When asked how he got on when torpedoed on the way home, all we learnt from him was, “It was very wet.”
Then there is the oft quoted, “What are you complaining about? It’s only another five miles, and you’ve cocoa for your tea!”
Mac Lindsay,[14] the stock-whip expert and jack-of-all-trades, confessed to only one ambition in life—to dress —— in a little red jacket and fez and lead him round on a chain! The report that he made a Ford car out of bully-beef tins has, I understand, been officially denied.
Just a week before the Armistice we lost Colthart, the best quartermaster in the Army, and one of the best of fellows. He had a wonderful “way with him,” and could get for us all sorts of stores, etc., which other quartermasters were unable to get. He was with us all the time, and never missed a “show.”
Colthart once “took pity” on a stray donkey in Palestine. Government oats soon made a tremendous difference, and the donkey was sold at Yalo for, I think, £11. Unfortunately, the previous owner met the new purchaser with the donkey, and all explanations being unavailing, a court of enquiry was the result, to which witnesses seemed to come from all over Palestine. Eventually, the donkey was returned to its previous owner, and all parties satisfied—except the donkey.
Dick Wood and Harry Fraser were two of the best we got from the Black Watch. Dick Wood looked benevolent enough behind his spectacles, but in a scrap his lust for blood was insatiable. Harry’s penchant was stalking Bosche machine gun posts. Unfortunately, he got it badly in the neck just as success was at hand, and was away from us till about the Armistice.
He and the other Harry (Adamson) looked after the transport lines. Arizona told Harry Adamson to take his platoon forward and see if the Bosche were still holding their trenches on the Lys Sector. “Hairy’s” method was typical of the man. Thinking it might be a “dirty” job, “Hairy” left his platoon under cover and went on himself. Having failed to find any Bosche in their trenches, he got up on the parapet and waved to his platoon to come on!
Of the N.C.O.’s and men it is possible only to mention a few.
I always associate S.M. Alec. Ogilvie with Hogsthorpe at early morning stand-to going round the lines, abusing everyone for making a noise, and himself making as much noise as all the rest of us put together. He was the life and soul of C Squadron. Heaven knows what C would have done without him on the Peninsula. He and Edie and M’Laren, our three squadron sergeant-majors, were a very strong trio. Edie was an example to all of us—however tired he might be himself he never thought of resting till he was satisfied his men were all right.
One man, I know, will never forget Sergeant Craig (he was made R.Q.M.S. just a few days before his death on Suvla). Craig found lice “doing squaderron drrrill up his legs,” and he was pegged out in an outhouse till his clothes were fumigated.