who had given
themselves so wholly and so gallantly to the service of their country. I
spoke of them just now as raw recruits, and most of them were; but 700
of that 5,000 had war ribbons on their breasts, for they had fought in
the South African Campaign. One such was Colonel Elliott, who led the
7th Battalion; fifteen years before he had marched through these same
streets as a private in the contingent that was then leaving for South
Africa.
The waiting mass of spectators ahead in Russell Street could look up the
long perspective of Collins Street and see the sinuous khaki line
flowing in from the hills beyond, between the dark banks of cheering
people, and they took up the cheering and passed it on to thousands
gathered farther in the city. As the troops came forward the multitude
closed in behind and followed, an ever-swelling, tumultuous, joyous sea
of humanity. Two flags marked the saluting base in front of the steps of
Parliament House, in Bourke Street, and in readiness on the steps were
the Prime Minister, Mr. Fisher, Senator Pearce, the Minister of Defence,
and Major-General Bridges, in command of the whole Australian
contingent, and they were presently joined by Colonel J. W. McCay, who
had led the march through the streets to this spot. Shortly before the
soldiers came in sight, the Governor-General and Lady Helen Ferguson
drove up; and standing at the foot of the steps under the united flags
of Great Britain and Australia the Governor took the salute as the long
procession of horse and foot went streaming past.
"The immensely significant and important thing about yesterday's
demonstration," continues the reporter, "was that every man who took
part in it was a volunteer. No military despotism had driven them to
war. From many parts of Victoria, from the public schools, and the State
schools, from the cities and the back blocks, from homes of comparative
luxury, and from homes of poverty these men had volunteered. In the
march past yesterday all social distinctions were blotted out. They were
all Australians–Britons by blood and descent, by temperament and
tradition–and yet essentially Australians–the biggest contingent for the
biggest war ever taken part in by Australia"–or, indeed, by any nation
on the face of the earth since the beginning of time.
Once well past the saluting point, the ceremonial march was practically
finished, and it came to an actual end at the top of Elizabeth Street.
Here, as everywhere, there were countless crowds to give the khakied
ranks a rousing reception; some swarmed after the cavalrymen, who rode
aside into the Hay Market and there dismounted to feed and water their
horses and take an interval of rest and refreshment. The infantry,
however, wheeled into Flemington Road and continued its march until it
arrived in Royal Park, where a halt was called, and directly the word to
"stand at ease" was given, arms were grounded, bayonets sheathed, the
ranks broke up, and the men drifted this way and that to find among the
thousands of civilians who were overflowing the Park the friends or
relatives who were there in search of them.
There was an hour of impromptu picnicking, soldiers and civilians
clustering in little groups; for the sky had cleared by now, and the wet
grass was a matter of no account on such a day as this; then the bugles
sounded the "fall in," and in a few minutes the men had lined up in
ranks again, and in a few more minutes, with mounted officers before and
beside them and to the music of drums and brasses, the four battalions
swept out into Royal Park Road at the quick march and set forth on the
return journey to their camp at Broadmeadows.
When the principal part of the town was left behind "march at ease" was
the order of the hour, and rifles were slung over shoulders, cigarettes
or pipes lighted, and presently the last of the following crowd, that
had thinned out and dropped away and was going back home, could scarcely
hear the playing of the band above the gay uproar of the hundreds of
voices singing "Who'll go a-fighting with the Kaiser and me?" and, when
they had had enough of that, joining as heartily in "It's a long way to
Tipperary"–the song that none of us can ever hear again unmoved, so many
thousands of our own people have gone singing it to death or glory on
the stricken fields of Flanders.
In this wise Melbourne welcomed and said good-bye to that 2nd Brigade of
hers; and in similar fashion Sydney, Adelaide, Brisbane honoured their
soldier sons; then, for certain weeks they continued their preparations
and waited impatiently in their camps for the signal from oversea that
should summon them into the battle-line; and it was hailed everywhere
with exultant enthusiasm when it came at last and they could strike
their tents and go.
By this date, the third week in November of 1914, the effective Army of
Australia had grown to nearly 40,000 troops of all arms, and there were
not far short of 2,000 men in the Navy. In addition there was now a
Citizen Army of 56,298, fully armed and equipped; 51,153 members of
rifle clubs, and 67,153 reservists, making a grand total of 164,633. But
even these figures look small when compared with what they have risen to
in the year that has passed since then.
It was on the 18th November that the combined Australian and New Zealand
Expeditionary Forces set out from Albany, Western Australia, for the
front. They filled thirty-six transports that steamed out of King
George's Sound in four stately columns, with the _Orverto_ as flagship.
All on the wharves and round about them a dense, innumerable throng
stood to watch the departure–stood and watched it in a strangely
impressive silence. Not until the last ship had its living freight
aboard and the tug was towing it out to take its place in the great
armada did the crowd seem to catch its heart up suddenly and shatter the
almost unbearable stillness with volley after volley of thunderous
cheers. And the men on the ships, clustering along the sides, or
climbing the rails, waved their hands and hats and sent back an
answering salvo that only dwindled and altogether ceased when the shore
had receded so far that the crowds that were watching the ships till
they had passed from sight could barely be distinguished. But the
emotions such a parting stirred were too painful, too harrowing, and
"There should be no farewells like that," said one of the troopers when
it was over.
The destination of the troopships was unknown, except to the chief
officers; some had an idea that they were going to England, some that
they were making direct for France and the trenches in Flanders, but all
knew before the earlier half of their fortnight's voyage was done that
they were to land, in the first place, at Alexandria. None of them cared
particularly where it was, so long as they were brought, without too
much delay, within reach of the enemy.
The navies of the Empire made a safe pathway over the thousands of miles
of sea, and the journey was as uneventfully peaceful as if there had
been no war in progress. It might even have been a little monotonous if
the men had not been so high-spirited and so fertile in inventing
amusements when they were not kept well occupied with drilling and
physical exercises. At six in the morning réveillé was sounded, and by
the time the bugle pealed for "lights out," at nine at night, everybody
was comfortably tired and ready enough to sleep. During the day, between
intervals of drilling, signalling practice, and general exercise, there
were rifle practice, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, racing, jumping matches, to
improve the fitness of the troops in all directions; and from time to
time, in quiet corners about the deck, small groups would gather to
listen while an officer read descriptions of past battles and expounded
military tactics; and on the vessels that carried the cavalry there was
a good deal of extra work to do in exercising and looking after the
horses. Every evening the band played, and after it had finished the men
got up free-and-easy sing-songs among themselves. But before 10 o'clock
the ships were all in darkness and no sounds were to be heard except the
surge and splash of the waters and perhaps a busy rattle of typewriters
from the cabins of the headquarters staff. The genial spirit of
comradeship between officers and men helped to make the wheels of the
whole organisation run smoothly as well as effectively; the most perfect
discipline was maintained without anything of that Prussian arrogance in
the higher commands which passes for military capacity; for your
Australasian private is an especially free man, and is rightly conscious
of no inferiority to his officers, but has the good sense to recognise
that they are appointed to lead him and that as a matter of simplest
common sense he must render them a strict and willing obedience whilst
he is on duty. And the officers are as democratic as their men and wear
their dignity easily, and as an official not as a personal superiority.
All which naturally tends to promote general harmony and good feeling,
and they tell me that this was the prevailing atmosphere on every one of
the transports, this and an unquenchable gaiety and cheerfulness that
made the long voyage as jolly as if it had been a holiday outing instead
of the grim, determined business that it really was.
On the last day of November the transports entered the Red Sea and had
glimpses of Turkish territory on the starboard bow. They left the Gulf
of Suez behind, and as they were passing through the Canal had their
first welcome from some of the men who were to be their comrades in the
battles that lay before them. There was a camp of Indian troops a little
above Suez, and, says a _Melbourne Age_ correspondent who was on one of
the transports, "we saw a squad of them come running over the sand,
jumping over trenches, while others came pouring out from behind
fortifications down to the banks of the Canal, where they cheered in
answer to the cheers of the 5th Battalion on the flagship."
About here, or when they sighted Port Said, the Australasians carefully
oiled their boots, for the first time since they left Albany, and began
to make ready for the end of the journey and going ashore; and by the
3rd December they had emerged into the Mediterranean and landed with all
their stores and equipment at Alexandria.
5
CHRISTMAS AT THE PYRAMIDS
[Illustration: THE LAST SERVICE ON BOARD THE "LONDON" FOR THE AUSTRALIANS.]
[Illustration: THE DARDANELLES–AUSTRALIANS AND BLUEJACKETS ON A TRANSPORT.]