AUSTRALIANS IN CAMP.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 364, 10 April 1915, Page 14

AUSTRALIANS IN CAMP.

RECRUITS AT THE STADIUM. PUGILISM AS A PUNISHMENT. [By "Cornstalk Atkins," in tho Melbourne "Age."] Since the Stadium was- erected at Broadmeadows camp life has acquired an interest that has robbed town leave Df thirteen-sixteenths of its former joys. Who but a jackass or a fellow dilly on a petticoat would want to blue his gonts and twilight in the city when lie can stay here and get about 400 per cent, more excitement for nix? That is the general feeling, and it is.proved by the tremendons roll-up every evening around our modern makeshift for a Boman amphitheatre. Talk about your Bread and Circuses, give me our stadium every time. The point is, no man knows for a minute but that he might not have to be one of the gladiators to-morrow night himself. Take my own case for an instance. Only last Tuesday evening I happened to brush against Private X as I was diving into the tent we share in common with eight other blokes, and he rasps out,"Who are yer shovin', you awkward cow!"

Now, he ain't a bad sort, X, just a bit iouchy now and then; but of course no chap' worth his salt will stand for being called a cow; so I answered.according to prescription, and result was we were duly hauled up before the O.C. first thing next morning.

The charge was quarrelling and disorderly behaviour, and we pleaded guilty like a pair of Washingtons. The O.C. demanded particulars, and then asked us mighty stern wouldn't we Shako hands. I looked at X, but he gave me -a scowl that made my - gorge rise, so I said it couldn't be done. And What .d'ye think X did? He said he wouldn't touch me with a pole in a paddock. v

Remanded to the Stadium. f I may be wrong, but I got an idea from the O.C's expression that ho wasn't grieving at our stubbornness. He biirks out erisp and pleasant, "Case remanded to the stadium this evening.'' Then he fixes us with a grim grey eye—"Understand, you men, you're on your honour to behave like gentlemen in the meanwhile. I'm not going to have any bickering in this camp. Understand." So wc saluted, and the sergeantfcnajor bundled us out of the tent. For the rest of that day you'd have thought X and me were pals, we treated each ,otW that polite; and at mess we made a point of offering each other first help of condiments. But we were sizzling underneath; at least I was, and I made up my mind I'd ram the "cow" down Ids bloomin' throat, when' the time came. A Concert and a Tight.

A day never passed more quickly. We did physical exercise in the morning, company drill in the forenoon, and battalion drill in the afternoon. A month ago I'd have been a wreck, but the training I got in that four weeks

had made me hard enough to yakker like a navvy no end, and liko it. I never felt fitter than when I toddled alojug to the stadium that night. The first item was a sing-song, with a rousing chorus. Next Private obliged with a ventriloquial stunt —pretty good, you take it from me. Then there was a fight to a finish between Jimmy-fi«sm-the-wirc-fenee and a cove what used to be a tailor. It was a willing scrap, but the tailor was a winner from the word "go." He side-stepped each bullocky rush of Mr Backblock, and Swung a dirty right as Blind Force was passing. Jimmy took his. gruel like a little man (he weighs 16 stone), but he was groggy at the end of the second round, and iu the first five seconds of the third he caught one on ■ the point that finished him. He wasn't too dazed, however, to do what 5000 onlookers expected, ami you ought have heard the cheers when he shook the tailor's outstretched hand and let the tailor help him from the platform. They've been the best of cobbers ever since. But that's digression.

Another Fight. After the fight I've told about we had two more sing-song items, and a Clever dance by a visiting professional. Then came our turn —with X and mo figuring as stars. I had stage fright bad as I climbed up. My knees wobbled under me, and I felt like I was going to faint. My corner sergeant saw how I was and he corkscrewed his shut fist into a tender gpot somewhero round my left kidney. Gee. but I nearly caught myself mistaking him for X. It did me good though, and I'd bucked up no end be-

fore they'd finished reading the re-

mand charge. Then the gong went and */i%e were at it. I rushed at X, and X i irushed at me. We met somewhere and

brought up against the gloves, punching like kicking steers—no science, but plenty of ginger, and all in. The round lasted about thrco weeks, and then we slunk back to our comers in the midst of such •» babel of laughter as never was heard before.

My corner sergeant gave me enough directions S to freight a coal hulk, but I didn't hear them rightly. I was too occupied getting back my breath;; and, Lord! how I hated X. Round number two: Thump, punch, thump, punch—for seven months. Then we stood off and looked at each other; and about twelve million voices jeered us for doing it. "I'll teach yer to shove me!" said X, with a grunting sneer.

"I'll show you who's a cow," I gibbered back. And we were at it again.

Nearly Out. About fourteen years later the gong went, and it was stagger back to corners. Next round we both felt better, and on one impulse we tried tactics. I swiped at X, and he ducked his head —> a yard off the hit. He swiped at me, and I sj>rang back about a quarter mile. I didn't mind the crowd's yells, but when I saw X's corner sergeant doubled up and helpless with mirth, I felt ashamed, and, sailing in, I rushed X to the ropes. The second after, somebody lifted me nicely and gently about a mile high in the air, and then let me drop with a terrific thud on the floor.

I woke xip to hear a silly bloke counting "Five, six, seven." When he got to "eight" I got a glimmer of what it meant, and scrambled up. X promptly smacked me one across the chops, and I was that that I hugged him. T was still hugging him when the gong banged, and the sergeant hauled me to my corner.

Round four saw us both a good deal fresher and more earnest than when the job started. We just gritted our teeth, and, standing up to it, we gave each -other punch for punch without attempting to ward or dodge a blow for the whole round, and the crowd went mad with delight, and instead of jeering praised us to make a cat blush.

v The Finish. , The fifth round was the last. The end came in the most curious way. X. had given me three straight punches and I'd given him three, and it was my turn again. Now.l didn't put any more ginger into my fourth punch than any of'the/first three, but there it was. No sooner did he catch it than -he crumpled up and fell, and lay there gasping like a fish out of water. He looked so sick and white that in a second I tore off my gloves and was kneeling beside him. "Say, old boy, you ain't hurt, are you—say, say, say! " He gurgled a bit and choked, but before I could get real terrified lie was up to the scratch again. "Hurt be blowed," he said with a grin. And he stood up, glowering round at the sergeant. * ' Counted out 1 Blimey! " He was just as surprised as I was. We looked at each "other, and I said quick, (< lt was an accident.: But we've got to shake, you know.''

"All right, Bill," he replied, "I take back the cow." So we gripped hard and got off the stage; and if there's a white man in our camp it's X., and the cove that says he isu 't has got to tackle the pair of us. I actually heard X. say the same of me yesterday. That's what fighting out a quarrel before the camp does for blokes. Settle it any other way you like, and it's a sure thing some bitterness will linger, and you'll always be doing a bicker; but not with the camp's eye on you. Then, you feel it's up to you to play the game, and you naturally do it, and just as naturally you like doing it. And I'll say this, the man who had our stadium put up and made the rule of remanding quarrels in theamphitheatre—well,what he doesn't know of human nature ain't worth noticing.

m Voice Trial by Jury.

But it 's not always the one sort of quarrel that wo settle in the stadium. Thore's the case of Private Z., for example. The other night he got a kink in his cerebellum, and after lights out what must he do but insist on singiug a long, sentimental ditty and keeping the whole tentful of his cobbers awake. They expostulated quietly and urgently, but all in vain. At last the N. 0.0. in charge had to be firm and lug him off to the guard tent as a common nuisance. In the morning, of course, he was up l>efore the»O.C. for disorderly behaviour. The charge was so unusual in its particulars that the 0.0. got interested. "Why did you insist on singing?" he demanded. "You knew that your companions were tired, and wanted to sleep.'' Private Z. replied, "It was a good song, and ] 've got a good voice. They ought to have listened." The O.C. was real tickled. "Huh!" he says, "Case remanded to the

stadium this evening. You will sing your song before the camp. If the camp decides it is such a good song, and you are so good a sioger that your companions ought to have listened, you'll bo discharged; otherwise you'll be puuishod."

Not Guilty. All day long 6000 blokes thought and talked about nothing except the new Solon and pined for evening. When it came, sure enough, Private Z. was in the programme; and when his turn was reached the charge and remand were formally read out, and he was shoved on to the stadium. Gee! there can't be many jsongs like that, I hope. <Tt was about an ivy-covered cottage and a pretty maideu. It had three or four thousand verses, and each ended with the words "a picture no artist conld paint." It told a long story about the maiden leaving tho cottage and being deluded by a "fly" bloke and being rescued by her true lover, and at last being brought home safely to the ivy covered cottage "a picture no artist could paint."

Well, well. At first we listened for the sake of the trial. Then we got bored. Then we got to wondering how long that song could last; then how lon<» the singer could last. Then wo got interested. Then we saw the humour of the thing and fell to laughing and cheering. And at last, when the song was finally over, we cheered and cheered and laughed till our sides ached. Then we gets the 0.0., and he solemnly remarks, "Private Z, you are acquitted. The camp has decided that your companions should have stayed awake and.listened to youf song." And once more we yelled ourselves hoarse. Say, we do get some fun at Broadmeadows. What? It may not be fun of the delicate lass order, but it's innocent and it's manly, and it thoroughly contented us. We owe it all to our stadium and to the man who made the rules. And just because of it most of us would much rather stay in tho camp than havo a high old time iu the city._ '