David Barker
FURPHY
It was the colonel who propounded the theory first, on hearing some rumour more optimistic than reliable. “These furphies[11] are the very devil,” he said.
Now, I had a theory about Furphy. I was waiting for an opportunity of following it up, and it came this way:
I was on the beach one day when a friend met me and asked if I had heard the latest dinkum. On learning that I hadn’t, he informed me that Greece had declared war on Turkey, and was going to land 100,000 men within the next few days on the Peninsula. I inquired for the source, and he said he got it from a fellow who had just gone along the beach towards the left. I asked what the man was like. That sort of puzzled him. He said he was a tall man—no, he thought he was only middle height or perhaps a bit on the small side. His hair was dark—no, now that he thought a bit, he fancied it was fair. In fact, the more he tried to describe him the less could he remember him. “He’s my Moses,” I said, and hurried off in in the direction he had gone.
Passing through the sap to Shrapnel Gully, I met another friend.
“Heard the latest?” he inquired.
I said “No.”
“Four Italian staff officers seen on the beach to-day,” he said breathlessly. “Two hundred thousand Italian troops being sent here.”
“Who told you?” I asked.