By Colonel J. W. Springthorpe.
I am very glad to get back, although I hope it is only for a very short time, as I propose to return again as quickly as I can . A year of war is naturally a very strenuous time.
You cram into it as much as 25 ordinary years. If you regard life as the unknown quantity, life at the war is xn, where n may be anything from nothing to infinity.
The part played by Australia in this war has been pheno- menal. It has probably placed Australia in a position it otherwise would not have gained in loo years, and, in the opinion of some of the leading English newspapers, it has had such an effect outside that it is regarded as "the hope and inspiration of the Empire." This, of course, is tall talk, but there is a good deal of basis for it.
The part played by the Medical Profession, although not so strenuous, take it all round, has not been unworthy of Australia. The distinctive unit with which Melbourne was particularly concerned—No. i General Hospital—had_ its effectiveness minimised most unfortunately through internal dissensions, for which two men were recalled at the request of the War Office. The individual work of many men was magnificent, but unfortunately, owing to conditions which there is no need to enter into here, they were very frequently square pegs in round holes, that is, they were not always placed in positions in which their special qualifications were indicated.
No. I spent the whole of its time in Egypt, in the Heliopolis Palace and surrounding Hospitals. A number of its members left it for special service, including Colonels Syme and Maudsley. Colonel Syme was Chief Surgeon on the Hospital Ship "Gascon," until he was invalided to England owing to a Poisoned arm. Colonel Maudsley worked on in charge of the medical side at Heliopolis until the end of the summer, when he also left for England. He came back towards the end of the year, and is now acting in the capacity of a consulting phy- sician to the Forces. Major Summons has done the work of the Senior Physician ever since Colonel Maudsley's departure, and has done a large amount of excellent work. Captain Tait has been acting as Registrar in the most satisfactory way.
his Dunhill had the misfortune to be taken ill soon after his arrival, and was invalided to London, and there did a large amount of surgical work prior to his return. Major Argyle, after acting as Skiagraphist for some months, was transferred
to a similar position at No. 2 Hospital, and did splendid work in both capacities. He has recently returned to Egypt after a trip to Australia. Captain B. Sutherland is at present in charge of one of the Auxiliary Hospitals, which he and some others think equal to any at the present time. Captain Turn- bull, after some months' work at Heliopolis, was placed in charge of a Convalescent Home at Alexandria, where he had a great deal of work to do, and, after a short absence on the grounds of health, has returned to the Hospital. The other Victorian members of General Hospitals, Captains McLaren, Embleton, Lieutenant Norris, and myself were attached to No. 2 Hospital at Mena, and subsequently at Ghezireh, where there was plenty of work to do, especially at the start, and on the different occasions of trouble on the Peninsula. Captain McLaren has for some time past been in charge of a Convales- cent Home at Alexandria, which he has looked after in a most satisfactory manner. Captain Embleton, after plenty of good work, volunteered for the front. Many other Victorian medical men went out into more strenuous positions nearer the front. Those at Lemnos soon suffered more or less from one or other form of infectious disease, and those, of course, who were at Anzac had a more troublous time still. Nearly all these men have been invalided or deserve to be invalided, and, unfortunately, a few of them have been killed. All of them have done. magnificent work, although much hampered by lack of a great many things which they very much needed.
Special reference perhaps may be made to those who were in the Clearing Hospital at Anzac itself, including Major (now Lieutenant-Colonel) Gordon, Captain J. A. O'Brien, and Cap- tain Campbell, the latter of whom had the misfortune to be shot on the beach. Right alongside these must be placed the men who acted the Regimental Medical Officers.
Major McKnight.
Captain Whitford.
Captain Lewers, who had the misfortune to be shot in the arm.
Captain Lind, who also was injured.
Captain Black.
Captain H. E. Jackson.
Quite as hazardous, and as good, work was done by the members of the Field Ambulance, amongst whom may be mentioned:—
Lieutenant-Colonel Sturdee.
Major Hearne.
32 THE SPECULUM. May, 1916.
Captain C. G. Shaw.
Captain Hurley.
Captain Balcombe Quick.
Captain R. W. Chambers.
Captain Wilson.
Captain Honley.
and Captains Mathieson and Miller Johnston, the death of whom has been universally deplored. Captain Hurley's work has been since recognised by his promotion to the staff of our new Surgeon-General House.
Lt. Col. Victor Hurley.
In addition, of course, there was a number of medical students and others who did magnificent work in the ranks, both in the Field Ambulance and in the firing line. Almost every one of these men came back more or less disabled and to some extent invalided, though not permanently. Our Medi- cal School can very well be proud of the work that they have done.
The work in the past has been very strenuous, and per- formed under exceptional difficulties. I have good reasons for believing that these days of extraordinary stress are at an end, and that their future work will thus meet with even better re- sults, and certainly it deserves it.
The whole situation has been extraordinary, and at the present time cannot be criticised, beyond saying that we hope better things now that we have more control and initiative in
34 THE SPECULUM. May, 1916.
our own hands. A thing that may strike many is the fact that practically everyone that can wants to get back. This proves there is a good deal more in the work than would be suggested simply from the difficulties and dangers. There is not only the satisfaction of being able to perform extraordinary service, but there are all sorts of other matters of interest and adven- ture and innumerable other good motives everlastingly bound up
in the work. I have no hesitation in saying that a year of war is the best discipline for practically any individual who is fortunate enough to be in a position to have it. It will bring out more of the good that is in him than anything else that I know, and if it brings out more of the bad, the sooner it is out the better. At the same time, it is a mistake, in my opinion, for senior students to think of going out until they are quali- fied. They will not only be put to tasks for which they have no special fitness, but they will gain no experience in the direc- tion in which they desire. It is probably different in the case of junior students, who are not under 20 years, and who can afford to lose a year or so of their course. They, however, of course have no special fitness for the medical service, al- though they may be a little more suited for the Field Ambul- ance than the average individual, but if they feel a call to fight, and the surroundings permit of it, the general advantages of a year of war, as well as the fact that they are serving their country at a supreme crisis, should certainly be remembered.
Of the work of the rank and file nothing too good can be said. Even those who knew Australia best had no idea they would come out of this conflict in such a magnificent manner.
To my mind, there are only two things that can account for it.
One was the composition of the Forces, and the other was their view of the situation. As regards the former, they included the pick of Australia—the finest men from the back- blocks of Queensland down to the Snowy River or across to Kalgoorlie, with a sufficient stiffening of Public School boys, sons of squatters and professional men, and the best young fellows in and around cities. It is doubtful if there has ever been any army of an equal possibility. These fellows had prac- tically no previous experience of war, but their physique was magnificent, and practically none of them knew what it was to be afraid. They had read of the battle of Mons, and gathered from that account what a frightful thing modern war was. All of a sudden they are plunged into a situation, to which the battle of Mons, according to good judges, was nothing but a circumstance. This they considered as the normal condition, although it was a complete practical surprise to them,
and, being in it, they could not get out of it, and what they did was what such an army would do in such circumstances.
Any few little errors on the part of a few individual men, under conditions which should have been foreseen and prevented,
are like simple spots on the sun compared with what they
have done. To crown it all, they are unconscious that they are so good. I have never heard them complain. I have never heard them boast.
MY ENGLISH EXPERIENCE.
Being a member of that famous band of robbers, the A.M.C., I unfortunately had a somewhat pathological outlook, and when the six-bob-a-day tourists eventually extended their trip from Egypt on to England, I seemed to have landed in in a country enveloped in an epidemic. Prophylaxis against the attack took the form of a patrol of destroyers from Malta to the Channel. Each man was served with a life belt, which very few, if any, knew how to put on properly, and the more timid used as pillows on the deck. Every now and then some ardent observer would be positive he saw the fatal periscope—
but, in the language of the A.I.F., that was B
By the Grace of God, as much as by anything else, I supL- pose, we landed at Plymouth—a very sick Plymouth—excretL.
mg the little irritating Khaki elements as hard as it could go.
III
I.
36 THE SPECULUM. May, 1916.
Huge boats, that in times of peace and content were the last word in transatlantic elegance, were taking out whole divi- sions—ten thousand men. From other docks came a continuous rattle of rivets as the holes in the Dardanelles Fleet were being obliterated. Hidden away in another corner was the body of the biggest battleship conceived—a bigger sister to the
"Lizzie." It is only when they are seen in dry dock that it is possible to realise their mass of metal.
After months of the glare of Egypt, the grey of London comes like a boracic eye bath.
London is—London, that's about all. At present, there is a marked polychromatic reaction. Belgian soldiers in their blue tunics and yellow breeches ; French in their anachronous flaring red pants and long blue coats ; the Tommy in his rough Khaki, and the Australian in, well, in anything he can lay his hands on.
The Australian soldier is fast becoming one of the sights of London. The English people have never seen or heard any- thing quite like him before. No other troops wear the soft felt hat of the Australians. No other' soldiers ride everywhere in taxies as they do. Never before had the decorum of Rotten Row been broken by anything more rapid than a slow trot, till the Australians held races round Hyde Park. No other soldiers stare officers in the face and pass on. It is a common sight down Oxford Street or the Strand to see an Australia suddenly stand up and from the top of his bus, yell "Saida" to a cobber on the footpath. Nothing quite like them has been seen in London before.
We came across more of the North British Tommies, the Lancashires with their blue eyes and funny undulating drawl, and they are a somewhat undersized, weedy lot of men phy- sically. Bar, of course, the permanent old garrison Tommy, the shrewdest 'ead of the lot, they do seem a stolid, uninitiative tribe. Somehow you expect a Tommy to take any sort of treatment you like to give him, and thank you for it—he seems ground down to it by years and centuries of tradition of servility.
Quarter-Masters can make fortunes out of Tommies, but the Australian knows to an ounce how much he is entitled to, and, if he doesn't get it, he kicks up hell. The first time Aus- tralians kicked up hell, they nearly burned Cairo down. The battle of the Wazza is world famous. It's a strange quality, but no other troops seem to have it.
The people in England find them an amusing novelty, and
take them up, while their own Tommies are treated just as Tommies. It must hurt them a. wee bit.
No town is immune from Australians, you meet them everywhere; Glasgow and Edinburgh seem full of them.
A 'bus driver told me that the present London doesn't look very different to an ordinary annual peace mobilisation, but the posters give the lie. Anywhere and everywhere are recruiting posters—some good, some cheap. Each of the huge Landseer Lions at the foot of Nelson's statue holds by a rope in his teeth one of those inducements with which we aie all familiar. Each day at noon from the platform between the lions, enthusiastic 'eads roar themselves hoarse with inaudible encouragement. Down in the city the always congested traffic is slowed by the popular interest in a man who has been "over there," mounted on a candle box. No, I've never seen it, but peace-time London cannot be like this.
In the country, all over the fair green skin of England, the pustules have broken out in the shape of concentration Camps.
There is a large one down at St. Albans; thousands of men tramp along the old Roman Roads. Constantly thinning in the centre as each camp sends away its substance—how like it is to a Gumma, the Prof's old favourite.
But at night in London the exacerbations are worse—dull, dark, and dreary, about one in every six street lamps alight, and that one glowing with the fierceness of a damp match. Even way down Piccadilly, down by the park, dark and dull. Well, no! perhaps Piccadilly could never be dull.
The one relieving bright spot is the gleam of the search- lights after Zeps. All night long, from all over London, sweep the long white beams of light—what great guides they must be to the hunters. There is always an unconscious knowledge of Zeps. coming, and in September, while we were in London, they were good enough to pay us a visit. The first thing we heard was two loud explosions, followed by a pause. Every- body, regardless of Admiralty advice, dashed into the streets to have a look, and the bursting shrapnel from the guns, well underneath the thin grey shapes, made a pretty little side-show.
Then came three more bombs, a few more shrapnel, and flip, as if the man turned the film off, it was all over. It only lasted about 20 minutes, but over a hundred people were killed. The awkwardness is, that if by any chance a shell hit a Zep. the whole box of tricks would be deposited—a huge bag of gas and Probably hundreds of bombs. So they dare do nothing but
38 THE SPECULUM May, 191n.
drive them off. Two days later the papers say it was reported that the Zeppelins had visited the East Coast.
Indeed the, war dogs are chewing at their very pluck.
"zoI."