Fall Out the 1914 Men
After four years’ service, the remnants of the First and Second Contingents were assembled preparatory to return to Australia. Such a prolonged absence from their homes might have led one to expect a wild emotional outburst; but they received the tidings casually.
As they fell into line to be farewelled by the Brigadier, they presented an inspiring sight; shoulder to shoulder, each man a history in himself; true mates, every one of them: their fellowship cemented by the blood of fallen comrades. Alert they stood, hardened by the privations and hardships of long years of campaigning, but—true test of manhood—ready to face it all over again if their principles were involved.
As they waited for the “Old Man,” as the Brig. is affectionately termed, visions of the past began to take form before their eyes. Mine saw the silent, winding streams of human life, being hurried through the streets of sleeping cities on their way to grim, silent transports. No gay farewells, no playing of bands, no gathering of gaily-dressed crowds to wave them farewell on their way to foreign shores. As they strained their eyes for a last glimpse of their native land, many must have tried to visualize their return. None realized how or when, and many of the stout hearts on those sea-sprayed ships who gazed with loving eyes on their sunny land were saying the last farewell. Their graves are in strange lands, their deeds imperishable memories.
“Boys”—it was the Old Man speaking—“we come together to say good-bye.” He outlined his association with the Brigade, and touched briefly on the outstanding incidents of its career. He humorously alluded to their “weakness” in a few respects, buthe was proud to say that no man had ever complained of his punishment. Everybody had played the game, and his life was infinitely richer because of his association with them. He wished all a bright future, and they were never to forget him if they were ever in any difficulty.
At the close of the homily, I am afraid, the etiquette of military discipline was violated in many ways. “Good old Brig., the whitest ever made,” and such-like remarks were punctuated by cheering and the waving of hats. A personal handshake with each man and wishes of “good luck”; and then came the farewells round the camp, when mates of years bade each other good-bye, and turned away.
Friendship such as this will stand the test of time.
“BATAGGI.”
“BATAGGI.”
“BATAGGI.”
“BATAGGI.”
MRS. CHISHOLM’S CANTEEN AT KANTARA
MRS. CHISHOLM’S CANTEEN AT KANTARA
MRS. CHISHOLM’S CANTEEN AT KANTARA
BETHLEHEM
BETHLEHEM
BETHLEHEM
TROOPERS ENTERING JERICHO
TROOPERS ENTERING JERICHO
TROOPERS ENTERING JERICHO
DAMASCUS
DAMASCUS
DAMASCUS