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The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, October 1916

With the New Zealanders

With the New Zealanders.

We arrived at Suez on Wednesday, March 15th at 8 a.m. Our first notification that we were near port was the appearance of several dhows, curious affairs, with one or two large triangular sails each of which had a large red spot in the centre. In the distance behind the wharf lay the Canal, and every eye was strained eagerly to catch a glimpse of it. Some distance from the wharf lay the town of Suez itself; but the fates had destined we were not to see it. At 4.30 p.m. we landed and entrained immediately, our "carriages" being open goods trucks, with sides about 2½ feet high. Having waited for the remainder of the (censored) to entrain, we set off for our destination—the camp of the New Zealand Division at Moascar. Our rations consisted of ½ tin of bully beef and 6 hard biscuits per man. We ran straight through Suez without stopping, and at once began to come upon camp after camp of troops—white and native page 40 —alongside the railway line. There were camel corps, infantry, and mounted units. Everywhere were armed men. Everywhere in the twilight, camp fires twinkled, horses neighed. Anon the cheers of some regiment would greet us as we passed. Alongside this display of armed force, we felt very insignificant indeed. At length, so chilly became the atmosphere, we donned overcoats and attempted to sleep. This was managed with more or less success, until finally at 10-15 p.m. we arrived at Moascar, quite close to the township of Ismailia. At 11-25 p.m. we commenced the march to our bivouac, a distance of some six miles. At first we tramped through the clogging sand, then on to a hard road, through Ismailia, then between groves of trees until at last we reached the Canal at a place known as Ferry Post. We crossed the Canal over a pontoon bridge, plugged through more sand for a couple of miles, past what seemed to us the outskirts of civilisation, until at length, having passed the last line of Rifle Brigade tents, we were halted on an expanse of sand and were told—"Your bivouac is here." A courteous officer of the Brigade supplied us with some dixies of tea, and at 2.35 a.m. we turned in on the sand, with the clear star-studded sky for a coverlet.

When we awoke next morning, chilled with the dew we realised that we were on the historic Sinai Peninsula; and, to mix ancient with very modern history, we learned that a few miles further on were the trenches dug in 1915 on the occasion of the Turkish assault on Egypt. We remained only three days in this position, and on the Sunday shifted camp to Moascar, occupying the lines vacated by the 5th Australian Field Ambulance. Within a few days the whole of the New Zealand Division had assembled there, and we continued our training on the sandy waste known as Moascar. Of the training here, the less said the better. It was alright in its way, but the continuation of elementary squad drill well-nigh broke the hearts of the men. We had a couple of good field days, which broke the monotony of drill and lectures; and when the weather became too hot for parades (between the hours of 10.30 a.m. and 3.30 p.m.) we went down to Lake Timsah for a bathe.

About half-an-hour's walk from our camp was the page 41 township of Ismailia—a dirty, dilapidated hole, with still dirtier shops and filthier natives. I spent one afternoon there and it was quite enough for me.

Here are one or two incidents, which tend to increase or lighten the tedium of the soldier's life. One extract— Saturday, 18th March—from my diary—"Saturday morning was full of the usual "messing about" to which soldiers seem continually to be subjected. The tents we pitched on Friday were ordered to be struck. They were struck. The Sergeant-Major and I proceeded to lay out lines by means of pegs. Half-finished—C and M come along and say it must be done in another way. And they had previously ordered the first way! Voila! We proceeded with the second way. Halfway through the job—C and—M call for us. They want it done differently. We pull up all pegs and proceed, after two hour's foolish measuring with a tape, to lay out the camp. We were getting on very well when an officer's voice is heard—"Pitch no more tents. Strike tents and pack them. Pack kits and prepare to move in half an hour." This was the last straw. I was inarticulate with "soft murmurings." Then, it was only an advance party which moved off—after three hours!—and the tents had to be pitched that night owing to heavy rain."

Another incident, which dispels the once current rumour that bad feeling still exists between Australians and New Zealanders. One evening, just after tea, when we were lying in our tents and enjoying a perfect smoke, word was brought to us that an Australian Brigade had arrived near our camp, and that many men had been forced to drop out, completely exhausted, along the line of march. They had been marching in from Tel el Kebir all day long, under a blazing Egyptian sun and with full packs up. There were very few halts and the result was that even the strongest began to feel fatigued. Immediately we sent out three waggons and several stretcher parties, only to find that the men of the Rifle Brigade were also out with filled water bottles to help the Australians. Our men brought in a number to camp, and we established a temporary hospital on the following day. Others, able to walk, were taken to the tents occupied by our men and the Riflemen, who did all in their power to cheer the Aus page 42 tralians, and minister to their bodily wants. And the Cornstalks did appreciate the little we did. The next morning, the Brigade had to resume its march, and, to do so, had to pass between our lines and those of the Rifle Brigade. We lined up to watch them pass. Suddenly a voice from their ranks shouted—"Three cheers for the New Zealanders, boys." And a triple crash from the still weary infantrymen of Australia brought everyone out of their tents. Our fellows answered; and so it continued, cheers and answering cheers, until the whole brigade had passed. It was good; only the extravagance of some of the compliments paid us, made us feel a little uncomfortable, as we had done very little. "Good bye and good luck, New Zealand! We'll see you later on. You'll do us"; and then the rear of the brigade swung by, followed by its waggons and carts.

We visited the pyramids. Our first view, at a considerable distance away, excited us not a little; but the actual visit was rather disappointing. There are too many camel-drivers, donkey-drivers, photographers et hoc genus omne—and they drive one nearly frantic. In the Pyramid of Cheops we saw what had once been the tombs—now robbed to fill the museums. But what a mind it was that conceived the plan of building them! And what years of toil and labour to complete them! One can only repeat the trite phrase—I hate it but have none better—they are unique.

Ever since we arrived in Egypt, we heard that we were going to France, and we now found that this was a certainty. We knew before we arrived that the New Zealand Forces were being reorganised, but we had no idea how thoroughly it was being done. A Division—three infantry brigades—had been formed. Each Brigade had its own transport, engineers and field ambulance. In addition, the strength of the artillery had been considerably increased, until, when we arrived, there were 15 batteries. One mounted unit was also to travel to France, the remainder being retained in the Ferry Post Zone at the Canal. I might mention here that, in order to complete the required numbers for the second infantry brigade and for the artillery, many of the mounted infantry had been transferred to these branches. On Monday 3rd April, three days prior to our leaving Egypt, page 43 General Sir Archie Murray inspected the whole of the New Zealand Division. It was a grand sight. It sent little shivers of pride all up and down my spine. 'Tis true that as far as numbers go we are a mere handful, but we hope to make good on the Western Front. Our infantry is magnificent to look on. I don't say this merely because I am a New Zealander, but because it is really true. I am sure they will prove themselves in France.

Moascar cannot be described. It can merely be cursed. Imagine just one sandy waste, with a railway line running between two lines of encampments. In the distance, though not so very far away, is the Canal. Two cruisers are seen at anchor there: while the squat form of a monitor—heavily armoured—forms a distinct contrast to the trimmer lines of the speedier vessels. At night, the searchlights from the warships are unceasing in their restless activity. Steamers are continually passing up and down the Canal. When one stopped to think of the tremendous amount of shipping, that passed daily up and down the Canal, and of the number of vessels we had seen during our six weeks' trip, one could not help realising that it was a silent but eloquent tribute to Britain's sea power.

Talking of sea-power and submarine danger and such like, one rather good story is told from our boat. About two days out from Auckland one young fellow commenced a letter to his mater. It began thus—"We are now approaching the danger zone. So far we have sighted no submarines"!

In Egypt I met many V.C. men, among them the following:—K. Caldwell, A. Hudson, F. E. McKenzie, W. Dudson, A. G. Brockett, F. W. Goodbehere, A. Curtayne, D. M. Yates, W. T. McCaw, L. Wardrop, S. Dempsey, O. G. Bramwell, N. Johnston, K. Clayton, K. Henderson, J. Bennett, F. M. Martin, I. Robinson, R. W. Reed, P. B. Cooke, A. Boufvé, W. H. Stainton, J. A. Cowles, B. Lankshear, T. O'Shea.

One thing might interest people in New Zealand. "Wet" canteens were established in our camps in Egypt, and I make bold to say that drunkenness was practically non-existent there. It seems to be a pity that they are not established in New Zealand. There would then be no need for this nonsensical talk of closing hotels at 6 page 44 p.m.—not that there is any need at all even now. Do the people of New Zealand think soldiers are men or children? If they heard the expression of opinion of the men in France, they would surely stop to think.

On Tuesday, April 4th, we struck tents, and packed away, so that everything would be ready for moving off...........It was beastly cold and we were glad when our train rattled its way into Alexandria at 1.20 a.m. At 2 a.m. we embarked on the T.S. Minnewaska, a 14,000 ton Atlantic liner now being used as a transport. At first I was appointed Ship's Provost Sergeant, and there were 1,800 troops on board. Fortunately or unfortunately, my Section O.C. was appointed M.O. for ship, and I had to take over the ship's hospital. This was a catch, and I had a fairly easy time during our five days trip. Throughout the whole of the voyage we had to wear our life-belts, the only times when we were permitted to lay them aside being during meal hours and when we "turned in" for the night. Even then they had to be placed where we could get them right away. This was very necessary, as the submarines were fairly active in the Mediterranean. A strong convoy was provided for us during the most dangerous part of our journey, and our ship steered a zig-zag course throughout the voyage. A submarine guard was on duty all the time, and no lights were permitted on board after sunset. To us the voyage was uneventful, one incident alone disturbing the monotony.

We carried a 4.7 inch gun in the stern, and one day it was decided to fire a couple of practice shots. A target was thrown overboard. Everything was calm and still, and those not on duty were dozing or reading or yarning, when the bang of the 4.7 brought them to their feet with a start. Seeing nothing unusual, some sat down again, but immediately, bang she went again, and consternation was visibly written on the faces of a great number, while others hurried from below to see the "submarine." As a matter of fact, a submarine (German) was captured nine miles south of our port of debarkation, about two days after our arrival, and on the same day as the arrival of another of our transports.

We arrived at 6 p.m. at our port of disembarkation. Coming along the coast and up the harbour, we had a grand view. That delicious and insouciant bird, the page 45 censor, will not permit me to mention names; but I may tell you that we passed the castle in which Monte Christo was imprisoned. Do you remember your Dumas? Of this town without a name I will write later.