SOME SOUVENIR
(AN AUSTRALIAN TROOPER WITH GERMAN HELMET)
By James McBey. British Official Artist
The Camel Brigade
There are, maybe, ten thousand Australians who will never see a map of Egypt or Palestine, never hear of the Great War, never sing or listen to a Christmas Carol, and, perhaps, never even boil a billy, without thinking of camels.
Nor is it altogether surprising; for camels played so prominent a part in their lives in the days of Armageddon. They lived on camels; they always slept near, and often on camels; and camels carried their tucker, their water, their clothes, their blankets. The last thing they saw as they fell asleep at night was a string of long-necked camels silhouetted against the bare horizon. The first thing they heard after reveille was the raucous noise of a camel lifting up its voice in the wilderness. Nothing but camel, day and night, from the Senussi stunt to the Jerusalem-Jericho-Jordan scrapping.
None of us really liked our camels. Frankly, most of us loathed them. They were a necessary evil. In a desert campaign they were indispensable: so they were tolerated. But for many, many months the Cameleers cursed them without ceasing for the vilest, stupidest, craziest beasts that ever cumbered the earth.
Then, suddenly—it was about midsummer, 1918—we began to realize some of the many virtues of the much-maligned camel. We remembered that even on the scorching sands of Sinai, we were rarely short of water. We reminded each other that, while Light Horsemen shivered on the freezing Judean Hills, we snuggled cosily ’neath a bivvy and four blankets. We thought of all the little extra canteen delicacies we had carried in our capacious saddle-bags. And we talked about the good times we had at the camel sports with Horace, and Mange Dressing and Starlight.
The reason for this volte-face, this sudden revulsion of feeling in favour of the camel, lay in the fact that our camels were to be taken away from us. We were to be transformed into cavalry for that Big Push which we hoped would result in the smashing of the Turkish Army. And remembering the comparative luxury of the Cameleer’s life, we tried to make the amende honorable and say kind things of and to our old hooshtas.