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Page 10
THE OFFICERS' MESS
We kept up the custom of having an officers' mess right through the
campaign. When we first landed, while everything was in confusion,
each man catered for himself; but it was a lonely business, and not
conducive to health. When a man cooked his own rations he probably did
not eat much. So a dug-out was made close to the hospital tent, and we
all had our meals together. A rather pathetic incident occurred one
day. Just after we had finished lunch three of us were seated, talking
of the meals the "Australia" provided, when a fragment of shell came
through the roof on to the table and broke one of the enamel plates.
This may seem a trivial affair and not worth grousing about; but the
sorry part of it was that we only had one plate each, and this loss
entailed one man having to wait until the others had finished their
banquet.
I have elsewhere alluded to the stacks of food on the beach. Amongst
them bully beef was largely in evidence. Ford, our cook, was very good
in always endeavouring to disguise the fact that "Bully" was up again.
He used to fry it; occasionally he got curry powder from the Indians
and persuaded us that the resultant compound was curried goose; but it
was bully beef all the time. Then he made what he called
rissoles--onions entered largely into their framework, and when you
opened them you wanted to get out into the fresh air. Preserved
potatoes, too, were very handy. We had them with our meat, and what
remained over we put treacle on, and ate as pancakes. Walkley and
Betts obtained flour on several occasions, and made very presentable
pancakes. John Harris, too, was a great forager--he knew exactly where
to put his hand on decent biscuits, and the smile with which he landed
his booty made the goods toothsome in the extreme. Harris had a
gruesome experience. One day he was seated on a hill, talking to a
friend, when a shell took the friend's head off and scattered his
brains over Harris.
Before leaving the description of the officers' mess, I must not omit
to introduce our constant companions, the flies. As Australians we
rather prided ourselves on our judgment regarding these pests, and in
Gallipoli we had every opportunity of putting our faculties to the
test. There were flies, big horse flies, blue flies, green flies, and
flies. They turned up everywhere and with everything. While one was
eating one's food with the right hand, one had to keep the left going
with a wisp, and even then the flies beat us. Then we always had the
comforting reflection of those dead Turks not far away--the distance
being nothing to a fly. In order to get a little peace at one meal in
the day, our dinner hour was put back until dusk. Men wounded had a
horrible time. Fortunately we had a good supply of mosquito netting
purchased with the Red Cross money. It was cut up into large squares
and each bearer had a supply.
THE ARMISTICE
On the 23rd of May anyone looking down the coast could see a man on
Gaba Tepe waving a white flag. He was soon joined by another occupied
in a like manner. Some officers came into the Ambulance and asked for
the loan of some towels; we gave them two, which were pinned together
with safety pins. White flags don't form part of the equipment of
Australia's army.
Seven mounted men had been observed coming down Gaba Tepe, and they
were joined on the beach by our four. The upshot was that one was
brought in blindfolded to General Birdwood. Shortly after we heard it
announced that a truce had been arranged for the following day in
order to bury the dead.
The following morning Major Millard and I started from our right and
walked up and across the battle-field. It was a stretch of country
between our lines and those of the Turks, and was designated No Man's
Land. At the extreme right there was a small farm; the owner's house
occupied part of it, and was just as the man had left it. Our guns had
knocked it about a good deal. In close proximity was a field of wheat,
in which there were scores of dead Turks. As these had been dead
anything from a fortnight to three weeks their condition may be better
imagined than described. One body I saw was lying with the leg
shattered. He had crawled into a depression in the ground and lay with
his great-coat rolled up for a pillow; the stains on the ground showed
that he had bled to death, and it can only be conjectured how long he
lay there before death relieved him of his sufferings. Scores of the
bodies were simply riddled with bullets. Midway between the trenches a
line of Turkish sentries were posted. Each was in a natty blue uniform
with gold braid, and top boots, and all were done "up to the nines."
Each stood by a white flag on a pole stuck in the ground. We buried
all the dead on our side of this line and they performed a similar
office for those on their side. Stretchers were used to carry the
bodies, which were all placed in large trenches. The stench was awful,
and many of our men wore handkerchiefs over their mouths in their
endeavour to escape it. I counted two thousand dead Turks. One I
judged to be an officer of rank, for the bearers carried him
shoulder-high down a gully to the rear. The ground was absolutely
covered with rifles and equipment of all kinds, shell-cases and caps,
and ammunition clips. The rifles were all collected and the bolts
removed to prevent their being used again. Some of the Turks were
lying right on our trenches, almost in some of them. The Turkish
sentries were peaceable-looking men, stolid in type and of the peasant
class mostly. We fraternised with them and gave them cigarettes and
tobacco. Some Germans were there, but they viewed us with malignant
eyes. When I talked to Colonel Pope about it afterwards he said the
Germans were a mean lot of beggars: "Why," said he most indignantly,
"they came and had a look into my trenches." I asked "What did you do?"
He replied, "Well, I had a look at theirs."
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