A WAR MEDLEY

Hokitika Guardian, 27 August 1929, Page 7

A WAR MEDLEY

AFTER FIFTEEN YEARS. Ihe setting was the British Consulate in a large. German , city, and the time 10 o’clock in the morning of August 4, 1914 (says M. E. J. Cocks in the Sydney Morning Herald). Outside an excited • German, crowd went marching, running, shouting by, whilst inside Indians, Africans, Canadians, Australians, and folk from the British Isles were massed together irrespective of age or class or colour. On the stairway some lively Canadian tourists wero talking animatedly, and in the large room opposite several Indian University students wore trying to explain the situation, as they knew it, to a French-Caimd-ian with a limited knowledge of English. 111 one corner a young West of England mother was hushing her baby with a Devon lullaby and in another a. frail old Scottish couple were wistfully watching, and probably envying, some youthful Australians, whilst an Irish comedian was gallantly struggling to make the time pass more pleasantly with witticisms to which no one paid the least attention. A varied crowd, indeed, wherein East and West stood linked by the. common bond of British citizenship in the face of a common danger. One and all waited for the British. Consul. ‘‘When will he come?” That was the question on every tongue. At each fresh footfall heads were turned- expectantly,,only to meet with disappointment. From dawn these Britons had been gathering and tensely waiting for the Consul and their marching orders. His arrival was

the event of paramount importance to one and all. How would they travel? In cattle trucks? In vans? No 011 c cared so long as the. way to England lay ppen, what the means of transit or what the discomfort of the route.

“When we get home.” That was the burden of their talk. Yet to most of them England was but a name. A week before and they had been Indians, Australians, Canadians, but when war oame they were “just Brit-' ishLondon, centre of. the Empire, their 'Empire, and England “Homie.” ■Rumours flew. Hope, fear, the whole gamut of emotion, had been traversed in the first hour and reenacted in each succeeding hour so

that long before mid-day nerves were fradc, indeed. Steadily the heat gi;ew\more oppressive as steadily the crowd increased. Suddenly a voice boomed out from the doorway: “Subjects of his Britannic Majesty, t your Consul left for

England several hours ago; but at the request of his Britannic Majesty’s Government the United States Consul will look after your interests.

Please proceed immediately to the American Consulate and you will be advised.’’

The Consul gone—impossible! Yet that had been the message. Were they then deserted, betrayed? Con-, sternation reigned momentarily, but then that poise, typically British, reasserted itself.

Next came the exodus. A little crippled English woman seized her crutches, but at the same moment a •big Rod Indian showman, lately on tour with a circus touched her shoulder, “Ma’am, please permit me to cm> ry you; my arms are very strong,” and with the words he lifted her like a child and joined the procession of black and white, brown and yellow, old and young, who, now walking, now running, traversed the distance between the two Consulates. A Newfoundland student carried a pinkcheoked baby, and a most immaculate society lady led a grimy small girl by the hands. They were so unlike in aspect, the units in the procession, yet tliev were so amazingly friendly. Two qualities alone they seemed to have in common. They were all British. They were all quiet. En masse they arrived at the American Consulate, where officials, although endeavouring to be kind, yet seemed widely separated in spite of a common language. They were neutrals. The British were combatants. The noise the Americans made in bewailing their losses of luggage was almost incredible. So. many had been caught, whilst travelling, by the congestion attendant n.pon mobilisation, that miles of luggage lined many railway termini, and for all these trunks and ibags the shrillest-voiced females in the world were wildly clamouring to their Consul. Blocks away that clamour, so essentially un-English, could be hoard. The British stood to lose so much more than mere clothes and travelling gear, hut they were quite calm. In the weeks following the declaration of war young British wives were often to bid farewell to husband perforce left behind and mothers to sons. Yet never was there any fuss, and hysteria; quietly the women bravely smiled their good-byes, and quietly from all sides came the “cheerios’’ of thp men. To all those oddly-assorted people who had gathered at the British Consulate, August 4 brings many memories, and one is always of the new meaning, born that day, of British citizenship under the British King.