BEHIND THE LINES.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 7752, 22 July 1916, Page 4

BEHIND THE LINES.

COLONIAL TROOPS IN FRANCE. HUMOR AND ROMANCE. (From Malcolm Ross, Official War Correspondent with N.Z. Forces). NORTHERN FRANCE, May 20. “Well, this is better than Gallipoli,” said the General, smiling. “My blooming oath,” replied the Australian soldier, and there was a world of meaning in his curt phrase. “How’s your health here?” ventured the General, still smiling. “Pretty crook,” came the quick response. It had occurred to him that in his first reply he might have admitted too much. Both answers were typical of the character of the colonial soldier. But to one who does not know “Tommy Cornstalk” this apparent casualness might seem to indicate familiarity, if not disrespect. Yet nothing was further from the Anzac soldier’s mind. Just as the English Tommy used to refer affectionately to General Roberts as “Bobs,” so the colonial soldier has his own particular appellations for the Generals and the officers he knows. When Lord Kitchener, General Maxwell, General Birdwood, and General Godley climbed the heights of Anzac to view the Turkish lines, one of the Anzacs asked who they were. “Oh, that’s Billy Birdwood and three other blokes,” said his mate. A little later, when Lord Kitchener addressed the troops, this apparently indifferent soldier would be one of the first to join the cheering throng. Similarly, when the Prince of Wales was in Egypt he was heartily acclaimed by the Australians and the New Zealanders, though one of the most enthusiastic was afterwards heard to say, ‘‘ I don’t take much stock in Royalty, but I simply had to cheer.” The quick-witted Cockney soldier has a humor of his own, the Irishman has a ready wit that never fails him, and there is the delightful humor of the Scots soldier with which lan Hay has made us all so familiar. Again, the crisp, dry humor of the Canadian is a novelty in France. And now there has been added another blend, for the men from the Antipodes have certainly a humor and a slang of their own. Their definition of the various batches of volunteers that have come out to fight is worth quoting. The first contingent became known as the “Tourists.” They were out to see a bit of the world. Incidentally, they would do any fighting that came along. And they did it. Then came the “Dinkums”—the true fighting men they called themselves, “dinkum ’ ’ signifying the very embodiment of all the virtues. There followed the

“ Super-Dinkums,” the “ War Babies,” and the “Hard Thinkers,” the latter having thought a great deal before they came. But even the “Hard Thinkers” are quite up to the mark. It will tax the ingenuity of the colonial ‘ ‘ Tommy ’ ’ to find appropriate names for the batches yet to come; but one may be sure that .lie will do so. In the meantime, strange Australasian terms are being grafted on to the language of these French and Flemings. Even the “imshi” of the Egyptian Arab has been transplanted into the vocabulary of the boys and girls of Northern France per medium of the soldiers from overseas. Often the colonial “Tommy” affects an air of surprise or incredulity when his first reply is not exactly understood. “What do you belong to, my man?” asked a famous General who was visiting Anzac. “Me?” replied the “Tommy.” “Oh, I belong to the famous Third.” “Why famous?” added the General. “Why fa Why famous!” exclaimed the “Tommy.” “We’re the blokes wot took these blooming hills!” And now the colonial “Tommy” is beginning to adapt another language to the environment in which he finds himself; but his incursion into the new vocabulary sometimes leads to rather amusing consequences. Recently an officer asked one of his men if lie was guilty of a certain dereliction of duty. “Oui, Oui,” replied the delinquent. “Very well, seven days’ C.B. Comprendre?” said the officer. In Egypt and on the way to France, the necessity for good discipline was instilled into our troops, and on the whole their discipline has been satisfactory. It has been the custom in the past to tell amusing stories about the discipline of our troops and that of the Canadians. The question of saluting was often the theme. “I saw an extraordinary tiling today,” an 'English officer is reported to have said in the mess one evening. “What was that?” asked a brother officer. “Well,” replied he, “I saw a colonial soldier saluting his officer!” That story, however, can no longer be told with any scmblage of accuracy. Both the Australian and New Zealand soldiers now salute as if to the manner born.

A great deal that is highly imaginary regarding the troops from the Antipodes has already been appearing in the English press. It has been stated that they have been put into a difficult and very important part of the line. Really it is the very opposite. Indeed, our section is known as “The Nursery.” Apart from the usual shelling there is very little doing in it. Whether they will remain there or not only the higher command knows, and, naturally, it won’t tell. The men in the trenches have been also amused with a highly imaginary account of a fight between the Germans and the Australians, said to have been altogether to the advantage of the latter. As a matter of fact, though no part of the trench was lost, the Germans actually had the best of that foray. There has also appeared an imaginary account of a wood-chopping contest between a Frenchman and an Australian, in which the Frenchman was said to have won. The contest was really between a team of Frenchmen and a team of Maoris, and the Maoris won! The Australian and the New Zealander do not like undue praise or praise of any sort until they have earned it. The fighting here is going to be very different from anything 'hat our men have already taken part; n. Physique and dash and initiative will no doubt still come in, but not to I lie same extent as at Gallipoli. Here our men have more done for them by others. A great deal more will depend upon the co-ordination of our |

artillery, and the success with which it is handled in a critical attack or advance. That much is already clear. The Australians and the New Zealanders have to prove themselves under new circumstances and in a new field. Already, on the borders of a ravished land, the little mounds are beginning to be heaped over our dead. But that was only what our men expected. They have taken the chances, knowing full well what they were to fight for, and already some of them have given their all. They are sleeping their last sleep in alien but friendly soil. From some touching verses in “The Anzac 800k’’ —which, by the way, has made a fine impression out here—one stanza befitting the occasion may be appropriately quoted:— Yet where the brave man lies who fell in fight For his dear country, there his country' is. And we will mourn them proudly as of right— For meaner deaths be weeping and loud cries: They died pro patria! It is often stated that all the romance and picturesqueness has gone out of war, but that is an inaccurate estimate. The warrior of to-day, it is true, does not ride off with his “ladye fair” at his saddle bow, and he is much more likely to use the curtailed modern equivalent of “ By Our Lady” than the original phrase. He recognises that poison gas, tear shells, flame liquid, and high explosive are more deadly and more prosaic than the arquebuse and the javelin. He may even be a little disappointed not to find the splendid wine and the foaming tankard of the romantic novelist. The old lady in the bookshop at Marseilles who told us that there was good beer and good cider here was at least not a brewery expert. The beer of this country doesn’t foam. It is a weak, brown, wishy-washy liquid that even Marscel; our landlady’s boy, aged ten, has with his breakfast. And as for the wine—well, there is wine and wine; but the average colonial soldier has not the cultivated palate. But for all this, many of our men realise that they are in a land of history and romance. There are still maids that are fair —the French and the Flemish—and the bar of an alien language was ever one that could be readily overcome in the fields of romance. Already attachments are being formed, and it will be strange if, when the war is over, some of our Antipodean soldiers do not settle down in this fair land.