SCENES ON THE VESSEL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16021, 13 September 1915, Page 4

SCENES ON THE VESSEL.

APPEAEANCE OF INVALIDS.

EAGER FOR THE SHORE

DISEMBARKING THE TROOPS [BY TELEGRAPH. —SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.]

Wellington, Sunday. As soon as morning broke through a thick, soaking, foggy rain, officials of the Defence Department went aboard the Tahiti, and commenced the wearisome, complicated business of paying the men, correcting their records, and placing them in various medical grades. The men, in parties, came reluctantly from the deck, where they hung about gaz'ng hungrily upon the mist-swathed city. Lines of waiting men stretched from the offices along the corridors and out to the decks. The officers -worked rapidly, but the lengthy fussing over names and numbers, while home was so close and eager friends were waiting only a few hundred yards away, was a proceeding which the men found irritating, and they grumbled humorously in the time-honoured manner of Thomas Atkins.

No relatives were allowed aboard, but when the little Defence steamer went out at eleven o'clock "with officers and pressmen the rows of sunburned men along the Tahiti's decks sought anxiously for familiar faces.

" Don't know 'em," commented one soldier from his post high on the upper deck.

" Doesn't matterthey sneak English," shouted a man with a bandaged leg on the lower deck, and they laughed and cheered.

" How is the recruiting in New Zealand?*' was the very first question the visitors were asked, and the reply— "The longer the casualty list, the more the enlistments"was received with every sign of satisfaction. The Tahiti is a large ship, but the 500 men seemed to crowd her. They sat about everywhere, few appearing impatient, but, although the ship would not berth for hours, every man had his kit-bag packed and labelled, lying near at hand. In every corner, at every table, were men carefully composing telegrams to be sent ashore by the next boat.

Health of "she Invalids. The scene did not conform with the usual idea of a hospital ship. The men, brown, soldierly, and uncompromisingly cheerful, gave a general impression of robust health. But here, there, and everywhere were soldiers with fingers missing, or an arm in a sling, or a foot heavily bandatred. Many, apparently uninjured, shrank from a touch; they were suffering from body wounds of a more or less serious nature. A considerable proportion of the 500 carry bullets and shrapnel in their bodies, and will undergo surgical operations soon. Egypt reeks with disease, and every wound offers a possibility of septic poisoning. So tho army surgeons, when it was considered safe, sent men with lead and iron in their bodies away to healthy New Zealand, where the wounds may be reopened without danger. Many other men, who suffered greatly from fevers and dysentery while in Egypt, have almost recovered as a result of the voyage to a colder climate. The hospitals aboard the ship contained mostly seriously wounded men—many of whom will suffer permanent partial disablementand the remainder seemed to have lung troubles. There were one or two serious cases of pneumonia. It is thought that about 60 per cent, of the men will be completely restored to health within a month or two. Every man spoken to aboard the ship, even those permanently disabled, was eager to return to the front. Courage and Fortitude. The men spoke in terms of high praise of the attention they had received at the hands of the medical staff and the four New Zealand nurses aboard. The nurses said that almost every man had greatly improved in health as "a result of the voyage, that the men had been excellent patients, and that the courage and fortitude displayed in the more serious cases had aroused their admiration. The rain and the work of the record officers ended together, and the sun shone brightly as the transport swung m towards the crowded wharves. Up to now the men had exhibited a surprising sang froid: week-enders returning from gulf ports to Auckland on a Monday morning would have shown more excitement. But when the flags of the decorated citv could be seen, and there came softlv over the water the cheers of the crowds", the troops were less indifferent. They laughed and joked at first, as they lined the rails, but presently, eager faces turned shoreward, they became curiously silent.

Scenes on the Wharf. As the ship swung into her berth a great crowd of " next-of-kin " came surging down the wharf and a band struck up 'Home, Sweet Home." It is apparently against a soldier's creed to show the least regard for sentiment—but these, after all, were nearly all young colonial boys returning to a beloved land after a year's absence and after passing through a terrible phase of a terrible war. Ashore there were relatives and friends frantically anxious to greet them and do them honour. The cheering became louder and the troops more silent. These men, already famed throughout the world for their courage and their disregard of danger, now looked straight ahead over the rail, ashamed to let the fellow on either side see their faces. People on the wharf when the ship was alongside hurried up and down, cannoning into other people and apologising not, searching for the faces of soldier sons, brothers, or sweethearts. "Here he is, mother," some elderly man would cry' directing his wife's attention to a helmeted stalwart man high on the deck, .and she would take one look and then burst into tears- Somewhere else a young lady, fashionably dressed, would suddenly begin to jump about and wave her arms and shout, "Dick, Dick," and Dick would cease to be a stoic and become a wildly excited lover. The delay in arrang- , ing the gangway was too much for some of the "invalids," who tried to climb down the side of the vessel. They were chased back, of course, but they seemed to find it a relief to do something.

Then the disembarkation commenced. In theory the men were to march down the gangway, enter an endless chain of motor-cars, and be borne off swiftly to the Town Hall. In practice very many of the men, at the foot of the gangway, dodged past guards and policemen and were seized upon by the impatient " next-of-kin." All found their way to the Town Hall eventually, but they went with a girl or a jubilant man on one arm and on the other a mother who was very proud. Down the gangway came the comparatively few "stretcher" cases. These men were either badly crippled or seriously ill. but they smiled and waved a feeble hand cheerfully to the crowds. There were painful scenes as women suddenly recognised in some hesitating, khaki-dad figure, disabled for life, a loved one who went away a few months ago in all the bravery of his youth and strength. But these cases were few.

ENGINEERS MAKE BOMBS. HOW GUN-COTTON IS USED. One of the innumerable activities of the Field Engineers was described by Corporal G. W. Ineley, of the Engineers, an Auckland lad who has returned with bomb wounds on his face and arms. "We made hundreds of a sort of bomb for use in the trenches," he said. "We cut pieces of wood into shapes roughly resembling hair brushes, and bored a hole through the broad end. On one side we fastened a piece of gun-cotton and on the other a. short piece of fuse. The fuse, with a detonator, was led through the hole to the explosives. These articles were held by the email end. The fuse was lit and they were thrown very considerable distances. This sort of fighting was going on constantly where the trenches were close together."