New Zealanders were kept in Egypt for the defense of the canal. Before
we dug the trenches in Arabia (which were about ten miles east of the
canal) passengers on steamers passing through it had some lively
experiences, as the Bedouins of the desert would sometimes amuse
themselves by sniping at those on board, and the wheel-house and bridge
had to be protected by sand-bags.

We were camped first at Tel-el-Kebir and then at Ferry Post, near
Ismailia (where the canal enters the Bitter Lake). Those who took part
in the march from Tel-el-Kebir will not forget it in a hurry. The
camels bolted with our water and we only had our water-bottles in a
hundred miles across the desert. By the time we reached the Sweet
Water Canal we were panting like dogs, our tongues swollen and hanging
out, our lips cracked and bleeding. There were many poor fellows just
crazed for need of a drink, under that awful sun that was like the open
furnace-door of hell, with the sand filling every orifice in our faces
and parching our throats till they were inflamed. We were warned that
the Sweet (or fresh) Water Canal was full of germs and that to drink it
might possibly mean death, but most of us were too far gone in the
agony of thirst to care whether the drink were our last, and we threw
ourselves down at the water's edge and lapped it up like dogs.
Fortunately, there were few ill effects, and the medical staff was not
overworked because of it. There might have been many casualties,
though, if it had not been for the New Zealanders, who, hearing of our
plight, came out with water-carts and ambulances and picked up those
who had fallen by the way.

At Ferry Post there was a reorganization of the Australian battalions
and we lost many of our old pals--alas! never to meet again this side
of eternity.