MORE BIRDWOOD YARNS.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 13, 11 June 1920, Page 3

MORE BIRDWOOD YARNS.

The following was told about at Wytschaete in the '17-18 winter. Birdie was "visiting" — just going around, talking to all he met, taking no lunch, as usual, and making his A.D.C. pinch cheese and biscuit-s from battalion cookhouses. Scene 1 : Morning. Enter Digger. "Ha; good morning. What's your battalion?" — "The umpteenth, sir." — -"Good battalion. Were you with me in Gallipoli?" — "Yes, sir." "Good man." "What sort of a time are you having now?" (Dubiovsly but politely) : "Pretty fair, sir." — "Getting good news from home lately?" — "Oh, yes, sir." — "How's your father?" — "Very well, sir." — How's your mother?" — "Mother 's dead, sir." — "Ah, I am sorry to bear that. Well, hope you have a good time. Good-bye!" Scene 2 : Afternoon. Enter Digger. (Eush! Same bird!) "Ha! good afternoon. What's your battalion?" — "The umpteenth, sir." — "Good battalion? Wereycu with me in Gallipoli?" — "Yes, sir." — "Good man! What sort of time are you having now?" — (Dubiously bnt politely): "Pretty . fair, sir." — "Getting good news from home lately?" — "Oh, yes, sir." — "How's your father?" — "Very well, sir." — How's your mother?" — "Still dead, sir."

Birdie was in the firing line, and he met several Diggers starting out over "No .Man's Land" armed to the teeth. ""Where to boys?" inquired Birdie. "To capture a strong post, sir," replied one. "Good!" exclaimed Birdie. "Where is the N.C.O. in charge?" "Here, sir," replied a burly lance-private. "Good!" exclaimed Birdiey eyeing him witll approval. "Right, go on. Give it to the Huns! But be careful." "Splendid boys," murmured Birdie, as he watched them wriggle away. He met the party later, and inquired of their exploit. "A wonderful success, sir," replied oue. "We captured the post." "Did you kill any Huns?" asked Birdie. "Oh, yes, a dozen or s» but that was not what we were after. We ean kill them any day. sir. We captured a! cellar of champagne — you can't get that every day." Twc months later he met a Digger whose face seemed familiar, and he stopped him. *'How do you do, my boy? Your name is " "Sloggins, sir," replied the. Digger, as Birdie paused. "Ah, of course! Glad to ses you, Sloggins ! ' ' and his eyes rested approvingly on the M.M. ribbon the Digger was wearing. "Let me see, you got the M.M. for—" "Capturing the most champagne in the battalion, sir," replied Sloggins, with a twinkle in his eyes. ^ It was early winter (1916) at Codford, Salisbury Plain, England. The battalion order was out for paraae and address by General Birdwood in the afternoon, so every one knew it meant a heavy morning' s work on training ground as a preliminary. Buc as luck would have it, that morning the cook's bacon ran short, and about thirty men — nearly all in one hut — had no breakfast. The result of this was loud complaints. to the O.C. when "fall in" sounded. To overcome the difficulty and restore harmony, the O.C. went along to arrange breakfast for the thirty who had come a "gutzer," and left the sergeantmajor in charge with orders to send the sufferers along. " 'Shon!" shonted the sergeant-major to the four platoons. "All men without breakfast this morning fall out in front!" To his consbernation, at least 150 men fell out. Looking up and down the new line, he noticed a couple of men who he knew had had breakfast, and • challenged Vhem on the point, when another one immyi!Ei£ely chipped in : "We are here in sympathy, sir." " 'Shun!" immediately shouted the ser-.geant-major again. "Those only-in sympathy fall back into your proper ranks." So he got his thirty men. To a Digger who complained of sa-nd in his tucker, General Birdwood said : "What have you come to fight for — your country or not?" The Digger replied, "I came to fight for it; not to eat it." Our Artillery Division was out for a spell, said spell consisting of hard work — viz., performing open action manoeuvres. The quartermaster's position was in the rear of the Battery for the purpose of maintaining the line of communication between the guns and the ammunition waggons. Being very green at" the game, and greatly flustered on account of the General's presence, he was making a'horrible mess of things, thereby calling down the wra-th of the Most High upon his inexperienced head. "Quartermaster ! Quartermaster!" the Battery O.C. yelled di&tractedly "where in the devil's name are your lines of communication ?' ' The unfortunate Q.M., not knowing the difference between lines of communication and a set of drag ropes, frantically scratched his head, and came back with "Curse me if I know, sir — unless the sergeant loaded 'em on oue of the gun limbers!"