MAC TAKES A CHANGE
The behaviour of Mac's stomach was not all that it might have been,
besides which rheumatism began to develop, so he contemplated a short
spell on the Island of Lemnos. It was a place truly to be desired.
There the distant reverberation of the Cape Helles artillery could only
just be heard, one might walk in the open and bathe without having to
worry about snipers or shrapnel, and, moreover, there were ships with
canteens and, perhaps, a good meal. So, one evening, ticketed and
labelled, and with the combined financial assets of his section in his
pocket, he waited for embarkation at the Cove. Many others were there,
about half wounded and the rest medical.
Night-time at the Cove was always beautiful. The starry brightness
above the blackness of the sea, the steep rising face of the hill, with
the twinkling lights and flickering fires of the bivouacs, the throng
of toilers among the great piles of stores, the mules and water-carts
crunching along the gravel, the wounded waiting embarkation--Mac saw
what might be called the throbbing heart of Anzac. It throbbed, for
the most part, in darkness; but, here and there, caught in the
half-light from lamps among tiered piles of boxes, he had odd glimpses
of the splendid fellows as they went about their work; and he was
thrilled by the grandeur and manhood of it all.
Hours passed. Then a musical call through a megaphone, "Walking-cases
this way," woke them to attention. They were all embarked on a
lighter, and were towed, first by a pinnace, and then by a minesweeper,
out into the bay, until high above them, aglow with green, red and
yellow lights, reared the steel sides of a hospital-ship. A steam
crane swung each giddily upward, and deposited him on the clean white
deck.
Mac didn't quite know where he was that night. He accepted a dose of
medicine and some kind words from a medical officer, absorbed a cup of
hot cocoa and a piece of bread and butter--almost forgotten luxuries
and found himself at length in a comfortable bunk with white sheets.
Very faintly from the heights across the water floated sounds of
strife; and Mac, with a sigh of supreme satisfaction, turned over and
went to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, a white girl--a sister--was standing
beside his bunk. He was shy--he felt so rough. It seemed ages since
he had seen a woman.
At ten o'clock, the light cases for Lemnos transferred to a
mine-sweeper, and thence to a fleet-sweeper. All the afternoon the
vessel steamed across sunlit seas and in the evening entered Mudros
Harbour, passing through the great fleet that lay there, transatlantic
liners, men-o'-war ancient and modern, hospital-ships, transports and
small craft of every description, to an anchorage on the east of the
harbour. The patients were landed in launches, and made their way, in
a long straggling line of decrepits, to the field hospitals.
Mac found a resting place in the 1st Australian Stationary Hospital,
and passed a week there. He was relegated to a large marquee, the
sides of which were always rolled up. In the centre stood two tables,
one occupied by medicines and the other by the dishes and food of the
establishment. Stretched on the ground was a large tarpaulin, whereon,
with a blanket apiece, eighty or more _hors de combat_ heroes had their
abode. Everything was as good as could be had in Mudros; but in those
days Mudros lacked almost everything that could be desired. The
water-supply was bad; food, in the Australian hospital was ample, and,
for fare under such conditions, excellent, but in other hospitals it
lacked lamentably. Inhabitants of the latter envied greatly those who,
by good fortune or intrigue, were lodged in the former.
In the day-time the sun blazed down with fierce heat upon the marquees,
the slightest breath of wind stirred into clouds the many inches of
fine dust which covered the ground, and flies of many breeds were there
in their pernicious millions. Vermin stalked by night; and odd moments
of the day might profitably be spent in reprisals on these bloodthirsty
beasts. Those were the sorry points of the place; but there were also
good.
Immediately alongside the hospital, though officially out of bounds,
was the village of Mudros East, a quaint place where there was always
some fun to be had. Low stone, tile-roofed houses, with narrow dusty
alleys--where congregated squalid children, mangy dogs, poultry and
evil smells--clustered round a low hill surmounted by a large maternal
Greek church. This latter was tawdry in the extreme, with wonderful
symbolic pictures, icons, candle grease and cheap furniture. Over all,
presided a dumpy, cheery little priest, who, with a beaming smile,
indicated his perpetual readiness to accept small donations. Still, it
had its air of sanctity, and it was pleasant to see there Greek women
praying with deep fervour. Occasionally, too, Mac noted British and
French soldiers upon their knees.
Near the landing-place stood a street of filthy, hastily erected,
wooden shanties, where the ever-trading Greek offered garden produce,
very, very doubtful eggs and more or less objectionable stuff of other
descriptions. The medium of exchange was varied in the extreme, and
ranged from British, French and Egyptian coins to tins of bully beef,
army jam, badges and the like.
There were some fine men in the hospital and next to Mac lay Mick. He
was a Light Horseman, and Mac made a cobber of him.
"Chest's me trouble--touch of t.b. the Doc says. I cough away some of
these nights like a sheep with lung-worm. I feel all right myself; but
ev'ry time I talks about getting a shift on like, ole Doc gets busy
with his water-diviner--'breathe in breathe out'--and then he says,
'Say "Ah-h-h."' Then he thumps away wid his fingers. I reckon I'm
about as chuberculer as a young gum-tree, but the ole Doc he just says
'Carry on for a while longer and then we'll see.'"
Mick looked as fit as a two-year-old. After his fine figure, the first
feature Mac noticed was a large but unfinished tattoo of the Royal Arms
across the aforementioned unsound chest. Tubercular or not, that chest
spent most of its hours in the fresh air, along with most of the rest
of Mick's body.
"How d'you come by that bit of landscape, Mick?"
"Oh!----!----!----!" murmured Mick feelingly. "Me ruddy chest's crook
outside as well as in. That's a ruddy souvenir of a night in Cairo,
that is. Got a bit inked I s'pose. Don't remember too much about it
meself. All I knows was I wakes up in the mornin' with a head like a
sandstorm, no piastres left, and me chest as sore as hell wid this
pretty picture on it--me, a bloomin' Aussie born and bred with the
'b---- 'art gorn Care-o chuum' badge on me manly chest--them wee lads
whose mummies didn't know they was out. I tell yer I wasn't sweet the
rest er that day. Bill, me cobber, 'e comes an' tells me 'e was in
Cairo wid me. I tells 'im 'e needn't tell me that. 'Anyhow, if yer
was,' I says, 'wy didn't yer stop 'em brandin' me? Nice feller you are
to call yerself me cobber?'
"'Oh,' he says, 'I did me best, but you wasn't havin' any. You
threatens to hit me over the 'ead if I don't go stop shovin' me
opinions in w'ere they wasn't wanted. 'Me skin's me skin,' you says,
'An' I'll do what I b---- well like with it!' Then I tries ter drag
you off, an' we had a bloomin' scuffle outside the show, an' you pushes
me down some steps. I wasn't none too good neither.'
"'Then we goes in again, an' you starts takin' off yer tunic. You
tells the Gyppie to show you some styles; and between tryin' 'em on so
ter speak, an' one thing and er nother, you gits all yer b---- clothes
off. The Gyppies come to light with some booze--filth it was, I
bet--an' we both has some, an' you pays 'em about twenty piastres fer
it. Then you hooks this Manchester badge and says "Quiis kitir." An'
they was tryin' ter push some rude indecent ones on ter yer, an'
wishin' ter save yer from the worst like I tells yer the Manchester one
was beautiful. An' I says it was what ev'ry patriotic Aussie should
wear. You starts skitin' about Australian loyalty and Australia will
be there an' that sorter thing, an' then says "yer 'll 'ave it."
"'They gets to work an' all goes well, and when they was just 'alf
finished, the bloomin' picket comes along an' pushes us out. I tries
to get yer dressed but you was thinkin' you knew more about it than I
did, an' you wasn't far wrong. I dunno meself how we got home.
Anyhow, cobber, we both had our pockets gone gently through, for me
feloose is gone as well as yours. I didn't have much, but wot I had's
now somebody else's.'
"'Yer a b---- fine cobber, you are,' I says, 'Not to have choked 'em
off.'
"'You've got ter thank me, anyway, fer not letting 'em put somethin' on
yer which yer wouldn't care to let the world or yer missis, when you
have one, gaze at.'
"An' that's how this lovely work in red and blue decorates me manly
chest. The Doc he always smiles and twinkles his eyes so merry like
when he sounds me chest. I'm thinkin' of havin' it turned inter a
risin' sun. Me troop thinks it is an 'ell of a good joke, an' I reckon
it would be too if it was on some one else's chest. Them b----
Manchesters!"
Mac and Mick wandered abroad together occasionally to investigate the
land--Mac more for the pleasure of getting away from the hot dusty
camp, and Mick for the prospects of raising more tolerable refreshment
than luke-warm rusty water from ships' tanks. They wandered to far
villages where the stolid Greek peasant life was not in the least
disturbed by the activity in the harbour nor the distant rumble of
Gallipoli guns--except that eggs and vegetables brought wonderful
money. These villages were out of bounds and they found them empty of
troops except for a solitary mounted policeman in each who could be
easily dodged in the narrow lanes and shady fig-trees.
At the end of the first week in the field hospital both Mac and Mick
were transferred to a new camp about three miles inland. It was less
afflicted with flies, but there was only sufficient water for drinking
purposes and enough food for about half the three hundred patients.
The only water for washing was to be had occasionally in the early
morning hours at the bottom of a well about a third of a mile away.
About ten minutes of angling with a canvas bucket on the end of a rope
brought Mac about two inches of very muddy water. But on their first
day's ramble Mac and Mick discovered about two miles from the camp a
fine pool of stagnant water. It lay in the bottom of a rocky gorge, a
shallow basin at the foot of what was a small waterfall during the
winter rains. It was swarming with insect life, but, unheeding such
minor details, Mac and Mick soon stripped off their clothes and made
the best of it. Next day they came armed with towels, soap and all the
permanganate of potash their kits could muster. At the worst this
browny-pink pool left them a good deal cleaner and cooler than before,
and the two troopers usually came that way once or twice daily.
They slept, too, on the open hill-side some distance from the camp, as
it was cooler, cleaner and quieter, and they put in only an occasional
appearance for medicine and a meal. The staff of the camp seemed
concerned with greater things than the presence or otherwise of a
couple of troopers, and Mac and Mick saw no particular obstacle to
their remaining a month or two. Mac had exhausted most of his and the
section's finance in excellent fashion. The harbour was out of bounds,
but in several surreptitious excursions out on to the harbour, with
Mick and one or two others, he had succeeded in getting from ships'
canteens and stores as big a stock of provisions as he could carry with
him on his return journey to Anzac.
On two men-o'-war they had been splendidly received by the crews, who,
fully appreciating the rottenness of life ashore, did all in their
power to make pleasant the few hours' stay of such odd soldiers as
found their way on board. The bluejackets crowded round the visitors,
all anxious to be their hosts. They took Mac and Mick to a bath-room,
and, while they had a good splash round, prepared a really attractive
meal with extra delicacies bought at the canteen. The wanderers would
make the most of it too. Then, after an hour or so's yarn on the cool,
clean awninged deck, they would take a regretful departure, and would
go over the ship's side laden with good things from the sailors, the
latest newspapers from home, smokable tobacco, and good canteen stores.
They were fine men, the sailors whom Mac came across at Gallipoli,
generous, hospitable fellows when they had the chance, and ready always
to back up their comrades ashore, and to share with them the dangers,
discomfort and disease of life ashore whenever they were called upon.
Thus, at the end of a fortnight on Lemnos, Mac had collected in the
care of a friend near the landing-place as much as he could carry back.
Mick, too, had followed his example and had collected a case of
provisions for his cobbers up at Anzac. Mick, moreover, was heartily
fed up, he said, of hanging about this mouldy island, and he knew that
he could bluff the M.O. at the new camp that he had had dysentery and
was now all right; and that, if there happened to be any official
papers in the camp, no one would trouble to find them, nor probably
could, if they wanted to. Mac was not so keen to hurry back, but the
fortnight's rest from the line and better food had set him to rights,
and he fell in eventually with Mick's suggestion. They approached an
old M.O., who pushed them through without ever getting suspicious about
Mick, and two hours later in the early afternoon they were bumping over
the open country in a Ford ambulance towards the landing-place.
The late afternoon was spent in the _Aragon_, down in the depths of a
well-deck, waiting for the fleet-sweeper to take them to Anzac. Mick
was furious because he was not allowed to buy stuff at the ship's
canteen, as it was reserved for those non-fighting staff soldiers who
lived in all the comfort and safety of this beautiful ship. Mick was
loud and exceedingly pointed in his remarks. However, he and Mac
succeeded in penetrating to the depths of the ship, where, with the few
odd coins still in their possession, they managed to bribe the cook to
let them have as much currant bread, buns and sausages as would fill up
all the spare corners in their kit. They ate as much on the spot as
they possibly could, and eventually went on board the sweeper very well
loaded.
Six hours' steam across the warm night waters brought them again within
earshot of the usual night musketry fire. At one in the morning they
were once more ashore at the Cove, with its tireless throng of men,
mules and limbers. Mac deposited his load in the bivouac of a friend,
and then parted for ever with his good cobber Mick, his casual
companion of a Lemnos fortnight, whose way lay in the opposite
direction.