By-ways on Service: Notes from an Australian JournalDinning, Hector
History
By-ways on Service: Notes from an Australian Journal
Dinning, Hector
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Australian
There is something high-sounding in the name Australian Imperial
Expeditionary Force. The expedition with which our troop-ship
cast loose justified, so far, our part in that name. The false
alarms relating to the date of embarkation, raised whilst we were
still in camp, had bred in us a kind of scepticism as to all such
pronouncements. When it was told that we would go aboard on Tuesday,
most of us emitted a sarcastic "te-hee!" And it was not until on Monday
morning our black kit-bags were piled meaningly on the parade ground
for transport that we began to rein-in our humour and visualise the
method of voyaging and believe there must have been some fragment of
truth in what we called the Tuesday fable. We believed it all when
the unit marched in column of route on Tuesday to the ship, and the
quartermaster brought up the odds and ends on a lorry in the rear. But
even so, we were prepared to lie a few hours, at least (and some said
a few days), before casting-off. Some of us had even devised visits to
and from the homes of our friends, in our mongrel-civilian fashion, to
sit once more--or twice--and say good-bye. Quite the majority of us saw
ourselves swaggering about the port, slaking thirst, and being pointed
at as "the Boys." By two o'clock the last baggage came over the side,
and we sat a moment to breathe. Some didn't wait to breathe. As soon as
they got well off the pier, the gangways were raised. By 2.20 we were
in motion. The hope of embarkation, deferred so long, was realised with
a suddenness that almost forbade the saying good-bye. Many a friend,
expecting the hand-clasp, watched the transport steam relentlessly
away; many a man, bracing himself to the final show of a light heart,
saw the gangway rudely raised as he innocently rested after the labour
of embarkation; and all his show of bravery ended in an unwonted
glistening of the eye and a silent turning away from those who would
have turned homewards from the shore, but could not. Many smothered
what they felt in the wild hilarity of jingoistic dialogue with the
shore and with civilian craft flitting about the transport. Two belated
members of the column tore along the pier towards the ship in motion,
embarked in a launch, and were received; and three months of irksome
sitting in a preparatory camp were well-nigh gone for nothing. Two
others, who had "gone up the street for an hour" to make merry finally
with their friends, were left lamenting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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