Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Bailey narrative of life aboard an Australian troopship, 22 October-28 December 1918 / Ernest Bailey
MLDOC 1284

[Transcriber’s note: Private Ernest Bailey, English born, enlisted in May 1918 at the age of 36. He left Adelaide on board HMAT A36 "Boonah" on 22 October 1918. The "Boonah" was the last Australian troop ship to leave Fremantle in October 1918. Carrying about 1200 A.I.F. soldiers, the ship arrived in Durban, South Africa, just 3 days before the Armistice was signed and arrangements were made to return home, arriving approximately 20 December 1918. Private Bailey was discharged on 6 January 1919.]

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Life Aboard an Australian Troopship

At Sea
22/10/18 to 28/12/18

To the young recruit who has received his training in an Australian Military Camp, and is ready for embarkation for service overseas, a certain amount of imagination, and dreams of what it will be like on board the troopship, also thoughts of what the life at sea will reveal, will often be uppermost in his mind.

It is to be understood that he has had his Final Leave, and goodbye has already been said to many of his distant friends.

Most young soldiers look forward to life on the ocean wave, with a happy thought, and a sense of anticipated pleasure, knowing that they are to pass from the dreary monotony of the everyday routine of drill and camp life to a period of comparative rest, change, and excitement, together with the fact that they are at least one step nearer their desires and hopes.

One of their first thoughts at this period of their Military life, will be the separation from loved ones, a thought that causes a little heart ache for the moment, but which is quickly dispelled by means of a jest, or by the sense of duty which must prevail at such times. In a jocular way perhaps, seasickness will also be thought of, but this thought too will be quickly disposed of when he considers that "if Johnson can stand it – I can". A grand spirit.

But the time draws near when the imaginary changes to reality, and one day orders are given that Kit Bags are to be packed, and instructions as to what they shall contain are posted for the troops information. They are informed that the Sea Kit Bag should contain rubber shoes, clothes, white hat, towels, shirts, socks, and the necessary articles for toilet use, together with Salt Water soap, and other personal effects. These articles are for the use on the voyage, as the Sea Kit Bag will be placed in a convenient spot easy of access on the troop deck. On the other hand the Universal Kit Bag will contain clothing, and articles which will only be required when the journey overseas is completed. This bag is placed in the hatch below decks, and only available at intervals on the voyage.

The day prior to embarkation at last arrives. The soldier is out of camp as early as possible, and makes for home by the quickest possible way, for the last evening ashore is to be spent with his nearest and dearest. The tea on this occasion is to be a special one (his mother looks after that) and kind friends gather at his home to give him the best send-off possible. After tea they adjourn to the Music Room, and the artists (capable and otherwise) do their best to make happiness and pleasure abound. Games are played, dancing indulged in, and presentations form a special item on the programme. (His sweetheart has already remembered him, and in the quiet of the evening (when two has been company) she has handed him perhaps a nice V.P.K. Camera, or a lovely Pocket Wallet, containing her sweetest photograph.) But his many friends of both sexes have also thought of him, and during the evening, in a few words of farewell, have asked his acceptance of little gifts which become so useful to a soldier "over there". His Mother has also carefully and thoughtfully secured for him, something nice and useful, which perhaps others have failed to think of, but you see – He is her own soldier boy.

The evening has passed quickly, and "Auld Lang Syne" is sung with a lump in many a throat, and a tear in many an eye. Goodnight! and Au Revoir, lad – Good luck, a safe and speedy return, are the wishes from one and all as they pass on homeward.

The day of embarkation dawns – all are early astir, for the 15th leave today for the front. The "Fall in" sounds, and has never been more promptly answered. "Roll Call", inspection, and final instructions are over. The order "Advance in column of route from the right" – Form 4s – "Right", "Quick March", and the boys swing out from the parade ground with a heavy pack, but with a light heart. On the way to the station, one end of the column is singing, "Ragtime Soldiers" while from the rear come the strains of "Australia will be there".

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Friends and relatives line the streets on either side, or walk along with the men to the station. They are soon at the station, and the entrainment is the work of a few minutes. Immediately the windows are up, and then blocked with the lads who are eager to wave their "goodbyes" from any vantage point. All aboard – the green flag is waved, and they’re off. The train moves swiftly – so must this narrative, or the boys will not be there before the war ends.

On detraining, the boys line up and march to the steamer. On the wharf their embarkation cards are handed to them, and certain orders as to the space allotted to each unit is made known. In proper order they march up the gangway, hand in their embarkation card, and go aboard. After the allotment of messes is complete, the men quickly divest themselves of their kits and equipment, and make for the deck. By this time the wharf is crowded with relatives and friends. Colored streamers are thrown aboard, fruit, and other little articles are passed up, last farewells are spoken, and eager faces watch while the gangway and mooring lines are lifted. Slowly the big vessel moves away, and one by one the streamers break at the strain, and the last tie to dear ones and friends is severed.

Down the bay she sails, and the boys watch from the deck and the rigging at the fast receding shore, until it is lost to their vision. With a sigh they make for the troop deck, and their attention is then given to making themselves comfortable. While thus engaged, "Cookhouse" sounds, and the first meal aboard (which is invariably Tea) is partaken of.

It is a strange gathering, and everything appears strange. Tea over, the boys again take to the deck, but there is little time to spare, as hammocks and blankets have to be distributed and a selection of sleeping "possies" to be made. The hammocks are soon in position on the hooks, and as the boys have had some late nights during the last week ashore, they are not long ere they are "Rocked in the cradle of the deep" to a peaceful slumber.

To look at the hammocks as they hang in rows to the hooks in the roof, would remind one of frozen mutton hanging in a refrigerating chamber. But they are the boys at rest, dreaming of home and loved ones, and this is their first night at sea.

First day at sea. The throb of the engines has awakened many of the boys early this morning. Reveille sounded at 6 a.m. but things today are somewhat mixed. On awaking it was impossible to understand for the moment where they were, or what had happened, but the roll of the ship soon reveals to them that they are at sea, and this is their first morning on the briny. They hop out, roll blankets and hammocks, dress, and make for the troop deck as soon as they can. The steamer rolls and pitches, and land is nowhere in sight. Here and there some of the boys feel unwell, and in a very short time a few will be found leaning on the ship’s rail looking dismally at the white foam. Others are sitting around with a look of utter despair on their faces. Then an unfamiliar sound from our "cobbo" at the rail tells us that he is losing last night’s tea. Others join in and it is not long before many teas are lost forever. Seasickness has become an epidemic. Bugle calls are ignored, meals are left untouched, men lay around as it were after a charge. It is a broken army for the time being, but ere long it will awake to new life and vigor. Only those who have survived the malady, move around and look after their unfortunate comrades, thus proving their true comradeship. The "First post" is sounded, and the hammocks are again swinging on the hooks, with their precious freight. Before "Last Post" and "Lights out" are sounded, the boys are again in dreamland, and their first day at sea ends.

Perhaps many times before "Reveille" sounds on the morning of the second day, some of the men have been up at the rail again. Whether that is the case or not, they make the effort to get up and out of the stuffy mess decks to fresh air above. The epidemic of seasickness is still rampant, consequently the day passes in a somewhat similar manner to its predecessor. But can one wonder at it, when the old ship swings to and fro on the rolling billows of the Australian Bight.

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She rolls like a drunken man, and so do the boys on board. Walking in a decent way is impossible, and it becomes an amusing nuisance to have to shift from one position to another. Nearly all are down to it, both offices and men, and instead of the usual regimental activity and alacrity of action, utter confusion and chaos reigns. The men do not spring to attention with the click of the heels as they did three short days ago. Thus the long miserable hours of the day pass, and the seasick men are again in slumber lying, before "Last post" and "lights out" echo on the stillness of the night.

On the advent of the 3rd day at sea, the boys are beginning to get accustomed to the conditions, and as the seasickness wears off, they begin to move about more freely, and take a little nourishment. In a few hours they will be soldiers again, and the usual smile and "cheerio" will make them glad to be alive. A few more appear at mess, and there is less food left over at the end of the meal. Now they are moving about on the deck, and get about like the real Jack Tar. The "digger" has found his sea legs. Consequently with the return of health, something must be given them to do to keep them from mischief, so work soon begins in real earnest. The men must be exercised and kept busy, otherwise sickness of another kind might be the result. Orders are given that at "Reveille" the men must rise, dress, roll blankets and hammocks, and place them on the mess tables. One man of each mess is detailed to collect the hammocks, and place them in a large bin. The men then wash, do odd jobs for themselves, and make ready for breakfast. Mess orderlies are selected, and men who are naturally gifted for such work, generally take over these duties for the voyage at a nominal amount per week from each man in the mess. This is a good scheme, and works out well in most cases. The mess orderlies are of course, immune from other duties and fatigues. At the call of "Cookhouse" at 7-30 a.m. the men go down to breakfast, which consists of porridge, stew, bread and jam, and cheese. When breakfast is over, the Mess orderlies wash up the dishes, scrub the mess tables, floor, and forms, while the men get ready for the "Fall in" at 10 a.m., and for inspection at 11 a.m. The decks are washed down, and everything put in order, lavatories and wash houses are hosed out, and the ship made as clean as possible. About 11 a.m. the men are lined up and stand to attention while the C.O. Troops and officers make their inspection of both men and ship, after which "Carry on" is blown and they go on with their duties as before. Sick parades are called both morning and afternoon, and the sick men are treated by the doctor. (Note Call:- 6694 won’t go sick any more, the poor beggars dead).

At the Call of "Fall in" all units parade on their own troop decks. Routine orders are read to them, the fatigues are told off, while the remainder of the men engage in drill. Each Unit on board has its period for supplying men for Fatigue Duty, Guards &c. The period is for one week at a time, from Monday till the following Monday, and men are supplied to the Butcher, Baker, Cookhouse (for peeling potatoes, and preparing vegetables for meals) together with numerous duties that are necessary each day on a troopship. The Guard is composed of 2 N.C.Os (1 Sgt & 1 Cpl)) and 18 men, and each man does 2 hours on, and 4 hours off, duty. They are posted at different parts of the ship, some guarding the guns on the port and starboard side of the ship, and at the stern, while others are on duty at the Isolation Hospital, Guard room, and at other prohibited places.

Drill is continued till 11-45 a.m. when the bugler blows the "Retire". All the men are then ready for the welcome strains of "Cookhouse", which is heard at 12 midday, announcing that dinner is ready.

The meal consists of Roast meat (Mutton, Beef, Rabbit) and tripe is sometimes served in stew and vegetables in the way of potatoes, cabbage, Pumpkin, Carrots, Peas, and Haricot Beans. For Pudding, we have Boiled Rice, Sago, Tapioca, and sometimes Plum Pudding. Bread, Butter, Jam, Treacle, and Cheese are nearly always obtainable, so it must be understood that a soldier’s meal on board ship is good, and complaints are few. A man must be very fussy to take exception to the above mentioned food.

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After dinner the Mess Orderlies are again busy, while the men lounge about, or play quoits, cards, or other games, until "Fall in" at 2 p.m. calls them again to duty. At 4 p.m. the "Retire" is blown, and at 4-30 the men are dismissed for the day. Tea is served at 4-45 p.m., when invariably a hot scone, with cheese or bully beef, and jam, comprise the evening meal.

After tea, the boys are again at play. The piano, which however, is the worse for wear (except for the one which the Y.M.C.A. lends for Concerts &c.) is made use of to the some extent. Here and there you will find a man with his flute, Cornet, or Mouth Organ, and the strains of old familiar tunes rend the air. Boxing is a favourite pastime, and is much indulged in, while gambling, I am sorry to say, goes on almost incessantly, although the latter is punishable according to Orders.

At 7 p.m. Hammocks are drawn, but as the nights are getting warmer, the men, instead of sleeping down on the Mess decks, are to be seen choosing their quarters on the upper deck, where they slumber peacefully under the stars. It is quite a sight at night to see them stretched out in rows along the deck, while others are hanging to the rigging, or tied up to spars or other gear. Much amusement is caused, however, if during the night a storm should disturb their slumbers. Down comes the rain, and a general scatter is the result, men and blankets scurring [scurrying] for shelter. Some, however, sleep right through the showers, and in the morning they are to be seen asleep under their waterproof sheets, just as if it were the best of weather. To walk the deck when the boys have decided to sleep on deck, is a tricky business, requiring some skill to avoid putting one’s foot on either a head or an arm, when the ship has some roll on.

As the days go by, other duties come into force. There are times to be set apart for the washing of clothes, and as all Units cannot do their washing on the same day, seperate days are set apart for each unit. On those days, lines are hung with articles of clothing of every description, but whether the color of the garments as they hang on the lines would make a good advertisement for Sunlight Soap, it is questionable, still the clothes are clean, and that fills the bill on a troopship.

Other days are set apart for "Making & Mending", the airing of blankets, checking of kits and equipment, hammocks, &c. I must mention here that there is on the ship, an Inhaling Room. Parades are made to this room at frequent intervals during the voyage for the purpose of fumigation. About 50 men enter at a time, and by means of a steam pipe or tube, emitting steam at a point conjointly with another tube containing Zinc Sulphate disinfectant, it sends into the atmosphere of the room a steamy vapour which is inhaled, and becomes a destroyer of any germs that might be lurking round. This is necessary on board a troopship where a number of men are grouped so closely together for say a couple of months at the least. Next to this room is the Isolation Hospital, but of course no access is obtainable to it from any part of the ship except by the steps leading up to the one and only door, and at the foot of the steps a Guard is posted.

Before I proceed further with this narrative, I would like to dwell just a moment on the subject of bird life at sea, and other items of passing interest, which may be just a little off the point, but worthy of note.

Before the ship is many days on its journey across the Ocean, the sea birds make their appearence. The most noticeable is the Albatross (reminding one of "The Ancient Mariner") which I might say is almost a constant companion, especially when in mid ocean. This bird flies around the ship day after day, in search of food of any description that may be thrown over the side. If it were not for his presence, life on the sea for the troops would be void of much interest, as a transport generally keeps well away from the ordinary trade route, thereby minimising any chance of seeing a passing sail.

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The voyage of which I write was one of at least 60 days at sea, and not one vessel of any description was sighted during that time. Consequently, one takes note of birds, weather, sunsets, &c. on such occasions. One exceptionally calm day in mid ocean when the waters were asleep, the steamer stopped for some cause or other, and the Albatrosses were just swimming and flying around the stern of the ship, enjoying the morsels of food thrown to them by the men. It was an extraordinary sight, and reminded one of the swans as they glide on the quiet waters of the ponds at Botanical Gardens of our cities, when the children throw food to them. Then there is the Petrel, Cape Pigeon, and other sea birds the names of which are unknown to me.

As we were about 4 days off the land, and nearing our first port of call, the Flying Fish made their appearance. Rising on the crest of a wave, they would fly some 50 yards before dropping to water again. I am told that they fly till their wings or fins get dry, when they immediately fall to the water again. The porpoises also made their appearance leaping from the water, and swimming alongside the ship, as if challenging to race. Whales also were seen to spout, but at a considerable distance away. Another interesting item is the phosphorous in the sea water, which of course is only seen at night. Peculiar matter this is, shining like numerous fireflies as it passes away from the ship’s side. In the showers of the Bathroom, if one chances to indulge at night time, the phosphorus falls like sparks to the floor.

Coming back to our subject again, I must not forget to mention that a Sports Tournament is generally arranged during the voyage. Days are set apart for the different events, which include Boxing, Tug of war, Quoits, Skipping, Races, Cards Draughts, and numerous other items. Great interest is manifested in this competition, and the entries are numerous.

Concerts are also arranged, and it is surprising to find the variation of programme that can be obtained from the troops. The C.O. Troops generally presides, and the Padres, Y.M.C.A. Representative, and others assist. The Officers, both Military, and those belonging to the ship, are to be found enjoying the entertainment along with the men. Piano, Violin, Flute, Cornet, Organ, Mouth Organ, and even to the Bagpipes, supply the instrumental items, while vocal artists are numerous, and others skilled in elocution add their numbers.

One morning a most amusing incident happened, though it might have proved serious. At breakfast, one of the Mess Orderlies who had been up at the Cookhouse for extra Stew for his mess, was returning to the Mess Deck, and when a few steps down the companionway, the ship lurched and he missed his footing. Down he came headlong to the bottom of the stairs and on to the Mess deck. What a sight he presented when he picked himself up – stew from head to foot. The men cheered, clapped, and demanded an encore.

The stairs were of course all greasy form the stew, and several of the men who had been on deck and had not witnessed this stewpid performance, when coming down the stairs stepped on the greasy treads, repeating the performance of their first digger, to the delight of the already excited audiance.

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Many are the practical jokes played on each other by the lads as they journey across the briny, to reinforce their "cobbos" "over there". Gloominess is practically unknown, and although danger may be lurking around, little they seem to fear from the stealthy U boat or the death dealing mine, and when the boys are not at drill, on fatigue Duty, Guard, or playing some game, you can depend upon it they are hatching some joke to play on some "digger" for their amusement.

On board our troopship we had a fastidious, finniky, old Pay Sergeant known as Mac. (McCarthy). Everyone on board knew Mac, and nearly every time he came along the deck he would be greeted with the words "When are we getting paid, Mac" – at which Mac would bite very savagely. Mac used to sleep on deck in an empty piano case, when the weather was good, and one night some of the lads emptied the contents of a tin of condensed milk all over Mac’s blankets. When Mac went to bunk that night, the milk sweetened his blankets alright, but it didn’t sweeten Mac’s temper. No one of course knew how the milk got into the blankets or how the blankets got into the milk, or how Mac got into both, but being registered under the Pure Foods Act it must have stuck to Mac like a mustard plaster to a weezy chest. Mac was annoyed, indignant, wroth, and challenged the offender, (whom he thought belonged to the Sergeant Quarters) to make himself known, but the challenge remained unchallenged. He, however, stated that he would report the matter to the Ship’s Adjutant if the culprit did not give himself up within 24 hours. The time of the Armistice slipped by, so Mac couched the following letter of complaint:-

Sir,
I have to report that during the night of the 24th. instant. my blankets and myself were the recipients of the contents of a tin of condensed milk, &c, &c.

The Ship’s Adj. was so amused at the letter that he, unbeknown to Mac, had copies of the letter made to show to his friends. Poor Mac – he made a deal of amusement for the boys on board, and by so doing, unconsciously kept up their spirits during times when things looked very "blue", brought about by that terrible scourge – the Pneumonic ‘flu, of which we had over 400 cases aboard, 30 of which "passed out".

On another occasion when some of the men of the 15th G.S.R. (Vic) were on guard duty, and had just been relieved for the night and gone below for a few hours sleep, a number of those "off duty" when everything was quiet, slipped from their hammocks, and gently painted the faces of the sleeping heroes with Kiwi Black Boot Polish. You can imagine what they looked like on the morrow, and how they were admired by their pals. As Kiwi Polish is very hard to remove from the skin, I can assure you there was some extra scrubbing done on the dials of those diggers that morning.

Nearly every troopship has its "Magazine", and ours was no exception to the rule. A Committee was formed, and immediately got to work to obtain all the information possible in regard to its compilation. Items of interest were invited from the men, and Prose, Poetry, sketches, photographs &c. were advertised for. Our Magazine was named "The Boonah Buzzer", and it contains Advertisements, Lost & Found, Wanteds, Situations Vacant, Matrimonial, Wireless Press, Leading articles, latest Sporting, and all that can be desired. Under the heading of "Lost & Found" you have something like the following:- Lost – 1 seven pound tin of jam, last seen travelling in the direction of Railway Unit quarters. Finder return without sampling to 21st G.S.R. Lost – An Army sausage, answers to same [name] of "Fido". Reward on returning to Pte. A. Dope. Detainer prosecuted. Found – a Tooth brush. Number of hairs to be stated thereon. Apply to Pte. Gummy, 15th GSR.

In the "Wanted to Know" column, questions similar to the following are asked:-

"Should the "Boonah" be allowed to pitch and toss, seeing that gambling is prohibited."

Why did the Censor pass this – My Darling Peach – Just a few lines to let you know I am well. I will soon be home, and may God protect you – From your loving husband.

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The Canteen on board is well patronised, and tasty additions to the meals are obtained there from by the men. Tinned fruits are a general favourite, as also is tinned fish, sweets, chocolates, and aerated waters. Other necessary articles are also for sale which the men may at times feel themselves in need of.

The Y.M.C.A. and Red Cross Cabins supply the boys with reading matter of all kinds, from the best authors, to 3d Yellow Backs, or a 1d Love Story. Writing paper and envelopes are always available to the men, and at intervals during the voyage, fruit is distributed gratis.

Almost every day after leaving port, the wireless news is received and posted up each morning. It is interesting, not only to read the very latest news each day, but to note the different stations from which it is received. As the days go by, the station from which the news comes, gradually gets out of range, and the news is then picked up from stations which come within range. Maybe several of these stations will transmit messages each day, each station being a considerable distance one from the other. The news is welcomed by the troops, and eagerly scanned by both officers and men.

Church Parade is held at 10-30 a.m. every Sunday. All troops parade in Service Dress, and assemble on the Troop Deck for inspection, those who attend the Roman Catholic Service fall out of the ranks and muster in the Sergeants’ quarters, while the remainder of the men congregate amidships on the troops deck. Hymn Books are distributed and the men enjoy singing the favourite tunes so well known by and men of all classes. "Rock of Ages", "Lead Kindly Light", and "O God, our help in Ages Past", are hymns that are always selected as some of the best. After the Padre has spoken for a few minutes, the Benediction is pronounced and the singing of "The National Anthem" brings the service to a close. After tea, the Y.M.C.A. representative, or one of the Padres generally carry on a Praise Service on the troop deck. Then the men choose their own hymns, and it is quite inspiring to hear how they sing those hymns. Other services are held during Sunday afternoon in the Dining saloon – Bible Class, and sometimes Communion.

Bathing parades are held during the week days, each Unit having its separate day. A large canvas bath is hung to the rigging, with the bottom resting on the deck, and is filled with sea water by the ship’s pumps. A constant stream of water is pumped into the bath, so that it is always fresh and clean. The Bath is about 10 ft long by 6 ft wide, by 4 ft deep, so that it affords nice room to splash about in. During the first few days it came into use, men who were fully dressed were placed therein to afford some amusement for the crowd, but the joke had to be cut out, as the lads were making it too willing, and in one case when the man who had been immersed in his clothes, and had hung them to dry, some of the lads hid them, leaving him nothing to wear, suitable for parades.

As the ship gets into the Danger Zone, Submarine and Mine Guards are mounted for Duty, and lifeboat drill becomes necessary to the routine. At 4 blasts of the ship’s siren, each and every man rushes to his troop deck, secures a lifebelt and places it in position on himself, and stands to attention on his troop deck, in order of mess. One mess immediately climbs to the raft deck, makes ready to cut away, and throw them overboard. The ship is stopped for about 15 minutes, then the siren is blown again, denoting that the drill is over. Life belts are taken off, away and stacked away for any emergency. It is a solemn and very necessary drill, though not regarded as such at the time by the men. It also becomes necessary that all lights are out at sunset – Smoking is prohibited at night and the ship slides on her way in the darkness, which at dead of night with a rough sea abeam is very uncanny.

Enquiries are made for men who have had gunnery experience, and the training of these men on the 4.7 gun aft, is carried out by the naval officers of the ship. A number of men are also trained

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in musketry for the purpose of giving a hearty reception to the occupants of an enemy submarine, should one happen to pop up alongside the steamer at any time. Each cabin is fitted above the door with a "Make & Break" electric light connection, and immediately the door is opened, out goes the light. This is a splendid idea, and very satisfactory.

Orders are issued that empty bottles and other refuse must not be thrown overboard, as same may be of benefit to the enemy in locating the course taken by a transport. During this portion of the voyage, the speed of the ship is increased to its utmost limit, and all advantages are taken to make port at the earliest opportunity, and without undue delay. Fatigue parties of the men are organised for work down the stokehold, wheeling coal to a place near the furnaces of easy access for the stokers.

When within a day or two of port, the troops are given instructions that on entering harbours, and when passing warships or other transports, they must muster on their troop deck and stand to attention. No signals of any description are to be made.

On the day of arrival in port, all is excitement and bustle. The welcome sight of land creates a longing unknown to any but those who have been at sea for a few weeks. The men are looking forward to shore leave at all foreign ports, and for that leave to be stopped as has been the case in some instances the writer knows of, is beyond comprehension. In one instance in particular when leave had been cancelled owing to a most unfortunate circumstance, a lady friend (who has proved a friend indeed to every Australian Soldier who has had the opportunity of calling at that port) helped the boys in every possible way, to bear their hardship and disappointment. She sent large consignments of fruit to the ship, posted letters for the men, made purchases of different articles for them, was the first to welcome us, and the last to bid us farewell. I need not mention her name here, it is so well known to all the boys, and will ever be remembered.

However, I must now go on with my story. We are off the port, and above us the signals and numbers are flying at the foremast. At the headland in the distance, their signals announce our approach, and presently we see the pilot boat coming out to us. Our ship is stopped, and we wait his coming. His little steamer manouvres for a position alongside us, and in a short space of time the pilot swings aboard our ship and makes for the bridge. Our propeller churns the waves again, and we proceed to the entrance and up the harbour. Eagerly we look for other transports and other interesting sights. There is a look of dismay on all faces as the yellow flag is run up the yard arm, and instead of tying up at the wharf, we anchor out in the stream. Our trip thus far is at an end, and we watch and wait, and wish for our release from the ship and for relaxation ashore. We look at the busy wharf where ships of all nationalities are loading and discharging their cargoes.

Rumors of all kinds among the men are as plentiful as the flowers in spring, and the wireless received and transmitted among the troops themselves on a troopship, would baffle old Marconi himself.

But I leave you now as we are safely in port with all dangers for the time being passed, and the Life on an Australian Transport going on as it has done since the first contingent left Australia for service overseas, in 1914.

"God save the King".

Ernest Bailey
E. Bailey
Novr. 1918

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"En Route" – Abroad
H.M.A.T. "Boonah" A. 36

(1) We left old "Broady" one bright morn, - Broady – Broadmeadows, Vic.
"En route" for scenes abroad;
Where Kaiser Bill and Hindenberg,
And other Boches horde.

(2) Our dear ones on the Station stood,
And waved us fond "goodbyes";
We feel felt the parting, but withheld,
The tears that flood our eyes.

(3) The "Farewells" o’er, we rush along,
We’re bound for Adelaide;
To board our ship, and there join up,
With the "S" U.K. Brigade. "S" U.K. means South Australia – United Kingdom

(4) Then on that bright but dusty morn,
We marched aboard the "Boonah"
Some looked askance at her, and said
They’d sooner board a schooner.

(5) The wharf is crowded, dear ones stand,
Our last "goodbyes" are spoken;
The steamer moves, "we’re off" they say,
And "farewell" ribbons broken. Ribbons or "streamers" of which there were many.

(6) The night was bright and starry,
As the "Boonah" plowed the deep;
The boys aboard were feeling crook,
The Guard had gone to sleep.

(7) The "Bight" was gently moving,
In its gentle dreamy way;
It touched the reinforcements up,
As on the deck they lay.

(8) The bouncing, bounder, "Boonah" rolls,
On every billowy swell;
And makes us sick and saddened souls,
Wish the Kaiser were in hell.

(9) At length we reach a western port - Fremantle
And forward look for leave, Sir:
But we are stiff, as stiff can be,
For all have come a "buster". * - (No leave)

(10) But we will not downhearted be,
Because we’re kept aboard, Sir,
We’re out to finish up the Hun,
So send the ship along, Sir.

(11) We’re doing now some thirteen knots,
Across the Indian Ocean;
And soon we’ll touch old Afric’s shores,
And then, we have a notion ---

(12) We’ll surely have a better time,
When Durban heaves in sight, Sir;
For don’t you see we’ve left behind,
The Great Australian Bight, Sir.

"Bill" Bailey.
15th G.S.R. (Vic)

8/11/1918

* "Gutzer" is the original digger word – meaning the abdominal crash and much used on board.

[Transcribed by Judy Gimbert for the State Library of New South Wales]