EXPERIENCES OF WOUNDED.

Taihape Daily Times, Volume 7, Issue 270, 16 August 1915, Page 3

EXPERIENCES OF WOUNDED.

THU. AT TACIS AT CAPE HELLED. (Prom Malcolm Loss, Official War Correspondent with the Now- Zealand Troops.) ■ ALEXANDRIA. T7lh June. They were sitting in the lounge a* Bhcphcard’s. There wore four of them—three New Zealanders end a long-limbed Australian- —end they were sucking long cold drinks through straws witli evident enjoyment, for the mercury had climbed above the hundred. The New Zealanders had been “out there, ’’ and the big Australian was gating a few liints as to what it was like. He was the only sound man in the quartette. Ho had not yet been tliere. The lance-corporal had a paralysed yog and hand, the burly private had come back with pneumonia, and the third man—the son cf a Canterbury parson—was minus an arm. I ordered five more long drinks, with ice. and listened to their stories. Three weeks ago they had had enough of j war. Now they were all longing to get out to "the beach’’ again, to have 'what they call "another go.’’ It was clearly evident, however, that so far as war was concerned they wore, all three, done with the unspeakable ■ Turk and the even more unspeakable German But they wore taking the situation witli a philosophic, calm and a grim humour that proved them men of the breed. The armless man had one complaint. He said it was rotten luck to have to keep all his money in the one pocket! Fortunately, it was the right hand pocket. He told us his tragic story as if it wore two acts of comedy. He had been very badly hit in the arm, but he managed to walk down to the bench,- and eventually found himself on a transport, about which the Turkish shells were bursting. There he met a doctor, and told him that he was going to lose an arm. The doctor, to cheer him up, said that he wouldn’t lose it. "If yon don't know I'm goinrr to lose that arm," he replied, "you’re not fit for your job.’’ Most of the doctors and men on the transport were just going ashore, and Private E. was sent up on deck with some other wounded. There he became unconscious. At 2 o’clock he woke up, and it,was decided to amputate. There was some trouble in getting him under the anaesthetic. Four hours later lie came to and found there was a sheet over his face. There was a row of wounded lying alongside the deck. He pushed the sheet aside, raised his head on his hand, and asked the man next to him —an Australian—for a cigarette. The hitter stared at him in blank astonishment. "Groat Scott!’’ he said. "You were counted out an hour ago!’’ But Private E. was by this time very much alive. He got his cigarette, someone lit it for him, and he started to stroll along the deck. Just then a doctor came up and swore at him. "You have no right,’’ he said, "to- be smoking a cigarette just after you have have come out of au anaesthetic,’’ and he seized the cigarette and threw it j overboard. The surgeon had made

] finite a job of the arm—under difficnlij lies —and in three days it was healing I splendidly. The operation was on the Monday, and on the following Sunday they had token the stitches out. In a few more days the patient was walking about the streets of Cairo as jolly rs a sand-boy, beat regretting that he had to keep aid his money in one pocket! One cl: these men, who was in the fighting at Cape Holies when the brigade was sent down from Gaba Tope, described how the New Zealanders went through the lines of the 29th Division to take a Turkish trench ahead, and of how the British Tommies gave them a. rousing cheer as they went, file French were pressing forward on the right, and the Turks there were retiring. The 3rd Canterbury were in Cue third line —the last line of supports —yet though they saw other companies being shot down in front of then they never wavered or hesitated. The Aucklanders on the left lost heavily. With fixed bayonets the New Zealanders went forward and carried ; line of trenches 500 or GOO yards in front of the British position. Tin scene was an inspiring one. Some of the British Tommies took off their car and cheered. Others jumped out of their trenches, and, fixing bayonets, joined the New Zealanders in the charge. Having gained their advanced position, the New Zealanders had to nig in under heavy fire, and that is no joke, for, as yon lie fiat endeavouring to dig up a little mound of earth in front of you, the bullets are all the time hitting the up the dust, while occasionally there is a dull thud as one finds a softer billet in a comrade close beside you. That night the Turks came at them several times. Our men could hear the word passed down the Turkish lines in a low monotone, and presently they would see forms silhouetted against the sky. Then the rifles rang out, and the Turks foil or staggerd back. Towards daylight, when our men could see better, their fire was more effective. Some brave deeds were done that night in bringing in wounded. When daylight came there war one man in the Canterbury trenches who stood up occasionally to get a better shot at a Turk, "By Jove! I got that one,’’ he would say as he ducked back into the trench. He admitted it was rather a risky ganie for himself, but said he would have just one more shot. He stood up for that last shot and got three bullets. One of them wont clean through his head. The bravery of several of their comrades was frequently refererd to by these three young New Zealand so’Jdiers, each of whom belittled his own efforts, and each of whom did not wish his own name mentioned.

The sequel to our pleasant meeting was rather sad. A little later, while I was packing up for Gallipoli, the lance-corporal brought one of the trio up to my room. He had gone off into a faint—heart trouble after pneumonia. I laid him on my bed and tended him while the corporal went for a doctor. Poor chap, he was prety bad. Later, we got an ambulance and stretcherbearers, and had him conveyed to the

New Zealand Hospital at Abassli, where lie would bo well cured for. “Poor Bob." said the lance-corporal, “it was j a great bit of luck wo got him. He might have pegged out altogether.” We left hi m in the hospital, and next day we were all scattered — one going to Gabs Tepe, one to Capo Holies, one to England, and the cuearmed man back to New Zealand. Such is war!