LAST MEETING.

Press, Volume LIV, Issue 16225, 4 July 1918, Page 5

LAST MEETING.

• THE ANZAC AND THE HUN. : TRAGEDY OF THE DUCKBOARDS, (By Brigadier-General Jobson, D.5.0. ; of the Australian Forces.) The battalion had gone over the top on the right of tho 2nd Army, and although its work had bocn carried out •'according to Cocker," it had paid the price in blood. The stream of stretcherbearers from the front line to the regimental aid post seemed never-ending. Ther6, at Dead Cow Farm, near the cottage at St. Yves, where Bairnsfather first drew his sketches on the walls (now low in ruins) was the post where the 11.M.0. quickly treated each man, and passed him on lo tho dressing station in the'rear. Nearby stood tne A.M.C. sergeant, with a cheering word as he tended each man, and gave him Red Cross cigarettes, cocoa, or bovfii to comfort him in his great agoi£y. He was a great man, that sergeant, loved by all who knew him —he was the friend of every man who came liis way. Witty he was, and full of quaint conceits. Ready to give backchat to anyone who deserved it; 'he never used his tongue to hurt a man, for he loved the men, and felt for each of those maimed and wounded souls, as he felt for his own brother. Into the aid post tho bearers brought a stricken soldier. He lay go still on the stretcher that the sergeant thought he must have finished his course. A piece of shell had taken away his sight, and there he was, blind beyond hope, and his features disfigured past recognition. There seemed some sign of life as the sergeant dressed tho poor broken face, and as he told me afterwards, "1 thought he was gone—he lay so still," But I said to him: "Well, old man, how do you feel?" never expecting an answer. You could have knocked me down when he said quite cheeriiy: "Oh, all right; give mo a cigarette." The sergeant placed a cigarette between tho man's teeth, and lit it for him, and he puffed away then quite contentedly. Though all his physical world was dark, his mind was still sunny. CHIVALRY OF TJtLri WOUNDED. Close tHJiiue turn was aiiuiuer lad (tuey wero oiny buys of iy or > and a iiiuoiuue-guii uuuut had gone tiuougu ins tni iructuiuig Doth of tncni. i-ih lay quietiy av»uiiu»g ius turn, and ins oiuy waul was a uinui and a srnoKe. liiou&ii ui great pain tie lienor gave any sign, wiiilo tiie ix/.jx.O. examined iiiiii. rruseutiy a tun d man was brought in sci earning witla pain. do bad uid ho seem to he that tne doctor saw to itim as soon as he couid. lie was a waikiuf case, and to all appearance seemed unnariued, except in tn© lace, wnere there was a scratcli where a bullet had struck and passed on. it must have touched a nerve to have caused him such pain, for he cried and groaned persistently. While he was being dressed an orderly reported the ambulance was ready tor patients to be sent back. The seigeant pointed out the blind man, and the man with the broken thighs. "Take those two first." "No," said the blind man, "take that chap who is making such a row. He must be real bad." "Yes," echood the other wounded man, "take him first, Sergeant, I can wait." As the sergeant said afterwards, when speaking about these men, "They are really marvellous, the way they bear pain." IN PLOEGSTEERr WOOD, 'ine road Horn tuui aid jjusl at Dead Covy i'urni ieu x'loojjSLeert ood to jrioe&oieeri v mage. it was not a road, i<- u ua a uuc.uuuard traoK, brunciiing on in uli uireoiioiis. Lany : m uuuuu u allure, Woou" i Decarue luiuous, <uid Canadian, , Aew Zealand, and Australian troops . know it wed. its tracKs tor tne most part bear JUmdon names. Hyde i'urK corner, tiucadiiiy, Strand, Kegont street, are oiuy a tew of tne nauios, On that June morning, when tne Second Army carried out the "Cako Waik," as some British lomniies cailed the Mesaines figut, two stretcherbearers wero moving through the wood back to tiie aid post. Tneir stretcher was empty, and as they moved "along they made way for the other bearers carrying full loads back to the dressing station. At ordinaiy times, walking on tho duck boards is not easy for tl (j bearers. It is doubly difficult when every few yards there are no duck boards, just a gaping hole, literally torn out of the earth. The cover from observation was excellent, but' not from enemy shells, which tore through the trees searching for our guns and ammunition dumps, and made the life of tho men in reserve well-nigh unbearable. THE RECOGNITION. Presently the two bearers came to where a buarer party was halted for a spell. As tuey passed tiie party by one of our friends Happened to g.ance at the man on tne stlotoiier. His race seemed iainiliar, and he said to the other bearers: "That Hun's face is liko a cobber I had in Newcastle before the war.'' The Hun's expression brightened, and he moved his head slightly, and in good English said, "I lived in Newcastle, Australia." , The bearer looked hard at hirn, and addressed him by the name of his old "cobber," and the Hun replied that he was that "old cobber." The wounded man was badly hit, but he rallied enough to tell his friends a little of his adventures. "You remember I went to Germany before the war. Well, I was there ' when war broke out, and as my parents were Germans they mado ine serve. They made me fight, but I fought fair. I have triad net to kill arur Australian,

I don't think I- have ever killed an Australian." Tims the two friends met in tho heart of Ploegsteert Wood—But only for a fow moments. The stretcherbearers were needed badly at the front, while the wounded German-Australian must be got quickly to the dressing station if he was to live. Thus they partod. I never got the names of these two men, but I understand tho German died before he reached the dressing station. But he fought fair, and tried not to kill any Australian.