After a fatiguing morning loading and unloading refractory pack mules... ‘Sig’ Morton and I proceeded on Pass to Amara for the purpose of shopping. I encountered my old friend and comrade in arms Dick Spencer. Thirst is always prevalent, more or less, in the salubrious land of ‘Sinbad the Sailor’ and the ‘Arabian Nights’. He failed to pass fit on medical inspection and was not going up the line after all; therefore, I suggested a drink to celebrate the occasion. I touchingly reminded him that it might be the last time we should meet on mother earth… An Arab coolie was requisitioned and in due course a case of beer made its appearance. After the fourth bottle and when indulging in that delightful topic, reminiscences of bygone and happier days, who should make his appearance but the Provost Corporal. He did not seem very pleased and I did not like his looks, and whispered my opinion to Dick, who seemed to concur, as he remarked - ‘He is a bit of a... Ask him to have a drink’. Dick and I entreated. To this invitation the Corporal of Provosts dourly replied, ‘I will have a mouthful’. Well, between mouthfuls he sang ‘Annie Laurie,’ followed by ‘My Comrade of Many’s a Hard-fought Field’. Dick regaled us with the ‘Lassie frae Lancashire’, and Morton followed up with a humorous song. I remember there was a Mr Ouster in it. To the best of my memory I think it was entitled ‘Down on the Farm’. To cut a long story short, between elbow raising and singing, the shades of night fell and we were miles from camp with a hostile country to traverse. We made our adieus to our now jovial and lucky comrades, as they were at home. << less