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The Kia ora coo-ee : the magazine for the ANZACS in the Middle East, 1918

['R.A.S.': There is strong evidence...]

"R.A.S.": There is strong evidence, I state it rather in sorrow than in anger, that teetotalism is becoming rife among the A.I.F. Our unit held a bivvy competition recently, which resulted in a tie between two teams of three men each; but neither would accept the prize, six bottles of beer. Every man was a teetotaller. Is this the first authentic record of beer going begging in the Desert?

* * * * * *

"Corporal Geebung": Since I've been in the Camel Corps, I have learnt something about the animal, and I reckon that it is the most lob-sided thing that ever was created. I think that the Almighty must have been kind of absent-minded when he made it. There is something casual and unfinished about a camel. It has neither length, breadth, nor thickness. It just happens here and there. Yes, the decorative effect of a camel is decidedly limited. Even a young camel is a horrible looking accident; but a big camel looks like a weatherworn piece of rubberoid roofing, thrown over a couple of posts. I suppose camels have their uses, but it always seems to me that carrying men into battle is outside their natural scheme of existence. On long reflection, the only value that can be truthfully ascribed to a camel is, that it is keeping a mighty lot of chaps in the Camel Corps so busy that they haven't time to brood over the other horrors of this awful war. My camel is a harmless looking occurence, with a mild eye and an appealing voice; but it doesn't do to be taken in by these trappings of innocence. That camel can make more trouble than a cyclone.

* * * * * *

"E.A.H.": A member of the A.L.H. was recently brought before his C.O. charged with imbibing too freely of the cup that cheers. His charge sheet did no put it as politely as that, but stated that on such a date Tpr...................was "Drunk." As it was a first offence, the C.O. took a lenient bearing towards the prisoner, and awarded "Admonished." Questioned in the Mess as to how he got on, the trooper replied: "After the C.O. had listened to all the Provost Corps bloke had to say, all I got was 'demolished'."

* * * * * *

"C.C": Event the blinking old Desert preens itself at the magic touch of Spring, and the weird creatures that thrive on sand are marrying and giving in marriage at the double. The black beetles, with spikes sprinkled over their backs, are busy laying eggs, in shallow pits under a leaf or twig. Snakes are becoming numerous, and one of our chaps found a horned asp the other day. Butterflies are chasing each other in the sunshine, and "old lady" ants are running about like mad. It is Spring, all right, and I could reel off yards of poetry.

* * * * * *

"Twenty-Two ": Was one of the Canteen parties that went from the Peninsula to Imbros in November, '15. Everyone was looking out for any useful thing that apparently wanted a home. Being of a rather ambitious mind, I scorned a mere case of milk, but had my eyes glued on a box about five feet long, and nearly three feet square. I had a mate from one of the infantry brigades, and with much skilful work we eventually got this case out of the yard, and on to the trawler. It was a mysterious case, having no brands to indicate its contents, which, of course, might have been anything at all. In fact, there was a chance that there would be about three months in it for the lucky bloke. Well, we got the box to the boat, and landed it on the beach by Walker's Ridge. I had to go up to Table Top while my mate was in Rest Gully; and so the arrangement was, that he should take it up to his place while I was to come around the next day. The following morning I inquired for Bill. "Don't be silly," I was warned by one of the chaps. "Why, what's the trouble?" I inquired. "Oh, nothing, only Bill's gone raving mad. Brought a case over from Imbros yesterday, with some Light Horse bloke, and look what it is." I had a look around, and saw the side of the hill strewn with reels of white cotton No. 30. I didn't wait to see Bill.

* * * * * *

"Bill Bowyang": We were scouting around Anzac beach one night in search of anything in the eatables line, and behind the spot where the boxes of biscuits used to be stacked, we came upon several bags of onions. Many of these were quickly trasferred within our shirts, and we were just upon the point of returning to the trenches when a voice came from the gloom in front of us, "I say, lads, if you want more onions there's about twenty bags down at the A.S.C. dump." We didn't worry about a further supply of vegetables. You see, it was General Bird-wood who spoke.