WITH OUR BOYS AT THE REST CAMP

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2640, 10 December 1915, Page 6

WITH OUR BOYS AT THE REST CAMP

WELL-EARNED RESPITE i (Frqm Malcolm Ross, Oificial War Correspondent with the N.Z. Forces.) i On a trawler in tho Aegean, Oct. 4. For tho last four weeks now it has seemed strange to visit tlie trenches at intervals, and to find no Now Zealanders in the firing line. For five months—ever since the memorable April 25—they have been almost continuously undet fire. Like others, they have liad theii short spells away from tho trenches in one or other of the so-called Rest Gullies, but even there the shrapnel and tho high explosive and the dropping bullet have found them out. Once, for a brief space, tlicy had a spell on Imbros, where a somewhat improved commis-. sariat and the delight of sea-bathing unmolested by the enemy made a" pleasant change. At Imbros they were still within sound of the guns, and even the dull crackle of rifle fire was often wafted oil a favouring breeze across the Sea of Saros to the tented field which they, had exchanged for the zig-spg trench and the hillside dug-out. In France the officers and men, we read, can get an occasional week off well.behind the firing line, or in England. Apparently even a week-end on the moors was possible in some instances. But on the Gallipoli Peninsula, whero we do not hold one inch of ground that is not subject to gun-fire, such a- delightful change has been altogether out of the question. More recently, however, the situation has permitted a real change and rest on an island, where oven the sound of the guns cannot be heard. A voyage of a hundred miles by sea —there and back— in an uncomfortable Hull trawler, crowded ttith officers, soldiers; and sailors, going about their master's business, enables one to visit them. A foitrhonrs' journey takes you from Divisional I Headquarters to Imbros. Next day you. hoard a trawler, ayd at dusk find 'yourself, after seven hours' steam, entering a netted harbour, where lie a hundred ships of many kinds—French, Russian, and English. There are battleSiips, cruisers, destroyers, hospital ships, tramps, and store ships. Towering above all there is a mighty four-funnelled Leviathan. To any aeroplane or spy that may chance this ivay, it must be an object-lesson of tho Empire's power. Across the placid water steam launches and motor-boats and other small craft wheel and glide as if threading the figures of an intricate sea dance The amazing quickness and acouracy with which they start and steer and stop appeals to the landsman—indeed,, almost surprises him. Not a momeiit is wasted. Everywhere there is energy and power; nowhere confusion. You alo lauded at one of the several wharves that have appeared as if, by magic along the shores of the indented harl4>ur, where of old the Armadas of other conquering nations were wont to assemble. On the gently sloping brown i hills are many camps—tents great and small, gleaming in the glaring sunshine that seems ever-present in these island- : ed seas. Along one of the newly-made ■ dusty roads, past the splendid Canadian ; hospital, with its genial doctors and trim, good-looking nurses, you pad • the hoof, perspiring under your pack; i till you oome to a shallow estuary that ; ' seems to bar your further progress. ' out 'Oil the shore you note officers and mel ,' aro , taking off their boots and ■ socks and putties—even their shirts and . trousers. Presently you find yourself ; acting similarly. In a quarter of an ■ hour you are in the New Zealand camp, . where tho tired veterans of the war are lazmg in'-their tents, and the reI miorcements, recently arrived, are lying on the ground beside their packs'and , blankets, where they have bivouacked, ; tor as yet there are not enough tents ; to go round. But it is no hardship to bivouac m this mild air, for the dew' • ot night, vanishes with the morning, j and there is no occasion to duck for a . dug-out in order to avoid the burstin" shrapnel or the high explosive. Now > that you havo been in the thick of it . on the Peninsula for some months, you s are impressed with the almost unnatural calm.. Then you .begin to noto r the difference m the men. "What a 1 splendid type of manhood these New L Zealanders are I Their rounded limbs ) and healthy, ruddy features contrast t with the leaner muscle and the thini lier brown faces of the infantry, who 1 . montll s Past, been fighting . the Turks', and the flies, and the dysenli ery V- At v lie Ileacl of the little vale fihe Brigadier and two or three members of his staff are also resting. Halfright, on the _ hillside, a few hundred yards away, m a separate "camp,, the remnant of the Mounted Brigade who . nave fought so magnificently, are takmg their ease. - For the first few days—the mental and bodily strain relaxed—the men were quite devoil of energy. There had been some fatigues, some physical exercises, and a little drill. At first, too, there were numbers who went sick. "How do you account for that?'' I asked ono man. "Well," he replied, "the onlv thing I can think of is that many of t'hein who wore too proud to 'go sick' in the trenches collapsed when they got hero, and suddenly found themselves out of the real thing. I know the case of one man who was fighting against dysentery on the Peninsula for three weeks," he added. "He used 1 to get two of his comrades to help him into the trenches. Finally the doctor spotted him, arid sent him off." In the rest camp the men have been well fed, and, for a few days, they _ wore supplied with malt liquor—a pert feet God-send under all the circumt stances. Fresh meat and .bread and i tinned milk also helped greatly to buck s them up, and now they were showing I more energy, and cricket arid football and quoits were being indulged in. A band that had come along from Egypt played inspiriting music. This also was a factor in their recuperation. It was strange to hear music \ once again, and all the familiar bugle calls of a camp. One felt as if one had suddenly dropped into' another world. That evening .some of the new men t marched in to the music of their band a and tho cheering of the comrades ale ready in camp. There were meetings v with old friends, and inquiries about • others, who, alas! were well dug in in ? their .last trench.. There were tales, too, of glorious deeds—modestly told— 1 done by the living and. the dead among i, the steep slopes and narrow, vales of 1 the Peninsula. These jvere often simple i- epics that will one day adorn the pages r of our history in a far land. As I left '• the camp and waded back across the estuary, I could not help thinking v of a ® fitting remark made by the Brigadier: n "The mothers of New Zealand can hold e their heads high." a I-