SCENES ON A TRANSPORT

New Zealand Mail, 27 August 1902, Page 22

SCENES ON A TRANSPORT

EXTRACT FROM A SOLDIER’S LOG. Drayton .Grange, Albany. “Barely three weeks ago two thousand men were crammed aboard the Drayton Grange at Durban. A few hours later a case of measles was reported. To-day half a dozen hastilycontrived hospitals in various parts of the much over-crowded ship are filled with sick, forty of them pneumonia patients, hovering on the great dividing range.”—Newspaper telegram, July 30. DRAYTON GRANGE AT SEA. August 2.—Battalion Order No. 21— "No. 1768 Farrier Thomas Harland and No. 2065 Trooper Charles Cundy, having died-, are struck off the strength of tho battalion from this date.” “Ding-ding,” sounded the shrill bell on the bridge. “ Dong-dong,” called back the deep-toned time-teller on tho forecastle. “Clang-clang, clang,” from the bridge —an answering echo from the engine-

room; the throbbing engines ceased oounting the homeward stages, the vessel slowed, then stopped, swaying sluggishly in the smooth-surfaced seas. In the waist a silent crash of khakiclad men turned expectant faces to a small cleared space. Two wide smooth planks lay on the sanded deck. On the roof of the hospital aft “something”— sheltered in the folds of a flag. A party of armed men wound their way through th Q crowd and stood to attention on eithe. side of the planks.

“Shoulder arms!” The Padre, in his snow-white surplice, was pacing slowly between the bareheaded ranks, lialf a dozen stalwart men following with their flag-covered burden—behind, more men and another burden.

Forward the. ship’s hell tolled. The solemn words of the burial service were audible to the hushed mourners. A murmur—almost a sigh—ran through them. “Present arms!” The officers saluted, the unarmed men instinctively stood to attention, offering the soldier’s last tribute of respect ti bis comrades. Slowly and reverently the bearers lowered their burdens and placed them on the planks. The ship’s carpenter stepped briskly forward, and tacked the flags down. The boatswain and a couple of hands unshipped the rails and left a gaping gangway for the seaward slide of the canvas-clad dead. The Padre was reciting the service. "... Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery ” The bearers slowly slide the plank to the side, and raise the ends. “For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take unto Himself the souls of our dear brothers here departed ” The bodies slipped from the up-ended planks, splashed softly, then sank so swiftly that the morbidly curious failed to trace their passage downwards. “We therefore commit their bodies to the deep, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up its dead, and the life of the world to come through our Lord Jesus Christ.” The firing-party wheeled inwards to the rail—three volleys rang out over the unmarked graves. The “Last Post” sounded on the trumpets. “Unload!” “ About turn!” “Dismiss!” August 3.—The bell is tolling again. The same crowd fills the waist: the same strange hush is over all. A splash—the ring of the rifles and blast of bugles—and the story is told of one more who has paid the last great penalty.

August 4.—Yet another. The ship merely slows down now—frequent funerals mean delay. The firing-party is perfect. The service seemed shorter. We are getting used to death.

August s—The burial hour passed, and faces looked brighter. Perhaps our luck had changed, thought the cheerful. At 5 o’clock the word went round—“ There's another passing.” Half an hour later he was entered outwards on the ship’s books.

From “Sydney Daily Telegraph,” 11th August.

Dr Shields, the principal medical officer on board the Drayton Grange, m his report to the Defence Minister of the _Commonwealth, said:—The epidemic of severe illness may be attributed to the shameful and scandalous overcrowding of the troops. The unfortunate men were packed everywhere < on board without the slightest consideration for their health or the possible loss of life. The air, especially in the mornings, between the troop decks was poisonous, used up and absolutely foul in fact, there was quite a stench in tho day time. If the men came on deck for some fresh air they had to stand on sloppy decks, with dirty water from the wash-liouse swishing to and fro, the scuppers being totally inadequate to carry the water off. The prevalence of the severe types of pneumonia and influenza on board was directly due, in my opinion, to the hot, poisonous, and foul air by night, and then standing by day with wet feet. At night-time'half the men had to lay themselves on the floor of the troop-decks, and these floors were at night-time still wet from the morning’s washing of them. Hence more cases of colds, pleurisy and pneumonia. Men had to he discharged from the hospital long before they were properly convalescent to make room for more urgent fresh cases. The root of all our trouble was disgraceful overcrowding.