I invite your Honour's early attention to this matter, and I request that orders may be given for the Non-Commissioned Officers and men of the Colonial Forces to be released from jail and to be treated, not as criminals, but as prisoners of war.

I also request that the prisoners at Waterval may be provided with overhead shelter, and that the sick and wounded may be properly entertained and taken care of in accordance with Article Six of the Geneva Convention.

MY COMRADES' CONVERSATION.
(ANONYMOUS.)

When I was quite a young recruit, not very long ago,
My comrades' conversation was a talk I didn't know;
I really thought to some far-distant country I'd been shipped
When they said I was a "jowler," and described me as "just nipped."
If I was "slightly dragged," or with my "praco" couldn't cope,
They said I'd "lost my monnicker" and earned an "extra slope,"
And, though I'm known as Ferdinand to all my kin and kith,
They went and dropped my Christian name and called me "Dusty Smith."
They called me "Dusty Smith."

But a soldier's life is the life for me,
And the foe shall ne'er alarm me,
For you won't feel queer on "Drug-hole beer,"
What's called "three-thick" in the Army.

I asked them what my food would be. They said: "Your food? Oh, that's
'Meat,' 'jipper,' 'spuds' and 'rooti,' with occasional 'top-hats.'"
They said I'd find coal-hugging quite a lively little job,
Then they put me "on the timber" and they called me "Junior Swab."
But when my work was over, after "tapping up" a bit,
I'd take my own "square missus" out—you bet we made a hit.
And when I had to go on guard she'd come there every day
To see me marching down the street and hear the "fiddlers" play.
Just to hear the "fiddlers" play.

So a soldier's life is the life for me,
And the foe shall ne'er alarm me,
As I slope my gun in Number One
What's called "Long-Swabs" in the Army.

But now I understand them 'cause I know my way about,
And comprehend the Sergeant's unintelligible shout;
When he says: "Shooldare Hipe!" I know that he means: "Shoulder hup"
So I'm never for "Small-dodgers" and I never got "Built-up."
I'm not a mere "Jam-soldier," I've extended sure enough,
And been made "Assistant-bully" so I help to cook the "Duff."
I keep my kit and rifle clean, so's never to be rushed,
And I've never been "done-tired" and I've never once been "pushed."
No, I've never once been "pushed."

Then a soldier's life is the life for me,
And the foe shall ne'er alarm me,
And soon I shall be Corporal,
What's called "Sauce-Jack" in the Army.