THEANZACINTHECAR

Dominion, Volume 12, Issue 79, 28 December 1918, Page 7

THEANZACINTHECAR

A SIDELIGHT ON WAR'S AFTERMATH

"UNSETTLED" (By X, in the "Melbourne Argus.") "Unsettled!" .And he enid it much ns ho might have said that the colour of someone's tic displeased him. . . ." It was going out in the Irani last night," continued the Anr.ac. "I ivas seated in a corner, fairly tired, and not paying much attention to what was going on about me, until ho said, in his superior sort of way, 'The trouble with so many of them is that they're unsettled. .'. . The. experience lias unsettled them.'", "The lady's quick glance in my direction, and Her warning 'S-sh' had their effect. Whatever other views he had about returned soldiers he expressed in a low voici , . "Unsettled !•— "It was only that morning that, running through some of.ray belongings, I carao across an arm band, oneo white, now stained and dirty. If was .worn by a pal of mine. Wo all wore arm-bands and back-patches in the fighting of those August days on the peninsula. And stitched on this old arm-band that was onco his is what used to be his regimental badge, before regimental badges were replaced by shoulder patches. ''I never see an '8 L.H. , badge but that my throat swells as though it would burst, and I begin swallowing hard. It takes me back in a flash to the trenches on Walker's Ridge find Russells lop, and that awful morning when the dismounted lAjht Horse went out against "lha Chessboard. The boys felt they were going to die. Death was bursting on the 'narrow Nek. Death was singing in the air. Death was 'putt-putt-putting m sharp bursts upon the sand-bags, that formed our parapet. And yet the boys gave us a wave, and said cheerily, ho °"It was a little after i in the morning when the chap who was wearing that arm-band said to me, 'I wonder what they're doing at home.' We used often to wonder what they were doing at home. We had worked it out roughly, and knew that 'i a.m. on Gnllipbli corresponded to about noon Victorian time. And he reckoned that, back on the farm, mum was getting lunch ready, and little Hilly would be waitiD? to carry it down to where dad would be working in one of ! the paddocks. "When Lieutenant-Colonel White looked at his watch he told the boys that they had ten minutes more to go. He 'felt that he had only ten minutes more to live, too, and yet he had offered to lead his men out to what looked like certain death. 'Do .you understand that? A well man, and he deliberately made this 'meet' with death at half-past i o'clock a.m. on the morning of August 7, 1915 ; Then he said, "Three minutes. . Then a whistle blew, and the boys went over the top. ' "Can you picture these boys going out that morning to die on the Nek in front of the Chessboard-going out, oh! so bravely. You've thought, of course, what a hard thine; it is to die when yop'ro young and fit and strong. And after you've shuddered a bit and had 'gooseflesh' down your spine you've pushed the thought aside and forced your mind to dwell on something more pleasant. But with (heso boys there was no brushing the thought aside. This to them was the end of all things. For this they had been born, had grown up, had been trained, had lived and loved. This was the finish. ... ....

"A whistle blew, and they took a full breath of God's good air, and they thought-God only knows what they thought—ami , they went out to meet death in front of the Chessboard. It came at them in flashes i'rom rifles and bursting shells, nnd the splaying of ma-chine-guns—death sudden and sharp or lingering and awful. "The first line went over, and most of them died. The second line went over without an' instant's hesitation, and most of them died. Then the third line. And tho fourth line was following when the fttflck was mercifully stopped; "Men who were looking on broke down and cried lika childrjn at the suSlime heroism of it and its tragic uselessness", i . . '

"And the chap in the tram who had in. formed, his lady friend that returned soldiers seemed a'little unsettled remembered after a virile that he wanted to get off at Davis Street. So, still in his superior way, he psked thr conductor, if they had reached there yet. "Davi3 Street," said the conductor, "last stop but one." "What I" shouted the passenger, "didn't T tell you to put me down, at Davis Street?" "I called out when we enme there," said the conductor, a little nettled, "twice distinctly." • : . . "Confound it," said the passenger angrily. "Confound you," retorted the conductor, mistaking the remark. "I'll renort you," exploded the nasseneer. "You're impertinent." "I left them arguing," said the Anzac. "It's a sad thing to see strong men unsettled."