t a rate of pay that
fully satisfied this Greek employer's views on the minimum wage.

DAR-ES-SALAAM

(The Haven of Peace)

This town is indeed a Haven of Peace for our weary soldiers. The only
rest in a really civilised place that they have had after many hundreds
of miles of road and forest and trackless thirsty bush. In the cool
wards of the big South African Hospital many of them enjoy the only rest
that they have known for months. Fever-stricken wrecks are they of the
men that marched so eagerly to Kilimanjaro nine weary months before.
Months of heat and thirst and tiredness, of malaria that left them
burning under trees by the roadside till the questing ambulance could
find them, of dysentery that robbed their nights of sleep, of dust and
flies and savage bush fighting. And now they lie between cool sheets and
watch the sisters as they flit among the shadows of cool, shaded wards.
Only a short three months before and this was the "Kaiserhof," the first
hotel on the East Coast of Africa, as the German manager, with loud
boastfulness, proclaimed.

There had been a time when we doctors, then at Nairobi and living in
comfortable mosquito-proof houses, had blamed the men for drinking
unboiled water and for discarding their mosquito nets. But even doctors
sometimes live and learn, and those of us who went right forward with
the troops came to know how impracticable it was to carry out the Army
Order that bade a man drink only boiled water and sleep beneath a net.
Late in the night the infantryman staggers to the camp that lies among
thorn bushes, hungry and tired and full of fever. How then could one
expect him to put up a mosquito net in the pitch-black darkness in a
country where every tree has got a thorn? Long ago the army's mosquito
nets have adorned the prickly bushes of the waterless deserts. "Tuck
your mosquito net well in at night," so runs the Army Order. But what
does it profit him to tuck in the net when dysentery drags him from his
blanket every hour at night?

From the verandah of the hospital the soldier sees the hospital ship all
lighted up at night with red and green lights, the ship that's going to
take him out of this infernal climate to where the mosquitoes are
uninfected and tsetse flies bite no more. And there are no regrets that
the rainy season is commencing, and this is no longer a campaign for the
white soldier. On the sunlit slopes of Wynberg he will contemplate the
white sands o