N.Z. TROOPS IN EGYPT

Grey River Argus, 18 April 1940, Page 9

N.Z. TROOPS IN EGYPT

[N.Z.E 1? . Official News Service.] CAIRO, March 16. Can Napoleon, when he declared that an army marches on its stomach have had a vision of the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force ? If m our thrice-daily rush to mess parades we could stop to think, we should probably reflect on the truth of his famous saying.

Our appetites seem to grow apace in the dry desert air. For the cooks whose task it is to give the meals the spice of variety as well as sufficiency, within the limits of the ration scale, our healthy hunger must be the start of a headache or two. It is a fact that the food question is one about which men can most easily find room to grumble, but it stands to the credit of the cooks that real causes for complaint are rare. When it comes to minor “grouses”, the more reasonably-minded of us have to agree that, after all, this is a war, and a war must mean a certain amount of sacrifice in everything. We find a sense of humour is the best antidote for any tendency to grumble. That spirit is exemplified at one mess hall where a notice above the doorway reads: “Moaners’ Rest.” Of the food itself, we are beginning to think the traditional “bully beef and stew” is becoming a mere legend. Certainly it still appears now and then, but it is overshadowed by less historical rations. At breakfast, for instance, in addition to the basic items of porridge, bread, butter, jam and- tea, we have bacon —usually with eggs or tomatoes—or steak and tomatoes. There .is .soup practically every day at lunch time, with such dishes as Welsh rarebit, tinned fish or tinned meat, and often an orange for each man. The evening meal brings us a hot meat-and-vegetable dish, with various puddings, pies and sweets.

It is beyond our experience to compare our well-being with that of the New Zealanders in Egypt 25 years ago, but one who should know —Ser-geant-Cook “Paddy” Bourke, held the same rank in the Wellington Mounted Rifles, serving in Egypt, Palestine and Gallipoli. “Paddy,” as we all know him, says there is a world of difference between then and now. He tells us that in the last war, he had to work in the open air, and that the men carried the food to their tents instead of messing in the halls we use to-day. The food itself has vastly improved, too, in his opinion. And he agrees with us that the New Zealanders have brought some pretty hefty appetites to Egypt with them. “We just can’t stop feeding them,” he says.

Only experience can bring a full realisation of the sense of security which the ships of the British Navy

are giving to the “All Red” routes i in these days of peril at sea. To travel in a convoy guarded by great, grey ships of war is to understand for the first time the meaning of the silent, efficient service which is the Navy’s responsibility. Members of the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force have had that experience. Throughout our long sea voyage to Egypt we seemed to feel, day in and day out, the protection which our ever-watchful naval escorts were giving us. The sight of sleek cruisers, a battleship bristling with armaments, and'an aircraft carrier closing comfortably in upon the lines of transports at sunset never lost its thrill. At daybreak they were out on the horizon again, cruising, patrolling, watching. How closely they watched ! One of our ships might fall back behind the rest; the great battleship would wheel about and come hurrying down through the company of liners, spray flying from her bows, a churn of foam from her stern, a lamp flashing urgent, inquiring messages from her bridge. Circling the liner, she would stay close until she had been reassured. Since the units of our naval escort underwent changes at several points in the journey, by the time it was completed we had been watched over by ships serving under the flags of New Zealand, Australia, Britain and

i France. It was a constant source of wonder and surprise to discover that some new ship of war had slipped unostentatiously alongside our troopships. We went above decks one morning, for instance, in time to see the speedy destroyer in the accompanying photograph gliding past us to take up her position. When she had joined us, and whence she had come, were mysteries to us. But once more that comfortable feeling of security expressed ■without words our gratitude to the Navy. BOAT DRILL. The old man, for so we called the ! Captain, insisted on our knowing our boat drill as we travelled on our way to the war. In every cabin was a notice telling us the number of our boat in case we met with disaster at sea. Every Saturday the alarm rang, literally shrieked through every corner and cranny of the ship. To our cabins we rushed, grasped our life belts and as we rushed on deck, pulled them over our heads. In the process be it admitted we often collided with a fellowman going in another direction. On deck, by our boats, we fell in in two ranks and as the officer called out our names the ship’s crew let go the boats till the gunwales were level ' with the deck. Qur officer was armed

with his revolver and we had one soldier with rifle ready too, to enforce a discipline that in such an ex tremity might possibly call for drastic action. The crew ran up on the deck with blankets and rations and the ship’s officer who was to navigate the boat .stood by his men. Two of the crew jumped into the swinging boat, and cleared the halyards. In a few seconds we could have been in our boat on our way to the water below. Provision was made to bring up those in hospital. We waited for a little while, then came a whistle and a signal from the adjutant. Party dismiss” from our officer, and we [ were back again at our deck games, or our letter pads. There was no slacking allowed at boat drill—we were soon ready to meet an eventuality which by good fortune, never came.