REMEMBERED IN MELBOURNE

Chronicle (Levin), 4 May 1946, Page 3

REMEMBERED IN MELBOURNE

"MAN WITII DONKEY" Just after dawn on Anzac Uay, in Meibourne, 5U Anzacs solemnly toasted the Man with the Donkey, and tlieu, just. as reverently, placed a rum rution near the base of the statue. Oilicials of the Galiipoli Legion oi' Anzacs could tlirow no light on this sohlierly ceremonv, but oue of them said tliey could have been somc of the moa Privato Jolin Simpson brought through tlie shrapuel to the beaches. The party arrived about G.30, formed a eircle round the statue, then squared their shouhlers aud drunk the toast in rum to John Simpson. Oue of the meu was legiess. He was carried to the ceremonv on the back of j a brother Anzac, aud drunk his toast in an attitude poignantly Jiko the wounded lnan on Simpson 's donkey. The Anzacs left a nameless wreath of laurel leaves. Many of the younger generation in New Zeaiand will not have lieard of the Man with the Donkey, but his name has become a tradition iu Australia. At the lauding on Galiipoli a number of donkeys with Greek drivers had been taken ashore for water-carrying. j The Groeks were soon deported and j lifter the lirst duys the donkeys ceased carrying aud i'ed idly in the vaileys. Private John Simpson, a ship's liremau from Tyneside, a member of the 3rd Australiau Field Ambulance, was seized with the idea tliat oue of the donkeys might be usefui for mov- ] ing meu wounded in the leg. On ! the night of the 25th he amiexed a donkey, and each day, and lialf the night, he worked eontinuously between the head of Monash Valley and the beach, his donkey carrying a brassard found its foreliead and a wounded man on its back. Simpson escaped death so often that he -becaULe completely fatalistic; the deadly sniping- down the valley and I Ihe most i'urious shrapnel fire never stupped liim. The colonel of his ambulance, recognising the value of his work, allowed him to carry on as a completely scparate uuit. Presently he aunexed a second donkey. On May 19 he went up the valley past the water guard, wliere he geuerally had his breakfast, but it was noi ready. "Never mind," lic called. "Get uie a good dinner when I come back." But he never came back. With two patients he was carrying down the creek-bed he was hit through the heart, uud both the wounded men were wounded again. He liad carried many seores of men down the valley, and had saved many lives at the cost of his own. This was the man to whom, 33 years later, the silent toast was drunk at dawn in Meibourne last Thursda-y.