pack on his back,"
growled Doolan.

"Ay, an' these damnt moskeetes are ay chowin' ma face off," said Sandy.

"Couldn't we have been trained in Australia instead of this confounded
hole?" added Bill, who was in a nasty mood that day.

"Too many pubs, too many ma's, and too many politicians about for
that," Claud answered. "Besides, Kitchener's a smart fellow. He knows
his job. We're here to keep these bally niggers in order, and, at the
same time, train for war. You can't push it on to 'K'; he's too mighty
quick for you an' me."

"But when the blazes are we goin' to the war? I'm thirstin' to cut
some fellow's throat, but all I gets is march and sweat--sweat and
march--and fourteen days C.B. if I look sideways at these officer
blokes. No good to me, boys. I'm here for killin', not for road
punchin'. I've got a head like a barrel and feet like boiled tomatoes."

"Ye shouldna' drink beer," piped Sandy.

"Wot should I drink then?"

"Proosic acid," Doolan muttered, giving Claud a nudge.

"You've got a bad liver to-day, Bill. I think you've been drinking the
Gippies' firewater. I thought the old parson had got you to sign the
pledge."

"Who could sign the pledge in an 'ole like this? It's sand and flies,
flies and sand, C.B., bully beef, jam, and No. 9 pills. Wot a life!"
concluded Bill, relapsing into silence. They left him alone. It was
Bill's "off day." He would come round again.

Bill's attitude at that period of the war represented the feelings of
many a Tommy in the Australian and New Zealand forces. These men,
accustomed to the life of freedom, action, and the daily use of
initiative, cursed the seemingly endless days of drill, shooting,
marching, manoeuvring, with the firm discipline and immediate
punishment when rules were ignored. Eight long months of this was
their lot, and during that time there seemed little prospect of their
seeing war. It was a hard test.

To them it seemed a cruel test. The younger and more inexperienced
thought it useless and a waste of time, but the officers understood the
reason why. It was Kitchener's way. "K" knew that these men were the
finest fighters in the world. But to get the fullest value for their
courage he realised that training and discipline, discipline,
discipline was absolutely essential. Every officer of the General
Staff expected them to curse and kick. The Staff also assumed that, in
the end, the Australians' true sense of justice woul