The Other Side of the Trench. G. S. Willmott
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you wanna go in and give it a burl, mate?’
‘Why not?
Both Dave and Harry took a spot on some big fluffy cushions; the Arab who ran the show introduced himself as Ammon. ‘Would you like some coffee and a Shisha?’
‘What the bloody hell is a Shisha, mate?’ Dave asked.
‘It is a water pipe See everyone has one. You will like it, very relaxing.’
‘Bloody hell mate, I could do with a bit of relaxing with what we have been through lately. ‘It’s not gonna cost us an arm and a leg is it, Ammon?’
‘Excuse me, Sir?’ Ammon was confused. ‘I don’t want your arm or leg, just a pound each’
They both laughed. ‘It’s just an expression we use in Australia meaning expensive’ ‘Oh I see’, said Ammon starting to become impatient ‘Well, would you like a coffee and Shisha?’
‘Yeah why not. You only live once don’t you?’
Ammon departed and came back fifteen minutes later with two very exotic Shishas.
‘I have selected a very fragrant tobacco for you, said Ammon ‘it is mixed with strawberries, apple and grapes. I am sure you will enjoy it. I will bring your coffee shortly so relax and enjoy the dancer and your Shisha.’ ‘If the boys down the footy club could see us now’
Dave broke up laughing and agreed.
As they smoked their special blend and sipped the coffee that Ammon had brought them they really did feel relaxed. The belly dancer was quite pretty but quite chubby; she danced in front of them, shaking all the flesh she could, smiling the whole time.
Harry’s thoughts went back to Emma in Melbourne and how he missed her and could not wait to get back and marry her, have a family and live a happy life. At the same time he was looking forward to the great adventure that lay in front of him.
After about an hour Harry and Dave decided to move on and find somewhere they could have a drink. They found a very rowdy bar full of ANZACs and Tommies. They ordered a couple of beers and started to chat with the other Diggers and a couple of Poms.
Things were going very nicely until a pompous Pommie Captain walked in with a couple of Military Police and closed down the bar for the night. Dave couldn’t help himself.
‘You Pommy bastards are always trying to ruin our fun.’ Dave shouted ‘You can’t play cricket and you can’t play football and you can’t fight either.’
Dave then turned on his heels and bolted out of the bar running down laneways and ducking under awnings with the two policemen giving chase. He finally lost them in the night market. He then tried to find his way back to Mena without being sprung. He sneaked in around midnight and lay down on his stretcher. Harry had been back for nearly two hours.
’Geez mate, you were lucky they did not throw you in the clink.’
’They would have had to catch me first, they were too bloody slow.’
The next day while Harry was resting in his tent after the big night out in Cairo another mate, Bill Hawkins, called out to him
‘Harry, you have a young bloke who says he knows you. Will I send him in?’ ‘Who is it?’ ‘Well that’s the funny thing. He says his name is Harry Daniel’
Harry sat up on his stretcher ‘There is only one other Harry Daniel I know of, and he’s me nephew. It can’t be him, he’s too young to enlist.’
‘Well what do I do with him Harry?’
‘Hold on I’ll come out.’
Harry gingerly got up and walked out to see whom the impostor was. ‘Hello Uncle Harry’ said the slightly built young man. ‘Bloody hell what are you doing here?’
‘Same reason you’re here Uncle Harry to fight for King and country.’
‘But you’re only a kid. How old are you now?’ ‘Well, my enrolment papers say I am eighteen.’ ‘Bullshit, you’re about fifteen from memory’
‘Uncle Harry please, an officer might hear you. Young Harry spoke in a hushed voice ‘I am seventeen but was sixteen when I enlisted. Dad signed my papers so I am O.K. Don’t worry.’ ‘Don’t bloody worry!’
‘I have just got back from that hell hole, Gallipoli. Four months of hell, so if I can survive that, and I can tell you lots of my mates didn’t, I can survive anything.’
Harry ushered young Harry into his tent. ‘What battalion are you in kid?’
‘I was in the 10th but just got transferred to the 59th. How about you?’ ‘The 5th’ grunted Harry senior’.
‘Have you got any idea where they are sending you next and when?’
‘Not a bloody clue, Uncle Harry. I did hear a rumour that we are moving out soon.’ ‘Alright, you keep me posted’. ‘I will write to your Mum and Dad and let them know we caught up and you are safe and well.’ ‘I did write a few letters from Gallipoli and I sent them a couple of post cards of the pyramids and the sphinx with a few words.’
Gallipoli
Chapter 6
1915
‘Tell me what Gallipoli was really like, Harry, I have heard a few stories that would make the hairs on your neck stand up.’
‘Well Uncle Harry it really was hell on earth. I suppose I should start when we landed at the wrong beach…’ ‘You’re kidding me who fucked up?’
‘Don’t know most of us believe the Pommie Generals did, although they blamed it on the currents.’ ‘So it was pretty rough?’
‘Bloody oath. First they brought us in on war ships which were meant to give us protection. They then told us in hushed tones to climb down the ladders and into the wooden landing boats. That was a bloody trick itself climbing down a rope ladder with a full pack, including a spade and your rifle slung over your shoulder. Anyway I made it to the boat and squeezed in next to me good mate Frankie Lowe. We are just about to push off when I heard one of the officers.’
‘Oh my God they have taken us to the wrong beach. They will be slaughtered.’ Frankie looked at me muttering ‘I bloody hope not.’
It was still dark when they started towing us to the beach; it was bloody freezing but we were not allowed to wear our great coats, which were in our packs.
The trip to the beach felt like hours but was only forty minutes. The officers told us that Abduls bullets sounded like little birds as they whizzed past us.
It was staring to lighten up and the sea shimmered in the half-light. I heard what I thought was a shot, then another one
‘I think they have spotted us Frankie.’
‘Yeah, it all starts now Harry.’
‘Just then, the few angry shots turned into mayhem; the sky was alight with a huge fireworks display except this wasn’t Guy Fawke’s day. These bastards were serious. Most of the blokes did not show any fear and thumbed their noses at Abdul until a few of them slumped in the boat with blood oozing from their wounds. I said to Frankie ‘If this is what little birds sound like I’ll be fucked.’ He didn’t answer and when I turned to look at him and half his head had gone.’
‘Fucking hell, Frankie why didn’t you have your stupid head down, bloody hell?’
The officer on board told us: ‘Make a landing where you can, lads, and hold on!’
They were using leather megaphones attached to their wrists because no body could hear them over the sound of firing.’ The tows cast off and we were on our own. Those blokes