Digger Smith | Page 9

little game.

"Look 'ere," I sez. "About this Flo.
Jim mightn't come back 'ome, yeh
know.
You 'ave a fly; yeh're sure to score;
Besides, all's fair in love
an' war."
"Sling that!" 'e sez; but I goes on
"Ole Jim won't blame yeh when
she's gone.
'E knows, the same as me an' you,
These silly tarts, they
can't keep true."
I piles it on until I've got
'Im where I want
'im--jumpin' 'ot.
An' then 'e sez, "'Ere, sling that talk!
I might be groggy in me walk;

But if yeh say them things to me
I'm man enough to crack yeh; see?"

"Righto," sez I. "That was me plan.
Now wot about this 'arf a
man?"
'E stares at me, an' then sez, slow,
"Wot is yer game? Wot do yeh
know?"
"Nothin'," I tells 'im, "only this
When there's a waitin' tart
to kiss
Yeh're only 'arf a man; but when
There's blokes to fight,

yeh're twenty men."
"Wot tart?" 'e asks. "Yeh mean this Flo?"
"P'r'aps not," I sez. "You
ought to know."
I waits to let me words sink in.
An' then--'e beats
me with that grin.
"Match-makin', Bill?" 'e laughs. "Oh, 'Ell!
You
take up knittin' for a spell."
IX. THE BOYS OUT THERE
The Boys Out There
"WHY do they do it? I dunno,"
Sez Digger Smith. "Yeh got me beat.

Some uv the yarns yeh 'ear is true,
An' some is rather umptydoo,

An' some is--indiscreet.
But them that don't get to the crowd,
Them
is the ones would make yeh proud."
With Digger Smith an' other blokes
'Oo 'ave returned it's much the
same
They'll talk uv wot they've seen an' done
When they've been
out to 'ave their fun;
But no word uv the game.
On fights an' all the
tale uv blood
Their talk, as they remark, is dud.
It's so with soldiers, I 'ave 'eard,
All times. The things that they 'ave
done,
War-mad, with blood before their eyes,
An' in their ears wild
fightin' cries,
They ever after shun.
P'r'aps they forget; or find it
well
Not to recall too much uv 'Ell.
An' when they won't loose up their talk
It's 'ard for us to understand

'Ow all those boys we used to know,
Ole Billo, Jim an' Tom an' Joe,

Done things to beat the band.
We knoo they'd fight; but they've
became
'Ead ringers at the fightin' game.
Well, wot I've 'eard from Digger Smith
An' other soldier blokes like
'im
I've put together bit by bit,
An' chewed a long time over it;

An' now I've got a dim
An' 'azy notion in me 'ead
Why they is
battlers, born an' bred.

Wot did they know uv war first off,
When they joined up? Wot did I
know
When I was tossed out on me neck
As if I was a shattered
wreck
The time I tried to go?
Flat feet! Me feet 'as len'th an' brea'th

Enough to kick a 'Un to death!
They don't know nothin', bein' reared
Out 'ere where war 'as never
spread--
"A land by bloodless conquest won,"
As some son uv a
writin' gun
Sez in a book I read
They don't know nix but wot they're
told
At school; an' that sticks till they're old.
Yeh've got to take the kid at school,
Gettin' 'is 'ist'ry lesson learned--

Then tales uv Nelson an' uv Drake,
Uv Wellin'ton an' Fightin'
Blake.
'Is little 'eart 'as burned
To get right out an' 'ave a go,
An'
sock it into some base foe.
Nothin' but glory fills 'is mind;
The British charge is somethin' grand;

The soldier that 'e reads about
Don't 'ave no time for fear an' doubt;

'E's the 'eroic brand.
So, when that boy gets in the game,
'E jist
wades in an' does the same.
Not bein' old 'ands at the stunt,
They simply does as they are told;

But, bein' Aussies--Spare me days!--
They never thinks uv other ways,

But does it brave an' bold.
That's 'arf; an' for the other part
Yeh
got to go back to the start.
Yeh've got to go right back to Dad,
To Gran'dad and the pioneers,

'Oo packed up all their bag uv tricks
An' come out 'ere in fifty-six,

An' battled thro' the years;
Our Gran'dads; and their women, too,

That 'ad the grit to face the new.
It's that old stock; an', more than that,
It's Bill an' Jim an' ev'ry son

Gettin' three good meat meals a day
An' 'eaps uv chance to go an'
play
Out in the bonzer sun.
It's partly that; but, don't forget,

When
it's all said, there's somethin' yet.

There's somethin' yet; an' there I'm beat.
Crowds uv these lads I've
known, but then,
They 'ave got somethin' from this war,
Somethin'
they never 'ad before,
That makes 'en better men.
Better? There's no
word I can get
To name it right. There's somethin' yet.
We 'ear a lot about reward;
We praise, an' sling the cheers about;

But there was debts we can't repay
Piled up on us one single day--

When that first list come out.
There ain't no way to pay that debt.

Do wot we can--there's somethin' yet.
X. HALF A MAN
Half a Man
"I WASH me 'ands uv 'im," I tells 'em, straight.
"You women can do
wot yeh dash well like.
I leave this 'arf a man to 'is own fate;
I've
done me bit,