ut, a true
and loyal friend, but he had absolutely no "sense of ownership." He
thought that whatever another man possessed he had a right to; but, on
the other hand, any one else had an equal right to appropriate anything
of his (Dan's). He never put forward any theory about it, but would
just help himself to anything he wanted, not troubling to hide it, and
he never made any fuss if some one picked up something of his that was
not in use. I never saw such a practical example of communism. At
first, there were a number of rows about it, but after a while if any
of the boys missed anything they would go and hunt through Dan's kit
for it. The only time he made a fuss at losing anything was when one
of his mates for a lark took his rosary. He soon discovered, by shrewd
questioning, who it was, and there was a fight that landed them both in
the guard-tent. The boys forbore to tease him about his inconsistency
when he said: "It was mother's. She brought it from Ireland." Dan was
still scouting when I was sent out well-punctured, and I doubt if there
are any who have accounted for more of the Potsdam swine single-handed.
His score was known to be over a hundred when I left. If I can get
back again, may I have Dan in my squad! These two are but types of the
boys I lived with so long, and got to love so well. Few of my early
comrades are left on the earth; but we are not separated even from
those who have "gone west," and the war has given to me, in time and
eternity, many real friends.

The following pages are not a history of the Australians. I have no
means of collecting and checking data, but they are an attempt to show
the true nature of the Australian soldier, and sent out with the hope
that they will remind some, in this great American democracy, of the
contribution made by the freemen who live across the ocean of peace
from you to "make the world safe for democracy."

I also have the hope that the stories of personal experience will make
real to you some of the men whose bodies have been for three years part
of that human rampart that has kept your homes from desolation, and
your daughters from violation, and that you will speed in sending them
succor as though the barrier had broken and the bestial Hun were even
now, with lust dominant, smashing at your own door.

[1] _Boys Own Paper_.

[2] "Ben" was the living-room of a Scotch cottage where only intimate
friends were admitted. Ian Maclaren says of