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Updated: May 29, 2025
They tracked cleverly across the moor, and were met by an eager Australian with the question: "Have you brought the water, cobbers?" On the 11th, the Battalion had a long, weary march to the front line. The trenches were full of water, and the gullies became almost impassable. On the 28th, Lockwood, our musketry expert, was severely wounded in the chest.
They dragged out the storekeeper, his wife, and young daughter, and pressed them into the middle of the parade. "If Security's so damned powerful, why doesn't it stop that?" he asked bitterly. Randolph grinned at him. "They might do it, Gordon. They just might. But are you sure you want it stopped?" "All right," Mother Corey said suddenly. "This is a social game, cobbers."
Mac he was in a support trench woke with a thrill to this grand din of battle, speedily assumed his bandolier, water-bottle and revolver, grasped his rifle, and trundled away up the sap after his disappearing cobbers.
But as "Hail Columbia" belongs to all Americans, the Cobbers elected to flash their bunting, too. Suddenly the music paused. Then came pressing contempt for the hostile eleven: "All coons look alike to me!" Cobber's friends took the hint in an instant. To a man the visiting delegation arose, hurling out the Cobber yell in round, deep-chested notes.
Didn't know you'd met, cobbers. Contact, Izzy?" "Ninety per cent for uncut," Izzy answered. They went up to Gordon's hole-in-the-wall, with Mother Corey wheezing behind, while the rotten wood of the stairs groaned under his grotesque bulk. At his questions, Gordon told the story tersely. Mother Corey nodded. "Same old angles, eh? Get enough to do the job, they mug you.
And in these wretched saps amid a horror of desolation Mac and his cobbers passed every second twenty-four hours. In the day-time the sun beat into them with unrelieved violence, and many troopers squeezed into the bomb-proof shelters and tunnel entrances to seek shade. There was no where to cook food, and bully beef, biscuits and water formed the fare.
About ten o'clock at night another squadron appeared for their relief, and Mac, with keen anticipations of a drink, a bathe and a sleep, speedily stumbled off through the scrub after his cobbers.
Delving into a battered biscuit tin, he produced some characterless dried flour tiles, a tin of bully and a tin of apricot, the choicest of Deakin. His three cobbers, who were the only other inhabitants of this section of the sap, had breakfasted, and now lay, like three mummies, on their respective ledges.
So Mac and his cobbers had a few hours' leave pending the departure of the southward ferry steamer at eight o'clock, and they, in the meantime, went up the town to have a good time and to turn out old friends. They did not waste these few short hours, the streets rang with their enthusiasm, and the departing steamer took away from the pier a singing, rollicking crowd of happy warriors.
The band was stationed close to the ground, in the center of the stand reserved for the High School student body. Off the right of the band rose four tiers of bright-faced, wholesome-looking High School girls. To the left of the band sat the boys. Across the field, on a much smaller stand, sat the hundred or so followers of the team from Cobber. The Cobbers had no band.
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