The Desert Column. Ion Idriess

and the regiment. They all have their sections. Our squadron officer at present is Captain Bolingbroke, for the Old Bird has gone to France. Bolingbroke is well liked. He is a long, lanky fire-eater, fitting successor to the Old Bird. Dr Dods has also gone to France. Major Maclean is the doctor now—he is such a decent old chap the regiment has taken him to its heart.

      A wind is eddying curls of dust from the sandhill tops. Here goes for a smoke before it is my watch again.

      April 28th—The Turks have all retired towards Mageibra. The 6th and 7th Light Horse patrols sent in word of burying sixty dead Yeomanry at Katia. Two days ago they found twenty other poor chaps. We are wondering as to the fate of the prisoners. The Turks must have taken some, surely. Poor devils.

      ...The regiment is in great spirits. There is constantly the chance of excitement in the air. We are actually getting a little bread right out here in the wilderness. ... The colonel must be an observant old cuss. He has introduced “spearpoint pumps.” He saw them used in the Ayr sugar district, in Northern Queensland. They are very effective. They are only a pointed tube, perforated. We can hammer one into the sand and draw water from it in under a quarter of an hour. Previously, it took two men at least half a day’s hard work before they reached water.

      April 29th—On outpost last night towards Beetle Hill. Ideal country for snipers, but not troubled ... No one would recognize the tiny Scottish redoubt now. We are turning it into a formidable position. We hope the Turks will attack, just to try it out.

      April 30th—The lice are wretched damn things. A man’s daily tally is about thirty except when he’s right off duty and gets a chance to take his pants down, and then God knows how many he gets.

      May 2nd—The regiment “Stands to!” every morning at three o’clock, a silent rising of armed men—ready. The Turks love to attack in those sleepy hours before dawn. They will get a shocking surprise if they tackle us. We are a crack regiment now—ceaseless training has made us so. A crack regiment of Australian Light Horse possess a terrible fighting-power—and instant mobility adds to our regiment the strength of two. Out in the open desert our mounted regiment could defeat two thousand Turkish infantry, and experience has taught us how they can fight. Our canny colonel will never let us be taken by surprise.

      Besides the circle of redoubts we are building around the oasis, we have dismounted outposts all around, especially at night. A strong post three miles out on top of 383. By day, they can helio to the invisible 6th and 7th Regiments out at Romani and miles away back to our rear to the Hill 70 infantry garrison near the Suez Canal. By night, a ground telephone-line connects from the outposts to the regiment. And as an encircling chain, with each link silently alert, in likely dongas, wherever the enemy would most likely crawl to the attack, await our Cossack posts, grim hands ready to fight and give the alarm on the instant—then fly should the case demand.

      May 5th—German taubes are a dammed nuisance. Almost daily they drone over the oasis, seeking a target to lay eggs. Our outpost on 383 generally see them miles away with their glasses. They ring up the regiment and instantly the oasis springs to life. Every man rushes his horse, leaps on and gallops straight out into the desert in a thundering scatter of six hundred horses. The taubes have never surprised us yet. They haven’t scored a single casualty. And, a curious fact, they can’t see us when we remain perfectly still. We have proved this from experience and captured orders. It is a curiously triumphant feeling, a feeling with a delicious little scornful thrill, holding your horse motionless and gazing up at the ominous metalled bird flying so low that you can distinctly see the hooded heads of pilot and observer gazing down, and yet though hundreds of men are watching them they can’t see a single thing on which to loose their bombs—so long as we remain scattered and still. So much for the aeroplane—modern vulture of war beaten by the instinct of ground things.

      May 6th—We are getting quite decent tucker here. Nothing like private life of course—but still quite a number of grateful changes from the steel-hard biscuits and bully-beef. ... They found the bodies of three hundred more Yeomanry lying around Katia. Hope the report is incorrect, but am afraid now it is not. We heard of it a week ago and it has not been contradicted.