WITH THE COLORS.

Hokitika Guardian, 20 December 1918, Page 4

WITH THE COLORS.

By Clias. R. H. Parham, 37th Rein forcemeats.) (Continued.)' Sling, Sept 19th. —Contrary to expectations I have not yet gone on leave. We woolly West Coasters all volunteered ina bunch, like a ball of biddibids, to go into the Lewis Gun Platoon. We applied to be formed into a platoon together; there are thirty in the platoon. We are now going through a three weeks’ additional training, before getting our draft leave. Thus we j expect to be a month or more behind the rest of the reinforcement. The work is very interesting and is quite in my line. We have to know everything about the gun—how to strip and assemble the gun in the least possible time. The first afternoon I “ stripped down ” in thirty seconds. The next day, 1 stripped and assembled in nineteen seconds I was surprised at the speed at which I picked up the mechanism and action of the gun. The gun team have lots of opportunities for real scouting work. There is work of all kinds mechanical, observation aud scouting. No 1 and 2 work the gun, No 3 brings up the ammunition: No 4 refills the magazines, No 5 observes the fire effect and takes ranges, No 6 is a trained scout and protects the right flank of the gun, No 7 and S usually attend to the ammunition dump. I am not sorry to get the extra three weeks’ training before going on my leave. There is nothing of much interest to tell you, except that General Richardson gave us a good address. He gave us the impression that the war would not last long. By the way, you will be amused at my tinder box. You know it is almost impossible to buy matches here, so lights are in great request. I got a tobacco tin and clianed some rag. A blow from a bit ol flint on the back of my clasp knife (Massey’s issue) or the bayonet, and the trick is done. My box is in great request now, in my hut, and I’m getting quite expert at striking a light, Sept 25th. —I have nothing much to do and so am dropping you a line, especially as I am afraid you may hear through others that I have been in hospital, and I want you to know that there is nothing very much the matter —gastritis, that it indigestion. The Adjutant reckoned a little rest cure wouldn’t do me any harm, so lie sent me to the Observation Hut. I think I’ll finish this note and send it asquickly as possible to post in case anyone ‘springs on you ’ the news that I am in hospital, first, aud then you might worry. For without thinking, I mentioned to that I was here, and they might get ahead of me in telling you. Lying in bed I have had time to think and make many plans. I like to remember the good times we have had camping in Westland, and look back always to that trip to Lake Brunner with the greatest pleasure. If we had been multimillionaires we couldn’t have had so good a time. I will never forget that outing to Nelson Creek either, and the great quantities of splendid blackberries. When I get back I mean to fix up for a trip down South. I want you to hear the beautiful choruses of the bell-birds at Lake lantlie, aud at Mapourika, to see the golden-crested grebes and the cranes. The West Coast is really a most beautiful district. While in bed I read a good deal. One book I struck was named “ By : and Bye” (Frank Briton). This ' book drops on Gladstone properly. Another book I read was “Britain’s Deadly Peril,” by Win Le Quex. He runs down Mackenua. Of course this book is out of date. It was written two years ago. Among other things Mr Le Quex shows up the English Government’s terrible neglect of the spy r menace. Great questions will have to be decided in the near future, when the Empire is upside down, busily reconstructing alter the war. Clever speakers will be required to express the thoughts of others, so it is well to practice debating—tire “gift of the gab ” will be decidedly useful to those who have it. As I have no news to rell y'ou, barring the fact that to-morrow there is an all day route march for all New Zealanders in Sling Camp, I have written some rubbish instead. You know’ that while in camp in New Zealand, we thought we were very short of time for writing letters, but we had no idea how well off we were. No brass burtons or brass work to polish, no rifle to keep properly clean, and more time to do it in. Here, we have to do all this and more, besides all kinds ot fatigues.

Oct sth,—i am still waiting for letters from home. It is now a month since I got mv last letter from you, so you can imagine I am becoming a bit impatient. I hear that some bags of N Z. mails were put ashore at New York by mistake and that it will be some time before they reach us, as about a fortnight is taken to sort them after they arrive in England. I suppose you will be surprised to hear that I have not yet gone on draft leave. I was rather surprised to find that instead ot getting leave after I came out of the Observation Hut, or hospital here, I was to be transferred to Codford Hospital. I’ve been having bad attacks of indigestion, but they call it gastritis and have kindly sent me to Hospital. I it a regular home here, and am quite content. I want you to thoroughly understand that I aiu not very ill (not in the sense I use the word). The reason that I am here, is, the authorities are not sending anyone into France to spend a winter in the trenches, unless they consider them to be fit in every way. Well, for one thing, the tucker in the front line is a bit rough ; and with a weak stomach I’d not be much use. Imagine me here on “ chicken diet” with plenty of milk to drink. At present it looks as if I will spend part ot the winter, if not the whole of it in England, for I have missed my draft, as they have now had their leave. Were I able to return to Sling Camp to-day, I would not getaway to France before Christmas, at the earliest. I expect you won’t be sorry to hear this. I'm not grieving myself unnecessarily—especially alter hearing graphic descriptions of winter warfare, from the soldiers in this hospital. I think I will soon be better, as the good tucker (not to mention the medicine) is doing wonders. In the meanwhile I am now having a good rest and so don’t you be concerned. I an not in bed now, but instead help to ‘wash up’ and do other little ‘odd jobs.’ Now for a sketch of the hospital. I’m in No. 3 General N.Z. Hospital. Codford. The room I ‘doss’ in is called No. 7 ward, and is a long hut. There are many similar huts joined together by long covered passages, and this is known as a ‘hospital.’ The huts run right up into a deep, narrow, little valley, and are quite sheltered from the north wind. ‘Aussies’ and ‘Newsies’ (or New Zees, as the New Zealand troops are called) get on quite happily here. A number of ‘ Yanks ’ have also arrived on the scene. Just try to imagine ‘jargon ’ spoken by these three different branches of thy English race. I ‘ guess’ and ‘ kalkerlate ’ that when the ‘ diggers ’ return to ‘ Noo Zee ’ they’ll astonish the inhabitants ‘considerable’ be their ‘cute’ accent and ‘grave phraseology ’! Some are industriously cultivating an * English style ’ of the ‘ Haw Haw ’ brand, while others prefer the Yankee florid (or brand of metaphor). There is no other news to tell you, except the Huns are still being pushed back. October iotli. —I wish I were able to rustle round now, for the hedges here are blazing with bright red berries of hawthorn and briar as well as of a vine, rather like supplejack. The leaves of some of the trees are turning yellow and are beginning to fall, so winter is not far away. Last night I was delighted to get a budget of letters. I suppose everything in the garden will be glorious new. as the clematis and ‘ cucumber-tree ’ must be blooming,

14th October. —Perhaps it will interest you to hear that I have been ‘X’ rayed four times. Of course this only means, they had a look at my ‘works’ to see il anything needed overhauling. I am glad to say that there was never the least hint of ‘operating.’ The •X * rav room is quite an interesting place. I used 111 y eyes well in there, and took notice of all the apparatus. Talk about a wizard’s den. Imagine a black painted room with a large bench in the centre, and all kinds of apparatus around the walls —induction coils of huge dimensions, oscillators, ‘ tubes,’ spark gaps, wires, switches and stacks ot photographic materials. When the shutters were closed the room became pitch black. In a moment or two a motor started to hum, next an 4 oscillator ’ added its roar to the noise, and sparks began to flash and crack. The wires overhead had a luminous 4 field ’ (or glow round them, and a swift stream of yellow sparks crackled in one enclosed ‘ spark gap,’ while in another tube a hissing stream of heliotrope coloured light (or sparks) jumped from end to end. 111 the X ray tube (under the wooden bench) a beautiful mauve glow emanated. I lay on the bench and the 4 operator ’ held a 4 fiorescent screen ’ over my 4 tummy,’ till he got the view he wanted, when lie substituted a photographic plate (in a thick black paper envelope). Alter exposing for about half a minute, the trick was done. I saw some of the ‘ pic tures’ the next day. It’s curious to see a picture of your own backbone.

I will now change the subject. The hospital is like any other military institution. Reveille etc and discipline, but it is a real home. I can’t say I am sorry that I am not in Sling Camp wading in the mud ; or in France, bogged up to my neck. Possibly I won’t see France uutil the spring. The Christmas mail will soon be closing here. I veiv much wish I could get to “ town ” and buy little things, but this is impossible. So I will just wish that you all ilia}- have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Just imagine how we are going to spend the Christmas after this one. It can’t be long before the Huns ‘cave in,’ and then all the boys will come marching home again.