TO FRANCE.

Taranaki Daily News, 26 June 1916, Page 3

TO FRANCE.

OUT ON THE NEW TREK. THE ANZACS LEAVE EGYPT. (From Malcolm Ross, Official Correapondeiit with the N.Z. Forces). At Sea, April 2. Our camp was in the desert, "somc,where in Egypt." It was at a most interesting; spot—troops moving about; aeroplanes flying at liigli speed overhead; the great sausage-shaped lialloon swinging leisurely in the blue; and ships, large and small, passing to and fro. Occasionally the distant cough of a howitzer, registering, awoke memories of Gallipoli. But there was no .sound of any answering gun. All that was by day. At night it was still interesting, hut much quieter. The chuff! chuff! chuff! of a pumping engine sending water into the tanks for out in the desert lulled, us to sleep. Save for this chuffing monotone, the occasional "Halt! who goes there?'' of a sentry, the answering call of ''Friend!" and the final response of "Pass, friend: all's well," silence reigned in our camp.

The northern constellation shone gloriously in a blackness that was intense, and Venus, with attendant Jupiter, dipping toward the dim Mokattain Hills, blazed brilliantly. On other nights the great bright moon of the dry Egyptian skies challenged the radiance of the evening star and flooded the scene with golden light. From far up the- Canal came the steely glare of the searchlights, throwing the sandy undulations into high relief and turning some solitary soldier on the bank into silhouette. Those were days and nights to he remembered.

At times, from the bigger camp across the Canal, came the sound of music and the roll of the drum, indicating that some regiment was moving off. Following the music of the band faint'cheering could be heard and (he stirring strainF of the National Anthem. These were the distant sound of farewell ceremonies; for the ;-,.!;•(;. -.iow knew that it had done with (he desert and was to leave for fresh fields and new adventures, mayhap 'to strike a blow for Mother England and for France. As one regiment moved out another moved in. It was a kind of general post. Sometimes just as dawn was coming up, rosy fingered; over the rim of the desert, we could 'near the band playing, and presently a regiment would come swinging down the duty road. They had started out on the new trek, to France! From now 011 there was a continual marching and counter-marching of troops. The long pontoon bridge that the Australian Engineers had built across the Canal at Lake Timsah creaked and swayed under the tramp of marching men and camels and horses, and the rumbling of the transport waggons. On the ferry, with its hand winches and rattling chains, more men and camels and horses passed from shore to shore. Day after day the marching went on, the first of the Australians coming out, the New Zealanders going into the desert trenches. Then the New Zealanders—splendidly fit witli their hard training—marched out. Later still came the Maoris, with their free swinging stride—horn soldiers. Across the Canal it was a case of welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. Gallipoli, where our fallen lay thickly huddled in the little cemeteries, and along the lines of trench and charge, and wher; the still-clothed skeletons of our unbnricd dotted the slopes and hollows of what was No-Man's-Land, was behind us for ever, and. though (here were many sad memories, there were no vain regrets. The Turk, in win, had proved himself a gentleman, and as he was-not the real enemy we were quite content to lea\e him to others._ In fresh fields we might prove our prowess anew. There was an expectant eagerness amongst the troops as they set out at last to grapple with the real.enemy—on the fields of France and Flanders!

A long-distance telephone message in the night-time was our warning at short notice to report for embarkation at Alexandria. Arrived there we found at one of the many quays a big blackpainted Atlantic liner already halffilled witii troops. A thousand others were waiting with their packs and rides ready to embark. A crowd of avaricious Arabs fought for the privilege of carrying our baggage. On board, the tired men were lying about the decks or searching for their billets. Every second man seemed to be sucking an orange. The decks were strewn with discarded peelings. Tiie ship's cranes were busy with the heavier cases of Army Corps stationery and the niajiy other tilings that an Army Corps Headquarters needs. Quietly and methodically the embarkation proceeded—the embarkation of some three thousand men —and towards evening a tug came alongside and pulled the nose of our ship round as she headed for an anchorage.

White lateen-sailed boats were gracefully skimming about the harbor, and here and there a motor-launch threaded her way through the dance. All that night we lay at anchor, waiting, with the steady ,slow pulse of the pumps beating. The pause gave the three thousand men time to shake down. Perhaps it also enabled us to get through the danger zone under cover of the next night. In the smoking-rooms old Anzaes met and talked of other days. There were

many Anzaes hero who had been in the thick of it. The men chatted in groups and whistled and sang "Australia will be there." In the evening the General came on board. After dinner the officers set-

tled down to books and magazines, and a quartette, forgetting war for a moment, sat down to a quiet rubber of bridge. Next morning there was more stir on 'board—the sound of bugles blown and commands from non-coms, and orders from ship's officers breaking in upon the

hum of conversation that arose from thousands of talkative soldiers. The harbor was crowded with shipping. From

lime immemorial Alexandria had never been so busy. Someone had said that there was more shipping in the harbor

during the past week or two than in any

other harbor in the world. While doubting this, one could not but stand ainazed at the amount of tonnage. Amongst the stately steamers that crowded the port one recognised old friends. "That's the old thing we went down to Gallipoli in," said a war correspondent, gazing seaward over the rail. She was swinging at her anchor awaiting her turn to take another load to the new sphere of action. In the smoking-room some officer. l ) were writing letters to wives or relatives o> friends—letters that, perhaps, might never be delivered. Already the deadly submarine had accounted for one of our big ships, but luckily she had discharged her load, and so there was little loss of life. Nearly all the crew had come safely to Malta. She w". simply oae more vessel at the bottom of the Medi,terrwiea.n, and sojue ship, w.n-jjht

take her place to carry the overseas armada on—to France! On our port bow, near at hand, another trooper lifted her anchor and swung round, like a graceful lady in a ball-room, to make her exit through the gateway of the inner harbor. She, too, was crowded with troops for France. Many others followed.

From the feet of the great mountains of Maoriland and the sun-baked plains of Australia to our new zone was a far cry, and already we had made history on the way. ' The stirring scenes—a wondrous succession of pictures—passed now with cinematographic rapidity before the mind's eye—the first capture of German territory by.ever-ready New Zealand; the taking of Gorman New Guinea by Australia; the assembling of the great armada at Albany; the long trek across the seas: the destruction of the Eindeii: Hi" hard training on the heavy scorching sands of Egypt; the fight'on the (.anal: the assembling of the still grealcr armada at historic Lemnos; the landing at Anzae; the ■slaughter of the oncoming Turkish horde in.Mav; the taking of Lone Pine; the charge' of the Light" Horse at the Neck; the storming of Chunuk Bail- by the New Zoalander> in August; the winter blizzards of the Aegean; the marvellous ei.iciuition; Egypt and tiie Canal and the desert again. That was the end of the first film.

And now this m-w embarkation! "The Soul of Anzae," whom " c were wont to meet in rolled-up ■■liiri sleeves, and without any sign of budge of his generalship, rubbing shoulders with "his boys" in (he firing-line 0:1 (.'allipoli, now in neat-fitting tunic with three rows of ribbon on it, is here with us, cheerful and alert as ever. He lias threaded a new film on to the machine, and a great Imperial assembly is patiently and expectantly awaiting the new theme. Will it be as startlingly dramatic as the old? The verdict lies still in the womb of the future. But we who have seen something of tiie stress and strain of Anzae will listen for it with a calm confidence amid the clash and rattle of the roaring boom of war in our new sphere of action.