ANZAC DAY ON A SINKING TROOPSHIP.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXVII, Issue 7917, 11 August 1917, Page 2 (Supplement)

ANZAC DAY ON A SINKING TROOPSHIP.

AUSTRALIAN HERONS ON THE BALLARAT.

On the night of May 2, the Secretary of the Admiralty issued the following:

“ The homeward-bound troop transport Ballarat, carrying a large number of the Australian Imperial Forces, was toipedoed by enemy submarine and sunk oil April 25, about 35 miles from the nearest land.

“Owing to tho magnificent discipline and steadiness displayed by the tfoops, which were in keeping with tho finest traditions of the British

Army, all the troops were enabled to be got into the boats, and they were brought into harbour by our patrol craft, which speedily came on tho scene. There were no casualties of any sort.”

From a trustworthy source the Daily Telegraph” (London) haii received the following account of the sinking of tho Ballarat, troopship No. 70. This story affords a fitting pendant to those of the Tiyndareus (sunk by a mine off Cape Agulhas, South Africa, on February 9 last) and the immortal Birkenhead. In this case thev were Australian troops who faced the imminent prospect of death with cheerful heroism and coolness, and their conduct, like that of the Middlesex Regiment, under Colonel John Ward, M.P., adds fresh lustre to a great British tradition.

There had been a great send-off when the troopship left Australia v for this was the first time a shipload of Australians was to make the voyage to England with an unrestricted submarine warfare advertised by the German artists in murder. Most of the men, nearly every one, in fact, came from Victoria, and it was a proud moment in Victoria when the news came through that her sons came up to the very top mark as they did. Boat drill is dull. Many of the men used fluent and flowery parts of speech to say how dull it was. No sooner in bed than the alarm was sounded, no sooner back in bed agalin than the alarm was sounded again, and then the “advance,” that found sleepy, almost depressed men at their boat stations. They repeated their drill until it took but four minutes to get the men out of bed and standing bv their stations. At tho time the Ballarat was struck it took, within a second or two, exactly the same time —drill, discipline, tradition: above all, tradition. Why? The men knew they were in for a big thing, and they wanted to do it bigly. Even the parrot was saved, and he in now having his rations given him by naval officers. It is a soldiers’ parrot, but they say he takes very kindly to sailors’ customs. A hawk elected to come aboflird during tho voyage and make himself agreeable; and the hawk ‘s now goodness knows where, for lie flew away when the ship was sinking. The hawk and several cats are the only missing. It was Anzac Day (April 25), and the officers were planning to hold a memorial service. The officer commanding the troops was dealing with a remanded case. “ And what have you been doing?” he asked, when there came a dull crash, a sound that seemed, as lie .said, “to lift the skin off your face,” and the ship began to take a list. The “alarm” was instantly sounded by the bugles, instantly followed by tho “advance.” Without confusion of any kind the men fell in at their boat stations. This was real. During the voyage they had been told tho stories of the Southland and the. Birkenhead, of the behaviour of the troopi and men on these occasions. Those men who had used flowery and fluent parts of speech condemning the boat drill now used equally literary expressions in praise of it. “ It’s all right, boys,” a man called out, “the old man is on the bridge.” “Don’t sing too loud,” said an officer, laughing, I can’t give my orders.” “Stand easy” was given out. The turn of the navy came now. These men, knew, instinctively knew, that the navy would turn up. It turned up. Destroyers and traiwlers appeared like magic. ''There was a moderate sea, and tho ship, (been struck near the propeller, began settling down by the stern; she did not actually sink until about four hours later. SAVING THE PETS. While waiting for the boats to be lowered some of the men sang, somo actually settled down to play cards. The nurses remained with the medical staff until all the patients had been provided for, and the whole medical staff remained with the patients until they were safely placed in boats. Every pet was saved, with the exception of somo of the ship’s cate, and cats, as Kipling satys, prefer to walk alone. Over the side went Bill Anzac, an Australian parrot in a cage, a grey squirrel had the run of a raft, a fox terrier and her puppies became, the guests of the officers of a destroyer. And it was all done decently and in order. No heroic, no fuss, and a great deal of humour and absolute efficiency. Due to what? Training? The training was the training of the raw troops. Trust in officers? Partly. The officers knew the men and the men believed in the officers. Skill in handling the ship? The men knew that would lie all right, and it was all right. The feeling of security when certain details of the nalvy turned up? (“By the way,” says a man, “they treated me top-hole— bath, smokes, food them.) That feeling of security/ ls always there. No. Something more than that —something that is iii'Britis.h blood which says, “One does the decent thing.” It is not exactly courage, because heaps of the men we.o in a funk; and it L not exactly bluff, because you can’t put up a bluff in a sinking ship, and the sea looks awfully big when one cannot see any land, and there’s just a handful of officers running the job and enough boats, and a fearful ignorance of maritime geography. It is a thing which is very difficult to define. It is the voice of the Empire speaking to each man, and it says: “Look here, old chap, we do the thing jolly well, and we always have, and we are always going to. Are you game? All right, come along.” And nobody else, least of all a German, understands it. In the words of Lord Roberts, in the words of any officer who has had to do with our men —“The men were splendid.” It isn’t easy to stand on the deck r.f a sinking ship waiting for the word “Go,” but Great Britain expects of her sons that they will behave as those Australians did, as the men of other ships have done, under like circumstances. Play the game.

The mails written home hr the men were in their sacks, and they were saved. The bandmaster saved his cornet. Now, the bandmaster—and it was a good! band—was wont to call upon his hand to fall in by moans of a certain cal! on his cornet, and when the men were in tho boats, sure enuogh, from a destroyer, they heard the old familiar cornet sing out, hut the band l could not reply; the band had not saved its in-