Evan's Gallipoli (18 page)
Cape Town. It's a big city with a mountain above it. The soldiers were allowed ashore in small parties with an officer. They say that they can't get into trouble because they have no money. That's never stopped them before. The ship seems strange with so few people on it. Father and I went ashore to have a look at Cape Town. A fine prosperous place. No marks of war. Palm trees. Black people. We had lunch at a hotel and they had fruit salad made with pineapple and banana and Father said that God was good. We arranged to visit a cousin of Father's who came to get us and has a large shady house with a verandah and a lot of servants. He offered us a bath. I was so pleased. A hot bath with soap. I washed myself and my hair and my garments and changed into fresh trousers and shirt. Father's cousin was a little surprised when I returned with my wet washing and he offered to have his houseboy hang them out to dry. I am not used to civilisation, apparently.
Hot today. We went back to the ship and found that the soldiers were also returning. I watched them from the deck. They had probably got into bad company and drunk lots of bad liquor but they were back. They streamed up the gangplank. Some of them were carrying the others but the man at the head of the line counted them all in and we only lost a couple of sailors, no soldiers at all. Then we set sail again. They really are honourable men. God bless them. I heard the big engines start up and saw the hawsers cast off. Now we have nothing but ocean until we get to Albany, and Albany is in Australia. Sometimes I thought I'd never see my home again.
I raided the ship's shop again. The nurses were there. I am looking for a New Year's present for my father. The QM is grumpy as usual. He hasn't anything suitable for a vegetarian who does not drink. I finally got a little booklet about the Holy Land. I have no idea how it came to be there. We used to go to Aunt Euphie's every year to have New Year dinner. Kyrie Nic is delighted to have a storeroom full of fruit and veg from Cape Town. He says the officers will have salads and like them. He gave me a mango, the first mango I have tasted for a long time. I dripped juice all over my clean shirt.
New Year's Eve but no trouble because the troops are still a bit seasick. They stayed up until midnight to welcome in 1916 and drank their beer and then went back to their bunks. So did I.
A terrible to-do in the kitchen. I was summoned to translate because Kyrie Nic's English, which is not very extensive, deserted him. It seems that William the wombat, who resides with the officers, had scented carrots. They are his favourite food. He had trundled into the cool store and eaten lots of them. Kyrie Nic was furious. I rescued William as he sat knee deep in carrot tops just as the cook reached for his carving knife. I had to hustle William back to the officers' quarters in a hurry and as he is big and strong and really wanted to stay with his carrots, this was difficult. In the end I had to drag him and he fought me all the way, leaving clawtracks in the linoleum.
William was the pet of an officer in the Light Horse and they are being sent to Cairo where it is thought that the desert climate would not agree with him, so he is being repatriated. He sleeps quite nicely in the lower bunk and Major Hanks says he is a brave fellow and can live out his life on his family property in Sherbrooke. Major Hanks says he will confine William to quarters but as far as he was concerned he was welcome to his carrots as the major doesn't like carrots above half, anyway.
I went back to soothe Kyrie Nic. He said that having dogs and cats on a ship was bad enough but what sort of heathen animal was that? I suppose wombats are a bit of a surprise if you aren't used to them.
News of Gallipoli in the newspapers we got in Cape Town. They withdrew the last troops on the seventh of December. Everyone is sad. Bluey said, âBut we were the originals,' and got a cheer. They suffered such torment on those cliffs. And now they do not want to leave. I will never understand war.
I gave Father the book on the Holy Land. He said that we ought to go there. My heart sank. But we can't make any plans because Father's mission is now in Australia. Thank God. Now we are not in danger I have more time to think. I really would have killed Manfred Schmidt, if it hadn't been for Major Western. I can't see what else I could have done. It's a puzzle. I found a book on the Crusades. I shall read it instead of worrying. I already know I am a miserable sinner. No news there.
Troops had a good dinner and their bottle of beer even though it isn't even Saturday. They weren't very merry, though. They are all thinking of what awaits them when they get home. Most of them were workers, and how can they work with only one hand or one leg? What will become of them? God only knows. The office workers will be all right. You don't have to stand up to check books and tot up figures. But what will become of carpenters and masons and wharfies? The nurses put on a concert where they sang very sweetly and the first officer put on a magic show. He was really good. I have mistaken that man. Major Hanks brought out William and the troops cheered him. William blinked and ate carrots. He's a very calm wombat.
This book on the Crusades is very detailed and it's awful. Christians massacring Muslims. Muslims massacring Christians. I shall take it back and read more Edgar Wallace.
Nothing but ocean wherever we look. All quiet in the kitchen. We spoke to a freighter who told us that there was bad weather coming. We are making south to avoid it.
Very high seas. Can't write because page is jumping around.
The first officer says we are in the tail end of a cyclone but no need to worry. Everyone is sick. Even me. It seems safer to stay in my bunk where I can't stumble and fall over.
The weather has eased a little. I went on deck and met the nurses. They are very nervous because they were shipwrecked once before, though they were torpedoed last time. This is not the same. Sister May told me that it made little difference who was trying to kill her, the Germans or God, she'd be just as dead. But there were patients to care for so they just had a look at the sky, very black and dangerous, and went back to the hospital deck. I stayed on deck. I saw a line of dolphins leaping alongside us. They were beautiful. The watch sailor standing next to me said that they were a good omen, whereas the flock of white birds that came in yesterday were not. They were Mother Carey's Chickens and portents of a storm. They've flown off now.
Foolish people in Australia said that the war would be over by Christmas. Well, it isn't. It probably won't end until all the nations of the world have maimed, killed and mutilated all their young men. I am feeling grumpy, for some reason.
William got out again but this time Kyrie Nic sat on the floor and fed him carrots. He says William is a
pallikari
. William was happy to be patted as long as the carrots kept coming. Major Hanks came looking for him. We had a nice chat about Australia. He was shot in the chest at the Nek and now has a piece of shrapnel so near his heart that he has to leave the army. He says he is looking forward to taking William to Sherbrooke, where there are other wombats and he will be happy. I promised to try to visit him.
Getting warm. I washed my clothes. They dried fast. Father is writing all day. He says he is writing a book about the war to tell the Australian people how terrible it is. But he spends a lot of time staring out the porthole at the sea. I have found two new Edgar Wallaces and a Robert Louis Stevenson called
Travels with a Donkey, in the Cévennes
. I visited the troops. They are engaged in betting on beetle races. They have set it up really well. Each beetle is marked with a dab of different-coloured paint and they have a tote and a marked racecourse and a race caller. This is Bluey, with Curly to advise him. Even though Bluey can't see he manages very well. They get very excited about it.
The first officer says we will arrive in Albany on the twelfth, time and tide being willing. This is a sailor way of saying âinsha' Allah'. I want to go home so badly I can taste it.
But what shall I do when we do get home? Father is talking of staying in Melbourne, at the family home in Kew, and sending me to boarding school. I do not want to go to school at all, much less boarding school. I will not go to boarding school. I know an awful lot about surviving, now. They can't make me. If they do, they can't keep me. The roads in Australia can't be as bad as those in Thrace.
I spoke to Father about boarding school. He seems to think it is a good idea. I told him that I would not do it. He was surprised. He told me that a parent is akin to God in authority and that I would have to do as I was told. I said that he was being unjust. I told him that I had led him across desolation and war to safety and he had never even thanked me and I was not going to be packed away like a box to be left until called for. Then I went and watched beetle races with the soldiers. I didn't tell Father I had almost killed a man for him.
Father is angry with me. And I am angry with him. How dare he just dispose of me like that? I will not accept it. The nurses noticed that something was wrong. They told me that I ought to try to reason with my father, and be nice and gentle with him. I'm too cross to be gentle. The nurses said that I didn't want to drive him into madness again. Sister Lucas must have told them about him. So I won't argue with him any more. But I am not going to boarding school.
Father talked to me about school again. He said that he would be very busy writing his book and talking at meetings in the cause of peace and there was no one to spare to look after me. I told him that I had survived for months on the road in wars with soldiers and bandits and a madman to protect and I did not need looking after. He blinked at that. Then he told me he had to pray about this. I went back to the beetle races. The best beetle belongs to a man called Dusty. The soldiers suspect him of feeding his beetle beer. I don't think beer would be good for a beetle. When I said so they told me that beer was good for man and beast.
Father has said nothing more about this boarding-school plan. But he has a point. What do I want to be? A lawyer? A doctor? A salesman, like Father? I will have to go to school if I want to qualify for anything. And I need to have an occupation. What am I good at? Languages. I can speak Greek and Turkish and French and some German, though I can't read or write Turkish. Perhaps I could study languages? Which means I would have to go to school and then university. But not boarding school. I now have a horror of being shut in. Had nightmares again last night.
Father is still praying about my future. I suppose we can't go back to our old life, seeing what we have seen. But I liked it. I wonder how Diligence our donkey is faring? I dreamt about Simpson and Murph. Both of them gone in one burst of shell fire. When I woke my pillow was wet with tears.
We will be coming into Albany in two days. The soldiers are washing their clothes. There is a great cleaning of boots, and a lot of yelling about who had the blacking last. They want to look presentable for the people. And they are, as Bluey said, cripples and crocks. They left young and strong and they come back wrecked and ruined. Father is right about war. It is an abomination before the Lord. I contrived an acceptable substitute for webbing-belt whiting out of toothpaste and talcum powder. It smells of Night in Paris but it's very white.
The QM was wondering aloud where the last box of talcum powder had gone. I said that I had taken it and he winked and said that my young lady would be pleased.
I was summoned by Sister May to sit with a young soldier called Oliver. Now that we are actually coming home, he is terrified. What will his parents and his young lady think of him, now that he is feeble and crippled? Will they want him back? Sister told him to buck up but it did no good and now she is worried about him. I sat with him until lunch and helped him eat his bully beef, for which he had no appetite. That is not surprising. I tried to get him to talk about where he came from and the girl who is waiting for him but he was on the verge of tears. Bluey and Curly came in to keep him company later. Dr Leonard has prescribed a tonic for him but he won't take it.
I went back later and found him much cheered. Father had been there, talking about heaven. Curly wanted to know if he got his arm back after death and Bluey told him of course, he'd need both hands for his pitchfork, so it doesn't sound like he thinks heaven is Curly's destination. Anyway, Private Oliver seemed better and I left him with them.
LATER Private Oliver is lost. He left a letter saying that he couldn't bear to show his scarred face to his girl. Everyone has been searching but he isn't on the ship. He must have jumped overboard in the dark. Sister is upset and angry with him. The troops are very sad and subdued.
Albany, and it is so good to see land. One sister, who is to leave us here because she comes from Perth, went down on her knees and kissed the ground. âAustralia, I'll never leave you again,' she said. Some of the other nurses thought that she was showing off but I know just how she feels.
We unloaded a few men and a lot of freight here. The troops went out to get into trouble as usual but Albany is a small place surrounded by forests and it is rather clean and has only a few pubs. The people who met the ship saw the men coming down the gangplank and were shocked. You could see it in their faces. The men saw it too. I hope someone buys them a drink, poor fellows. I went ashore and walked into the bush behind the port. It smells of eucalyptus and heat. I was so overcome that I embraced a tree. Then I picked some leaves to give to William to tell him that he too was home.