THE "DINKUMS" & "JOHNNY"

Evening Star, Issue 16198, 21 August 1916, Page 6

THE "DINKUMS" & "JOHNNY"

WL?v! tish ?S cer , servin F on the Staff in & fc D^ W Maii e^ he folf ° Wing t0 *****

iJnr, Ji f, am £ world fchat haa c ° m Q into W along the fcues Canal and is sheltered its sunbS CMal d / feuces ? re66nfcs *itKn of war tv ar6a ?l Sa V d *" the contrasts ami p *. a y that h ere, between Suez MV tnn ff M 1 1 "3, aDd eßt meet ta to Sans and T' P"?™! is here > tho A «straIndh„ s ™ W Zealan <]ers are here, and the ™ni™ T , hrou .e h and amid their thromred ™?» l? ta - Wind> da y in > da y out, the ieilas e t y BeL lm^ tUrbable ™ ns of the mt f Belleat , h the palms and acacias of the alle vs »h«T.h tad ° ala °P in its orowded the? h,7 1 1 m ? no P lan <* ronr through tno not, resonant ar Tho „„.t „„„„i dredgon, clank and rattle* Motor lorne o alter a ong the lakeside roads de natch riders whirr Jy on their motor eye es From tfon a nf°i S - the ' loße f fc comcß the d «» *»r£ to of big guns at practice. And to the ghUeimg sand ndges, from the lonely places, stately Arabs oomo on their camels andrtano' watching with coldly curious eyes rho see™. T - THE DiJSJiUiiS. Everybody calls them the Dinkums It is a term of respect as well as of endearment, for they are as fine and keen a body of young men as any in our armies. YhTJ y P 7. a 7 ,s i t , t0 England, which they ah uuend to do before thov go homo everybody will call them the Dinkums, too' ana everybody will come verv soon to mean oy the word just the same affection and respect Umt wo mean. The Dinkums aro the isew Zealand Riflo Brigade. Some of them have been in Egypt for the past three months or so. and have seen brisk service on the western frontier. The others aro new arrivals, and are hard at work completing their training and getting thoroughly acclimatised, Zealand worked out for herself a smtular|y Jj, a PPy social arrangement for her units. The wealthier young men and those i rum the leisured olass are largely in the mounted brigade—the Canterbury!), Wellingtons, and so forth—who formed part of the urst i\cw Zealand contingent, and, joining up with the Australians, becamo the immortal Anzacs. The New Zealand infantrv, the tirst contingent, wore largely farmers and men from country districts. The Dinkums, on the other hand, hail mostly from the towns. They come from law offices and business houses: they are accountants, students, young men in merchant adventures of their own, journalists, Civil servants, clerks i'noy represent, the younger industrial generation of N ew Zoaland. Shrewd, common-well-balanced, tenacious of purpose, firm in speech and hearing, the Dinkums carry no stamp of office or counting-house upon them. They are lithe and strong; every man of them plays games. In boaring they do not differ from Englishmen. An Australian you can tell at a glance from build and manner; a certain freedom of bearing, a certain assurance, a sparenoßs of figure reveal him. But until you talk to a Ll,!k ™ J'?" would not think h'un other than a young Englishman who has passed from puD,:c school into business along cusfomarp roacs, is keen on his work and on his games too. lha Dinkum is only revealed to you as aics Zealandsr in his talk, which has tiio freshness and buoyant unconventionalitv ot a young country combined with shrewd fore-sightedness. He is widely curious boyishly interested in the life of the East. ' —The Glorious "Anzacs." The Anzacs, of imperishable memory, have expanded into an army which in physique and zeal can hardly have its equal in the world to-day. But the Dinkums dc not swpnit ; they are proud of their fellowcountrymen m the mounted units—"good men with horses/' said one to mo the other day. And the older New Zealanders think a great deal of the keen young Dinkums. It is a pleasure to talk to a Dinkum about the war. He shows, with the Australian, a farsighted and practical patriotism. To him from a land wilh high hopes for the future' i.'ie war is as much a war of markets as of weapons. Australia and New Zealand are working with relentless method and in countless ways to stamp out German trade, so that after the war they may benefit by the new markets. In victory they see a 'great opportunity. For them the war is to open a new era. They are working for that They will get it. The Dinkum has no false sentimenlalism about these things. To him, in economics, as in the trenches', war is war! Some in England might learn a lesson from the Dinkum. lI—JOHNNY. To the white soldier everybody who is not white is "Johnny." He lias many races and many occupations, but he is by no means an unimportant part of the British Array. He may bo of those sturdy little Maori infantry, so readilv adaptable to circumstances, so cheery, and so respected by the New Zealandefs. He may be of (he Camel Corps, or he may be a Ghurka of the ferocious look and* sweet smile. But the " Johnny " of our camp life en the canal is the childlike, incredibly disreputable individual of thieving propensities and incurable indolence who serves in the Egyptian Labor Corps. •'Johnny" does the fatigue work of the Army. If you have a camp to clean up, a goods train full of stores to unload, a compound to rope in, an incinerator to set up, or anything necessary but, dull of that kind to do, you telephone and ask for a quantity of "Johnny." Next morning, at the appointed hour, you will find squatting beneath the dusty acacias outside your camp the required quantity of "Johnny." His clothing is scanty in the extreme; 'seldom has ho a complete shirt. A few flapping rags or fragments of sacking constitute his clothing, except for a long blue winter greatcoat of old Service pattern, which he regards with prido as his uniform, and, however intense the heat, only with the utmost reluctance. With "Johnny" come a jrroup of native overseers. siishtly less dishevelled, bu' bearin? authority in the shape of a whip. With this "Johnny" is occasionally hit when caught idling, hut he. is never hurt. The whip has a moral effect which spurs him to energy for about a quarter of-a minute. Then he relapses. Yet, cheerfully Ja7.y as he is, " Johnny" gets through an extraordinary amount "of work. He is so constituted muscularly that be cannot lift any considerable weight, but when a load is placed aptly on his "back he will march off with a weight twice as heavy as the average white man could carry. But the magic that alrme. ran make "Johnny" work is the magic <*f chanting. With each gang goes n chanter, and the better the chanter the better the work. "Allah-he" from the chanter. "Allah-illah" from the chorus. The chant is interminable on a minor scale of two or three notes, rising and falling monotonusly. - To its rhythm I' have seen scores of trains loaded; the chant iiwvre the heaviest weirrhts, clears away the most desperate obstacles. "Allah-he" they sing in the baking sunshine. "Allah-illah!" The chant has many variations, ranging from the most pious idealism to utter obscenity, but"" whatever the words, in its steady, relentless lilt there is a mystery of race that the white man can never understand, and there is the solemn magic of the desert. And sometimes, by some deep-rooted and inexplicable impulse, even at a task so commonplace as the stacking of ammunition boxes, the chanter will gradually swing hi» toilers to a. veritable hysteria of chanting. Then they work in a of energy as if they were taking part in some mystic ritual. se-T. dervish ceremony of an obscure and violent faith. They stop exhausted. The task is done. "Johnny" files ' ■,* f ':'_•■• eamp, squat* hy th« rmoH'V. or fnlls asleep in the slr.de of the acacias. Such is " Johnnv."