~ 365 ~

As was the way of One Spur
For adventure was his call
The first world war attracted him
He could not resist at all.

~ 366 ~

So he rode down to Sydney
With friend Deacon by his side
To volunteer for duty
Filled with a national pride

~ 367 ~

Both passed the simple testing
To join the light horse team
Both man and horse accepted
Though both were very green

~ 368 ~

Many others joined them
From many different towns
City boys and cattle men
From wide spread station grounds

~ 369 ~

They rode down from the Bucca
From seashore homes and farms
Boys and men alike
With rifles in their arms

~ 370 ~

They left their homes and country
Aboard a gallant ship
That was no place for horses
'Twas not a pleasant trip

~ 371 ~

But finally they landed
Upon a desert shore
Where the Cavalry troops had banded
To form the light horse corps

~ 372 ~

Empty was the desert
Devoid of plants and wet
With seas of giant sand dunes
And angular land form tracts

~ 373 ~

Alluvial fans, rock waddies
Salinas on the flats
Where vertifact pebbles glint in sun
Beyond the yardang mats

~ 374 ~

Except in Beersheba
Good wells were scarce to find
Thus water was a problem
The Palm hods were unkind

~ 375 ~

The brackish Palm hod water
Was never good to taste
And horses only drank it
When life might wilt and waste

~ 376 ~

The new men joined a staging camp
Where the Kings of feathers were
They were still but shining lamps
Who had not yet tasted war

~ 377 ~

Grey coats, Grey horses, faces grey
Rode by in dust, fatigued
They had charged the Nek this day
The Turkish camp besieged

~ 378 ~

From Pope's the swaying skyline fell
In heaps of flesh and screams
In style splendid into hell
They had braved the bullet streams

~ 379 ~

In faces now youths trace was gone
Pale anguish lingered there
'Tis best to not recall-not one
Who's eyes such horror bare

~ 380 ~

The Whaler, now a desert horse
That bore the Aussie well
Was seen by British rank of course
As a beast with 'much to tell'

~ 381 ~

"'Somewhat upon the lighter side'
This horse a Whaler called
Part Timor, Welsh and brumby pride
With 'toff' thoroughbred installed"

~ 382 ~

"Bares cleaner bone than most about
Fine neck, and broader head
A barrel large, but under-stout
A clean and racy leg"

~ 383 ~

In all he is a handsome beast
With lightning hoof as well
A match for any here at least
And defiant of the shell

~ 384 ~

"He'll carry man a lengthy mile
And bare his burden well
He's got the spirit and the style
One look, and you can tell"

~ 385 ~

The walled city of the prairie
Mid the wadi saba plain
Is the town called Beersheba
An old and ancient name

~ 386 ~

It lies within a basin
Below the Hebron hills
That feed the Wadi Ghazza
Where the drainage water spills

~ 387 ~

'Tis held by Turkish soldiers
And German-Yilderim troops
Led by Ismet the Wary
In command off all the groups

~ 388 ~

But the Australian banners flying,
Beyond those windblown dunes,
Rends dread in them of dying,
To the lighthorse bugle tunes

~ 389 ~

For infantry, in mounted mass,
Were fearful troops indeed,
None were eager to address
The lancers charging steed

~ 390 ~

Day had cast its final glow,
And spiral nymphs of dust,
Glowered in the silver light
Along the desert crust

~ 391 ~

But soon the morn with blazing sun
Embraced these fighting men,
As dust clouds rose from stomping hooves,
Then settled down again

~ 392 ~

Good men were here in plenty
Tough Stockmen wild and green
Though Some were almost gentry
A few were quite obscene

~ 393 ~

Take Swagman Jack, for instance
He's not your family kind
And Breaker Bill is not a toff
Though blessed with genteel mind

~ 394 ~

Some are friends and brothers
Young stalwarts without fear
'Jackaranda' he's from Grafton
Still sporting convict leer

~ 395 ~

Many types from many towns
All here to join the fray
Every lad worth his salt
As might well be proved today

~ 396 ~

Nose bags, now being empty
Were carefully packed to ride
long-boots pulled to guard the leg
Were spurred and cleaned with pride

~ 397 ~

They sheathed their guns and bayonets
Donned bandoliers and belts
Fixed leather saddles to their mounts
Hats slouched to shade the face

~ 398 ~

Pack horses were moved arrear
('This looks like it my friend')
"Pack up your blankets and your gear,
We've got a war to tend"

~ 399 ~

"Mount Up!" the troopers moved as one
As they prepared to ride
A rhythmic creaking of the saddles
Eyes ablaze with Aussie pride

~ 400 ~

They rode with three days fodder
With water bottles filled
Bully beef and chocolate
Brief fear of being killed

~ 401 ~

They faced crescents of trenches, redoubts
Strong points and fortified hills
El Saba, Sakat, Beersheba
A foe so lethal he kills.

~ 402 ~

With Squadron line extended
They rode four men abreast
Across the screening ridge-line
To face the ultimate test

~ 403 ~

They galloped along the desert plain
Shell burst across their front
Sheep scattered through the Bedouin camps
As they spurred from mane to rump

~ 404 ~

Women wailed and children fled
Mid goats and fowls and hope
'Twas such that many laughed, and bled
At such a varied scope

~ 405 ~

Four abreast the lighthorse rode
Out of the burning sun
From the eastern desert flank
With bayonet and gun

~ 406 ~

South-east across the flatlands
Towards the fade of moon
Behind the big gun's silent
Would erupt with violence soon

~ 407 ~

Then shells and bombs exploded
The shrapnel flying wide
That in the sudden fury
Many a light horse trooper died

~ 408 ~

Sakaiti fell to brave advance
The Kiwis claimed El Saba
But thirst did not in horse enhance
It's will to face such labour

~ 409 ~

Yet the trooper's horse was gallant,
And brave in face of war,
'Twas not a mount that shied away,
'Twas, faithful to the core.

~ 410 ~

Now set in rhythmic canter
With the whalers pulling strong
The horsemen drew their bayonets
Cold in the sheath so long

~ 411 ~

The horses smelt the water
Of the Beersheba wells
Stretching out to lengthen stride
Oblivious of the shells

~ 412 ~

A thousand guns and rifles
Formed the blanket face
And from the sky hot Turkish bombs
Fell to a just disgrace

~ 413 ~

Horses fell and riders crashed
Some horses kept on going,
Lifelike steeds defying death
With streams of red blood flowing

~ 414 ~

Throff belched and bubbled freely
And caught on flaying wind
Splattered those in after ranks
Where the lines had thinned

~ 415 ~

Horses shied and fought the rein
As rifles belched and spat
On their faces fear and pain,
Of most not blooded yet

~ 416 ~

With hat brims pulled down lower
To shade the blinding sun
Heads were buried in the manes
To hide from Turkish gun

~ 417 ~

The light-horse ranks together
Mid smoke and cannon blast
Faced the bullet blizzard
For this was their great task

~ 418 ~

They turned their horses to the east
Spread out across the plain
Sweat beneath a dirty vest
Eyes stricken wide with pain

~ 418 ~

"Charge!" the order sounded,
The bugle rent its tune,
A thousand hooves then pounded
Across the desert dune.

~ 420 ~

Pistonic hooves gained impact
That made the rock chip fly
Hock-bone cracked and riders yelled
And screamed their battle cry

~ 421 ~

Chafed shoulders stout and willing
Flanks thinned from want of wet
Stretched necks with nostrils filling
With the smell of water yet

~ 422 ~

Far-flung across the valley
Al-Nabis light horse spanned
Waves of charging horsemen
A sight so vibrant grand

~ 423 ~

Loud Cooee yells, and screaming
The thunderous pound of hooves
Grit tempest in their faces
Belched from the blasted grooves

~ 424 ~

Felled by shot and dying
Some writhed upon the sand
Trampled to horrific pulp
Blood splattered on the land

~ 425 ~

Slashed and cut from flying steel
Some in the saddle dead
Rode along with those alive
Who had yet their blood to shed

~ 426 ~

With broken limbs that could no more
Wield a bayonet true
They gripped the reins between their teeth
They were the braver few

~ 427 ~

Forward, bravely forward
Into the realms of hell,
The battle bugle sounding
Mid the blasting of the shell

~ 428 ~

The thunder of the hoof beats
The loud yelling of the men
The hot air filled with smoky sheets
Split by a score and then...

~ 429 ~

Under the guns the light-horse swept
Turk trunnions far to slow
To halt the waves of flailing hooves
And the tenacity of their foe

~ 430 ~

White faces upward peering
From black trenches harshly searing
With frenzied bodies leering
At the vibrant sweeping fray

~ 431 ~

For none could stop these horsemen
As they swept beneath the cannon
Drove back the Turkish gunner
In a terrifying way

~ 432 ~

Nor could they kill his horses
That were thirsting for his water
As they galloped into bedlam
And a new historic day.

~ 433 ~

They had ridden beneath the cannon
And through the torrid trenches
Now they rode on Beersheba
In dauntless fine array

~ 434 ~

No cavalry horseman bolder
None daring nor more dashing
With gun and bayonet flashing
Had described such fine display

~ 435 ~

As These wearers of Kings feathers
Plumed slouch hats grimly low
Whom in charging bold together
Struck the Turks a vital blow

~ 436 ~

The Australian bugle sounded
The lancer banners flew
As the valiant cavalry horses
Nearer Beersheba drew

~ 437 ~

There were never men more gallant
Than those lighthorse troopers then,
As they swept in lines of battle
Into history once again

~ 438 ~

What artist ere could paint them
What king could not applaud
These dauntless lines of Aussies
This proud and gallant hoard

~ 439 ~

Soon 'twas Beersheba fallen
And a British victory won
By the brave young Aussie horsemen
Who had charged out of the sun

~ 440 ~

None would share their glory
Who had missed this vibrant ride
Nor ever here their stories...
Of those who bravely died

~ 441 ~

None would see the slaughter
Who did not ride that day
Nor see the maimed and tortured
Flail helpless in the fray

~ 442 ~

None left at home in comfort
Would ever smell the stench
See the crippled horses
Belly-cut in Turkish trench

~ 443 ~

Bold they rode those horsemen
Who rode with Aussie pride
Brave they fought undaunted
And proudly many died

~ 444 ~

They had captured Beersheba,
They had proved their worth this day,
The last great charge in history,
To mark the cavalry way

~ 445 ~