The

Kangaroo Marines

By

CAPT. R. W. CAMPBELL

Author of "Private Spud Tamson"

CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne

First Published 1915

DEDICATED
TO THE
CONQUERORS OF ANZAC
AND THE
MANY KIND FRIENDS I MET
IN
AUSTRALASIA, EGYPT, AND THE DARDANELLES

PREFACE

I am not an Australasian, I am a Scot. Therefore, I hold no special brief for the folks down under. But I am an Imperialist—one filled with admiration for our overseas Dominions and the self-sacrifice of our colonial cousins. They have played the game. They have astonished the world. They have even exceeded our own expectations. Let us not stint our praise. Let us write deep in the annals of our literature and military history this supreme devotion, this noble heroism. And in the greater Councils of Empire let us see to it that these sons of the Motherland have a say in settling affairs.

And I can claim at least the right to write about our gallant Australasians. I have lived in Australia and New Zealand. I have served on a Sydney paper and with the New Zealand Herald. I have met every Premier (Federal and otherwise), from "Andrew" Fisher to "Bill" Massey. And, during my stay, I made it my duty to study the Citizen Army—a National Service organisation.

This was before the war. And this army was founded by "K" and the Governments of Australia and New Zealand. Did they see ahead? One is almost tempted to think so. In any case, the possession of a General Staff and the framework of a National Army ensured the rapid mobilisation of a voluntary force to assist the Motherland. This force was armed, clothed, equipped and staffed from the existing military organisations in Australia and New Zealand. You have heard of their courage at Anzac; you have read of how many have died.

Anzac is the cope-stone of Imperialism. It is the grim expression of a faith that is everlasting, of a love that shall endure the shocks of years, and all the cunning devilry of such as the Barbarous Huns. Hence this little book. It is an inspiration of the Dardanelles, where I met many of our Australasian friends. It is not an official history. I have, in my own way, endeavoured to picture what like these warring Bohemians are. The cloak of fiction has here and there been wound round temperamental things as well as around some glorious facts.

I hope I shall please all and offend none.

R. W. CAMPBELL, Capt.
October, 1915.

CONTENTS

THE KANGAROO MARINES

CHAPTER I

A NOTABLE QUARTETTE

WANTED.—One Thousand cheerful toughs to enlist for the period of the war in the Kangaroo Marines. Boosers, scrimshankers and loonies barred. Gents with big waists and little hearts are warned off. Sharpshooters on the wallaby, able to live on condensed air and boiled snakes, are cordially invited. No parson's references are required. Jackaroos, cattlemen, rouseabouts, shearers—every sort of handy-man welcome. Pay, 6s. per day, and all the "jewels" in the Sultan's harem.

This is to be the crack corps of the Australian Force.

Hurry up and join.
            (Signed) SAM KILLEM, Lt. Col. Commanding.

This alluring advertisement appeared on the front page of The Bushmen's Weekly, a Sydney production, renowned for its wit and originality. It was designed to tickle the sides of the horny-handed men of the Bush, and to rope in the best of them. For these men of the Never-Never Land are soldiers born and heroes in the toughest job. They think deep and know the way of things. If they appear wild and uncouth, they carry beneath that scrubby exterior the will of men and the open heart of the child.

Moreover, they love the Motherland. This was specially true of the four who tenanted a little shanty on the sheep station of "Old Graham," one of the wealthiest men in Australia. The quartette consisted of Bill Buster, a typical Cornstalk with a nut-brown face, twinkling eyes and a spice of the devil and the Lord in his soul. Next came Claud Dufair, a handsome remittance man with an eye-glass and a drawl. This fellow had personality. He insisted on wearing a white collar and using kid gloves when doing anything, from dung lifting to sheep shearing. Paddy Doolan was the third member. He was an Irishman by birth, but Australian by adoption. He had been in the Bush since he was a kid. A kind soul