TRAINING
At the camp gate I said goodbye to Ted, and he promised to look me up in
a day or two, or as soon as he could. We made no heart-breaking affair
of the ceremony, and before I was inside the gate the ponies moved in
an opposite direction. I saw Ted touch them with the whip to get them
into their collars, then the buggy hood hid him and I saw him no more. I
picked my bag up, pulled out my pass, and walked towards the guard at the
entrance.
Rain had fallen on the previous day. No sooner was I inside, where the
ground had been trodden by horses and men, than I skated over a rink of
mud. But mud was a feature of the camp, as I found out afterwards.
There were no signs of Sunday here; all was as I left it two days before.
Hurry and disorder were present; truly there seemed more men, more horses
to pull into shape. The same workers passed to and fro; the same loafers
chatted amiably in restful corners; the same guards kept weary watch upon
their guns.
There was no hurry as far as I was concerned. From an island in the mud
I looked round; and when it was time to move forward, I went no farther
than the quartermaster’s tent, where the crowd of men and the heaps of
stores made progress a matter of tactics. True, my goal was the Brigade
Office, and in time I arrived there and stood waiting my turn. It was
not long before the clerk beckoned me inside, and for the second time I
was before the Colonel. I looked for my acquaintance Sands, who had not
put in an appearance. The Colonel spoke a few words; but business soon
took his attention, and I stood, baggage in hand, while an orderly went
for Captain Knight. Knight was a long time arriving, and finally arrived
in a hurry. I found out he commanded the ammunition column. He was quite
friendly and talked outside the tent several minutes. He ended by saying,
“From now you become Gunner Lake,” and then it seemed he recollected a
forgotten affair, for he broke off with, “Come on, I’ll hand you over to
the sergeant-major.”
On his heels he turned, and away we went towards the column office, he
leading, I following. We passed the cook-house on the way, where a long
row of iron pots sat astride the fire. A rickety shed, furnished with a
chopping block, basins, and other things, was the only protection from
the weather the cooks boasted. A man in a jersey and dungaree trousers
peeled potatoes, and a second big fat man chopped up vegetables. That was
all there was to see.
The sergeant-major sat in the office, and took charge of me. I waited
a long time while he went through business with a clerk; in truth I was
bored to death before he pushed the writing things away and got up. “Come
on,” he said, and went outside.
In the mud we slipped and slid by men in all dresses and all stages of
hurry. The horse-lines were impassable. The stout sergeant-major took
matters calmly, trailing me in his wake, with my baggage knocking round
my knees. We came in the end to a tent somewhere near the middle of a row
and stopped there.
“Corporal Black!” the sergeant-major called out.
A long, nervous-looking man came out of the tent, and stood to attention,
staring at us rather stupidly at the same time.
“Corporal,” the sergeant-major said, twisting his moustache ends, “this
man is going into your tent. His belongings are with him, and you can fix
him up with the other things. Start him to-morrow. His name is—what’s
your name?—Lake.”
The corporal introduced himself to me pleasantly enough, and the pair
of them fell to talking on other subjects—that is, the sergeant-major
talked and the corporal agreed. When the sergeant-major tired and moved
away, I was invited into the tent. Black showed me where to sleep, and
made me drop my kit there. There were bundles of blankets placed tidily
before the tent, and several articles of clothing and equipment hanging
from the pole in the centre; but none of the owners were present. The
corporal sat on a packing case and I sat down opposite. He looked me
all over, twitched his eyelids and began a talk of the camp in general,
describing everything as upside down, but telling me I was lucky in my
tent, as all the members were good fellows. He did not interest me much,
and I passed the time watching events outside. Did I look at him at all,
his eyelids started to twitch. Presently he tired of talking, so that a
lull fell between us, until he remembered I had not been issued with the
regulation blankets and eating utensils. He got up saying we would go to
the quartermaster’s store, which was close at hand. Out we went. A crowd
was about the place; but we got the quartermaster’s ear, and quite soon I
was loaded up with a waterproof sheet, a pair of blankets, and a knife,
fork, spoon, and pannikin.
Back at the tent again, the corporal told me I could do what I liked
until twelve o’clock, when the horses went to water. So I started a
journey of exploration within the artillery lines, looking at horses,
guns, waggons, and everything else. Work had slackened off—men washed
at the watertaps, cleaned their leggings, or wrote letters. Behind the
ammunition column lines were three batteries. The watering troughs were
in a far corner, and the whole camp, appropriately enough, overlooked
a cemetery. I was not too exact over the tour, because of the mud, and
finding the quartermaster’s tent again, I rested on a bagful of harness.
Sitting there I saw a sight surely not equalled since Noah organised the
march into the ark.
Along the road from the station came men and women and children; not
in tens, not in hundreds, but verily in thousands. In cabs they came,
in carts, in motors; they came on horses, on bicycles, on their feet.
All classes arrived to rub shoulders in the crush. Some walked fast and
some walked slowly; some were eager, some lagged behind; some were gay
and some depressed. Old and young appeared, mothers, wives, fathers,
children, uncles, aunts; in multi-coloured array for an hour they swept
by. Baskets, boxes, parcels, handbags came with them, filled, packed,
bulging with refreshment for the gallant volunteers. Outside the gate
the road grew impassable from vehicles commandeered for the assault; and
still foot passengers arrived. It might be an army transport waggon tried
to force a passage; but inevitably it jammed in the tide—nor sergeant’s
threats, nor sergeant’s prayers availed it.
The infantry lines swallowed most of the raiders; but enough stayed
behind to overflow our grounds. I was sorry to see so many elderly people
ploughing through the quagmire; and my sorrow went watching the girls in
silk stockings high-stepping through the mud.
Twelve o’clock came, and Corporal Black called out for me to give a hand
with the horses. Men in the section were away on leave, which made us
short-handed. I have said the water troughs were at the other end of
the compound, and in that direction we went. The rule was a man to two
horses; and from our column and each of the batteries issued an endless
line of horses. At the troughs was a long wait, and then one stood in a
couple of inches of water while the horses drank. Back to the lines, we
tied up, heel-roped, fed, and were dismissed.
Near our tent I ran into Knight and Sands talking together. Knight looked
up, and called me over. “Lake,” he said, “the Colonel has made you his
galloper, so you will leave the ammunition column and join the Brigade
Staff. You are lucky. I would almost as soon have the job as my own. You
have more chance of winning a V.C. than any man here.” Sands grinned but
said nothing. “You’ll stay in the column to-day,” Knight finished up,
“and shift in the morning.”
I thanked him and went on. It was good news, and came as a surprise.
At the tent I found it was lunch time. An iron pot of greasy stew was
outside, and Corporal Black ladled it out to men standing, plate in hand.
The men belonged to the tent, and I was introduced. They seemed good
enough fellows.
The stew failed to interest, but it did not matter, for we were given
no time to eat it. An order came along that horses had arrived for us,
and we must fall in at once. Everyone started to grumble, but out we had
to go. About a hundred men formed up in two ranks, and when there had
been sundry conferences of officers and a running about of N.C.O.’s, we
marched out of the gates at a smart pace. The crowd still arrived from
the station, though not in great numbers; and the road was absolutely
blocked with waiting vehicles. It was impossible to keep rank, and the
order was given to fall out. The horses were in a yard by the road,
drafted into pairs by remount men, and each one of us led a pair back to
camp.
The afternoon wore on, and by the time the horses were picketed the
trumpeter had blown “Water” and “Feed.” This brought the day’s work to
an end. I had tea—bread and jam and tea—and wandered forth on a second
journey of discovery. I watched the crowd of soldiers and visitors
talking and making love, until closing hour arrived and the latter
disappeared.
Finally the camp was empty of strangers. The stars came out, evening
aged into night, and the big enclosure was hushed. There was impatient
stamping of horses, there were the voices of pickets passing down the
lines: nothing more. I found the way back to my tent.
In the ground I hollowed a hip-hole, spread out the waterproof sheet, and
over it laid the blankets. The clothes I took off afterwards made the
pillow. I lay down and covered myself up. The others drifted in and made
their own beds.
Listening to the murmur of voices, watching shadows thrown from the one
candle by the tent-pole, I heard blown the “First Post,” the “Last Post,”
and “Lights Out.”
* * * * *
The week which followed brought endless bitter winds and uncharitable
showers. Not one sunny smile had it for the recruit.
At break of day “Réveillé” sounded through the camp. With the last
notes, I threw the blankets off, rubbed my eyes and with an effort got
up. The tent was open, showing a leaden sky where late stars hurried
away. The horses in the lines stood with drooping heads; and a picket,
muffled to the eyes, wandered along at funeral pace.
In the tent no one moved: breathing was even and serene. However, I
started to dress; and presently Corporal Black rolled over, sighed and
poked a nose out of the blankets. “Was that ‘Réveillé’?” he said huskily.
I nodded. He lay quite still, blinking his eyes; but growing more awake,
presently he sat up, and from his seat surveyed the slumberers. Then
he woke up in a hurry. “Get up there, you fellows,” he began to shout.
“‘Réveillé’s’ gone ten minutes!” Right and left he leaned, shaking all
he could reach; and slowly, and with many groans and an oath or two, the
tent awoke. By now I was dressed, and I left him doing his worst.
A second call sounded almost at once, and ten minutes later the “Fall
in” went. From every tent men came tumbling, some without leggings, some
drawing on their coats, half of the company with boots unlaced. A few
arrived from the watertaps with shining faces; and all headed towards
the parade ground beside the quartermaster’s tent. In lines, one behind
another, we fell in; and with the last stragglers still doubling up, the
roll was called. In five minutes the brigade marched into stables.
The routine was yesterday’s—watering, grooming, and feeding. When we
turned out, breakfast was ready. Breakfast meant a small chop, bread
and jam. After breakfast we paraded again for stables and exercising.
Exercising over, there was watering and feeding to go through. Then along
came lunch—stew and bread and jam.
I was sitting outside the tent, persuading myself we had finished a
damned good dinner, when I found a little corporal standing close by. He
was short, fat, and very young. When I looked up, he came forward and
began to speak in a hesitating fashion.
“You are Lake, aren’t you?” he said.
“Yes,” I answered, getting up.
“My name is Tank. I am corporal of the Brigade Staff. You’ve been put
on to the Staff, you know, and I’ve come along to tell you to bring any
baggage to our tent. We’re the four tents at the end of the row; but if
you’ll come along now, I can give you a hand.”
I thanked him and put things together. I told Corporal Black what was
happening, and soon was ready to start. The fellows in the tent nodded
goodbye and then we left. The new corporal was quite good-natured,
insisting on carrying some of the things.
A number of men sat by the Brigade Staff tents, contemplating without
interest the remains of the late feast. They looked me over with casual
stares; but the corporal said nothing. He led the way into the second
tent, which was empty except for blankets in their waterproof covers.
“Take the empty place over there,” he said, pointing with his hand. I
dropped my blankets and other gear where he suggested, and while I did
this he pulled a lot of chocolate from his pocket, handing me a large
piece and filling his own mouth. “You’ll be all right,” he said. “I have
to go up to Brigade Office now. Don’t go away, as we fall in soon.” He
hesitated a moment, and then went through the doorway.
I arranged my kit in a better way, for there was no room to spare, and
then followed him out. The other fellows of the Staff still sat and lay
round the tents; but I knew none of them, and walked a little way off
towards the parade ground.
There had been a few gleams of sun about midday; but it was getting
bitterly cold again. Half the men had on their coats, and the horses in
the lines were rugged up. I pushed my hands into my pockets and turned my
back to the wind. I was not exactly hungry, but the stew could have been
more interesting.
“Aye, my friend, behind you the gates are closed. Uncharitable skies and
stony beds henceforth shall be your portion. Months shall it be ere you
taste of comfort’s draught again. Though your tears be bitter, none but
yourself shall mourn, for yours—yours was the choice.”
The trumpeter blew “Fall in,” and I doubled for the parade ground; fast
behind me the others hurried up. After roll call Corporal Tank marched
the Staff to the back of the Brigade Office tent, and formed us up in two
rows. Then he disappeared inside. He had been gone a very little time
before the bitter winds tested and found wanting our slender discipline.
The men began to shuffle their feet, to twist about, and next to
break rank. A pair started a boxing match, others played leap-frog.
What remained turned spectators or broke out into cursing the weather
and themselves as fools for volunteering. Before long not a man was in
his place; and behold, without warning, from the tent stepped forth
dramatically my old acquaintance Sands himself. He gave a preliminary
stony stare, before bursting into wrath.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? Is this a parade or a
damned circus? I don’t know how a lot of bally fools like you managed to
join; you must have escaped from the nursery! Fall in at once! Next time
all leave is stopped!”
He had by no means finished. He tried indignation and failed; he tried
sarcasm and failed; he tried appealing to our feelings and failed
utterly. In the end he was incoherent and collapsed.
The corporal had followed him from the tent with a bundle of flags, white
and blue. These were handed round.
“Now we’re doing station work this afternoon,” Sands announced with
a blow of his nose. “Have you all got pencils and paper?” Nobody had
anything. “Oh, how absolutely damnable!” He beat the air. “What do you
mean by coming out like this? You are worse than babies! Go and get them.
The next man that comes out without a pencil can consider himself under
arrest!” From the abashed ranks an individual wandered forth in search
of pencils. Sands watched with darkening brow. “Double, man, double!” he
screamed at last. The figure broke into a heavy canter and was lost among
the tents.
While we waited, Sands and the corporal held a conference. It was not
possible to hear what was said; but at the end of it Sands turned
about with the order, “Fall out those men who have done no semaphore
signalling.” Half a dozen of us stepped forward, I among them. “Take
these men, Corporal, start them on the alphabet. They won’t want flags.
See that you keep them at it: there is very little time for this sort of
thing.” The corporal saluted, Sands saluted. The corporal cried, “’Shun!
Right turn, quick march,” and away we went over the mud to a deserted
corner. “Halt! Left turn. Stand at ease”: and there we were in line
facing him.
The afternoon was full of hurrying clouds—restless, cheerless clouds—and
the eager winds which had roamed all day over the open country swooped
gladly upon me. I found a handkerchief and blew my nose lustily, cursing
at heart the corporal for choosing such a barren spot. He on his own
account looked blue and uneasy; but his fat helped him.
“Pay attention,” he said. The squad looked up. In short jerky sentences
he explained the principles of signalling, illustrating the position of
“Prepare to signal,” and other matters. Presently we stood at “Prepare.”
“Now we’ll try the first circle—Ak to G. To prevent mistakes, A is
pronounced Ak, B is Beer, D is Don. Now commence. Ak, Beer, C, Don; E, F,
G.”
Away went his arm, and away after it went ours. “Again now. Repeat.
Repeat again.” Round and round the circle went our arms, with many halts
and delays. It was tiring and bitterly cold work; but we were kept at
it. All the while I could hear the beating of boughs in the pine trees
behind, and could see tents pulling at their guys and rugs flapping on
the horses.
Sands had formed up in pairs the remainder of the Staff, one pair
opposite another pair, and these pairs waved flags and did sundry other
things. For the first half-hour a fair amount of work was got through;
but it happened that Sands had an appointment, or grew tired or cold or
something, for he disappeared and left the signalling to its fate. A tall
fellow called Oxbridge threw down his flags at once. “Damn this,” he
said, and fell on to the ground. The others followed him; and though Tank
walked across and threatened, nobody cared. So he came back to us again;
and set us at our Ak, Beer, C. One by one the other party drew together,
and soon a pleasant little conversation went forward, spoilt only by the
inclement afternoon.
At last Tank dismissed us for a few minutes’ spell. The fellows wandered
off in different directions, while Tank came over to me and attempted a
conversation. He struck me as a curious chap, dissatisfied with things,
yet unready to make efforts to right them. I began to suspect him as a
poor disciplinarian; he on the contrary blamed the muddled condition of
affairs to Sands, who, he said, was no good and heart-breaking to work
under. I listened but poorly, it was too cold, and, turning on his heels
presently, he ordered the signallers to fall in anew, which they did
after argument. Round and round went our arms again until the trumpeter
blew “Stables.”
All that week wind and storm prevailed, and all the week we stood in the
open signalling. At the end of three or four days there was no man who
was not sneezing, sniffling, and coughing.
Week by week it was the same thing. It was stables, stables, stables;
and signalling, signalling, signalling, with now and then a lesson
on the director, plotter, or rangetaker, and now and then a lecture.
The lectures were before a black-board in a tent; Sands gave them,
and halfway through he would become tangled up beyond vaguest hope of
extrication. But that was small matter to him. He would go outside and
read up what he had forgotten, and come back and bounce us. We had riding
drill, and we practised galloping in and out of action; also we had small
manœuvres on our own account, and, things shaping better, the complete
brigade manœuvred presently, first alone, afterwards in combination with
the infantry.
The camp endured several weeks, and during that time the weather did not
change. Very soon every man was sick to death of the whole affair. It was
belief in our quick departure that alone sustained us. For constantly it
was rumoured we were about to start on our great adventure, and once or
twice we went as far as to make preparation. Disappointment was not borne
in silence. But most things come at last. One dark and chilly morning
found us clattering through Melbourne streets on the road to the wharf.