CHAPTER 6

Egypt

When the troopships of the first AIF contingent had left Australia, they were in fear of armed naval raiders operating in the Indian Ocean and so sailed in convoy under a heavy naval escort. The German threat was real enough: HMAS Sydney, one of the accompanying warships, located and destroyed the raider SMS Emden in a one-sided encounter off the Cocos-Keeling Islands. It was a great victory for the infant Royal Australian Navy, and it meant that future troopships leaving from Australia could proceed with little fear of being molested. Consequently, the transports carrying the 3rd Light Horse Brigade left Melbourne and Fremantle independently, and for several weeks the brigade was strung out across the seas between Australia and Suez.

The 10th Light Horse was the first to depart. On 8 February 1915 two squadrons left Western Australia on the Mashobra. The remaining squadron, together with the first reinforcements, did not follow until the 17th. The departure for the war of the state’s light horse was an event to celebrate. The two squadrons, with Brazier at their head, marched from Claremont to Fremantle and began loading horses. A huge crowd gathered to farewell them and the boisterous demonstration concealed the deep heartfelt concerns of many of the parents, wives, brothers and sisters. There were nervous laughs, hugs and tears before the men were all finally assembled on board the ship. The sound of a band playing the national anthem, wild waving and noisy cheers accompanied the ship as it slowly drew out from the wharf. Many of the families gathered there were to retain the fond memory of this scene as their last sight of loved ones.

In contrast to the Western Australians, the other troops left quietly without any dock-side farewells. Most of the 9th Regiment left from Melbourne on the Karoo and the Armidale on 11 February. While a few officers, some men and more than 100 horses had sailed early in the month, the main component of the 8th Light Horse, on a troopship bearing the appropriate name of Star of Victoria, did not depart until the 24th. These Victorians had been able to take some short leave a few days earlier to say their goodbyes. After loading, the Star of Victoria moved out and stood off Williamstown. Tom Austin, who had joined the AIF straight out of school, eventually became the regiment’s adjutant and a chronicler of its war exploits. That evening he recalled that ‘a few hours were spent leaning over the rails looking at the lights of Melbourne, and speculations of our future doings were many and varied’.¹ The ship got under way during the night and next morning the troops watched their coastline slip away over the stern. Austin continued:

The world was now before us and though full of eagerness and glad to be on our way to the front many of us looked back on our Broadmeadows days with a sigh. The life there had taught us much, the Country man had got to know a good deal of the city, and the City man had grown to love the open air life and exercise of the camp. We had become wise in the many fine points of a soldier’s life, such as fatigue dodging, orderly rooms etc. We knew the YMCA was the place to find a man when he was required for fatigue or guard, that the dirtiest man in the camp was the cook, and that night time was the time to make up all shortages in kit and saddlery and that the Quartermaster Sergeant was the best man to buy beer for.²

The ships were of varying size and vintage and moved at different speeds to Colombo, on to Aden, then Port Said, and disembarked their passengers at Suez or passed through the Suez Canal to Alexandria. As each crossed the equator, ‘crossing the line’ ceremonies were conducted, usually with some rough fun at the expense of a few of the officers. Brazier enthusiastically entered into the clowning and appeared dressed in a feather head-dress and a lot of red paint, to represent ‘Chief Kirup of Kapeldene’. He wrote: ‘19th Feb. Crossed the line. Ceremony the funniest thing I ever saw. Much laughter.’³

As the Victorians neared Colombo, Colonel White addressed his thoughts to his wife: ‘Lectured NCOs. Spoke to them very earnestly about swearing and gambling among the troops – also warned them about the native women. I am feeling splendid, the voyage so far … has been one long holiday and loaf, only wish I had you all with me.’⁴

The Mashobra, with the 10th Light Horse, was the first to reach Colombo and the men were allowed ashore under the supervision of the officers. Earlier Australian contingents had behaved wildly and a close watch was kept on these latest arrivals. Brazier observed that the Australians were unpopular with the locals. The 9th Light Horse was not so lucky. Only officers and some NCOs were allowed off the ships when they arrived.

Once ashore, Major Reynell heard of the Royal Navy’s attempts to force the Dardanelles to shell Constantinople and put Turkey out of the war. He saw the prospect of quickly getting to the front: ‘If these [operations] are successful it should relieve the necessity for a large garrison in Egypt and we may after a month in Egypt for conditioning horses be sent on to Europe or Constantinople.’⁵ At Aden he sought more news. This time he heard false reports that the Australians were to be sent to Smyrna.

Carew Reynell had already impressed his personality on the brigade. He was 31 years old, having been born in South Australia, where his grandfather had established one of the state’s earliest wineries. Reynell also became a winemaker and, from the age of 19, managed the family business and set about making the Reynella brand widely known.⁶ He was one of those remarkable officers, some of whom became famous throughout the AIF, who went at everything head-on. Antill came to regard him as ‘a splendid man [and] an exceptionally fine and dashing leader’.⁷

Antill held no similar feelings for Brazier, with whom he shared the sea voyage. The brigade major had been sent to Perth to accompany the Western Australians to Egypt and while aboard the Mashobra was Officer Commanding Troops. Trouble developed between the two men as soon as the ship left the wharf. Evidently the moment that the farewells were over, Antill addressed the troops, saying: ‘This is the worst disciplined regiment I have ever seen.’ Brazier, who was intensely proud of his command, was cut to the core. ‘I did not say anything, but I felt a lot,’ he later wrote.⁸ Some other minor incidents followed, which any other person may have chosen to ignore. But it was not in Brazier’s nature to let such matters pass and he was soon making his resentment clear. The antipathy which developed between them set the tone of their future relationship.

The ships carrying the three regiments reached Egypt over four weeks up to 4 April. As they approached Suez, the men became aware that they were entering a theatre of war. There were a number of dark and impressive warships to be seen, and on the Star of Victoria full ash bags were piled against the handrails as protection from any Turkish rifle fire. While moving through the Suez Canal, the men exchanged greetings with Indian troops manning the trenches along the vital waterway.

Colonel White was not enthusiastic about the prospects of being stuck in Egypt, training:

I want to get right up to the front now. I want to fight and do my job well, and then come home. Sitting in the desert for months is no good at all; it’s bad. Bad for discipline, bad for morale, bad for health. But still why do I growl; we are soldiers and must do what we are told. I sure do want to rush things, but all the same I do hope they won’t break our hearts with delay. This regiment is trained, and well trained, they can leave that to me. I know when they are fit, and they are quite fit as soon as the horses carry us again.⁹

Almost a month went by, from the time that the squadrons began to arrive, before the whole brigade could be assembled. As each squadron landed, it was placed on a train for the six- or seven-hour journey to Cairo. From there the men led their horses out 15 kilometres to Mena camp, with baggage following on electric tramcars. The camp was already occupied by the 1st Australian Division and the light horsemen could see how fit and trained their countrymen had become. It was more than two weeks before the horses had sufficiently recovered from the sea voyage to be ridden, so for a while training was limited to the rifle range and dismounted drills.

Mervyn Higgins had not been able to say goodbye to his parents when he left Melbourne, because they had been in England. They were now travelling home, so they stopped off in Egypt and were already in Cairo when he arrived at Mena Camp. On his first free day the family went to church and next day travelled to Port Said. There, father and son walked together, expressing their feelings and concerns in soft words or simple silences. These were precious last moments which would have been envied by thousands of other parents in Australia. Theirs was the inescapable fear of all families, that they might never be together again.¹⁰

Although everyone was anxious to finish training and be sent to the front, the first few weeks at Mena were pleasant enough. Exercises in the desert were often arduous, but usually there was spare time in the afternoon and evenings and the Australians found plenty to entertain them. Trooper McConnan reported: ‘There are native shops all around the camp and these are quite like little townships. We can buy almost anything without going to Cairo and there are four picture theatres.’¹¹ The city was only a tram journey away and the men were drawn there for amusement. Many simply became tourists, while others found many ways of getting into trouble in a city where squalor stood beside opulence and vice beside piety. Colonel White had some pleasant off-duty moments with Hughes, Antill and other members of the staff. ‘The old Brigadier and Bullant and Tintacks are all very decent,’ he said. But he noticed that Hughes was finding the work hard-going, adding that ‘the old chap I think is ageing a lot’.¹²

Hughes was reunited with two members of his family at Mena. His own son, Arthur, had come over earlier in the 4th Light Horse, which he had joined as a private the previous September, and his brother’s son was an infantry sergeant in the 7th Battalion. While in Egypt Hughes arranged for this nephew, Wilfrid Kent Hughes, to be commissioned and transferred to his headquarters. Later, on Gallipoli in August, his son was also commissioned and transferred across.

Hughes had accepted and extended patronage in many of his affairs. The appointments of both his nephew and his son to staff positions were straightforward cases of nepotism, although both young men would finish the war with fine records. Nineteen-year old Kent Hughes wrote to his parents: ‘I am now Uncle Fred’s orderly officer (or practically A.D.C.). I made a suggestion to Uncle Fred about transferring, and he went to an awful lot of trouble to get things fixed up, although when I first asked him I had no idea of any promotion.’ With a boyish enthusiasm, he added: ‘It will probably mean dispatch-riding, and that will be ripping.’¹³

On Good Friday all the infantrymen began to move out of the camp, leaving the 3rd Light Horse Brigade and the 4th Light Horse Regiment as the sole occupants. It was widely rumoured that the Australians were heading off to meet the enemy. This was real war at last.

On 25 April 1915 the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) made an amphibious landing on the Gallipoli peninsula, Turkey, and went into action. It did not take long for the news to reach the light horsemen at Mena. The infantrymen that they had seen and mixed with over the recent weeks were now fighting and dying in battle against the Turks. A few days later the brigade shifted closer to Cairo, settling in at the Heliopolis racecourse.

Walter McConnan wrote to his sister:

Our chaps have landed at the Dardanelles now and no doubt will be fighting their way towards Constantinople. We are hoping that light horse will soon be wanted in the operations and no doubt they will. It is rumoured we may be in action before a month. I am not optimistic but hope for the best.¹⁴

In the few months that the brigade was in Egypt, relations between the brigadier and the brigade major and the three commanding officers had deteriorated. The main cause of trouble was what the regimental officers believed was unnecessary interference in the running of their units. Miell and Brazier became most disgruntled by their treatment. Even White, who maintained better relations with Hughes and Antill, expressed his annoyance: ‘At present I am very unpopular with the old chap, the Bullant, and Tintacks. I strongly resented some interference … they must learn we are not infants.’¹⁵

The 8th’s regimental medical officer, Captain Syd Campbell, shared the frustration. The 27-year-old doctor was keen, highly educated and idealistic and had left a promising career in Melbourne to join up. Having attended some of the wounded beginning to arrive from Gallipoli, and seeing the effects of the fighting there, he fumed after Antill ordered an old-style cavalry exercise, ‘Brigade drill by trumpet call’, for the entire brigade. The huge exercise turned to total chaos. Neither the trumpeters, officers nor any of the troops knew what to do, despite Antill’s furious bullying. Afterwards Campbell wrote:

Our officers seem to be getting heartily tired of the course of events in our Brigade and Regiment. Too much Brigade Hqtrs interference with the Regimental training, too much Reg. Hqrtrs interference with squadron OCs. Oh! For some competent officers in the higher commands. What a disappointment a great deal of military life has been to me – the boasted military organisation, keenness, and intelligence.¹⁶

The troops were becoming anxious to join their countrymen at the fighting front. Colonel White complained: ‘They do not want us in Turkey, no place for the light horse, in the meantime we get burned up by the sun, cussed by the Old Man, and eaten by flies. Our tempers are being destroyed.’ Miell, White and Brazier got together on the first Sunday in May to discuss their grievances. White noted that ‘the three of us were together for the first time really. They also have their little growls and worries, my advice to them was to take their gruel, it is all in the job.’¹⁷

One of the minor complaints was a carry-over from the Broadmeadows days. There Antill had introduced ‘surprise turns out’. On the alarm being given at any time of day or night, the regiments had to muster immediately for his inspection.¹⁸ In Egypt, he and Hughes did a similar thing, usually riding into the regiments’ lines about 6 am. Most of the officers and men felt that this was unnecessary and that time could be better spent in more practical training.

A lot of real trouble centred around Brazier. Problems and tensions will always develop whenever a number of people are placed together. But the trouble between Brazier, Antill and Hughes, which came to a head at Heliopolis, went quite a bit further. Brazier had fallen out with Antill while on the troopship and his relationships with him, and with Hughes, only worsened in Egypt. Where other officers may have been prepared to accept advice such as White had given, Brazier would always make his resentments known and would continue to argue the point. In one incident he was publicly upbraided by Hughes for having his second-in-command, Major Alan Love, drill the regiment instead of doing it himself. According to Brazier, Hughes spoke to Love, then sent him away ‘like a whipped boy’.¹⁹

The matter itself many not have been important, but it revealed the far deeper problems between the men. Brazier was sent for in the evening and asked whether he could train the regiment without Love. He was furious and asked to have the whole matter referred to General Sir John Maxwell, the commander in Egypt. His persistence eventually caused the incident to become an embarrassment for Hughes. Brazier now called his relationship with the brigadier and the other staff officers his ‘other war’, observing: ‘I would be better employed fighting Germans than my fellow officers and Head Quarters.’²⁰ For their part, Hughes and Antill had clearly come to regard Brazier as a troublesome officer and a cause of much frustration.

By now, there was a continuing stream of wounded from Gallipoli. McConnan watched the train-loads of invalids unloading at Heliopolis. ‘You see fellows about everywhere with slight wounds. Some of these fellows have only what they stand in available and bloodstains are sometimes visible. I am quite convinced that the story of the Dardanelles will live.’²¹

The sight of the wounded was a reminder of the seriousness of the business they were engaged upon. White addressed his thoughts to his wife: “We hear all sorts of yarns, but the wounded are coming every day. Poor chaps, they have had a bad time.’ Knowing that she would be worrying, he made a promise that he would be unable to keep: ‘Don’t worry or be sad, I am coming back to you and Bill some day, sooner or later, and then we shall be all together again. I must do my work first, and having done that I must do it well. I am coming home for good – no more soldiering – no more going away.’²²

It was thought that the light horse could be used on Gallipoli as soon as mounted operations became possible. However, the Turks had managed to hold the invaders’ advance. At Anzac – the name given to the coastal strip where the Australians and New Zealanders had landed – the enemy had only yielded a narrow toehold on the peninsula. It was decided that all available troops would be necessary if the initiative was to be regained. There were thousands of mounted men (three brigades, plus the 4th Light Horse Regiment from Australia and one brigade and the Otago Mounted Rifles from New Zealand) in Egypt, so it was proposed that they be sent as reinforcements for the infantry battalions. Sir John Maxwell was opposed to the regiments’ being broken up, but agreed to their being used dismounted so long as they stayed complete units. The regiments of the 3rd Light Horse Brigade were paraded and asked if they were willing to go to Anzac as dismounted troops. The whole brigade volunteered.

The commanders on Gallipoli now had to consider how they might use these brigades. Light horse regiments were not as large as infantry battalions and they would be further reduced by the need to leave men behind to care for the horses. Still, Maxwell and the light horsemen had their way, and the three brigades all went to Gallipoli intact, with their machine-gunners, signallers and ambulance. The first to go was the 1st Light Horse Brigade, accompanied by the machine-gunners from all brigades. Hughes called a parade of his machine-gun sections and addressed them before they left. Three cheers were given for the departing men.

On 11 May Hughes’ brigade was ordered to prepare to move out for the front and those men who would have to stay behind with the horses were nominated. He had no trouble deciding who to leave behind in command of these camp details and the reinforcements – it would be Brazier. No doubt he felt that he would be well rid of this troublesome officer for a while. He placed the departing 10th Regiment under Major Love.

The regiments’ saddles and bridles were packed for storage, while spurs and leather leggings were replaced by the ‘despised puttees’– woollen strips wound around the lower leg, which invariably defied the novice wearer’s attempts to apply them correctly. Even their plumed hats were replaced by high-domed khaki sun helmets. By 14 May the brigade was ready to set off.

Corporal Henry Foss of the 10th Light Horse, who was later killed serving as an infantryman in France, left a record of the move from Heliopolis:

After stacking all our saddlery … we marched out to the parade ground with our packs up. There we piled our packs, rifles etc … and we were free to wander round for an hour or two. Immediately after tea we again fell in, and after being addressed by Major Love, and giving three cheers for old ‘Go Alone’, who was staying as Camp Commandant, we marched out in rear of the other regiments; cheering, laughing, singing and joking, we made our way to the railway station, cracking jokes as we passed the Skating Rink Hospital with the wounded who lined the street and windows. The carriages proved to be the old third class cattle truck variety. Within an hour or so all impedimenta were aboard and the train moved out to Alexandria.²³

The light horsemen were filled with excitement at the prospect of going to the front at last. Brazier watched with a heavy heart as his regiment set off. Later, looking about at the dull job that he was left with, he could only declare: ‘Oh Lord. How rotten are things in general.’²⁴ He felt that he had suffered another cruel injustice.